#he absolutely sucks at photography

[garussy]

Holt/Jackson’s room is FILLED with pictures of students at monster high.

They are all blurry and look like they all kind of look like a stalker took them from a bush.

They were not taken from a bush.

Frankie told Holt that they thought artistic guys like in the movies were cute so after hours of failing at painting and sculpting he decided photography fit him best.

He is horrible at it but everyone supports him and let’s him take their picture.

Jackson keeps the pictures up because he doesn’t wasn’t to receive the ten paragraph text about how much his actions hurt Holt.

[amoremagnificentbastard]

Oh, don't mind me, I'm just fangirling over the fact that Diana got to spend the night with Astarion. You know. No big deal.

[grandisknight]

at your service | rafayel

summary: Gaining the upper hand in Kitty Cards has its benefits, which solely consist of making the loser (Rafayel) comply to the winner’s choice.

tags: nsfw (mdni), established relationship, kitty cards (derogatory), teasing, gn!reader (no specific descriptors), 'miss bodyguard' name mention, thomas mention, maid!rafayel, sub!rafayel, costumes, roleplay, maids, photography, kissing, praise kink, ‘master’ kink, brief mouth fucking, finger sucking, handjobs, m!orgasm, ejaculate, implied/suggestive ending

wc: 3.0k | ao3 | kinktober in deepspace masterlist

a/n: don't ask me what happened but just know i will die on the hill that is maid!rafayel

You couldn’t believe your luck. 

And Rafayel couldn’t understand his lack of it. 

The Evol kittens were no better in-between the two of you—some were happily purring or fast asleep, comfortable in their colored teacups. More importantly, unbothered and unaware of the two players on opposite spectrums in their aftermath.

Out of the nine creatures, an overwhelming majority belonged to you. After a long, arduous dual and third round sweep, you had overshadowed Rafayel with a score of thirty-two points to his measly eight sum. He held a quarter to your victory.

“This game sucks,” Rafayel sulks. His frown mirrors one of the red Evol kittens closest to him, rounded tears blobbing down its cheeks. Both defeated, worse for wear at the outcome.

You let out a small laugh. “You say that, and yet you still play with me every week.” 

You poke the cheek of a cheery green Evol kitten, who nudges against your touch in turn and meows. “Isn’t that right, little fella?” It delightfully purrs back at you, the accordance only rubbing more salt into Rafayel’s poor wound.

“Hmph.” He doesn’t fight you there, chin resting in the palm of his hand and averting your teasing gaze.

You collect your hand and his, returning all cards to the discard pile with a satisfied hum. No sooner did a café worker come by to clear your table, leaving the two of you to your devices.

“And you know what that means, don’t you?” You lean forward, reaching to his sulking demeanor. Catching the sleeve of his blouse, you lightly pinch the silk between your fingers, putting on your own petulant expression. “Unless you forgot so soon.”

As long as he breathed and lived, it was actually Rafayel who would constantly have to remind you of things said and done in the past. Less of the forgetful one between you, he takes pride in his memory retention.

Even so, he couldn’t stay upset with you for so long. His shoulders relax at the sound, back straightening and taking your hand into his. A scoff of, “Puh-lease, of course I remember,” answers your questions.

“Loser does what the winner wants,” he tacks on in confidence. 

It was the terms agreed upon when stepping into Meow Meow Café earlier that day—he didn’t think much of it at the time, confident he would win today’s rounds. 

But, that wasn’t the case. Right. You won the first, he the second, and as for the third…

Rafayel pauses then, dual-chromed eyes now narrowing in suspicion. “Wait a minute. I’m the loser.”

You nod, a grin plastered to your face. “Today you are, yeah.”

“And you’re the winner,” he follows up. 

(If you look close enough, you could make out swirls of equations and calculations floating around his head.)

“Two for two, you’re absolutely correct.” With a gentle tug and rise from your seat, you string along a bewildered artist in tow. 

It came altogether then. A sense of dread at your unrevealed schemes quickly fills his tone, face already draining of its color. “Oh no,” Rafayel groans.

“Oh yes,” you chirp. “I have a wish that needs to be granted, and you’re going to help me out!”

—

“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” 

You stood outside the bathroom door, which was currently (and firmly) locked from within. Not that you were going to barge in unannounced, but surely it warranted some concern when Rafayel hadn’t stepped a single foot out since entering. Only the rustles of clothing and hushed utterances echoed the acoustics of tiled walls; you couldn’t really make out any of the finer details otherwise.

And it’s been ten minutes.

You clear your throat, wondering if he missed the first time you called out. “Ra—fa—yel—“

The door swings open then, the man of the hour greeting you with, “Yeah, yeah. I hear you.”

It took a second to register his reappearance, and your mouth fell slack taking him in. “Woah,” you breathe out in awe.

No longer in his casual blouse and accompanying slacks, the artist stood before you in a newly picked attire. 

White knee-high socks stuck to his calves, with the edge of their supporting garters partially hidden and neatly wrapped all the same. A frilled apron of ivory linen rested neatly above his kneecaps, blanketing the black satin of a dress in an equally-met length underneath. Sleeves puffed around his shoulders, and a pointed collar was tastefully unbuttoned in fashion—undoubtedly of his own doing, revealing the flush of his chest and collarbone that homed one of his many beauty marks.

To which, he instinctively covers up with a defensive cross of arms and ears tipped in a bright red. Embarrassment follows his rather meek stance. “So like, that’s all, right? Can I take this off now?”

You take a step closer, hands clasped behind your back in observation and hum. It was well-fitted to his body, hugged neatly in all the places where it mattered. Thomas came in clutch when you asked him the other day, catching him at Flux Arts during one of the slower viewing hours. 

“His measurements?” The agent pondered your request. A couple swipes to his tab later, he adds on with a smile, “Sure thing. If it’s for Rafayel’s sake, then I’ll send them over.”

A little secret kept between the two of you, unbeknownst to the wearer. It was probably for the best, you wouldn’t hear the end of his moping otherwise.

Rafayel whines under your scrutinizing gaze that was lost in thought. “Hey—“

“Not yet,” you say with a shake of your head. “Indulge me for a while more. You took forever in there all by yourself, anyhow.”

You reveal a matching headdress between your once hidden fingers, a row of pleated ribbon swiftly placed amongst his wavy locks. The final piece of the puzzle, a maid in all his glory and in the comforts of your humble abode. A sense of glittering pride holds your gaze to his.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he points out.

Your shoulders raise in a slight shrug. “Of course I am, it’s the winner’s right.” A hand trails down to the curve of his jaw, holding the face that continues to pout. With a light snicker and compliment in attendance, you tell him, “You look very cute, by the way.”

Rafayel’s pout twitches for a second, slyly revealing his enjoyment to the compliment. He clears his throat, saying, “Yeaaah right. Take a picture, I’m sure it’ll last longer.”

Oh, but he spoke too soon. His eyes widen when you actually take out your phone, much to his better judgment. “Hold on, you’re not planning on really keeping a memo, are you?”

“It would be a shame if I didn’t,” you counter. He said so himself—might as well take his word for it.

Swiping to the camera app,  you position the lens inches away and see his furrowed brows through the viewfinder. You gently tug him forward, fingers fully curled underneath his chin. On the other hand, he purposefully sways back and forth in an effort to blur your captures.

You tsk. “The more you squirm, the longer I’ll have to keep trying to take a shot.”

“What, you don’t like my blurry faces too? They’re all handsome,” he huffs. Though a squish to his cheeks cuts him short, stilling him long enough for a ring of shutters to seal the deal.

“Alright, alright,” you coo to console his woes. “I think I managed to get a good one.” 

You lower the phone in observation, scrolling through the new gallery additions. The flurry of dark lavender and hazy skin aside, a few select shots captured the paused moment of time where he did behave. 

Device neatly tucked away into your back pocket, your attention turns back to the subject of your newest wallpaper. Even if this was a reward for you, he deserved just as much in compensation. 

A soft kiss to Rafayel’s jutted lip melts some of his tension, brows no longer scrunched together. You smile at his relaxing shoulders and opening arms when you give another. 

You shower him in adoration, butterflied smooches and his closing eyes soon pressing against the closest wall. Your hands run over the frills of his skirt, smooth to the touch and gently laid out atop his thighs. The barrier of fabric did nothing to hide the amount of warmth emanating through, the effect of your touches having a clear reaction on him. 

You wondered if there was more to be seen—only one way to find out.

Shifting, you drag your lips away from his and to the sweet spot where his jaw and earlobe meet. You ask in a low voice, “So, what do you think?” His blush steadily follows into the very space, worsening when you blow gently over the affected skin. “Dressing up like this for me.”

“My thoughts?” 

Whether it was in disbelief or furthered embarrassment—perhaps a fine condition of both—Rafayel could only exhale. You could feel his legs pressing together in unspoken confirmation, and a bashful turn of his head carries his murmur of, “What do you think I’m thinking about when you touch me like that?”

“Well,” you trail off. “I’d rather show and not tell.”

In a blink, your fingers bunch up the skirt fabric into messied pleats that reveal the answers you sought after. And it truly was a lovely sight to see—you let out a low whistle, impressed at the state he’s in. Through the sheer lace of white trim, a curved tip as red as his ears was weeping quietly, soiling the undergarment dutifully.

“Don’t look,” he whines, attempting to cover up his hardened arousal with the satin.

“Would you prefer if I touched instead?” You tease, catching his wrist in apt timing. You guide his hand over where his body couldn’t lie, and he noticeably twitches. “Oh? Maybe you prefer touching yourself.”

“I can’t do that,” Rafayel weakly counters. It breaks into a low moan when you slowly inch him closer to the beads of precum pulsing past his slit. He hisses when your thumb slips against it, purposefully smearing his come against the lace. “You’re so, so mean, Miss Bodygu—“

“Ah, not so fast.” You tut, drawing back and a string of his arousal follows. He gasps at the unexpected loss, protests shaping his lips before you continue your turn. “That’s not my proper title.”

Confusion tints the hues of red and blue that, already, were far dipped into the seas of lust. “I call you that all the time though.” 

In hindsight, you are his Miss Bodyguard. Have been, for months on end, and with generous bank statements stamped with his name as a source of proof. One who graciously accompanies him when your schedules allow it, to even sightseeing trips for both business and pleasure.

He pauses, then notably gawks with the cogs of realization spinning. “You… Don’t tell me, you want me to call you that?”

It wouldn’t be the first time this particular name has come up in conversation, but the circumstances were vastly different. You bring your soiled thumb to his lips, swiping it across and allowing it to settle into a thin layer of gloss. 

“You can’t be serious,” he says.

“Sorry, are you talking to me right now? I only listen to those with manners.” His eyes only grow in size, yet you feign indifference to it. Of course you would hear him out—though only with the proper name.

Ignorance was never bliss, but rather a crude form of torture for Rafayel. “M… m…” The word laid on the tip of his tongue in a hesitant sound, before a quick mumble follows.

“I can’t hear you.” Your fingers curl themselves once more in a grip over his chin, directing his gaze to go nowhere else but to you. And your eyes were steadfast, committing his flustered face to memory.

“Speak up,” you encourage.

The air above sea had never felt so suffocating yet enticing all at once. Rafayel couldn’t help but enjoy the heat, and the root cause of it, to which he says in a low groan, “Master.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” Your faceted praise comes with a tilt of his head and a kiss to reward his newfound diligence. He sighs into your warmth that welcomes him, though it shifts to a whine when you pull away too soon.

Rafayel nudges your nose with his, a pity show pooling in his eyes. “More, Master.”

“More of what, exactly?” You contemplate, before a decisive, downwards push of his lacey underwear has him sighing. 

His length stood proud against his abdomen, way past a softened state, firm and twitching to the exposed air. You draw a fine line from base to sensitive head, gauging his reaction. The other hand toys with the closest garter on his thigh, fingers dipping past the fine leather. “My sweet Rafayel,” you purr. “What should I do with you?”

“Want you to touch me,” he strains, an edge of impatience to confession. His lips move to mouth at your collarbone, no longer hiding his neediness and taking it in stride. It was rare for you to see this side of him, so vulnerable yet entirely reserved for you—a face he wouldn’t dare show anyone else.

Rafayel spoke with heat in his voice and hazy stars in his eyes. “Master, please. I swear I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything,” you muse, squeezing his thigh thoughtfully. “And all you want me to do is touch you.”  You can’t help but chuckle when his enthusiastic nod only adds to your point. 

You could see his illusory fox ears flatten in disappointment when you pull away, against his wishes. He lets out a small yelp when your fingers release the garter and smack against his skin.

“Master, I—“

“Open,” you instruct, fingers searching his lips once more. 

And Rafayel does, choking a moan when you place them against his tongue. Carefully, you stroke his warm cavern, to which his mouth closes around and sucks with zeal. He swirls his tongue against the pads of your fingers, determined to please you.

His canines briefly graze your skin when you depart with a faint string. Now finely coated in a layer of his saliva, you dip your hand downwards—curling the sticky fingers around his nearly-neglected cock. Rafayel cants his hips immediately, supporting the salaciously wet noises that echo in tune. 

You squeeze his length in warning, pressing the other hand to his abdomen. “Stay still,” you scold, feeling him contract beneath your pressure. “If you can’t follow a simple order, I’ll leave you high and dry.”

“No, no, no,” he whimpers, shaking his head adamantly. His hands grip the skirt, desperate and knuckles almost turning white from their strength. Something to keep him grounded, to make sure he listens well to his beloved—“Master, I won’t move, promise.”

You purse your lips. “We’ll see about that.” 

Up and down, you tenderly attend to his arousal in generous strokes. Steady rubs and an occasional swipe to his sensitive head last for what feels like an eternity to Rafayel. He was so well-behaved when his orgasm was threatened, all in the palm of your hand.

“You’re close,” you observe with a particularly firm flick, “Aren’t you?”

“Mhm, ‘m very close,” Rafayel quickly admits, his breaths ardent and changing in pitch. He looked so beautiful like this, prettily wrapped around your fingers and a sweet song of your name resonates from his throat. 

Abandoning the languid strokes, you angle your elbow to reach him sooner—faster. “A good, honest boy,” you coo. His blush only deepens at the sound, and his keens grow in volume. You’d apologize to the neighbors later. 

“Should I let you come?” You ask knowingly.

“Master, Ma—ah—ster,” he cries out. “Can feel it, I’m about to—“ A tear rolls down his cheek, matching the one threatening to bead past his slit. “Please, please.” Overwhelmed and in a desperate need for relief, Rafayel’s expression stirred a flame within you.

“Let it out,” you coax, pace unrelenting and threatening to cramp your fingers. The finish line was only a step away, and you say with a smile, “Do it for me. Come undone, my little maid.”

Blissful orgasm wrecks his body, accompanying his labored whines and pearls of white leaving his spent cock. Both the fabric of his outfit and your hand became victims to the viscous liquid, with the air equally met with nothing but the scent of it. 

