#i think now that finals are close enough i can see the path clear | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

minarisplaything · 9 months

Text

Gala Gal ft. Blackpink Rosé

pairing: Rosé x male reader rating: Explicit wordcount: 2.8k prompt: a young journalist gets a chance of a lifetime with Rosé at a recent event.

Being a writer for a celebrity magazine has its advantages, such as getting to attend grand events like the Cannes Film Festival, or in this case, the MET Gala. Now you might think, where's the fun or excitement in that? A bunch of rich people dressed in overpriced clothing and posing on the red carpet while you have to ask them redundant questions that no one truly cares about outside a small niche of fans.

That is a reasonable question to ask, and a fair point to make. Hell, there are times when you wonder to yourself just how legitimate of a job this is. You certainly hear that question from your parents enough. But the answer to all of those questions comes from the woman currently walking towards you.

"Thank you for your time," you say to the current girl in front of you.

You have been interviewing some girl who is apparently 'the next Olivia Rodrigo,' which is a wild title to have, but you digress. As you bid her good-bye, a sudden chorus of "Rosé! Rosé over here!" erupts from the group of photographers, followed by a series of flashing light bulbs.

Your eyes flick over to the red carpet area near you to see none other than the 26-year-old starlet, Roseanne Park. Otherwise known as Rosé from Blackpink.

You have never crossed paths with her at any events you have covered; which you just toss up to bad luck or god punishing you for some crime you can’t remember. Either way, it seems like you will finally be getting your chance. Judging from this distance, she is just as beautiful as she appears in all her photos.

Her blonde hair is flowing down her back while loose bangs frame her face as she smiles for the camera. She is wearing a black dress that is form-fitting at the top, held together by two thin straps, and flares outwards at the waist. Frankly, she looks stunning. It is a classy dress that still manages to spark arousal in you. Though, you will keep that last part to yourself.

It is only a few moments later that you have to compose yourself as the press woman directs Rosé towards your vicinity. Adjusting your stance, and growing erection, you cough and put on a friendly smile as she walks over.

"Hi, I'm with Eros Magazine," you introduce yourself, managing to remain composed.

"Rosie, it’s nice to meet you," she says sweetly. She is even more beautiful up close, and that smile is practically paralyzing. Given that you don't trust your tongue at the moment, you decide to keep it simple.

"So how are you tonight?" you question, knowing how many times she must have answered it already.

"I'm great! It's a little cold tonight, but I'm excited to be here," she starts in her accented voice. "I love the Museum of Arts and supporting a good cause is always great. There are so many beautiful dresses and people here. So it's all feeling great right now!" she says, remaining smiling and bubbly throughout her answer.

For your part, you merely nod your head and smile, holding the recorder up to get every word. You go through the litany of typical red carpet questions: what projects are you working on, how's the music coming; all the typical things you could hand in to your editor when a story is due. You can see the press woman getting antsy though. Typical. Figuring you only have one or two questions left, you decide to venture out a bit.

"So, you're going to be going on tour again soon, that must be exciting..."

"It is! You're actually the first one to bring that up all night," she says, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"I do like to do my homework beforehand," you joke with a grin before continuing, "That being said, how do you manage to have fun and unwind? Even at these events, you have to keep a certain image, right?"

Rosé is quiet at first, and for a moment, she glances around as if to check that the coast is clear before she answers, "Oh, you know the girls and I find out ways to have fun. And this is actually my third year at the Gala, so I’ve found the little tricks and ways to have some fun."

There is something about the way she looks at you as she speaks that screams there is more than meets the eye to her words. Maybe it is the coy tone to her voice or the glint in her eye as she smiles. Whatever it is, you suddenly find yourself wondering exactly what ‘some fun' entails.

"By the way," Rosé says, interrupting your thoughts, "Eros Magazine...as in the Greek word for erotic love?"

Again she fixes you with that mischievous grin.

"Uh — yeah. Nice catch," you stammer, causing her to giggle.

"I like it" she says, a look you can’t read in her eye. Before you can ask anything further, the press woman begins to nudge her on to the next reporter. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too, have a good one," you reply, watching her intently as she walks away.

If that is your first and last interaction with the K-pop star, then you can say it has been interesting if nothing else. You get the feeling there is more to that little minx than meets the eye, you are only disappointed that you’d likely never get the chance to delve a bit further.

Covering the event means that you gain access to the party but hardly anyone does any real reporting. After all, these kinds of events are meant for the rich and famous. To cement their status as celebrities, they then sneak off inside to where they can have their fun. For the most part, you reporters stay together, talk, and drink the free liquor that is available.

You expect your night will be spent at the bar, winding your time down until it reaches an acceptable time to call it a night. But first things first, if you are going to be here on the company dime, you might as well get your money's worth.

"I've been looking for you all night!"

You are in the middle of ordering yet another drink when a familiar accented voice reaches your ears. Turning in your stool, you lay your eyes on Roseanne Park for the second time tonight, only this time there is something a little more...loose to her demeanor. You get an explanation when you spot the glass in her hands and briefly wonder how many she had at this point.

"Me? You must be confused," you say, both amused, curious, and a bit confused, "I don't think anyone at this party has said I’m wanted."

"Well, you are!" she says, smiling as she moves towards you, "And now that I've found you, I have something to show you."

"Don't you have famous friends to entertain?" you question more than protest as she places her drink on the bar and takes your hand.

You catch a glimpse of a hint of a pout on her features, "Don’t worry, they’re occupied." Again, there is that suggestion that something more is going on. Of course, there is the very realistic possibility that your mind is just running away with crazy, erotic theories. But that potential doesn’t stop you from being any more turned on by the thought. Coupled with the fact that Rosé is dragging you through a gala to god-knows-where and you are practically dreaming. In that moment, she could take you to hell for all you care.

"You're going to love it, trust me," she assures, looking back at you as she continues leading.

"Oh, I’m sure," you reply. Your mind is racing with things from a blow job to taking her from behind, so needless to say, you are a bit disappointed when she stops at your destination.

"A photo booth?" you ask, a bit amused at how silly it seems.

Rosé is either undeterred or doesn’t register your lack of enthusiasm as she simply nods, still smiling and pulling you into the booth.

“It's fun! Come on," the blonde insists, pulling you by the hand into the photo booth. Judging by the size of it, the booth is clearly an afterthought to the gala planners, or maybe it just isn’t meant for two people at the same time to occupy it. You do your best to squeeze yourself in so she can close the curtain behind you. To your surprise, Rosé neatly slides onto your lap, her perfect, tight ass sitting right on top of where your hard-on has been growing for the last couple of minutes.

"Alright, so it takes six photos then prints them out there," she points to the deposit box under the screen. She either doesn't feel the bulge pressing firmly against her ass, or she is very good at playing naive.

"Okay," you nod, as if you are bothering to pay any attention to the pictures.

As she shimmies on your lap to get into a better position, you decide to be bold and snake your arm around her slim waist, only to receive no complaints from the pop star. A countdown shows up on the screen, and when it says CHEESE, Rosé throws her arms around you, smiling openly as you try and fail not to look too bewildered. The screen replays your photo, and you can’t help but laugh at your own expense.

"Not bad," you grin, as the counter starts for the second photo.

"Not bad, but I think we can do better!" she says with a determined look on her face. When the screen says CHEESE again, Rosé suddenly leans over and licks the side of your face. You are so surprised you don't know how you react until the photo replays.

"Oh my god! That's great!" Rosé laughs.

You take the next few photos in the same fashion, going for ridiculous and silly in each one. After every photo, Rosé would shift her weight on your lap, rubbing against your erection each time. You are certain that she has to be well aware of what she is doing, and by the time the countdown for the last photo appears, you have made up your mind.

When the screen flashes, you turn Rosé's head to you and push your lips flush against hers. To your surprise, it takes less than half a second for her to respond, her hands moving up to cup your face. You kiss passionately like that until the simple need for air breaks you apart.

"I was starting to think all my work was for nothing," she says, a devilish grin on her face.

You raise an eyebrow at her; apparently, all your theories have just been confirmed. "You planned all this then?"

"I told you we know how to have our fun at these things," she comments, twirling a strand of hair in her finger.

"We?"

Mischief gleams in her gaze for a moment, “Maybe later. I know you’re a reporter, but you shouldn’t ask too many questions.”

She places a delicate finger to your lips as she gets up off your lap. The low ceiling of the booth doesn't allow her to stand up fully, but she doesn't have to as she crouches and reaches under her dress and begins pulling down her panties. "Fuck...these things are definitely ruined. I practically soaked them."

Her comment is more to herself than you, but your cock only grows harder at the revelation. You watch as she slides her thong down past her ankles, and her eyes fall to your crotch. With nimble fingers, she works on your button and zipper, springing free your aching cock.

"Oh wow..." she mutters, eyeing it with an animalistic hunger. "I would love to wrap my lips around that..."

"You're more than welcomed to," you groan, starting to get that sense of teasing with the amount of anticipation that is building. You are tempted to just force her head onto your cock, but you stop short when she speaks.

"Later. We don't have a lot of time."

Your disappointment at that statement is short-lived as she stands again and turns around. Rosé lifts her skirt and hovers over your lap. Grabbing hold of your member, you let out a groan as she positions it at her entrance, rubbing it for a second in her dripping juices. Unable to hold out, you thrust your hips slightly upward, causing your tip to pierce her folds.

"Mmm, somebody's anxious," she purrs, her accent coming out thick.

"Can you fucking blame me?" you say through gritted teeth, reaching out to grab her waist. Before you can yank her down, she beats you to it and spears herself on your rod. "Oh fuck," you let out, feeling how tight her petite body is.

"God, you feel fucking amazing," you mutter into her shoulder.

"Ah~...and you're...much bigger than you look," she says, clearly trying to adjust to the size she just filled herself with in one go. Apparently, the discomfort isn't so bad as she soon begins lifting and dropping herself on your cock slowly. "Try not—ooh— to get too loud," she moans out, her ass rocking against you.

"Speak for yourself," you grunt, your hands gripping her waist firmly as you start to move your hips to match the movement of hers.

You can't wrap your head around the fact that you're fucking a member of one of the most famous girl groups in the world in a photobooth at a gala with hundreds of celebrities. Thankfully, you don't need to wrap your head around it, as long as you keep fucking her. With that in mind, you take control of the pace, gripping her waist and forcing yourself up into her. Each time you spear her pussy, it's like another piece of heaven. Her pussy is squeezing you like there's no tomorrow, only increasing the pleasure you get with each thrust.

"Shit, yes, yes! Fuck me," Rosé chants in a loud whisper as she puts her hand on the console to steady herself as you thrust up into her.

"God, you're fucking tight," you moan, continuing to pound her Australian pussy. "Someone could look in here at any second."

"Oooh, I know," she lets out a shuddering breath.

"You're getting off on that, aren't you?" you continue the dirty talk, sliding a strap off her shoulder so you can push her top down to fondle her pert breast.

"Yes, yes! It fucking turns me on," Rosé pants.

For a moment, you fear she has given you away, but you're too far gone to truly care at this point. Her hands slide down the console, and you're only aware of what happens when the shutter of the camera makes you look up. Looking over Rosé's shoulder as she bounces up and down, you see your photo displayed, Rosé's mouth opened in pleasure.

Grinning to yourself, you increase the speed of your thrusts, determined to get her orgasm face by the last photo.

"OH!" she squeals, surprised by your sudden turn of action. "Oh fuck, right there. Keep going," she pants, her hand covering yours and holding it firmly against her breast.

You squeeze firmly, shoving every inch of your meat deep into her snatch. Her lithe body arches back into you. She's panting heavily, each thrust causing her to take a sharp breath. You turn her head towards you and kiss her, her hand gripping the back of your head. It's sloppy and passionate, perfectly fitting the current heated moment that is occurring.

"I'm close. I'm so fucking close," Rosé chants, continuing to grip your head as she moves her hips to yours.

A few moments later, you have to cover her mouth with your hand as she shrieks her orgasm. Her walls clench around you as she comes, her juices flooding your cock.

"I'm going to cum," you warn, knowing you aren't going to last through her orgasm.

"Mmmph," Rosé says, until you remove your hand, "In me! Cum inside me!"

You don't take a second to question it, instead thrusting your hips upward, your cock pushing into her one last time as you empty rope after rope of your seed into her womb. You continue unloading into the star for what seems like eternity until you both finally collapse in the booth. Her body heaves on top of yours as she tries to catch her breath.

"I don't think I've ever cum that hard before," you pant, causing the Blackpink singer to giggle.

"Don't speak too soon," she says, leaning back and kissing you softly on the lips. Thinking of what she could have planned only causes your cock to twitch inside her with anticipation.

One thing is for certain: this girl certainly knows how to have fun.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

#kpop smut #blackpink smut #male reader #rose x reader #rose x male reader #park chaeyoung x reader

1K notes · View notes

sturniologals · 3 months

Text

Car ride-M.S

Reader x Matt

-; warnings Smut (obvi), Praise kink, Dom!Matt, Cursing.

1.8k Words

My childhood best friend matt is standing outside of his house waiting on his date to pick him up and I can’t help but to wish that he would just walk across the street and confess his love for me and it would be us going out.

A black range rover pulls to the sidewalk, the street lamp on his sidewalk corner is the only light illuminating his features-and my god does he look good. I can feel my arousal growing as i shift on my bay window seat to try and get some friction but it does nothing.

Suddenly, the car is pulling away and matt is standing there looking annoyed, not sad- but bothered. I watch him start to walk up to his door but he stops at his porch steps and rubs his hands over his face in a stressful motion.

His cargo pants are hanging low on his waist and when his hands go up, his shirt strides up a bit revealing the bottom of his stomach. His V- line is perfectly carved and his skin looks oh so soft.

After a second of him seemingly stressing over something- he starts to walk over to my house.

This is an almost daily occurrence for us since the 3rd grade when i moved into this house and i started at the same elementary school as him but still- I can’t help but to feel the pit in my stomach anytime he comes over. My parents are gone out on their weekly date night so i’m home alone. The thoughts of what he could do to me race through my mind but they quickly shut off when i hear the doorbell and I quickly jog down the stairs, stopping in the hallway to check in the mirror, my freshly applied cherry lipgloss shining on my plump lips, my hair tied back in a low ponytail.

I take a moment to think about how i’m wearing just sweats and a t shirt but remember- it’s just matt. No need to stress, he’s seen me worse than this before.

I open up the door and matt is standing at my doorstep, anxiously cracking his knuckles. When i open the door wide enough for him to come in- he quickly does so. He doesn’t say anything and just starts to jog up my stairs, headed straight on the path to my bedroom that he’s came to know so well over the last 8 years.

“Matthew!” I shout trying to catch up with him.

I make it to my room, where he’s already sitting on my bed, his back against the headboard. He’s already discarded his sneakers onto the floor and is now draping one of my fuzzy blankets over his legs.

“Cmere y/n” he says as he throws an arm up for me to cradle into. this isnt anything weird for us. we’ve always been this close but in the last year, matts started to look different. better. His hair grew out and he started to dress better. He hit puberty which came with him growing to a 5 foot, 11 inches. compared to my 5 foot, 2 inches.

I don’t question him and i just crawl into my bed next to him and rest my head on his chest as his arm falls down and starts to rub up and down my arm. After a moment or so of silence, I start to debate on whether to ask what happened with his date.

“Matt?” i say, slightly tilting my chin up so i can see his face.

“Yeah y/n?” he says looking down at me.

“What happened with your date?” i say after finally working up the courage.

“Uhm-“ he shifts his body uncomfortably but continues to speak. “Mackie thought it was just a friend thing, i guess. so when she showed up and she had a bunch of friends with her, I got kind of annoyed and just wasn’t feeling it anymore.” He says in an unbothered tone.

“Wasn’t you clear on the fact that you liked her?” i say in a quiet voice.

“Woah not a fact. I didn’t like her, i was just slightly attracted to her and i just needed to-“ He stops talking and clears his throat. I can feel my cheeks go red as my mind understands what he’s trying to say and I feel a bulge grow beside my leg. i decide this is my chance to tease him.

“Ma-“ i start to sit up but he shoots up quickly “wanna go get food?” he says quickly standing up and putting his sneakers on. I am kinda hungry.

“Uhm yeah sure” I say with an awkward smile as i grab a blue hoodie out of my closet to throw on over my black t shirt.

“Ready?” he says, standing in my doorway. I nod and we go downstairs, I grab my car keys off the table and we both walk out the door.

“You drive” I say, tossing him the keys over the roof of my dark purple jeep Cherokee. He smiles and slides into the drivers seat.

I get into the passenger side and he immediately reaches over to buckle my seat belt. He’s done this ever since I was able to drive. He says i forget to do it so he just does it for me. His long, slender fingers sliding the buckle in sends a shiver down my spine. He turns on the ignition and I make sure my body is angling toward him. I pull my cherry lipgloss out of my pocket and apply it, once i feel his eyes on me, I move extra slow and run my tongue across my lips, acting as if i’m not paying attention to him but i can see him staring at me out of the corner of his eyes. “fuck” he mutters extremely quietly.

“Hm?” I say, turning my head back to face him.

“uh” he shakes his head “matt, are you okay?” i roll his name off of my tongue as seductively as i can as i lean over the middle console. We stop at a red light and i take the opportunity. “matt, look at me” he does so.

“Your acting weird.” i say once his eyes meet mine.

“You know what your doing y/n” he says lowly before the light turns green and he adverts his attention back to the road.

“I don’t know what your talking about.” i say with a slight giggle as he continues the drive to central downtown. “You know the reason mackie thought it was a friend thing is because of you right? she thinks we’re together.” matt says harshly while pulling over by a dark, empty field. “you’re gonna cock block me and then have the audacity to rile me the fuck up like this?”

His eyes grow dark as he unbuckles his seat belt and puts the car in park. His hand starts traveling up my thigh.

“I cock blocked you? how is that my fault that she thinks we’re together?” i spit out, my breathing heavy at the feeling of his touch.

“I see you y/n, eye fucking me anytime we’re near each other. You’ve been having those thoughts for a while now yeah?” He says, leaning extremely close now, our faces inches apart.

“Matt-“ my breathing hitches when he unbuckles me and pulls me onto his lap so i’m now straddling him.

