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sajajhsbz · 10 months

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Jealous

Pairing: Sodo Ghoul x reader

summary: Since you joined the band, Sodo has been hostile towards you, but you would have never guessed the reason was jealousy...

warnings: Smut| fingering, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, choking, and spanking.

"it's not my fault y/n can't play fucking right"

"I can't play? Please Sodo you got half the fucking song wrong"

"fuck you"

"you wish"

"ok ok ok" Copia intervened "Let's all calm down a moment and take a break, alright? Sodo" He nodded to him "Go have a smoke"

A grumbled "fine" echoed off the rehearsal room as he walked off, slamming the door behind him.

"god he's such a fucking drama queen" you sighed, having a sip of your water as you sat down between Phantom and Swiss.

"he always has to shout- and always at me! I honestly don't get what I've done to make him hate me so much"

They exchanged a look, a smirk playing on their lips.

"I don't think he hates you, sweetheart"

you snorted " 'sure looks like it"

"I think it's actually quite the opposite"

"What, that he wants to fuck me?" you asked, rolling your eyes "You all do, you perverts" you teased "And if that's the case, yelling won't get him anywhere"

they chuckled "We know baby, but you know how he is..."

"yeah, an asshole"

just then the door opened, Sodo's still clearly tense figure emerging from it.

"yeah" somebody whispered in response, but you were focused on him.

Copia asked him something, but his eyes set on Swiss's hand you hadn't even noticed was placed on your thigh.

He emitted a grunt that spurt of jealousy to answer Copia, and your eyes met for just a moment.

You definitely took note of that.

__ __ __

Only you, Phantom, and Sodo were left in the rehearsal room, as always the ones taking the longest.

You laughed at a funny remark Phantom made and slapped his shoulder playfully as you finished packing your stuff.

"oh I almost forgot" you recalled "Here is your pick," you said, fishing it out of your pocket to hand it to him.

"don't worry, keep it"

"Are you sure? Didn't you have this since you were young?"

"I did, but I want you to have it"

Your lips turned into that happy pout he adored

"thank you so much!" you smiled, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight hug.

He hesitantly hugged you back

"you were always my favorite" you whispered into his ear, sensing how he shivered under you

"thank you, handsome," you said again, kissing his cheek for a moment more than necessary before letting him go.

"n-no worries" he shook his head, poorly attempting at hiding his blushing cheeks.

He picked up his things as quickly as he could before rushing to the door.

"Uh-Uh, I-I'll see you later"

"bye handsome" you chuckled, watching him scurry to his room.

A loud sigh came from your right, and you caught Sodo rolling his eyes as you turned around

"oh don't worry you're handsome too" you teased, walking to him.

"You gave the poor kid a hard-on just for fun?"

"no, not just for fun, I'll take care of it later"

And there it was, that tick of his jaw as jealousy darkened his eyes.

"what, you're jealous?"

He avoided your gaze, pretending to be busy with his guitar's chords.

"you can tell me if you are..."

"I'm not" he spat

"so you're saying you haven't thought about me that way? that you haven't fucked your fist just last night imagining it was me?" you mocked, a sly smirk playing on your lips "We have really thin walls y'know?"

"fuck off"

You let out a dramatic sigh "Fine, then I guess I'll go keep Phantom some company since you seem to have a stick up your ass" you said, walking to the door, but before you could reach it, his hand grabbed your wrist, turning you around.

"I knew it" you grinned, as he stared right into your soul with his frozen eyes.

"shut up"

you smirked, ghosting his mouth, "Make me"

And at that, he'd had enough.

he crashed his mouth with yours, devouring you as if you were a fucking meal and him a starved man.

His tongue moved into your mouth, exploring all you had to offer as his hand gripped and groped like it was their duty.

He slammed you against the door, making you wince as your head hit the hardwood, he couldn't have cared less as he finally got a taste of what he'd been dreaming about for a whole year.

He didn't know why he had refrained for so long. He hated himself for wanting you this much, and all that hate was oftentimes wrongly pointed at you.

You let out a quiet whimper as he started sucking on your neck, your hand going straight to his long hair.

"see now, it wasn't so hard" you mocked him in between breaths "You could have told me earlier that this was all you wanted"

"I thought I'd told you to shut up"

You chuckled "you did"

"God you're such a fucking brat" his hold on your waist tightened "I think you need something to keep that mouth busy" he smirked "and as much as I'd like to see you kneel before me, I don't think you've earned my cock just yet" he taunted you, seeing the way your eyes had sparked at the proposal.

His hand traveled up your body until two of his long fingers reached your bottom lip.

"Be a good girl and show me how good you'd suck my dick"

You wasted no time taking them in your mouth, closing your eyes as you pretended it was his cock.

He groaned at the sight "Just like that-" he said, pumping his fingers in and out of your mouth as saliva pulled from your puffy lips.

You hadn't even noticed his other hand sneaking beneath your skirt, until you felt his thumb press to your clothed core

Your eyes snapped open as a muffled gasp attempted to flee your throat

"Yeah, I like you much better when you can't talk" he nodded, looking proud of himself.

"don't you even think about stopping" he growled, eyeing your lips as his fingers found their way inside your panties "if you do, so do I" he threatened, gathering some of your slick on his middle and ring finger and teasing your entrance with them

You moaned, but didn't need to be told twice as you resumed bobbing your head to suck on his digits.

"that's a good girl" he smirked in approval as he pushed his fingers inside of you, leaving you breathless.

"so wet for me" he murmured, kissing your neck as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling them just to the right spot "Such a good slut"

Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head with every movement of his skilled fingers, but you still tried to focus on your task, although his sucking on your neck really didn't help.

"aw, you're already coming aren't you" he cooed, feeling you tighten around him "poor baby" he continued, raising his head to look at you.

"you think you deserve to cum?" he asked, fastening his pace and causing your knees to buckle.

You eagerly nodded, giving him your best doe eyes

Yes I do, please,is what you would have said, if your mouth hadn't been so busy at the moment.

"yes? That's what you think?"

you nodded again

"We'll I don't" his movements cruelly came to a stop "all that teasing... that's not what good girls do now, do they?" he asked, his fingers leaving both your cunt and mouth.

"please" you begged, eyes suddenly teary

he chuckled "That's a sight I thought I'd never see, you begging me"

You wanted to punch him, but god, did you also want to come.

"please sodo" you prayed, bringing your hands to the tent in his pants "please" you breathed

"oh is that what you want? My cock?"

you nodded

"how come you don't use that mouth of yours when you should?"

"yes, sorry, yes, please fuck me"

"I don't know..." he taunted, but this time, you were ready to fight back.

"I know you want to" you spoke sultrily, slowly getting rid of your shirt "I know you've been dreaming about it since I first joined the band" You unhooked your bra and let it fall to your feet before slowly starting to stoke his erection "I know yo-"

You couldn't finish your sentence as he had gripped your hair, forcing your head up to look at him.

"You really are a fucking brat y'know" he grunted, suddenly turning you so that your head was pressed against the door "can't keep that mouth of yours shut for the life of you" he growled, as he undid his zipper.

His hand on your head traveled to the back of your neck, keeping you still, as his other hand gripped his cock and positioned it at your entrance.

"I'll see how you do with my cock deep inside you" he smirked, pushing into you without any warning.

"fuck" you screamed at the stretch. As much as he had gotten you ready, it still hurt deliciously.

" 'S too big for you?" he taunted, rolling his hips "I thought more of you sweetheart"

"shut up" you moaned, "just-please fucking move"

"don't have to ask twice" he snickered, as he started fucking you at a brutal pace.

"f-fuck- 'feels so-so good" you cried out, letting him use you like a doll.

You could feel him everywhere

"Yeah? Phantom makes you cry like this too, Swiss, any of the others?"

"So jealous..." you smiled, watching him from the corner of your eye.

He grunted as he slapped your ass in response "You really just can't help it, can you?" he asked, the hand on the back of your neck moving to the front of it and squeezing it tight.

A fire spread over your body, as a wave of pleasure took over you.

"look at you" he mocked "Finally fucking quiet" he murmured, bending down to whisper in your ear as his thrust didn't give signs of slowing "and all it took was my cock in your pussy and my hand around your throat" he bit your earlobe, making you cry out even louder "If I'd known, I would have done this a long time ago. Would have saved me so many headaches..."

And once again, the urge to punch him was overtaken by the need to come.

You were a mess. The only sound your throat could make were shameless moans as he pounded into you like it was his life-long duty to split you in fucking half.

"Such a good little slut for m-

A knock at the door distracted the both of you, but he didn't stop whatsoever.

"I FORGOT MY PHONE IN THERE!"

It was Swiss

"WE'RE BUSY!" Sodo yelled back, starting to fuck you harder again

"YEAH, I CAN HEAR. BUT I REALLY NEED IT"

A loud moan climbed your throat as Sodo's thumb found your clit.

You had a suspicion that was exactly his goal.

"GO THE FUCK AWAY"

"MAN C'MON I'M HAPPY YOU FINALLY FUCKED BUT I STILL NEED MY FUCKING PHONE"

You would have laughed if you hadn't been so cock drunk

"I SWEAR SWISS, IF YOU DON'T WALK AWAY RIGHT NOW I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU"

"FINE, BUT YOU OWE ME"

"WHATEVER, JUST GO!"

"I AM"

Your moans had gotten louder in the meantime, and your legs were shaking as your orgasm approached rapidly.

"Fuck- I can feel you squeezing me sweetheart" he groaned "you wanna cum?"

"Please" was all you could muster

"scream my name as loud as you fucking can, ok?"

You nodded,

"good girl" he kept his pace "Good. fucking. girl"

And at that, a wildfire ignited in your body as your orgasm took over every inch of your being.

You quite literally screamed his name as you came, and just as you started to recover from the life-changing climax, you felt him still inside of you, as thick ropes of his come filled you up to the brim.

He pulled out of you and all you could do was smile as you turned to him.

"swiss is pissed"

"yeah well, I don't give a shit, I just had the best fuck of my life"

"you'll have to make it up to him"

"I have no idea how"

"I do"

"do tell"

And at that, you giggled, as you raised yourself on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear

"we should let him join next time"

#sodo x reader #sodo ghoul #Sodo ghoul x reader #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #the band ghost #Sodo ghoul smut #ghost the band #nameless ghoul x reader

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muertawrites · 2 years

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Of Incense and Intimacy (Eddie Munson x Reader) [18+]

Summary: Your roommate's recreational habits tend to wreak havoc on your anxious sensitivities, so you burn a little incense with him to help you both relax. Maybe choosing a scent called "love spell" wasn't the best idea....

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, the devil's lettuce, explicit descriptions of secks (minors i fucking see you stay behind the beaded curtain), raw dogging (wear a fuckin' raincoat y'all don't be dumb), mentions of the dirty touch, perv!eddie my beloved, my daddy kink continuing to control every aspect of my life

Word Count: 3.5k (she long and thick this time babes)

Author's Note: i just like incense a lot. ever since i got a backflow burner it's become my entire personality. my room smells amazing.

You hate doing this, ruining his fun. Especially because you know it's how he relaxes; how he deals with his own problems. Still, the tightening of your chest, the shallowness of your breathing, the fear starting to creep its way out of the corners of your mind sends you across the hall, tapping on his door.

Eddie answers in a puff of cannabis smoke, and you instinctively cover your mouth and nose with your shirt. Even in his hazy, glazed-over frame of mind, he knows exactly why you're here, and he immediately apologizes.

"Oh, shit, pumpkin, I'm sorry."

He dashes back into his room, stubbing out the joint in his hand and opening his window a crack, despite the winter chill. You stand in the doorway and sigh.

"No, I'm sorry," you say. "I'm a shit roommate."

"You have clinical anxiety." He annunciates the words as he returns to you, leaning against the door frame and giving your hair a quick, gentle pet. "It's okay."

You grimace as you flinch away, choked by the skunky smell emanating from him.

"That shit reeks," you huff. "You don't have anything better?"

Eddie chuckles, shoving the sleeve of his sweatshirt under your nose to tease you. He laughs as you smack him away.

"The high quality stuff brings in too much money," he explains. "Unless you want me to stop pitching in for takeout."

You roll your eyes and hold a finger up, telling him to wait.

"I'm not living with that stench all night."

You disappear into your bedroom, returning with a couple ceramic dishes and a stack of different sized boxes. Eddie raises an eyebrow as you set them up on his dresser, handing him a few of the boxes and directing him to choose some of the contents. He opens the topmost one, labeled "fairy dust", and removes one of the clay-coated sticks inside.

"Incense?" he realizes. He holds the stick up to his face, the scent so sweet it burns his nostrils. "Is this why your room always smells so good?"

You nod, shuffling through a few of the smaller boxes.

"It covers up the smell of weed," you explain. "I started using it like a week after we moved in together."

Eddie smirks, looking through the other scents you've brought over. Some of them are simple and self-explanatory, like basil and lily, but others are more vague, like "mystique" and "decadence". He pauses when he comes across a box marked with the words "love spell", grinning at you in that impish, borderline perverse way you know too well.

"You trying to seduce me?" he jests, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'd have to do way less than this to seduce you," you laugh. You shriek when his pillow smacks you in the back of the head.

"I'm not desperate," he defends himself. "I've been dry for over a year, y'know."

"We share a wall," you remind him. "I can hear you masturbate. Twice a day. It's like you don't even try to keep quiet."

He scoffs, attempting to play off the fierce blush that burns across his cheeks. You giggle at him; he's way too cute.

"What's weirder is that I never hear you masturbate," he deflects. "I'm starting to worry."

"I masturbate," you state matter-of-factly. "I'm just considerate enough to shut the fuck up about it."

Eddie tries to ignore the way the image of you pleasuring yourself, just feet away from him, makes his cock twitch. He clears his throat as he hands you one of the boxes, choosing at random.

"Here."

You examine it, grinning up at him.

"You picked the one called 'wizard'?" you tease. "Not surprised."

He chuckles, settling himself on the end of his mattress as he watches you place an incense stick upright in your burner and set it alight with the Zippo he keeps next to his stash. The flame flares, searing a thick, smoky path down the tip of the stick before you blow it out, leaving nothing but glowing embers and heavy, fragrant smoke curling into the air. He fixates on the purse of your lips, barely staving off the lewd thoughts that float through his mind.

As the smell of sugar and sandalwood perfumes the confined space, you pop open one of the smaller boxes and remove an incense cone from it, setting it strategically at the top of the second dish. This one is shaped like a pond, beveled with stones, complete with sculpted lily pads and painted koi. When you light the tip of the cone, sweet sage drifts upward on the wisps of smoke, waves of it cascading down the ceramic stones and into the waiting pool below.

Eddie's eyes grow wide, watching the display as if you're performing magic. You smile, curling up on his mattress so you can comfortably enjoy the view.

"That's so fucking cool," he gasps. He lays back beside you, his body fitting nicely next to yours. There isn't much room on his full bed, so you're pressed together, your head falling onto his stomach to compensate for the lack of space.

"Yeah, I knew you'd like it," you muse. "I was gonna get you one for your birthday."

You lay like that for a while, until the incense stick burns out, the silence and shared warmth far too easy between you. Eddie's arm migrates around your shoulders, hugging you close, your leg somehow finding its way between his as you fold yourself more and more into him. The scent of weed still lingers after the incense is gone, so you stand and light another, Eddie whining at the loss of your touch.

Rose petals and musk fill the air as you return to the bed, this time straddling your roommate's lap as he sits leaned against his pillows and the wall. He quirks a brow at you but doesn't protest, his hands falling without hesitation around your waist, keeping you there.

"... Maybe I am trying to seduce you. A little bit," you admit.

He smirks, eyes still glassy from his high.

"You're joking," he replies. There's no way that you - beautiful, intelligent, fiery you - want to have sex with him.

But you shake your head, arms draping over his shoulders as your chest presses to his.

"I think you're hotter than sin, Eddie Munson. And you're my best friend. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be in bed with."

Maybe it's the pot. Maybe it's how pretty you look with your hair up, greasy and messy, a day past needing a wash. Maybe it's the feel of your unconfined breasts pushed against him under your sweater. Maybe it's simply how he loves you, but can't find the words to admit it. Whatever the reason, Eddie closes the space between you with a tender, tentative kiss, his thumb grazing the naked skin just under your shirt. You smile softly against his lips, opening your mouth so they can slot together with yours, tongues finding each other with the gentlest little push.

"You taste good," he murmurs. You peck his lips as he pulls away to speak, gazing dreamily into his honey brown eyes.

"You taste like smoke," you tell him. He chuckles, returning your tiny smooch.

You take your time, savoring each other's kisses and touches in a heated round of sucking face. Eddie's movements are slow and deliberate, his tongue and his lips moving in sync with yours while his large, calloused palms rub loving circles into the skin under your sweater. When you pull away to breathe, he licks teasingly at your lips, grinning as you giggle softly. He presses lazy kisses along your jaw, your eyes falling blissfully closed as he works his way down your neck, nipping and sucking at your flesh. He's hard under his sweatpants, but he's in no rush - he loves having you close, loves having the time to worship your body the way you deserve. You knot your fingers in his hair and he lets out a breathy little moan, the sound so melodic you could listen to it on repeat for hours.

"What do you think about when you masturbate?" he wonders aloud. He thoughtfully licks his lips as he levels his face once again, brushing his nose against yours. His eyes are heavily lidded.

"It used to be Jeff Goldblum, before he gets all gross in The Fly," you divulge. "But since living with you, it's just you. The sounds you make... it's like having my own private porno."

You smirk as Eddie blushes, his hand squeezing gently at your love handle. You've masturbated... to him masturbating? All while he was none the wiser? That can't be right. He must be hearing things, mustering his own fantasies into being.

"You're so pretty..." he whispers, losing track of his thoughts.

You giggle, playfully licking at his lips the way he did yours.

"What do you think about?" you ask in return.

"You," he answers without a beat. "How you look when you walk around in just a big t-shirt. I like to imagine you riding me like that. Or when you're in the shower, I... I sometimes masturbate thinking of you in there."

Your tongue grazes over your bottom lip, teeth sinking into it as the muscle disappears into your mouth and you smile. He's shocked that you're not totally disgusted.

"I want you to bend me over," you confess.

He blinks. This can't be for real.

"What, no missionary first?" he asks.

You laugh, pressing an affectionate kiss against his lips. He returns it reflexively, grinning into you, adoring the sound of your laugh.

"Just fuck me," you whisper. "It's about time we got naked together."

Eddie obliges without further convincing. He lifts your sweater over your head, drinking in the sight of your bare tits without shame. You kiss him again as your hands run under his sweatshirt, groping at his bare skin as he guides the offending fabric up and away, tossing it somewhere to be forgotten. He takes your face in his hands and presses his chest against yours, sighing into your mouth at the feel of your bodies so close, without anything between them. He's warm, his chest broad and firm, his arms forming a protective brace around you. Something so salacious as preparing for sex with your roommate has no right feeling as loving as this does.

"Stand up," Eddie instructs.

You climb off the mattress, giggling as he takes you by the hips and positions you between his legs. He kisses the space between your breasts, his breath fanning delicately over your skin as he eases your sweatpants down your legs, fingers teasing your exposed thighs. Your first instinct is to be embarrassed - you haven't shaved in well over two weeks, and you're afraid he'll be put off by it. But he's unfazed, too enamored with you to really care. His eyes graze over your body with lovelorn grace, still very much under the influence of the drugs, but clear enough to remain totally tuned in to you.

"Undress me."

He stands so he's towering over you, snaring you in another kiss before you make your way downward, trailing your lips languidly over his torso until you're kneeling before him; you pause on your way to kitten lick his nipple, and the sharp intake of his breath at the tease thrills you.

You don't bother taking your time with his sweats, unraveling the drawstring with expert precision and letting them fall, immediately grasping at the base of his cock. It's a pretty thing, long and perfectly thick, the tip poking out handsomely from the hood of his uncut foreskin. You stroke at him gently, grinning up at him with your lip between your teeth.

"You're as perverted as I am, aren't you, sweet little thing?" Eddie chuckles. You don't miss the way he twitches in your palm.

"I learned from the best," you reply with a wink.

His grin doesn't disappear as you run your tongue up the underside of his head, tasting the salt of precum as you gently suckle at the tip. He breathes an airy moan, his hand falling to the nape of your neck.

"Just let me fuck you, baby," he pleads. "I'll use your mouth another time."

You raise yourself up, unable to stop yourself from taking him in for another kiss. He's addicting, the feel of his lips twined with yours almost, if not as good as the sex you've been aching to have with him.

Eddie's hands don't leave your waist as you crawl back on to his mattress, bending down on your elbows and knees and arching your back in a display of catlike sensuality. He's quick to fall behind you, smoothing his palm down the curve of your back before bringing it with a sharp smack down on your ass cheek. You yelp, already dripping through the petals of your pussy in anticipation of his cock.

He runs two fingers through your slick, feeling you out; in the floor length mirror beside his window, you watch him raise those fingers to his lips and suck them clean.

"So sweet," he drawls. "I can't wait to make you cum with my tongue."

"I've never been eaten out before," you mention, catching his eyes in the mirror. They've got a mischievous gleam, not leaving yours as he runs the head of his cock up and down the length of your opening.

"You'll never want anyone else between your thighs once I'm done with you," he promises.

He dips himself inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden rush of pain that always comes with the first breach of your walls. Your face scrunches, fingers gripping at his sheets as he takes hold of your hips, gently and carefully easing you onto him.

"It hurt?" he questions. The concern in his voice is obvious, and it makes you want for him even more.

"Only for a moment," you assure him. He gives a little nod, pulling out slightly before slipping back in, his cock stroking against you and relaxing your muscles. You breathe out a sigh, the pain fading into delicious fullness.