Rafayel was boneless by the time he was nothing but dribbles of cum and a wrinkled skirt, slouching against the wall.

Your dry hand finds its way to his face, kindly stroking his cheek and adding a kiss to his relaxed brow. “You did so well, Raf.”

“Course I did,” he manages to jest in a hoarse voice. He eyes the state of his clothes and your dirtied hand, to which he nods towards. “Give me your hand.”

“What?” You look down, before raising it between your faces. It glistens, brought to the light and sinking into the creases of your skin. “Why—Ah.” 

Obediently, Rafayel takes your fingers dripping in release to his mouth. He licks in strides at the leftovers as if it were a swirl of ice cream on a hot, summer day.

“Cleaning up the mess you made,” you muse, though make no movement to stop him. “What a dutiful maid I have.” 

He nips your now unsullied fingertips at the comment. His hold on your wrist brings you closer—you stumble unexpectedly, letting go of his face to steady a hand to his chest.

“Raf—“ Your voice stutters when you feel his knee rub between your legs. Purposeful and angled, the pressure stokes the forsaken flames in your abdomen. “Rafayel,” you breathe, attempting to collect your bearings. 

“I hope you know I won’t easily forget all the things you’ve done,” Rafayel murmurs, eyes glimmering in mischief. “I won’t let you off easy, Master.”

[ihaechans]

Smile! (You’re on camera) || N.JM

PAIRING ▸ Na Jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ pure smut

WARNINGS/CONTENT ▸ profanity, oral (m), hair pulling, throat fucking, praise, sexual photography/videos, dom!Jaemin, dirty talk, unbearable amount of pet names, slight hand job, spit kink (i apologize for this but not rlly...) unprotected sex (use protection plsss)

SUMMARY ▸Jaemin loves taking pictures. He loves the beautiful and captivating nature, golden sunsets, gloomy rainy days, and flower fields. The only sight that is his favorite though, is the one of his girlfriend on her knees.

WORD COUNT▸ 2.5k

A/N: First smut in like 5 months #yolo. this draft is so old it's been sitting half-completed for like a year and a half so I finally decided to just finish it today. Oops.

Jaemin loved a lot of things.

Loved a lot of things about you to be exact.

First sight and he knew he had to have you, putting in hours and hours worth of effort. He's lucky it paid off. He scored the girl of his dreams, the girl he saw as perfect in every way and he’s so lucky he did.

He’s lucky for someone as perfect as you. He was lucky that someone could relate to him on an emotional level without feeling awkward or uncomfortable sharing his feelings with, one of the things he had feared you wouldn’t understand in the beginning. He loved the way you were unapologetically yourself, not hiding or masking your true self, being confident and bold in anyway you could.

He also thinks you’re the prettiest girl in the world, made just for him and him only. Everything about you was just perfect.

“Look at my pretty girl,” his voice sounds rough and strained, but his hand holds his camera steady. “You’re so perfect. Sucking my cock like a fucking pro.”

Nothing about this position was comfortable. Your knees are red and sore from kneeling on the wooden floors for a concerning amount of time, your jaw aching and your eyesight blurred by tears. You know you look a hot mess but Jaemin thinks you’re absolutely stunning.

His beloved camera is steady in one hand as the other finds purchase in your hair. Pulling, and tugging aggressively on your hair as you cry out around his thick cock, every moan and groan sending pleasurable vibrations throughout his body.

“Open up princess, show the camera that pretty little mouth.” and you do, letting his dick rest heavily on your tongue. “That’s it, baby. Now keep it open,” he demands, smiling happily when you cooperate without hesitation.

A fat string of Jaemin’s saliva lands on your tongue, a wicked smirk forming across his features when he grabs the base of his dick, slapping his tip across your tongue a couple of times to smear his spit around. 

“Mmh,” he groans, nearly cumming at the sight of your eager hand attempting to fully take him back into your mouth. “My sweet girl is a little impatient I see.”

In the beginning, you were never really a big fan of giving head, but being with Jaemin changed you. He was great in bed, and the first couple of times you two had sex, he would never let you suck him off. He always preferred giving instead of receiving, but something had awoken inside of you the first time he finally let you have a taste.

He was so vocal and appreciative of how skilled you were with your mouth, the praise and constant reminders of this were the sole reason why you kept doing it, and over time you came to enjoy it more and more. 

“Shit-” You lick at his sensitive tip before taking him back into your mouth, cheeks becoming hollow as you suck on him with fervor. “You love my cock don’t you pretty girl? Always so fucking good at sucking my dick. Made just for you baby.”

You simply nod at all his nonsense, barely paying him any mind as you continue sucking him harder, faster as seconds pass by. Your hand strokes his base and plays with his balls as you stare up at him, the overwhelming sensation feeling all too good. He stares at you from the other side of his camera, nearly forgetting to record when you trace the sensitive vein on the underside of his cock.

“Fuck yes.” He shudders, thighs beginning to shake uncontrollably as he nears his climax. “God baby, gonna let me cum down your tight little throat?” You nod without hesitation and immediately, the grip on your hair is unbearably sharp and painful, your boyfriend forcing your head down to take his entire cock down your throat.

You can barely breathe but you love it, your airway being stuffed full of your beloved boyfriend’s dick was something you would never complain about. “My baby looks so pretty. Mouth stuffed full of my cock and tears in her eyes.”

His voice is unstable and rushed, the intensity of his approaching orgasm making him sound winded.

He thrusts his cock down your throat a couple more times before blowing his load down your throat, almost causing you to choke as he demands you to swallow it all.

You’re sure that you’re drooling everywhere, lips smeared with his cum and your saliva.

“So fucking sexy. Open wide.” You do once more, showing the camera that you had indeed, swallowed all of his cum. “I’m not done with you yet princess, get on the bed.” Now that he’s finished, he sounds more relaxed and controlled, his voice steady and the camera following your every move.

Jaemin pulls his sweatpants back up as he watches you follow his orders. “Take your clothes off, I wanna see you baby.” In seconds, you are completely naked on his bed, waiting patiently for his next direction. “All fours.” Spinning around in a rush, you get on all fours, wiggling your ass in front of Jaemin and the camera. 

A hash slap is delivered to the flesh and you groan, mind wondering if Jaemin would be nice and stretch you out with his fingers or dive straight in to fucking you. Jaemin was big. The biggest you had ever seen. The heaviest you had ever handled too.

“Gonna fuck your tight little hole so good, just watch.”

You assume he’s talking to the camera since you are currently facing the bedsheets, about to beg him to do something when his fingers start rubbing against your folds. “Shit Jaem.. please fuck me…”

He simply ignores you, continuing his teasing touches against your cunt. You open your mouth to complain when he shoves a finger inside of you, a whine slipping out instead. “So warm. Wonder how good it’ll feel around my cock.” He groans, moving the camera closer to get a clearer view of his fingers shoved deep inside of your pussy.

“Please… oh my god.” When he finds the spot that makes your toes curl, you know it's over. Your climax approaching faster than you expected. “Stop! Please- I can’t.”

Jaemin is stuck in his own world, blocking out the sound of your pleas and whines as he watches your body quiver and flail around in front of him. “Just once princess, please cum for me and I promise I’ll fuck you.”

The softness in his tone throws you off for a moment and the pace of his fingers picking up speed nearly makes you choke. You’re so close, but the thing that makes you climax is the feeling of his tongue against your hole.

“Shit!” You curse, shivering as you reach your high. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!“ Jaemin doesn’t stop when you climax, and all you can do is cry out and plead for him to stop against the bedsheets.

“Look how pretty…” He whispers.

Your entire body feels numb as he continues to abuse your hole with his fingers, not once stopping until you feel another orgasm building up inside of you.

“Please Jaem- fuck! I cant Jaemin, stop, oh my god…” There’s tears in your eyes, the pressure becoming overwhelming. All you could hear was the sounds of your soaking wet cunt being abused by Jaemin's thick fingers as he chuckled evilly at your suffering.

His camera was focused straight on your core, the lens picking up every single detail. “Such a good girl, taking everything I give you.” and finally, he stops, leaving a harsh slap to your ass as he pulls his fingers out of you.

You’re writhing on the mattress, mouth hanging open as thin strings of drool slip out onto the sheets. “I- fuck, I can’t Jaem-“ you breathe, clearly out of breath.

“I haven’t even put my dick in you yet and you’re already fucked out? How cute.” He adjusts his grip on the camera so that it’s capturing the mess he’s made of your cunt perfectly, adding another slap to your ass for the video.

“Turn around and spread your legs for me baby,” Your boyfriend starts, stripping out of his sweatpants as he awaits you to follow his direction. “I’m gonna fuck you now.” 

Your whole body hurts already, and you’re barely able to follow his order, groaning weakly as you muster the strength to flip yourself around and spread your legs for Jaemin to see. A low curse leaving his lips as he stares at the mess he’s already made out of you.

The room felt muggy as a thin sheen of sweat formed on your forehead, strands of loose hair matting onto your skin and mascara starting to smudge from the heat your body was emitting. “Please fuck me..” Jaemin smirks proudly when he hears you whine for him, staring straight at you with dark eyes.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, getting tired of holding the camera in his hand. “Gonna fuck this pussy so good.” and with that, Jaemin stops recording, throwing the camera down onto the carpet below.

Positioning himself between your spread legs, you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, wondering how it would feel inside of you next.

“You want it so bad,” he growled, stroking your cunt with his tip. “You’re going to take it all, aren’t you?”

The anticipation was nearly unbearable, and you nodded feverishly.

“Yes...please,” you whispered, desperate for the relief only he could provide you with.

With one swift movement, Jaemin thrusts into you, filling you completely and sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body. Jaw slack, you gasp and moan, the feeling of him inside of you completely overstimulating.

“Oh fuck, baby,” He panted, feeling your pussy clench around him. He picked up the pace, his thrusts getting harder and faster, his thighs slapping against your ass with each movement. You felt his cock hitting that spot deep inside of you, sending you soaring higher and higher with each surge.

“Oh god, Jaem, yes, harder, deeper,” you pleaded, your nails digging into the sheets as you arched your back, meeting his every thrust. Jaemin grunted in response, his voice hoarse with lust as he poured everything he had into you.

Another climax hit you, this one even more intense than the last, and you wailed out his name as you came, clenching around him until he thrust once more, his own release filling you.

As he collapsed onto you, both breathless and spent, you couldn't help but smile weakly, your body still trembling from the intensity of the experience. Jaemin looked down at you, his eyes softening as he gently kissed your forehead.

“You're so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking your hair. The camera had long since stopped recording, but the memories of this night would be forever etched in your mind along with every other moment you spent with Jaemin.

[captainamericasmotercycle]

polaroids

Kinktober Day 9 —> masterlist

pairing: james potter x reader

warnings: pornography, light smut, minors DNI, 18+, all characters are 18+, p in v sex, penetrative sex, missionary, doggy, sucking dick idk

As you peeled off your clothes and got onto James’s bed. He sauntered over to his dresser, grabbing something out of the top drawer. You watched as he came to you with his polaroid in hand.

“I just want to take some pictures of you, keep ‘em in my wallet maybe, I just want you with me always,” you blushed at his words.

He pushed you down on your back so that he could hover over you. He first took one of your tits in his large hand, squeezing it gently and, of course snapping a picture of you in his hold.

Placing the developed picture on his nightstand, he pressed a sweet kiss to your stomach. He came down to your core, pushing your legs open, he pressed his fingers to your slick folds and took a photo of his fingers buried in you.

“Fuck, I need more,” he made you feel like a model, though these pictures were quite explicit, he couldn’t help but make you feel you were about to be on the cover of a magazine.

You wanted to help out with his photography mission, you sat up and yanked down his pants, freeing his erection, you took his cock into your mouth, letting him quickly snap a picture of his cock resting on your tongue with your mouth wide open.

“Fucking model, you are. I’m keeping that one in my wallet.”

You continued to suck on his cock, he hesitated with the pictures, not being able to think straight with your lips wrapped around him like this. After an embarrassingly short amount of time, he came in your mouth, you swallowed, pleasing him even more.

He flipped you over, ass up, “Just a couple more.”

He teased your entrance for a moment before sliding into you. As he began to thrust into you, he took a photo of him inside you, your face smooshed into his pillows. He may as well put this one on a shirt to let everyone know who he belongs to.

After a couple more thrusts and many more moans, he pulled out and lightly tapped your ass, signaling you to flip over on your back.

As you laid, he slid back in, taking another photo from above of you absolutely cock drunk for him. He just needed one more photo to complete is explicit set.

As he thrusted harder, you felt a bundle of nerves growing in your lower stomach. Soon after his hardest thrust yet, you came all over him. He snapped a photo of your face as you came.

Now his set was complete.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Can i request headcanons for helen, BEN, and jeff with a reader that does photography

I've technically written Helen and Jeff both before, but they're both old and don't have much substance, so I'm gonna go for my rare decision of rewriting both of them. I'll still link to the old asks though.

Jeff with a crime scene photographer| Jeff with a photography major s/o| Helen with a photographer s/o

I think those are pretty outdated, so I just wanna give a newer answer :)

Helen:

I stand by my previous answer that Helen, in his love for art, enjoys viewing photography, but doesn't enjoy taking photos himself because he prefers to feel the art, but he will absolutely be engaged in your own photography. Whenever you've been out taking photos he always asks to see how they came out, and I can see him actually using his favorites of your photos as references for drawings or paintings. He understands photography theory, and while he doesn't love doing it himself, I think he'd for sure give you some pointers if you asked for them, and I still think if you're interested in landscape photography he'd take you to all of his favorite spots with good views to make sure you can find some good places. I previously said Helen hates having his photo taken, and while I no longer abide by that, I do still think you're the only person he'd let photograph him. He volunteers himself very easily to act as a model if you need him to, for practice or just to take some photos of him, and he's a very good model for you. He'll wear whatever clothing you'd like, and he's incredibly expressive, showing more emotion than he normally would depending on what kind of shots you're going for, and he makes for a great test subject if you want to practice shooting in specific locations. He always praises you for your work because he thinks you're an incredible photographer, but if you ever praise him for his work as a model that he'd get quite flustered about it. Helen loves helping you out in any way that he can, as not only a fellow artist, but as your partner.

BEN:

BEN himself absolutely loves photography. He likes taking his own pictures of different things, although he's never really had the practice or advice of taking them with someone much more practiced in photography, and I think he'd like taking photos alongside you. I mean, I can see him buying a really nice camera just so he can take better photos alongside you instead of just using his phone camera. He asks you for advice a lot, and he's always really excited when you give him pointers. I can see him going out when you're both apart and trying to take a bunch of photos so that he can show you them when you see each other next so that he can ask you if there's anything he can do better, but also just to see if you like them, and of course you do. It always makes him so giddy and excited when you praise his photography, since he has such high respect for you as a photographer, so it feels so special when you tell him he's doing a good job. I can also see him just asking to accompany you out while you're out so he can watch you at work, one so he can see how you do stuff, and two because he just loves watching you take photos because he thinks you look so attractive when you're focused on your photos. Even if you're taking photos of other people, he'll go into his ghostly form and hide from them just so he can get a shot at your talent in action. He thinks you're the most talented photographer in the whole world, and I absolutely see him printing off a bunch of your photos and hanging them in his room so he can always look at them and think of you.