“Fuck y/n. that lipgloss.” he says in a shaky voice while bringing his thumb up to my lips.

“Matt- don’t touch me if you don’t have feelings for me because you know damn well that i-“ i start to rant but he quickly presses his mouth to mine. I pull away quickly.

“So you do-“ i try to speak but his mouth is on mine again. His lips as soft as i thought they would be. His hands traveling up my sides, his grip firm as i feel his dick harden underneath me. I groan against the feeling as his tongue swipes against my lip seeking for entry which I allow. Our tongues gliding across one another in a fight for dominance. “Please” i groan quietly into his ear.

“please what baby? use your words.”

“touch me” i say into his ear as i start to kiss down his neck. he wastes no time as his hands quickly start to slide my sweatpants off. I move with him to make it easier for him to glide my pants off.

“fuck your drenched” he says breathlessly as he starts to rub my clothed pussy.

“Matt” i moan out.

“hm?”

“more” i pant out.

“more of what baby? tell me what you need.” he says while kissing my neck. his lips tugging and nipping at my sensitive skin.

“you matt- i want-“ my face goes red not wanting to say it.

“Say it baby. use your words.”

“i want your dick” i muster up the courage to spat out. He shifts underneath me and lets out a whimper at my words. his erection must be painful by now. He quickly slides his pants down to his thighs and lets his member spring free from the confines of his boxers, the tip red and swollen, already leaking pre cum.

“It’s too big-“ i say starting to panic at his at least 8 inches.

“your gonna be a good girl and take it, yeah?” he says and i nod eagerly. He places his hands on my hips and i help guide him to my entrance, his tip gathering in my juices before sliding into me causing me to let out a loud moan. He gives me barely any time to adjust before he’s ramming into me at a steady pace.

“Your so tight” he grunts out before leaning his head back against the seat.

“Ma-“ my words are cut off by the involuntary noises that start stringing from me when he starts to fuck up into me. I can already feel my release building and by the way his legs are shaking i can tell he’s almost there too. “Such a good girl” he praises which makes me go faster chasing our highs.

“Fuck y/n-“ he grunts out as i release onto him with a yell and he shoots his load into me. His thrusts slow down, riding out our high as we both slow our breathing. He pulls out and i rest my head on his shoulder.

“you know i love you right?” he says quietly, almost as if he’s afraid i’ll actually hear.

“you’re not just saying that because of what just happened are you?” i say quickly out of fear.

“Fuck no. No y/n, I just never knew that you felt like that about me until tonight.” He says while petting the back of my hair soothingly.

“I love you too matt” i say, placing a quick kiss onto his lips.

#sturniolos #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #dom!matt #praise k!nk

286 notes · View notes

acaaai-t · 4 days

Text

thinking about…

stranger! xiao whom you encountered through a unexpected bank robbery one sunny afternoon. It definitely was love at first sight for you, especially after he had tackled you— a mere stranger to him at the moment— down to shield you from the stray bullets being fired. It was chaos amidst the environment, but all you could think about was how close he was to you… archons he’s pretty.

stranger! xiao whom you practically had to chase after after the entire ordeal just to get his contact information. He had first denied your approach, but you just seemed far too determined to give up so easily. “Sir please,” you begged. “You quite literally saved my life back there, the least I can do is repay you with something.” … “Fine.”

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！

companion! xiao who has a grumpy face on at all times no matter the situation. You had invited him out for lunch as a way to thank him for his heroic act couple days ago, and this would be your chance to properly introduce yourself to him. The weather was near perfect today with the temperature hanging around in the low 70’s (20°C) and the skies cleared of clouds. His intimidating expression was also enough to make you nervous, but you pushed through. “Hi! My name is [name], what’s yours?” … “… Xiao.”

companion! xiao who you took out on a little amusement park hangout on a bright sunny Saturday afternoon. You hadn’t been to one in forever, and considering the fact that both of you had nothing better to do today, you dragged Xiao out with you.

companion! xiao who went near deaf after agreeing to go on a rollercoaster with you— which was a poor choice. The ride was exhilarating, but if you hadn’t been screaming bloody murder throughout the entire ride, it might’ve been a better experience. “I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, hands clasped together in a praying motion. Xiao didn’t say anything. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. As an add-on to your apology, you treated him to a plate of almond tofu. Yeah no, he forgives you.

companion! xiao who gets an unwanted feeling of annoyance when he sees you occupied with someone else other than him. A stranger had stopped you to ask for direction to the nearest bathroom, and being the kind hearted soul you are, pointed to the map and gave the path to his destination. Too close, he thought. What? Why was he feeling like this? Is this what people called jealousy?

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！

Xiao is in denial. He’s only known you for a month or two now, and feelings are beginning to worm its way into his heart. Unwarranted feelings that he wants no part of— yet it’s constantly in the back of his mind. You’re always on his mind. He can’t get you out, no matter what.

Your smile, your laugh, your mesmerizing beauty…

Archons, what is he meant to do now?

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！！

lover! xiao who wrestled with his feelings for weeks on end before finally caving in to it. You were blabbering on about some drama unfolding at your workplace at a cafe he’d invited you out to when all of a sudden he stopped you. He couldn’t even pay attention to your words, for all he could do was stare at your lips moving. “Is there something wrong with my face?” you asked, fingers dragging across your cheeks. Xiao was quick to answer, giving a hasty ‘no’.

lover! xiao who kept stuttering his words when confessing his feelings to you. The sun had begun to set, and you had brought him to a secluded area of the woods, where there was a near perfect view of the sunset. Your heart was pounding so heavily against your chest— it felt like it could burst out at any moment. Although Xiao looked more of a hot mess than you did; his face crimson red.

“I.. I like— archons. Oh fuck it [name] I like you. Not as in just friends if you understand, you know what I mean right? No, it’s totally okay if you don’t like me back like—”

lover! xiao who you had to shut up with a kiss to his lips, arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer to you. He seemed to had to take a moment to register what had just happened, and when it did finally process, he kissed back— hard. Is he dreaming?

just lover! xiao being the epitome of you fell first but he fell harder.

— ༉‧₊˚ 🐈‍⬛ ༉‧₊˚. . 。！！！！

✩ ·┆ masterlist

notes—

— more xiao content coming soon

#[💫] acaaai-t #astronetwrk #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin xiao #xiao x reader #genshin impact xiao #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #xiao genshin impact

142 notes · View notes

where-dreams-dwell · 3 months

Text

*One Day Netflix Spoilers*

You can interpret it however works for you, and I don’t know how it played out in the book, but I loved the scene where Em and Dex got together.

Because Emma *chose* Dexter. When she didn’t have to, when she had other options, knowing all of his baggage, and knowing that they would probably be able to stay friends if she didn’t. And she still chose to start something romantic with him.

Emma was at the highest point of her success: a published author, signed for a second book, sent to live abroad in an exciting new city. And she’d started seeing someone who (from the little we see) is kind, charming, and cares for her. Emma is winning in every sense!

And she initially rejects Dexter. Her reasons make sense; she doesn’t feel he truly *wants* to be with her, just that she’s there and he’s lonely. She is sure of herself and her place in the world, and turns down the man she used to crush on because she wants it to be real. When given this opportunity were not shown a knee jerk, desperate, ‘oh my god, finally, yes!’ moment when he says he wants to be with her. She was NOT waiting on this, and she’s not PINING for him. It actually shows huge strength that when the man she used to like finally wants to be with her, she has the inner strength to say no and stick to what she deserves; a proper relationship with someone who truly wants her, not a placeholder.

Dexter lays his heart on the line, leaves himself competent venerable, and Em says no.

You could interpret Em coming back as unsatisfactory: a woman in her prime, going back to the man she’s been pining over most of her adult life. But it can also be seen as an empowering moment.

Emma knows all of Dexters issues and chooses him anyway. Dexter has literally just laid out his current headspace and issues, and it’s clear she was supporting him as the divorce was announced and agreed upon. And previous episodes show they’ve been close throughout Dexters marriage and fatherhood, with Em stopping in at his job and answering his late night calls. She’s been his best friend again for several years and knows his struggles, so she is going in to any romantic relationship with her eyes open.

Reducing Emma’s choice to being a silly or naive one I think misses huge parts of who she is, things which are key to her characterisation. Throughout the series she’s shown as intelligent, savvy, switched on and determined. Even when she’s unhappy or trying different things, she is sure in her conviction to do *something*. When she’s unhappy at the restaurant and Dex suggests teaching she makes a career change and trains. When she’s at her lowest (post headteacher affair and loosing Dex) she turns rock bottom into a spring board and tries once again to write her novel.

Emma is the embodiment of conviction. Whether it’s knowing what she wants or just knowing what she doesn’t, she is decisive and commits to her path. She’s the perfect foil for Dex who’s lesson across the series is to stop running from difficult feelings, and learn to process unpleasant emotions.

So she didn’t choose Dexter on a whim, and I love that they showed that. Em leaves Dex, turns him down, and goes to dinner with her lover in the city she’s loving living in, while doing the job she always wanted.

And she could have left it like that and they would have likely remaking friends. They did after that kiss at Tilly’s wedding, and after they slept together. So she has nothing to loose by rejecting him.

But Emma *chooses* Dex. She knows herself and what she wants, she knows who she is and what she is now capable of. What she wants, if it’s on the table, is to be with Dexter. So she commits to it.

They could have made her jump at the option to be with Dex. The writer could have had them get together when Dex was at the height of his fame or Em at the lowest point of her life. And either of those could have easily had a sense of fear on Em’s part: to be equal to Dex, to be good enough for him (in her head), to finally make it. But doing it this way gives her all the power, all the agency. And I *love* that.

From comments later it’s clear their relationship was good, they do work well together and they make one another happy. We’ll never know how Emma’s life could have gone if she stayed with Jean-Pierre. But the life she chose with Dex *was* happy. As Ian said ‘[Dex] made her so so happy’: wether you think she could have done better or deserved more, a life with someone who makes you happy… isn’t an insignificant thing.

We’ll never know if it was *the right* choice to be with Dex. But seeing how happy she was it’s clear it was a *good* choice. And that’s all we can ever hope for.

#spoilers #one day #one day netflix #emma morley #dexter mayhew #the power of choosing #female characters

267 notes · View notes

thewritetofreespeech · 5 months

Note

Can I request JJK men doing kabedon on the reader?

‘I’m late! I’m late! I’m late!’ You curse in your head over & over as you try to rush down the hall. Like if you chanted it enough times it wouldn’t be true.

Your alarm hadn’t gone off, so you were running late to classes. Barely enough time to put yourself together and make it out the door. Yaga-sensei was going to kill.

“Hey [Y/N]!”

You were barely able to skid to a stop when Satoru came around the corner in front of your path. The grin on his face made it clear that this wasn’t a happy accident. He had been planning to ‘run into you’ there. “Not now Gojo! I’m going to be late!”

“Ehhh? You? Late? What’s the world coming to??”

You glare at Satoru and try to get past him quickly, but his long arm snatched you up and spun you around to pin you to the wall. “Hey now. What’s the rush? You’re already late, right?”

That grin on Satoru’s face never left. In fact, it crawled up higher as he leaned in closer to you. His lanky height towering over you as if he made it a point to use all of it against you. “I…I don’t want to be later than I already am.” Your face must have been beet red. It certainly felt hot.

Satoru hummed once, then seemed to take pity on you and let you go. Releasing you from the cage he had built for you and taking a step back. “Run along then, I guess. If you need a note from a teacher let me know.” He gave you a little wave, and another smirk, and you felt a shudder go up your spine before you sprinted off again. Arriving to class flushed, and not just from the run.

This was Toji’s favorite position to have you in. Except of course the ones where you are laying down.

His large body pinning you against the wall of the corridor. A wall of flesh. No, more than that. Walls were static and flat. Toji was more fluid. Like a cat, a big jungle cat. One of those big cats you had seen on TV in one of those nature documentaries. The ones that are just poised to strike their prey. Coiled back. All muscle and compressed energy. This tense in the air of waiting for them to strike, and that any sudden movement might trigger a response.

That was what you felt like pinned against the wall by Toji. He was the big cat waiting to strike, and you were his unwitting, but willing, pretty.

“You wanna get out of here?”

To entranced by the moment (the tension, his smell, those muscles) all you can do is nod. That was all it took for Toji to pounce on you. Finally landing his strike. Not taking you anywhere but right in the alley.

“Hey [Y/N]! Can you come over here? There’s something I need to show you.”

You perk up and look around the corner, just in time to see Yuji put his phone in his pocket, before coming into the room. “What’s up?”

“Can you stand over here please?” He seemed a little nervous, but no more nervous than his usual keyed-up-Yuji-energy. So you oblige. Your back at the wall and looking at him. “Now lace your fingers together like this.” You arch a brow but comply, mimicking his movements. “Ok. Now inside fingers up!” You do it and then Yuji reached forward with his hand, grabbed yours, and lifted you linked fingers and arms over your head. Pinning your arms above you. “W’as up?”

A blush tinted your cheeks for a second before you snickered and just full on started laughing.

“You’re not supposed to laugh!” Yuji whined. Looking crestfallen his smooth moves didn’t work on you. “It went better in the TikTok….”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You apologies. Pulling Yuji in close for a hug by the waist. His face heating up now. “It’s just funny that you did all that build up for that. I wasn’t laughing at you. Do you want to try again? I promise I won’t laugh this time.”

“N-No…I think I like this better.”

“….I don’t get it….”

You return Megumi’s frown. Apparently, he wasn’t seeing the fun in it. “It’s supposed to be sexy….”

When your friend told you about the little stun Yuji had tried to pull on them, of course you wanted to try it with Megumi. Besties sharing besties and bestie tactics was one of the fun parts of your relationship. But Megumi wasn’t Yuji. So you shouldn’t have expected him to be on board immediately.

“I just don’t think it’s very sexy.” He replied. Releasing you from your very loose pinning. “I just feel like I’m trying to crush you. Or intimidate you. I don’t want to do that.”

“It’s not supposed to be ‘intimidating’.” Although you supposed that was sweet of him. Wanting to respect you and your space. “It’s supposed to be…sexy intimidating. You know, like dangerous.”

“Our lives aren’t dangerous enough?”

“Not like that.” This was getting a little exasperating. Finally you sighed and just announce, “here. Let me show you.” You quickly change places with Megumi, before he can object, and pin him against the wall. With your height difference you have to start with his shoulders, since you couldn’t just put your arm by his head like you’re supposed to, pressing them hard against the wall and letting him slump a little before putting your arm up beside his head. “See. Like that.”

Your boyfriend didn’t say anything. His eyes just a little wide. The tips of his ears a little pink, which was quickly flooding in on the rest of his face, before he brushed you off and stood upright again. “I…I think I get it now…”

You smirk at his reaction and ask him, “want to try it again a little later? Maybe in your bedroom? On your bed?”

“N-No!” He barked back. But his bravado quickly dissipated and he muttered, “….maybe…”

244 notes · View notes

ginnymoonbeam · 5 months

Text

One thing I really love in Last Twilight is how crystal clear both Mok and Day's internal journeys are. We can see each of them recognizing feelings, probing, processing, waiting for a response. The camera gives us these moments of stillness and Jimmy and Sea absolutely deliver the quiet awareness that's appropriate to the specific moment. And the trajectory is clear! From a few scattered moments in eps 1 and 2 we've seen a steady increase over 3 and 4, as the closeness and attraction builds.

So often in BL I'm left wondering how the characters are thinking about their relationship, how aware they are that there's an attraction here on either side. It's so nice to be left in no doubt, and to get to see the slow growing of awareness on both sides.

Their different paths are also very revealing. I'm reading Day as someone who already knew he liked men and might have had some experience. He's been responding to Mok like he knows he could be attracted to him but isn't letting himself go there. That's a wall queer people get very used to putting up as we interact in a mostly-straight environment.

Mok, on the other hand, might or might not have already known that he can like men. He doesn't seem to be having any identity crisis stuff around it (although the pink shirt conversation from ep 3 maybe had some layers), but his journey is a much more straightforward "oh I'm having Feelings about him" discovery, and he doesn't seem especially hesitant to probe the edges of that. He's testing the spark between them, exploring it, seeing if he can push it further.

And finally Mok pushes enough to break the "can't go there" wall Day has up. Finally Day wants to see his face and isn't afraid of how he'll feel if he does... because by now Mok has given him enough to feel like it's worth the risk. (And having Porjai treat it as a possibility definitely helps.) As of the end of ep 4 Day is allowing himself to think "well what if I did like him?"

Not a word of this has been spoken on either side, but it's absolutely clear from the looks and actions on each side, and for that I want to kiss the writers, director, and actors on both cheeks.

#last twilight the series

223 notes · View notes

suashii · 11 months

Text

୨♡୧ UMBRELLA — suna x reader. sfw. fluff.

requested by sage ( deactivated :'( ) for my rin round up event!

the one day you forget to stuff your umbrella into the side of your backpack, it rains.

not a light drizzle that would be mildly annoying at most, but the kind of rainfall that you can hear pelting against the windows—the kind that you definitely don’t want to walk home in.

you let out a huff at seeing the time. it’s later than you should be leaving and you can’t help but think that maybe you would have missed the rain if you had left an hour earlier like you normally do on any other weekday. there’s no telling how long it’ll be before it lets up, so, unfortunately, you’ll be stuck in this building until the weather clears up enough for you to make a run for it.

instead of making every minute feel painstakingly longer by watching puddles form on the sidewalk beyond the door, you turn on your heel with the intention of killing time by watching something on your phone. though, before you can make it to one of the many tables, your path is blocked by a broad body. when you look up, you’re met with unmistakable grayish-yellow eyes.

“so the rumors are true,” suna starts, eyeing you up and down before meeting your gaze once more with a playful smirk. “you’re bound to this school and can’t ever leave.”

in all the time you’ve known suna, you don’t think you’ve heard one serious thing come out of his mouth. you can’t be sure if it’s just you or if he’s always so flippant. you roll your eyes, shaking your head at his dumb statement. “it’s raining and i don’t want to get wet.”

suna raises his eyebrows. “no umbrella? i thought you were always prepared.”

there he goes again, taunting you like it’s a game. it’s been this way since high school and back then you’d respond to his jokes with jabs of your own. it’s never bothered you a great deal but right now, all you want is to go home and suna reminding you that you can’t serves as the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“don’t you have anything better to do than stand here and make fun of my oversight?” you look past him, eyes scanning the lobby for a suitable spot to spend who knows how long.

something about your tone makes suna’s grin fade. it’s not jesting like usual and he’s afraid that the hint of exhaustion he hears in your words has to do with him. joking around with you is much less fun when you aren’t in on it—especially if his teasing has truly struck a nerve.

suna would never consider himself to be well-versed in kind gestures, but he thinks that he might have some way to make up for overstepping.