"Fuck, Eddie," you gasp. "Why didn't you mention you have the dick of a porn star?"

He chuckles, giving you another playful spank as he bottoms out, his head just kissing your cervix.

"Same reason you never mentioned your pussy was so perfectly deep and tight, I guess."

He grips you by the waist and starts to fuck, moaning as he sets a steady pace so you can both savor the feeling of each other. You stretch your torso out on his mattress, curling your body so he's hitting you right at your deepest point, an angle that has him groaning and mewling the way you're all too familiar with.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good for me," he praises. "Taking my cock into that sweet little pussy..."

He brings his hand down once again, causing you to moan with the pleasurable sting of his palm against your skin. He continues to spank, thrusting in time with each hit until your cheeks are rosy and tender with the imprint of his palm. Your tongue rolls out of your mouth as he picks up his pace, eyes closing as you smile with bliss.

"Oh, that's my good girl," he growls. "Loving the way daddy uses her as his little fuck toy."

One of his hands raises to curl around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound ruthlessly into you, your legs shaking as the sensation of him filling you reaches high into your stomach.

"You're so good baby... so good... mmmm, fuck, shit, heck, you feel incredible on my cock... Fuuuuuuuck, baby... Fuck...!"

You giggle at his intonations, mewling sweetly as his hips snap against yours, the sound of your thighs slapping together echoing off the walls. You can hear your sticky wetness clinging to his shaft, a harmony to back the loud groans he releases every time he thrusts.

"Right there, Eddie..." you coax. "Fuck, babe, right there... Make me cum..."

He guides your body forward, laying you flush against the blankets as he positions his body prone above yours, his arm wrapping around your neck to steady you. He doesn't stop railing into you, panting heavily in your ear, the thin plastic of the ever-present guitar pick around his neck bobbing against your back. You roll your hips into his, meeting his thrusts, and he lets out sound so sweet you think he might actually be crying.

"Oh, god, sugar, yes..." he snarls. "Keep fucking yourself on my cock... fuck, fuck, yeah, just like that... oh, love, you feel so fucking good..."

His relentless pace has built up a knot in your abdomen, one that releases with an explosion throughout your entire body. You cry out in ecstasy, your limbs fizzling with the shock of your orgasm, your toes curling as you ride the wave of indescribable pleasure out for its impossible length. As soon as Eddie feels you tighten around him, he clenches the base of his cock, staving away his own release as he fucks you through to the end. Once you relax, he gingerly unsheathes himself; you roll so you're facing him, repositioning yourself with bended knees so you can curl your fingers around the handsome appendage and stroke him, savoring his enamored cries as he cums onto your stomach and breasts. His breathing is ragged as the thick, pearly strings of semen cease to erupt from his slit. He collapses onto the mattress beside you with a satisfied huff.

For a few minutes, all you do is lay beside each other, filling each other's space while your breathing regains its normal rhythm and your bodies come back to themselves. Eventually, Eddie gets up and disappears, returning with the pack of baby wipes you keep in your room. He cleans you off, removing every trace of the depravity you've shared and kissing your stomach once you're pure again. He wipes himself off as well, pitching both the used cloths and the ash left in your burner into the little trash can beside his nightstand. The incense has long since burnt out.

Eddie crawls back into bed with you, lifting the blankets over you both and slipping between them, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he presses his chest to your back. You're laying with your heads on the foot of his bed, but that hardly matters; he's actually holding you, close and tight and with his face buried in your hair. It's such a small thing, but you've never been treated with this much tenderness before.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He can read you like a book and it makes you want to cry.

"... You're just being really good to me," you whisper. "You're not... You're not done with me."

"Of course not," he murmurs. He brushes a few stray wisps away from your face, clearing a space for his lips to press a light kiss into your temple. "If I just wanted you for sex I'd have made a move a long time ago. I... I kind of feel things for you. Like... a lot of things."

You turn to face him, hugging him close and hiding your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head, his fingers making a delicate trail down the length of your spine.

"Thank you for putting up with me," you say. "And for driving me to the hospital that time my contact high gave me a panic attack."

Eddie chuckles, giving your love handle an affectionate squeeze.

"Any time, pumpkin. That's still the best date I've ever had."

You smile, letting out a breathy laugh into his skin.

Over the next couple weeks, Eddie slowly migrates his things into your room, making a habit of sharing a bed even when you're not having sex. His old room becomes a studio, and the other members of Corroded Coffin are excited when he tells them they finally have their own recording space. They're sprawled out on the floor, sharing a joint in celebration when the new setup finally dawns on Jeff.

"Did your roommate move out?" he inquires.

"Not really," Eddie responds with a shrug. "More like I moved in."

Jeff and Gareth share a skeptical look. As if on cue, you appear in the doorway, wearing a pair of Eddie's boxers and tossing him a pack of basil-scented incense, which he catches without so much as a flinch.

"Put it out, please," you request. "I'm starting to get jitters."

"Yes, dear. Our apologies."

He flashes you a giddy, awestruck smile as he reaches for the ashtray. He then blows you an exaggerated kiss, to which you just roll your eyes and grin.

"You're a fucking dork," you tell him.

"Love you too, angel babe."

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#muerta's works #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #fluffy smut #perv!eddie munson #perv!eddie #roommate!eddie munson

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lis-likes-fics · 5 months

Text

Would You Mind?

Pairings: Blue Jones x Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Kink: Begging Warnings: NSFW, dubcon elements, overstimulation, oral (m!receiving, brief f!receiving), face fucking, fingering, begging kink, praise kink, degradation kink, name calling, insinuated prostitution, dom/sub elements, dirty talk, spanking (briefly), very brief breeding kink (blink and you'll miss it), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia... A/N: I've been trying to write a Blue fic for a while so this was fun. The song featured in this fic is Would You Mind by Janet Jackson. I hope you enjoy and thank you so much! Merry Christmas!

“Baby, would you mind touching me ever so slowly?”

Blue stares at the stage with a hard look etched into the features of his face. He flexes his hands at his sides, stuffing them in his pockets as he watches. The oiled up bodies of his girls twirl and grind against one another, a frivolous act put together by Madam Gorski, full of glitz and glam and leather and lace.

The fabric, the darkest blue and shiniest silver sticking to your body, is tight. Blue is sure it'll leave imprints in your skin, the lacey patterns of feathers and flowers in your stockings, the waistband of your tiny, tiny skirt, the lines of your tiny brassiere. You dance in too high heels like it's nothing, and he wants to take you in his hands and crush you with the weight of his desire for you.

“You're making me quiver and, baby, would you mind undressing me?”

You look right at him when you sing that, your melodies standing out against the harmonies of your backups currently surrounding you in their crouched levels. The feathers of your headdress fall over some of your face, huge and fluffy and adding to the seduction of your smooth, addictive voice. Your eyes flick away from him, as though you never even saw him.

His eyes never tear away from you. He's drunk on your song, as he always is when you open your pretty little mouth and become his own personal little songbird.

He watches intently as the girls pick you and hold you over their heads, turning you in a circle as though you were flying. They support you through your steady, hypnotic vocalizations, like you're sounding a mating call in an attempt to have every man in the theatre flock to you like vultures circling their prey.

They set you down as a few men enter the stage, some taking partners as a couple of them come to your sides. Their bodies flush against yours, standing firmly there as you lean against one and caress a hand down his chest, his hands coming to touch you as the other does the same.

Blue feels his heart battering against his ribs, the anger building inside of you at the way the men touched you. He watches your eyes flutter as your breath hitches and you continue to sing.

“I just wanna touch you, tease you, lick you, please you, love you, hold you, make love to you…”

Your hooded eyes meet him again, and he knows that you know what you're doing.

You sink to your knees, your back against one of the men as he watches you descend. You turn, placing your free hand on his thigh and making your way back up as you tuck your nose underneath his chin. His hand smooths along your side until he's dipping down to grab your thigh. He hosts you up and maneuvers you like you've practiced a million times before until you are hanging upside down, your legs on his shoulders and the back of your head resting against his lower stomach.

And you're so skilled, your voice is level and controlled as you continue.

“I just wanna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you feel you, make you cum too.”

The man's lips caress the inside of your leg carefully, the other man coming up too close so you're trapped between them. He dips down to hold you under your shoulders, slowly bringing you back up so you're balanced on the other man's shoulders with your crotch in his face as his strong arms hold you up.

Blue watches your fingers intertwine with his hair and clenches his jaw so tight, he feels like he may pop a vein. You move your hips in a rhythmic grind, though you never make contact with the man's face. It's all an act, Blue knows, but the thought of it alone makes his blood boil.

“Baby, would you mind kissing me all over my body?”

Blue is interrupted from his thoughts when someone's hand claps him on the back. He turns around, readjusting his posture.

“P, sweetheart, how've you been?” a man says jovially, a cigar between his thick fingers.

“Pleasant,” he corrects quickly. “I've been fine, Mr. Benny. How about yourself?” He fights the urge to clench his jaw. Benny comes at least once every week to get a look at the songbird. Every week he asks for a night with her, and every week he is denied. Blue really isn't in the mood to argue over the specifics of her ownership with this man, and he feels like heads might roll if he's forced to endure a moment of it tonight.

“Listen, I've been great,” he chuckles heartily. “I just came by to check up on you, see how you're doing.” He massages Blue's shoulder as he speaks, trying to coerce him as he does routinely. “See if your mind’s changed at all, because the price has.”

He sighs internally. “Has it now?”

“It has,” he hummed.

Blue’s irritation is getting the best of him. He's missing his favorite show.

“Look, Mr. Benny. If we could talk after this act, I would love i–”

“I'll give you 15 thousand for her.”

Blue almost chokes—and not just because you're on your knees again singing into one of your partners’ crotches about sucking and tasting him.

The price has tripled since last time. Fifteen thousand dollars, just for a night with you? You are certainly worth it, Blue would have to admit, but, Christ, was it a big jump.

“Fifteen thousand? One-five?” he clarifies, turning his body to face one of his clients.

“One-five. If that's still not enough, I'll give you 20. Call it a Christmas gift.” Blue nearly chokes again. “Just one night, Pleasant, that's all I'm asking.” Benny sighed, letting go of Blue in favor of snapping his fingers to get one of his bodyguards at his side with a suitcase. “I know she's exclusive to a very special client but you can't put her up on stage like that and expect the dogs to heel.”

God, the urge to say yes was stronger than anything he could ever imagine. Twenty thousand is a lot of fucking money. The things he could do with twenty thousand dollars…

His eyes looked back onstage, and your gazes met in the middle of you laying on the floor in between a man's legs, your back arched off the polished wood as your lips formed your wishes and desires for his body. At least, he assumes it's for his body. You belong to no one else.

Twenty thousand dollars was a lot of fucking money…

“Mr. Benny,” he begins, turning to face him again as he clasps his hands. Rubbing them together, he signals one of his own guards and smiles nicely. “It's a pleasure doing business with you. My friend here will help you work out the details of this negotiation.”

Benny smiles, a big smile that flashed one of his gold teeth. He claps Blue on the back, a hearty laugh coming out of him as he takes the briefcase in his hand. “Oh, Mr. P, I'm so glad you could come around!”

Blue smiles back and conceals his annoyance at the stupid nickname Benny had insisted on calling him, nodding at his guard and watching them both leave, a hand on Benny's wide back with the other braced over the gun hidden in the guard’s coat. Blue turns back to the stage, where both men are touching you too closely, knelt in front of you like your personal servants as you sigh and moan into the microphone. Your head is raised to the ceiling and you brace yourself on their shoulders as they touch you on either side of your body, closing you in and feeling you all over.

“Oh, yeah, baby, ooh. Just like that, ooh yeah.”

You belong to him.

You push open the door to one of the many bedrooms lining the Pleasure Hall, flicking on the light, which casts a golden glow over the room. Shutting the door behind you, you quickly shed the top layer of your performance clothes from your skin and fold them nicely on one of two chairs.

You’d worn a special pair of lingerie tonight. You’d just had them bought special with your allowance money from Blue, and you were more than excited to show him the spoils of his good nature toward you. Still waiting, you situate yourself in front of the golden pole on its little platform, leaning your back against it with your arms crossed over your head and your fingers gingerly stroking the metal rod.

As if on cue, the door opens to reveal your wonderful sponsor.

“There’s my favorite girl,” he smiles, closing the door behind him. “How are you, Birdy?”

You smile wide, shrugging a shoulder and keeping position. “I’m doing good. Enjoy the show?”

Blue wipes a hand down his face, remembering briefly the show you put on tonight and the offer that was presented to him for you, along with the hefty donation he suddenly received in support of Lennox by an…anonymous donor.

“Your show…was fantastic. So good, in fact,” he sits back in the other chair, crossing his legs as spreading his arms over the back, “I would like my private show.”

You smile, “Whenever you’re ready then, Mr. Blue.”

You and Blue had a routine.

Ever since you joined Lennox, Blue has taken a special interest in you. Every girl he owns has a special little talent he uses to seduce men out of their money to put in his pocket. When you came to him—or, rather, when you were given to him in the hopes of putting you to good use—he was quick to discover your gift of song. He’d put you on stage for the first time, and it was the biggest kick in his business he’d gotten in years.

But Blue is selfish, and he wants you all to himself.

So after your shows, you come here, in what has now become Blue’s reserved room, and perform it once more for him and only him. He loves to hear you sing to him, to seduce him with your smooth voice and then remind you who you belong to. It fills him with such light to know he has you in his pocket whenever he wants you.

The music begins to play through the room’s speaker, and your eyes close as you feel it, swaying gently as you sink into your routine.

“Baby, would you mind touching me ever so slowly?” you whisper, letting the music fill in the spots where your stage partners no longer existed.

Blue watches you, a primal look glittering in his eyes as he grip the arms of the chair so hard, he wouldn’t be surprised if he’d left imprints in the fabric.

“Cause I'm gonna bathe you, play with you, rub you, caress you.”

You come up to him, placing your hands on his thighs and leaning into his face, your lips inches from his. “I just wanna touch you, tease you, lick you, please you, love you, hold you, make love to you.” You sink to your knees in front of him, stroking your hands along his thighs and whispering dangerously close to the bulge in his pants as he watches you, enchanted by your voice. “And I'm gonna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you, feel you deep inside me, boo.”

“Oh, Birdy,” he rasps under his breath, his hands moving to cover yours as you stand once again, your ass in the air and your lips hovering over his own.

When you turn and make your way back to your pole, he has to catch his breath again as you sway your hips to the rhythm of the music.

The things you do to the pole could make him cry. He needs you so badly, he needs your little body to rub against his. You manage to hoist yourself up on the pole as you’d done with the boys on stage, supporting your weight upside down as your legs wrap around the top end of it. “Baby, would you mind tasting me? It's making me all juicy, feeling your lips on mine.”

Blue is so hard in his pants, he thinks he might burst just looking at you. You grind on the pole, and he knows he saw you make contact when your eyes flutter and your voice wavers just a bit, blending with the moaning lyrics of your song.

You keep teasing him, giving the pole everything he’s wanting from you, telling him everything you want to do to him but keeping your hands off of him all the while.

Blue raises his hand and curls his fingers to get you to step closer. And you do, making your way toward him too slowly to wrap your hands around his thighs once more. You lean forward and whisper in his ear, “I just wanna kiss you, suck you, taste you, ride you, feel you, make you cum too.”

A shudder runs down his spine as he pulls you back to look at you, a hand hooking around your inner thigh as your breath hitches a little. The music begins to go wherever it wants as you divulge into the ending, breathy moans and whispers and pleas for him to keep going when all he’s doing is putting his hand on your thigh and stroking it.

“Just like that, ooh yeah,” you breathe. “Shit, oh, oh, my, yes, oh, oh.”

Your face contorts with an imagined pleasure, your O-shaped lips and clenched shut eyes illustrating how you would look if he gave in to the song already. You’ll give him this—he lasted a lot longer than you thought he would.

The music finishes off, and you’re still unsatisfied. Blue’s face lingers away from yours, watching the pleasure in your face sink away as you look at him. His knuckle strokes your jaw, dipping behind your ear and easing down the side of your neck before hooking underneath the strap of your lacey bra.

“This is new,” he rasps.

You nod. “Mhm,” your voice is breathy. “Bought it just a couple days ago. Do you like it?”

He moves you to stand to your full height, towering over him in his seated position as he keeps his hands at your waist and turns you around to get the full view. It’s blue, all lace and no support, hiding nothing from him so he can see what you’re working with. The color is perfect with your skin, and the size is one too small so that it hugs tight to every inch it “covers”.

“I love it, babygirl,” he says, losing breath.

You preen under the brief praise, turning around again. “I’m glad.”

He pulls you close, digging his nose into your hip to smell you. His eyes close as he holds you still. “Mr. Benny came to visit you again.”

You frown. “I don’t like Mr. Benny. He’s pushy, and he smells like gas.”

“I know you don’t, baby bird,” he sighs, looking up at you again as you set your hands on his shoulders. “But I have a little gift for you.”

“What is it?” you ask, your eyes glittering at the prospect of a gift.

“Mr. Benny won’t be coming around anymore,” he smiles. “And he left us alone with a nice, big donation.”

You bite your lip, hiding your tiny grin. Good. You hate that scumbag. Whenever he managed to get close, he’d grab your arm or your thigh and touch you however he could. He was sticky and smelled like gasoline and was too warm.

“What’d you do to him?” you wonder briefly.

His thumbs rub circles into your sides. “Don’t you worry about that, little bird. He’s gone, I’m raising your allowance, and that’s all that matters.”

You smile wide. “Okay, Blue.”

“Now, what does my Birdy want tonight?” he asks.

You pretend to think, conjuring your song in your mind as you bent down to his lips. “I just wanna…touch you, and tease you, and lick you, and please you, and love you, and hold you, and make love to you.”

“Is that all?” he chuckles. “What else?”

“I wanna,” your voice is softer, breathier as you whisper in his ear and let your noses bump one another as you speak, “kiss you, and suck you, and taste you, and ride you, feel you…make you cum too.”

He shudders. “Yeah?” You nod, humming in his ear. He opens his fluttering eyes to look at you, his smile going sour as a new look takes his face. Primal and dangerous and the same look he gave you when you were on stage, rubbing your body against those boys while you looked directly into his eyes. “You’re gonna have to beg for that, baby bird.”

“Please?” you mutter. “Please, can I have it?”

He shakes his head, holding your elbows in his hands and caressing the length of your arms. “No… No, you can do better than that, can’t you? Beg me.”

You step closer between his legs. “Please, Blue, can I kiss you?”

He shakes his head. Letting go of you, he sighs. “You know, I don’t think you’re really wanting me, are you?”

You nearly whimper, sinking to your knees quickly as you kneel between his thighs, your hands on his knees as you set your cheek against the inside of his leg and look up at him.

“Please, Blue, please can you kiss me? I want you so bad, please.”

He considers for a moment, but he’s weak when you’re kneeling all pretty between his legs. He takes your chin in his hand and pulls you forward until his lips can crash against yours in a bruising kiss. You immediately sink into it, humming against his lips and becoming putty in his hands as you kiss him back.

Your hands find the buckle of his belt, and he stops you. “No, no, no. You gotta beg for that, too, baby. You gotta ask for the things you want. Isn’t that right?” he teases, though he’s completely serious as he stares you down.

“Please, Blue–”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he interrupts. “I let it slip the first time, but you’ve gotta do it properly.”

“Please, sir,” you correct immediately. “Please, can I suck your cock? Please?” You sound like you’ll cry. You’re probably aching with need right now, he can smell it off you…

“Well, how are you going to suck my cock if my cock is in my pants?” He casts you a dark grin, leaning back and shrugging his shoulders. “I think you skipped a few steps, Birdy.”

“Can I please take off your belt?” you ask, the frustration reaching your eyes.

He smiles slyly. “Yes, you may.”

You do, forcing open the buckle and ripping the belt from its loops to be rid of it. The heady scent of his cologne is sinking into your senses and driving you crazy. “Please, sir,” you whisper. “Please can I pull your cock out?”

“Go ahead, baby,” he relents, watching you with hooded eyes as your hand disappears into his underwear and comes back with his cock in your hand. He almost moans at the sight, his hard erection leaking precum already in the grasp of your little hand. Your thumb begins to stroke the length of him and his hips jerk slightly as he reprimands you.

“Have—fuck.” He takes a moment. “Have you asked for that yet?”

It takes everything in your power not to groan and roll your eyes at his insistence. “Sorry, sir,” you whisper. “Can I suck your cock now?”

“Please?” “Please?”

“Please who?”

“Please, sir.”

“Now put it all together.”

You’re going to lose it, and he can tell. He loves teasing you like this, he loves how impatient you get and how much more impatient he can make you still. The gentle squeeze of his cock drives him insane as he fights not to let it show.

“Please, sir, can I please suck your cock? I wanna make you cum so bad. I wanna be your good girl. Please?” you whimper. His head spins at your little rant, imagining every little detail your pretty lips wrapped around his cock.

God, the things you do to this man.

“Well, since you want it so bad,” he sighs. “Go on, baby bird. Get what you want.”

You immediately begin stroking his cock, encouraging the precum pooling at his tip as you lean forward on your knees and take the head of his cock between your lips, swirling your tongue over the slit and licking up the pearly white drops gathered there. His muscles tense at the feeling of your warm mouth on him.

His hands grasp either side of your head, tangling in your hair as one adjusts itself around the back. You tease his tip, licking and suckling and driving him as insane as he’d driven you.

“Good girl,” he moans, relishing the dip of your head halfway down his length. You grip his thighs and stroke them slowly as you wrap your hands around his hips.