Jeff:

Jeff is so, so incredibly impressed with all of your photos, regardless of their quality, because he feels he's always sucked at taking pictures and he thinks that yours are just absolutely incredible. Like with BEN, I think he likes following you around whenever you're out and about taking photos of things, and he always offers to carry any of your equipment for you so he can try and be useful while he's at it. I think while you're taking pictures of whatever your subject matter is, Jeff tries to take pictures of you. He loves how much effort you put into your work, and he likes trying to capture that in a photo, especially if you're surrounded by beautiful scenery while you're out taking photos, and he does start to get better at picture taking while he does this over time. I said in a previous ask that Jeff's stipulation for you taking pictures of him was that you have to be in them too, and while I think that's true for any photos you might share, I think when he trusts you fully that he'd let you use him as a model on the condition only the two of you see the photos. He's so self-conscious of his appearance, but you always praise him and say he looks wonderful, so he does it for you because seeing you happy makes him happy (but if you break your promise to him he will never let you take another photo of him again, so, ya know, keep being extra sweet and good to him). He's always in awe and wonder at your photos, and quite honestly when he sees the photos you take of him he feels like he's looking at someone else with how great they look. He just loves you so much and being a part of your passion makes him feel so honored.

[aikoionic]

I WANNA GROW UP ONCE AGAIN [ L.MK ] : TEASER!

yes it’s based loosely (heavily) on 3 idiots 👽

★彡 In college, you and mark form a strange relationship. (you think) he hates you for competing with him for being the smartest in class, while you’re just trying to get a your degree so your parents don’t marry you off to another rich families son. Years later, an old bet gives you and his two friends a chance to look for your long-lost acquaintance, who’s existence is rather elusive.

engineering major!mark lee x engineering major!reader (fem)

★彡 academic rivals, where tf did mark go after college, readers gettin married, johnny stops a plane, haechan forgets his pants, yuta is annoying, mark is gone. reader is the college headmasters daughter sorry if it isn’t obviously lol

「September 5th, Present Day, Johnny. 」 - You attack my heart, you attack my heart!

“in any case of an emergency landing, there are marked exits on either side of the plane.”

it’s days like these that johnny is reminded of how much his job absolutely sucks. it wasn’t his phobia of planes or the fact that he is thousands of feet up in the air and anything could go wrong at any time, it was the fact that he couldn’t keep any friend/relationships going as he was expected in a new country or city every week. the only thing that’s funded is the plane ride, not his entertainment, and the book infront of his face is no longer a story but instead just a bunch of letters on a page.

he often daydreams about what his life could’ve been like, you know, if he stayed with engineering and didn’t follow his passion of photography. he often thinks about college and all the great memories, along with the bad ones, he often thinks about his old friends. he often thinks about mark. mark was a strange, but a once-in-a-lifetime kind of friend, he always talked about the future and how he would love to go fishing every weekend when everybody was well in their forties. johnny feels stupid for believing that mark was right, that everyone was gonna stay friends forever. he recalls the last time he saw him, graduation. everyone was ecstatic that it was finally over, all the exams, all the stress. exactly one week after he was on a video call with haechan, complaining that mark wasn’t answering his phone. it was another week after that the messages stopped going through, and it was another month before he gave up all hope of ever seeing mark lee again.

“we kindly ask that all passengers put phones and laptops on airplane mode for the duration of this flight to new york, we wish everyone happy trave-“ , johnny feels the vibration of his phone through his pocket and the deafening ringtone follows immediately after. he bought this phone three years ago and still doesn’t know how to turn down that damn ringtone. he smiles apologetically at his neighbouring passenger as they grumpily twist and turn to get comfy again after being awaken.

“hello?”

…

“yeah, this is johnny..”

…

his face drops.

“sir, can you please put the phone away.”

“yeah, yeah, one second, please.”

he looks around frantically, he needs to get off this plane, and it’s not because he’s scared. he hastily unbuckles his seatbelt, he needs to get off this plane. he stands up quickly and wobbles, it’s about to take off.

“sir, please sit down, you could get hurt!” the flight attendant yells at him to be heard over the horribly loud plane engine.

“i-i..” he grasps his chest, trembling as if he’s in pain. all the nearby passengers shoot worried looks at the airline staff.

“i don’t- i nee-“, the plane jolts aggressively and he stumble to the ground, grip still tight on his chest.

an attendant reaches up from her seat to grab the phone next to her.

“captain, there’s is a medical emergency on board, you must stop the plane.”

~

johnny is slumped over in a wheelchair as two members of staff and an on-hand doctor rush through the terminal to get him to the hospital, he looks dead, i mean he hasn’t replied to the staff screaming in his ear to wake up. johnny slowly opens up one of his eyes, his plan worked! he’s off the plane! but how the hell was he supposed to convince the staff he’s fine and is just gonna go look for a taxi to take him home. maybe if he tells them all he needs is some rest? REST? YOU JUST FAKED A HEART ATTACK AND YOU THINK THEY’RE GONNA BELIEVE ALL YOU NEED IS REST?? johnny stops scolding himself and gets to thinking of another plan.

“wait!” suddenly, he jumps up from the wheelchair and puts his hands out to stop them. he breathes deeply a couple times, does a few jumping jacks. what is he trying to prove with this whole performance?

“i’m completely fine now! thank you! you guys carry on, i’ll handle myself from here!”

“sir, wait a minute, you’ve just had a heart atta-“

he ran.

he ran all the way down two escalators, three sets of stairs and out the main entrance. what a shit plan. now he just needs to get home, wait.., he feels around his pockets, where the fuck is his wallet? is he supposed to walk home or something? maybe he should’ve just stayed on the damn plane.

he sees a sign held up by one of the drivers sent for important businessmen, or rich kids who study abroad and get their parents to send them a driver when they come on their annual trip back home, mr. zhong chenle.

“heyy man, long time no see! where’s the car at? i’m super tired!”

“uhh… mr. zhong? is that you?”

“yeah! why, do i look different or something?”

“a lot taller than i remember..”

“growth spurt. now, where’s the car?”

“straight home, sir?” the driver asks after approximately 7 minutes of uninterrupted silence.

“yeah, but go through the downtown first, wanna see it all again, ya know.”

“whatever you say, sir.” the driver sighs, he must’ve never looked at the kids face if he thinks johnny looks anything remotely like a college student anymore. johnny picks up his phone and dials a number he’s dialled about a thousand times.

incoming call, johnny, 12:08pm.

the noise of ruffling bed sheet and pillows fills the room, and a hand groggily slaps the desk to look for their phone without using their eyes.

call accepted

“yeah, johnny, what do you want.” he says while stretching. haechan doesn’t do much on his off days but sleep in until one and play video games. he knows that as soon as he leaves his room his mother is going to give him about fifteen things to do, so he decides to just lock himself up in his room for the weekend.

“get ready in five minutes, i’m coming to pick you up.”

“why, what happened.” there was nothing johnny could say to get him out of his bed.

“yuta called, remember him?”

“yeah, ‘the silencer’” he smirked, the dumb nickname still remembered by the pair even after all these years.

“yeah well, he said that..”

“what, he said what?”

“he said.. that mark’s coming.”

haechan shot up from his bed, making his head rush at the speed.

“WHAT?”

“yeah, he said come to the campus at 1, meet him on the roof.”

he looks at the time on his smartwatch. 12:46pm.

“oh shit..”

“bro, just get ready, fast.”

“yeah, yeah i will!”

he ran toward his bathroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face simultaneously. his sister watched him curiously, confused at why he’s up and out his room at 12.

“listen, i’ll be back soon, tell mom okay?, wait, shoes.” he hastily put his shoes on and wrestled a shirt over his head. “marks back!” he grinned at his sister but she just silently stared at him, biting back a smile.

“wait, but where are you going?”

“just tell mom i’m coming back, okay?”

“‘hyuck, wait!”

“can’t, johnnys here!”

“but you don’t have pants on! donghyuck!”

her shouts fell to deaf ears and haechan raced out the house, looking around for johnnys car. he waved down the car after he saw johnny through the window. the door swung open and haechan jumped in, not even giving it a chance to stop.

“now you want to go home, right, sir?” the driver asked johnny, while haechan was busy tying his laces and trying to contain his excitement.

“yeah but go via the imperial college of engineering.”

“well.. ok sir.”

“ugh, forgot my socks dude!”

“you forgot more that just your socks, hyuck.” he stifles his laughter and points down at haechans legs.

“oh my god..”

the car swerves around a sharp corner and through the gates of the courtyard to the ICE, imperial college of engineering. johnny looks out the window in awe of his old college, which was probably the prime of his life.

the car stops and the boys jump out of the car, johnny goes around to the drivers window.

“thanks so much, now you can go back to the airport and pick up my brother, same last name - zhong!” johnny runs after haechan as he makes his way to the roof entrance.

they sprint up the steps, johnny taking down two at a time, all so that they can see their long-lost friend. they have so much to ask him, where the hell did he go, why’d he stop talking. johnny wanted to slap him and hug him at the same time but haechan just wanted his friend back. they were very close in college, they even shared a dorm room. haechan knows mark didn’t want to cut off contact from them, he knows there was something stopping him.

they make it to the roof right on time, and see yuta standing there with his back to them, staring off into the distance and checking his watch.

“mark?!” johnny completely ignored yuta and instead starts running around the roof after seeing no sign of his friend.

“hey yuta! where’s mark?!” haechan yelled, his eyes looking all around the roof, trying to find him.

yuta smirked and slowly pulled out his phone, still not facing them, waiting for them to realise he isn’t there and come over.

“welcome, guys, long time no see, huh?.” he was dressed up nicely, in a suit with the top button undone, sporting expensive shoes and jewellery, his hair was slicked back, a big difference from the untidy thing he had on his head in college.

“want something to drink?, isn’t this the same beer you guys used to drink up on this roof, late at night?” he forces them to think back to their college days, when they sat upon the roof of the engineering building and drank up to early morning, running to make it to their classes on time, hungover as fuck. he tosses the beer bottle toward haechan and he catches it right before it hits him in the stomach.

“where’s mark.” johnny was getting frustrated now, he stopped his plane with a fake heart attack to be here right now, all for mark.

“patience please, first, i want you guys to look at this.” he holds his phone up close to their faces. a picture of yuta shaking hands with a realtor infront of a big house was on the screen.

“check out that mansion behind me. $3.5 million.” yuta smiled with his teeth while showing off to them both. “swimming pool? heated. living room? oak wood flooring. my new 6496 cc lambourgini.” he swipes through a whole array of pictures showcasing all his luxuries.

you see, mark’s only academic rival wasn’t you, there also was yuta. he was an absolute pain the ass, annoying as fuck but too smart and good-looking for his own good. you, mark and yuta were fighting all year to earn the valedictorian title. always trying to out-do each other with project and homework for a good recommendation from your teacher. of course mark ended up getting it, he was so charming to some of the teachers but so insufferable to others.

“why’re you showing us all this, where’s mark?” haechan interrupted yuta’s spiel about his achievements, demanding to know why he went through all this just for mark to not even be here.

“you don’t remember?” yuta pulls up the date on his phone, the 5th of September.

haechan looked closely at the phone, “yeah that’s todays date, and what?”

yuta smiled and the two then pushed through them, walking up to a part of the wall around the door of the entrance to the roof, that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years, covered in green stuff you could only hope was moss. yuta pulls out a handkerchief from his pocket, kicks over a ladder covering part of the wall, and starts cleaning it.

haechan and johnny following closely behind him, curious to see what his explanation was for this.

there, carved onto the wall, was a date,

Sept 5th

“i bet you. ten years from now, we will meet here. same day, same place! and we will see who’s mor- who’s more successful” yuta slurred as he yelled sternly.

“d’you have the balls?! c’mon, tell me! tell me you’ll come back here!”

“remember now? i made a bet with that idiot right here. i kept my promise, i’m back.”

johnny threw the beer bottle at yuta’s feet and started marching towards him.

“I made my plane land, he forgot his pants, all to meet mark, we’ve searched for five years, we don’t know if he’s alive. but you think he’ll show up for your silly bet?”

“no i knew he wouldn’t.” yuta smiled. “he’s too scared.”

“am i gonna punch him or are you?” johnny turned to haechan then turned on his heel to grab yuta’s shirt. haechan stopped even though he really wanted someone to punch yuta.

“well then why’d you make us come here if it was just a bet between you two?” haechan asked.

“to meet mark.. and to see where i’ve reached and where he is.”

“wait, so you know where mark is?”

yuta slowly started nodding and smiled. “well, yeah.”

“w-where is he?”

“he lives up in the mountains now, probably works in some rich guys house or something.”

johnny and haechan turn to each other and smile, they’re gonna go find their friend.

“[name], are you ready to get the dress?!” your mother screams up the stairs even though you really aren’t that far away.