“i guess i could walk you home,” he offers. there’s a glint of doubt in your eyes as you stare at him. he isn’t sure if it’s because the suggestion is strange coming from him or if you think he’s no better suited to brave the weather than you are. suna can’t do much about that first one, but to prove that he can in fact get you home dry, he pulls out the umbrella from the mesh holding of his backpack and holds it up beside him. “i have an umbrella.”

part of you feels like a fifteen minute walk with suna—someone you would barely consider a friend—is bound to be at least a little bit awkward but a larger part of you is willing to put up with that if it means you can finally get off this campus. “fine. but only because i really want to get home.”

“of course.” suna nods. he steps past you to push open the heavy door, pressing the button to extend the umbrella. the waterproof canopy shields his dark hair from the rain and he jerks his head to the side in a silent gesture for you to follow him.

you do, careful to step close enough so that you’re also under the umbrella but not so close that you’re bumping shoulders with him. “it’s this way,” you point in the direction of your apartment building.

suna nods again and sets off, pacing his steps so that they’re in line with yours. other than the rain hitting the canopy and the sound of your footsteps, it’s silent. you cross your arms and shy away from the edge of the umbrella where water is dripping. it brings you a little closer to suna but the warmth emanating from him is preferable to the sleeve of your sweater getting soaked.

“so,” suna’s smooth voice cuts through the silence, “what were you doing at the sports center?”

you can’t stop your head from turning to look at him, though, his gaze is still focused ahead. seems like that point you made earlier suna never having anything serious to say no longer stands. you’re sure he’s trying to ward off the awkward air surrounding the two of you. you’re sure he’s just trying to be nice, that he doesn’t really care what you were up to, but you answer him anyway. “oh, i was interviewing for a job at the front desk.”

suna’s lips part as he readies to respond with one of his usual quips—something like being able to bother you more often if you get the position—but he quickly presses them closed. he’ll end up running you away if he keeps at it so frequently and that’s the last thing he wants. even though it may not seem like it, suna likes having you around. he likes it a lot.

so he settles for, “that’s cool.”

“the description actually sounds pretty boring.” sitting behind a desk, answering calls, and constantly being around student athletes isn’t exactly your idea of fun but working on campus is convenient and you need the money so you’re hoping for a call back with good news.

“i don’t know,” suna starts, finally turning his gaze to you. there’s a sparkle of playfulness in his eyes. “watching atsumu flirt and fumble is pretty entertaining. it’s like a neverending show.”

the mental image of atsumu flaunting his position as the volleyball team’s setter in an attempt to impress a crowd and maybe walk away with someone’s number makes you chuckle. “okay, that does sound kinda funny.”

your laugh catches suna a bit off guard but aside from his initial surprise, he finds it pretty. sure, he’s heard it plenty of times in passing before, though, never this close. and he’s never been the reason behind your laugh. it’s probably a little silly, but he thinks it sounds even sweeter when he’s the one who caused it.

the rest of your walk is highlighted by natural conversation; questions from you about volleyball and questions from suna about your extracurriculars. it’s uneventful and utterly normal and the exact opposite of what you would expect from suna. although, you don’t dislike it. in fact, you think you could get used to it.

time passes a lot faster in suna’s company and before you know it, you’re standing outside your building. it’s quiet again as suna holds the umbrella over you while you enter your pin to unlock the main door. an automated click sounds through the air and you pull on the handle so it doesn’t lock again. awkwardly, you turn to face suna. “thanks… for walking with me. and sharing your umbrella.”

he dramatically gasps, pressing his free hand to his chest in yet another show of theatrics. “was that a thank you i heard?”

suna is almost sure he’s taken it too far again before you smile.

“don’t get used to it,” you tell him as you step into the dry lobby of your building. before the door closes, you raise your hand in a wave. “bye, suna.”

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #suna rintaro #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles #suna imagines #haikyuu imagines #suna scenarios #haikyuu scenarios

551 notes · View notes

miaowitch · 2 months

Text

What Makes a Date? (18+)

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Read on Ao3 or below !!

Sam (SDV) / Fem! Farmer OC

cw ⋆｡‧˚♡ swearing, smut, porn with plot, grinding over clothes, blowjobs, cumming without warning, sam pov, sams a loser?, canon/oc

summary ⋆｡‧˚♡

Sam has two tickets to his favorite band, but none of his friends want to come with him. What does he do instead? Ask the farmer on a totally platonic outing, just as friends with no underlying feelings! Everything should go according to plan, especially the part where he ends up in her house! Right?

5k words

Sam found himself in an odd situation. Two tickets to a concert in Zuzu City, two busy friends, and one available farmer. He’d been talking with Bella for a few months. Every time she came around he couldn’t help feeling like his heart would burst from his chest alien-style, but all in all he tried his hardest to be normal around her. Even if he’d written hundreds of scrapped melodies about her, even if he dreamt of her constantly, even if he wanted her laugh as his alarm clock. Samuel Neilson was a normal 20-year-old who could have hot friends.

He’d been a fan of the band JamPot since middle school, and he figured Sebastian and Abigail would’ve died hearing about the tickets. They were all massive fans in fact, they’d discovered them together on YouTube in fact. Sure, he could only take one, but Sebastian rarely left his house anyway. Abigail was his backup plan for concerts most times, he just liked extending the offer to Seb. Abigail would never turn down the option to go to a concert without paying.

He decided to ask them both on their weekly pool night, Sebastian was riding on his first win of the night and Abigail was lounging on the couch closest to the table. Sam thumbed the tickets in his pocket before working up the courage to ask, “Hey uh-” He started, pulling out the envelope. “Either of you wanna go with me to see JamPot on Saturday?” Sam’s hopeful tone was instantly crushed by their simultaneous rejection. “Sorry, Sammy. I’ve got plans on Saturday.” Abigail finally looked up from her phone to look at his defeated expression. “Yeah, I’ve gotta catch up on work. It wouldn’t be smart to..” Sebastian had just finished setting up the next game, but Sam couldn’t care less. “Whaat?” Sam whined out, leaning on the pool stick now. “I spent 50 on the other ticket, just hoping one of you’d tag along!”

Sebastian, as if he was unbothered by his friend's distress, just rolled his eyes in response. “Just ask Bella.” Beginning the match by hitting the cue ball, managing to hit a solid color into a corner pocket. Sam stood dumbfounded. He didn’t want to go alone, but he also didn’t know if Bella would even agree to the…date? Would it be a date? He pondered for a minute before Sebastian cleared his throat in frustration. “You’re stripes, now play the fucking game, dude.”

The rest of the night, Sam was in a sort of daze, wondering if he was even close enough to the farmer to ask her to a concert. What if she rejected him, thinking it was a date? What if he wanted it to be a date? After his…circumstances with Penny, he wasn’t sure if he should even try to make a move. Walking out of the pub at 11, he was still thinking about Sebastian’s suggestion. Abigail waved goodbye, the one sober member of the group. Sam was slumped on Sebastian’s shoulder, the two held each other up with drunk motivation. “Can I..” Sam sighed, tossing his head back. “Just take me to your basement, Sebby.” He didn’t plan on drinking so much, but he knew his mom would kill him if he walked in wasted. “Whatev’r…” Sebastian slurred back, as he lead Sam around the corner to the mountain path.

Sam didn’t quite remember how he’d gotten to Sebastian’s house. He woke up with a twinging headache, sprawled on the rug next to Sebastian’s bed. An old throw blanket was tossed over top of his body, but no pillow. His mouth was dry, lips cracked slightly as he pried them apart. “Seb…” He groaned, his voice was dangerously hoarse. Clearing it, he called once more as he sat up. “Seb. Get up.” Sam reached up to push at Sebastian’s sleeping back, but only received an angry groan in return. Being friends with Sebastian for so long, he understood that groan as a rejection to waking up.

Sam decided to just leave on his own, his mother was probably concerned about the fact that he hadn’t even come home. The alarm clock on Sebastian’s bedside read off [11:00 am]. He sighed, searching for his shirt that had been thrown off in the night. Picking himself up from the floor, he grabbed his phone, found his shirt, and slipped on his laceless shoes. Hobbling up the stairs was the hardest part, with stiff joints it was hard to even walk a straight line.

“Hello, Sam!” Robin announced to the house as Sam emerged from the basement. He winced at her volume, but still put on a smile. “Hey, Robin, sorry I crashed last night.” Sam adjusted the faded band shirt, hoping she couldn’t tell he’d been half naked two seconds prior. “Seb’s still asleep downstairs, I don’t know if he’s getting up any time soon.” He rubbed the back of his neck, anxious that Robin could still smell the alcohol. She didn’t seem to catch on, laughing softly. “Oh, Sam, you don’t have to apologize for staying over.” She sat back in the chair behind the front counter. “You two always stay up so late at night, at least you’re having fun.”

Sam said his goodbyes, walking out the front door and closing it silently for the sake of his aching head. He took a deep breath, feeling around in his pocket for his phone to text his mom that he was headed home. Instead, Sam found the tickets that cursed him. “Fuck.” He muttered to himself, but apparently not quiet enough. Bella was rounding the corner at that very moment.

“Fuck what?” She appeared with a sly, teasing smile. Sam felt his throat tighten up. “Me?” He replied with a violent voice crack. Sam couldn't help feeling like an ass when Bella was around. Something about her jet black hair, piercing blue eyes, and….assets? He didn't want to disrespect her, she was a nice friend. Why would he talk about her like that? He respected her too much.

Bella laughed, harmoniously (to Sam). While covering her smile, which killed Sam, she dropped it after her giggles. A happy sigh escaped her, straightening up to really get a good look at him. “You look rough.” Bella spoke with almost a hinge of concern, looking him up and down. Sam had been so caught up in overthinking, he forgot completely about why he had been overthinking. “Rough? Yeah, I guess I feel the same too.” His hand nervously rubbed at his neck, Sam had a habit of doing it. “A-Actually I had a question for you!” Bella cocked her head, Sam felt his stomach toss.

Bella was a girl who loved music. It was her and Sam’s first conversation. Wearing an old TilledSoil shirt, a band Sam had seen upwards of 10 times. After their hour of conversation on their favorite bands, Sam deemed Bella to be cool. He knew she would agree to going to a free concert with him, but was he even confident enough to ask her out? “What’s up?” Bella asked, now actually concerned for Sam. He’d been clutching the tickets for the entire time. The ticket envelope crumpled in his grip. “Do you wanna go to a concert with me- If you’re not busy or- or anything.” He felt like a total ass.

There was no reason for her to actually reject him, but every bone in his body was cringing out. Standing in front of his best friend’s house, asking someone to go on a maybe-date. If Sebastian had been awake, he’d be instantly cooked. “What band?” Bella spoke up to break the internal panic that fogged his brain. That and the hangover headache. “JamPot!” Sam blurted out, making his headache come back with a vengeance. “They’re just…some dumb pop punk band from overseas.. I just have another ticket!” Yet she was already smiling, “JamPot? I don’t think I’ve listened to them since middle school!” Pulling out her phone, she looked back up at him. “When’s the show?”

Sam seemingly forgot every single detail about the show in that very minute. After frantically opening the envelope to look at the tickets, he looked back up. “Tomorrow, doors at 7?” Bella then started looking through her phone for a moment. “I’ll drive too! All you gotta do is tag along!” Sam wasn’t trying to beg, but god, he just didn’t want to waste the money. She looked back up with a smile, “Deal, I’m free to go tomorrow.” Stammering to himself for a moment, Sam finally got out a sentence. “Cool! I’ll pick you up at 6?” Bella agreed, and Sam floated back into town on a high.

Sure, his mom was pissed, and he was slightly late to work. Sam just couldn’t care. He was just really excited to hang out with his friend Bella. There wasn’t anything else lingering there, no matter how many times Sebastian and Abigail brought it up. This was just two really good friends going to hang out at a concert. Getting close, and sweaty…and doing normal friend things. Sam wasn’t going to ruin anything. Surely.

Sebastian and Abigail heard the ‘news’ from him over a text, both were convinced it was going to end in Sam’s demise. Abigail bet on Bella thinking it was a date, but Sam shut her down immediately. There’s no way Bella would think it was a date. Even as he put a little bit of extra time into getting ready the next day, he was positive that Bella was on the same page as him. After assuring himself that his hair was perfectly quaffed, he headed out to pick up Bella.

His car was just a hand-me-down from Jodie, her old car from before they’d gotten a family van. Sam wasted a few minutes throwing trash from the passenger to the backseat. Scrambling just to make it to the farm at six. Pelican Town wasn’t the most drivable, but it was still nice to have a car for longer trips. He just hoped it was comfortable enough for Bella. Not that it was a big deal, of course, she was just like every other friend. He just wanted her to enjoy her first ride in his car.

Sam arrived at the farm at 5:52, pulling into the gravel driveway just after he was done freaking out about being late. He fixed his hair in the rearview mirror, fussing over nothing at all. Waiting for just another minute, he was too impatient and honked at the horn once. He didn’t have her number, but he also wasn’t sure if he could just walk up to the front door. What if she thought he was rushing her? At the moment Sam honked– Bella opened her front door. A black cat ran from the house, and Bella locked up the front door. Sam was leaning on the steering wheel, watching her. When she looked at him with a smile, he instantly straightened up. His palms were grossly sweaty, and suddenly he felt underdressed.

Bella walked to the passenger side of the car. Sam for a moment felt compelled to brush off the seat before she sat down, but still held himself back. Sharing greetings, Sam took a moment to really look at her. Trying to get his breath back, he smiled. “Ready for the show?” Sam managed to get out, gripping the wheel with white knuckles. Bella could probably wear a burlap sack and look good, but her black skinny jeans and cropped tee suited her perfectly. Bella smiled back, buckling in. “You know it.”

It was hard to pay attention to the road with her in the passenger seat. Bella wasn’t distracting in a bad way, but Sam couldn’t help wondering what the feeling in his gut was. He just didn’t want to mess anything up. The drive wasn’t boring by any means, Bella and Sam talked the whole way there. Bella mentioned listening to JamPot’s new album, and Sam had to hold himself back from gushing about each detail in the chord progressions. But– It wasn’t long until he did start gushing about it. It was really difficult for Sam to not spill every thought around her. Normally, people would just grin and bare it while Sam rambled about music, but Bella listened to him. She seemed like she really was interested, a rare find. The drive and the time spent waiting in line was mostly just the pair talking about shared interests. Finding out she also preferred Hawaiian Pizza was a game changer for him.

The venue was old. It’d been there since the early 70s, but was still kept up with. High ceilings, low concrete floors and bars located on both sides. It was already halfway packed in, the merch tables weren’t busy either. Small fairy lights decorated the trim of the brick walls, highlighting the merch tables easily.

When they were actually in the venue, Bella split off to find the merch table while Sam grabbed a spot on the floor. “I’ll see you in a few.” She smiled, softly placing a hand on his upper arm before walking off. Before Sam melted to the sticky concrete, he had to text his friends. Sending a frantic text to Sebastian, Sam felt his head swimming. [ “Is this a date?” ] He typed the words with nervous, shaking thumbs. Sam was wrong, kicking himself in the ass. What if he was in the process of destroying any chance with Bella? What if he did like her more than he was allowing himself?

[ “Yes.” ] Sebastian responded, Sam mentally crumbled.

This was the issue with Sam. He didn’t read the room properly, didn’t understand most situations. It’s what ruined a lot of past relationships for him. Bella didn’t seem like she was hating their conversations, but girls were just so confusing to him. During his overthinking, Bella returned. A new beanie on her head, and a CD in her hand. The new JamPot album. “I got this for you, I wasn’t sure if you had it already.” Holding it out to him, Bella had no clue what had been occurring in Sam’s head. “What?! I’ll pay you back, Bella, I swear.” All fear dropped from his mind, her presence was enough for him to stop overthinking. She shook her head, “It’s for the ticket, don’t worry about it.” Bella’s hand touched his arm again. Soothing his anxiety, but slightly raising his blood pressure.

After each of the two openers, Bella and Sam kept getting closer and closer. The crowd crushed together in excitement, filling the air with the heat of upwards of 200 people. “Are you okay?” Sam spoke up, bending to Bella’s ear just so she could hear him. She responded with a thumbs up, but still moved closer to Sam. Somehow they’d pressed forward to the barricade, in the middle-left. The headliner hadn’t come on yet, but Sam was preparing. His hands were holding the barricade, with Bella standing between them. He knew she’d be fine on her own in the crowd, but he wanted to keep her safe. The crowd had been rough all night, the openers being much heavier than JamPot, but Sam didn’t want her getting crushed against anyone else.

Music played across the loudspeakers to fill the silence for the crowd during the stage set. The energy throughout the show had made him less high-strung, less worried on the topic of their night. “You’re having fun, right?” Sam asked, again at a higher volume, just so she could hear him. Bella nodded, leaning against the barricade and looking up at him. “Thanks for bringing me, Sam!” She hadn’t been able to stop smiling that night.

It was honestly rare that Sam had seen her leave the farm. She and Abigail hung out by the mines occasionally, and he’d see her on walks by the water. Sam just rarely saw her doing anything out of Pelican Town in the few months they’d known each other. He liked taking her out, taking her places with him. “N-No problem.” Feeling that same tossing in his stomach, for some reason his face felt hotter. Maybe it was just the room?

If Sam thought the first half of the show was close quarters, he wasn’t ready for the second half. Pressing up tightly to Bella’s back as she jumped around was the hardest thing Sam had to endure. On one hand, Bella was safe and comfortable at the barricade, while Sam had to get knocked into continuously. On the other, every single movement against Sam’s dick was like the purest form of torture. It’s not like she was grinding into him, but every once in a while they’d make contact when Bella would start jumping around. Gritting his teeth through it, Sam stood strong. Even if he ached, feeling the slightest brush of her hair against him. Her perfume with hints of clove, brushing by him, was his own heaven. The only thing Sam could circle back to at that moment was the original question.