“Look up at me, baby, look,” he says, shifting his hand in your hair to lift your head. You stay where you are, turning your eyes up at him as you suckle around his tip. His breath shudders.

His cock slowly fills your mouth as you take him farther down, taking your time to ease him into your throat. Your nose brushes his pelvis, and he chokes when he looks down at you through lidded eyes.

Your eyes prick with tears, clouding your vision. When you go to hum around his girth, you gag a little. The constriction pulls a grunt from his throat, and he opens his eyes once again to look at you with a devious grin.

“Good girl,” he huffs again. He draws out the word just as he draws your head back a little to pull himself out of your throat. You whimper lightly, a high-pitched and breathy sound that makes him bite his lip.

His hand flattens on your head as he cards his fingers through your hair. When he grips it, pulling on the hair at the base of your skull, you feel like you'll go limp as your mouth falls open a little more.

You breathe a moan and flatten your tongue along the underside of him. Humming again, you wrap your lips around him and start to bob your head again. He guides you, tightening his grip in an attempt to get control of himself.

You listen to him, to his grunts, the way he moans like he's going to blow any second. One of your hands shifts from his thigh, cupping his heavy balls in your palm and sighing at the precum spilling over your tongue.

“Oh, fuck, Birdy,” he huffs, his hips jerking up into you as he teeters on the edge. Just as you feel him getting ready to unload, he pulls you away and leans his head back.

You sigh and catch your breath, your tongue hanging out from your mouth as the tears welling in your eyes spill down your cheeks. Your jaw aches as you move it around to massage.

Blue huffs as he looks at you and your tear-stained face. He smiles a little. “You look so pretty like that, baby bird.”

“Thank you, sir,” you smile slightly.

He lightly smacks your cheek, and you move to stand. You turn toward the bed, crawling on top of it to stand on your hands and knees, waiting for him.

Blue comes up behind you, his hand smacking your side again and pulling you back by your leg. You turn to look at him, but he just picks you up and puts you back on the floor. You look up at him, obediently awaiting his next move until he's shucking off the rest of his pants and underwear and moving to be rid of his shirt as well.

You watch him undo each button as he stares at you with his dark eyes, burning into you with a glaring dominance. “Get on your knees.”

You do, shifting your legs underneath you and rubbing your palms into your thighs. When he's naked, he steps forward.

“Beg me,” he says.

You tilt your head, looking up at him. “What do you want me to beg you for, sir?”

He shakes his head, “Just do it. I wanna hear you beg for me.”

He towers over you, looking down his nose at you as his hard cock stands stiff in your face. You bite your lip, “Please do what you want with me, sir. I want to feel you, wanna be yours.” His face doesn't shift, unconvinced. “Please, sir, please use me. Wanna be your good girl, please.”

It feels out of place, begging him for something without knowing what it is, but you obey. When he's standing over you like this, intimidating you with his height alone, you can do nothing but obey and hope he's kind enough to give you what you want.

He sighs, “Such a sweet girl.” He sets a hand on your cheek, the other moving to your neck as he takes another step closer. “Open your mouth.”

You do, and he lines his cock with your lips before slipping himself back into the warmth of them. His cock hits the back of your throat, and it makes you gag again when he does it again. His grip on the side of your neck tightens, and he's almost guiding you again as he slowly fucks into your mouth, his eyes focused on you and his lips parted at the sight of you so undone.

More tears begin their descent down your cheeks, your mascara running as it does. Your lipstick has begun to smudge, red lining the base of his cock and smearing over the corners of your lips.

He shudders. “The things this mouth can do is magical. It's fucking perfect, baby.”

After a rough thrust into your mouth, your hands find his hips as you pull him back a little. You gasp, catching your breath as a cough rattles your chest. He only gives you a moment to adjust before his cock is in your mouth again.

He listens to you, the sound of your hums in the back of your throat being interrupted by the tip of his cock rubbing against it. He curses under his breath, holding you by your head and keeping you still as he continues to rock his hips into your mouth.

It's when you can't breathe once more that you tap your hand against his side quickly, pushing him back when he doesn't listen. You gasp, coughing again and keeping your hand at his waist to keep him back. You wipe at your eyes to clear them, looking at him once you've calmed and watching him stare at you like a predator would a hunk of meat.

“Sorry, sir,” you mutter, stroking your hands on his thighs again to appease him. He just smiles, running a hand through your hair.

“That's okay, Birdy,” he says. “Get on the bed.”

You stand on trembling legs, crawling back onto the bed for the second time on your hands and knees. Once you're comfortable, you lean forward to press your face against the plush, red pillows on the bed.

He sighs appreciatively, fingering the waistband of your lingerie. He unhooks them from your stockings and pulls them down your thighs, revealing your sticky, wet pussy. With a hum, he rips them up to toss the fabric away. Your breath hitches.

Blue stares at your pussy, watches you clench around nothing, watching your arousal seep from your folds. He rubs his thumb through your slit, coating it in your slick as your hips jerk in response. He licks his thumb, closing his eyes and humming at the taste of you.

His hands grope your ass, smacking you a couple times. You feel the bed dip behind you, and moan when you feel his hot mouth against your cunt. His tongue flattens against your dripping folds, collecting your arousal on his tongue as he hums roughly against you. His tongue digs insistently between your folds, and you feel him suckle around your clit.

“Blue,” you sigh. “Oh, please don't stop.”

He grunts into you like a crazed beast, groping your flesh and eating you up. When he pulls away from you, you whimper and feel your body tensing uncomfortably.

He shoves two thick fingers inside of you, pressing them as far as they'll go and stroking them roughly. You bite your lip to stifle your moans, fisting the sheets as you struggle to keep still.

“Fuck, you're still so tight,” Blue sighs. “You'd think I'd break you in by now.”

You wiggle your hips slightly, not entirely of your own volition as the thought of his cock inside of you excites your rushing blood. “Please,” you begin again, almost sounding whiny with how needy you are.

“Please what?” he asks. “What do you want, huh? You want me to fuck this little hole, Birdy? Is that what you want?”

You nod quickly. “Yes, sir, please! Want you to fuck me so bad, Blue, please.”

His hands massage your hips, “You want me to use you?”

“Yes!”

“You want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, sir!”

Without warning, he shoves his cock inside of you, thrusting all the way in with one slap of his hips. You moan out, gripping the sheet tight as you feel the glorious stretch of his girth.

He bends down over you, hooking an arm around your neck and pulling you up to support yourself on your hands. He pushes his fingers past your parted lips, making you suck your arousal off his fingers as he pushes your tongue down to the bottom of your mouth.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Love this tight little pussy.” He grips your waist, pulling out of you just to smack his hips into you once again. You let out a loud, breathy moan as he does. Feeding off your validation, his pace picks up as he begins thrusting into you at a punishing force.

You clench around him, your weak arms shaking as you try to keep yourself up. “Ah, please don't stop.” Your voice is teetering on the edge of a sob as he continues to fuck you like he's been starved of you for years. “Fuck, Blue, yes!”

“Yeah?” he grunts. “You like when I fuck you like this? Nice and rough?” His voice is low and gravely, depraved. “Does this little whore cunt like being fucked?”

You nod, letting your head fall forward. “Yes, sir!”

“I know it does.” A rough thrust comes with a low growl from him. “My cock hungry little slut needed this, didn't she?”

You nod again, clenching the sheets until your fingers start to tingle. The slap of skin on skin is loud and sharp, a rhythmic beat of slk! slk! slk! as you soak his cock in your arousal.

He pulls out of you suddenly. You whimper at the loss of his thick length, but you're interrupted when he shoves you onto your side. He lifts your leg, spreading you out as he sets it over his shoulder. His tip presses between your folds and he's thrusting again, bottoming out as the whole of him is sheathed in your warmth.

Your reaction is immediately, high-pitched moans worthy of a professional porn actress and clenching walls that squeeze his cock and make him twitch. “Fuck, look at you,” he huffs as he fucks into you. “Greedy little slut takin’ my cock. You my greedy whore? Hm?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, turning your head into the bed to stifle your moan.

“Nah-ah, talk to me, baby. Lemme hear it. You're my little fucktoy, aren't you?” He pulls your body closer to the edge of the bed, grunting.

“Yes, sir,” you huff. “‘M your little fucktoy. All yours!”

“Good girl,” he urges, shifting your legs again to close them to thrust into a tighter pussy. He curses again, you can feel each little movement of his cock inside of you and you whine as he thrusts into you, a steady in-and-out rhythm that drags along your walls and makes you light-headed.

“Fuck, sir, please. More, I need more,” you moan, giving him what he wants. His thrusts become rougher still, relishing in the delicious feeling of your pussy so tight around him. “Please can I come?” you cry. “Please, I needa cum, Blue. Please, please, please.”

He scoffs. “I don’t care, baby bird. Cum for me.”

Your finger finds your clit now that you have the permission to touch yourself in your hands. You rub tight, fast circles, ignoring the ache in your arm that quickly builds at the exertion. Your cunt tightens more and more around his pistoning cock as you get closer and closer to your own sweet release. The pleasure is so intoxicating, it melts your brain as you succumb to the pleasure.

He can feel you beginning to quiver, steeling his jaw as you do. “You gonna cum for me, Birdy?” he grunts. “I know you are. I’ve got you whining and moaning like a little bitch. Listen to yourself, so fucking pathetic.”

His words make you rub faster at your clit, building the pleasure as you balance on the edge, ready to jump off. “You wanna cum, baby? Do it. Do it for me. Cum for me, little bird.”

The coil in your belly snaps as you go flying off the edge, your release crashing down around you like a mighty wave. You cry out, moaning loudly, whining like a little bitch. “Ah—Blue! Fuck, yes, yes, yes! Fuck, I’m cumming.”

He fucks you through it, his pace quickening and his cock twitching as you clench around him, gripping like a vice. His breaths are growing louder, his control slipping piece by piece.

As you come down from your high, the sensitivity kicks in and the tingling of your release turns into a dull burn. Your clench for a different reason, reaching toward his abdomen to push him back, to no avail.

“Blue, sir,” you mumble, stuttering slightly. “Fuck, slow down.” He doesn’t listen. “Blue, please, slow down. I—Ah—I need a second.”

He keeps thrusting away inside of you, his hips not stopping for a moment as he continues to use your little hole like you’d begged him to moments before. “Blue–”

“Shh, just shut up,” he breathes, impatient. “Shut up and take it, little bird. I know you can do it. You were made for this, yeah?”

You try again. “Bl–”

He pulls out of you quickly, spreading your legs wide and turning you on your back just so he can shove his cock back into your sensitive cunt. When you whine, he slaps a hand over your mouth to silence you. His face, inches from yours, is marked with lust and impatience and something far more primal as he stares at you. “Shh,” he eases, his punishing pace immediately as he ruts into you, an unsentimental beast. “The only thing I wanna hear coming out of you are those little moans when I fuck you dumb, you understand me?”

You can’t answer, he’s got his hand clasped tight over your lips. His cock keeps pounding into you, his other hand gripping your thigh so tight, his dull nails dig into your flesh and leave little crescent marks. He’s usually not this insistent.

It takes a moment, but the sensitivity washes away into another wave of arousal as his hips keep slamming into you. You wade into the pleasure, letting it take you as you moan against his palm. He removes his hand, clasping it over your throat instead just to hold you as he thrusts. “Such a good girl, listening to me, moaning for more. You wanted it bad, didn’t you? That’s why you were on stage letting all those boys touch you like that, grinding on them like the little whore you are, huh?”

You nod, “Yes, sir.”

“You just wanted a nice fuck,” he scoffs. “You can come as much as you want, Birdy.” He punctuates his words with a finger to your clit, and your hips jerk at the feeling, not yet recovering from the sensitivity there. You try to wiggle your hips away, but he doesn’t let you as he starts with a cruel pace, playing with your clit like making you cum is a punishment.

Your moans are loud as he pleasures you, for better or worse. You clench his cock and moan his name and beg him for nothing in particular. “Blue, please. Fuck, please.”

He answers you by making his thrusts just a little harder, almost bruising with the way he slams his hips against yours. You’re light-headed as the pleasure rattles in your skull, in your bones. You feel tears pricking at your eyes as the pleasure builds, a blinding pleasure that warns another release. When you cum a second time, it’s with a whining sigh as the sensitivity carries on through his continued assault on your clit.

You’re out of breath, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to convince him. “Slow down. Ahh, fuck, Blue, please.” But he’s not convinced—or he doesn’t care. He keeps fucking you like he’ll never touch you again.

His thrusts start to become sloppy, and you know he’ll cum soon. The faster he does, the faster you get a moment to recover from your consecutive orgasms and let your body rest. You clench around him, grinding your hips to meet his thrusts as you coax him closer to his own release.

Blue’s cock twitches and he groans. Just as you’re expecting him to cum inside of you, he pulls out with a heavy sigh. He grips the base of his cock, staving off his release. He leans over you again and kisses you roughly, a hand wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you up enough to sit. You close your legs, but he forces them open once more as he continues to kiss you.

His hand massages the inside of your thigh, and when his hand finds your clit again, your legs jerk. He keeps them open. You gasp when his hand rubs at your clit, fast and rough and making your head spin with how wonderful and how aching it feels. Your hips jerk up to meet his hand, but you also try to move away from him as your still-fresh release hangs over your head.

With the way he touches you, you’ll come again in no time, regardless of how fast it was. “Blue, please, ‘s too much. I can’t.” He just shushes you, rubbing a little faster.

You cry out when he pulls another orgasm from you, a sharp, aching one that fills you with so much ecstasy for a few seconds and quickly falls back into a stinging pain. And just as you suspected, he doesn’t let up.

The tears fall down your cheeks, the pleasure and the pain mixing together too much for you to handle. He smiles at the sight of it, watching it roll down your face with a terrible grin. “So fucking beautiful when you cry for me.”

“Blue–”

“Shh…” His brutal pace on your clit continues on for as long as it needs to in order to bring another release from you. You cry when he does, a mix of a moan and a sob as your body trembles.

He finally steps away from you, giving you a moment to breathe as you lay slack on the bed with shuddering thighs. But he only gives you a moment.

Blue takes you in his arms and rolls you over onto your stomach. You gasp lightly, collecting your thoughts as he lifts your hips up to present you again. You whine insistently when he hooks his thumb inside of you, and you shudder when his cock follows.

“Ah, Blue!” His hands find your waist and use them to guide you on his cock, building his pace once again. You grip the bedsheets and mewl under him, your body arching into the bed when he pushes you down roughly.

He fucks you from behind hard and rough, punishing you for an unknown crime as your sensitive pussy flutters around him. It aches with a dull pain and with a mind-numbing pleasure. You’re conflicted by all the sensations, but the sense is slowly slipping away as he does what he said he was going to do: fuck you dumb.

You can’t think straight, not with the way his cock pistons inside of you. Your moans and sighs huff out of you as they wish, your pussy quivers with each rough thrust, your legs tremble as the slap of his hips make it harder to hold yourself up.

“You like this, baby? You’ve been fucking needing it.” A harsher thrust has you crying out. “Take my fucking cock like the fucking whore you are. Fuck, take it, Birdy. Just like that. Good girl. Good girl.”

The praise and the degradation mixes in your mind. You can do nothing but moan, doing as he says and taking what he gives you as you whine and moan. With the pleasure so hot in your body, the pain has numbed and left a tingly feeling that resides in your fingers, in your toes, in the tip of your tongue.

“Mmm, f-fuck, sir,” you mumble incoherently. “S’good. Feels so good.”

“Yeah? You like being fucked like this,” he says, grunting as he feels himself reaching his own limit.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, Blue.”

“You’re out of your little mind.” He punctuates his sentence with a harsh thrust. His hand snakes around your waist to play with your abused clit again. You mewl and wiggle your hips and do nothing more. He builds you up quickly, and you shudder as your release nears again. You don’t know how many times you’ve come.

“Fuck, Birdy, I’m gonna cum inside this perfect little pussy.” You moan at his words. “You want that? You want me to fuck my cum into your belly? Make you nice and round, perfect fucking belly for a baby.” His hips are getting sloppy, his measured thrusts not as rhythmic and his thrusts more shallow as he grinds inside you. A rough groan scratches his throat as he pushes in deeper and grips you harder. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby. Ah, fuck!”

He spills inside of you, hot and molten and filling you up to the brim as he shoves his cock as far as he’ll go. You shudder, a sobbing moan rising from your sore throat as you reach your own release, fluttering around him and encouraging him.

“Fucking take it,” he grunts, his voice low and gravely. “Take my—mmm—fucking cum like a—hah—a good girl.” Shallow, rough thrusts fuck his cum deep inside of you, and you whine at the sore pleasure it brings.

Blue’s breaths ease very slowly, the pleasure fading off until he can catch his breath and clear his mind. He stays sheathed inside of you, relishing in the warmth of your cunt for a little longer. He bends down, kissing the back of your neck and your cheek. He turns your head so he can reach your mouth, licking your bottom lip as he pulls you into a gentler kiss than the rough ones he’d given before.

When he pulls away, he takes your lip with him before releasing it with a dull slap back against your teeth. His hands push down on your back as he pulls out of you, sighing heavily. “Fuck,” he curses.

He lets you go, and you allow yourself to fall off the bed, your body heavy and limp. He stands, moving you over to lay on your back. He leans over your body, kissing your lips again and gently rubbing his knuckles along your cheek. You manage to look at him, offering what you can of a gentle smile as you try to stay awake, though the fatigue pulls at you.

He runs a hand along your face. “Would you mind singing for me again, little bird?”

Oscar Isaac taglist: @loki-hargreeves @hb8301 @tessarqctt @fanreader @alexxavicry @gublur @katsukis1wife @hatterripper31 @papichulo120627 @anotherblackreader @kmc1989 @the-nerdy-goddess @minigirl87 @woahhajime @notzammm Tag yourself here...

#blue jones #blue jones x reader #blue jones x you #blue jones smut #blue jones x reader smut #blue jones fanfic #blue jones fanfiction #sucker punch #sucker punch fanfic #sucker punch fanfiction #reader insert #female reader #fanfic #fanfiction #10 days of smutmas

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rosamndpike · 6 months

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hello! just wondering if you know of a tutorial for the lines going through gifs? and getting them all to match up? like in these sets /post/714978685858496512 and /post/733101286452559872 also are they overlays or how did you make them? thank you in advance!

hey! so, i've attempted to show you with a little tutorial on how i made lines like the ones here and here, i've not seen one around myself and decided to try this out one day and it didn't go too badly so, i hope this makes sense and helps. so, i'll be explaining and showing you how i did the lines on these gifs:

now, firstly i'm going to assume you know the basics and can create/colour etc a gif, you'll need your base gif ready to go. in this example i've flattened them to frames, but you can do this in timeline as well.

step one: add a new layer on top of the gif/smart object, and set up your brush ready. i personally have used 2px brush, 100px hardness, 100px smoothing and 75% flow;

the flow is the main thing i think that is more down to personal preference, it affects how the line draws/moves and will be down to a little bit of trial and error - i've added below how the lines look at difference levels of flow (no other setting from the above has changed just the flow)

step two: decide where you want your lines to link, i've always done from the centre of the gif but you could want your lines to meet up 100px from the left at the top and exit the gif 100px from the right at the bottom. no matter what, the best thing to do here is to add guides to your gifs. as i'm just going straight from the centre to the centre for every gif i add a guideline at 270px

step three: i recommend testing this all out on a separate canvas first to play around and see how you want your line to look etc, but when you're ready you're good to go. start from when the guideline is and draw your line until where you want it to end, the best way to show you this is on video so i've screen recorded the whole process.

youtube

it's honestly pretty straight forward, so i hope this all makes sense, and just have fun with it, i love messing around and drawing 30 versions of the same line until i'm happy with it!!

ALSO, in case you were wondering about the final gif in the wheel of time set, the moving line, that was simply an overlay from this video that i set to screen so the black background disappeared leaving just the line (i stretched/rotated/moved it around get it to start and end where i wanted it to! i just played around with the line thickness when drawing my lines to match as best i could with the line in the overlay!

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absolutelynotmate-archive · 1 year

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this one and the next- I'VE MOVED BLOGS! if you enjoy this and are looking for more, follow me @formulaforza

c.leclerc x female reader (no y/n, soulmates au) word count: 4.3k a/n: my first f1 fic 🫣 be gentle i'm new here

Can we talk later?

You mill over the text, shaken, unprepared for the what are we conversation just yet, planning on living in the climate-controlled artificial relationship ecosystem for just a while longer. You write out an answer, delete, rewrite until the words don’t look like words and your fingers tap the wrong keys, delete again, set your phone face down on the arm of the couch. Chewing on it for a few more minutes, you attempt to play out the conversation in your mind, pausing here, clipping that short, slowing that down, and then your phone is in your hand again.

You wonder if his phone sits deep in his pocket, buried somewhere in a bag, in his hand while he anxiously watches the typing bubbles appear, disappear, appear again. Maybe he’s as anxious as you, horrified, mortified, all the other -fieds at the thought of a label corrupting this, at the thought of rules and expectations and external opinions.

You can plan it out as many times as you want, you’re always going to get stumped, because, well, you have no fucking idea what you and he are. You’re friends, best friends, the exchange of knowing glances, soulmates, a familiar laughter, strangers, a fading fire, nobody knows. Why, why must this conversation be had? You’re having fun, it’s fact, unwavering and unrelenting fun. Keep on, keeping on, just for now, until things aren’t so fun, and then the serious conversations can be had.

You can’t tell him no, refusing to have the talk would be worse than anything that could possibly come from actually sorting this situation out, from deciding whether or not this version of you will live on, or if it’s time they get buried, locked away far from your mind, replaced by someone new.