“yeah mom, just gimme a minute!” it’s been five years since you got your engineering degree. you got a good job, with good money, and a good life. but, something’s always been missing from your life, something that stops you from feeling like everything was worth it. you don’t like to think it, but it’s mark. mark was someone who you hated so much in your first year, you didn’t think you would make it to graduation. your past with mark lee is strange, to say the least. you never want to admit that you found yourself falling for him in your last year. he had you thinking your life was going to be amazing forever, that you would fill the gap that been empty this whole time.

yet, here you are, about to go pick up a dress for a wedding you really, really don’t want to be apart of.

your own.

you see, you thought that getting your degree and showing that you can take care of yourself would bypass the need to get you married off to another wealthy family like yourselves, clearly not as your father doesn’t have a son and needed someone to pass his college down to, it’s been passed down by his father and his father before that and his father bef- you get the point. but they thought the best idea was to get you married. it was supposed to be your sister, but she convinced your parents that they can try again with you after she found a man, an art student, to be precise, to marry instead of your family friends son, doyoung. the same doyoung who is going to be your husband in a few days.

you miss all of you friends and especially mark. maybe you wouldn’t feel so lonely if you had kept messaging mark. a little bit after graduation, you and mark got into a fight, something about him not spending enough time with you. you can barely remember what it was about, so clearly it wasn’t important enough to be the reason your whole life changed. the last message he ever sent you was asking for forgiveness and saying something about how you should leave with him. he said he had something to tell you. but of course, you were stubborn and didn’t even check his messages until a week after and when you tried to reply, you found out he blocked you. you don’t remember his number anymore, even though about six years ago it was one you thought you could never forget.

you think of johnny and haechan. two of the funniest guys you knew. haechan was great to study with and always had a great supply of energy drinks in his bag for those all-nighters. johnny was great for advice and pep talks before big exams, if it wasn’t for him your sure you would’ve pissed yourself during your final.

but, we’re they ever really your friends? mark’s blocked you and nobody knows if he is alive or dead, and johnny and haechan slowly but surely fell out of your grasp, the less and less the phone calls and hangouts got, the more you wanted everything to go back to the way it was. when mark was here.

your phone dings, pulling you out of your trance. it’s your sister, texting you that she’s outside waiting to go dress shopping with you, wedding dress shopping.

your phone reads 2:23pm, September 5th.

a/n : yay this is gonna be really good i hope, also it’s my first kpop fic i’m sorry if it’s bad, the whole fic will be out soon but i don’t have a date. honestly if this flops i might not post it lol. also you will find out why they call him silencer later :)! if you wanna be on my tag list for when this drops just ask :)

BYE 😘

[iocity]

ASL ‘Merica AU where Sabo is a straight A+ to almost failing gifted kid burnout warrior who goes to college for PoliSci (he is a raging socialist and also fucking insane actually, the craziest). He is the student government president on campus when he goes to college, and the Dean HATES HIM; he KEEPS GETTING ELECTED THOUGH. He fucks with the dean PURPOSELY and acts like he has no fucking clue he is driving the poor man insane. He is in for his masters at 21, and despite being quite the important figure on campus (he literally met the governor for lunch and later keyed his car, secretly ofc) he is absolutely unhinged and criminal in his activities. Ace is a delinquent who ONLY gets to stay in school because he makes ok grades (he is a GOD at literally anything crafty or homemaking-y but sucks at school cause unfair skill testing is a state requirement. Sewing, printmaking, art, photography, jewelry making, carpentry, fashion, pottery, stop motion; you name it and Ace is going fucking insane in the studio. He ends up mentoring for welding and jewelry making, and he goes to trade school. Everyone there is surprised at how polite and well-mannered he is cause he dresses like a SLUT. He acts business casual but dresses like he just got back from an LA bender), and Luffy fails miserably at everything but Biology, specifically entomology and ethnobotany, but he is like a child genius in those (his special interests are bugs and food basically, which is also how he ends up meeting Sanji; a quirked up french (he is from Manhattan) boy goated with the sauce, the sauce in question being béchamel). Luffy is a freshman in for… you guessed it! An Entomology and Biology (they did not have ethnobotany; he whined so hard until Sabo threatened to key the Dean’s car, and Ace had to stop them) double major, and the ONLY reason he hasn’t failed out is because he is so freakishly smart at his majors’ classes despite failing every other class. He SUCKS at chemistry and advanced calc though (he needs to pass them for his majors), which is how he ends up getting tutoring from this absolute nerd in highschool (Choppa) and his adoptive dad (Franky). Also Sanji has an even specialer interest than Luffy foodwise and Luffy really admires him because of that.

Masterlist!

[eiightysixbaby]

Popular girl x Jonathan concept is making me spiral. Like just imagine some Hawkins High girl (more popular than Nancy) absolutely sick with lust for him and going crazy about it! Every time she flirts with him he has no idea she’s flirting so he’s just super confused and sarcastic with her because he feels like she’s talking to him as a joke.

Then finally she gets fed up and corners him in the dark room and sucks him off and ohhh boyy he is flustered 🥵🥵

ohhhh my god

he absolutely wouldn’t catch on and he’d have his defenses raised high, not wanting to be the unfortunate butt of some joke.

but then he starts to get a little confused, because you (miss popular) are talking to him like, any chance you can. you’re lending him a pencil in class when he can’t find his, you’re approaching him at his locker between periods, you’re waving at him in the cafeteria. you’ll compliment his photography, you’ll touch his arm gently — not wanted to cross too many boundaries, but giving him just enough physical affection to hopefully give him the hint.

but yeah, his brain just… refuses to let him believe you’re into him. he shuts that thought down if it does cross his mind.

until you slip into the dark room when you know he’s in there, and he’s surprised to see you because you don’t take photography, and then you’re getting really close to him and he feels like there isn’t enough air in the room and wow, you’re really pretty. like he always acknowledged that you were attractive but you’re gorgeous.

and when you ask him if it’s okay if you can kiss him he feels like he has to be dreaming, like maybe he passed out and this is all a daze. but then you are kissing him and he’s losing it and then one thing leads to another and you’re getting on your knees for him right there in the fucking dark room.

he feels like his face has to be bright red, but thank god you can’t tell with the red light in the room. he’s trying so hard to keep quiet as you take him into your mouth but it’s so hard when you do it so well. he’s cumming down your throat soon enough and when he realizes that you swallow it all he just looks down at you in awe. he’s gripping onto a countertop in the room to keep himself steady, and he’s barely present as you slip your phone number on a piece of paper into his jacket pocket.

[jacenotjason]

Remember that Highschool Bully AU I was talking about? Well here’s what i wanna do:

Scraping the idea of Julie running a hate blog online, changing it! She’s head cheerleader lol! She pretends to be nice to the teachers and such, but to the other *students shes vile!! Shes like two different people depending on if a teacher is present.

Frank is also a suck up to the teachers. He’s the best student in every class, top in grades and everything!! >:D! He’s the president of the photography club, which gives him an excuse to carry a camera everywhere. He uses it to snap embarrassing photos of people and get them into the newspaper, speaking of!

Eddie runs the newspaper club! He also pretends to be a sweetheart the teachers, but also posts the embarrassing photos of people in the paper and rumors n such >:3c he and Frank work together to make ppls life miserable, couple goals

Sally is the president of the Drama club! She’s incredibly authoritative and has an absolute power trip every day in the club. If she doesnt like you, you’re not getting a good role. If you have a good role, cherish it! The second you say something against Sally or any of her friends, shes recasting you. She regularly gives people embarrassing and unnecessary roles just to humiliate them. Like a tree or… grass lmao

Howdy is the mythic bitch here, the scariest guy >:D he’s the tallest strongest guy yknow, a jock! Star player! Bc yknow.. 8 feet tall and 4 arms. Bc hes so big and scary n such he regularly steals from ppl and they cant really do anything about it. He jsut picks people up and throws them, grabs backpacks and kicks people out of them, throws ppl in trash cans and locks them in like everything. Hes mean as fuck.

Barnaby is also on the.. sports team.. but hes not as good as Howdy. Hes a jokester but his jokes are always at the expense of others and normally goes too far. He doenst shake ppl up as much as Howdy does, but he watches and laughs, and Frank records sometimes

Remember when I said I scrapped Julies hate blog? I actually gave it to Poppy! She’s too shy to be mean in real life, and instead hides behind a screen. Her blog is called “Ann Onumouys” (pronounced anonymous lol). Pretty much everyone knows its her, but the teachers turn a blind eye… >.>

Now.. Wally. Wally is pretty much the same lil guy :3 he still hangs out with them all, and theyre all genuinely friends! Hes like their little nice mascot! He doesnt understand that they bully ppl- hes also the reason they dont get in trouble.

Home is the principal and also Wallys guardian! Home is fully aware that Wallys friends bully others, but he will not expel or suspend or anything, bc his friends keep him calm and happy. So he just.. turns a blind eye so that they continue to make Wally happy.

I think thats all I got! I might draw this after work :3

[hwalilac]

Disobedience

⇴ pairing: professor!jung wooyoung x student!f!reader

⇴ genre: smut

⇴ words: 1.9k

⇴ warnings: power imbalance, protected

⇴ a/n: feedback is accepted and welcome, I’d love to hear your thoughts on my work! if you’d like to be on my taglist, lmk. if you’d like to see more of my work, check out my masterlist!

⇴ tags: @hyuckilstan @star1117-archives @whatudowhennooneseesyou @jwnghyuns @az-con

Photography class starts in 5 minutes and unfortunately you’re on the other side of the campus, in the parking lot. Which sucks, because the parking lot is 10 minutes away from your class. And just your luck, it’s the first day of the new semester, which means you don’t know who the fuck you’re dealing with.

By the time you get in front of the oak wood door, your hair is disheveled and your legs are about to collapse from the long run. You try to fix yourself, before deciding you’re just wasting time. The door painfully squeaks open, almost making you just want to slam it closed and make a run for it, but it’s too late. Everyone already has their eyes on you.

Some whisper to one another, some giggle, and some roll their eyes. Your chest tightens in embarrassment. The abrupt sound of an “ahem” makes your head snap over to the front desk. You’re quite taken aback at the sight. A young man, probably only a few years older than you, standing at the front of the room. The teacher, no doubt, by the way he is dressed.

You feel frozen, almost stuck there, just staring at his beautiful face. But once the annoyance in his face sets in, you realize it’s time to sit down. You sheepishly let out a “sorry”, before heading to take an empty seat in the first row. You don’t usually sit in the front, but with just a quick glance you could tell the back was filled. You quietly sit down, hoping he’ll just let it go.

“Just a reminder to everyone: get here on time, you will be missing important information for this lesson and there will be no retakes”, he loudly remarks, making sure to glance at you. Great. Now he’s called you out. Your cheeks turn a scarlet red, but you make sure not to let him see, turning your face down to your computer.

The class continues, as he goes through the syllabus. Thankfully the rest of the day goes smoothly, and he doesn’t say a word to you. At least you hope that’s a good thing. You did come to find out his name though: Jung Wooyoung. You want to say it’s an ugly name and it’s unfitting, and yet it’s perfect, especially for him. You can’t help but admire him throughout the period, almost drooling at certain moments. You hope he doesn’t notice.

Once class is over, you scurry out the door, making sure to not spare a single glance in his direction. The embarrassment of him calling you out is enough to make you already dread this class. Not only because you practically got yelled at, but because he’s so god damn hot. You find yourself thinking about him the entire day, your daydreaming consuming your mind.

You didn’t have any more classes today, so you decided to go back to your apartment for a nap. You hope the next time you have this class, it’ll go much smoother. There’s nothing more embarrassing than having the entire class whisper about you and the teacher being disappointed in you.

The next few days of classes go great, making you ready to deal with the second day of your photography class with Jung Wooyoung. Except here’s the bad news: there was traffic on the way there. You honestly almost cried while sitting in it, knowing you’d be late once again. There’s absolutely no way this could be happening to you yet again. And yet… it is.

By the time you get there you’re already 13 minutes late, and you still have to run 10 minutes to class. You make it in 8 minutes, but it doesn’t help. You honestly feel like breaking down, but instead, you open the door and march right in, headed to your seat. This time you don’t even spare a glance at him, hoping again that he’ll just let it go.

The class is dead silent, waiting for him to say something about your late arrival. He stands there for a second, staring down at his computer, before continuing class. You breathe out a sigh of relief, silently thanking him for not saying anything. It’s not until the end of class that you realize he didn’t let you off the hook.

As soon as you heard his statement “Class dismissed”, you immediately got up to leave, but was stopped by his booming voice. “Y/n, please stay back.” Your blood ran cold, stopping right in your tracks. You look to the front of the class, seeing him waiting with such an intimidating aura. His eye brow slightly raised, as if telling you to hurry it up and get over there.

As the rest of the class left, some staring at you on their way out, you headed over to his desk. Once his door was closed, he took a deep sigh, before beginning his spiel. “It’s the second day of class and you were late again,” he says with slight irritation in his voice. The tone makes you practically shrink down, wincing at his attitude. There’s nothing you hate more than a teacher that hates you. At least, you think he hates you.

You immediately rush to excuse yourself, holding onto the possibility that he will understand. “Mr. Jung, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to be late.” But he doesn’t budge, only standing there with his incredibly well plucked eyebrow raised at you. “I don’t know, Miss L/n. How do I know this won’t happen again? I surely don’t want to kick you out.” You stand in silence, desperately trying to find an answer to his question.

“I-… I don’t know,” you say, completely defeated. You can’t help traffic or abrupt problems, he surely knows that. “Tsk, how disappointing.” He turned around, most likely headed back to his desk. And so he does, sitting down in his new brown leather chair. But he’s still looking at you, head tilted sideways. And then his eyes darken, a sly smirk painting his lips.

Confusion crosses your face, not sure what’s going on. “Ah Y/n, there might be a way to get out of trouble…”, he claims, before signaling you to step in front of him behind his desk. You think you know where this is going, and one part of you is worried, the other part doesn’t care. You slowly move towards him, his eyes scanning every inch of your body as you do. You can’t say you don’t want him. That would be a lie.

You both communicate exactly what you want through your eyes. There’s lust in his eyes, that, you can tell. Once you stand in front of him, his hand comes up to your hip, lightly squeezing it. He doesn’t make any moves, just watching every curve of your body. Finally he meets your eyes, “Are you sure you want this?” Yesterday, if this happened, you wouldn't have said no. That would be crazy. But something about him pulls you in.

“Yes,” you seal the deal immediately, knowing without a doubt that you want him. He quickly stands up, taking you aback. Before you can react, he turns you around and pushes you against his crowded desk. You land on some pens, pencils, and papers. Obviously, he doesn’t mind though. Immediately his hips are against yours, pressing you further into the table.

There’s something about this position, your ass being fully displayed for him, that gets you so wet. He doesn’t keep you waiting, yanking down your skirt to the ground, along with your panties. There’s a sharp inhale behind you, almost making you worried. But as soon as his cold fingers slid through your wetness, you knew he saw exactly what had happened inside your panties. You were soaked.

It only took about 5 seconds for him to plunge two of his fingers into your cunt. And damn did he love the way you were sucking him in. “What a greedy little pussy, holding onto me so tight.” You couldn’t help the loud moan you let out, the feeling of his curling fingers already making you want more. There’s no way you would last long. “What do you want, baby? Tell me.” The teasing tone in his voice makes you unsure if he’s actually going to give you what you want. But you tell him nonetheless.

“Please sir… your cock.” You thought it would take more than that, maybe some begging or giving him head. But no, he caved in right away. You felt his hips leave yours, before the sound of his belt being unbuckled filled the room. He was soon reaching into one of his drawers, pulling out a shiny wrapper. Thank god he was smart enough to use protection. He rolled the condom on, wasting no time before lining himself up. There’s no way you would’ve survived another second without him inside you.

He was thick, making you groan at the stretch. Once he was all the way in, your hands unclenched the front of the desk. Honestly, you didn’t know if you could handle him. He was already stretching you off so much. Thankfully, he started out slow, slowly dragging his hips backwards. He wasn’t very long, but that made it more enjoyable. After a few thrusts, you finally broke, “Faster.” But he stopped. Immediately your head lifted from the desk.

You looked back at him, only for him to snap his hips back into you at that second. Your eyes widened, making him chuckle in response. “Isn’t this what you wanted, baby?”, his thrusts were punishing, making your eyes roll back in your head. “Didn’t you want me to fuck you senseless? Isn’t that why you keep staring at me in class?” Not a single word could make it out of your mouth, too busy fighting off the warmth building in your stomach.