Was it a date? Sam really tried to focus on the band, but how could he? He’d tune in for a song, then get lost in thought, staring at the back of Bella’s head. The end of the show came quicker than he’d been paying attention. The encore was really just one song, then the whole night was over. Sam felt like an ass, once again, for letting his mind wander all night. Walking out of the venue, Sam stayed close behind Bella. He felt like he’d been a weird freak all night, he just watched her. Bella didn’t notice anything, she’d been talking about how great the show was all the way to the car. Sam bantered back, acting as if he had really watched the concert.

After finally making it to the car, everything sort of shifted. Bella felt a little shyer now that they were fully alone. “Um– Sam?” She asked, as Sam put his keys in to start the car. “Yeah, Bella?” He looked over to her, the radio in the car started playing some obnoxious radio song. The CD hadn’t been automatically reading, so he reached up to press the button. “Well, I just wanted to thank you for taking me on this date. I really had a lot of fun with you tonight.”

Sam froze in place.

Date? It was a Date?

The annoying pop track played its repetitive tune. Sam was staring at Bella with a dumb look on his face. “It was a–?” He managed to catch himself before saying his first thought, “Right– Well, I just thought..” His extended hand toward the stereo retracted, holding the back of his neck to feel at any beads of sweat. “I just thought it was about time, y’know?” A goofy grin cracked on his face, feeling suddenly free of his worries. “Me too..” Bella had been messing with a strand of hair framing her face. “I really appreciate it, Sam. We should really do this again, okay?” She smiled again, softly. The fluorescent lights in the garage gave her an outer glow, a soft halo on her black hair. Sam had to look away before he forgot the route home.

Still, a sort of tension lingered in the car. They talked like normal, joking about the show. They talked about typical things from the daily special at the saloon, to weather during the week. Sam considered for a moment that he was just being dense, not understanding the palpable pauses between each topic. Bella adjusted in her seat every few minutes, Sam could’ve sworn he caught her looking his way every few minutes. His energy was high from the concert’s atmosphere, so maybe his mind was just working overtime.

Eventually, though, they made it to Bella’s home. Pulling in the same gravel driveway as a few hours prior. Sitting in silence for a moment, neither truly wanted the night to be over with. Bella finally offered though, “Sam, I think I might have a pizza in the house. If you’re hungry or something..” Bella played with the fabric of her beanie, now clutched in her lap. Her hair was slightly messed up from hat hair, but to Sam, she hardly looked imperfect.

“Yeah, uh.. I don’t see why not.” Sam turned off the car a little too enthusiastically. Mentally high-fiving himself for making it this far. Considering how the situation started, he didn’t even think he’d be in a car with Bella. Let alone be on a date with Bella. It was only midnight, his mom knew he’d be back late, so Sam didn’t have any reason to say no.

“Sorry if it’s a little messy, I don’t normally have people over..” She apologized, unlocking the door with a set of keys attached to a decorated keychain. Sam figured it would probably be cleaner than his room, and he was right in assumption. Bella was exaggerating. Only a couple of cups laid on the coffee table, a few sweatshirts and jackets were draped on one of the dining room tables, and burnt out candles littered the main living room. “It’s not messy, don’t worry.” Sam made sure to close the door behind him, only slightly jumping when a black cat ran through the house and towards the bedroom.

Sam quickly followed Bella into the kitchen, where she was staring at the box of frozen pizza branded with JojaMart logos. “Have you had this before?” She asked with a pensive tone, looking over her shoulder and back at Sam standing in the doorway. He felt a knot in his throat. “Please, I think I’ve had every frozen pizza in the Joja aisles.” Sam tried to push past it, leaning on the dining table to keep himself from collapsing.

“It says it’ll take 30 minutes, can you wait that long?” Bella set the box on the counter and turned to him. It was one of those fancier brands with a rising crust. “I could make us some sandwiches if you’re too tired, I know I’m already keeping you out pretty late..” Her lips pursed in thought, but Sam scrambled. “I-I can wait!” Bella began opening the box, and setting the frozen disk pizza onto the tin tray. Watching her preheat the oven, Sam felt his heart race. Two peers, in a house…alone. Sam hadn’t thought this far ahead.

Sure, he’d kept a condom in his wallet, but that didn’t mean he just expected to get laid. He wasn’t that cocky. He understood that they were just two friends, fresh off an unexpected date. Two very available people that liked each other a considerable amount. Sam just knew the kind of guy that he was. He wasn’t the type to hold off if he wanted something. And god, did he want Bella.

She turned around now, unaware of the horrible thoughts in Sam’s brain. He wondered if he should just go home. “Well, we’ve got a 30-minute wait… anything you wanna do while we wait?” Bella took a few steps closer, setting the flannel she was wearing on the kitchen table behind Sam. “You.” He felt tempted to say his desires out loud, but held himself firm. “Oh, I could just watch TV if you want.” He was lying, but it was late. Sam doubted that she was that into him.

Following Bella into her living room, he took a spot on one end of her blue, velvet couch. Bella placed herself on the other side after getting the remote to her tiny television set. She sat forward, stiff as she tapped through channels, just trying to find something to fill their silence. The tension between the two was thick, Sam just tried to relax. Leaning back in his seat and getting comfortable. It was almost 11 at night, there was nothing to be worried about. As if the notorious early bird farmer Bella would stay up much later than 12.

A couple of minutes passed, but Bella didn’t seem to relax. Sam kept stealing glances, but each time she would lock eyes with him. Her panic hidden as she looked back to the boring music documentary they landed on. “Are you comfortable?” Sam finally offered, figuring that it was an innocent question. Bella finally looked at him, “Um… Well…” She shifted in her seat, “I guess not, I just can’t rest after concerts..” Bella seemed almost embarrassed, “I just have such a hard time laying down..”

Sam opened an arm at the instant. “C’mere then, I’ll show you how to relax, Bella.” He didn’t have bad intentions at all. Sebastian was the same way, you had to force him down to get any sleep after going through concert adrenaline. Sam had no problem getting cozy, he just wanted to help her out.

He was more than surprised when she actually agreed to it, Bella gladly crawled over to lay on his chest. Sam positioned himself to lay along the couch, one hand behind his head to pad the hard arm of the couch. Bella just draped herself on the inside of the couch, pressed onto him, but hardly comfortable. She still felt like she wasn't quite comfortable, so Sam let a hand creep down and rub the space between her shoulders. A sigh released, and Bella let her guard down.

Sam’s hand continued to rub circles around her back, and Bella’s sighs became more frequent. Every shift she’d make against his thigh, every shudder as his hand shifted to her mid-back. He wasn’t sure what he was doing to make her react that way, but he’d always been told he had magic hands when it came to massages. “Are you still comfortable?” He asked again, not sure why he was whispering. Bella could hardly be heard as she softly moaned at his touch. Sam felt himself going insane as their eyes met. Her lashes fluttered, his heart could’ve given out at any time.

It only took a second for Sam to realize what was actually going on. Bella moved up, now straddling him to the couch. A mere centimeter away from his lips as she felt her own hesitation. “Bella? C-Can we…” Sam started, but Bella cut him off. Their lips met with sparks under Sam’s skin. His hands drifted to her waist, rubbing slow circles with his thumb as their tongues mingled. One of Bella’s hands moved to his hair, lacing together with gelled, blonde strands. Even lightly brushed against his hair almost made him burst, but whatever Bella was doing to him made him weaker to the touch.

Their kiss broke with Sam panting, holding on tighter with one hand on Bella’s waist. Basically guiding her to grind against the center of his crotch. “Ohhh… Oh god, Bella…” Sam couldn’t help begging for her, what else was he supposed to do with a beautiful woman on his dick? Her hips gyrated, moving forwards and back to tease at his quickly hardening cock.

It’d been too long for Sam. He didn’t fool around as much as he had before Bella came to town, but she was enough to dedicate his life to a monogamous relationship. “Y-You’re so fucking good, holy shit…” He gasped as her hands trailed up his chest. Holding herself firm as she now stopped and held herself up. Moving down, she positioned herself between his legs. Sam propped himself up, sweaty and confused. Watching Bella lay on her stomach with a determined look in her eyes, she understood her intentions as she unbuckled his checkered belt. Her soft hands pulled down blue checkered boxers, taking in everything slowly.

Sam’s ears were burning hot, he threw his head back to avoid her seeing his embarrassment. Bella, on the other hand, slid her hand around his cock with love. Licking her lips with anticipation as she took it all in. Gently kissing the blushing head of his cock, leaking precum and begging for more. Sam writhed under her, missing her lips after every sweet peck down the shaft. He begged, desperate for something that wasn’t a teasing kiss. Bella listened, smiling devilishly as she swept her long black hair behind her.

Bella’s hands firmly stayed on Sam’s hips, making sure he wasn’t bucking too hard. Her mouth wrapped around him warmly, lowering slowly to halfway, then bobbing back up. “S-Shit..” Sam cursed, biting his lip to stop from exclusively swearing. His right hand gripped at the back of the couch, while his left hand trailed to Bella’s head. Softly petting as she moved with intention. Her big eyes looking up as if she wasn’t melting him with each move she made.

“B-Bella slow down, Please-” She bobbed faster, and stopped teasing him. His hand now gripped in her hair, inky black strands lacing between his fingers. “Fuck- Fuck, you’re so good to me, Wh-” Sam’s rambling was cut short by his body near folding from her mouth hitting the base of his cock. Sam wasn’t monstrously lengthy, but he was still slightly longer than average. Aside from the fact that he wasn’t getting very many blowjobs, he’d just assumed deepthroating didn’t exist. Tortuously, she moved her mouth up, with her tongue pressed to the bottom of his shaft. Sam couldn’t keep his mouth closed. A mixture of her name, whimpering, and swears poured out as she worked her head up and down. His head pounded, a whooshing in his ears grew louder.

Without warning her, Sam crumpled under her. Cumming into her mouth, now holding onto her head gently to keep her still. Bella moaned, the vibrations only making him moan out louder as he bottomed out. She pulled herself off as his hands fell, a quiet ‘pop’ broke the humming in his head. As she got up and left towards the kitchen. He’d realized the timer started going off when Sam heard the creaking of her oven door. “Bella?” Sam called out, almost missing her after she left the room. A second later, Bella’s head peeked around the wall of the kitchen. “Do you still want pizza?” She acted like she hadn’t just been on his cock, like she still couldn’t taste him in her throat.

“No, I think I want something else.” He propped himself up, smiling back at her.

#`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · love notes #`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · 18+#`` ~ ୨୧ ♡ · drabbles #sam sdv #stardew valley #sdv #sdv x oc #sam sdv x reader #sam sdv x oc #sdv x reader #stardew valley fanfic #sdv smut

122 notes · View notes

pianokantzart · 2 months

Text

Seeing @keakruiser making AUs in a bullet point storytelling format inspired me to take a crack at my own AU that I've been thinking about for a bit. What would happen if, in The Super Mario Bros. Movie, after Mario and Luigi are separated, Mario was the one who ended up in the clutches of Luigi’s eventual arch nemesis, while Luigi teamed up with some of his own close allies to go rescue him? Essentially The Super Mario Bros Movie, but with the brothers' roles reversed. So, without further ado...

The Super Mario Bros. Redux (Pt. 1)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 ________

The beginning is much the same as it was in the original Super Mario Bros. Movie until they are separated in the warp pipe, with two exceptions: 1. When their van breaks down, Luigi's first instinct is to take the tool kit and try to fix the motor (mechanic Luigi, my beloved). But before he can get a good look, Mario insists that there's not enough time, and heads to the job on foot. Luigi closes the hood of the van and follows him. 2. After Mario leaves the dinner table, the focus goes to Luigi's conversation with his dad rather than Mario holed up in his room.

"What did I say?" "''You're bringing your brother down with you'?" Luigi asks, finally able to get a word in now that his uncles have shut up. "Why would you say that?" "Luigi, be honest. How much did that commercial cost? How many new clients has it gotten you? Huh?" "It's only been a day! And Mario'll figure something out. He always does." Luigi insists, taking his brother's plate of pasta and picking it free of mushrooms. "I just want to help him out along the way."

Pio sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "You can't hide in your brother's shadow your entire life, Luigi. One of these days you're gonna have to man up and start making your own decisions." Luigi doesn't answer, he simply finishes removing the mushrooms from Mario's plate, and gets up from the table to deliver the food to his despondent brother.

After Mario and Luigi attempt to save Brooklyn, after they end up in the warp zone, and after they are ripped from each-other's grasp, Mario is dragged into an unsettling looking pipe surrounded by purple smoke and overgrown with gnarled branches.

Luigi flies onward, emerging from a pipe inside what looks to be another sewer, not too different from the one back in New York. No sooner does he regain his senses does he find himself dragged away by a powerful blast of suction. Flying backwards through the air, he stops suddenly as his back clogs the nozzle of a strange vacuum-like contraption being carried by a little old man.

"Oops! Sorry, Sonny! I thought for certain you were gonna be a ghost!" the old man apologizes, releasing Luigi from the vacuum's suction with a flip of a switch. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small device that loosely resembles a hand-held vidoegame console, reexamining the numbers flashing on the screen. "When my readings showed that pipe 983 had suddenly reactivated, I thought for sure King Boo was trying to use it to send his band of ghosts to Sarasaland!"

Before Luigi could ask one of the thousands of questions on his mind, the old man introduces himself: Professor Elvin Gadd (E. Gadd for short.)

Luigi introduces himself in return, then asks about his brother. He tells the professor about their situation in detail, describing the warp pipe that Mario had disappeared into.

E. Gadd tsks sadly and shakes his head. He explains that particular pipe leads to "Evershade Valley," and though the valley used to be perfectly habitable, ever since King Boo shattered The Dark Moon nobody who has set foot in that land has ever returned.

"Wait, what do you mean? Who's King Boo?" Luigi asks "Well! You truly are out of the loop!" E-Gadd chuckles, "Then again... I remember how little I knew when I first arrived in this world." He continues to talk while leading Luigi through the underground, casually clearing a path for them with the powerful blowing and sucking functions of the vacuum. "King Boo is nothing less than the lord of ghosts! He is the master of illusions, the reigning tyrant of the undead, the loather of all living flesh, and– at the moment– the sole ruler of Evershade Valley."

This description unsettles Luigi. He retorts that if that's the case, he has to get to Evershade Valley as soon as possible. As frightened as he is, he's never been so frightened that he couldn't help his brother out of a tough spot, and he knows Mario would do the same for him in a heartbeat.

"Well! In that case I suggest you stick with me for a bit. And keep those tools with you." The old scientist gestures toward the tool bag Luigi had dropped on the ground in the mayhem, "I may have a few uses for them."

Just as Luigi comes to the question of where they are currently, Professor E. Gadd opens a sewer cover and leads him out into the middle of a big bustling coastal city in Sarasaland. Think the Daisy Circuit from Mario Kart, but way larger and more crowded (and missing the romantic statue of course.)

Luigi struggles to keep up with the elderly scientist, who weaves his way effortlessly through throngs of turtle men, snake monsters, insect soldiers, giant sentient heads made out of stone, and a vast array of other strange and fascinating pedestrians.

"Stop your dilly-dallying, youngster!" E. Gadd eventually calls, getting fed up with Luigi's slow, bewildered pace, "I've got a meeting in The Birabuto Kingdom, and my train– our train– leaves in fifteen minutes!" "Birabuto Kingdom?" Luigi asks, allowing himself to be shoved along, "What's that? What about Evershade Valley?" "So impatient! Do you think I'd send you into such a place unprepared??? No no, first I'm going to perfect my equipment, then I'll help you find your brother."

E. Gadd purchases their tickets and they board the crowded 64 Express. Once seated, Luigi's eyes are immediately drawn toward the window. He stares out, deep in anxious thought as the train chugs along, traveling from the coastal city into a desert landscape.

Then, we switch over to Mario. Standing up and dusting himself off, he looks around to find himself in the gloomiest place he'd ever seen... for the little he is able to see. There is a thick purple mist hanging in the air, and the path before him is shrouded in the branches of a forest long dead.

Loudly calling out his brother's name on the off-chance he was somewhere nearby, Mario follows a light in the distance until he stumbles across a lone boo. More confused than frightened, and feeling a little sorry for the white specter shyly covering its face, Mario bends down for a moment to examine it, assuring "hey, don't worry! I won't hurt you, I'm just a little lost is all."

Suddenly, he is ambushed by a colorful trio of ghosts: a greenie, a slammer, and a hider. He tries to fight back, but every time he attempts to shove them off or swing his fists he phases right through them.

His attackers knock him around a bit until Mario succeeds in slipping away. Now in a panic, he continues rushing toward the distant light, far faster and more recklessly than before.

Eventually, he gets close enough to discover the glow was coming from the lit windows of an old mansion. He enters and – for the little good it will do – shuts the door behind him.

He wanders the halls for a long time, roaming from room to empty room, all the while haunted by the shadow of something following him. Something big.

At last, he reaches a towering portrait room. Unlike the rest of the mansion it is teeming with life, full of frightened faces pressed against picture frames, begging for help.

Mario is frozen in a moment of fear and confusion, but quickly snaps out of it. He rushes to the nearest portrait– an image of a strange little mushroom man– to ask what is wrong and what he can do.

Before the toad can give a coherent answer, the eerie presence that Mario had felt when he first entered the mansion casts a looming shadow over him.

He turns around and raises his fists in helpless hopes of defending himself. The candles of the surrounding sconces go out all at once, and in the pitch black darkness a cacophony of cackles fills the air....

#just silliness don't mind me #Super Mario Bros Movie #Mario AU #Luigi #Super Mario Brothers #Mario Movie #long post #The Super Mario Bros. Redux #super mario bros redux au

120 notes · View notes

deathbecomesthem · 5 months

Text

Roomies 5.5

Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader

Eddie's POV from the end of Chapter 5 - a little sick day drabble | 1k

---

“What was that about?” Eddie can barely register Ronnie’s question through the blood whooshing in his ears. He’s watching you stumble out of the bar, and trying to understand what just happened. Ronnie snaps her fingers in front of his face and says, “Hey! What the fuck was that about?”