Yes, you eventually reply. Dinner, my place?

There’s a pit in your stomach because you still don’t know what you’re going to do, what you’ll say, what your relationship is. His career, his lifestyle, it’s so, so different from yours. He’s home now, but he'll be gone soon, gone a lot, and you can’t just drop everything to follow him around, and you wouldn’t want to. You have no interest in every single move you make being talked about, photographed and scandalized. When you have a bad day, you don’t need the world to know, and when you have a good day, you don’t want to feel obligated to share it with anyone you don’t want to.

He makes you happy, there’s no denying that, and you’re pretty sure he feels the same way, but you’ve been happy before. You’d be happy again, a simple happy, a regular happy. Is he really worth all that?

He’s knocking on the door at seven sharp, bottle of red in one hand, flowers in the other. You blush, because it’s the first time he’s personally delivered you flowers, and he makes fun of you for it, says you’re too easy to please with a cocky grin on his smug face. He asks you to be his girlfriend over the pasta dinner. You say yes, pretend you never had a single doubt, kiss him in the lamp lit living room.

You meet his family in Monaco. It’s your first time on the paddock, first time at an F1 race, and you pick anxiously at your cuticles the entire walk there. You’ve been planning your outfit out for a week, and yet still changed five times this morning. You would’ve kept going, but you were going to be late. You check your purse a million times, terrified that you’re going to forget something. They come up to you in Ferrari hospitality and introduce themselves. His mom is kind and respectful, and hugs you tight. His brothers remind you of him, same laugh, same mannerisms, same sense of humor. “She’s a keeper.” Arthur tells Charles that evening as you all leave the track. He nods, agrees, pulls you a little closer.

You move in together a few months after that, and find yourself explaining the intimate details of the past situationship to your mother over the phone. She’s just looking out for you, curious as to the stranger from another country that will be living with her daughter after only a few months of dating. She was expecting to hear that you’d been fucking for six and a half months before making the jump to boyfriend and girlfriend, but you weren’t expecting her to be so incredibly investigative. “He’s famous, Ma.” You’d told her.

“So if he kills you, I’ll see it on the news before I hear it from the police.” You laughed. She didn’t, and you promised to be out to meet her as soon as you could. You and Charles booked the flights over FaceTime that night.

Your parents had always held out hope you’d move back home, get tired of Monaco and all its pomp and circumstance and come crawling back to a twin bed in the land of dull beige apartments and gray skies. Charles impressing them was going to be twice as hard as it should’ve been, because the mere existence of your relationship was crushing their dreams for their little girl. He is an anchor, holding you steady in Monaco, stationary and happy and far, far away from them.

He’s him, though, so all he had to do was flash those endearing eyes and that charming smile and they were calling him their son-in-law by the time we were eating dinner in the swankiest restaurant your hometown had to offer. You didn’t know it then, but he sat on the porch with your dad one morning and said he wanted to marry you. “Of course, you do.” Your Dad had said. “For your sake, I hope she wants to marry you.”

You did–want to marry him, and you danced with your friends and family into the morning on that summer evening, the air perfectly warm, the sun perfectly shining, a wedding band perfectly sat on your finger. It was the single most fun evening you’d ever had, celebrating the love you have for your husband.

It takes a while to get used to that. Your husband, Charles.

“We’re not, not trying.” He told your grandchildren hungry parents at Christmas. You were mortified, wishing you could curl up into your own skin at the thought of your parents, especially your father, knowing exactly what’s happening in your sex life. It’s a year and three months to the day when they’re at your house in Monaco. You’re on the couch, raggedy pajamas and hair that hasn’t been brushed in three days, minimum, watching Charles carefully place your Mother’s littlest grandchild into her arms. He’s a month old, your son, and it seems like he’s already so big, but when you see him in your Mom’s arms, tiny wool socks slipping off his feet, you’re reminded just how small and dependant he is on you, both of you, to keep him safe from even his own fingernails.

If you thought keeping mittens on the kid or waking up in the middle of the night to make sure his chest is still rising and falling was touch, nothing could’ve prepared you for that little shit learning how to open the babyproofed kitchen cabinets. The terrible twos were indeed, terrible. So terrible, that you’d decided hey, let’s do this again. Dragging yourself to those home races was anxious then, but now you’re chasing around a two year old, hoping and praying he doesn’t say anything or eat anything or, God forbid, break anything.

Somewhere in the mess of it all, Charles was having his best season. The championship was so close he could taste it, and you made sure you were there, front and center, cheering him on when he finally achieved his dream. ‘It’s for my Father, and for Jules, and for my kids.” He’d said, teary eyed. He didn’t need to dedicate it to you, he never needed to prove anything to you, to show you his greatness. You loved him as he was, world champion or not, but you still hugged him with all your might in the middle of the track, still kissed him like there were no cameras and no people watching, because, for that immortalized moment in time, nobody was there but you and him.

He smelled like champagne for three days, and you’re not sure you’ll ever bounce back from the celebrations that night, a permanent hangover and a queasy stomach at the mere mention of a top shelf tequila that shall not be named lingers on for years to come. Everything was perfect, though, and it was all so worth it. Two parents in love, chasing their dreams, a big house on a hill, a little boy and a tiny girl with the world at their fingertips. Your little family was so cliché it hurt.

Before you knew it, you’re dropping your boy off at his first day of school, and you’re pretending not to cry while Charles laughs sweetly, wiping the salt from your face with the pads of his thumbs. He’s gone racing, and you’re splitting your already short time between this afterschool activity and that. When he’s home, he tries to shoulder as much of it as he can, and sometimes it feels like you kiss each other goodmorning and don’t see the other until you kiss again goodnight.

Charles retires when the kids are eleven and eight. They understand, but they don’t. Their father is just their father to them, they can’t yet wrap their heads around the true passion he has for racing, the way it courses through his veins and occupies any free space in his mind, They don’t understand what it’s like to love something so purely, to know it’s what you were put on this Earth to do, not yet.

It gets easier, for a while. There’s an adjustment period, and then you slip into a new routine, one where he tells the kids goodnight, and goes to sleep a few hours later rather than calling from somewhere else in the world and still having a million hours left in his day.

The kids only get older, though, and their lives just get bigger, there’s more responsibility to shoulder, more things that need to get done. They develop new hobbies, add new sports practices and clubs and events to your already chaotic schedule. You’re tired, like, all of the time, and fight more than you ever did before. “I didn’t even want to be with you in the first place.” You said once, in the middle of your messiest argument. You two didn’t speak for three days, no hello, no goodbye, no tired small talk about your days or arguments about spending time with certain kids. On the third night, he slept on the couch and it felt like he had never been farther away. You made up the next morning.

At least, you told yourselves you made up. It only took a few days to slide back into the same stuff, hanging on by a single thread until a new fight came along to be the messiest one. You both tried to keep it quiet, hide it from the kids and your family and your friends, let everyone go on believing you were this perfect couple with this perfect life and perfect family. Nobody needed to know your relationship was going through the wringer each and every day, and you were convinced nobody was the wiser. “Are you and Dad going to divorce?” Your sweet little boy, the one who was now three inches taller than you, asked as you dropped him off for his first day at a new school.

You called off work and went straight home, waited for Charles to get back from dropping off the younger one, and were crying on the couch when he got home. The two of you talked until it was time to pick them up, and then you talked some more in the privacy of your room when you got back. It was the first time in a long time you actually talked to each other. You’d spent years speaking at each other, losing yourselves, losing each other, losing everything that mattered.

“Your parents are so in love,” Your boy’s girlfriend–yes, he has a girlfriend now–said at his little sister’s graduation party. In a few short months, you’re going to be empty nesters, and Charles is taking it particularly hard. He feels like he’s missed out on too much, that his relationship with the kids will never be what yours is. You try your best to comfort him, but you both know he’s right. You weren’t the only ones who made sacrifices for Charles to chase his dream, the kids were forced to share their father with the world, whether they liked it or not.

Charles was an emotional wreck the weekend of your little girl’s wedding. From start to finish, he was moments away from shedding a swimming pool’s worth of tears. He was so happy to see her so happy, and it was bittersweet for him, giving his little girl away, knowing that she didn’t need him anymore. He understood now what your father had meant all those years ago, that it was impossible not to love her, and that anybody lucky enough to be loved should never take advantage of it for even a moment. You danced together at the reception, laughing and reminiscing about your own. You’d asked, jokingly, if he regretted marrying you. “Never.” He said, without elaboration or grand gesture, and you knew he meant it, despite the challenges you’d faced together.

Before you knew it, there was another Charles running around the house, laughing that sweet belly laugh and harboring all the innocence of the world in his big doe eyes. You’ll never be able to explain to anyone how much that meant for Charles, a grandson named after him. It was as if every doubt and insecurity he’d had about raising your kids was silenced. As if you son was telling him, you built me, Dad, thank you

The years faded into each other, both of you graying and aging with an optimistic grace. Your kids threw you a surprise 40th anniversary party, and you thought it was impossible to feel so surrounded by love. You danced to your wedding song, resting your head on his shoulder like you had all those years ago, laughing at his stupid jokes and silently reflecting on everything that got you here. It was never easy, it was never going to be, but it was so worth it, to love him and be loved by him.

And when your memory started to escape you, when you searched for a younger version of him in every room, he stayed by your side as a stranger. In a moment of clarity, ones that were becoming fewer and further between, you’d asked him to promise you something. “Let me go first.” You pleaded, feeling all the weight of a life without him, knowing that if he dies before you, you’ll forget he was gone and be forced to relive the sorrow over and over again.

As your breathing slowed and the sounds of the world faced away, his hand stayed on yours. It’s only a matter of time, now. You’ll be gone soon, leaving behind the wonderful life you’ve created. “Wait for me wherever you go, mon ange.” He whispers in the stillness of the hospital room. “I will find you again.”

– – – –

You see him for the first time at a café. You’re sixteen and don’t even like coffee, but your best friend is dragging you in. He’s working behind the counter, flustered and busy, running around mixing drinks and taking orders. "Que voulez-vous commander madame?” He asked your friend, and she ordered. “Et vous?” I don’t drink coffee, you told him. He smiled, goofy, something familiar in his eyes. You noted his nametag, carefully drawn on with a chalk marker. Charles.

He calls out your friend's name a few minutes after, and sets two drinks down on the counter. Her name is written messily on one, his phone number on the other.

You spend the next month stopping by the shop randomly. Sometimes he isn’t there, but when he is, he makes you a different drink every time, his number scribbled on the side without fail. It takes the whole month before you’re convinced to actually call him, and he doesn’t answer. You leave a message.

Your first date is the weekend, coffee in the morning. Because, of course it is. He pulls out your chair on the patio of the small shop and the first date turns into a second, lunch in the park, and then a third, dinner at your favorite restaurant. Not once do you run out of things to talk about, something vast and unfamiliar and welcoming about him. In the silent moments there is solace, warm and comfortable, like you’ve known each other your whole lives.

Nobody believes in your relationship, not really. You’re fighting the odds from the time you decide you’re not going to break up before going to university. Everytime you catch up with friends from home, they seem surprised to learn you’re still together. Family whispers, tells you it’s not going to last, that you should prepare yourself. But you and he know something nobody else does, acutely aware of the draw and connection you share. A once in a lifetime, once in a millenia, once upon a time love story written just for the two of you.

When you graduated, a cheap, shiny engagement ring on your finger, he was watching with a proud smile and a bouquet of flowers. You went home together, to your dumpy little apartment, paid for by your waitress shifts and his hours at the café. He cooked dinner, you ate off paper plates in the living room and made infinite, optimistic plans for your futures.

You could dream far and wide, but when it came down to it, anything would be heaven if he was there. Cheap dingy apartment and barely paying jobs felt like the lap of luxury with him by your side.

This time though, your story is much more tragic. Lovers fated for a John Green novel, a manic pixie dream girl to live on in montages on tiny phone screens, destined to be someone he thinks of in dark lonely rooms or when someone doesn’t answer his call.

He realizes a year and a half after the abrupt end to your story that he can’t remember your voice, your laugh, your smell. He spends the day watching videos of you, re-memorizing the way you spoke, your mannerisms, you. He’s moved out of the apartment, and your parents have all your things in boxes in their attic. He drives into the early morning, stopping once to use the bathroom, nothing more. When your Dad opens the door in the middle of the night, he gives Charles a heavy hug and leads him to the attic. It’s there, under the A-frame roof, amongst the humid air and cobwebs that you are immortalized. Beyond the dust is everything that made you, you. Forever young and hopeful and in love.

In a cardboard box labeled your room, corners dark and misshapen, he finds a stack of disposable coffee cups, familiar label printed on the cleaned cups, familiar number scribbled on each one with the haste of a seventeen year old boy’s black sharpie. He had no idea you’d kept them, the stupid advances of a shy boy enamored with the pretty girl.

He moved forward, somehow, sometime later. But, he never moved on, looking for your smile, your sense of humor, your heart, in everyone who followed.

– – – –

The next lifetime is spent platonically, a lifelong companionship that nobody else could ever fully understand. You were old souls, cherishing the minute details of the world and longing for something simpler. There was no longing, or waiting to meet. You’d known him for as long as you could remember.

He was a brother, without the blood. Charles the comedic protector, walking on the outside of the sidewalk and then promising to use you as a human shield, a plus one to a wedding when your boyfriend dumped you the night before then did the chicken dance in front of strangers just to get an embarrassed laugh out of you. Charles, who walked so you could run, who jumped to make sure you wouldn’t fall, who held you back so he could throw the punches.

When you met his wife for the first time, then barely his girlfriend, you’d made him promise not to fuck it up. “She’s too good for you, Cha.” You’d told him, because it was true.

When she put you in a purple chiffon cupcake dress at their wedding, he struggled to bite back laughter while you walked down the aisle. You flipped him off with your eyes and he looked to Arthur, who was cracking up beside him.

“He looks just like his Dad,” She said, holding your son in the hospital. Thank God for that, Charles said, and she smacked his arm.

“We can only hope yours doesn’t suffer the same fate.” You said, a smug expression on your tired face.

He went first this time, a million years later. You held her hand at the funeral and kissed the boys’ cheeks, tears pricking your nose when their grip on you tightened.

There was comfort in the grief, something sure and steady in you, this wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last.

– – – –

Yes. Dinner, my place?

He gets there at seven, wine and flowers in hand. Your heart sinks and you’re ready to have a panic attack. You can’t do this to him, he’s too sweet, too kind. He leaves your apartment an hour and a half later, and you cry for what feels like the entire night. The flowers are in the trash the next morning, because you can’t bear to look at them.

“Do we have to watch this?” You asked, sitting on the couch next to your boyfriend. I thought you liked it, he’d said. There was nothing you wanted to watch less than Charles winning his first World Championship, watching him celebrate on the podium, kissing his girlfriend for the whole world to see. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel, it was a combination of ache, longing, joy, and pride. None of which were your place to be feeling. “Just, turn it off, please?”

You threw up three times on your wedding day. Something was wrong, you knew deep down that you were making a mistake, but you didn’t have the resources or the balls to do anything about it. You knew you’d be happy, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something better was out there somewhere, that your soulmate was walking–or driving–around somewhere in the world. You went through with it though, never knowing for sure the reason behind your tears at the altar.

Things were good, until they weren’t anymore, and you find yourself in the aftermath of a messy divorce and a messier custody battle. You live back in your hometown, the one you swore you’d never live in again, in a beige apartment that doesn’t belong to you. It’s all you can afford, and you need your parents' help with the kids. Not that you found yourself with much time to look back on your life, but when you did, it wasn’t the sunshine, roses, and simple happiness you’d aimed for when you opted down this path years ago. You found yourself wondering, more often than you’d like to admit, about what could have been, about what almost was.

Your son, because the universe is sick and twisted and determined, decides he wants to be a Formula One driver. He must get it from his father, the drive to chase his dreams, because it certainly didn’t come from you and your desire to settle for something simple and regular.

You don’t know how you manage it, the financial aspect of what feels like the most expensive dream in the world, but you do. Before you know it, your leg is anxiously bouncing for what feels like nine straight months. Watching him drive horrifies you, leaves you shaky and exhausted even when everything goes right, but especially when anything at all goes wrong.

Your name on his lips is startling. You vaguely recognize it, turning to a familiar face that matches the maturity of the voice. It’s him, because who else would it be? “Charles?” You say, and you feel twenty-something and insanely vulnerable again.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

“My boy.” You explained.

“And, his father?” He asked, something strained in his voice. Hope, maybe. Or boredom. You don’t know him the way you once did, and he’s even more closed off than before.

“What about him?”

“Is he here?” He said, hanging, something unsaid stuck on his tongue. You gave him the room to speak. “With you?”

You shook your head. “He’s here, but. We’re. I’m divorced.” You admit, something about it still sounds so taboo, so scandalous. Like it’s something you should be ashamed of. “You?”

“Widowed.” He said, and you inhaled sharply.

“What was her name?” You don’t know why you said it, but it was coming out of your mouth before you could catch yourself, before you could express your sympathy. He told you. You’d never heard a name sound so sad. “I’m so sorry, Charles.” He swatted your words away, shook his head. “What was she like?” His face brightened, like nobody had ever asked what she was like. It was as if he had been desperately waiting to tell someone about her.

He smiled, thought about it for what felt like a hundred laps. Quietly, practically under his breath, he spoke something you were completely unprepared to hear. “You,” He said. “She was a lot like you.”

<3, mack. hope you enjoyed, if you did, please don't be a ghost reader!

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junnieverse · 7 months

Text

FIRST DATES ➳ TOMORROW X TOGETHER

➙ what your first date with txt was like

pairing: non idol!txt x afab!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: not proofread, lowercase intended

a/n: what's your ideal perfect date? personally it depends but I've always wanted something interactive and fun such as an arcade date or even mini golfing (enha and possibly zb1 versions coming soon)

🖇️ — 최수빈 ; SOOBIN !

↳ outdoor cinema date

after many failed dates and relationships, you weren't expecting much from the blind date your friend set you up on today

you both had texted each other, still unaware of how the other looked wanting to keep it a 'suprise' until the day of the date but suprisingly you both got along over the phone

you had suggested a movie for your date and soobin thought an outdoor cinema would be perfect

to say you were shocked first meeting him would be the understatement, you did not at all expect soobin to be that handsome and he didn't expect you to be so pretty

"W-wow... I mean, hi, my name is Soobin." he nervously introduces himself bowing

you both got to talk a little and get to know each other before the movie and everything was smooth sailing

during the course of the movie, soobin even tried the classic yawn and arm over the shoulder move

ofcourse you thought it was cheesy but nevertheless you moved in closer to him making him blush profusely

after that great date, you both maintained contact and even had a few more dates after that before officially dating

🖇️ — 최연준 ; YEONJUN !

↳ beach date

dating had never been part of your agenda whatsoever but you decided to join a dating website and see what happens

that's where you matched with choi yeonjun and he was the first to message you with the cringiest pick up line known to man... but he still managed to make you laugh

' Are you a photographer, because I can see you and I together '

' Wait that's not how it goes, I can PICTURE you and I together, how do I manage to mess that up too '

after his failed attempts to rizz you up, you both started talking and decided to meet in person for an official date

on the day of the date, you both decided to have a picnic at the beach and having bought all the food, yeonjun catered by bringing the blanket and umbrella so you wouldn't burn

the day was spent simply laughing and getting to know each other

yeonjun also happened to have brought his polaroid camera with and captured a bunch of photos of you, the scenery and the both of you

"So maybe my pick up line wasn't far off, I was able to picture us together." he jokingly says making you playfully roll your eyes

🖇️ — 최범규 ; BEOMGYU !

↳ laser tag date

you had been friends with beomgyu for awhile now having been in the same friend group but your dynamic changed after you both shared your first kiss during a game of spin the bottle

you had thought nothing of it at first until you realised he was all you could think about and you were inevitably crushing

taking that leap of faith, you decided to ask him out expecting to get rejected anyway but he suprisingly agreed

you were both big on doing something super fun and so when the suggestion to try laser tag came up you had to try it

"If I beat you, you owe me ice cream and if you win, I'll get you whatever you want." you suggest out stretching your hand as he shakes yours sealing the deal

confidently going in there you thought you would be able to beat beomgyu forgetting how great his aim was

he knew he would probably be better than you but despite making that deal he still wanted to get you your ice cream

"I'm sorry for shooting you 10 seconds in, how about we get some ice cream still, my treat." he suggests slyly putting his hand into yours making you blush as you try to hide your smile

"There's that smile I love."

🖇️ — 강태현 ; TAEHYUN !

↳ cafe date

taehyun happened to be a member at the gym you worked out at and during your workout he happened to help you spot and he soon became your 'gym buddy'

you soon grew a great friendship from that but I never went anywhere past the gym

that is until taehyun mustered up the courage to ask you to get coffee with him after a workout you both had and you ofcourse agreed

the cafe was a great choice considering it was a very peaceful place you could both get to talk and get to know one another

you actually got to see a more softer and even smarter side of taehyun during your date you never thought you would get to see

in the gym he was usually funnier and and casual but during this date you learnt so much more from this sweet guy

"Well I'd like to think we can meet more outside of the gym. Maybe ice skating next week?" taehyun asks hoping for a good outcome as his eyes light up at your response

"It's a date." you tell him giving him a short peck on his cheek

🖇️ — 휴닝카이 ; HUENINGKAI !

↳ escape room date

you had first met kai through his sister who you were friends with and it was rather obvious he was completely smitten when he would always get so flustered around you

you had waited for the longest time for him to finally ask you out and when he did, he bad suggested an escape room date

you had once mentioned how you always wanted to try going to one and so this was the perfect opportunity for kai too

he wanted to show off his great logic skill figuring out the different clues and you found it impressive and attractive

"Wow Kai, you're really good at this." you praise him as he evidently turned red

at some point you got stuck on a certain clue and went up to kai to figure it out with him and having you so close to him almost made him lose consciousness

his brain stopped working momentarily from the close proximity but you both worked well together

the escape room date was a great success because you got to do what you've been wanting to and with your crush

you both decided to go have a late lunch together after that and planned future dates to come

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nerdieforpedro · 5 months

Text

A New Tradition with Frankie

Frankie "Catfish" Morales x GN reader

Fanfiction rating: Teens and up

My blog overall is 18+ MDNI

Masterlist / Frankie “Catfish” Morales Masterlist

Summary: An adventure in baking leads to fun and laughter at your expense. But in the end, his smile is what matters.

Warnings: likely bad baking directions, jokes in very poor taste, cursing, Frankie having fun at your expense, domestic fluff

Notes: I wanted to give Frankie some fluff. In my previous Frankie Fridays, I've been having that man work through his trauma. He needed some pure fluff and laughs. I did look up how to make gingerbread cookies but unlike many of the wonderful baking posts by @avastrasposts I have no idea what I’m doing. 😆 I made a post yesterday about what my chocolate chip cookies looked like and I cannot be trusted with an oven.

Word Count: approx. 1.2K

The directions had been clear and you read them twice before starting. You even tailored your shopping list to them and had double checked you had all the ingredients two days ago. Why do they all look like piles of lumpy dirt?

Now the ginger, cinnamon, brown sugar, molasses give it the brown color which makes sense. The wet ingredients you added after the dry because that’s what they always did on one of your favorite shows ‘Nailed it!’ and you made fun of the bakers who dumped everything in at once. You swear you’re not like them. You promise.

The dough sat in the fridge for two and a half hours. The minimum was two but you were checking emails on your phone and lost track of time. A rolling pin was bought for this, you hadn’t owned one, never needed one but you got one. A good one not from the dollar store, but from Target. Rolled out the dough, shaped the little gingerbread cookies, set the oven to 350 degrees and put them in, rotating them halfway so they would bake evenly. The cookies had been rising and rising and maybe they rose a bit too much, but maybe it would fall like a cake. They all rise and fall right?

But now, these cookies mock you, they’re huge, puffy, oblong. Not the cute circles you’d cut out less than 30 minutes ago. What can you do with them?

“Hermosa (gorgeous), I’m home. Benny lost to the Raz guy again. He’s really got to train harder.” Your husband walked in, setting his keys in the dish by the door and slipping his boots off. He was making his way to the kitchen. You threw a dish towel over the cookies in a vain attempt to hide them. He’s a pilot whose job it is to keep track of minute details that can disrupt a flight plan. You’re not hiding anything.

“Hey Frankie. Benny lost again? Maybe he should take a break for a bit like you said.” You smiled, your fingers nervously tapping your thigh. He was scanning you and the room.

“Hermosa. What’s under the cloth? This isn’t the day you murder me for wearing shoes inside the house is it?” He laughed moving toward you and those abominations called cookies.

“No. And I mention one time how I don’t like dirt tracked in the house and you go right to murder Morales. Jeez.” You crossed your arms in false offense before pulling him close to you by his arms. “You have to pay the toll, you know. Just gonna walk in this house and think you don’t. Mighty full of yourself sir.” You grinned and placed a soft peck on his lips. Frankie smiled and put an arm around your shoulders, deepening the kiss before stepping back, holding the dishcloth.

“I’m a man who pays his debts.” He took one look at the oversized cookies and doubled over in laughter. “Hermosa no, baby why? These are the gingerbread cookies you talked about? They look like…like..”

“Don’t say it…” You covered your ears. You’d hear him anyways, but it didn’t stop you from being mortified that he saw them and what you both knew they looked like.

“Like what came out of Santi’s dog after he gave him that kibble with the extra fiber..!” Frankie continued to bellow with glee, clumsy stepping back. Your hands went from your ears to your hips, face burning with annoyance but also glee that he was able to laugh so freely. It used to be difficult to get a chuckle out of the man when he wasn’t with his brothers in arms.

“I used to like you Frankie. Damn it.” At this point, you’re biting your lips to hold back your own laugh. Morales is red in the face, starting to wheeze.

“Hermosa, you know I love you.” Despite his eyes starting to water, he’s stepping toward you, in an effort to get away from him, you move to the other side of the table when he easily uses his long legs to intercept and catch you from behind, nuzzling his chin in your neck while still chuckling. “I love you and your shity looking cookies.”

“You’re lucky, you’re cute and I’m a sucker for men who like my shity looking cookies.”

You finally gave in and giggled in his arms as he rocked you from side to side.

“Did you try them? Are they edible?” He asked, waddling back over to the cookies with you.

“I hadn’t tried them yet. I was so taken with what they looked like.” You admitted.

The both of you agreed to break a cookie in half to try. Now standing side by side, you counted to three and bit into the cookie. It was warm, fluffy and actually tasted sweet. Like gingerbread.

“Damn mi vida (my life), they look horrible, but taste great. This is your first time making them right?” Frankie asked, chewing it and downed the other half. He kissed your forehead, leaving a few crumbs from his patchy beard which you brushed off your head.

“Yeah. I wanted to try and make a tradition for us, and surprise you. I guess I did both. Not exactly how I planned though.” You finished your half of the cookie as well, licking your lips. Proud that you did at least make something that tasted good. In the midst of studying the cookies, you saw a glint of something. Turning, Frankie had pulled out his phone and was snapping pictures of the cookies. “Morales! Don’t you dare!” You lunged in an effort to grab his phone from him, he put his hands up and out of your reach.

“I gotta save the memory of these cookies! You understand mi vida?” That booming laugh of his returned as his hands snaked around your sides. You twisted your mouth, determined to let him know that you weren’t ok with him taking pictures of your baking disaster. But he was laughing so much more, more than he had been in months.

“Just don’t send them to the guys. Please Francisco.” His smile curved into a grin.

“I’m Francisco now? Well maybe I should, since I’ve been downgraded to Francisco.” He touched his prominent nose to yours, rubbing it slightly. It tickled and you drew back before rubbing yours against his.

“I just called you by your name. I’m serious. Don’t. Benny still calls me Baby Legs from when I did shots with you guys.” Morales bites his bottom lips before digging his face into your shoulder, you feel the vibrations of his laughter on your skin.

“I know, I know.” He assured you when he picked his head back up, he put his phone in his pocket and placed his palm on your cheek. “Next time we’ll bake them together, alright mi amor (my love)? We’ll make it a tradition like you said.” You both took another look at the bloated cookies and laughed together, echoing so the neighbors could hear if they chose to.

Tag List:

@fhatbhabie @morallyinept @pedritapascal @pascalsanctuary @nissaimmortal @grogusmum @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @goodwithcheese @iamasaddie @psychedelic-ink @megamindsecretlair @pamasaur @pedrodascal @marcus-is-my-muse @clawdee @mintypossum @trulybetty @perotovar @joelslegalwhre @josephquinnswhore @mandoisapunk @secretelephanttattoo @for-a-longlongtime @tessa-quayle @legendary-pink-dot @sin-djarin @maggiemayhemnj @rhoorl @magpiepillsjunior @intoanotherworld23 @linzels-blog @joelmillers-whore @guelyury @laurfilijames @missladym1981 @pamasaur @alltheglitterandtheroar @din-djarins-riduur @daddy-dins-girl @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @yorksgirl @saturn-rings-writes @gwendibleywrites @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @undercoverpena @musings-of-a-rose @gnpwdrnwhiskey

#pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #frankie morales #francisco morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x gn!reader #Frankie morales fluff

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 9 months

Text

[20:11]

Tags: Seo Changbin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, Dom! Reader, Sub! Changbin, cockwarming, edging (sort of) (m. receiving), body worship (m. receiving), piv sex without a condom, petnames, hints of Reader having a dacryphilia kink and being a little sadistic, praise (m. receiving), biting (m. receiving), marking (m. receiving), dirty talk, creampie and hinted at overstimulation (m. receiving).

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

Hardworking is arguably the first word that springs to your mind when you think of Changbin. From his career to his physique to how he treats you within your relationship. He puts 110% of himself into whatever he sets his mind to.

Tonight, as your hands gradually span his broad shoulders, you're more than appreciative of the hard work he's put in at the gym in particular.

"My strong man," you coo, watching the way he shyly avoids your intense gaze from the compliment. An enticing pink flush colouring his soft cheeks as your hands leisurely run themselves along his broad shoulders. The muscle underneath your palms is so firm and unyielding that you can't help the way your walls clench.

"Fuck," Changbin chokes out. His hands impulsively reaching out for you and resting on the curve of your full hips. You can't help the, admittedly, sadistic upturn of your lips watching him struggle to stay still like he promised he would. Ever the obedient boy.

"Bunny, you know better. I said no touching," you coo with a faux disapproving pout to your lip. Your hands continuing their exploration and appreciation of his muscular physique.

"I-I know," he chokes out, his body vibrating with immense effort to not fuck up into you or hold onto your hips too harshly for purchase, "You just- you just feel so good. I've been so hard for so long," he whines, frustrated tears building in his warm eyes.

God, he looks so pretty like this. Which only makes you clench around his girthy cock harder. Your wetness trickling out of your thoroughly filled hole, down his thick cock and heavy balls. You've been at this for some time now, in fairness to him. However, it's just so much fun pushing him like this. Plus, you really are enamoured with his gorgeous body. You can't help it.

"I know, baby," you soothe, dragging one of your palms along his large pec, delighting in the way he shudders underneath you when you brush his sensitive nipple, "but, I want to admire my gorgeous bunny a little more, okay?"

You don't miss the way he throbs particularly hard from your compliment. A choked whimper leaving his pink lips when you kiss along his neck and use your fingers to toy with his nipples. Pinching them lightly and tugging on them enough to elicit a shallow buck of his hips and broken moans to continue to spill from his pretty mouth.

"Bunny," you warn.

"I'm sorry," he rushes out, rubbing your thighs in an attempt of an apology. Trying his best not to disobey your command to not move as you continue to grope at his bulging muscles.

You do feel a tiny bit sympathetic for him. In all fairness, he's been mostly good for you since you sunk down on his girthy cock nearly an hour ago. However, his body is just so captivating and maybe you delight a little too much in making your adorable boyfriend suffer.

Case in point when you pinch his nipples between your fingers and lightly sink your teeth into his neck. Soothing the bite with your tongue. Laughing breathily into his slick skin when he whimpers brokenly from your ministrations. His cock throbbing inside of you and prompting you to tighten even more around him.

"My handsome baby," you drawl into his skin as your hands shift to feel along his large arms. Digging your nails into his large biceps and your insides flipping at the way he squirms underneath you. So responsive.

"Always so well-behaved for me," you praise between nips at his sensitive skin, his hands clutching at you desperately in an attempt to not move. To keep being good for you. "My big, strong bunny. Your muscles always make me so wet, Binnie," you moan into him, allowing him the slightest bit of friction with a miniscule lift of your hips.

He looks like he's close to tears and that just causes you to moan into the marks on his throat, more of your wetness gushing around him and your walls gripping him like a vice. "Aw, is my poor baby going to cry?" You ask, grabbing his face and turning him to face you. Your thumb dragging along his plump bottom lip as you slowly begin to move. Finally.

"N-No," he chokes out, shutting his eyes harshly from the way your walls drag along his cock, "You just- You feel so good," he heaves, his broad chest rising and falling rapidly underneath you. Your eyes drink in the way his pecs move with each movement. His arms flexing with the effort to hold onto you and not fuck you.

"You feel so good too, bunny," you mewl, finding a steady rhythm. Your eyes fluttering and mouth hanging open to let out pitchy moans when the head of his cock brushes against your sensitive walls. He cracks his eyes to watch you bounce on him. Alternating between your face, your tits jiggling with every movement and watching your puffy lips swallow his veiny cock.

"Can I move please?" He begs pathetically, his fingers biting into the softness of your hips, "Can I touch you please? I've been good."

You're feeling generous, and he is right. He has been obedient, like he always his, "Yes, Binnie."

That's all it takes for his grip to shift from your hips to your ass. Thick fingers digging themselves into your flesh as he angles himself to thrust into you. A startled gasp leaves your lips, joining the array of noises you've pressed into his skin. Your hands holding onto his biceps as his cock bullies the hypersensitive patch along your walls.

"Such a wet, tight pussy," he grunts out, the obscene noises of your drenched hole echoing throughout his bedroom. Your noises of pleasure only contributing to the erotic symphony.

"Your dick's so good, bunny," you mewl against his jaw, licking at his salty skin, "Always makes me feel so full. Could cum just having you inside me."

That sends him into a tizzy. His thrusts becoming even more frenzied. All you can do is cling to his muscular frame as he pushes you to madness on his cock. "Please," he whines above the lewd squelching of your slick folds, "Wanna feel you cum. Want you to cum around me so bad. Need it, please. I've been good. I've been your good bunny," he groans out borderline deliriously, reaching one of his hands between your thighs to rub frantic circles into your clit.

"Ah," you cry out, your thighs quivering around his broad frame. Your walls clench around him so fiercely you're mildly surprised he's still able to pull out of you. The simmering in the pit of your guts being stocked by every brush of his fingers and thrust of his cock. Your orgasm so close you can practically taste it on the tip of your tongue.

"Binnie- I'm- I- I'm close," you mewl into his skin, your teeth ghosting over his throat as the simmer feels more like a forest fire with every touch from him. It's a coordinated thrust along the most sensitive section of your walls and a particularly harsh brush of his fingers that causes you to give into the flames. Biting down a little harder than you mean to on him and your nails decorating his arms with crescents.

"Fuck," you distantly hear him whine before you feel warmth flooding your awaiting pussy. Ropes of his sticky cum painting your walls and, it just seems to go on forever. You suppose it should be expected since you kept him waiting for so long. Well, longer than he's used to. Perhaps you've spoiled him.

"I love you," you say into his throat between barely there kisses. You can't help but, add the slightest bit of additional pressure to the bite marks littered all over his skin. Giggling when he shudders and holds onto you more fiercely.

"I love you too but, stop," he pouts playfully, "I just came. Give a man a second."

You lean up to meet his lidded eyes with a glint in your own, "Oh but, bunny we're just getting started," and you grin at the way his cock twitches inside of you despite your fresh, combined releases still trickling out of you.

AN: It's officially Binnie day here so, Happy Changbin Day!!! The man who was almost my man when I first got into Stray Kids. Also, writing this reminded me how fun writing sub! Idol fics is and, that it's been ages since I've written something with a sub! Idol.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Do not repost, edit, copy and/or translate my work. I do not give you my permission to do so, nor will you ever receive it.

#seo changbin smut #changbin smut #stray kids smut #seo changbin x reader smut #changbin x reader smut #stray kids x reader smut

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teachugger69 · 4 months

Text

a helping hand

summary: when reader is expressing her frustration with her skin, spencer is there to help her feel better (basically)

content/warnings: negative opinions on acne, mentions of food

category: fluff! (I think lol)

word count: 1k!

a/n: i've been wanting to write fic's for awhile, but like actually writing them is HELL compared to just thinking of cute little scenarios in my head for fun 😭 soooo im just gonna post this one because i could care less for it (if i post one that i actually love and people don't like it, I WILL BE CRUSHED AND NEVER WRITE AGAIN.) but anyway! please give me tips/advice if you have any :)

For the first time in years, your skin was breaking out- and heavily, too. Sighing, you sat up on the cold bathroom counter, intensely observing your newly conceived blemishes. (for an extensive amount of time.) Growing up, your skin was never in that oh so desirable clear state that all the other girls had. Not that acne was horrific, but you just felt like the odd one out when everyone else looked like modes for Goop.

In the living room, Spencer pauses his reading to glance across the apartment to the bathroom, a bubbling feeling of concern growing in him. Placing his book down, he walked over to check in on you, leaning against the open doorway. "Is something wrong?" Your sweet boyfriend asked in a caring tone. Turning on the counter so that you were facing him, you shook your head. "No- I- I'm breaking out." You groaned, breaking the number one rule of dermatology as you touched your face. "Y/N... it's okay, that happens-" "No! Spencer, I can't be breaking out like... this. I look so... ugly. I've been sticking to a strict skincare routine for this reason, and-" before you could even take a breath, Spencer quickly placed a chaste kiss to your lips. "You're not ugly, nothing can make you ugly- even this breakout." He said softly as he finally pulled away.

Why did Spencer have to be such a sweetheart? He always found a way to make you feel better, and you hated him for it. The sweet boy kissed all the spots on your face that had been affected (which probably wasn't helping, but who were you to complain?) Blushing, you lightly push him away, making a false face of disgust. "I hate you." You giggled and rolled your eyes, making Spencer let out a sarcastic gasp. "I'll live." He leaned in to whisper into the crook of your neck, leaving featherlight kisses on your pulse point. His slender fingers sliding down to caress the silky purple PJ set he bought you so excitedly. "I think you're beautiful, Y/n, I wish you could see yourself through my eyes." The boy mumbled against your skin as he delicately tried to pull the waistband of your shorts down.

"Wait-" "What's wrong?" He asked softly and pulled away. "I just- sorry- I'm just trying to figure out why I'm breaking out." You sighed and scooted down the counter to look in the mirror again. Spencer watched sadly as he saw you looking at yourself in such a negative light. Your brows furrowed as you leaned in closer, observing all of the new ugly bumps on your face. It was only when you started you squish your skin together, attempting to pop a pimple, when Spencer quickly grabbed your wrists, pulling them away from your face. "Spencer!" You frustratedly groaned, looking up at him in offense.

"Sweetheart, as much as I don't want to support this ideology... if you want to clear your skin, touching the blemishes won't help- let alone popping them." Spencer says in an incredibly quiet voice, almost as if he was scared to say anything to hurt you any more than you already were. "I can't wait for it to clear up. I've been avoiding everything wrong for years- these need to go away." You complained but listened to the genius, knowing he was right.

"How about this- how about we retrace your steps- maybe we can narrow down why you're breaking out...?" Spencer suggested thoughtfully as his hand gently brushed through your hair. You thought it out- and it was such a good idea! You nodded enthusiastically and Spencer couldn't help but smile as he saw your mood instantly heighten. "Okay, well... my skin has only been like this for a few days." Spencer nodded, taking into consideration why your skin might be acting up- and then it clicked.

"Oh! What about that new foundation you bought?! The... Maurice one? I dunno... It was clear- and expensive." Your smile faded as you bit your cheek, wondering if it really was the cause. "Makeup by Mario, baby. But... I don't think it would be because of that- that foundation is really expensive- and it has so many good reviews." You defended- mostly because you didn't want to believe that the new $42 foundation he bought you was behind your skin nightmare.

Your boyfriend thought to himself once more before he spoke again. "I uh- I think I might know why, now." He said, timidly looking down at his hands as he fiddled with them. "Well... What is it?" "Baby, it's- I-" "Just tell me, Spence." "I think it could be your diet- uh- because recently you've been- well- treating yourself. I love that you're letting yourself indulge in those foods- but they're good in moderation, my love." You just looked at him for a few seconds before giggling to yourself. "That's what you were scared to say?!" You snort and look at the boy who seems absolutely relieved that you didn't take it the wrong way. "Well... yeah." He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I'm glad you told me- you're like... the only one who can get away with bringing up my eating habits." Spencer let out a breath that he didn't know he was holding. "O-Okay, good."

You hopped off the counter, leading the two of you out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. "Guess we're going to have to say goodbye to these..." You sighed as you grabbed a box of doughnuts- stocked with the chocolate frosted ones with sprinkles that your boyfriend loved so much. As the box hovered above the trash, Spencer yelped a childish "No!", before he quickly grabbed the box away from you. You giggled and looked up at your immature boyfriend with a judging face.

"Well... what if I said you look sexier this way That you look better and that you don't have to change?" He stammered- hands finding their way to your waist. "You're gonna seduce me- just so we can keep these doughnuts?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I just always think you look sexy- and the doughnuts are just a coincidence..." Spencer grinned slyly and let out a stupid little chuckle.

"You're really stupid for a genius, you know?"

#spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic

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cloverdaisies · 2 months

Text

# UR SUCH AN EMO! ｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

— choi chanhee x gn!reader

₊⊹⁀➴ description: the popular kid meets his unconventional match in one of the school’s most hated emo’s. from lab partners to cleaning buddies: the events that caused social royalty to fall in love with someone from the very bottom of the high school food chain. ｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

₊⊹⁀➴ genre: angst, fluff, enemies to lovers.

₊⊹⁀➴ word count: 4.1k+

₊⊹⁀➴ a/n: happy belated birthday @sanaxo-o , ily a lot, hope you enjoy this little piece i put together 4 u 🫶 it’s been in the works for a while but i really wanted to complete it for you. ｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

₊⊹⁀➴ warnings: mentions of bullying, frequent arguing.

The sound of crashing drums and noisy guitar riffs leaked from your headphones, lazily dragging your shoes across the pavement as you were unwillingly met with the gates of the hell that was school. As usual, the halls were like the inside of a incredibly overpopulated zoo, with heads being met with the sides of lockers and the boisterous roars of students celebrating the beginning of the last semester of senior year.

You couldn’t be more excited to finish school, considering school simply wasn’t the safest place for anyone with alternative taste in anything. You clumsily made your way to your locker, abruptly pausing the music in your headphones before placing them on the shelf and shutting it with a slam.