You know he feels it, you clenching down on him with every thrust. So he brings his middle finger down to your clit, rubbing tight circles into the sensitive bud. You try to hold on, but it’s too much. The orgasm itself was so powerful that nothing even came out of your mouth, only sat wide open in a silent moan. Your eyes were shut so tight it almost hurt. And your cunt clenched down on him so hard that it triggered his orgasm.

Everything went blank for a good minute, you being too exhausted to even move. That had to be the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Once you hear the chair move, you finally noticed he was still there. Both your panting filled the silence. It only took a couple of minutes for the harsh breaths to subside. You were only left with your tired body and him in his chair, both of you still painfully naked.

Carefully, you moved around, collecting your clothes and dressing again. He followed suit, just in case anyone joined the party. There was an awkward silence hanging over you two. Finally you decided to just leave, hoping to just escape and not deal with the conversation around what the fuck just happened. But before you can leave, he says, “Don’t be late for class next time, Y/n. You don’t want this to happen again, do you?”, you turn back to see his charming wink. Maybe next time you’ll just have to be late again, you smile to yourself.

I do not give permission for anyone to repost my work

[the-goya-jerker]

📸👄What's your opinion on the Czech photographer Jan Saudek? His works may be a bit too on the nose (erotic and dark right off the bat), but I couldn't resist the chance to plug one of my faves.

(Emojis so I find this again.)

Honestly, there's no shame in being on the nose. There's plenty of room for that in erotic art. I think most erotic art you encounter is pretty on the nose. I do think Saudek's works have more subtlety than your average erotica novel or boudoir shoot, though.

I'll probably avoid putting many of his photographs in this review since a great deal of them contain nudity. I do encourage everyone to look up his work though.

I want to say that I do deeply appreciate his overall use of less common forms of sexuality. The photograph of the woman sucking her own toe, or Homage to Marilyn M. which contains a woman pissing. He also includes a great deal of "unconventional" bodies (read: totally normal and common bodies that you don't see as often in erotic photography). Oh! What a Wondrous World of Mass Media and how it depicts a fat woman just the same as he depicts anyone else. Or the loving way the woman in Sarah is depicted, flexing her muscles and sucking in her stomach to such a degree. I do enjoy that.

The color palette of his photographs is lovely too, warm and pastel all at once. I think this sets a more erotic scene, color is very important for these things. I also enjoy how he plays with gender with pieces like Barbara as a Rocker and as the Gurl or the two pieces of individuals in ballet shoes. (I couldn't find the name of these two.)

However, I do want to raise that it can be difficult to rate an artist's whole catalogue. I encountered a number of Saudek's works that depict children partially nude. I am making no judgement calls on this as I do not know much about these photographs but, obviously, I do not think of these as erotic.

My three favorite pieces of his, however, are Deep Devotion (I do find devotion to be an alluring thing. I am not immune to whatever Chretien de Troyes was putting in the water), Desire (yeah, that's just how that feels), and my absolute favorite:

Not only is it one of the few I can post, but I adore it! Despite being terribly on the nose, I enjoy the warm brown background, the bright colors of her hair, her hat, and her makeup. I enjoy how her softness contrasts against the dark, hard metal of the gun. And you know, sucking dick is really hot. The danger of sucking a gun? That's even hotter.

For the sake of giving a rating, I give the above piece an 8/10.

[strawberryfairi]

Synopsis✨: The story of how you catch heavy feelings for the hot photography student, Shuji Hanma…even though you already have the perfect (fake) boyfriend.

Pairings: Photography Student! Shuji Hanma X Dance Major! Black Fem 🤎 Reader (ANYONE CAN READ🧚🏾‍♀️) Content: Drama, lots of denial, angst, sneaky link, lots of cheating, mutual pining, unserious Shuji, controlling parents, forced relationships, romance, fighting, porn with a good plot vibes, intense sexual tension, etc (just find out the rest lol)

(A/N🧚🏾‍♀️: First chapter might be a lil boring, but the tea begins in chapter 2)

w.c: 4.4k💠 Released: Jan 5, 2024

Next Chapter Chapters Masterlist

1; HOMECOMING 返校

It's homecoming today. One of the most stressful but most exciting days in the entire school year. It serves as a debut of both the cheerleading and dance teams, and of course the football team. In your case, today will be your first homecoming as dance team captain and choreographer.

Your freshman year was grueling, but you dedicated almost all of your time and energy into forming a proper dance team with high respect and credibility with the help of your good friend from senior year in high school, Emma Sano. Now, in your sophomore year, the grind absolutely did not stop. You have a team full of twenty girls (including yourself and Emma) to lead, and today will prove to be the hardest list of tasks you've ever checked through so far in your life.

"Mornin' baby." Your boyfriend Ken murmurs groggily, leaning over you to gently kiss your warm cheek. You're both snuggled up together in his dorm suite bed, as you had stayed the night in his room per his request. You smile tiredly, turning over to face him. "Morning."

The two of you have been together for quite some time now, a good two years and eight months. Though those years may seem significant or like a milestone, the relationship has always been stagnant. A boring, straight line. You're boyfriend is sweet, kind, mostly all of the above, yet he's just...never really been right for you. Why not break up?

Well, your parents are the ones keeping you both from leaving each other. Your mom, a part of the administration of the university, and Ken's father, the football coach, famous for cultivating champion players that later move on to the NFL in the states by senior year came together with the plan for you two to date.

Why not just do your own thing and date who you want? Your mom had made it clear that if you don't keep up the charade of the perfect college girl with great grades and a boyfriend with a great future, you'd be out of the school in a heartbeat, and out of dance for good. She says you need to be perfect in every way in order to gain success, especially as a dancer, and being already in a relationship will keep you from getting distracted by other guys during your four years.

Same goes with Ken and what his dad told him. In their pursuit of star students they went and 'hooked you two up', completely ruining what could have been a good friendship and maybe even relationship had they not rushed it. But honestly, it's not the utter worst being with Ken, though you wish you had a say in the kind of guy you wanted for yourself. It's hard having to force out a genuine sounding 'I love you' every day, and especially, have sex with someone you don't even feel anything for. Nevertheless, the two of you equally sucked it up and learned to 'love' each other.

"Big day today. You ready?" Ken grins, looking down at you with an excited smile.

"Nooooo." You groan, pulling the blankets over your head and snuggling up close to Ken's chest.

"Nah, don't say that! This is our big moment; been workin' hard for this." He shakes his head, tugging the sheets off of your head.

"I'm so nervous, and it's gonna be so hard trynna get the girls focused. You know all people think about is sex and the afterparties on homecoming." You frown.

"You're a leader, babe, they'll listen to you. It's just as important for them as it is for you. They'll tighten up when it's game time." Ken assures, stroking your bare shoulders comfortingly. You sigh, trying to bask in this moment of peace before the chaos inevitably ensues.

"Did you know I was approach by those school newspaper folks you always rant about yesterday? Allegedly, I'll be interviewed today since this is such a 'pivotal moment for the university, as the first ever dance team will be involved in the homecoming night experience'." You chuckle, doing a faux reporter voice.

"Oohh shit, they got you too, huh?" He lets out a breathy chuckle, flipping over onto his back, taking you along with him to rest on his chest.

"They sure did. At least I know what I'm getting into thanks to you, Mr. Quarterback. Maybe I'll see you at the interview room?"

"Maybe, depending on what time they want us there. We got interviews at ten a.m." He shrugs.

You pout with a light huff. "Awww, ours isn't till one."

"We'll see each other tonight, baby. We'll have the whole night actually." He purrs suggestively, sliding both hands down your back and giving your ass a firm squeeze.

"Hey hey hey! None of that till later!" You giggle, pushing away form him to try and get out of his tight grip.

"Can't wait..." He grins.

💎

Interviewer: "Can you discuss your vision for the team's performance at homecoming? What elements or themes do you plan to incorporate?"

"Considering it's the first year, how do you plan to make the performance memorable and reflective of the team's identity?"

"As a new dance team captain, how will you inspire and motivate your teammates, especially considering the excitement and nerves associated with a debut performance?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"They threw out all kinds of questions I wasn't ready to answer!" You rant into the phone, plopping down onto the chair outside of the interview room.

"I told you. It's intense ain't it?" Ken chuckles on the other side.

"Yeah! I feel like they should've at least done like a pre-interview or a practice run. It was so hard trynna answer those questions right on the spot like that!" You whine, facepalming. You take a deep breath then exhale, calming yourself down so you wouldn't annoy Ken with a bunch of ranting.

"Ugh, sorry, I don't mean to throw you off. I know you're getting ready too. How's everything going?"

"I'm all good, babe. I just wanna get on the field already." He murmurs.

"Facts. That's exactly how I'm feeling. It's gonna feel amazing once it's all over." You nod, fiddling with your top unconsciously. You hear the coach yell out to Ken from in the background, urging him back.

"Hang on, I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, alright? Love you." He says abruptly.

"Oh ok. Love you!" You hang up with a little sigh, getting ready to go over into the next section of the day. Just a few more hours now until the game starts.

4 Hours Later

"GUYS!" One of your freshman girls, Himari hollered, bursting through the doors to the dance team dressing room. You and all the others who heard her paused your conversations, looking at her with the same confused expression.

"What's going on now, Himari?" You huffed with an exasperated sigh. You loved her, you really did, but damn she's always got something going on.

"My body glitter just broke and spilled all over the bathroom floor! I hate my life!" She wailed, slumping against the door behind her, sliding down dramatically.

"Oh shit..." You murmur with a heavy facepalm. The girls all gasp, rambling about how they'd be so pissed if that happened to them. You'd be pissed too not gonna lie, if your expensive ass Fenty Glow broke like that...oof, you'd be seething.

"Just like..lay some paper towels down over it or something until we can find someone to clean it." Emma tells her, putting her focus back on the final touches of her makeup. You didn't have time to solve not another issue, thankfully that was easily solved as one of the girls Reina just let her use some of her body glitter.

You're only half dressed right now and still need to do your makeup and hair with only forty five minutes left. Nude tights with your elastic ankle braces was all you had on, you're not eve sure if that could really count as half dressed. Hurriedly you strip out of your school hoodie, chest completely bare as you grab your costume tagged with your name from the long clothing rack.

The costume this year was ten thousand times better than last years, as this time you were able to utilize design student Takashi Mitsuya from the university across the way from yours. He absolutely slayed the outfits, bringing out exactly what you were imagining. Your school colors are black, white, and silver, so the main color of the costume is a shiny black with accents of silver. It's a bodysuit, long sleeved with the silver as sequins on the cuffs of the arms, neck, and around the legs. A large cut out on the left side of the stomach area is also outlined with the silver sequins. Simple, yet such an effective, sexy design.

When you finished changing you quickly got to work doing your makeup, sprawling your products out on the table next to Emma and plopping down into a seat, whipping out your beauty blender and brushes.

"Easy girl. We still have some time. You know you move fast." She says softly, checking out her makeup in the vanity. "I know, I know. I'll just feel better once I'm ready." You huff, priming your face before pumping some drops of foundation on your beauty blender.

For makeup everyone has a silver lid eyeshadow look with black winged eyeliner and small jewels lined across the liner, topped off with a nude pink lip. Your hair was simple, an afro that you picked out nice and big, your bangs slicked down like a headband so you could see while you dance.

After a bit over half an hour you along with all the girls were finally ready.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright y'all, when we get out there, it's complete focus. Lock the fuck in." You warn, tone dead serious. You and your team are huddled in a large circle near the entrance to the wide football field. It was almost time for your performance.

"Freshmen, bring your absolute A-game, y'all hear me?"

"Yes ma'am!" The answer back instantly.

"Now, it's time to stunt on those cheerleaders, okaaaay!" You beam, smiling wide enough to show off your single dimple on your left cheek. The girls cheered, laughing and making their little jokes and jabs at the cheerleaders.

The dance team vs. cheerleader rivalry had been going on ever since you started this program. Of course, the cheerleaders were always the number one attraction during homecoming and all other sports games, but now that you all came along, it's actually some competition for them. It boosts you up every time seeing them get flustered and annoyed when your girls and you steal the show. It's especially bad when the boys get involved.

"Let's line up!" You command, beginning the line while watching all the girls get into position behind you.

The announcer finally acknowledges the dance team, giving the queue for the lights to turn off throughout the stadium. The crowd hoots and hollers as the field goes black, save for the phone lights and moon shining down brightly.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself and rapid heartbeat, strutting out onto the field already in 'character'. The girls follow behind you, all getting into your practiced formation, waiting for the music and lights to come on.

After the thirty second time frame is up, the music begins, starting with the newest hit by Nicki Minaj: Everybody. Lights come on right when you all strike the first pose, making the crowd go wild.

~Aint' gang if you let shit slide Ain't bad if you gotta dick-ride Big guns and a lotta zip ties Said she look like me, quit lyin'~

You begin dancing, a little solo moment during the intro as the girls hold their pose. When the beat drops the girls join in, all of you going full out. The energy is so high all throughout the stadium, just how you want it. Some folks in the stands along with the football players on your side were dancing along excitedly. So far it's a hit.

3rd Person POV

Shuji's canon camera snapped shot after shot, taking skillful, clear pictures of the dancers in front of him. This was a pretty big opportunity, seeing as only the top students are allowed to photograph for events like homecoming and school newspaper posts, important things like that.

He didn't necessarily consider himself a 'good student', he honestly wasn't, yet the faculty couldn't help but acknowledge his talent as a photographer, so they gave him this chance.

He'd deliver though, and turn up with better pictures than the three other students out here snapping away half-assed, hoping for a couple nice shots out of nearly a hundred. They don't know how to wait, but Shuji does. He has a natural talent for patience when it comes to finding the right moment. It's like he can see it coming, then he freezes time, capturing it in perfect quality and light.

Looking through the viewfinder, he adjusts the lens, preparing for a shot right on the soloist. Waiting a few seconds he watches her dance, capturing the exact moment he was waiting for. She spins then stops in the perfect pose, one hand on her hip while the other arm is extended outward, her hand in an elegant gesture. Her leg is extended a bit with her arm, the ball of her foot on the ground giving her leg a slight bend.

His brows raise slightly as he looks up from the camera.

Her solo continues for just a bit longer before the other girls join, but for some reason, Shuji's eyes are still stuck on that one girl. He takes a moment trying to figure out what exactly about her made him react like that. She's a great dancer for sure, her movements fluid, exact, and graceful; sexy. But that's to be expected of an aspiring professional. Maybe it's her overall look, deep brown skin, big hair, and a gorgeous toned body. She's a sight, something interesting enough to catch his attention.

He goes back and forth, watching then snapping, watching then snapping. Then the girl spins once again, this time bringing her left leg into the air. It felt like slow motion what happened to him. Her anklet, looking as if it practically slid off her small ankle, flies right towards him just a few feet away from her. Instinctively he catches it with one hand, the other steadily holding the camera.