“I have no idea.” Eddie says, a sort of half truth that feels whole. Because he hasn’t been able to put to words what’s been going on, and now, with a belly full of liquor and a head full of fuzz, is not going to be the time. “I should go after her.”

“Oh, that seems like a poor plan,” Laney sets down 2 shots in front of Eddie and Ronnie, and keeps one behind the bar for herself. “It’s better to let it go and face whatever’s going on when you’re all clear headed. In the meantime, she’ll be fine.”

Eddie tilts his head, he considers ignoring Laney’s advice for a second. And then Ronnie says, “She’s right, Eddie. Whatever’s going on can wait until you’re both sober minded and I’m not in the crossfire. I swear to god, I don’t want any part of it.”

Eddie runs his fingers across his temple, hard enough to leave a red streak, and then turns back to face the two remaining people in the quiet bar. He lifts the shot glass in the air, and knocks back what he's surprised to find is tequila. Smooth. Patron, probably. He points his finger to the shot glass now sitting atop the counter again, and Laney grabs the bottle to pour out one more shot.

“And that’s the last shot of the night,” Laney puts the bottle back up on the shelf above her head. “About closing time,” she leans over the bar far enough that her feet leave the sticky tile of the floor behind the counter to give Eddie a kiss on the cheek, “it’ll all look better in the morning.”

Eddie’s mind floats through the bar while his legs carry his body. It’s not the booze, it’s the realization that maybe he’s ruined a good thing before it’s even happened. And he doesn’t know how. It’s the squeeze of Ronnie’s hand on his forearm that brings him back.

“Let’s go for a walk down by the river. Look, Ed - the moon’s out tonight.” Eddie looks up at her urging to see the bright spotlight shining down on his face. He thinks that’s a good plan. Head down to the dirt path where he can hear the cold water move away from the city and see that spotlight shine out along the ripples. With Ronnie, his Ronnie, with her arm wrapped around his waist. Like the old times.

“I’m lost without you.” Eddie says to her as his foot stumbles on an uneven seam in the sidewalk.

“I know you are.”

—

On that walk, Eddie decides he’s been doing everything all wrong. He decides to turn his attention where it matters right now, and that’s on this special friend he only sees once a year when he’s lucky. 2 days, that’s what he’s getting this time, and he’s going to make the most of it.

When they finally make it back to the apartment, their cheeks are cold from the stinging early winter air. It’s a relief to be in the warmth of the small space, but they both feel a looming dread. Eddie’s head is more clear now, and while they talked about the stupid shit they did as teenagers on that nightwalk, he also came up with a plan.

“You’re sleeping in my room tonight. I’ll take the couch. Don’t worry, the sheets are clean.” Eddie’s pulling Ronnie’s jacket off her back and hanging it on the hook next to his and yours. “I wanna talk to her tonight, just for a few minutes.”

“Eddie, I don’t -” Ronnie’s protest is cut off immediately by Eddie raising a ringed hand.

“I know what I’m doing. I promise, it’ll be fine.” His words seem to be enough. They hug each other for a long beat before Ronnie walks towards the hallway. When she reaches the first door, she points to it in question, and Eddie nods.

“Good night!” Ronnie whispers in Eddie’s direction with a smile on her face before she tiptoes through his room to climb into his bed.

Eddie is sure footed on his short journey to your room, not a single butterfly flaps its wings in his stomach until he reaches the edge of your bed. He looks down at your sleeping frame, mascara smudged under your eyes and hair a jumble on your pillow, and he can’t bring himself to wake you. He thought maybe you’d still be awake and upset, but is glad to see you resting. Maybe you’ll forget all this, and wake up with a little hangover and no worse for the wear. He knows that’s a pipe dream. He sets a tall glass of water on your side table along with the bottle of aspirin, and climbs into the bed next to you. He’ll talk to you in the morning.

It’s with the briefest of hesitations that he wraps an arm around your waist. Is it a violation if he’s doing it while you sleep? Maybe, maybe not. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. He needs to feel your weight next to him, and touch you in some way. He needs to know that you’re here, and he needs to know it in a tangible way. Know that his eyes aren’t deceiving him.

@kissmyacdc

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic

161 notes · View notes

lost-in-lamentation · 6 months

Text

💋🥐 - first kiss, baking.

barbatos × gen!reader. fluff + slightly suggestive.

warnings: barbatos gets... real flirty.

content: when your face gets dirty while baking, how else would you clean it up if not a kiss?

back to the 500 follower event: here.

“now, we wait for the butter to melt. once it’s melted, we’ll pour the flour in.”

“got it.” you peer over barbatos’ shoulder curiously, observing as he stirs the mixture in the pot. “what are you making this for, anyway?”

barbatos steps away from the stove, reaching for the bowl of dry ingredients on the kitchen island. “the young master requested cream puffs,” he replies. as you hum in understanding, barbatos looks from side to side, lips pursed together in confusion. “you didn’t happen to see where i left my thermometer, did you?”

after making sure that the pot isn’t dangerously close to boiling, you join barbatos in the search, taking the other side of the kitchen. finally, you see it sticking out of the pile of cutlery that you had set aside earlier. “my bad, i think i hid it from you by accident,” you say sheepishly. with careful fingers, you fish it out of the pile, making sure it still turns on before handing it over to him.

barbatos gives you a look; one you can’t quite read. “how naughty of you,” he teases, turning back to the stove. behind him, you cover the lower half of your face with a hand, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks. “the butter is just about melted. MC, would you like to pour the flour in? or would you like to try mixing the dough?”

pretending that his earlier remark doesn’t faze you, you roll your sleeves up determinedly. “i can mix it!” barbatos casts you an approving gaze, watching as you stride over to him. “is that all i have to do?”

“yes, but i should warn you that choux pastry becomes very stubborn once it thickens.”

you shrug nonchalantly at the demon, grabbing a wooden spoon off the counter. “i think i’ve got this.”

“very well.” he nods at you, waiting until you’re ready to start pouring the dry ingredients in.

at first, you stir easily, everything coming together in one smooth motion. however, the stubbornness makes itself known rather quickly, soon forming into a heavy ball that you begin to struggle against. you do your best to scrape against the sides and the bottom of the pot, intent on not allowing any of the dough to burn. but the longer you mix, the more tired your arm becomes, and eventually, you’re shooting barbatos a pleading look. “please tell me this is enough mixing,” you nearly whine, movements slowing as your muscles begin to ache.

barbatos’ shoulders bounce lightly with laughter. “not quite, but allow me to do the rest.” suddenly, he steps behind you, torso pressed against your back. gently, he takes the wooden spoon out of your grasp, your fingers brushing against his own gloved ones briefly. despite it not being skin to skin, the touch is enough to send a jolt through your system. you immediately drop your gaze to the floor, hoping barbatos is too occupied to notice. you don’t know long you stay there for, but you’re pulled back to reality when you hear him speak softly. “we have to wait for this to cool before we do the next step.”

“oh, yeah, okay.” your voice wavers, and you grimace at the sound. “which is, what, exactly?”

finally, barbatos opens a path away from you, and you quietly breathe a sigh of relief.

“we’ll add the eggs in. we have to wait until it’s just around 70°C.” he sticks his thermometer into the dough, watching as the numbers shoot up past 80. “where do you have the eggs you beat earlier?”

with your brain close to haywire, you grab the bowl of eggs wordlessly, handing it over to him. you know by now that barbatos has noticed how flustered you’ve become, but you steel yourself anyway, clearing your throat as you place the bowl down on the counter next to him. “i have it here,” you strangle out.

barbatos murmurs his thanks while he transfers the dough from the pot into a mixing bowl. you fall into silence as you watch him turn the electric mixer on, stirring the dough to allow more heat to escape. every so often, he stops to check the temperature, all the way until he sees the number 70 on the reader. when it does, he stops the mixer periodically to add a bit of the egg mixture each time. you observe him quietly, rocking back and forth on your heels while he works. eventually, you’re the first to break the silence. “how do you know when that’s enough eggs?”

barbatos has a lopsided grimace on his face, eyebrows furrowed in thought before getting around to answering you. “personally… it’s a gut feeling.”

your mouth drops open at his answer. “how about professionally?”

“... i am not a professional baker.”

“i can’t believe this.” you chortle at his expression, entertained that barbatos has no set answer for you. despite your laughter, barbatos continues his work, a bit entertained himself that you think the situation is so funny. you leave him alone after that, leaning onto the counter with your elbows. you’ve never made this kind of pastry before, so you leave it to barbatos to do the delicate work and wait for him to ask you to join in again.

“this should be the right amount,” barbatos says to you. he tilts the bowl towards you so you can see it, but you can’t even tell the difference between now and two minutes ago.

“if we ever make this again, i’m counting on you,” you respond in a deflated tone.

barbatos chuckles at the remark. “you can count on me for anything you need, MC. even if it's for something other than baking.”

"oh-! uh, yeah, thanks." for the third time in one hour, your face flushes red, and you’re turning away before the butler can comment on it. “anyways! you need the piping bag now, right?”

“yes, if you could, MC.” you rush away from him, scrambling to slide the correct piping tip into the bag before hooking the bag around the edges of a small bucket. once it was ready (and your blush had faded), you head back to barbatos, waiting until he takes it from your hands to make a second piping bag. with measured movements, he pours enough of the pastry into the first bag that it fills up, but doesn’t overflow. barbatos then pulls the bag out of the bucket, twisting the open end so that it doesn’t come back out towards you when you take it from him. he repeats the process with the second bag, this time keeping it in his own hands while he grabs two baking trays from nearby. the demon places one in front of you and the other in front of himself. with a satisfied nod, he shifts to look at you, making sure you’re holding the piping bag properly before beginning his demonstration. he places a round dollop of the pastry onto the sheet, tapering it off with a circular motion.

the piped pastry reminds you briefly of whipped cream. “it looks cute.”

“i suppose it does,” barbatos muses, leaning down to look at his creation from another angle. “it’s your turn to give it a try.”

you nod resolutely, adjusting your hands to a more comfortable position before attempting to recreate what barbatos had shown you. however, he makes it look easier than it really is. by the time you’ve put five on the baking tray, you notice how none of them are as well rounded as barbatos’. you wince at the sight, but decide to press on anyway since he hadn’t said anything about your strange shapes. but when you try to squeeze another one out, the bag stops cooperating, instead causing you to press harder on the pastry. “barbatos, i think something got stuck.” before he can say anything, you turn the piping tip end towards yourself to look in it, but make the mistake of squeezing the bag at the same time. the pastry explodes onto your face with a splutter, and all you can register is barbatos calling your name out of concern.

you can hear barbatos gasp loudly before he places his own piping bag down. “in the name of diavolo… MC? are you alright?”

“fine. yep. just fine,” you mutter. your eyes are shut tight, not wanting to get any of the mixture into your eyes. “do you have a towel or anything?”

suddenly, his voice is right next to your ear. “stay still for me,” he whispers, sending a shudder down your spine. barbatos takes the exploded bag out of your hands, and a few seconds later, you feel a towel gently wiping away the pastry that had landed on your face. once the area around your eyes is clean, you blink your vision back to normal, only to wish that you had kept your eyes shut. barbatos hovers dangerously close to you, one hand on your chin and the other holding a new towel. “are you really alright? your face is quite red-”

“i-i’m okay!” you take a step back, but barbatos has you locked in his grasp. your heart pounds in your chest like it wants to be anywhere else but inside your body. meanwhile in your mind, your thoughts race endlessly, and you can barely keep your gaze from darting every which way. “barbatos, i-”

“MC, you have some more here.” you stiffen when he brushes his thumb over the corner of your lips- wait, when did he take his gloves off? and your breath catches in your throat when barbatos leans impossibly closer to you. you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin onto yours, but something in you tells you not to pull away. “may i?”

you gather your courage and make eye contact with barbatos, searching his gaze, finding nothing but affection before finally whispering “yes.”

even with your permission, barbatos treads carefully first. his lips touch where his fingers were just moments before, swiftly cleaning the pastry from your face himself. as he pulls away, you feel his tongue swipe at your lips, and your knees nearly give out at the feeling. barbatos’ hand moves from your chin down to your waist, holding you up while he presses you flush against himself. he scans your expression thoroughly, and when you blink slowly up at him, he plays his next move. barbatos brings you in closer to meet him in the middle, melding into the kiss as though you had down it a thousand times before. unlike barbatos’ usual demeanour, the kiss is sloppy; it's a little bit messy and mixed with traces of the earlier pastry explosion. but nonetheless, you find yourself drowning in his touch, his actions driven by hunger for you. when you separate, you can barely recognize barbatos’ voice as he moans at the loss of your lips on his.

you’re dizzy with desire, and so is barbatos. but you hold back long enough to tilt your head at the forgotten baking trays. “shouldn’t we finish our original task?” you ask between breaths, but you can’t help bringing yourself closer to him again.

“the young master can wait,” barbatos practically growls, leaning in to nip at your earlobe. “i would like a treat for myself, first.”

a/n: this isn't a personally inspired story from when i worked under a pâtissière... what are you talking about, i would never explode a piping bag on myself haha you're being crazy!

reblogs are really appreciated (´ω｀) ♡

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me barbatos #obey me barbatos x reader #obey me barbatos x you #obey me x you #obey me fluff #aris writes 🐈‍⬛#aris hits 500 🐈‍⬛

264 notes · View notes

oh-koenig-my-koenig · 6 months

Text

Fit for a King - WIP - “Sit” (Dual POV)

Fit for a King - Masterlist

a/n: this got kinda long, progressing their relationship

(nsfw, almost pure smut, some secrecy, overstimulation)

Everybody's getting on the truck after we stow away all the stuff in the other one. I'm the last one to jump in and 9 pairs of eyes are looking at me (the rest of their faces are covered by the masks) as I'm left standing. "Are you kidding me?"

Nikto is the first one to chime in. "I don't think they factored in the median size of a KorTac operator when saying that these trucks can carry 10." Some of them chuckle. "And I'm supposed to stand now?", I ask them, pulling up an eyebrow. There's a little scuffle as they rearrange when the man right next to me catches my wrist and says: "Sit."

The scuffling stops as the remaining 8 pairs of eyes land on the one offering me his lap to sit on. Even sitting down he's almost at my eye level. Aksel clears his throat and says: "We made some space on the bench." Between him and Nikto was now a hand’s breath of bench unoccupied. It isn't even enough space to fit a small child.

König scoffs and pulls me into him, so I land on his thigh. "Gonna talk to Horangi.", he says, so everybody hears it. "It's unacceptable not to have enough room for every operator." I put my hands on my own lap as he stabilizes my back with his hand, for the others not to see.

Nobody says anything else and I just try to ignore the situation. And how it makes me feel. How he makes me feel.

Last night when I was this close to him, two of his fingers were inside me and I was seeing stars. Now I can feel his thigh against the very same parts and I will my thoughts to steer away from the path they're heading down now. (Also ignoring the fact that he stole my fucking panties.)

______________________________________________________________

She's sitting on my lap.

She. Is. Sitting. On. My. Lap. Again.

The options were limited. I wasn't gonna let her sit between Aksel and Nikto, those asswipes. The gaze I shot them when they offered her the small spot between them to squeeze herself into, lesser men would've cried. I saw the reactions on their faces and I realized: I need to calm down. I gotta pump the breaks. Like the truck is doing right now and her ass gets pressed into me, onto my thigh. I grit my teeth as I feel the plump curve of her booty against me.

I said I wasn't gonna do anything, that we couldn't do anything. Then I had to go and finger her yesterday because I thought, oh, it's only for her pleasure, to give her comfort, make her feel a bit better. And then I had to taste her because I couldn't help myself. And then I wanked myself to sleep with the same hand that has been inside her.

Jetzt haben wir den Salat1.

And now what. Now she's sitting on my thigh, looking like a personified angel in tactical gear, even with the mask on. Her faint scent makes me want to eat her up, throw her down on the floor, tear her clothes off and fuck her, right here and now. Give the others something to really turn their eyes away from. I can feel my blood starting to boil as I look around the truck, every one of my mates looking away as soon as I meet their gaze on us. I'm getting annoyed and we still have some way to go.

Suddenly I feel a hand on my knee and another pair of eyes on me. I meet her eyes as she leans down a bit whispering: "Everything okay?" I can't form any words that's why I only nod. She hesitates for a few moments but accepts my short answer and looks to the front again. Her hand stays on my knee though, softly stroking ever so often, until I feel how it calms me down having her touch me. Herrgott2, I'm so fucking touch starved.

_____________________________________________________________

I'm in my room reading the dossiers for the next mission. My head is already swimming from all the information and I'm already tired. When we got home from the mission and I could finally hop off König's lap (Schoß, that's what they call it in german), everybody scrammed in an instant, something better to do than to linger around.

I went for a shower, worked out and then I went to the shooting range, to drop some more dummies. When I was content with the shots, I got back to the room. The two operators with whom I share it are still out on another mission. And now I'm studying the dossiers. And I catch my thoughts steering towards König again. I even thought about looking into my old stuff from school when I learned german. More than about german vocabulary I thought about the last few days and how it confused the shit out of me, the way he is behaving with me.

On cue or talk about the devil if you will, he comes into the room without even knocking. I turn around on my chair to look at him while he closes the door and just stands there for a moment.

His tall figure dwarfs the small room, the tactical gear is gone and he's wearing a simple black sweatpants and t-shirt. The helmet is gone, but the hood is still on. Yesterday I only saw his hands, today I can see that there are tattoos on both his forearms. Mostly black and grey shapes, I can't make out what they are in this lighting.

"What are you doing here?", I ask him which seems to pull him from his frozen state. With three quick strides he's right in front me and drops to his knees. "I need another taste of you.", he says looking me into my eyes and the lust burning in them makes it unmistakable how he means that.