“Someone’s not happy.” You sighed at the voice beside you, a familiar voice that has haunted your nightmares since you were at least 14 years old. “If you wear anymore eyeliner, you’re gonna start looking like your cosplaying a panda.”

“Good one.” One of other boys perked up, cheering on the other with a pitiful snicker sucking up to him like a little minion in goggles and dungarees ready to steal the moon.

Sunwoo definitely wasn’t the nicest guy to be around in high school, it certainly didn’t help that your locker was conveniently placed next to his so you got the divine pleasure of seeing him everyday. It also didn’t help that his group of minions congregated around that space 24/7 during every break like they had nowhere else to be.

However, he wasn’t the worst of the bunch. If anything it was a boy called Chanhee, he always had something to say, in fact too many things. “Your headphones are making my ears bleed.” , “Try not to wear black challenge!” , or just simple things sometimes like “I HATE your shoes.” You couldn’t deny you brought that upon yourself after one time you’d made fun of the fact he’d worn a beret to school, yeah the entire, “dAd yOu CaNt dO tHiS i WaNna gO tO fAsHioN sChoOl” comment you’d made didn’t sit well with him.

He stood towards the back of the small circle, him, Sunwoo and Changmin were the only ones that had arrived on time surprisingly, as some of that group seemed to only turn up half way through the day when they felt like it. The others weren’t as bad either, Hyunjae was a nice guy and so was Haknyeon, the rest you hadn’t had too much interaction with, thankfully.

Breezing past them with a sigh, you threw your bag over your shoulder and decided it’s best to ignore them rather than make any attempt to clap back. Besides how could you waste anytime when you had the extremely fun class that was chemistry to rush to?

“Okay class, welcome. Take your seats.” Your chemistry teacher welcomed you in with a jovial smile, his combover gelled so stiffly it would survive a hurricane intact. "We're jumping straight into some lab work today, I've assigned you partners based on ability."

The entire class let out a unanimous groan at the thought of set partners, the excited glances made by bestfriends across the room being replaced with long frowns. However, for you, this was simply the best case scenario since you didn’t have any friends in this class. At least that’s what you thought until the teacher spoke some unfathomable words that sent you spiralling as soon as they fell from his tongue.

“Y/n, you’re with Chanhee on this bay.” He called from the second row, you glanced over at Chanhee who rolled his eyes with a groan grabbing his bag and grumpily shoving it down next to his stool.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not happy either.” You laughed sarcastically, sitting beside him as he rested his head on the desk in frustration.

The teacher went on to explain the test you’d be carrying out, different chemicals reactivity in water, recording the results and comparing the differences. It was pretty simple, since it’s was just a warm up to ease the class into the semester. Hopefully the time would pass fairly quickly so you wouldn’t have to sit next to mr. miserable for much longer.

“Are you just going to sit there or help?” You sighed, watching the boy sit up with sleepy eyes peaking through the strands of his dyed blonde hair. You passed him a pair of protective goggles, dropping them in front of him as he jolted awake.

“Sorry, I fell asleep you’re that boring.” He replied satirically placing his glasses on. He sported a false smile gleaming off his white teeth, his eyes creasing and smile lines faintly showing at each peak of his lips.

“Charming.” You raised your eyebrows momentarily, filling the plastic basin with water and placing it on the table in front of you. You took turns dropping chemicals into the water watching the the chemicals fizz or even catch light at times. Recording the sound and visual on paper as well as the time taken for it to stop.

“So why do you hate me so much?” You asked the boy curiously, crossing your arms as you watched him scribble down some more notes in his workbook.

“I don’t?” He laughed slightly, shaking his head, his golden earrings dazzling under the light. “I’m more annoyed I have to work with you, because to him, hopefully I can get your grades up.”

“So you’re crying because you think you’re doing charity work? Get over yourself.” You snickered, not breaking eye contact as he stared you down with an intense glare, his pupils darkened in silent rage.

“Maybe you should get over yourself, huh? You ever thought about that, don’t talk to me on your high horse when you had no reason to make fun of me for what I wear in the first place.” Chanhee spat, thankfully the ringing of the school bell paused the argument, diffusing the tension in the air.

The class was dismissed, and in your next few classes you couldn’t stop thinking about what you would have said back to him in that conversation. Perhaps something along the lines of “Isn’t that what you and your group have done to me everyday for the past 5 years?” If the bell hadn’t rang there would have probably been some sort of cat fight break out.

Soon it was lunch, and as you were sitting with your friends on your own table you felt an intense stare across the room. You looked up inquisitively at the feeling of eyes on you, spotting the same group of boys Sunwoo, Chanhee and the others you like to call the minions ( come on they literally have one called Kevin ) staring at you like hawks. You rolled your eyes and continued talking with your friends, eyes occasionally wandering to the other side of the room. You needed another drink, squashing your empty carton of apple juice and throwing it into the trash can nearby —landing a pretty cool trick shot.

“He’s not very happy with you.” A polite voice chimed from in front of you in the line of the canteen, “Said you got in a bit of an argument.”

You turned to see Haknyeon, nibbling on cherry tomatoes from a plastic packet like a small mouse, whilst heartily filling up his lunch tray and sliding it across the surface.

“I can tell that, the minions seem to have a bit of a staring problem.” You chuckled looking over the group where they were trying to land food into each others mouths from large distances, yelling boyishly when Juyeon caught a grape from across the cafeteria.

“He’ll get over it.” Haknyeon shrugged, as he got to the front of the line ready to pay for his food. He held out the plastic packet of tomatoes he was snacking on and offered. “Tomato?”

“No thanks, I hate them.” You laughed slightly, listening to the beep as his card was accepted on the lunch reader.

“More for me then.” He shrugged, stuffing his face with another before flashing the brightest and cutest smile you’d ever seen. You paid for your drink, sitting back at the table with a sigh, glancing back over at Chanhee as he smiled and laughed along with the other boys in glee.

Next period after Lunch was English, the sound of the teacher reciting quotes from The Great Gatsby singing you to sleep like a lullaby. It also didn’t help in front of you, Chanhee and Hyunjae were sat working away taking notes. After the argument you’d had this morning with him, the presence of Chanhee couldn’t put you anymore on edge.

“Hey y/n… y/n? Wake up.” Hyunjae flung a pencil towards your head, abruptly causing you to sit up straight at your desk eyes sensitive to the bright lights around you.

“What?” You rubbed the top if your head where he’d hit and groaned in annoyance. “I was getting a good amount of sleep there.”

“I’m having a party on Friday, you wanna come?” He asked, with bright eyes and a grin of genuine interest spreading across his face.

“You know, I always say no.” You replied with a sarcastic jingle, situating your head back on your desk and yawning tiredly.

“That is not happening. Even if you say yes there is no way I’m letting you come.” Chanhee chimed in with a shocked gasp, laughing to shake off the thought of you being at one of Hyunjae’s events.

“Can’t you just be nice? Y/n’s my friend and actually is pretty damn cool if you get to know-” Hyunjae laughed, thinking the other boy couldn’t be serious but was sharply cut off before he could finish his sentence.

“Are you even my friend?” Chanhee scoffed, immediately going back to his work and not making eye contact with him. Hyunjae shrugged at you, offering a sympathetic smile and going back to his own work.

You didn’t pay anymore attention to the pair of them, your head reintroducing itself back to the table planning to nap the rest of the lesson away.

“Jesus wake up.” You felt a push at your arm, “You can’t interrupt my sleep and then start snoozing behind me.”

You looked up at Chanhee in annoyance, raising an eyebrow whilst observing the disgusted look on his face. You smiled, taking a breath, choosing your words carefully before speaking to the brown eyed boy.

“Will you do us both a favor? And stop speaking to me?” You spoke calmly with a false sweetness loading each word like a bitter bullet, watching as his eyes rolled to the top of their sockets and back.

“That’s enough! Y/n and Chanhee! Both of you out of the classroom.” The teacher demanded, fed up of the disruption from the corner of the classroom. You both got up, more than annoyed leaving the classroom door with a slam.

“You’re so dead for this.” Chanhee glared at you in annoyance his palm resting against his forehead as he tried to destress.

“Deserved. If you kept your mouth shut we wouldn’t be here, would we?” You smiled as he sighed, it was quite funny watching him being kicked out of class for the first time — a place you’d been so many times before, but for him it was more than ego crushing.

“What brings you both out in to the corridors?” The sound of heels clicking down the corridor, has both your heads turning towards the principal with a sigh. “Kicked out of class.”

“Not intentionally.” You groaned, hating having to encounter the woman considering she had her eyes on you 24/7 for sleeping through classes and not doing any homework contributing to your grade.

“Y/n, you can’t be pulling down the reputation of some of our best students like Mr. Choi here. Seeing as the both of you aren’t in lesson, the music store room actually needs cleaning and it would be amazing if you could help.” She smiled, passive aggressively clasping her hands together like a fly.

You’ve got to be kidding me, was the only coherent thought to pass your brain, it was only the first day back and you’d already gotten yourself into so much in just a few hours. She brought you to the storage room, where there was clutter everywhere, cardboard boxes, trash, old instruments just scattered over the unseeable floor.

“It might take a few days, so I’ll make sure you both commit to this for at least an hour each day until it’s clean. No free periods after lunch, got it?” She cocked an eyebrow at the two of you, pulling the dusty chain for the dim light bulb that barely lit the room.

“Yes Ms.” You both replied unenthusiastically, beginning to move boxes to make some walking room amongst all the chaos in the room.

“I could really use a coffee right now.” You groaned as the door slammed shut behind her with a deafening screech, the both of you covering your mouths with your forearms due to all the dust.

“You’ve just slept like a sloth for an hour and you need coffee? Pfft.” Chanhee scoffed, adding on a cough at the end blowing the dust out of his face with a look of disgust painted all over his face. “I can’t believe you got me into this.”

“You got yourself into this because you can’t keep yourself quiet, you’re just always dying to say something negative to me.” You put down the box you were carrying into a pile in the corner, the fragile cardboard wearing thin.

“Only because you for, some reason, think it’s okay to be mean to me too!” He snapped back once again referencing the time you’d made fun of his outfit one day, pulling his red sweater over his palms as he lifted another box.

“I was actually gonna say earlier, don’t you think I hear the same thing everyday from your gang of guys? Do you think that one time I made fun of you outweighs the last 5 years of you making them at me?” You turned around, tears welling in your eyes as you spat your words of frustration out in to the air. A moment of silence lingering, the tension in the air so cuttable and cold it felt like shards of ice hitting your skin, the nerves and adrenaline painting a pink color your in your cheeks.

“Just because they made fun of you, or even just Sunwoo, does not mean for even one minute I thought that about you too.” He softened his voice having seen you get so vulnerable on the topic. “Plus you give Hyunjae a pass, why did you go for me? Why did you make fun of me? I still get slander for the way I dress and act to from them-”

“I could ask you why they get a pass? If they’re so mean to you and you don’t think they should be mean to me, then why are you even friends with them?” You laughed in frustration at the boy justifying years of torment to not only you but himself, it simply made no sense.

“Because I don’t know anything else? Is that what you wanted to hear?” He threw up his arms in frustration watching as your lips sealed in silence. “Or the real answer, because I’m too scared to say I got hurt by it? I don’t want to seem fragile or like I can’t take a joke. I’ve known them since when we were kids, they’re still my friends, my day 1’s. That’s the truth.”

Seemingly emotional, he turned around to the wall slightly frustrated he’d let his guard down, however also perhaps in a state of processing the reality of his own actions and feelings. As if he’d had some sort of emotional awakening, as if the cogs finally started turning on why he was so hurt by what you’d said to him. He was hurt by you, because he’d already had his confidence worn down by the same people affecting you.

The both of you began unboxing the items in the storage room in complete silence, not uttering a single word other than a few coughs or mumbles about how much dust was in the room. You began opening a rather dusty box, a large rectangular one attached to a smaller chunkier box. You opened it and let out a quiet “cool” as you found a brand new electric guitar attached to an unopened amp.

“Do we have a power outlet in here?” You turned to Chanhee with an excited smile, he didn’t look up at you but just pointed to a old looking socket on the wall. You plugged in the amp, attaching the connecting wire to the guitar and played a slightly off key chord due to the guitar being untuned.

“Oh my goodness, that’s so loud stop.” Chanhee laughed slightly, a giggle from pure joy, not a sarcastic or mean one, a genuine chuckle. “We don’t have time for this.”

All of a sudden he returned to seriousness, the laughter pausing as quietly you put down the guitar neatly in the corner of the room and unplugged the amp. Clearly it was impossible to clear the air or bitterness with this guy, you may as well give up trying to reconcile at this point.

“I see how it is.” You sighed, lazily continuing the move the plethora of boxes around the room to try at least uncover the floor of the storage room by the end of hour.

Around 10 or so minutes later the bell rang, signalling the end of the day and soon the hallway outside was filled with muffled laughter trapping you both in the musty room until the storm passed. He didn’t say anything to you, asides from slinging his bag over his shoulder and leaving, it felt as if the conversation earlier seemingly had no effect on his feelings of hatred towards you.

Since it was the end of the day, you went to retrieve your headphones from your locker opening it up to a note that read:

“Ur Such An Emo!”

“Real original, ur so funny!” You uttered, crumpling the paper in your fist and letting out a deep sigh before putting your headphones around your neck.

“Didn’t like my note?” Sunwoo asked leaning against his locker with a cocked brow and his arms folded across his black wash denim jacket.

“Not really. I almost forgot how unfunny you were for a second though.” You sighed closing your locker door, only to have your arm gently grabbed back.

“I’m only joking, you do know that, don’t you?” He asked, his condescending smirk saying much otherwise. Despite it being ‘not that deep’ to him of course it was frustrating being the butt of the joke everyday for you.

“Sunwoo shutup for one minute, will you?” Chanhee approached him, pulling his gentle hand from your arm and turning back away from you coldly.

Almost shocked for words, you stood there for a moment before quickly rushing away from the scene down the hallway. Chanhee? Chanhee Choi? Defending you? Perhaps the conversation did have some impact on the way he thought of Sunwoo and his minion clan.

“So about that party, Friday night.” The cheery voice of Hyunjae beside you forced you to take off your headphones on your way out of the gates. “Are you coming?”

“Maybe.” You sighed, clutching your bag on your shoulder with a delayed and airy chuckle.

“That always means no, doesn’t it?” He laughed in response, trying to make eye contact as you only kept your eyes on the pavement ahead.

“Pretty much.” You shrugged, briefly nodding a goodbye to the boy before parting your ways to walk home. The trees hung over the sunny sky in September, leaves drooping, getting ready to decay orange and make the departure from their branches. Birds flying over the neighborhood in crowds, humming the scene a soundtrack as you stepped through your front door home. Crashing into your bed, you huffed wondering why Chanhee had defended you yet still acted as if he hated your guts.

｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ —

Friday soon stumbled upon you, the rest of the week hadn’t been particularly interesting, however Chanhee hadn’t spoken to you since Monday. Everyday the hour at the end of the day that you’d both designated to cleaning the music store room, he remained silent not speaking a word to you everyday, ignoring your questions, jokes and thoughts - only speaking when necessary with the odd “excuse me.” or sometimes even a brief “pass that over.”

Today wasn’t any exception, he strolled in on the last hour without any polite “hello”s or quite frankly any acknowledgment of your presence in the room at all. You’d had enough of trying to entertain yourself with your own thoughts and turned around to the boy with a quick snap. He’d chosen to wear a more toned down outfit than usual that day, straight fitted black jeans with a loose tucked in black t-shirt. In his ears he’d opted for small silver hoops which complimented the thin silver chain around his neck.

“I can’t take it anymore, why’ve you been ignoring me all week?” You huffed out, watching as the boy did nothing but shrug in the most annoying and frustrating fashion. “You don’t know, really? It’s killing me, did I do something to upset you? It can’t be nothing.”

“I’m not sure why I’m ignoring you, I’m actually not.” He sighed, carrying himself within a register that translated words of genuine truth. He finished packing one of the last boxes, placing his palms on the top and beginning to stare into nothing but space.

“Then can you stop?” You laughed walking through to the thin aisle of shelves where you’d been placing organised boxes for the past week. You gently put your last box down, turning and accidentally bumping into Chanhee as you hadn’t noticed he’d moved from his original spot to move his own box.

You caught eye contact with him, forgetting to apologise for bumping into him instead you were lost for words. As you looked into his hazel brown eyes, you couldn’t seem to catch a single coherent thought other than how unreal he looked in the warm lighting above him.

“Can you not? I just nearly dropped my shit.” He rolled his eyes and huffed a huge sigh of frustration forcefully breaking his eye contact with you.

“Jeez I’m sorry, didn’t see you there.” You groaned, returning the eye roll, annoyed he’d began picking arguments with his unpredictable attitude once again.

“If you’re going to apologise try not being rude about it.” He clapped back, you immediately whipped your head back around, slowly walking back up to him and shaking your head in disbelief.

“Shouldn’t you be the one apologising? Didn’t you start the argume-” You began, before you were unexpectedly cut off by him passionately smashing his lips against yours, his hands cupping either side of your face. You couldn’t help but immediately reciprocate the kiss, the shock fading away almost instantly. You pulled away looking at him with a bewildered expression painted across your face, not expecting him to even have that kind of action programmed into his perfect little system.

“Uh, Why? I thought I was ‘such an emo’.” You asked, not being able to contain your laughter as he mirrored your chuckles, a smile plastered on his face as he locked eyes with the ground.

“Well first of all, never tell anyone what I’m about to say or you’re actually dead.” He looked up at you with a pair of sparkly eyes, “I like you? Even though you’re such an emo. I guess.. I have for a while, I always thought your style was really cool and I’m sorry I made fun of you.. I don’t really know why I did it.”

“You’re so awkward quit being so nervous about it.” You laughed as he chewed on his lip trying to hide the nervous grin creeping up. “I guess there’s always second chances, apology accepted.” You teased him, placing a boop on his nose with your finger.

“Thanks.” He spoke softly, his cheeks turning bright pink as you placed a kiss on one side of his face to reassure him. “Uhm, So you coming to that party tonight?”

“Sure I will.” You smiled, grabbing your bag as the last bell of the day sounded. “I guess I like you too, by the way.” You added before quickly escaping through the music storage door, leaving him behind alone, his brain running marathons and his heart beating out of his chest. His phone screen lit up and sending an aggressive bell sound to be muffled thorough the denim of his jean pocket:

y/n: oh and u looked like such an emo today xo

Chanhee laughed, his fingers shaking nervously over his cracked phone screen as he thought of a reply. When he got home he’d continue to text you until the very sunset, when his eyes simply couldn’t stay open any longer. For him, he finally felt accepted for who he was and what he liked — similarly so did you.

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fun-k-board · 11 months

Note

Hello, it's my first time to send an ask, more recently I finished the school good and evil books, And I fell in love with Hort, but he has literally no content x reader, so you can give hort simps some romantic content?

sorry if this is a bit confusing, english is not my first language 😅.

Of course! Now, I've only watched the movie and read the first book, so apologies if how I characterise him isn't that good or accurate. Also! Your English is really good so dw it wasn't confusing at all!

Pronouns: None

Info: Reader is described specifically in some parts but it fluctuates, ex, if you're very kind, then the next paragraph, if you're rude and abrasive.

General Headcanons

He's not the strongest or most impressive of boys, nevers and evers alike make fun of him for being weak physically and not bring the smartest of the bunch. What he lacks in a lot of things he makes up for in his devotion, despite being a never, he cherishes those he cares for and doesn't dare waver against his undying loyalty. So, if you show him that you're loyal, you understand his boundires and don't push them, he couldn't ask for anything more. Hort just wants someone who loves him for who he is.

Hort is very caring and won't be afraid to help you if you're down or acting strange, in private that is, in public it'd be a string of almost coded phrases and attempts to get you alone so you wouldn't be embarrassed of him calling out your behaviour.

I wouldn't say he's extremely protective, but he's definetly up there, and can become overbearing if you don't sit him down and express your boundaries. Hort wants you safe, and in a school like this? Safety is the last priority of the staff, somebody has to step up to get you safe and it may as well be him.

Appreciates if you at least comfort him or even try to stop the bullying that happens regularly to him, or even the manipulation provided by Sophie. In return his loyalty is tenfold.

He likes matching pyjamas, cute little animal patterns that you wear in each other's company.

Never Headcanons

If you're a never like him, many factors can benefit or dampen the process of knowing him. Especially if you somehow befriend Sophie, the small crush he has on her is just that in this, a small crush. It ends faster than it begins, and he realises your beauty and personality is something Sophie couldn't compete with.

Even if you may be too thin or too big, with scraggly and unwashed hair, pimples and rough skin, that's beauty for him. It gets you far for a never and hey, even if you're insecure, the school for evil and it's inhabitants will grade you good on it. Conventially attractive people are beauty in a different way, in that they're unusual, and a never with those features, as seen by Sophie, is still something he finds pretty.

Now onto your personality, for a never, this could go two ways, maybe you're nicer and shy, or even confident yet respectful, either way, they're traits unlike a never. While this places a target on your back and could cause some tension with teachers and students alike, it places an unfamiliar comfort when it comes to Hort and his love for you.

While he still wishes to be seen as someone capable of bad, and understands he can't always be the one to protect his significant other, he appreciates the kindness you extend to him. Hort hasn't known much kindness, and even a shy glance as you hold your hand out for him to hold, or a confident and outgoing grab as you smile at him, makes a far larger impact that you could ever realise. Especially since you're a never, he can't fathom that someone set out for cruelness and evil could still find it in themselves to love him, it proves to Hort your love couldn't be fake, and any seeds of doubt are dispelled by the adoration you show whether veiled or outright.