It's a gold anklet, real gold it seems. A chain with little designs carved into it. A light smirk makes it's way onto his lips as he places the piece of jewelry into his pocket.

Reader's POV

The dance routine lasted a grand total of twenty minutes, full halftime, and by the end you all were rushing with adrenaline. There wasn't a single mistake, and the stands were hyped. You couldn't help but smile as you all gracefully walked off the field and onto your designated spot on the bleachers, the section to the left of the cheerleaders.

The main event for the dance team was over, and it felt like a huge weight had come off your shoulders. You inwardly thank God that everything went better than you'd imagined from morning to now. All that's left is your short routines throughout the game, similar to what cheerleaders do, just without all the pep and bows.

Now you could officially pay attention to the game, and your boyfriend as the night went on. Apparently, your school the Jaguars had started out losing to the Kings, at a four point deficit until they started catching up. They'd officially surpassed the Kings just minutes before your performance.

There's a clean cut negativity that wafts over to your side of the bleachers whenever you and the girls do your routine coming right from the cheerleader side.

They have a captain as well, an upperclassman named Cho. She's a junior, and a bitch. You remember spending your first semester trying to become her friend for a while, but for some reason that you no longer care to worry about, she just never liked you. Her attitude whenever you spoke to her was ridiculous, so after a while you just stopped.

It was childish to you, the whole dance team vs. cheerleader rivalry, but it's how it just has to be apparently. There's no option of peace and being friends, so if they want to start shit you and your girls will be the ones to shut it down with poise. You knew why Cho was so mad right now, giving you her best side eye as you danced.

The cheerleaders didn't get as big of a spotlight this year seeing as the halftime show was dedicated to your choreography. Cameras and eyes were all pointed to the dancers, only occasionally turning to snap some pictures of the girls routines.

Did you feel bad? Hell no. You worked way too hard to be pressed about some hatin' ass girls in the back.

The game lasted another hour and about a half until it was finally over, a win for the Jaguars! The crowd was going insane, all the players huddled on top of each other in a pile, smiles everywhere. You felt like you were in a movie. The day was finally over, for both you and Ken. When the huddle broke up you hopped over the bleachers and past folks cheering, Ken unsuspecting as his back was towards you.

"Aaaaahhh!" You squeal excitedly, jumping up and wrapping your arms around him from behind. Ken makes a noise of shock before he realizes it's you, turning around and hoisting you up in his arms. Without a word the two of you kiss, completely blocking out the rest of the world.

Your hands cup his sweaty face as you continue, putting all your energy into it to show how proud you were. It's moments like these where your relationship actually feels real. Sharing a large accomplishment together, kissing publicly as a means of showing each other just how happy you both were.

Ken pulls away, setting you back down on the ground with a wide, beaming smile. "We did it babe!"

One of Kenny's teammates rather obnoxiously breaks your little moment up before you could even speak. "We gotta celebrate, man! Let's get to that party!"

Ohhh yes, the party...

Honestly, you weren't really in the mood for any parties, not after all the work you had to do today. If you could have it your way, you'd be chilling out in either yours or Ken's dorm room, having a special, intimate night with just each other. But he really wasn't that kind of guy. When the people need him, he shows up, and after something a huge as homecoming, he'd for sure be getting wasted tonight.

"Imma go and get changed and stuff now, K? I'll meet you out here unless you're gonna head to the party with the boys?" You tilt your head to the side.

"Nah, I'll wait for you." He shakes his head, giving you a peck on the forehead before you run off into the changing room.

As you make your way down the hall towards the dressing rooms for cheerleaders and dancers, it's nothing but hollering and cheers same as outside. You shake your head with a grin, pushing open the doors to the dressing room.

"WOOOOOOOO!"

A good seven of your girls cheer as you walk inside. You all do a little celebratory dance together, posting on each of your instagram stories as well as the dance teams insta page that you run.

"I just wanted to say on behalf of all of us that we're so proud of you and all the work you've been putting in since last year. We wouldn't have been able to pull off such an amazing performance without you and your creativity." Emma says with a proud smile. Your heartstrings pull and tighten at her sweet, heartfelt words.

"Ugh, stooop!" You whine, pouting your bottom lip out.

"No it's true! We love you so much, and we're so glad to have you as captain. You're so hardworking and always want the best for us; you're the best." Himari chimes in, placing a hand on her chest as she starts to tear up.

"Y'all...I don't even know what to say. That is just so sweet. I love y'all so much. I wouldn't even have my dance team dream come true without y'all joining and supporting me in the first place. So really I should be thankin' y'all." You sniffle, vision blurring from the tears pooling in your eyes.

"Wait! We absolute cannot cry this makeup off!" Emma outbursts, making you all laugh in response. She was right though, not only was our makeup bomb, but it also took forever and a lot of work to do. No crying tonight!

You all break up the sappy moment, going and getting semi changed for the afterparty. It was a frat party, so it was gonna be huge. Not only would the football players be there, but the basketball and soccer boys would pull up too. As you grab your sweatpants, you freeze just before you could step in with your left leg.

Something was wrong, your gold anklet was missing.

You distinctly remember putting it on before the show. This anklet was special to you, it being  something that your mom gave you as a fourteenth birthday gift. It's real gold with intricate designs in the chain, simple but elegant, and beautiful. You wear it for every performance, almost like a good luck charm even though jewelry isn't advised.

You gasp, searching all over your little area, the clothing rack, and even Emma's stuff which is sat next to yours.

"Guys!" You call out. Everyone turns to you, confusion on their faces.

"Have you seen a gold anklet around? It's just a simple gold chain." You add, your tone worried as you frantically start searching through everyone's things.

"An anklet? I haven't seen anything." Is all that goes around as the girls help you search in confusion.

"No no no." You repeat to yourself, feeling tears start to prickle in your eyes all over again. It couldn't be gone, it just couldn't.

"Don't worry, just try to backtrack, ok? When did you last see it?" Emma asks, coming over to your side and helping you look.

"I remember puttin' it on before the game. I know for a fact I was wearing it." You shake your head, still rummaging around.

"It might've come off at some point during the game..." She says.

"No, not on that big ass field, it could be anywhere! What if someone stepped on it?!" You ramble, getting all worked up and upset all over again. Emma gives you an apologetic look, unsure herself really of what to say or do to make you feel better about this. You both knew it was highly likely lost in the sauce, trying to find that thing out there is like searching for a needle in a haystack.

"I'm sorry girl." She says softly, placing a hand on your arm comfortingly. You let out a frustrated sigh, going back to putting your sweatpants on. Now you really weren't in the mood for this stupid afterparty.

You finish changing, packing all of your things into your Nike duffel bag lazily. "I'm heading out to the party with Ken, I'll see y'all." You call out to the girls still in the changing room. You all share quick goodbyes as you head out.

Standing in the hallway you take a second, looking out at the opening to the field one more time. You really loved that anklet, and hoped maybe it just came off while you were at the bleachers. If it fell off there, it may be a good chance it's still in the same spot..?

You purse your lips, brows furrowed as you decide to go and search. Deep down you had a feeling it wasn't going to be there, but you were hopeful that maybe that feeling was wrong. You run out passed the people still left chatting on the field and some of the bleachers. It had quieted down faster than you'd thought it would, everyone probably already heading home or to the afterparty. You make it over to the bleachers you'd been sitting at, placing your duffel bag down as you search the entire row along with the ones above and below it.

Nothing. No sign of your anklet at all.

With a defeated sigh you plop down on the bleachers, facepalming as you take in the loss of your special piece of jewelry. Now that you were still, you finally noticed your phone buzzing over and over in your sweatpants pocket.

It was like every app was screaming at you for attention at the same time. Instagram, Imessage, Snapchat, Twitter, the list went on. Opting for Imessage first, you look at all the texts you have.

Best Friend #1👩🏾‍🤝‍👨🏻 GET UR AZZ TO THIS PARTY LIL GIRL😤!! I need somebody to get sturdy wit

Y/N💜 I AIN'T NO LIL GIRL LIL BOY😤 Imma be there soon

Best Friend #1👩🏾‍🤝‍👨🏻 U trynna pick me up some fireballs👀🫦🙏🏼??

Y/N💜 🙄Bye Kei...

You loved Keisuke, he's like an annoying older brother to you, and always finds a way to make you smile, though you two don't talk too often.

Emmy's🩵 Hey so my brothers are actually taking me out to dinner tonight so I won't be at the party🥺. Have fun with Ryugujiiiiii😈

Aw damn, Emma won't even be at the party?! You frown a bit but understand. Her brothers love her like crazy so it made sense they'd wanna take her out to celebrate. You send a quick "Awww that's so sweet! I'll see you later girl" and exit out of the chat with her, finally looking at everything Ken sent.

Big K💖 Wya? Been waitin for a while

Big K💖 U comin?

Big K💖 The guys are pressing me

Big K💖 We're leavin now

Your jaw drops as you reread the last text. He just left without you?! Is he serious?! He was supposed to be your ride! Emma and the other girls had already left, and Emma's not even going to the party anymore. Immediately you open up your chat with Keisuke again.

Y/N💜 Bro... Why Kenny leave me😐

You didn't expect him to respond since he's at the party but you went and sent the texts anyways. Now you'd have to go and put your duffel bag back in your dorm then Uber all the way to the frat part. Ridiculous...

A/N 🧚🏾‍♀️: Y'all don't understand how excited I am about this story! Also, having Keisuke Baji as your best friend is just chef's kiss in my opinion, like, I did my big one with that! But yes anyways, so excited about this, definitely put my whole coochie in this story y'all so like eat it up! Like, comment, reblog for sure. See you in the next chapter💖✨

P.S.: I'll have the next chapter soon (I don't really have a schedule yet for updates but if you guys really like it then I'll prioritize)

[7-wonders]

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

Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 5.5k

Notes: Thank you guys so so so much for being patient with me as I dealt with one of the worst months I've ever been through, as well as your sweet messages. I cannot thank you enough for your support. I can only hope that, amidst the grief and the stress, this makes some sort of sense.

Let me know your thoughts! Feedback is always appreciated, likes, comments, and reblogs keep me going and make me happy, and my inbox is always open to chat about whatever!

Part One of Two

“...and for some reason, instead of choosing fight or flight, my body chose fight and flight.”

“Oh, no!”

“Oh, yes. So anyways, that’s how I got a five-year ban from the biggest haunted house in the city.” The man sitting across from you finishes telling his riot of a story about when he punched an actor playing Michael Myers in the face while simultaneously screaming and trying to run away, making you laugh harshly into the glass of water you’re attempting to take a sip out of.

Derek is 27, a software engineer who loves science fiction and photography. He’s handsome in a nerdy way, his big brown eyes hidden behind a pair of glasses and his brown hair simultaneously sophisticated and messy. Polite and with an understated sense of humor you’ve been laughing the entirety of tonight. Your friends have set you up on a date with him, insisting that he’s just your type and that you need to get out and meet new people.

And they’re right. Derek is traditionally your type, everything you’ve historically gone for in a potential partner. That’s why it’s so confusing that you’re really not that into him. He’s nice, to be sure, and you’re having fun, but in the way that you’d have fun when hanging out with one of your friends. It doesn’t feel right to call it a date.

You haven’t been feeling right the past couple of weeks, if you’re being honest with yourself. For some reason, it all seems to stem back to your sleep. Where before you would wake up everyday feeling refreshed and happy, now you find yourself defeated and upset before you can even get out of bed. It’s frustrating, even more so because you don’t know why it is that you’re feeling this way since you can’t remember whatever it is you’re dreaming about.

Maybe that’s why you’re surreptitiously checking the time on the clock above Derek’s shoulder, hoping that the next time you look, it will be an acceptable amount of time that you’ve been on this date and can suggest that it’s time for it to end. Maybe it’s just because you don’t feel a spark, which is too bad. You’ve enjoyed tonight, but on a strictly platonic level.

Eventually the date does come to an end. Derek drives you back to your home and even walks you to the door–a perfect gentleman, and normally a move you’d swoon over. Instead, you’re just feeling tired and more than a little bad at the fact that you don’t reciprocate the feelings you know that he has.

“I had a great time tonight,” Derek says, shyly shoving his hands into his coat pocket. He rocks back on his feet, trying to remain a respectable distance away.

“Yeah, it was fun!” You’re not lying to him; tonight was fun, just not romantically. 

When his eyes flick from yours to your lips and back again, you decide to beat him to what he’s inevitably going to start leaning in for and give him a kiss on the cheek. To his credit, he hides the disappointment very well.

“Let me know when you get home safely?” you ask.

He nods a little too enthusiastically. God, it’s gonna suck having to tell him that you don’t want to date him. “Absolutely. I’ll talk to you soon.”

You smile and wave goodbye at him as he walks back to his car. The moment you close the door, your cheerful facade drops and you sigh heavily. Well, you think, at least it’s over.

Derek later texts you as promised, and you respond with a smiley face emoji and wishes for sweet dreams before setting your phone to ‘do not disturb.’ Tomorrow, you decide before you fall asleep. You’ll rip the bandage off with him tomorrow.

When you open your eyes in the Dreaming, guilt immediately begins to eat at you. There it is, your nightly refresher as to why you’re so miserable as of late; because you can’t remember the love of your life, the King of Dreams and Ruler of the Nightmare Realm, unless you’re asleep and with him in said realm. The moment that you open your eyes back in the Waking, which is where you spend the majority of your time, it’s as if Dream of the Endless doesn’t exist. Hence, the date you allowed yourself to be set up on.

While you’re certainly not doing any of this on purpose, that doesn’t make it any better. You’ve basically just cheated on Dream and had no qualms about it since your stupid Waking body doesn’t know that you’re in love. Though…maybe, subconsciously, you do? That’s really the only reason you can think of as to why you were so turned off of everything about the evening’s events and your date. It doesn’t make you feel that much better, but knowing that there’s a chance that your very soul knows who it belongs to (just as the holder of your soul belongs to you) does help.

Regardless, the guilt leads you to not leave the library and actively seek Morpheus out like you usually would. You’re definitely not hiding from him when you grab one of Sylvia Plath’s unpublished novels and tuck yourself in a small alcove with a window giving you a view of the mountains that are home to both dreams and nightmares. No, you’re just…making yourself scarce and catching up on some reading you didn’t know you had been wanting to do. Besides, Morpheus is busy running a realm and being Endless. Surely he has more, and better, to do than hunt you down?

Apparently, you’re mistaken. Barely an hour (at least, you think it’s an hour; time is a fickle, funny thing in the Dreaming) passes before the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and Morpheus appears in front of you. The stars in his eyes, which have always been your true indicator as to how he’s feeling, twinkle with all of the joy that his barely-there smile hides. It makes your heart, heavy with the knowledge of your betrayal, ache.