"I-" His brazen offer has me at a loss for words and when I don't finish the sentence, his hand trails up my thigh. "Please, it's been driving me crazy all day, I need to feel you on my lips." My chin is making its way to the floor as I look at the man in his hood, who had been domineering before, comforting yet unapologetic yesterday, and now is begging me on his knees. "Are you begging me to let you eat me out?", I ask him for clarification. He nods. "Yes." – "Okay.", I say and he doesn't need more than that. His hands are pulling at my pants and I help to get them of, reminded of what we did not that many hours ago. He drops the pants on the floor and doesn't waste any seconds to get to my panties. They're gone and I can anticipate the moment when he finally looks at me. His eyes are glued to the spot between my legs as I open them and drop my knees to the side. I see his brows furrow and his gaze flicks up. "Don't say anything.", I tell him. I shaved when I was under shower after coming home. A little treacherous sign. Of expecting to maybe or maybe not get laid. At least that's one possible interpretation.

I can't see the full expression on his face, but just his eyes speak volumes. He doesn't say anything, just chuckles and then his fingers grip my thighs and his head dives down between my legs. There is no hesitation, no teasing, no soft lead into it. He doesn't waste a single moment and eats me out like he was starving before.

It's his mouth on me, his lips pressing against me, his tongue pushing inside me and circling my clit. My hips buck up when he does this for the first time and all I get is a soft grunt and his hands gripping my thighs even tighter, so I can't escape a single one of his touches. It's everything all at once and I'm losing my mind fast. Soft whines and moans escape my throat and as he sucks on my clit for the first time, I come. Holy shit.

"Again.", he growls, not stopping any of the movements as I still feel the waves of pleasure crash over me, and my sounds get louder and louder. Before I can even register what he's doing, he pushes a piece of fabric between my lips. My panties! "Sssh, Prinzessin3, we don't want the others to hear.", he says, his voice hoarse, his mouth not really leaving my pussy, so the huffs of breath are tickling me as he speaks.

The moans and mewls are muffled by the fabric now, but it doesn't make the sound in this room less erotic. König's kisses, the hungry licks and laps, my muffled cries, the way it sounds when his knees shuffle over the floor as he tries to get even closer. I look down at him and the sight in front of me paired with his restless licking almost makes me come again. His head is framed between my naked thighs, his hood is spilling over my stomach, obscuring the view on what he's doing, his big hands are gripping the curve of my ass moving my hips to his rhythm. Suddenly he looks up and meets my gaze as I feel his tongue dipping into my wetness again and again. I can only feel and imagine what it must look like when his tongue dips down into me. And then he fucking winks at me. I come on his tongue hard, harder than the first time, and if it hadn't been for his arms holding me up, I would have toppled off the chair.

By now I'm also glad that he stuffed my mouth with the panties because of the sounds I'm making. Someone walking by would've surely heard me. Hot tears are running down my face as I whine about how it is too much. "Please, Liebes4, only one more, I wanna be soaked in your juices.", he tells me as one of his hands finds my pussy and one of his fingers sinks into me. He chuckles, the soft sound sending shivers down my spine. "Mmh, so wet again.", he recalls his comment from when he first pushed his fingers into me.

I’m so overstimulated already, but he is not letting up. Stretching me with an added digit, finding a rhythm with his mouth and his fingers that is driving me crazy. His fingers curl inside me, pressing into the most sensitive spot inside me with every move of his hand. His tongue is mercilessly licking over my clit, the pressure being too much and not enough at the same time.

And he is right. I’m so wet, I can feel it on my inner thighs. His fingers in my pussy, his grunts and moans, the flick of his tongue, my muffled cries fill the room once again and as I see stars form in front of my eyes, the almost porny background noises keep stoking my arousal. My hips move restlessly, searching for the friction that finally sends me over edge again. I think I almost pass out, screaming incoherent ramblings into my panties, and I’m sure I’m dropping his name somewhere during my sensual high. Good thing that that is damped by fabric in my mouth, because saying his name while I actually came, out loud and clear… that would have made it all too real. Closer than it already was.

I’m shaking from all the overstimulation and orgasms as he finally lets go of me and I slump down on the chair again. He gets up, just standing there, towering over me, looking down at me. I can’t say anything, just breathe to regain some kind of composure again. He leans down a bit, sending another violent shake over me in anticipation, but he only pulls my panties from my mouth and the relief on my jaw makes me sigh.

The sight of him is sinful, godly and perverted at the same time. His muscles are taut, no doubt he's as turned on as I am. His boner is tenting the sweatpants, the outline clear against the fabric even in the dim light. His hood is stained from my arousal, wet patches from the eyes down. His chest is heaving as he takes in big breaths. His hands are formed into fists, the knuckles white like he needs to restrain himself.

It would be an easy thing to reach for his pants, free his dick and I'm almost a 100% sure he would fuck me. But the same thought that seemingly has him just standing there, looking at me, also halts me, his words “We can’t do that” in the back of my head. Without another word he turns around and leaves. The door falls shut and I’m spent and alone again. Only when I get dressed again, I realise that my panties are missing. Again. God damn it, König.

_____________________________________________________________

Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Verdammt. Ah, des is ja wieder super gelaufen5. I tell myself sarcastically in my head as I basically run down the hallway. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking! At least not with my brain. I can feel the weight of my boner between my legs with every step, and my balls are aching because they're so fucking blue. It almost physically hurts.

The way she was looking up at me, sitting on the lousy chair, her chest moving up and down, making her titties bounce just the slightest bit, her nipples hard against the fabric of her shirt. Her knees dropped to the side, her legs spread open, her pussy wet and ready for my cock. The wetness on her thighs glistening in the low light. The mental picture is clear in my mind, like if I still had her right in front of me.

I wanna be between her legs again. Her thighs hugging my face, my mouth pressed to her lips, my nose nudging against her clit with every eager lick. Fuck, I can still smell her. The way she tastes, smells, moves when she comes on my tongue is engrained in my brain now. After licking her taste off my fingers, it was hard not to think about her; now it's downright impossible.

I groan and the echo being thrown back at me and reminds me that I’m currently making my way down a very public hallway, sporting the hard-on of the century. Great. I take the next door right, heading to my quarters, when I almost run into someone. I curse under my breath. But it’s only Horangi. He wants to greet me, when he sees my state and just bursts into laughter. “Don’t. Fucking. Say. Anything. If you want to live to see tomorrow.”, I say between clenched teeth. Half-joking because the Korean is probably one of the few people who could actually take me. “My guy, what happened to you?”, he asks with a broad grin on his face. “Don’t fucking ask.”, I bark at him. He’s narrowing his eyes as he inspects my hood. ”What are those stains on your hood?” I freeze for a second, then I pull the hood down. Horangi is one of the few people who know how I look underneath. I groan as I see the wet patches on the fabric, they’re from… her. “Himmel, Herrgott nochmal6. Fucking hell.”, I curse in two languages as I try to push past Horangi. I see him shaking his head in the corner of my eyes as I pass him and I hear him saying something in Korean. I practically sprint to my room, shutting the door behind me with a bang and sliding down to the floor (which is a long way to go for a guy like me).

My hand dives down into my sweatpants, gripping my dick, freeing it, groaning when my fingers close around it and I just imagine that it is her touching me. My other hand lets go off my hood and pulls her panties from my pocket that are soaked in her spit. I wrap them around my base and move them along my length as I start to jerk myself off. I just need the release. Or else I’m gonna go back and take her. The pictures start to form in my mind all on their own. How it’s not my own hand that’s jerking me off, but hers. How she would kneel in front of me, taking me in her mouth, and I’d come all over her face. How I would pick her up and fuck her against the wall, burying myself deep inside her. How she would ride me, with me pulling her down on my dick. My own personal imagination porn only stops when I come all over my hands and her panties, staining my sweatpants and leaving little puddles of cum on my stomach. I sigh and curse again. I do a haphazard job at cleaning myself up, take my clothes off and just drop onto my bed, letting the post orgasm haze take me out.

Jetzt haben wir den Salat: literally 'Now we have the salad', a german way of saying: 'look at the mess we're in'

Herrgott: 'dear god'

Prinzessin: 'princess'

Liebes: 'lovely'

Verdammt. Ah, des is ja wieder super gelaufen.: 'Damn, that went well... NOT.'

Himmel, Herrgott nochmal.: 'for heaven's sake'

#könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig x fmc #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #dual pov

131 notes · View notes

7-wonders · 2 years

Text

Hopes, Dreams, and Everything In Between (Morpheus x Reader)

Summary: Just when Morpheus finally escapes capture at the hands of the Burgess lineage and begins to make his way back to his realm, his weak connection to his power disappears completely. Left stranded in a world with no knowledge of what has transpired for over a century, no powers, and no clothes, Dream of the Endless must let down his guard and place his trust in a human whose path he was quite literally dropped in the middle of.

Word count: 10.7k

A/N: So! Here we are, with what is arguably the longest oneshot I've ever written. @glitchmeharder had left a comment on a post I made, pointing out that they wanted more fics of Morpheus getting stuck in the Waking World and needing to live with Reader for a little bit.

My mind took this sentence and RAN with it. Like, I apologize in advance for how long this is. I'm pretty pleased with it though, especially for my first Morpheus fic. I hope you're pleased with it too.

(Also, the POV jumps back and forth between Morpheus and Reader, but it alternates every other section and is pretty clear which POV is which)

(Also-also I've been staring at this fic for so long now I don't even know if it makes sense anymore)

Let me know your thoughts! Likes are appreciated, comments, asks, and reblogs make my world go round! My inbox is always open for you guys :)

*This fic uses she/her pronouns and includes the use of Y/n*

Freedom.

After being held captive for 106 long, painful years, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares, is on the precipice of securing his freedom. The younger Burgess’s lover had erased a small part of the runes encircling his glass cage with the wheel of the old man’s wheelchair, sending little more than a sorrowful glance back towards the prisoner. So this was how he would attempt to secure his safety, by breaking the circle of runes surrounding him. Barely a scuff, really, but it’s enough.

It’s enough for Morpheus to feel the faintest bit of his power return to him.

It’s enough that it’s all too easy for him to influence one of the security guards, waxing poetically about his upcoming beach vacation, to close his eyes for just a moment.

It’s enough for a dream to form, one of sun and sea and sand. Sand that Morpheus is able to gather a handful of, right in front of the horrified guard’s dreaming eyes.

The guard, lost in his dream nightmare, shoots at what he thinks is Morpheus. In the Waking World, he’s shooting at the orb that he’s meant to be diligently watching. A bullet hits, and a crack forms. Another, and another, and another, even as the other guard screams at her colleague to stop.

The glass explodes, and Morpheus fills his lungs with his first huff of fresh air in over a century. He can’t get lost in the joy that threatens to burst like a dam at finally seeing and feeling freedom. Not when he has a job to do, not when he has a kingdom to return home to.

He steps past the broken runes, now useless at keeping him trapped, and towards the two that are commanding him to stop where he is. He does as they ask, standing still in front of them. When the female orders him to open his closed fist, he is nice enough to listen to that command as well, lifting it to his mouth and blowing the sand in their faces.

A portal forms above him, and all Morpheus can think of is home. The Dreaming. He can feel it calling to him, a kingdom beckoning its ruler back. His power lifts him, and Morpheus welcomes the sensation of traveling through realms.

Then, just as quickly as he had his power, he loses it again.

Like a spelunker who’s just had their trusty rope give out on them, Dream finds himself free-falling with no way of stopping or controlling where he’s going. He tries desperately to clutch onto the tendrils of power that have abandoned him, but they refuse to obey.

He lands harshly on cold pavement, weak and disoriented with no idea of where he is. There’s a flash of blinding lights, the sound of rubber squealing, and then…

Darkness.

•••

It’s late at night, late enough that the few traffic lights that you pass are continuously blinking red and yellow. You hadn’t intended to be out so late, but catching up with friends at a restaurant had led to all of you losing track of time, talking and laughing and reminiscing until a manager politely informed your table that the restaurant had closed ten minutes prior.

Large tips had been left as apologies and your group hustled out of the door, leaving one another with hugs and goodbyes and promises to do this again, sooner than the months it had taken to get together in the first place. You got into your car, locking the doors immediately after, and you were happy.

Still, as you watched those you know and cherish depart with their significant others, you can’t help the pang of melancholy that taints an otherwise-wonderful evening. You’re at the age now where everybody that you know is in relationships, getting engaged and married and settling down and coupling up. You, however…are not. And you’re happy with being single, truly; the best company you can have is yourself. But knowing that you’re going to return home to your quiet apartment, where you’ll go to sleep in your empty bed and wake up to eat breakfast alone before repeating the monotonous cycle that is working a full time job and being an adult in general is making you just a little bitter.

You dwell on this as you drive the deserted roads home, even though you shouldn’t be. Shaking your head at your tendency to mope, you decide to do something about it and turn your radio up with the hopes that something good is playing on the random playlist that had begun when your phone automatically connected to the car’s sound system. Hell, maybe even something bad. Anything to get you out of this thought pattern that is quickly attempting to derail your mood.

“Now here I go again, I see the crystal vision

I keep my visions to myself

But it's only me who wants to wrap around your dreams, and

Have you any dreams you'd like to sell, dreams of loneliness?”

Ironic, considering you were just lamenting your own loneliness, but you’ll forgive Stevie Nicks for almost anything, so you let it slide. Tapping your thumbs on the steering wheel, you hum along to the song and stare out at the empty, rainy landscape ahead.

Empty, until it’s suddenly not.

You don’t look away from the road, you know that you don’t. But in the literal blink of an eye, a white figure appears right in front of your car. Slamming on the brakes with a scream, you watch as the figure collapses ahead of you. You don’t hit whatever it is, thankfully, and after lurching to a harsh stop, you peer through the windshield at what your headlights illuminate.

It’s a person, or at least you think it is. They’re pale, paler than any person you’ve seen before. They’re also stark naked, which, for a number of reasons, can’t be comfortable. Should you get out and help?

You bite your lip as you consider this, stories of human trafficking ploys and hitchhiking serial killers appearing at the forefront of your mind. It’s dangerous, and probably stupid, but something in you knows that this isn’t a scheme to kidnap you. Your eyes were on the road the entire time, and this being was literally dropped down right in front of your car. Grabbing your phone, throwing your hazards on, and unhooking the pepper spray from your keys, you cautiously open your car door and walk to the front of your car.

“Are you okay?” you ask, looking down at the man.

He’s laying on his side, his face tucked into the crook of his arm. A mop of unruly, jet-black hair covers any other facial features that might have made him distinguishable to you.

He doesn’t answer, and you swallow harshly. Oh God, is he dead? You thought you didn’t hit him, and your car doesn’t have any damage, but maybe you did.

Crouching down next to him, you take note of just how skinny he is when you lay a hand on his wrist to check his pulse (which is thankfully thrumming steadily beneath his near-translucent skin). No, not skinny. The man in front of you looks emaciated. What happened to him?, you wonder as you move your hand to his bony shoulder and begin to shake him.

“Hey, can you hear me?”

This time, a muffled groan answers you. Okay, that’s better than before. At least he’s semi-conscious. Still, he doesn’t look well at all, and you should probably get him to a hospital to be checked out. When you voice this thought, you finally elicit a reaction from him. Long, ice-cold fingers grip your wrist weakly, and you stare at him in shock as he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What?” You lean down next to his covered face, trying to hear what he’s saying.

“No…” he mutters. “Please…no…hospital.”

He’s delirious, that much is obvious. Still, you find yourself mulling over his request. He really does need some sort of medical attention, but he managed to muster up enough strength to specifically tell you that he didn’t want to go to a hospital. As you think about it, you also start to come around to the “no hospital” idea.

After all, what are you going to do? Show up at the hospital and dump a naked, starving man on their doorstep while claiming that you have no idea how he got like this? At best, the authorities would probably be called and you’d be questioned for kidnapping. No, it’s probably for the best to keep away from the hospital.

Logically, you know that you’re so stupid for even considering the idea that you’ve had. But really, what is this man going to be able to do to you? Even if he weren’t in and out of consciousness, he’s so frail that you could easily take him down were he to try and attack you. Against your better judgment, you decide what you’re going to do.

“I’ll be right back,” you assure the man, who you’re not even sure can hear you, before you stand up. “I think I have a blanket in the trunk of my car.”

A quick search through your mess of a trunk does reveal a blanket, hauled around at the insistence of your mother who preached needing an “emergency kit” in your car at all times. Now, you silently thank her as you grab it and hurry back to the man, though you definitely will not mention to her what the emergency kit was finally used for.

You haul him to a sitting position, his head falling back limply as you fix the blanket over his shoulders. “Do you think you can stand? I’ll get you to the car, I just need to get you on your feet.”

He makes a slight movement that looks like a nod, so you move his arm around your shoulder and wait until you feel his light grasp on your shirt before slowly bringing both of you to stand. Once you’re sure that you’re not going to drop him, you struggle with him towards your car. He’s lighter than most adult men, but considering he’s dead weight, it’s still tough to walk with him. You fumble with the handle of the car door, nearly throwing it open so that you only have to let go of him for a brief moment.

You cringe when he falls backwards onto the seats, landing harshly across them. It doesn’t seem to hurt him at all, the only sign that he even felt anything is a groan in the back of his throat. Whispering out a “sorry,” you cover his body with the blanket and make sure all of him is in the car before closing the door and getting into the driver’s seat.

Sighing heavily, you think about your life choices as you glance into the rearview mirror to look at the unconscious man in the back of your car. You’re really going to do this, aren’t you? Taking home a naked man that passed out on the road in front of your car so that you can hopefully wake him up and get him well enough to be on his way without killing you?

Yes, you are.

•••

The first thought that crosses Dream’s mind when consciousness finally returns to him is that his limbs ache. They really, truly ache. It’s not often that an Endless has lingering pains, but it does happen. He stretches his legs out in front of him, feeling his muscles twinge as he attempts to loosen them.

The next thought that crosses Dream’s mind is that he shouldn’t be able to stretch any of his limbs, considering he’s meant to be curled up in a glass ball.

His eyes snap open when he realizes this, and he’s bewildered to find that he’s not staring at guards looking at him disdainfully from the table they’re always perched at, nor is he looking at the wrought-iron bars separating the large, underground room from the staircase upstairs. No, instead, he’s looking up at what looks to be a ceiling fan, spinning lazily around and around.

The events of what happened before he ended up here (wherever “here” is) begin to come back to him in fragments. First the runes being erased, then securing the sand from the guard’s dream. The orb shattering, sand being blown, and beginning to make his way home. That’s where his memory becomes muddled.

There were lights, and a voice. He thinks he remembers the vague sensation of being moved, but he’s not too sure. Whatever happened, he ended up here…on a couch, under a number of blankets. Certainly not in the same basement that he had been in for over a century, with its familiar cold seeping through the very glass he found himself trapped in. No, this room is warm and inviting. Comforting, almost.

Wherever he is, it’s not in the Dreaming. More alarmingly still is that he can’t sense the Dreaming at all. After that small glimpse of his power that got him out of the Burgess basement, his power has completely abandoned him. A not-unusual feeling, considering he spent the last 106 years without it, but being “free” and powerless is not something that he’s used to.

He has had a lot of time to think about what his lack of power feels like. After a few decades, the best he could liken it to is missing a sense or losing a limb. It’s something functional, something that he should have, but that he doesn’t. Cruelly, he was granted a taste of what he should have for a mere second before fate or karma or the universe itself decided to play yet another cruel joke on him.

Dream slowly takes in his surroundings, his thoughts sluggish and confused. There’s a table next to the couch he’s laid on, a glass of water placed on it. A black screen sits on a stand across the room, and he stares at his reflection in it for a moment before the sound of humming draws his attention away.

A figure – the person humming, he assumes – comes through a doorway, eyes immediately meeting his own. Curiously, she smiles at him when she notices this. Dream’s muscles tense, on guard in the presence of an unknown being so soon after escaping Burgess. Has he escaped one prison, only to land in another?

“You’re awake!” she exclaims, as though she’s happy to see this. “How are you feeling?”

He ignores the human’s question. “This is not the Dreaming.”

“No, this is my apartment.”

“I must go.” Dream attempts to stand up, but finds that he struggles to just barely sit up. “I need to return to my realm.”

“You’re not going anywhere, look at you! You’re too weak to even move.”

She begins to approach him, but the glower he sends her way is enough to stop her in her tracks. It does not matter that she was stating the obvious when she said what she did, referencing his physicality. He will not be told what he can and cannot do, where he is allowed to exist. Not anymore. “Do not come any closer, mortal.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

She puts her hands up in the air, presumably to show him that she means no harm. The move reminds him of what one might do in the presence of a frightened animal. In her mind, he is a frightened animal.

“Have you drank any of that water? I don’t know where you were before I found you, but you look like you haven’t had anything to eat or drink in a while.”

He looks at her warily, but slowly takes the glass that is apparently designated for him. After over a century, he’s more than a little parched. Though he will not show any gratitude before it is earned, he is thankful that at least one of his needs is being met.

The woman waits patiently for him to make the next move, choosing to sit on a large chair near the couch and tap at a rectangle she holds in her hands. Morpheus appreciates not being watched as he greedily drains the water that he’s been offered. Only after he places the now-empty glass back on the table does she look up at him and wait for him to make the first move.

“How did I end up here?” Morpheus asks slowly.

“When I found you, you basically appeared in the middle of the road from out of nowhere. You were passed out, and you only really came around so that you could tell me not to take you to a hospital.” She nervously plays with her hands, which rest in her lap. “I wasn’t about to leave you out there, so I brought you here.”

“Why?”

It comes out harsher than he intended, but considering the only interaction he’s had for so long with other beings involved threats and pleas for immortality, riches, and power, he isn’t expecting much. In fact, Morpheus is preparing himself to listen to her list of demands before acting. Though he’s powerless right now and unable to manipulate her dreams the way that he did the guards at Fawney Rig, he still has millenia of experience to draw on when it comes to escaping a captor.

Contrary to his belief, she looks at him in surprise. “Why?” When he nods, she shrugs. “I guess…because if I were naked and unconscious in the middle of the road on a rainy night, I’d want somebody to help me to relative safety.”

Ah. It’s at this point that Dream realizes that he is, in fact, very much still naked. Though he’s hardly shy about his form, he is aware that most humans have a more puritanical point of view when it comes to the covering of bodies.

“Are you hungry? You look like you’ve been starved, so I’m guessing it’s been a while since you’ve had something to eat.” The woman stands and takes the glass off of the table, musing to herself as she walks to another room. “We’ll probably have to start you on something light so that you can get used to eating again. Maybe toast?”

She doesn’t stop rambling even as she returns and hands Morpheus another glass of water. Though, even if she were to stop long enough to take a breath, Morpheus doesn’t know what he would say. He’s so bewildered at this entire situation that the Prince of Stories himself is at a loss for words.

He’s been left completely powerless in the Waking World, and he would have to fend for himself were it not for this random human whose path he’s been literally dropped in the middle of. A human who, apparently, has no devious intentions towards him, though he finds it hard to believe that all humans aren’t evil and heartless like Roderick Burgess and those complicit in his captivity. He finds it especially hard to believe that the first human he comes across after the Burgess affair would be the exact opposite of those he’s been around for so long.

Destiny himself must surely be breaking his stoic demeanor to laugh at his younger brother’s misfortunes.

“Seriously, when was the last time you ate something?” After a moment of silence, Morpheus realizes she’s asking him a question.

His attention is brought back to the woman, who’s reclaimed her seat in the chair across the room. Lifting his chin, and with what he hopes is a voice befitting the ruler he once was, he says, “One hundred and six years ago.”

She laughs at what she assumes is a joke, until she realizes that the expression on his face doesn’t change. He can see this mortal begin to make the connections in her mind. His mention of his beloved realm, the fact that he called her “mortal” to begin with, the century plus of imprisonment. The Waking World is so quick to dismiss magic and the supernatural as “fairy tales;” if it is beyond their comprehension, then it therefore doesn’t exist.

Yet, even with what they believe to be sound logic, humans just know when they encounter something that they can’t quite explain. Morpheus has always seen it in the way that people back up when he or his siblings or any of the many other preternatural beings that wander this plane walk past. The fear in their eyes as something primal activates within them, something telling them that they are no longer the apex predator.

Even with his lack of powers, he still carries his innate abilities that are woven into his very being. He can hear the woman’s heart beat faster, see her pupils dilate in apprehension. She knows, even if she does not want to admit it.

Quietly, she asks, “Who are you? What are you?”

“I am Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares.”

A long minute passes as she takes in the information he’s given her. She does not run away from him in fright (which has happened to him a couple of times), nor does she call for someone who will attempt to capture Morpheus and use his powers to their own advantage. Instead, she thinks over what she’s heard and nods.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lord Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, King of Dreams and Nightmares,” she smiles after saying all of his titles, apparently finding it amusing to be in the presence of a king, “I’m Y/n.”

Morpheus is not used to thanking others, especially mortals. However, this woman’s helpfulness seems to warrant that he learns how to do so, so he nods. “I thank you for offering me aid in my time of need, Y/n.”

“I’m going to get you some food.” He hardly opens his mouth to make a rebuttal before she’s pointing at him accusingly. “Don’t argue with me, you need food. Then after that, we’ll get you some clothes. Sound good?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer before she’s back through the door, presumably towards the kitchen. Though Morpheus is still wary of relying on anybody, let alone a human, he doesn’t exactly have a choice. Not when he’s this weak, and certainly not when he’s powerless. No, he has no choice but to place his trust in this strong-willed woman who was crazy enough to rescue a stranger in the rain.

Fates help him.

•••

So, the random, naked stranger you saved out of the middle of the road turns out to rule the collective unconscious of all of humanity. And he now lives on your couch for the time being (with clothes, thankfully; you had procured a shirt and a pair of sweatpants for him when he had finally agreed to let you help him), because he’s apparently lost the powers that connect him to said collective unconscious. No big deal.

You didn’t want to believe Morpheus at first. After all, just the mere idea of some being who is eons old and is, in his words, “the anthropomorphic personification of the concept of dreams” sounds insane. But the same sense that told you that it was safe to take him home tells you that he’s telling the truth. And as you get to know him more, you find that that sense was right.

From the way that he talks to the memories of empires long gone and the recollections of those great figures of history that he’s met and inspired, all of which he shares with you as the days go by and it becomes obvious that he can’t just ignore you and hope that you go away, you find it very easy to believe him. He hasn’t given you a reason to not believe him, and until he does, you’ll continue to trust what he tells you.

It’s at least a week before your new roommate is strong enough to move easily around your apartment, though he still looks half-starved. On his second day of staying at your apartment, you had offered to help him to the shower. After all, if you had been deprived of showering for 106 years, it would be one of the first things that you wanted to do. After thinking it over for a long couple of minutes, Morpheus had begrudgingly agreed. The moment he attempted to stand, he had been unable to support himself and had fallen to his knees. This left him no choice but to take your outstretched hand.

It was very obvious that the proud king felt humiliated at needing to use you to support most of his weight as you maneuvered him through your apartment and to the bathroom. You couldn’t exactly blame him, because you’re sure that it is humiliating, especially when you’re a being that’s normally more powerful than a literal god who has to rely on a mere human for help walking a few feet.

According to Morpheus, if he had his powers, he would have recovered at a much faster rate. Since he doesn’t, though, and he’s effectively human for the time being, he has to recover as a human would. When you come home from running a couple of errands one day to find him sitting up on the couch without needing to lean on anything for support, reading a book from your collection, you’re extremely glad to see that his “human” recovery is progressing nicely.

As time passes, though, you’ve found an odd companionship with him. He’s slowly become less wary of you, and you of he, which has allowed you both to trust the other and actually, dare you say it, form a tenuous friendship.

It seems like he’d been expecting you to basically tiptoe around him and ignore him throughout the duration of his stay with you. Considering you don’t want to wake up to a corpse on your couch because you abandoned him in his time of need, and because you’re a person with a conscience, you’ve done the exact opposite, much to his chagrin and bewilderment.

You’re in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a soup, still working on building Morpheus up towards being able to eat actual meals, when he actually comes to you seeking companionship. He hovers at the edge of the kitchen, watching silently as you go through the familiar motions. Finally, he moves just a couple of steps closer, like a feral cat being enticed by food from a human who’s determined not to look at them. It’s not that far off from reality, you realize.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

Though it’s pretty damn obvious what you’re doing, you decide not to be sarcastic with him. “Making soup.”

He nods, leaning against the counter to watch. You feel a bit like you’re on a cooking show with the way that he’s viewing your actions so intently.

“What’s so interesting?” you ask after another moment of unwillingly being on Iron Chef.

“I suppose I’ve never really watched someone cook before.”

The knife pauses in midair, and you turn to look at him. “I’m sorry, what? You’ve been alive for as long as beings have had consciousness, but you’ve never watched someone cook?”

“It’s not often that I have to eat. If I choose to enjoy food, the palace staff typically prepares it for me.”

Oh yeah. It’s easy to forget that Morpheus literally has a castle when he’s standing in your kitchen with bedhead. You would make a joke about him being spoiled, but you suppose that if you were in his position, you also never would have taken the time to actually step inside a kitchen.

“Do you want to learn?”

“How to cook?” You nod. “Are you sure that you want to teach me?”

“I’m literally just going to have you cutting vegetables,” you say with a laugh. “It’s a pretty easy task, even for you, your highness.”

His lips just barely move upwards, and you stare at him, stunned. Did he just smile at you? You didn’t even know that he knew how to do that. You’re about to try and convince yourself that it was just a trick of the light when he says, “Being that I am a king, it’s ‘your majesty,’ not ‘your highness.’”

He did smile! And he made a joke! It’s such a small accomplishment, yet you can’t help but to feel immensely proud of yourself. Hiding your own pleased grin, you step back from the cutting board. “Okay your majesty, come over here so I can teach you to cut vegetables.”

Morpheus definitely isn’t going to be on any cooking shows of his own anytime soon. Actually, you don’t know that you’d even trust him to be in the kitchen by himself anytime soon. He nearly cuts off a finger a couple of times, and he struggles to figure out how to hold whatever he’s cutting so that it can actually be cut. The vegetables he’s been in charge of cutting are uneven, but you can see how proud he is of having completed this task himself. You’re proud of him too; though you can tease him for having never done something like cooking before, it must be hard to learn a new skill after so long.

After this, Morpheus becomes less of an unwilling house guest who’s only putting up with you because he physically can’t leave and more of a friend. It became inevitable that you would have to spend time together, since he’s living on your couch until he can figure out how to get back to the Dreaming, but it’s become actually enjoyable to be in his presence, and vice versa. Though he can still be cold, distant, and haughty, that’s to be expected. Your relationship has changed, and he’s changed.

It takes a couple of weeks, but Morpheus finally starts to feel well enough to re-enter the land of the living. At least, he’s well enough to insist that he can start researching how to regain his powers or go home. Naturally, you join him. Morpheus has long-since given up on asking you why you help him, finally realizing that this is just how you are. If he wanted to be left alone, he should have landed in front of the car of someone who didn’t care about his well-being.

You’re sitting in your local public library with him, one of your now-regular visits as you search through book after book to try and find answers. The both of you are tucked in a corner near a set of windows, enjoying the way that the sun warms your skin. Books from a variety of subjects are scattered all around you; religion and history, mythology and occult. Anything that could potentially give you an idea of how to help an Endless regain the powers that they were created with. Needless to say, there’s not a lot of material written on this topic.

Yet another book with no answers is tossed to the side in frustration, and you begin to just fire off random ideas off the top of your head. Most of them involve seeking the help of any magic contacts that Morpheus has here in the Waking World, which is made difficult by the fact that Morpheus has no way of contacting these beings. Both because of his lack of powers, as well as the fact that he’s not the most open person for one to make a contact with.

(“You? Not friendly? I’m shocked, truly,” you had said with obvious sarcasm coloring your tone. Morpheus simply sighed, turning the page of the book he’s reading harsher than needed.

“Yes, have your laughs at my expense.”)

It’s more than a little discouraging to have absolutely no answers, and you’re starting to get desperate. You tap your fingers against a book you’ve already looked through, hoping that maybe you’ll learn something through osmosis.

“You could…”

You pause, trying to think of a good idea. Your mind is racing as you turn from logical plans that could actually work to the illogical. After all, if you can’t find something that works, you’re at least going to have some fun.

“Throw me off a bridge, maybe? That’d surely get your sister to show up.”

Morpheus only looks at you. “That is not funny, Y/n.”

“I didn’t say it was!”

“I know your sense of humor well enough by now to know that you find this suggestion of yours at least slightly amusing.”

Your lips twitch, because he’s right. The mental image of Morpheus chucking you off a bridge and then eagerly waiting for his sister, literal Death, to appear while you’re screaming and falling to your end does make you want to laugh.

“Well, it’s the only idea I’ve got,” you say with a shrug.

“A terrible idea, truly.”

You roll your eyes jokingly and mutter, “Jerk.”

When you first met Morpheus, he would have taken your words and actions quite seriously and been offended at the perceived insults. Now, he simply rolls his eyes right back at you and smirks. Just one of the many things that have changed between you.

It’s here, on the floor of the library, that things majorly change between you. It’s here that Morpheus kisses you for the first time.

You had taken a solo walk around a few of the shelves under the guise of seeing if you had missed any research, but really you needed to get away from the corner of no answers before you started shredding books out of anger. It helped enough that you were able to return to the research with fresh eyes, and it seems like it’s paying off.

In a book about pagan rituals, you find the first promising information that you’ve seen in the last three library trips. You lay your hand on Morpheus’s shoulder to get his attention. “Wait, listen to this! This book talks about summoning the Fates.”

You point down to the passage.

“‘It is fitting to begin December with an offering to the Three Fates, the weavers of destiny. Put out three small cups of red wine, fruit and bread, along with three knives. This is a way of honoring the powers that will bring more provisions during the coming year. Have ready three candles, red, black and white.’ It’s not December, but I would think this could potentially be done year-round? We give them an offering, they recognize who it’s coming from, and they give us some answers. What do you think?”

When you look up at Morpheus, you find him already looking at you with his beautiful blue eyes. He’s told you that, when he has his powers, his eyes resemble two stars. With the way that they always twinkle when they catch the light just right, you’d argue that they already do. You smile at him, unable to stop the awkward giggle that escapes you as he continues to look at you with something you can’t quite name.

“What?”

His eyes look from your eyes to your lips and back again. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do, a mere moment before he leans in and presses his lips to yours.

Morpheus is a really good kisser, which is to be expected since he’s been alive for longer than you can fathom. He kisses you softly and sweetly, and the butterflies that flutter in your stomach make you feel a bit like a teenager receiving her first kiss from a beau. You sigh against his lips, bringing a hand to his cheek while he places one of his on the back of your neck.

Then, it actually hits you what you’re doing. Though you don’t want to (like, you really don’t want to), you need to put a stop to this. What if the only reason he’s doing this is because he feels some sense of gratitude towards you for saving him in the first place? You can’t take advantage of him like that, even if he is a very attractive man that is currently kissing you.

“Wait.” You put a hand on his chest to put some space between you, though you still rest your forehead against his. “I don’t want you to kiss me just because I’m letting you crash on my couch.”

“Do you think that I am incapable of making my own decisions?”

“No, of course not! I just–I worry that you feel like you owe me, or something. You don’t.”

You can feel Morpheus smile under your touch. “It is chivalrous of you to refuse me because you believe that you are taking advantage of me. However, I can assure you that you need not worry.”

“Are you sure? What about, like, power dynamics?”

“Y/n, I’m eons old. If anything, I have all of the power here based solely on that.” Oh, yeah. Before you can actually beat yourself up over the stupidity of that statement, he continues. “I can promise you that I have my wits about me, and there is nothing clouding my decision-making. I care for you, and I would very much like to continue kissing you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, unable to believe that this is actually happening.

He laughs lightly. “Now, may I kiss you again?”

You nod. “Yeah, you can definitely kiss me again.”

Morpheus is more than happy to reclaim your lips with his.

It would almost be embarrassing, how quickly you’ve fallen in love with Morpheus, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s fallen just as fast. You’ve lived blissfully in your own little corner of heaven with him for almost four months now. Though getting him home is still important to both of you, it’s also become less of a priority as you’ve fallen more in love with each other.

(He’s also very happy to be sleeping in bed with you instead of on the couch.)

Laying in bed with him one night, you’re transfixed with mapping out every inch of his skin that you can touch with your fingers and watching goosebumps form in their wake. You don’t think you’ll ever get over just how unreal Morpheus seems to be. You understand, of course, that this is due to the fact that he’s an Endless, that he is physically more than a human, and thus a human form can not truly contain all of him. But to be up close and personal to such a phenomenon really drives home just how ethereal he really is. You can easily see why he’s been mistaken as a god so many times throughout history.

“What’s it like?” you whisper to him, unwilling to fully break the tranquility you’re experiencing.

In the dim light, Morpheus looks at you. “What is what like, beloved?”

Your heart jumps at the pet name, so sweet and unexpected. Fighting to keep your wits about you, you ask, “Your kingdom. The Dreaming.”

“I don't even know where to begin when I tell you that it is the most wondrous place you will ever lay eyes upon.” He closes his eyes briefly and sighs wistfully. “It has been over a century since I have been home, and yet I can still see it as if I were merely there yesterday.”

“If it’s hard to talk about, you don’t have to.” You should have realized that asking him about the home he currently has no way of getting back to would make him upset.

“It does not make me sad to talk about it. Rather, I love the Dreaming so much that it overwhelms me sometimes. I am the Dreaming, you see. It is a part of me.”

“So it’s perfect, then.” You don’t mean to say that out loud, but the way that Morpheus looks away bashfully makes you glad that you did.

“That is what some believe, yes. It’s a vast plane, considering all the universe’s dreamers use it when they close their eyes at night. The area around the palace, my direct kingdom, is stunning. Imagine the most beautiful landscape you can. That beauty would pale in comparison to Fiddler’s Green, with its orchards and valleys and rivers and mountains.”

“Really?”

“Mm. My personal favorite is a small clearing ringed by trees that make it seem as though you’re completely blocked off from the rest of existence. There’s a waterfall there, too, and I believe you’d quite enjoy the mermaids.”

All of it sounds wonderful, but that last word has your mind sparking with excitement. “Mermaids? Like…actual mermaids?”

“Of course. Mermaids are creatures of dreams. And nightmares. They are subjects in my realm.”

“That’s amazing.” You pause for a moment. “Would I be able to meet them?”

“You will be able to do anything you wish when I finally get to bring you to my realm. Though, it may be difficult to get you out of the library once you’re there.”

“I should have assumed you’d have a library.”

“Yes, and it is my sanctuary in the Dreaming. The library holds every book that has ever been written, every book that will be written, and even books that have merely been ideas in the minds of authors. It is overseen by Lucienne, without whom I fear the library would fall into permanent disrepair.”

“That sounds wonderful.” You yawn, your eyes too heavy to keep open for much longer. Morpheus notices this and pulls you closer to him. “Tell me more about it. Then maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to catch a glimpse of it while I sleep.”

It’s merely wishful thinking, considering dreams since the night that Roderick Burgess trapped Morpheus in his basement have been nothing more than fragments of scenarios. But his voice is so deep and calming, and you can tell that it makes him happy to talk of his home. Maybe tonight will be the night that the Dreaming decides to welcome its king back home. And even if it doesn’t, you’ll enjoy falling asleep in your lover’s arms.

•••

When Morpheus first woke up after his captivity, alone and confused and without his powers, he thought that he would never be able to feel anything except anger. Anger at his situation, anger towards those that had captured them. And for a few days, anger was all that he felt. But slowly and surely, Y/n had managed to chip away at the anger that had threatened to harden around his heart. Though he was not looking for love, nor did he expect to ever deserve love again after everything he had done to ruin every relationship he had been in, he had found it with her. The anger became replaced with an incandescent happiness, happiness that threatened to swallow Morpheus whole if he allowed it.

And he was certainly tempted.

It’s been approximately four months since the night he was freed, but it certainly hadn’t felt that way. Where he had spent the past 106 years counting day after agonizing day, four months with his beloved seemed to pass in the blink of an eye; an impressive feat for an Endless. Morpheus has, dare he say it, enjoyed getting to be a human, learning more about humanity and all that he had missed. Though he still lamented the loss of something so integral to his very being as his powers, his realm, he was able to recognize the gift that he had been given in spending the last four months with Y/n.

He’s sitting with her on the couch where it seems as though everything began, reading yet another book in the hopes that he might find a way to regain his powers, while she watches a movie on the television about some sort of battle in space (yet another aspect of humanity that she enjoyed teaching him, modern technology and everything along with it). She had meant to show him this movie, claiming that it was one of her favorites and that she believed every being needed to see this. Of course, it took a total of five minutes before he found himself hopelessly lost among the plot and had turned to the book next to him.

She had pouted for a moment, more to try and make him feel bad than from actually being upset. He had simply smirked in her direction, kissing her forehead before laying his arm around her and drawing her closer to him. Yet another thing that he loves about her, among many things, is that he can just exist in companionable silence with her. It’s rare, at least in his experience, when one finds another where this is possible.

Her head falls against his shoulder, and he smiles down at her when he sees she’s fallen asleep. In moments like these, he wishes more than anything that he was connected to the Dreaming once more. What he wouldn’t give to be able slip into her mind and give her the sweetest dreams that she deserves. As he closes his eyes and leans his head against hers, he imagines that he can feel that link to his realm.

After a moment, Morpheus opens his eyes and jarringly realizes that he can feel it. Her dreams, and the Dreaming itself. After 106 long years, the Dreaming returns to him as naturally as if he had simply blinked. His power suddenly twining through his veins again, something which he had taken for granted nearly his entire existence, has tears pricking at his eyes. Oh, how he has missed this.

Morpheus can return home now to reclaim his mantle and rule the Dreaming once more. He should be thrilled about this. He is thrilled about it. Thrilled, until he looks at the sleeping woman leaning against him and realizes that a decision must be made, and soon.

His power has returned, yet it’s still incredibly weak. Weak from not using them so long, and weak due to his not having his tools–his sand, his helm, and his ruby. Thus, he cannot be at his full strength until he recovers them. Will his power disappear yet again if he waits too long? If he wakes her to relay the good news, to take a moment to say goodbye, will the Dreaming escape from him? If his power does leave again, will he ever have another chance such as this?

It’s something that he cannot risk. And yet, he finds himself unsure, even though he knows what he has to do. This woman, this mortal, has managed to ensnare his heart so completely that Morpheus considers potentially forsaking his kingdom just for the chance to properly part with her in the way that he wants to, in the way that she deserves.

Morpheus takes great care not to wake her up when he moves her off of him to lay down on the couch. His fingers trace the slope of her nose, down to her lips and across her cheeks, mapping out her face. If this is to be the last time he sees her, he wants to remember everything about her. Knowing that he will have to depart without telling her where he is going or knowing if they will be together again grieves him. He has not felt pain of this kind since he helplessly watched Jessamy be murdered in front of him.

He lingers when he kisses his beloved’s forehead, not sure when, or if, he will have the pleasure of seeing her again. If she’ll forgive him for what he has to do, how he has to leave her. He whispers this in her ear, a simple, “I love you. Forgive me.”

Then, he closes his eyes and feels that tug that has always connected him to the Dreaming. He envisions the sandy dunes outside of the Gates of Horn and Ivory, the way they melt into the rolling hills of Fiddler’s Green in the distance. He sees his castle and his library, Lucienne and Mervyn, Cain and Abel, the seas of dreams and nightmares. He places himself there, and when he opens his eyes to see Lucienne leaning over him, when he feels the sands of his realm against his back, he knows…

He’s home.

•••

Waking up on your couch that day with no sign of Morpheus anywhere had confirmed your worst fears. Just as suddenly as he had appeared in your life, he was now gone without a trace. And as the hours eventually turned into days without him, you had to come to terms with the fact that he was really, truly gone.

Life without Morpheus, after having had him as yours for a few glorious months, just felt dull. Literally, it felt as though your senses were dulled now. Colors weren’t as bright, songs weren’t as beautiful, things didn’t taste as good, flowers didn’t smell right, and things that were once soft now felt harsh against your skin. He was gone, and you were alone. Things were as they were before that fateful night when he landed in front of your car.

It’s not even that he left you. Rather, it’s how he left you. Never would you have expected him to just completely abandon you, with no note left behind or anything to explain where he had gone. You assumed he had gotten his powers back, which was wonderful, truly. After all, that was the end game, wasn’t it? But for him to just…leave, after everything you had been through and shared with each other, hurt worse than you could have imagined.

You became intimately familiar with the five stages of grief in those first few days after his departure, cycling through each stage until you would come back around to the beginning and do it all over again. It felt pathetic that you were this heartbroken, but how could you not be? Morpheus had held your heart in his very hands, only to discard it as if the gift you gave him, of your love, meant nothing. You couldn’t even mope for as long as you wanted to, because you just reminded yourself of fucking Bella Swan in New Moon, and god forbid you share any similarities with her.

Eventually, you settled on feeling angry. Angry at him, angry at the circumstances, angry at yourself, angry at the world. You’re so mad, but then you feel like you have no right to be mad, because he got what he wanted! He has his powers and his realm back, which was the only reason he was with you for as long as he was. You both knew that, and still…

You really wish that you could hate Morpheus.

He hadn’t even come to visit you in your dreams, which had really sealed the deal for how little you meant to him. If he had gotten his powers back and returned to his realm, surely he would have spoken to you while you were asleep to at least let you know that he was alright? But no, you didn’t even receive that from him. And so you were left without closure, which made getting over him really difficult.

Still, you try your best to get over him, even though you really don’t want to do so. Two months after Morpheus vanished without a trace, you’re finally returning the last library book from your research sessions with him. You felt silly, holding onto it for as long as you did, but it proved that he had been here, and that what you had experienced was real. It was a tangible link to him; it was your only tangible link to him. Unfortunately, the library has only let you renew the book so many times before needing it back, and today is that day.

You stand in front of the book deposit box in the library, holding onto the book and feeling the cover that you’ve mapped out time after time as you attempt to work up the courage to let go. Let go of both the book itself, as well as the hope that Morpheus will come back to you. It’s obvious that it’s not going to happen, and you’re doing nothing but hurting yourself by continuing to hold out hope that it will. You need to live your life again, even if it means letting go of the best thing to ever happen to you.

Somebody clears their voice behind you to draw you out of your inner monologue, and you realize that a line has started to form. Smiling sheepishly at the grandma waiting for her turn, you whisper “sorry” to her before taking a breath and finally dropping the book inside. The flap of the box closes with a finality that signifies that you aren’t getting that book back. Stepping away from the deposit box to allow the line to progress, you take a deep breath as the finality of the situation hits you.

That’s it. All that you’re left with from your four months with Morpheus now is memories. You were hoping that this would feel more freeing, that you’d feel a weight lifted off of your shoulders and go waltzing out of the library like the main character in a coming-of-age movie as the end credits played to signify that you were turning a corner in your life. Instead, you just feel a pit in the bottom of your stomach, a sickness that this is really it. Now, you have to figure out what to do next.

Even as you turn to leave, you can’t help but think of Morpheus. You glance into the corner of the library that you spent many days with him in, the corner of the library where he kissed you, and you just want to cry. You miss him. You really, truly miss him, and it seems like it’s going to take more than returning a library book to get over that.

You wish you had pictures that you could burn, like every other normal relationship.

As you exit the library, you find yourself making eye contact with the fucking crow sitting in the tree across the street that seems to follow you around now. You’re probably just paranoid, because you don’t even really like birds, but it feels like you see that giant black bird everywhere you go. At first, for a hopeful second, you had allowed yourself to believe that maybe it was a sign from Morpheus. But when you had quietly said hello to it and it just did crow things, you realized that you were being stupid. Of course a random bird isn’t going to be a messenger from the lover that had left you.

Because this is already a terrible day, it gets worse when you harshly knock against someone when you’re walking in the parking lot to find your car. You stumble backwards, nearly falling from the force of it. The only reason that you don’t fall is because the person who you’ve just inadvertently assaulted grabs onto your forearm to steady you.

“Shoot, I’m sorry,” you mumble, squinting against the sun.

“I believe I’m the one that should be apologizing.”

That voice. You know that voice. Could it really be, or have you just finally lost your mind and are imagining what you want to happen?

But then your vision clears, and you look at him, and no. It’s real. He stands in front of you two months after you last saw him, looking down at you like you’re the one that left him suddenly.

Your mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. There are so many things that you want to say to him. After all, how many times have you imagined this exact scenario and all of the things that you would say to him in said scenario? Now you’re here, with his hand around your arm, and all you can think to say is, “Morpheus?”

He looks better than he did even at his healthiest when staying with you, which goes to show just how drained he was without his powers. His lips are lifted just slightly, his version of a smile, and he looks good. His coat fits him perfectly, as though it were made just for him (it probably was). He’s dressed in all black, of course, from the coat down to the black boots he wears. You finally meet his eyes, and you gasp when, for a split second, you see the stars that make up his eyes before you blink and they’re back to the blue you’ve known.

“Hello, beloved,” Morpheus says. The deep timbre of his voice sends shivers down your spine, a side effect of not hearing it every day like you used to.

You want to be mad at him. You are mad at him. He left you with no warning and disappeared from your life without a trace. He had left you so suddenly, in fact, that sometimes in the middle of the night when you were out of tears and hadn’t yet cried yourself to sleep, you wondered if you had simply imagined everything about him. Yet, seeing him again, all you want to do is fall into his arms and tell him how much you missed him.

When you lunge forward, it’s not to hug him, which is what you always expected you would do if you were to be reunited with him. Instead, you say, “I can’t believe you fucking left me!” and shove at his chest in anger, which, if the look on his face is anything to go off of, he hadn’t been expecting either.

The shove hardly moves him, but it fills you with satisfaction to be able to physically assert just how upset you are, so you shove and hit his chest again and again. Morpheus, to his credit, just stands there and takes it, hopefully because he knows he deserves it.

Even the patience of an Endless, however, is not endless. Morpheus grabs your wrists with one of his large hands and stops the physical manifestation of your rage in its tracks. You fight him for a moment longer, but eventually the hot tears building in your eyes spill over, and you look up to face him defiantly. If he’s going to make you cry, he’s going to have to see it.

“You couldn’t have left, I don’t know, a note or something? Just to let me know that you were going to disappear without a trace?”

Morpheus looks pained at this, and a sick part of you whispers ‘good, he deserves to feel bad.’ “When I realized that I could feel the Dreaming after you fell asleep that night, I was not sure if that would be my one and only chance to reclaim my throne. I had to make a choice, however difficult it was, to return to my realm through your dreams.”

“But you didn’t think to let me know that you were okay after you made it back?”

“You remember my tools? My helm, my sand, my ruby?” He waits for you to nod. “I had to retrieve those before I could return to you.”

“Don’t forget about the whole ‘dream vortex’ thing after that! Ugh, that was a mess.” You look up when another voice chimes in, only to find yourself looking at the crow that you had been mentally cursing minutes ago.

“Did–did that crow just talk?”

“Raven, and yes.” Said raven flutters down to land on Morpheus’s shoulder, who glances at his corvid companion like he’s a nuisance.

“This is Matthew, my emissary,” Morpheus introduces.

“Uh, it’s nice to meet you, Matthew.” You feel a bit stupid saying hello to a raven, but it’d be rude not to. “I’m Y/n.”

“I know!” Matthew says cheerfully.

“You may return to the Dreaming, Matthew. I no longer require your assistance.” You stifle a laugh at how obviously Morpheus wants his raven, who is apparently enjoying being a third wheel, to hit the road.

“Right, right, you don’t have to say another word. I’m off!” Matthew flies from Morpheus’s shoulder and presumably back to the Dreaming, though you’re not quite sure how the logistics of traveling between dimensions work.

Left alone now, Morpheus stares at you, and you he, for a long moment. He seems to be waiting for you to make the first move, to see if you’re going to react with anger again. Finally, you rip your hands from his grasp and throw your arms around him. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Though slowly, Morpheus returns your hug, pulling you to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead before resting his chin on your head. “I missed you as well. I have ached for you and your presence since the moment I had to leave. Believe me, if I could have taken you with me, I would have.”

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling of actually having Morpheus here and being in his arms. It’s all you’ve dreamed of, for lack of a better term, since he left, and it feels just as good as you imagined it would. You could stay like this forever, and you almost do…until a car honks at you and you remember that you’re standing in the middle of the parking lot.

Sheepishly, you wave at the car and mouth “sorry!” as you grab Morpheus’s hand and pull him towards the actual parked cars. The driver that you’ve now royally pissed off glares at you the entire time that they slowly drive past you, making you giggle nervously. When you look over and see the bewildered look on Morpheus’s face (you would love to know how he would have reacted had you been flipped off), your laughter increases.

Your laughter is cut off when Morpheus leans down and kisses you. Whether that be because he’s trying to get you to shut up or because he actually wanted to kiss you, you’re not sure. Either way, you enjoy finally getting to kiss Morpheus once more.

When you pull away, you look him in his piercing eyes and say, “I’m still mad at you, y’know.”

“You have the right to be so. However, if you are amenable to spending more time with me as I attempt to win back your affections, I would like to show you my kingdom.”

“You wanna take me to the Dreaming?” Morpheus nods, smirking at the way you try to act nonchalant and not excited. “...Can I meet the mermaids?”

This makes him chuckle, a rarity for him. “Yes, you can meet the mermaids.”

The excitement at this prospect wins out, and you grin. “Okay then. Woo me, your majesty.”

•••

Morpheus had feared the worst when he had decided that the Dreaming was rebuilt well enough to receive its (hopefully) future Queen. He worried that Y/n would have taken another lover, or that she would not love him at all anymore. A frequent criticism by his siblings is that he gives too much of himself to romantic relationships, and that very well may be true. But Morpheus knew for certain that, were Y/n to turn him down when he finally reappeared in her life (and he would not even blame her for doing so; not with the way that he left and remained away for so long), it would crush him in a way that no other rejection ever had.

He thinks it would hurt even worse than the Nada affair.

When he finally coaxed his beloved to smile in response to something that he said–a sight which he will never take for granted again–those fears were assuaged. When she agreed to accompany him to the Dreaming, Morpheus allowed himself to hope.

Hope. A word so simple, yet a word that carried so much within it that it could defeat Lucifer themself.

Hope blossoms within Morpheus as he holds out his arm for Y/n to grasp onto so that they can travel safely to the Dreaming, and it turns into a flame when she instead grabs onto the lapels of his jacket and allows him to wrap his arm around her waist.

#morpheus #morpheus imagine #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless imagine #the sandman #the sandman imagine

1K notes · View notes