If you're harsh and the typical never, he adores your villainy and although he wants to become a villain himself, he can settle for a henchman if its under you, only you however. Hort doesn't mind if you're a little cruel to him, he's completely use to it, there are definetly lines that if you cross he's not staying with you, manipulating his love and devotion is a deal breaker. Especially if everything with Sophie happened before you were together, he doesn't want to go back to being used.

That said, you being 'cruel' is sometimes a plus, it makes you familiar and him relate to you more, which is always great when it comes to a relationship. Being a never doesn't always mean lack of love, your love isn't all cruelty, yelling and hitting, it lacks those at all later on when you or him confess.

Whether you're completely capable as a never or need help, he's always ready to assist if you need it. Struggling with homework? He took some notes! While the handwriting is barely understandable and messy, he will read them for you and even add some things onto your own studies he forgot for his. If you don't at all need nor want help, or even excel in studies compared to him, he's still there for when you somehow miss a lesson or maybe weren't paying full attention on a bad day. Hort even asks for help himself from time to time, while not outright, you can tell from how he's been placing lower these past few days, and you won't allow a fail no matter how cruel of a never you are.

If you were born a guy the chances of you being in the same dorm as him increases, and even if you aren't in the same dorm, you can still visit without eyebrows being raised, you may get put in the doom room if you aren't supposed to be out, however. If you were born a girl, you won't have a chance of dorming with him and will need to be sneakier when visiting each other so people don't think anything weird, and so you don't get put in the doom room.

When it comes to being between, neither girl or boy / both, you won't be treated well in the school for evil. In the handbook, it's explicitly stated that before, and after for the School for Evil, Agatha, both schools were very traditional and separated students based on sex.

Hort would be very lovely to you, helping in any way he could to lessen bullying or separation, and the last statements stay the same based on your biological sex. Which is unfortunate, but you can't exactly break a system with two teenagers, one a guy who has cute pyjamas.

Ever Headcanons

Now for an ever reader, things play out differently. Let's say you are a conventially attractive ever, beauty and grace your defining features, he may think you blend into the crowd. To him, all evers are self absorbed and fake, their kindness isn't unlimited, nor is it true, as when a never is in the room, or just a regular person that may not look the most rich and extravagant, the true colours start shining. That doesn't mean he believes them to be ugly or denies that fact, only in a jealous stupor or when aggrivated by one does that happen.

I can see this going two ways, either you catch his eye despite wearing the same uniform, being attractive and having the same sickly sweet attitude as everybody else, or, you notice him.

If you don't notice him, then perhaps your kindness is what allows you two to meet. Whether befriending the 'evil' Ever, Agatha, and meeting Sophie through her and therefore meeting Hort, who'd already had his beady eyes upon you. You could've defended him from a group of ignorantly loud and aggravating bullies, especially if they're Evers, his once smaller crush turns into respect. While he may not show it completely, and to an outsider he seems creepy with his affections, you understand him. If you don't? You know how Nevers act, they're strange and not like an Ever, so it's hard to judge what you have limited knowledge on. Given your already stated kindness, it's hard to imagine you'd be too judging.

If you're instead a very rude or just unusual Ever, being anti social in a harsh or awkward fashion, then it's your appearance that gets him aware of you fully, he notices you, of course. But, besides a few glances admiring your beauty, or gawking at your lack thereof, Hort doesn't try to know your name nor speak to you. He's busy getting bullied and used by a certain blonde never.

Your meeting is either coincidence or founded by you speaking to him first, if you're cruel, he is shocked at how outward you are. Most Evers are passive aggressive, his interest is piqued, and if you wanted him to leave you alone or you believed him to be weird, the chances of that happening have been lowered to zero.

If you're a shy and awkward type, Hort is drawn in by your cuteness for lack of a better term, how you try to seem confident because you don't want to fail or be bullied, he sees himself in you somewhat. His attempt to know you comes off as rude and overall strange, depending on your reaction, this could speed up the process or slow it. If you continue to try and be nice and respectful, he may just keep up this dance of insults, but if you fight back, Hort realises you aren't exactly the most different after all, and attempts a new approach.

No matter boy or girl, or either, in which case shouldn't be an issue since the school for good seems to be much more progressive, you won't ever share a dorm with him, which sucks, and you'll need to be more sneaky with your dates as to not be made fun of.

#Hort x reader #Hort #School for good and evil x reader #Sge #Sge Hort #Hort sge #School for good and evil Hort #Hort school for good and evil #School for good and evil #Hort x gn reader #Hort x gender neutral reader #Hort x gn!reader #school for good and evil x gn reader #school for good and evil x gn!reader #school for good and evil x gender neutral reader #sge x reader #sge x gn reader #sge x gn!reader #sge x gender neutral reader

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jeepersbxch · 1 year

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it's all in your head. 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐎𝐔𝐓

summary. knockout finds humans revolting, but y/n has a fun way of persuading him that humans aren't all that bad

warnings. human reader, interspecies (oral) sex, handjob, blowjob, dom reader, whiny knockout, slight dom knockout but not really??, teasing, mass-displacement

word count. 806

authors note. ok soooo I've never really written an xreader in third person pov, but I wanted to try it out and see how it felt. it was a little odd, but i didn't mind it. however, I value everyone's opinion, so please let me know you if like this orrrr the second person pov (you/yourself pronouns).

His cooling fans were kicked up to their highest settings. He squirmed against Y/N’s revolting touch in concealed exhilaration as the squishy pads of her fingertips dragged along his spike.

"Are you always this squeamish when someone touches you?" Her voice holds a humorous tilt to it, making Knockout grind his teeth together.

"Are you always so annoying — gah!"

His hands reach out to grip the edge of the work bench when her hand wraps firmly around his metal cock, giving him a vigorous stroke. She continued her movements, so painfully slow that Knockout could barely keep his sounds to himself.

"Annoying? That’s not very nice of you Knockout, especially when I’m about to suck your cock." Y/N quipped.

A guttural growl rumbled deeply from Knockout's chest, but what a mistake it was, for he couldn't stop it from ending in a desperate whine.

"Sh-shut up! And it’s called a spike you little — !"

Giving his head a firm squeeze, she mocks, “I’m sorry, a little what?”

His mouth opens to say something else, but all that comes out is another lewd whine that has Y/N pressing her thighs together.

Chuckling from amusement, she focuses most of her attention to the fully erect spike in her hand, tilting her head slightly in wonder. Using both hands, she moves a little faster.

Knockout rocks his hips upwards in a desperate attempt to speed up the pace, but it only has Y/N slowing her hands down. A low growl drags up his throat, but before he can say anything, you beat him to it.

“It’s such a shame, really. We could have been doing this a loooong time ago, but you just have to play hard to get; don’t ya?”

Suddenly, her hand moves quicker, which has Knockout throwing his head back in ecstasy. Without missing another second, she draws the tip of his leaking spike into her mouth and sucks hard.

“Frag, frag!” Knockout wails and without knowing what he was doing, his hands reach out to hold Y/N’s hot mouth against him.

Even though it was difficult, Y/N couldn’t stop the mischievous smile. Whilst it was fun bringing Knockout to this point, her main goal was to always make him forget that a (in his words) lowly, disgusting human, was making him crave these sensations.

With one hand firmly planted on his thigh, the other reaches downwards to let her fingers work fast circles around her clit. She let’s him take control of her movements and he wastes no time at all.

His tip reaches the back of her throat so aggressively that she couldn’t stop from gagging, but even through her struggle to relax her throat, she didn’t want him to stop. Finding her bearings and breathing evenly through her nose, her throat finally relaxes. She hums, moans, and groans, doing everything she can to make him come apart.

Watching him more closely, she hollows her cheeks to suck him in harder and the moan that Knockout lets out is so loud and borderline pornographic that it almost makes her cum on the spot. His thrusts are reaching a more sporadic pace and his unbridled noises are consistent. He gets tenser and tenser until his hips stutter to stop.

Expecting him to release, Y/N readys’ herself to swallow, but instead he pulls her head back by her hair to begin stroking himself. He keeps her face close and pumps frantically until he can’t hold back. Looking at her with hooded eyes, he releases over her face with a satisfied groan.

They both locks eyes as his ropes of cum lands across her face. The proud look across Y/N’s face makes his spark thrum unexpectedly, but with a last stroke of his hand, he falls limp against the bench. His heavy breathing is all that’s heard for a while as his head races with thoughts of what just happened. Just as they reach the deep end of regret, a giggle cuts him off.

Just when he lazily trails his eyes downward, Y/N quickly wraps her mouth around his softening tip.

“Y/N!” He hisses, but it hurts so good that he doesn’t push her away.

The wicked look in her eyes has him hardening all over again.

“You didn’t think we were done, did you? We’ve only just begun! And I still need to cum.”

Her hand starts moving up and down his spike again, making him breathe in heavily. Her last words make him look down at her with a yearning for her to keep going.

“You will help me cum, won’t you Knockout?” Though her words were meant to be a question, the smirk on her face obviously states that she wasn’t really asking.

The fading voice in the back of his head tries to tell him to tell her to stop, but the flick of her tongue over his tip just feels so right.

Shunning away the voice completely with gargled whine, Knockout looks down breathlessly and whispers shyly,

“Y-yes…”

#ೃ⁀➷ 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 #tfp knockout #tfp knockout smut #tfp knockout x reader #knockout x reader #transformers prime #maccadam #valveplug #i think those are the right tags to use for transformers content #starepiphany

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astoundingbeyondbelief · 8 months

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Kaiju Week in Review (September 3-9, 2023)

I was a bit nervous about GAMERA -Rebirth-; the animation looked dodgy and Netflix has a shaky track record with kaiju shows. I'm pleased to report this is the best entry in the genre that they've put their name on. Good characters, great action (brutal as always), and actual episodic storytelling that effortlessly weaves in elements from the Showa films beyond all the returning kaiju. Watch it immediately.

Tie-ins abound for GAMERA -Rebirth-: a two-part novelization, a manga adaptation, and a prequel manga that sheds some light on [UNBELIEVABLY MASSIVE SPOILERS]. That prequel manga (GAMERA -Rebirth- code thyrsos) is being published online for free in both Japanese and English. You can read the first chapter here.

In unofficial translation news, English subtitles for GAMERA.1999 (1999) and yokaipedia (2022) are now available. The former is Hideaki Anno's making-of documentary for Gamera 3: Revenge of Iris; the latter is a fun, child-friendly fantasy from Godzilla Minus One director Takashi Yamazaki with a big ol' centipede-dragon at the end. (It's also maybe the first Japanese kaiju film I've ever seen with a major Black character.) I haven't gotten to GAMERA.1999 yet, though from scrubbing through it, it seems like a lot of dialogue was just ignored by the translator. Shame, as that's one I've wanted for a long time.

youtube

We have a teaser for Monarch: Legacy of Monsters, as well as a premiere date for the first two (out of ten) episodes: November 17. (I am being showered with Media for my 30th birthday.) The big news from this trailer is that John Goodman is reprising his role as Bill Randa from Kong: Skull Island. I assume that's going to be through flashbacks and old recordings only, since he was eaten by a Skullcrawler in that one. We also catch glimpses of two new creatures, a dragon and a crab from what I can tell. The latter looks to be fighting a Mother Longlegs.

Fandango and AMC have added mostly-empty listings for Godzilla 2000 on November 1. Fathom Events screened Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla on November 3 last year; despite randomly showing Tokyo SOS back in March, I gather they're making a tradition out of Godzilla Day. Note that the listed runtime is longer than the film itself. Predictions for the program: another message from Keiji Ota, the 2022 Godzilla vs. Gigan short, and the Japanese version of G2K. Interesting that they're running the last Toho Godzilla film to receive a wide release in the U.S. exactly a month before Godzilla Minus One has a wide release of its own here.

Gamera isn't a meta-defining Godzilla Battle Line unit... but he's Gamera in a Godzilla game, so I've been using him in every match since I unlocked him. He's gearing towards demolishing flying units, with fireballs that deal more damage against them and knock them back. A pity that he's arriving well after those units were at their most dominant.

Godzilla: Here There Be Dragons #3 still isn't giving me much to write home about, but the kaiju cult creeping to the forefront intrigues. Also cool to see Ebirah in a starring role.

youtube

Marubeni, one of Japan's biggest general trading companies, put out a bizarre commercial featuring samurai, zombies, a meteor, and a refurbished GMK King Ghidorah. The ad now has English subtitles, and you can watch a Ghidorah-centric behind-the-scenes video here.

I cannot believe I have more Cleopatra Entertainment fuckery to report on with regards to their Shin Ultraman releases, but they're truly trying to take the "Worst Film Company of 2023" title from the members of the AMPTP. Their third attempt at a barebones disc is starting to reach customers... but the ones who already received the initial replacement disc are being told no more will be sent. @starestream is trying to figure out if they'll be selling the third edition on their site, since it seems buying it anywhere else is a gamble. (Physically, the third edition looks almost the same as the first two, set apart only by the "SUBTITLED" text on the disc.) Either way, it's another blow to a movie that truly doesn't deserve this.

#kaiju week in review #gamera #gamera rebirth #godzilla #kaiju #yokaipedia #Youtube

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knickynoo · 11 days

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Back to the Future: The Animated Series, s02ep013 "Verne Hatches an Egg"

✨Last episode of the series!✨

Previous episodes linked here.

In this episode: Verne gains a cute little buddy, creepy Mr. Wisdom returns, and a jarring final moment with Real Doc

Well, friends, we've reached the end of our journey into the world of the animated series. It was almost exactly one year ago today that I posted my review of the first episode, and it's been a super fun project to work on. I'm kind of sad to be done with it.

Let's see what this last episode has in store for us, shall we?

We start in the lab, where Doc is making adjustments to his latest invention, the "ELB Pediatric Policer."

It's basically a lie detector designed to be worn by children, lol. When a child does something they know is wrong, or if they lie about something, it flashes with lights and blares a siren. He plans to present it at the Annual Convention of the Home Inventors of Mad Geniuses.

Gonna be real with you, Doc—not sure how I feel about this invention. Sounds like a good way to raise very anxious, paranoid children.

Anyway, this reminds Doc of something that happened to Verne when he was doing show and tell one day.

The cartoon begins with someone attempting the steal the DeLorean. They're shrouded in shadows, but it's pretty clear that it's Verne. He's got a pretty high track record for DeLorean thievery. Doc's security system catches him, though, locking him into the car, setting off an alarm, and taking a picture, which is sent directly to Doc's room.

Quick little sidenote, but I don't think I've mentioned that Doc regularly calls Clara "Clarabelle" over the course of the series. When he's woken up by the alarm system, it's the name he uses to call to her, and I was like, "huh. why have I never written about this in my posts?" I looked it up, and Clarabelle (the spelling according to the subtitles on the DVD) is a variant of the more official spelling, which is Claribel. It means "bright and beautiful" but seems to be a pretty obscure name, as it's only listed at .009% usage at the height of its popularity in 1893.

So, I'm left wondering: Is the animated series implying that it's perhaps her "real" name, with Clara being her nickname? Or is this just an affectionate nickname Doc uses for Clara? And if it's a nickname, is it something Doc simply thought had a nice ring to it, or is it because he's secretly a big fan of the Disney character Clarabelle Cow??

That's Clarabelle with her boyfriend Horace Horsecollar, btw. If you even care.

Verne tells Doc that he was only taking the DeLorean so he could go looking for something cool to bring to show and tell. Doc decides to help him out by letting him borrow an arrowhead he has. Verne is psyched, but before he can even reach the school building, Biff Jr. intercepts him and demands his lunch money. He steals the arrowhead from Verne.

Verne's teacher isn't happy that he had nothing to show or tell about, and she tells him that if he doesn't bring in something the next day, she's going to make him play Prince Charming in the upcoming school play. Which is a really weird threat if you ask me!! How does one force a child into a lead role of a play he doesn't want to be in just because he didn't have show and tell? What kind of school is this?

Verne is horrified by this news on account of he'd have to kiss some girl named Beatrice. He says he'd rather be, "dead like a dinosaur" which gives him a sudden idea. I sense a bad decision coming! And I bet Marty is going to be in on it because he always enables Varne in these types of shenanigans.

Yep. I knew it.

The boys take a quick trip to prehistoric times, where Verne swipes a dino egg for show and tell.

Shortly after arriving home, the egg hatches, and Verne finds himself caretaker to the world's cutest dinosaur.

Look at that guy. (Verne faints when he sees it)

Within the hour, the dinosaur has already grown significantly, and it escapes outside to the yard, where Verne begs Jules to help in hiding him. Just then, they hear Doc approaching and quickly work to form a ridiculous story in which the dino is their friend who painted himself green because they're playing a game involving aliens.

They're able to get away with it on account of Einstein is so afraid of the dinosaur that he launches himself at Doc's face and refuses to move.

Doc decides to take Einie to the vet, leaving his sons and their "friend" to continue their game. Jules insists Verne return the dino, but Verne wants to keep him as a pet. He names him Tiny.

It doesn't take long for Tiny to go missing in town. He ends up at the Tannen home, where Biff Jr. is watching Mr. Wisdom (who you may remember from an episode earlier in the season). If you don't, you just need to know that Mr. Wisdom is an evil children's TV show host who also happens to be one of Doc's old college roommates.

Mr. Wisdom announces that he's offering $50,000 to any viewer who can capture and send in an alien, bigfoot, or dinosaur. Very unfortunate timing, huh? Biff captures Tiny and sends him into the Mr. Wisdom show. After airing a special episode featuring Tiny, Mr. Wisdom plans to kill him and sell pieces of him to research labs for money.

Thankfully, Verne comes clean to his parents, and they work together to form a plan and sneak onto the set to free Tiny.

When Mr. Wisdom starts his show and reveals the "dinosaur," it's really just Marty and Jules on stilts.

Jules looks just like the monkey in that one meme.

The family gets home and prepares to bring Tiny back where he belongs. Before he goes, he spits out a baby tooth, which Verne is excited to be able to take to show and tell.

With that story wrapped up, we go back to Real Doc, who teaches us a little about eggs using a raw one. While he's talking, he takes out the lunch he'd packed, of which one of the items is a hard-boiled egg. Can you guess what happens? Yeah, he mixes up the two eggs. After some time to think about it, he feels pretty confident that he's figured out which one is the hard-boiled one and. And he just BITES into the egg, shell and all, like an absolute lunatic. And he's wrong about it being the hard-boiled one.

Who does this? Who on EARTH eats a hard-boiled egg in this manner? Are you telling me that Doc regularly leaves the shells on his eggs and bites into them like an apple?? He eats the shells? Is that what I'm supposed to take away from this??

We're ending the animated series with the revelation that this is how our beloved scientist finds it acceptable to eat a hard-boiled egg?? What am I supposed to do with this now? How will I make peace with this information?

Join me next time for nothing. The animated series is over, folks. Doctor Emmett Brown eats eggshells.

Adiós.

#back to the future #bttf #bttf: the animated series

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7-wonders · 1 year

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Our Very Own Greek Tragedy (Pt. 2 of 2)

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

Summary: As the weeks begin to stretch on with no solution as to why you can't remember Morpheus and the Dreaming when you wake up, you begin to lose hope. Can yours be the rare tragedy with a happy ending?

Or, part two of "yes this is based on that post that I made about Reader and Morpheus being in a relationship in the Dreaming but then you don't remember your dreams when you wake up."

Word Count: 5.5k

Notes: Thank you guys so so so much for being patient with me as I dealt with one of the worst months I've ever been through, as well as your sweet messages. I cannot thank you enough for your support. I can only hope that, amidst the grief and the stress, this makes some sort of sense.

Let me know your thoughts! Feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going and make me happy, and my inbox is always open to chat about whatever!

Part One of Two

“...and for some reason, instead of choosing fight or flight, my body chose fight and flight.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes. So anyways, that’s how I got a five-year ban from the biggest haunted house in the city.” The man sitting across from you finishes telling his riot of a story about when he punched an actor playing Michael Myers in the face while simultaneously screaming and trying to run away, making you laugh harshly into the glass of water you’re attempting to take a sip out of.

Derek is 27, a software engineer who loves science fiction and photography. He’s handsome in a nerdy way, his big brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and his brown hair simultaneously sophisticated and messy. Polite and with an understated sense of humor you’ve been laughing the entirety of tonight. Your friends have set you up on a date with him, insisting that he’s just your type and that you need to get out and meet new people.

And they’re right. Derek is traditionally your type, everything you’ve historically gone for in a potential partner. That’s why it’s so confusing that you’re really not that into him. He’s nice, to be sure, and you’re having fun, but in the way that you’d have fun when hanging out with one of your friends. It doesn’t feel right to call it a date.

You haven’t been feeling right the past couple of weeks, if you’re being honest with yourself. For some reason, it all seems to stem back to your sleep. Where before you would wake up everyday feeling refreshed and happy, now you find yourself defeated and upset before you can even get out of bed. It’s frustrating, even more so because you don’t know why it is that you’re feeling this way since you can’t remember whatever it is you’re dreaming about.

Maybe that’s why you’re surreptitiously checking the time on the clock above Derek’s shoulder, hoping that the next time you look, it will be an acceptable amount of time that you’ve been on this date and can suggest that it’s time for it to end. Maybe it’s just because you don’t feel a spark, which is too bad. You’ve enjoyed tonight, but on a strictly platonic level.

Eventually the date does come to an end. Derek drives you back to your home and even walks you to the door–a perfect gentleman, and normally a move you’d swoon over. Instead, you’re just feeling tired and more than a little bad at the fact that you don’t reciprocate the feelings you know that he has.

“I had a great time tonight,” Derek says, shyly shoving his hands into his coat pocket. He rocks back on his feet, trying to remain a respectable distance away.

“Yeah, it was fun!” You’re not lying to him; tonight was fun, just not romantically.

When his eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, you decide to beat him to what he’s inevitably going to start leaning in for and give him a kiss on the cheek. To his credit, he hides the disappointment very well.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” you ask.

He nods a little too enthusiastically. God, it’s gonna suck having to tell him that you don’t want to date him. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You smile and wave goodbye at him as he walks back to his car. The moment you close the door, your cheerful facade drops and you sigh heavily. Well, you think, at least it’s over.

Derek later texts you as promised, and you respond with a smiley face emoji and wishes for sweet dreams before setting your phone to ‘do not disturb.’ Tomorrow, you decide before you fall asleep. You’ll rip the bandage off with him tomorrow.

When you open your eyes in the Dreaming, guilt immediately begins to eat at you. There it is, your nightly refresher as to why you’re so miserable as of late; because you can’t remember the love of your life, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, unless you’re asleep and with him in said realm. The moment that you open your eyes back in the Waking, which is where you spend the majority of your time, it’s as if Dream of the Endless doesn’t exist. Hence, the date you allowed yourself to be set up on.

While you’re certainly not doing any of this on purpose, that doesn’t make it any better. You’ve basically just cheated on Dream and had no qualms about it since your stupid Waking body doesn’t know that you’re in love. Though…maybe, subconsciously, you do? That’s really the only reason you can think of as to why you were so turned off of everything about the evening’s events and your date. It doesn’t make you feel that much better, but knowing that there’s a chance that your very soul knows who it belongs to (just as the holder of your soul belongs to you) does help.

Regardless, the guilt leads you to not leave the library and actively seek Morpheus out like you usually would. You’re definitely not hiding from him when you grab one of Sylvia Plath’s unpublished novels and tuck yourself in a small alcove with a window giving you a view of the mountains that are home to both dreams and nightmares. No, you’re just…making yourself scarce and catching up on some reading you didn’t know you had been wanting to do. Besides, Morpheus is busy running a realm and being Endless. Surely he has more, and better, to do than hunt you down?

Apparently, you’re mistaken. Barely an hour (at least, you think it’s an hour; time is a fickle, funny thing in the Dreaming) passes before the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and Morpheus appears in front of you. The stars in his eyes, which have always been your true indicator as to how he’s feeling, twinkle with all of the joy that his barely-there smile hides. It makes your heart, heavy with the knowledge of your betrayal, ache.

“My starlight,” he greets, holding a hand out for you to take.

Your knee pops when you stand, and you stifle a laugh at the horrified look on Morpheus’s face. It’s fun getting to see his reactions to the normal plights of humans, including joints that make odd noises.

“Hi.” You lean in to kiss him, and the look on his face after you do so tells you that nothing’s going to get by him.

“Something is wrong.”

Dammit. And just when you had decided on the course of pretending like everything was a-okay.

“What makes you say that?” you stammer.

“Your eyes.” His hand comes to your cheek, and his thumb strokes the skin under your eye. “You’re…sad. Uncertain. Why?”

Dammit.

Instead of answering, you throw your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. You can’t look at him, not when you whisper, “I went on a date.”

Morpheus hums, not hearing what you said. “What?”

“I said, I went on a date.”

He stiffens under your hold, and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You pull away from him, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to keep them from shaking so violently. They still continue to shake, but at least Morpheus doesn’t see it.

“I didn’t even like him!” you try to explain. “I went because my friends basically forced me on a date and I wanted to get them off my case. We had dinner, it was nice, then he drove me back home. That’s it. But then I woke up here and I’m so ashamed at what I did. I couldn’t keep something like this from you.”

Morpheus is silent as he tries to keep his composure, and you don’t blame him. You’d be mad too, even if there are extenuating circumstances that led to the aforementioned date. Though you want to keep talking and trying to explain yourself, you know that this would just lead to you continuing to dig a bigger hole for yourself, so you wait for him to make the first move.

When he does speak, he does so quietly. You’re staring out the window, too nervous to face him, but you can feel his gaze on you as he says, “You are not at fault here.”

You scoff. He repeats this phrase so often lately that you wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes the new Dreaming slogan. You know he’s speaking truthfully, that he doesn’t hold any sort of contempt towards you for this. As he’s said to you so many times now, he can’t be mad at you when you quite literally don’t remember any part of the Dreaming when you wake up. You, however, can and will be extremely mad at yourself.

Days of research into why you don’t remember and how you could potentially remember has turned into weeks of research, which has now become months of research. And still, you’re not any closer to finding an answer to this question that’s plagued both you and Morpheus. Any of the rare potential solutions that you’ve come up with have been unfeasible: witches asked too high a price with no guarantee that anything they tried would work, Morpheus’s few mortal contacts could not find any lead to help, and the Dreaming’s library didn’t hold any answers.

The only real fix that anybody had come up with would be for you to move to the Dreaming permanently. While that was certainly a plan that you had, you also still enjoyed the life that you live in the Waking, and there would be loose ends for you to tie up in order to move. Morpheus would basically have to kidnap your unknowing, Waking self, and neither you nor he were willing to deal with the potential trauma of that, no matter how desperate you were becoming.

“Well it still feels a lot like I am,” you say, “especially when it’s causing you so much pain.”

“You are in pain as well,” Morpheus points out.

He’s right, of course. You really hate it when he’s right; and he’s right a lot. Another perk of being Endless, you suppose. That, or being alive for a really long time just gives you the natural ability to always know what to say.

“You’re not mad at me for basically cheating on you?” you ask.

You’re not at all expecting Morpheus to laugh at your earnest question. Though you’ve heard his laugh before, it’s always a little disconcerting; harsh and grating, like it’s coming from someone who’s both never laughed and never heard a laugh. Even still, you love his awful, full-throated laugh. You just didn’t think that this situation would elicit such a reaction from him.

“I would hardly call one miserable evening spent with a male suitor who did not have any sort of chance with you ‘cheating,’ my love.” He seems awfully pleased about all of this, and while you’re happy for him, you’re also a little confused. “You said it yourself that your friends forced you to go, and that you had no interest in the man. I am jealous that I was not the one able to take you to dinner in the Waking, but there is nothing for you to feel any sort of guilt over.”

It’s certainly a relief to know that he doesn’t hold any grudge against you, nor does he see this as the same grievous error that you do. You’d feel a whole lot more relieved, however, if you didn’t have to worry about any of this at all and could just be happy with your love in both of your realms.

“What do we do?” you ask finally, today’s Waking events giving you a bad feeling about things to come.

“We continue to search, and in the meantime, we love each other as we always have.”

“You still want me?” You’re only half-joking, and he knows it. “Even with all of this trouble?”

“I want you in any way that I can have you. If, one day, you were to decide that our love was not meant to be, I would still be content with being a mere observer in your life.”

“I would never,” you say earnestly. “You know that, right? Sorry to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”

“And what an honor and a joy it is,” he says before leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

The odds, you know, are insurmountable. But for now, here, in Morpheus’s arms, it feels a little more doable.

•••

Morpheus remains in his throne room long after you’ve returned to the Waking. Though he did his best to take both your mind and his off of the troubles you’re facing, the awareness of said troubles always remains on the periphery. Now, he stares up at the galaxy that swirls above his head, hoping that the stars will hold some sort of answer within their constellations.

What if there is no solution? What if this is just the universe’s way of truly expressing its disdain for Morpheus; by giving him the love that he had only wished to have, just for his lover to be doomed not to remember him when not in the Dreaming? Some would call him dramatic, but he believes that, were this to be the case, he would not survive such a heartbreak. Now that he’s had you in his life, he simply cannot go on living any sort of an existence without you.

He’s teetering precariously on the edge of a dangerous thought spiral when Matthew lands on his throne with a caw, breaking him out of such morose thinking. “Boss, you got a minute?”

“What do you require, Matthew?” Morpheus asks.

“Lucienne is looking for you, she wants you to meet her in the library when you get the chance.”

It’s not as if he’s doing anything but brooding (moping, you would call it), so Morpheus stands from the stairs that he finds preferable to his throne when he’s not required to conduct official business and nods at his emissary. “Let us not keep her waiting, then.”

Lucienne looks as though she’s been waiting for Morpheus to arrive since the moment she sent Matthew off to request an audience with him. She’s already looking down the long aisle that gives her a direct view of the main doors from her desk, and she stands in recognition when Morpheus and Matthew appear.

“Matthew said you were looking for me?”

“My Lord,” Lucienne greets. “Do you remember when Lady Constantine completed a task for you in 1794?” She has the tact to not say what that task was, knowing that giving more detail than necessary will do nothing but bring more heartbreak to Morpheus.

He nods. “Of course.”

“You had her drink from a spring near the Shores of Creation, so that she would remember the conversation she had with you about how to escape Robespierre. Might that same spring be an option for her Ladyship?”

Even in such dire circumstances, Morpheus still finds himself fighting a smile at the title Lucienne addresses you as. You hate being referred to so formally, and always insist to everyone that they just call you by your name if they need to address you. Most have adjusted to the request, but Lucienne still holds steadfast to traditional conventions.

“When I rebuilt the Dreaming, the spring did not come back. I know not why, nor do I know how it came to be all those years ago,” Morpheus explains.

“So we must attempt to find answers through other avenues. Perhaps we peek into the past?”

“Do we know any time travelers?” Matthew muses lightheartedly.

Morpheus shakes his head and says, “The last time traveler I knew, I have not seen in almost three hundred years.”

Matthew’s feathers ruffle as if he’s about to comment on how he was just making a joke and didn’t expect time travelers to actually be real, but Lucienne cuts in with an idea before he can speak. “The Fates could potentially help.”

“As you said to me once before, the Fates speak in riddles. I do not believe they would be particularly insightful in a matter such as this.”

She nods, and thinks for a moment more. “Your sister has continually reminded you that the family is willing to assist one another, given such assistance is asked for. Might Destiny be willing?”

His first instinct is to emphatically turn down this suggestion. But Lucienne is right; the Endless siblings (most of them, that is), for all their interpersonal troubles, are also more than willing to help out another member of the family should they ask. For most members of the family, their price for assisting with such a request would be far too steep. However…

He has two siblings that would be the most open to helping, and only one would do so solely based on a sense of duty. That same sibling would likely hold the most information about the past, which is the information that he needs. However, this could also be a dead end. For all that Morpheus insists on sticking to the rules that help to keep his realm in order, his older brother somehow makes Morpheus look like a rebellious teen when it comes to following rules.

It’s a gamble, but it seems to be pretty safe. With that in mind, Morpheus makes his decision. “As far as my siblings are concerned, Destiny is the one that would not require any sort of favor from me. If it is written in the Book that he is meant to help me, then he shall. Likewise, he will not help if that is what the Book commands.”

“It is likely the lowest stakes you are going to get here. And if Destiny cannot help, the Fates can serve as a backup plan,” Lucienne points out.

“I shall contact my brother, then.” He waits for Matthew to land on his shoulder before turning back to look at his librarian. “Thank you for your wisdom and assistance, Lucienne. It is…much appreciated.”

Lucienne flattens her lips against each other, but it does nothing to stop the smile that’s fighting to appear on her face. “You’re most welcome, my Lord.”

Morpheus nods and tries not to look as humbled as he feels. He really must stop taking Lucienne and her counsel for granted. How many times throughout the course of Lucienne’s long, long life spent as a creature of the Dreaming has she talked Morpheus off of the proverbial ledge?

As he walks into his gallery to request a meeting with his brother, the first frame, the one containing a large book, begins to glow. “Dream,” a voice says from the frame, “it is I, Destiny of the Endless. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, brother. Won’t you come through?”

This meeting was meant to happen, then.

“I will go alone, Matthew,” Morpheus directs. Though Matthew shifts uncomfortably, like he’s not quite sure he wants to let Morpheus do this without him, he jerks his head in a nod nonetheless.

“Good luck!” Matthew wishes before taking off through the open door and making his way back into the Dreaming proper. With a sigh, Morpheus rolls his shoulders back to make himself stand straight and proud as he steps through the portrait frame and out into his eldest sibling’s realm.

The Garden of Forking Ways is always a little disconcerting, no matter how many times Morpheus has visited the realm of Destiny of the Endless. There are an infinite number of paths that one might take, so many that it becomes almost dizzying to look at, and Morpheus imagines it would be quite easy to become forever lost in this never-ending labyrinth. Thankfully, his brother has been expecting him, and is there the moment that Morpheus appears.

“Well-met, Destiny,” Dream greets.

Destiny stands as tall and imposing as ever, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his unseeing, milky eyes. Those that know him, which is really only his siblings, would argue that, though Destiny is blind, he, in fact, sees all, even that which everyone else cannot see with normal vision.

When Dream arrives, Destiny lays a hand over the book that is forever chained to him. Evidently, the book has told him whatever it is he needed to know, for he nods and gestures Dream closer to him.

“My brother, I thank you for answering my call.” This is as warm as Destiny will ever get; Morpheus, however, has had an eternity to get used to these mannerisms, and knows that this is uncharacteristically tender coming from Destiny.

“You call on the family so little, and I can hardly recall the last time you summoned me individually. What is the matter?”

“Father Time visited my realm some time ago. He said that he had a boon for you, one that was granted as some recompense for your imprisonment. Father, being who he is, could not remember if your boon would help you in the past, present, or future. At least, I believed that he could not remember, for when I asked which it was, he simply said ‘yes’ before taking his leave.”

Morpheus would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t believe he deserved some sort of restitution from the universe or the Creator for all that he had gone through. Still, he never imagined that said amends would be coming from Father Time, who, at best, has only ever shown a vague disinterest in the lives of his children.

(He would also be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t at least a little jealous that their father had deigned to bless one of his children with a rare visit. Of course it was Destiny; the eldest, the wisest, the favorite. He thought that he had long-since come to terms with his family and their strange dynamics, but something about being directly confronted with such a fact has him feeling every bit the middle child that he is.)

From within his robes, Destiny produces a vial which he holds out towards his brother between his thumb and forefinger. Morpheus stares at the pink liquid within and wonders if he should really get his hopes up, or if this is just simply a cruel joke. But no, it’s not. He can feel the dreamstuff that the liquid is made out of, for he is also dreamstuff, and the dreamstuff is he. Like recognizes like.

“I now understand what he meant, and I believe you will as well. Do you know what this is?”

Of course he knows what it is. How could he not, when, for all intents and purposes, it appears to be of his realm? “Water from the spring that used to run near the Shores of Creation?”

Destiny nods, and Morpheus feels his chest tighten. “Thus, his comments make perfect sense now. The past, being that this spring no longer flows in your realm. Presently, you are looking for a solution. With this, your future will be achieved, one way or another.”

He very much agrees with that hypothesis, though the last statement does cause him to pause. “What do you mean, brother? ‘One way or another’?”

“I have said what is to be said.”

To be fair, it’s more than what Destiny would typically say in such a situation, and Morpheus is grateful for it. Still, he remains wary; when has his family ever been clear in their actions without any sort of ulterior motive? “And it is mine? There are no…stipulations, or deals that I must adhere to?”

“It was given freely, for you to use as you wish. A gift, and nothing more.”

For the first time in weeks, Morpheus feels like he can breathe freely. “Thank you, Destiny. Truly.”

“I wish luck to you and your bride. I shall see you soon, when realms meet and the old converges with the new.”

Morpheus doesn’t bother trying to decipher his brother’s cryptic words. What will be, will be, and only once it’s happened will the connection to Destiny’s prophecy make sense.

His own gallery appears before him in a flash, Destiny having sent his brother back to his own realm upon their business being concluded. The vial of spring water still remains in his hand, and he closes his hand around it tightly to remind himself that it’s here and real. The solution that they’ve been searching for, housed in such a small container that he almost worries that he’ll misplace it.

For the rest of the day, he can only halfheartedly complete the tasks that he had intended to finish. His mind is so distracted that, at one point, he’s pretty sure that he gave The Corinthian (remade without certain traits that made the first iteration a failed project) permission to take a day trip to the Waking. That will surely have to be addressed later, but it can wait. It has to wait. The only thing that he can think clearly about is the small bottle currently sitting in his pocket, which might finally hold the key to your problems.

Morpheus can feel you pass through the barrier separating your realm from his almost as easily as he can feel Matthew do the same. So when you finally, finally fall asleep, he’s there in the library at the exact same moment as you. When you see him, you jump in fright, obviously not expecting him to be right in front of you.

“Give a little warning next time you feel the need to try and send me into a heart attack!” Regardless of your feigned chagrin, you kiss him in greeting before smiling at him.

“Hopefully you’ll forgive me when I tell you that I have good news.”

“What kind of good news?”

Morpheus feels as though every atom in his body is vibrating from the excitement, so much so that he glances down at his hands to see if they’re physically shaking (they’re not). “I appear to have been granted a boon from my father.”

You look bewildered, but it’s not towards what Morpheus had been expecting you to be confused about. “You have a dad?”

“Time.”

“We’ll focus on that later,” you say, shaking your head as if to draw yourself away from this new fact. “What did he give you?”

“Long ago, a spring ran through the Dreaming. The waters of this spring, when consumed, allowed the drinker to remember what had happened within the Dreaming as easily as if they were recalling their day in the Waking. After my imprisonment, when I rebuilt my realm, the spring was absent, for reasons unknown to me.

“Father told my brother, Destiny, that I was owed recompense for my capture, and that the gift he entrusted Destiny to give to me was such payment.” Morpheus reaches into the pocket on the outside of his coat, the only one with lining not made of the universe, and pulls out the glass vial. “The gift was water from the spring, water that I did not believe would ever be in the Dreaming again.”

“So, if I drink this, then…” You don’t say what you’re thinking, not wanting to get your hopes up. Morpheus, having been in your shoes mere hours before, knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“You should be able to remember everything about the Dreaming, about me, when you wake up.” Morpheus hands you the glass container, pressing it gently into your palm. “I will not force you to drink it, however. The choice is yours.”

You scoff and tease, “Do all of the declarations of love and fidelity mean nothing to you?”

The top of the vial is pried off with the nail of your thumb, and you take an experimental sniff of the liquid inside. Once it’s passed whatever test you’ve just administered, you toss your head back and take it as though it’s a shot of liquor. Morpheus doesn’t ever recall actually being one to take a shot, but one sees their fair share of creatures imbibing on all manner of alcohol when one converses with the likes of Faerie and gods.

The actual act of you drinking the water is anticlimactic, and the disappointment shows clearly on your face when you say, “I don’t feel any different.” Still, Morpheus is not discouraged.

“Though it has been about three hundred years since the spring was last used, I do not recall any instant symptoms to show that it had worked. Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is wait.”

Despite his reassurance, you still pout. “Well, that sucks.”

“I am quite sure that we will find some way to pass the time until you wake,” Morpheus says, as if you’ve forgotten that you can quite literally do whatever you want when in the Dreaming. “In the meantime, there is something that I wish to give you.”

“Something else besides magic water?”

“Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks, of course. He moves to stand behind you, reaching into the air and pulling down the gift that he has been intending to give you. His long fingers work to fasten a clasp after he lays the chain around your neck, and when he finishes, he lays his hands on your shoulders. Taking that as a signal, you open your eyes again and look down.

A beautiful silver necklace rests just under the hollow of your throat. He watches as you hold the charm in your hand and run your thumb down the notches of the vertebrae-like trunk. Once you realize that it’s his sigil you hold, you turn in his grasp to meet his eyes.

“Morpheus, this is–” You’re stunned at the significance of such a gift. While he had discussed his desire to give you a wedding ring, being aware of the mortal custom for married couples to wear such jewelry, for Morpheus, this is his version of such a token that signifies devotion and partnership.

“It is yours, and shall remain on your neck when you return to the Waking. My hope is that you will remember me when you wake. If that is the case, you need only call for me while holding my sigil, and I will hear you.”

You kiss him repeatedly in thanks until his head feels like it’s spinning and he starts to think that he understands what mortal dizziness must feel like. “Thank you, truly. I’ve never received such a meaningful gift before.”

“Let us hope you can actually use it come tomorrow. Now, I believe I promised that I would let you win our next chess match?” He had promised such a thing after you had begged him to teach you how to play and then witnessed your subsequent frustration upon continually losing to a being who has played the game since its invention.

“Just announce it to everybody that I suck at chess, why don’t you,” you say fondly before taking his offered hand and letting him do his best to help find some way to pass the time until you wake.

•••

When you open your eyes and catalog the mid-morning sun filtering in through a crack in your curtains, you notice that this is the best that you’ve felt after waking up for weeks now. You roll over, hoping to catch a couple more hours of sleep since it’s the weekend and you have nowhere to be until the afternoon. A sharp poking on your chest has you aborting the idea of laying on your stomach, and you sit up instead to see what it is that’s disrupted your plan.

Around your neck lies a necklace that you most definitely did not go to bed wearing. The charm is like nothing you’ve seen before; if you had to guess, you’d call it some weird, mosquito-like creature. Your thumb traces the spiny trunk as you turn it this way and that to study it, and you watch the light glint in the two rubies that you think are meant to be eyes. A bolt of familiarity runs through you, but you’re not sure why.

Then, it hits you. This is Morpheus’s sigil that you’re wearing–a miniature figure of his helm, his main tool of office.

Morpheus, the love of your life.

Morpheus, the man who you normally don’t remember when you wake up.

“Morpheus!” you gasp, holding the necklace against your skin with both hands. “My love, I hold the necklace with your sigil on it, which you told me to use to call for you. Can you hear me?”

The seconds stretch out longer than any you’ve ever experienced as you wait agonizingly to see if your summoning worked. Then, the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and a smile grows to match the one that the man with starry eyes that appears standing before you wears.

“You called?”

•••

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