“My starlight,” he greets, holding a hand out for you to take. 

Your knee pops when you stand, and you stifle a laugh at the horrified look on Morpheus’s face. It’s fun getting to see his reactions to the normal plights of humans, including joints that make odd noises.

“Hi.” You lean in to kiss him, and the look on his face after you do so tells you that nothing’s going to get by him.

“Something is wrong.”

Dammit. And just when you had decided on the course of pretending like everything was a-okay.

“What makes you say that?” you stammer.

“Your eyes.” His hand comes to your cheek, and his thumb strokes the skin under your eye. “You’re…sad. Uncertain. Why?”

Dammit.

Instead of answering, you throw your arms around him and bury your face into his chest. You can’t look at him, not when you whisper, “I went on a date.”

Morpheus hums, not hearing what you said. “What?”

“I said, I went on a date.”

He stiffens under your hold, and it makes you feel sick to your stomach. You pull away from him, holding your hands behind your back in an attempt to keep them from shaking so violently. They still continue to shake, but at least Morpheus doesn’t see it.

“I didn’t even like him!” you try to explain. “I went because my friends basically forced me on a date and I wanted to get them off my case. We had dinner, it was nice, then he drove me back home. That’s it. But then I woke up here and I’m so ashamed at what I did. I couldn’t keep something like this from you.”

Morpheus is silent as he tries to keep his composure, and you don’t blame him. You’d be mad too, even if there are extenuating circumstances that led to the aforementioned date. Though you want to keep talking and trying to explain yourself, you know that this would just lead to you continuing to dig a bigger hole for yourself, so you wait for him to make the first move.

When he does speak, he does so quietly. You’re staring out the window, too nervous to face him, but you can feel his gaze on you as he says, “You are not at fault here.” 

You scoff. He repeats this phrase so often lately that you wouldn’t be surprised if it becomes the new Dreaming slogan. You know he’s speaking truthfully, that he doesn’t hold any sort of contempt towards you for this. As he’s said to you so many times now, he can’t be mad at you when you quite literally don’t remember any part of the Dreaming when you wake up. You, however, can and will be extremely mad at yourself.

Days of research into why you don’t remember and how you could potentially remember has turned into weeks of research, which has now become months of research. And still, you’re not any closer to finding an answer to this question that’s plagued both you and Morpheus. Any of the rare potential solutions that you’ve come up with have been unfeasible: witches asked too high a price with no guarantee that anything they tried would work, Morpheus’s few mortal contacts could not find any lead to help, and the Dreaming’s library didn’t hold any answers.

The only real fix that anybody had come up with would be for you to move to the Dreaming permanently. While that was certainly a plan that you had, you also still enjoyed the life that you live in the Waking, and there would be loose ends for you to tie up in order to move. Morpheus would basically have to kidnap your unknowing, Waking self, and neither you nor he were willing to deal with the potential trauma of that, no matter how desperate you were becoming.

“Well it still feels a lot like I am,” you say, “especially when it’s causing you so much pain.”

“You are in pain as well,” Morpheus points out.

He’s right, of course. You really hate it when he’s right; and he’s right a lot. Another perk of being Endless, you suppose. That, or being alive for a really long time just gives you the natural ability to always know what to say.

“You’re not mad at me for basically cheating on you?” you ask. 

You’re not at all expecting Morpheus to laugh at your earnest question. Though you’ve heard his laugh before, it’s always a little disconcerting; harsh and grating, like it’s coming from someone who’s both never laughed and never heard a laugh. Even still, you love his awful, full-throated laugh. You just didn’t think that this situation would elicit such a reaction from him.

“I would hardly call one miserable evening spent with a male suitor who did not have any sort of chance with you ‘cheating,’ my love.” He seems awfully pleased about all of this, and while you’re happy for him, you’re also a little confused. “You said it yourself that your friends forced you to go, and that you had no interest in the man. I am jealous that I was not the one able to take you to dinner in the Waking, but there is nothing for you to feel any sort of guilt over.”

It’s certainly a relief to know that he doesn’t hold any grudge against you, nor does he see this as the same grievous error that you do. You’d feel a whole lot more relieved, however, if you didn’t have to worry about any of this at all and could just be happy with your love in both of your realms.

“What do we do?” you ask finally, today’s Waking events giving you a bad feeling about things to come.

“We continue to search, and in the meantime, we love each other as we always have.”

“You still want me?” You’re only half-joking, and he knows it. “Even with all of this trouble?”

“I want you in any way that I can have you. If, one day, you were to decide that our love was not meant to be, I would still be content with being a mere observer in your life.”

“I would never,” you say earnestly. “You know that, right? Sorry to break it to you, but you’re stuck with me.”

“And what an honor and a joy it is,” he says before leaning down to rest his forehead against yours.

The odds, you know, are insurmountable. But for now, here, in Morpheus’s arms, it feels a little more doable. 

•••

Morpheus remains in his throne room long after you’ve returned to the Waking. Though he did his best to take both your mind and his off of the troubles you’re facing, the awareness of said troubles always remains on the periphery. Now, he stares up at the galaxy that swirls above his head, hoping that the stars will hold some sort of answer within their constellations.

What if there is no solution? What if this is just the universe’s way of truly expressing its disdain for Morpheus; by giving him the love that he had only wished to have, just for his lover to be doomed not to remember him when not in the Dreaming? Some would call him dramatic, but he believes that, were this to be the case, he would not survive such a heartbreak. Now that he’s had you in his life, he simply cannot go on living any sort of an existence without you.

He’s teetering precariously on the edge of a dangerous thought spiral when Matthew lands on his throne with a caw, breaking him out of such morose thinking. “Boss, you got a minute?”

“What do you require, Matthew?” Morpheus asks.

“Lucienne is looking for you, she wants you to meet her in the library when you get the chance.”

It’s not as if he’s doing anything but brooding (moping, you would call it), so Morpheus stands from the stairs that he finds preferable to his throne when he’s not required to conduct official business and nods at his emissary. “Let us not keep her waiting, then.” 

Lucienne looks as though she’s been waiting for Morpheus to arrive since the moment she sent Matthew off to request an audience with him. She’s already looking down the long aisle that gives her a direct view of the main doors from her desk, and she stands in recognition when Morpheus and Matthew appear.

“Matthew said you were looking for me?”

“My Lord,” Lucienne greets. “Do you remember when Lady Constantine completed a task for you in 1794?” She has the tact to not say what that task was, knowing that giving more detail than necessary will do nothing but bring more heartbreak to Morpheus.

He nods. “Of course.”

“You had her drink from a spring near the Shores of Creation, so that she would remember the conversation she had with you about how to escape Robespierre. Might that same spring be an option for her Ladyship?”

Even in such dire circumstances, Morpheus still finds himself fighting a smile at the title Lucienne addresses you as. You hate being referred to so formally, and always insist to everyone that they just call you by your name if they need to address you. Most have adjusted to the request, but Lucienne still holds steadfast to traditional conventions.

“When I rebuilt the Dreaming, the spring did not come back. I know not why, nor do I know how it came to be all those years ago,” Morpheus explains.

“So we must attempt to find answers through other avenues. Perhaps we peek into the past?”

“Do we know any time travelers?” Matthew muses lightheartedly.

Morpheus shakes his head and says, “The last time traveler I knew, I have not seen in almost three hundred years.”

Matthew’s feathers ruffle as if he’s about to comment on how he was just making a joke and didn’t expect time travelers to actually be real, but Lucienne cuts in with an idea before he can speak. “The Fates could potentially help.”

“As you said to me once before, the Fates speak in riddles. I do not believe they would be particularly insightful in a matter such as this.”

She nods, and thinks for a moment more. “Your sister has continually reminded you that the family is willing to assist one another, given such assistance is asked for. Might Destiny be willing?”

His first instinct is to emphatically turn down this suggestion. But Lucienne is right; the Endless siblings (most of them, that is), for all their interpersonal troubles, are also more than willing to help out another member of the family should they ask. For most members of the family, their price for assisting with such a request would be far too steep. However…

He has two siblings that would be the most open to helping, and only one would do so solely based on a sense of duty. That same sibling would likely hold the most information about the past, which is the information that he needs. However, this could also be a dead end. For all that Morpheus insists on sticking to the rules that help to keep his realm in order, his older brother somehow makes Morpheus look like a rebellious teen when it comes to following rules.

It’s a gamble, but it seems to be pretty safe. With that in mind, Morpheus makes his decision. “As far as my siblings are concerned, Destiny is the one that would not require any sort of favor from me. If it is written in the Book that he is meant to help me, then he shall. Likewise, he will not help if that is what the Book commands.”

“It is likely the lowest stakes you are going to get here. And if Destiny cannot help, the Fates can serve as a backup plan,” Lucienne points out.

“I shall contact my brother, then.” He waits for Matthew to land on his shoulder before turning back to look at his librarian. “Thank you for your wisdom and assistance, Lucienne. It is…much appreciated.”

Lucienne flattens her lips against each other, but it does nothing to stop the smile that’s fighting to appear on her face. “You’re most welcome, my Lord.”

Morpheus nods and tries not to look as humbled as he feels. He really must stop taking Lucienne and her counsel for granted. How many times throughout the course of Lucienne’s long, long life spent as a creature of the Dreaming has she talked Morpheus off of the proverbial ledge?

As he walks into his gallery to request a meeting with his brother, the first frame, the one containing a large book, begins to glow. “Dream,” a voice says from the frame, “it is I, Destiny of the Endless. I stand in my gallery and hold your sigil, brother. Won’t you come through?”

This meeting was meant to happen, then.

“I will go alone, Matthew,” Morpheus directs. Though Matthew shifts uncomfortably, like he’s not quite sure he wants to let Morpheus do this without him, he jerks his head in a nod nonetheless.

“Good luck!” Matthew wishes before taking off through the open door and making his way back into the Dreaming proper. With a sigh, Morpheus rolls his shoulders back to make himself stand straight and proud as he steps through the portrait frame and out into his eldest sibling’s realm.

The Garden of Forking Ways is always a little disconcerting, no matter how many times Morpheus has visited the realm of Destiny of the Endless. There are an infinite number of paths that one might take, so many that it becomes almost dizzying to look at, and Morpheus imagines it would be quite easy to become forever lost in this never-ending labyrinth. Thankfully, his brother has been expecting him, and is there the moment that Morpheus appears.

“Well-met, Destiny,” Dream greets.

Destiny stands as tall and imposing as ever, the hood of his cloak pulled low over his unseeing, milky eyes. Those that know him, which is really only his siblings, would argue that, though Destiny is blind, he, in fact, sees all, even that which everyone else cannot see with normal vision. 

When Dream arrives, Destiny lays a hand over the book that is forever chained to him. Evidently, the book has told him whatever it is he needed to know, for he nods and gestures Dream closer to him.

“My brother, I thank you for answering my call.” This is as warm as Destiny will ever get; Morpheus, however, has had an eternity to get used to these mannerisms, and knows that this is uncharacteristically tender coming from Destiny.

“You call on the family so little, and I can hardly recall the last time you summoned me individually. What is the matter?”

“Father Time visited my realm some time ago. He said that he had a boon for you, one that was granted as some recompense for your imprisonment. Father, being who he is, could not remember if your boon would help you in the past, present, or future. At least, I believed that he could not remember, for when I asked which it was, he simply said ‘yes’ before taking his leave.”

Morpheus would be lying if he were to say that he didn’t believe he deserved some sort of restitution from the universe or the Creator for all that he had gone through. Still, he never imagined that said amends would be coming from Father Time, who, at best, has only ever shown a vague disinterest in the lives of his children.

(He would also be lying if he were to say that he wasn’t at least a little jealous that their father had deigned to bless one of his children with a rare visit. Of course it was Destiny; the eldest, the wisest, the favorite. He thought that he had long-since come to terms with his family and their strange dynamics, but something about being directly confronted with such a fact has him feeling every bit the middle child that he is.)

From within his robes, Destiny produces a vial which he holds out towards his brother between his thumb and forefinger. Morpheus stares at the pink liquid within and wonders if he should really get his hopes up, or if this is just simply a cruel joke. But no, it’s not. He can feel the dreamstuff that the liquid is made out of, for he is also dreamstuff, and the dreamstuff is he. Like recognizes like.

“I now understand what he meant, and I believe you will as well. Do you know what this is?”

Of course he knows what it is. How could he not, when, for all intents and purposes, it appears to be of his realm? “Water from the spring that used to run near the Shores of Creation?”

Destiny nods, and Morpheus feels his chest tighten. “Thus, his comments make perfect sense now. The past, being that this spring no longer flows in your realm. Presently, you are looking for a solution. With this, your future will be achieved, one way or another.”

He very much agrees with that hypothesis, though the last statement does cause him to pause. “What do you mean, brother? ‘One way or another’?”

“I have said what is to be said.”

To be fair, it’s more than what Destiny would typically say in such a situation, and Morpheus is grateful for it. Still, he remains wary; when has his family ever been clear in their actions without any sort of ulterior motive? “And it is mine? There are no…stipulations, or deals that I must adhere to?”

“It was given freely, for you to use as you wish. A gift, and nothing more.”

For the first time in weeks, Morpheus feels like he can breathe freely. “Thank you, Destiny. Truly.”

“I wish luck to you and your bride. I shall see you soon, when realms meet and the old converges with the new.”

Morpheus doesn’t bother trying to decipher his brother’s cryptic words. What will be, will be, and only once it’s happened will the connection to Destiny’s prophecy make sense.

His own gallery appears before him in a flash, Destiny having sent his brother back to his own realm upon their business being concluded. The vial of spring water still remains in his hand, and he closes his hand around it tightly to remind himself that it’s here and real. The solution that they’ve been searching for, housed in such a small container that he almost worries that he’ll misplace it. 

For the rest of the day, he can only halfheartedly complete the tasks that he had intended to finish. His mind is so distracted that, at one point, he’s pretty sure that he gave The Corinthian (remade without certain traits that made the first iteration a failed project) permission to take a day trip to the Waking. That will surely have to be addressed later, but it can wait. It has to wait. The only thing that he can think clearly about is the small bottle currently sitting in his pocket, which might finally hold the key to your problems.

Morpheus can feel you pass through the barrier separating your realm from his almost as easily as he can feel Matthew do the same. So when you finally, finally fall asleep, he’s there in the library at the exact same moment as you. When you see him, you jump in fright, obviously not expecting him to be right in front of you.

“Give a little warning next time you feel the need to try and send me into a heart attack!” Regardless of your feigned chagrin, you kiss him in greeting before smiling at him.

“Hopefully you’ll forgive me when I tell you that I have good news.”

“What kind of good news?”

Morpheus feels as though every atom in his body is vibrating from the excitement, so much so that he glances down at his hands to see if they’re physically shaking (they’re not). “I appear to have been granted a boon from my father.”

You look bewildered, but it’s not towards what Morpheus had been expecting you to be confused about. “You have a dad?”

“Time.”

“We’ll focus on that later,” you say, shaking your head as if to draw yourself away from this new fact. “What did he give you?”

“Long ago, a spring ran through the Dreaming. The waters of this spring, when consumed, allowed the drinker to remember what had happened within the Dreaming as easily as if they were recalling their day in the Waking. After my imprisonment, when I rebuilt my realm, the spring was absent, for reasons unknown to me.

“Father told my brother, Destiny, that I was owed recompense for my capture, and that the gift he entrusted Destiny to give to me was such payment.” Morpheus reaches into the pocket on the outside of his coat, the only one with lining not made of the universe, and pulls out the glass vial. “The gift was water from the spring, water that I did not believe would ever be in the Dreaming again.”

“So, if I drink this, then…” You don’t say what you’re thinking, not wanting to get your hopes up. Morpheus, having been in your shoes mere hours before, knows exactly how you’re feeling.

“You should be able to remember everything about the Dreaming, about me, when you wake up.” Morpheus hands you the glass container, pressing it gently into your palm. “I will not force you to drink it, however. The choice is yours.”

You scoff and tease, “Do all of the declarations of love and fidelity mean nothing to you?”

The top of the vial is pried off with the nail of your thumb, and you take an experimental sniff of the liquid inside. Once it’s passed whatever test you’ve just administered, you toss your head back and take it as though it’s a shot of liquor. Morpheus doesn’t ever recall actually being one to take a shot, but one sees their fair share of creatures imbibing on all manner of alcohol when one converses with the likes of Faerie and gods.

The actual act of you drinking the water is anticlimactic, and the disappointment shows clearly on your face when you say, “I don’t feel any different.” Still, Morpheus is not discouraged.

“Though it has been about three hundred years since the spring was last used, I do not recall any instant symptoms to show that it had worked. Unfortunately, the only thing we can do is wait.”

Despite his reassurance, you still pout. “Well, that sucks.”

“I am quite sure that we will find some way to pass the time until you wake,” Morpheus says, as if you’ve forgotten that you can quite literally do whatever you want when in the Dreaming. “In the meantime, there is something that I wish to give you.”

“Something else besides magic water?”

“Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks, of course. He moves to stand behind you, reaching into the air and pulling down the gift that he has been intending to give you. His long fingers work to fasten a clasp after he lays the chain around your neck, and when he finishes, he lays his hands on your shoulders. Taking that as a signal, you open your eyes again and look down.

A beautiful silver necklace rests just under the hollow of your throat. He watches as you hold the charm in your hand and run your thumb down the notches of the vertebrae-like trunk. Once you realize that it’s his sigil you hold, you turn in his grasp to meet his eyes.

“Morpheus, this is–” You’re stunned at the significance of such a gift. While he had discussed his desire to give you a wedding ring, being aware of the mortal custom for married couples to wear such jewelry, for Morpheus, this is his version of such a token that signifies devotion and partnership.

“It is yours, and shall remain on your neck when you return to the Waking. My hope is that you will remember me when you wake. If that is the case, you need only call for me while holding my sigil, and I will hear you.”

You kiss him repeatedly in thanks until his head feels like it’s spinning and he starts to think that he understands what mortal dizziness must feel like. “Thank you, truly. I’ve never received such a meaningful gift before.”

“Let us hope you can actually use it come tomorrow. Now, I believe I promised that I would let you win our next chess match?” He had promised such a thing after you had begged him to teach you how to play and then witnessed your subsequent frustration upon continually losing to a being who has played the game since its invention.

“Just announce it to everybody that I suck at chess, why don’t you,” you say fondly before taking his offered hand and letting him do his best to help find some way to pass the time until you wake.

•••

When you open your eyes and catalog the mid-morning sun filtering in through a crack in your curtains, you notice that this is the best that you’ve felt after waking up for weeks now. You roll over, hoping to catch a couple more hours of sleep since it’s the weekend and you have nowhere to be until the afternoon. A sharp poking on your chest has you aborting the idea of laying on your stomach, and you sit up instead to see what it is that’s disrupted your plan.

Around your neck lies a necklace that you most definitely did not go to bed wearing. The charm is like nothing you’ve seen before; if you had to guess, you’d call it some weird, mosquito-like creature. Your thumb traces the spiny trunk as you turn it this way and that to study it, and you watch the light glint in the two rubies that you think are meant to be eyes. A bolt of familiarity runs through you, but you’re not sure why.

Then, it hits you. This is Morpheus’s sigil that you’re wearing–a miniature figure of his helm, his main tool of office. 

Morpheus, the love of your life. 

Morpheus, the man who you normally don’t remember when you wake up.

“Morpheus!” you gasp, holding the necklace against your skin with both hands. “My love, I hold the necklace with your sigil on it, which you told me to use to call for you. Can you hear me?”

The seconds stretch out longer than any you’ve ever experienced as you wait agonizingly to see if your summoning worked. Then, the hair on the back of your neck prickles, the air shifts, and a smile grows to match the one that the man with starry eyes that appears standing before you wears.

“You called?”

•••

Tag list: @igotanidea @chocogoths @kiwistarfruit @craftygamerscrafts @aspenmushroom69 @shadow-pancake9 @mr-sandman-bring-me-a-dream @pinksirensong @musemaniac42 @rosaren2498 @deniixlovezelda @beyondmystery @sloanexx @1950schick @padsfirewhisky @wendds @mageneire @lexi-anastasia @rockergirl57 @commanderfreethatdust @inannamoon @my-fic-corner @sayumiht

[possum-quesadilla]

Chapter two of Lonely Remnants, “I wish I'd find all the lonely remnants, Of you that left when your head cracked open”, is here! Short but wild. Surprisingly, no trigger warnings this time!

Here are the extras!

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are from “Coma Baby” by Nicole Dollanganger, and is also the origin of the fic’s title! I won’t go in depth as to how this song relates to the story, as that would be spoilers!

- “Painstakingly, she babysat the demon as it rinsed off the worst of what was left, then she used a pile of different washcloths and hand towels to wipe when she could off his face.” - If I had a nickel for every time a scene like this happened in my Beetlejuice fics, I’d have at least two.

- “My real physical form before I took this body was a bucket full of black goo. I could show ya, but I’d have to be qui-” - It was going to say it would have to be quick, because it wouldn’t have much time to return to the body.

- “It certainly hated the noise and the heat, growling and reminding her over and over that it needed to stay cool. She just rolled her eyes and kept doing her best to get the rotten little beast dry.” - IF I HAD A NICKEL-

- “A photo taken mid-snowball fight, Lawrence with an impish grin as he wound up to throw a rather large ball of snow at an unsuspecting Lydia. Lawrence, apparently having not grown up with snowy winters, sat bundled up in blankets on the couch, a cup of hot cocoa in hand. He was red-faced and obviously still freezing, but he was still smiling so brightly as Adam leaned down to kiss the top of his snowflake-covered head.” - Lawrence got absolutely decimated by Lydia for sneaking up on her like that. His ass got pelted with so many snowballs that Emily, Barbara, and Adam had to drag him inside so his southern-born ass wouldn’t get frostbite.

- “(Lydia’s passion for the arts seemed to have died with her mother, she thought. Just the idea of picking up a camera now made her sick to her stomach.)” - GUYS DON’T WORRY SHE WILL REGAIN HER PASSION FOR PHOTOGRAPHY!!!

- “ “That’s me and my dad, Charles. He used to take you golfing every summer to bond with you, but you sucked at it.” The Shoggoth gave her a funny sort of look as she continued.” - It was not prepared for her to refer to it as Lawrence.

- “ “Emily…” the Shoggoth echoed, some strange pained look flickering through it’s eyes.” - Hmm. Interesting!

- “There was a pair of photos of a family escape room trip. All of them, photographed by the employees, standing with bright grins and excited thumbs up. Then, in the same setting, with all of them staring angrily at an anxiously grimacing Lawrence, who held a sign that read “We did not escape”.” - It was Lawrence’s fault they did not escape.

- “Clusters of photos of nature, of them all in camping gear, of Charles teaching Lawrence, Adam, and Lydia how to fish. Lawrence diving in to the lake and then coming back up with a large bass in his hands, to the slack-jawed Charles’ astonishment, and cheers from Lydia.” - A little bit of foreshadowing to Lawrence’s country roots! My boy used to wade through the Everglades barefoot and grab pythons and such without batting an eye.

- “Lawrence hunched over a campfire, arms outstretched and face twisted and shadowed in a ghoulish grin as he recounted some ghastly horror story that seemed to especially petrify his partners.” - He has always been very talented at scaring people :)

- “Pridefest in a nearby town, Lawrence having Lydia sat on his shoulders as she flew a transgender flag high and proud for him. Adam, Barbara, and Emily smiling and flocking to their sides, touting their own flags. (Charles had taken the picture, it was amateurish and shaky.)” - Lydia is mad, hence why the narration/she is calling him ‘amateurish’ and not mentioning him as much. Also, ha ha, Charles is the only cishet one! Loser /lh

- “Fourth of July, where Charles, Adam, and Barbara followed Lawrence extremely closely each year, but somehow still never caught him before he could set off the disastrous “Fat Dragon” fountain firework that was captured in a bright, blurry photo of all of them running and screaming from it after it had tipped over and shot in their direction.” - Based on true events from my own life. Also “Fat Dragon” is a reference to “The Babysitter”, a movie I have a love-hate relationship with.

- “He looked… very different. It was almost startling. His face was clean-shaven, his cheeks were sunken, his hair was long and unmanaged. His features were almost… softer. Certainly younger. Very different from the bold, loud, scruffy thirty-something she knew.” - It’s because he went on testosterone after this!

- “He wore tattered clothes and had fake blood smeared all over his face. A zombie. How ironic. She held up the photo, eliciting a strange, grating chuckle from the Shoggoth.” - The Shoggoth also sees the irony. It finds it very funny.

- “Lydia pushed the album aside to ensure a sudden deluge of tears didn’t ruin it’s pages. The Shoggoth flinched, brows furrowed in a sort of pained expression. “… y-… you alright, kiddo?” ” - Oh? What’s this? The freaky creature already showing signs of caring??

- “Lydia raised an eyebrow and tilted her head hard to one side. She could swear she saw Barbara flinch at the movement, but the pained expression was gone in a moment.” - That particular gesture reminded Barbara of Lawrence.

- “ “… is that why they never came to…. Visit?” She got the implication in an instant, it seemed, as Barbara solemnly nodded her head.” - By “visit” she means come pay for a gravesite.

- “It isn’t our story to tell, sweetheart. Especially not..” - She was going to say ‘while you’re so young’, as they had an agreement with Lawrence to have him tell Lydia what happened before he came to their town when she was older.

- “ “Oh my god, that explains the weird accent!” Her second mom nodded fervently, leaving the rag where it was as she went to make her way around the counter to Lydia. “He tried his best to hide it, but it always slipped out!” She lowered her voice in her best approximation of her brother’s own cadence as she mockingly drawled out, “now, pardon me, ma’am, but I do believe he did a right shit job of hidin’ it!” ” - Partially based on my own experience of being clocked immediately for my own stupid yeehaw accent, although mine is not from Louisiana. Lawrence hid it very well, but it came out on certain words like ‘pardon’, and he let it slip more in front of his loved ones.

- “All the while the Shoggoth hissed and shied away, but Barbara pursued it and demanded it get out of their home as she continued to hit it.” - Hehe, she wants it to leave but she’s not letting it leave

- “Lydia called, surging forward and going to grip the woman’s arm, but she was stoped by Adam suddenly returning to his senses and lifting her up under her armpits and trying to carry her away.” - Adam dad reflexes!!!

[mrbob0822]

Robert Moonbrow, Cleric of Pelor | Sole Survivor & Dogmeat

Photography by David Ngo at C2E2 2024

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Hello, Tumblr!

It's...certainly been quite a while, hasn't it? OOF. I really apologize for the unintended hiatus.

I was at C2E2 in Chicago a couple of weeks ago with some updated costumes, and figured I'd share!

Friday and Sunday I wore my Sole Survivor costume from Fallout 4, with plenty of extra weathering and proper strapping since I slapped it together prior to Halloween last year. I made the Dogmeat Heavy Dog Armor for my actual German Shepherd(Caboose), but since he's not a service animal(please don't bring your pets to conventions), I wound up purchasing a close-to-life-sized plush version that the costume *mostly* fit on. The number of people who did double-takes and "thought it was a real dog" was staggering, so I guess I did something right. Also, Sunday of C2E2 is always touted as family day, so the number of kids that came up asking to pet my dog was adorable.

On Saturday, I wore my D&D costume: a half-elven cleric of Pelor of my own design. I adore Dungeons & Dragons, and as an homage to nearly playing with the same group(multiple campaigns) since 2002, I made my first character Robert Moonbrow. I debuted this back in 2022, which revealed some issues with my design, so those fixes were made(mostly reinforcing the straps to prevent stretching and to reinforce the area around the rivets since all of the armor is EVA foam) as well as a heater shield I never got around to finishing, which turned out great, with the exception of being able to see the wrist straps through the foam on the front. On a whim, I decided to enter the Crown Championships of Cosplay this year, ReedPop's costume contest. I had zero expectations of anything, since people have no attachment to original characters other than the person making it, but I worked insanely hard on this thing, dumping probably close to 1,000 hours into the costume overall, and pushed the boundaries of my skillset to make something I was truly proud of out of a love for the fun my friends and I had with our time together. I didn't win anything, but it was genuinely great just to be in the same competition as the others who entered with their insane craftsmanship and attention to detail, and I do mean that, sincerely. We had a great time talking shop backstage during the competition and admiring one another's costumes.

Will I ever compete again? Probably not. It kind of eats up the entire day, and it takes me forever to make a costume in general, much less one to compete with. If I ever did, I might consider revamping my Grey Warden Alistair costume or something, but it's an extremely low priority. At the end of the day, cosplay is just a fun hobby for me, and adding extra stress with competition prep and anxiety kinda sucks some of the fun out of it, even though it was a fun and new(at least at this level) experience this time.

This is the only convention I'll be attending this year, much as I absolutely miss all of my friends at Dragon Con and would love to attend. I haven't been there since...2018? Oof. My friend Darryn said he'll be there in 2025, so I made the promise to him that I'll be there, which means I'll be bringing Alistair, since we became friends by cosplaying the character. I would also love to bring my D&D costume, but it's not exactly a cool and comfortable costume, so I'm going to try to test out its comfortability in the heat by wearing it to the Bristol Renaissance Faire on the Wisconsin/Illinois border at the end of July this summer(Saturday, July 27th is the plan). If you're in the area and want to see it in person or say goodbye to me as I potentially die of heatstroke(kidding!(hopefully...)), feel free! Fingers crossed the weather holds out that day for a solid test.

Anyway, time for me to shut up! Enjoy some additional shots from C2E2 2024: