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well i need to meet to pedro pascal

Dark but Just a Game

pairing: (pre-ellie) joel miller x afab!fem!reader

summary: your dad’s associate and friend, joel miller, finally tires of your constant teasing

warnings: rough sex/smut (fingering, fem penetration, unprotected sex) so 18+ only content; fem afab reader; mention of reader having long-ish hair; alcohol consumption & drunkenness; pet names (sweetheart, angel, baby); dubcon (intoxication, power imbalance); age gap.

beta reader: @millllenniawrites aka that’s bestfren

word count: 3.7k

no use of y/n in this fic.

ahhhh this is my first time writing for joel so any and all feedback is super appreciated. i was slightly inspired by the amazing dbf!joel drabbles that @anchoeritic writes (seriously, if you enjoy this fic, go read them). as always, my requests are open !!

—

THEN,

It started out so innocently.

Your dad often helped Tess and Joel smuggle contraband in and out of the QZ, sometimes by keeping the right people quiet, other times by offering the pair a place to lay low at. You got accustomed to the sight of them passed out on the floor, the glow of the sunrise illuminating only their sleeping faces, or else a murmuring trio of hushed voices in the middle of the night.

Soon, however, you began to notice the way Joel’s eyes seemed to trail on you, often catching his hardened gaze in yours. Still, he rarely spoke to you and when he did, he mostly just grunted a “hullo” or asked if your father was around.

But you suspected that he noticed you.

Especially when your old clothes got too tight, hugging your skin and leaving little to the imagination. You observed his breath hitching the very first time he saw you in a skirt.

So, naturally, you played into it. You started sneaking downstairs in the morning wearing only a t-shirt and your underwear, feigning innocence at the way (you imagined) he tried, hard, not to look at your ass as you sauntered back up to your room.

Sometimes, you bumped into him on the streets of the QZ. You’d loop your arm around his broad bicep, wide-eyed, gazing up at him through your eyelashes and asking why he hadn’t dropped by to say hello recently. Causing him to tense beneath your hands always felt electrifying; the restraint in his grumbled “soon” always felt like a victory.

When it was dark out and he, Tess, and your dad shared a drink together on the dusty-old-living-room-couch, you made sure to lock eyes with him, taking in the danger lurking in them. He’d look away, leaning back casually and adjusting his jeans.

But—it was always innocent.

It was a game you played with yourself; one you weren’t even sure he was in on. Life in the QZ got dull, and there were only so many good-looking men your age that your dad’s work allowed you to see.

Sometimes, when business was good, your old man got his hands on an extra shipment of liquor, inviting all of his favourite bandits in the Zone and throwing a “party” in one of the run-down, less monitored buildings. You did yourself up as best as you knew how to, shared a flask with your friends and flirted with young smugglers.

It was seedy, but it was fun.

Joel was always there, usually asking around for parts or looking to cut deals. Usually, he drank and stayed out of your way.

Once, however, after being extremely irresponsible with your consumption, you found yourself alone with Andy, a young FEDRA guard (working for your side, of course), slurring your words and stumbling on your feet. He was good-looking in a boyish way and handsy to high heavens. You vaguely remembered his insistence on taking you back to his place and the feel of his wet lips against yours. You clearly remembered hearing a gruff, “Get off,”—Joel’s baritone echo taking you both by surprise. Andy’s head swung to find Miller’s looming form in the doorway; he immediately tore his hands from your body and scampered off. You were alone with Joel, his expression a mask of rage and contempt tinged with—could it have been—jealousy?

After that, it was all bits and pieces of blurred images and sounds. Big hands pulled you into strong arms; your feet were lifted from the ground. You retained flashes of drunken faces smiling and jeering at you as you were carried away from the festivities—then it was dilapidated hallways, the jangling of keys fumbling with a lock, and finally, the ceiling above your bed as Joel gently set you down. Even now, you could clearly picture the way his eyes traveled along your exposed skin as he stood, arms crossed, at the edge of the bed.

Sitting up, fixing your drunken, playful eyes to look deeply into his, you slurred, “Got a bit jealous?”

He said nothing. He only held your gaze and crossed his arms, the muscles beneath flexing and relaxing in rhythm with the motion.

“C’mon Joel,” you teased him, “so serious, all the time. I was fine.”

Now that had an effect.

He growled, “one more minute with that asshole…” and shook his head, his words trailing off as he fought the urge to take your bait. “Just go to sleep. You’ll thank me in the morning.”

He turned, heading towards the door. Perhaps the excess liquor made you reckless or Andy’s kisses left you wanting—either way, you needed to push the limits with Joel. You needed him to stay, to turn around and play your game.

“I could thank you now, if you want.”

He stopped in his tracks, his head slowly turning to the side. Your blood burned in your veins, both from the alcohol and from the tension pulsing between you and him in that darkened room. He paused for a moment and it felt like a lifetime—laid on the bed, watching his shoulders move with every breath he took. He flexed a hand, something he often did when he was around you.

Finally, he spoke.

“Go to sleep.”

And with that, he shut off the light and left the room, closing the door behind him.

So, you decided it was probably all in your head. Maybe the looks and the tension and the teasing were just part of a one-sided game you played with yourself. Still, you couldn’t help thinking about the strain in his voice when he ordered you to bed or the anger that went beyond disdain and contempt at the sight of Andy’s hands exploring your body. You regularly reminisced about the events of that night, most often without meaning to. Most often alone, between the hours of one and three AM, sneaking a guilty hand down between your thighs.

That was the last time Joel had interacted with you.

At least before tonight.

—

NOW,

Joel stands between Tess and a seedy looking short guy you’ve never seen before, clearly not paying attention to whatever the two of them are hashing out. Tensions are low, which makes Joel look comically out of place. He lifts a silver flask to his lips.

The chatter of people talking and laughing fills the narrow, dusty space—from somewhere down the hall, you hear your father’s booming laugh. You’re finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on whatever your peers are gushing on about. The warmth in your stomach and the buzz under your skin from whatever liquor finds its way into your cup brings you back to the last time you’d seen Joel at one of these get-togethers.

“Can’t believe Miller comes to these things,” one such peer—a bandit in training, your good friend Emma—remarks. “Weird seeing him… well, not relaxed but… not stressed.”

You laugh. “I know, right. When he’s passed out, I don’t even recognize him. Looks completely different without his signature scowl.”

She turns away from him, focusing her attention instead on you. “Right,” she says, “I forgot him and your dad…” She trails off, her expression changing as her interests do, as well.

Emma suddenly smirks at you. “Does he sleep naked?” she asks, mischievous. This piques the interest of the others paying attention to your conversation, who subsequently tune in to hear your answer.

You smile, shaking your head. “No,” you respond, keeping your voice low. “Fully clothed—with his gun in hand.”

Emma’s eyes settle back on Joel as her smile fades. The other delinquents go back to their respective conversations. “Such a shame,” she says, wistfully. “I’d bet a month’s rations that his dick is huge.”

You giggle at that and she passes you the flask. You take a big swig, heat blooming across your tongue as the whiskey burns down your throat.

He catches you staring—his eyes darken when he notices the drink in your hand. Smiling innocuously at him, you wave your fingers in an extremely girlish greeting gesture. He raises his thick eyebrows, unimpressed.

A familiar figure interrupts your silent conversation.

“Hey,” Andy says, his voice unsure and subdued.

“Hey.”

He looks rumpled and flushed, as though recent weeks had not been kind to him. Andy’s not-brown-not-blonde hair hangs limp around his crown, mirroring the defeated air his stature gives off. Despite the near foot he has on you, he seems ironically small.

He runs a nervous hand through his hair. “Look,” he tries, awkwardly stuffing his fingers in his pockets, “I’m sorry about last time. I was really drunk and I don’t really remember what I said, but I know it wasn’t cool.”

You scoff. “I don’t really think it was so much what you said, Andy,” you respond playfully. After all, you know he meant no harm. Drunk people get horny, and you had both been very drunk. “Don’t worry about it. No hard feelings,” you add.

That’s when, from over Andy’s shoulder, you catch a glimpse of Joel’s expression. Pure disapproval. Cold, ruthless contempt burns in his eyes.

“At least not from me.”

Andy turns around slowly, following your eye-line. By the time he clues in to who you’re referring to, Joel’s already looked away, turning his attention to the still-ongoing conversation between Tess and the stranger.

“Right,” Andy says, wincing. “He’s been giving me a hard time on the streets.”

“Don’t sweat over Miller,” Emma interjects casually. “He gives everyone a hard time.”

Once again, you find yourself distracted from the conversation, focussing on a different man in the room. Why should he get to decide when you get to be wild? What business does he have protecting you from other guys? After all, Joel Miller is not your father.

It frustrates you that he keeps pretending not to notice your stare. It frustrates you that he keeps his head ducked, feigning interest in the deal being made beside him. Taking in his size, the salt-and-pepper of his hair, and the fierce angle of his jaw, you steal another swig from the flask, wiping the excess off your lips.

It emboldens you.

Leaning up on your tippy-toes, you muster up your most sensual tone, whispering softly in Andy’s ear: “Let me make it up to you.”

You pull back to catch his look of disbelief, his pouty pink lips parting slightly as he struggles to locate his words. Grabbing his hand in yours, you nod your head to the right, wordlessly encouraging him to take you down the hall. He obeys without a sound.

You quickly shove the flask back into Emma’s hand.

“Save some for after,” you plead, and she shakes her head, tossing you an exaggerated eye-roll.

You lock eyes with Joel momentarily before you’re pulled down the hall, satisfaction leaking from your gaze—you’re not quite sure why. You break away, ignoring the non-verbal warning in his stare.

Who cares what he thinks, anyways?

You wind up in a run-down, dim-lit room, empty save for an old desk. Andy pins you against the wall as soon as the door creaks to a close behind you, pressing his lips to yours in a sloppy, tipsy kiss. His hands travel south to grab your ass and you respond by wrapping your arms around his neck. Things heat up—his clumsy fingers brush the fabric over your breasts and you dig your hip into the bulge beneath his denim.

It’s not that you want Andy. Frankly? It could be anyone. None of the boys you hang out with really interest you beyond being potential partners for youthful experimentation—which is exactly what Andy is to you. In all likelihood, that’s not what you are to him.

Oh well. Those are morning thoughts.

Andy’s hands snake under your shirt, the pads of his fingertips creeping up to your breasts.

The door slams open.

Andy basically leaps off of you, a horrified expression settling on his features as he registers the identity of the intruder—as history repeats itself.

“Out,” Joel orders through gritted teeth, holding the door open for the boy to walk through. Andy practically sprints free—without risking a goodbye, without uttering a “sir, yes sir.”

You sigh once you and Joel are alone, adjusting your clothing and casually leaning back against the wall.

“Okay, Joel,” you say, exasperation coating your words. “What’s this all about.”

Wordlessly, he closes the door and locks the handle. His movements are slow, precise, and calculated—butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He approaches you, leaning one hand against the wall behind your head and using a pair of thick, callused fingers to tilt your head up. He smells like sandalwood and hard liquor; he smells like a man. Electricity crackles throughout your entire being.

The touch of his hand on your face drains every last drop of your boldness.

“I think,” he grumbles out, his voice low, gravelly, dangerous, “You know exactly what this is about.”

You swallow, focussing all your energy on holding his severe gaze. Between your thighs, your nerves begin to pulse, responding to his proximity with enthusiasm.

“No, I really don’t,” you respond, mustering up some confidence from god-knows-where to render your tone convincing.

He scowls. “S’lil’ game you’re playin’,” he mutters softly, coolly. “Comin’ downstairs half-naked, clingin’ onto me in public when you know I can’t do anything…”

He shakes his head, his grip on your jaw tensing slightly.

This time, when he speaks, his tone is hoarse. “What are you tryin’ to get out of it?”

A smile creeps onto your face at the anguish in his voice.

So you hadn’t imagined it. Joel had been in on it from the start.

You look up at him with big, sultry eyes, taunting him. There’s no point in avoiding the truth anymore—you want joel. And you’ve never really been the type to not go for what you want.

In this moment, you’re willing to risk anything to have Joel do something, anything to you.

Wicked innocence drips off your every word as you purr, “Whatever you’ve been dying to give me, Joel.”

You watch your answer take effect. A vein in his jaw twitches—lust floods his eyes.

In a flash, you’re facing the wall with both hands pinned above your head by one much larger, much stronger hand. Joel’s weight presses against you, pinning you in place.

“That right, angel?” Joel challenges under his breath as his other hand explores your chest, grabbing roughly at your breasts. “Want me to show you what I’ve had in mind?”

His hand travels towards your underwear, sliding down your front in a tantalizing motion; you moan before his fingers even brush your most sensitive spot.

“I do, Joel,” you moan, desperate for his touch. The feel of his chest against your spine is intoxicating, your mind goes blank at the sensation of his cock pressed against your ass.

Joel’s index and middle fingers find your clit, rubbing torturous circles around the throbbing bud. His thumb presses into your skin, anchoring his hand in place.

“So fuckin’ wet,” he groans. “Wonder what your dad’d say if he knew his lil’ girl was soakin’ wet for this cock.”

He slips a finger inside you, curling it up, making your mouth gape open in a silent ah and your eyebrows crease together. “You think of me when you’re touchin’ this pretty pussy?” Gasping and struggling against his hold, you nod enthusiastically, overwhelmed by the feel of him inside you.

“Please,” you whisper, wanting more, more, more.

“Manners,” he growls, tightening his grasp on your wrists. “Please, Joel,” he corrects, pumping his fingers in and out of your cunt, his palm flattened and working against your swollen clit.

“Please-please, Joel,” you gasp out, throwing your head back against the crook of his shoulder. He leans forward, laying a soft kiss in the delicate nook of your neck. Then, he’s releasing you, pulling his fingers out and taking a step back.

He gestures to the desk.

“Facedown, sweetheart.”

You obey, stumbling over to it and laying your chest against the cold wood. It stings and you shiver.

Joel fumbles with his belt and then he’s behind you, unzipping his fly and pulling his length out. With your cheek laid against the desk, you get a perfect view of him towering over you, a dark God, holding his cock in his hand.

Emma had been right.

“You gotta be quiet,” he warns, before flipping up your skirt. He groans at the sight of your ass, roughly grabbing one cheek and squeezing it—hard.

“I will be,” you whine, desperate to take him in.

He chuckles, pulling down your dripping panties, letting them fall to your ankles. His tip runs between your folds, teasing your clit in tormenting strokes. You whine and moan, “Joel-s’good,” responding to every brush of his tip.

“You’re needy,” he says, gruffly.

He pushes his cock deep into your cunt, settling every inch of himself inside you.

“I like needy.”

You gasp at the sting and the pleasure and the fullness, unable to control yourself. Joel is huge—your walls wrap tightly around him as he pulls out near-completely before snapping his hips against your ass, filling you up to the brim again. You cry out as he holds your arms in place, setting a rhythm, grabbing you just as roughly as he fucks you.

“Joel,” you moan loudly before a large hand slaps over your lips.

“Shut up,” he growls.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you give yourself to him entirely, cravenly grinding against his hips.

“Look at you, fuckin’ yourself on my cock,” he taunts. “Takin’ it so good, pretty girl.”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoes through the room, dirty and filthy and hot.

Joel’s fingers muffle your moans of abandonment, every “fuck,” “yes,” and “thank you,” coming out simply as “mmm.”

“This what you fuckin’ wanted?” he asks gruffly, leaning a hand next to your head and bending forward to loom over you. “Gettin’ fucked by a man twice your age?”

The angle allows him to push even more of his length inside you, causing you to squirm pathetically against his hips. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he adds, “That right, pretty girl?”

You nod eagerly, your eyes growing heavy, filling with abandon.

He looses a hollow laugh. “Needy lil’ thing,” he breathes, tangling his fingers in your hair. “With a needy lil’ pussy.”

Freeing your mouth, he throws his head back, straightening out and bringing both hands to your circle your waist. Now, he fucks you fast and brutally, his breath coming heavy and hard. With every stroke, Joel’s tip grazes your inner most sensitive spot, causing sheer ecstasy to radiate throughout your core.

“Come inside me, Joel,” you beg. “Come in me—please.”

Joel groans sinfully. “Can’t do that, sweetheart.”

Fluttering waves ripple from your cunt down your legs, threatening to take you over the edge.

“Joel,” you half-sob, “I’m gonna-”

He slows down, thrusting into you in great, harsh strokes, well-versed in the art of bringing a woman to climax. You cry out as your orgasm tears through you, unable to form words or thoughts or anything beyond “Joel,” “Ohmygod,” and “yes-yes-yes.”

“S’it baby,” he coaxes. “Come aaalll over my cock.”

Your walls clench around him, your pussy just as desperate as you are to keep him tucked inside you.

He exhales shakily, grabbing fistfuls of your ass in his hands.

“Fuck it,” he groans, thrusting faster inside you. “M’gonna fill you up.” Your eyes are still rolled to the back of your head, your hands desperately searching for something to grasp onto. His cock swells inside you, tensing up between your walls as his seed spills out between them—he comes with an “oh fuck” and a final, brutal stroke.

You lie still for a moment, listening to the sound of your ragged breathing harmonizing with Joel’s. He runs a massive hand along your arm, his touch suddenly delicate, revering.

“You’d better fuckin’ pray I can find the pill for you tomorrow,” he says finally, his husky voice both amazed and amused.

Lifting your chest off the table, you slowly flip around, perching on the edge to face him as he reorganizes his clothes, pulling his boxers up and tugging at his fly. He looks so handsome between your knees, with his hair slightly disheveled and his shirt all rumpled.

“Get extra,” you coo, your breath still uneven, your thoughts still bungled. You run a slight hand devotedly down his plaid shirt, marvelling at the pleasure the proximity brings you.

He laughs low, shaking his head. “S’was a one-time deal, angel,” he says with a smile. He finishes doing up his belt and leans both his hands on the table, his nose just centimeters away from your own. “Can’t be caught fuckin’ my associates’ daughters—bad for business,” he adds, pulling your underwear back up your thighs. You adjust yourself and pout at him, playfully.

“You didn’t like it?” you ask, pretend-innocence soaking your tone.

He smiles softly. “I liked it too much,” he responds. “S’why it can’t happen again.”

You raise your eyebrows defiantly. “Well, I’m not gonna make it easy on you, Miller.”

He slowly straightens up, offering you a hand as you scoot off the desk. Your legs feel shaky, but his hold anchors you in place.

“M’countin’ on that.”

With that said, he gestures for you to leave the room, following closely behind you. He opens the door and you peer into the hallway, making note of its emptiness before stepping out. Joel exits soon after, taking off in the opposite direction. You catch him looking back at you, a dazed, hungry look still lingering on his expression.

It makes you smile.

Later that night, you find Emma and Joel finds Tess. You’re back to your side of the divide and he’s back to his.

It’s as though nothing ever happened.

“Hey, check it out,” Emma remarks. “Miller actually looks, like, chilled-out,” she slurs loudly.

You smile knowingly, nodding in agreement.

“‘Guess he found a way to blow off steam.”

She gives you a quick, faded nod before becoming absorbed in something else. It doesn’t bother you. You’re also absorbed in something else: lost in thought, consumed by the lingering echoes and traces of Joel’s skin on yours.

When you catch his eye from across the room, you can tell that his thoughts are haunted by the very same thing.

This was no longer an innocent game.

It was a dirty secret.

oh yes

"ask her out." sarah said leaning into the kitchen counter. looking at her dad with funny eyes. joel was busy chopping the veggies for dinner so he didn't really listen what sarah said nor he noticed the devilish smirk on her face.

"what?"

"y/n. ask h-"

"sarah." joel tried to stop her from continuing to talk. he knew where this was going.

"come on! ask her out! it's so obvious that she's dying for you to do it."

"sarah, stop this-"

"she likes you!"

"sarah, i can't ask her out! she's half my age, she could be your sister!"

sarah rolled her eyes. "she's an adult. she can make her own decisions."

"and she's your babysitter." joel added, making sarah huff. she hated that word because she was not a baby anymore. you made lunch for her, you drove her to school and to her soccer practice, you helped her with her homework, you hugged her when you two watched a movie, and you made sure that she was well tucked in before you left.

"are you sure she's like a sister? because it's giving me mother fig-"

"she's really helpful, you know?" joel immediately interrupted sarah before she could finish. actually not wanting her to finish. that would mean finally saying out loud what sarah, tommy and he thought. "the only one we've found that doesn't wanna strangle you after the first week."

"hey! that's not true! it's just- it didn't work with the other girls, okay?"

joel stopped chopping the veggies to look at his daughter with his eyebrows raised. she had been very picky about choosing a babysitter. he had been looking for someone to take care of sarah while he was out for a really long time when he found you. some of them he rejected because joel didn't think they would be good for sarah, others because he didn't trust them enough to stay almost twenty-four hours with his daughter. some rejected him when they discovered that he had a daughter, other ones because of the wages that his salary allowed him to pay. and those that were okay with those previous things sarah didn't like them.

joel thought about it and sarah smiled.

"no. it's not happening." he determined, shaking his head and making sarah huff. "she's like the best thing that happened to us! we can't risk losing her over a date. i mean, where are we going to find someone like her?"

sarah nodded. "exactly."

joel shook his head again.

"if you have not asked her out by the end of the week, i'll do it for you!" she added before leaving to her room.

"sarah! you can't do that!"

and sarah always keeps her word. by the end of the week joel tried to ask you to dinner several times always failing to do so. what if you thought he was a creep? he would be very embarrassed. so, on friday night she told you go get pizza at the perfect time for you to coincide with joel at the front door.

"oh, hi joel." you said when you saw him getting out of his car. "you are on time for dinner."

"it seems like it, yeah." he walked to where you were, pulling the keys out of his pocket and ready to open the door for you. most of the nights when he arrived you had already had dinner and sarah was in bed. joel told you every time that you didn't have to do it, but you couldn't help but prepare him something to eat. "how was it? she's been good?"

you giggled. "yeah, she's the best."

when joel finally opened the door the lights of the house were off, only the kitchen table remained lit thanks to the candles. joel closed the door behind you with his eyes closed and one of his hands massaging his temples. you went to put the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter while you looked at sarah proudly standing next to the table.

"what is all this?" you asked smiling. joel swallowed nervously.

"a date." bill answered, appearing behind sarah and placing his hands on both of the girl's shoulders. joel wanted to beat his brother's ass.

"a date?"

sarah nodded. her eyes moved to an embarassed joel, still standing on the door frame and then to you again. you noticed that the table was only set for two people. "oh. sarah-" your heart flipped inside your chest. this week she had asked you many questions, especially about your love life. if you were seeing someone, if you were interested in someone, if you had any plans on friday night...

"look, y/n, i'm sorry about all of this. you can lea-"

"no, it's fine. i mean, it could be nice. don't you think so?"you interrupted him. he raised his eyebrows, slowly nodded and he put his hands inside of his pockets, trying to hide how nervous he truly was.

"i mean, yeah. why not?"

sarah did a little excited jumping before going to hug you and prepare your dinner, which basically consisted of bringing the pizza you had brought to the table. tommy said to both of you that he was going to take sarah out to dinner and that you would have as much time as you wanted. when they both left you found joel and you alone in a really dark house. "should we turn on the lights or...?"

"yes, that would be great. i can't see shit." he added making you laugh.

during the dinner you asked about how his day went and joel was so interested in everything that you told him about you. and when you realized, both of his hands were holding your face up, his thumbs were caressing your cheeks and your body was trapped between joel's and the kitchen counter. his hot lips were moving so perfectly with yours and you thought you could melt under his touch. your hands made their way under his t-shirt, helping him to pull it over his head.

"wait, wait. are you okay with this?"

after verbally saying yes to him, the next thing you knew one of his hands was around your neck, his mouth really close to your ear muttering through gritted teeth the dirtiest things and he was thrusting from behind trying to get more of those angelic sounds you were making.

small favours

— joel miller x fem!reader

— warnings: explicit content minors dni, smutttt, dirty talk, very minimal plot sorry not sorry, swearing, needles, mention of injuries/cuts

— a/n: happy tlou release week!! this is set in jackson between the first and second game, i wrote the first part before i saw the show but just imagine with me okay. and it’s literally just bc i saw joel in that denim shirt and went yeah… i wanna fuck him in that. lmao. also dedicated to @everybirdfellsilent because we have been waiting for this show for so long and it’s finally here and oaoxosoxosox. wow.

You hadn’t asked for much.

It was a simple fix, you were sure of it. Yes, you don’t know anything about how to fix hinges, nor do you have any clue about how you broke it in the first place. Either way, it’s just a few screws and a metal piece, so was it really that hard to find five minutes to fix it?

Leading another one of the horses into the stable, you pointedly step over the gate that now lays on the floor, too heavy for you to move it. The horse tramples it, of course, which is why you had asked for someone to come and fix it before the horses were brought back in from patrol. Clearly, no one gave a shit about your question, but you know they’d all be the first to complain if it was their horse that got out through a broken gate.

It was late now, anyways. Too late for you to get anyone out, and even with the safety of Jackson’s walls keeping you blocked off from the outside world, being out at night still freaked you. When you finally got the horse in your hand settled and fed, you promptly sat yourself on the floor of the stable. Without the front gate, it wasn’t safe to leave the horses alone. With your luck, they’d get spooked and run all the way through town, and the last thing you needed was more reason for the people in here to look at you.

It wasn’t that you weren’t liked— you just kept to yourself. This life was hard enough as it is, and you didn’t see the point in making friends when in five years this place would probably be full of strangers. People die every day out here, you knew that too well. You wanted to save yourself the heartache wherever you could.

All that anti social behaviour certainly didn’t win you any favours though— hence the still broken door. You loved it— you were good with horses, having lived in a farm before the outbreak, so you decided to volunteer to help in the stables, but it was hard work sometimes. It kept you busy enough, though, and horses never wanted to make conversation, so… win-win.

There was only one problem with working in here. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much as a problem and more of a chronic condition. At least, that’s the way it felt every time Joel Miller made some kind of appearance. Most people just left the horses tied up out front for you to take care of, but Joel seemed to enjoy the peace the stable provided— that and you never talked much, which seemed to work for him. On the days he’d come back from patrol, the two of you would share a few hushed conversations as you worked and he hid from the rest of Jackson, and then you’d fall into a comfortable silence, sometimes for hours at a time.

Weeks had passed like this, and every single day you got a little bit more interested in who the man really was, other than his clear infatuation with his horse. Right when he came in would be the time you talked the most, after about forty minutes it would get too busy and you’d work until the sun set. But those forty minutes started to stretch a little longer, and he seemed to gain interest in you, too. Maybe you were grasping at straws, but hearing Joel’s low voice rumble a few more words every time he spoke to you was doing wonders for your self esteem, and even you couldn’t deny the way your face warmed when he smiled at you.

“Hey, you still— damn. What happened here?” Joel calls from the gaping hole that is the stable door, and only because it’s his voice calling you do you look up.

“It’s been broken all day. I asked someone to fix it, but…” You shrug, sighing and leaning your head back on the small gate that was the only thing holding the horse behind you from leaping out down the main street. “I guess they had other shit to do. I can’t move it on my own.”

Joel considers you for a second, how your frame is backed against the gate, conveniently placed at the closest point to the open door. Then, he looks back to the door on the ground, and back up to you. He smirks.

“So you were plannin’ on sitting in here all night?” The weight of the day makes your shoulders slump forward, and for the first time you really consider your plan. “You gonna body check a horse when he makes a run for it?”

“Okay, it was a dumb plan. But, it’s that or let them all out and get stuck cleaning up the bar floor or something.” He smiles again, the setting sun behind him washing over his shoulders in a pretty orange colour. A tilt of his head in your direction has you standing up, taking the lead of his horse that he offers to you.

“You take him, I’ll go get my tools. Fix it up before sun down.” Before you can protest or tell him he doesn’t have to, he’s walking off to the right up the hill where his house sits.

You’d always been a bit jealous of the spot his house is. It’s far away enough from everyone that you get some real privacy, but close to the stables if you need a quick exit. He had a porch, too. One you spent a little too much of your time staring at during your work hours, when he spent his off days strumming a guitar right in your line of sight. He was just… peaceful to observe. He brought a calm to you that no one else seemed to be able to do, almost enough that you could forget about the world outside and just exist in that little bubble for a while.

You lead Joel’s horse inside, hearing it trample the door again, and hang up his saddle next to the stable. Joels horse is much like him— quiet unless provoked. You found it out the hard way when you first led it in with a routinely aggressive horse, thinking it’s demeanour would calm him down. The next morning you woke up to two very angry horses and a half bent gate of steel.

“Saved you your favourite spot.” You say to his horse, Old Beardy. You never asked how Joel picked the name, but for some reason it worked so well— at least, he was definitely older than most. “See? He’s right up there.”

The stable at the back was angled just right so that the small window at the height of a horses head pointed directly towards Joel’s porch. Not close enough to see anything other than the outside, but enough that you know it’s there. You don’t come in here often, Joel always taking his own horse in, but when you do you can’t help but notice the instant calming effect it has on Beardy— you might have more in common with this horse than half the people in Jackson.

When you find your way back to the front, Joel’s footsteps are trudging back down the hill. You’ll be fairly useless as anything other than company while he fixes the door, but you can’t seem to stop your heart from racing a million miles a minute as he gets closer and closer. Yes, he makes you forget about everything on the outside, but that’s mainly due to how insane he drives you. All those conversations in the stables and too long looks in town are just all too consuming, and now, when you see him come into sight, you have to put some physical difference between him and you.

“You don’t have to, Joel. Really, I’m sure someone’ll—“

“No, they won’t. Knowin’ the people around here, you’ll be sleepin’ on the floor till next year.” He bends down, and you drop yourself back to the floor and stare in some kind of mesmerised silence as he runs his hands over the broken hinges of the door.

In a few passing thoughts you’d never admit to yourself, you have an obsession with his hands. He was just so…capable. He could do so many things so easily— and some kind of backward wire in your brain fizzled with electricity at the sight of him in his element. He starts fiddling with tools, first starting to remove the broken hinge, muscles flexing as he tears off the old bolts.

“What happened?” He says, the words muffled by the screwdriver in his mouth.

“I have no clue. When I woke up this morning it was blown in. I spent a good hour trying to move it but it’s so—“ With one arm, he pulls it up to stand vertical, a fist wrapping around the edge of the gate. It doesn’t even look like he tried. “—heavy.”

“Come ‘ere and hold it straight.” He says, keeping one arm out in front of him, the other still holding the door up. “I won’t let it fall. Come on.”

“Like this?” You say, staring down at him as you finally reach the door and take a little bit of the weight. He flicks his eyes up, nodding and shifting on his knees to get a better angle on the door.

“Perfect.” He says softly, looking up at you for another split second before clearing his throat and screwing on a new hinge.

“You really didn’t have to do this, but thank-you.” Joel shakes his head, his fingers fiddling with a latch.

“Least I can do. Everyone should be up here helpin’ you anyways.” He stands up, and with only a barrier the width of a gated door, you can feel his body heat keeping you warm when he towers over you. “Keep holding it still.”

“Yeah.” You manage, eyes fluttering closed. “People help, though.”

“Oh, I bet.” He says, sarcasm dripping off his words as he laughs dryly.

“They do! Sometimes… I mean, it’s not their fault. I’m kind of a hermit up here. I don’t really make an effort, so I can’t blame them.” He stops working, his knuckles white over the railing of the gate, and looks to you.

“You’ve trained all these new horses to track better than those guys ever could. They’d die out there without ‘em. Carl doesn’t know his left from right— he got lost eight times last patrol. It’s cause of your horses he got back safe.” Joel’s face is more serious, his eyes sharp but still with a hint of softness that he often looks at you with. “Doesn’t matter if you ain’t makin’ friends. This ain’t middle school, and people should be helpin’ you no matter what. Least of all fixing a door.”

“That’s why I keep you around, Joel.” You smile lightly, his voice getting lower the angrier he gets.

“Good. You tell me next time, and I’ll come round and help. Avoid the whole town all together.” You hum, letting go of the gate as he hauls it up in the air and shuffled backward, setting it against the hinges. “How do you know so much about horses?”

“I lived on a farm, way back when. Besides, they’re easy to navigate once you get to know them.” Joel puts the screwdriver back in his mouth, and you can’t help but stare at him. The small scars on his face, peppered around his cheeks. Some are older, worn and faded, while the one across his nose is new. It’s not even scarred yet, still fresh

“You okay?” He says softly, tilting his head.

“Your face.” His eyebrows furrow, and you shake your head. “Sorry. You… did something happen on patrol? You have a cut—“

“Just a few clickers. Real old, hauled up in a caravan out west. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” The door drops into place, and he swings it out towards him. It sounds less squeaky than it usually did. “Good as new.”

“You should clean it.” You say, worry edging in your voice. “If it was clickers.”

“I’m fine.” He shrugs it off.

“Come on. It’s the least I can do. I have a first aid kit in the back, and then we can call it even.” He relents, locking the door behind him and stepping further into the stables. “Sit. I’ll get the kit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” You can hear a small smirk on his voice, and you roll your eyes, turning around to find the kit. “Why you got a first aid kit in here anyways?”

“You’re using it now, aren’t you?” You turn around, raising your eyebrows. “You’d be surprised how many people come here before going to medical. I started to stock up a little, do what I can. It’s not much, but I can clean it off and do some botched stitches until they see a real doctor.”

“And none of those guys came up to fix the god damn door?” He was getting angry again, and you tried to ignore the shiver that went up your spine when he spoke like that.

He was sitting on a small stool, putting him about waist height. When you stepped closer, shuffling your feet on the floor, he tilted his head up. His open legs invited you closer, nearly drawing you in with a magnetic field he was completely unaware of.

Armed with a cotton ball and disinfectant, your fingers were light enough to breeze along his jaw to hold him in place. He stares up at you, watching your eyes as they flit between the cut on his nose and his wandering gaze. His face is warm when you work up the courage to place your palm on his cheek, thumb gently smoothing over the salt and pepper flecks of his beard. He doesn’t flinch away when you press the cotton ball to his face, swiping across the bridge of his nose.

“Does it hurt?” You whisper, feeling the need to keep your voice low.

“No.” He does the same, the heat of his body making you shuffle slightly closer. His hands are in fists on his knees, like he’s straining to keep himself still. “Told you it was fine.”

“And I told you I wanted to help.” When you’re satisfied with the results, you take a fresh cotton pad and dry it up. “You might need stitches. It’s deep.”

“Go on.” He says, and you lean back, eyes wide.

“You want me to stitch your face together?”

“Good practise, and I trust you.” The simple words have your heart slamming against your rib cage, but instead of showing it you kneel in between his legs and search the contents of the kit for a needle.

“If I mess up your face, you knew what you signed up for.” When you find what you’re looking for, you straighten, Joel’s face is right in front of you. It takes you a second to realise just how close he is, and the position isn’t lost on him either. It’s probably the most emotive you’ve seen him, his jaw going tight from how hard he’s biting down.

“It’s already messed up. You’re fine.” He manages, his voice strained.

“Hold still.” Whispering the words, you lean closer and bring the needle to his skin. His eyes close, and it’s when you press the point into his nose that his hands shoot out in front of him, holding your hips gently.

“Sorry. Shit—“

“It’s fine. Are you okay?” He grunts in a way you think is affirming, so you keep threading the needle. You only need one stitch for a spot this small. “Your face isn’t messed up.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not. Messed up.” You feel his thumbs stroke along the bone of your hip just once before he stills again. You tie off the stitch, and his eyes open. “There. You’re pretty again.”

Your breathing was rapid even though you didn’t have a true reason for it, but neither of you moved. His hands— strong and so fucking capable, holding you still on your knees in front of him. His eyes were pools, inviting you in with a gleam of something shiny, and where you were nearly gasping he was calm and collected. In his element, like he was right where he should be.

The whole stable was a dull orange now, the colours dusting through the strands of Joel’s hair. It’s never really sitting right, wind whipping it out of control on patrol, but you have the urge to run your hands through it anyway. You let yourself explore one small piece of him, like he has to you, and your fingertips run back over the shell of his ear, tangling in his hair. He sucks in a short breath, leaning into the hold of your hand.

“Joel.” You say, voice so soft he would of never heard you if you weren’t so close, but you call for him and he leans closer. Your foreheads nearly touch, and his hands tighten their hold on you.

“Thank you, darlin’.” You sigh deeply, unable to keep yourself upright at the nickname. It rings through you, his accent strong and adding an entire other layer to why he’s so easy to fall into. You don’t even really notice how dark it’s gotten— you usually have sprinted home by now. But Joel’s here, and with him this close, you can’t think of anything else. He leans closer, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Can I kiss you?” He says, the brush of his lips against yours sending a tidal wave of need from your head to your feet.

“Only if you hurry up.” You answer helplessly, voice cracking, and he smiles against you and finally brings his mouth to yours.

It’s anything but calm. That peaceful energy of the stables is completely shattered and sorted into something electrical and sizzling. He yanks you forward, bodies pressing together as you use the leverage of your hand fisted in his hair to kiss him harder and deeper. It doesn’t take long before his tongue is swiping along your bottom lip, seeking permission.

You let him in— you’d let him do whatever he asked for if he kept pouring himself into you like this. He tasted good, which should be impossible but when you’ve been starved of something for this long it doesn’t matter what he does it’s just that he’s giving it to you. He moves his hands to the small of your back, pressing your hips right in the middle of his open legs, his other hand on the back of your head.

You feel him groan when you press together, the sound waking up parts of you that had been dormant for far too long. It was like he had access to each nerve in your body, and every little sound or touch had them blaring red and sparking.

“Fuck, darlin’. Come closer.” He groans into your mouth before kissing you again. You smile for a moment, not entirely sure how you could get any closer, and then it’s wiped off when he hauls you upward, hooking your legs around his waist on the stool. “Yeah. Right here.”

Your arms cling around his neck, his own searching up and down your body. Your shirt rides up with the movements and you moan every time he grazed along your skin. There’s something equally hard and soft about his hands— rough from years of work but soft with the way they hold you up, how they’re careful not to dip too low or high. You arch your back, giving him wordless permission, and he groans into your mouth again.

At some point you have to breath— both of you gasping for air in the quiet of the darkened stables. He brings his hands to your face, holding you against his forehead so he can look into your eyes. He was smiling too— like actually smiling, not that half smirk you’ve seen so often.

“What are we doin’?” He laughs, kissing you again.

“I don’t know, but can we keep going somewhere that doesn’t smell like horse shit?” You whisper and he laughs again. It’s sounds so good— like the sound of the beginning of your favourite song. It makes your heart sing, melting you into the tune. “Please, Joel. I really want…”

“Tell me, baby.” He moves, angles your head with swift moves of his fingers so he can kiss you lower. Under your jaw, and then he drags his mouth down, along your neck, teeth nipping softly… “Fuck knows I wanna hear you say it.”

“You. I really want you.” He hums against your skin, one arm hooking under your ass as he stands easily. You squeal, muffling the sound in the mop of hair on his head. As you walk outside, there’s only a few people still mulling around, and they turn their heads towards you when they hear your soft laughter mixed with Joel’s— two sounds that seem to alarm them more than clickers.

For the first time since you’d been here, you really don’t care if people are looking at you, or what they’re saying. When Joel locks the gate behind you and slides you down his chest to let your feet touch the floor, you are reminded once again of his ability to remove every single thought from your mind except him. Just him, and his hands on your hips, spinning you around and leading you up the hill towards his house. How every so often he’ll bend down, pressing his lips lightly to the back of your neck, and how you can feel his smile on your skin.

He guides you easily, your body on auto pilot to his small gestures, and when you finally rush up the few steps of his porch— one you’ve spent way too much time staring at from afar, you’re both attached to each others face like horny teenagers. He fumbles with the doors lock, jamming keys with aggressive force while his other hand stays soft and sweet on your waist, holding you against him. When the door gives out behind you he never lets you stumble, taking you in his stride with practised precision. You’ve seen the inside of his house, but never the layout, so as he guides you blindly through the hallway, your shut eyes and occupied mouth never see it coming when you fall backwards onto a bed.

“Let me take this off.” He mumbles against your lips, tugging at your shirt and jacket. In a tangle of limbs you both shove at the material, finally hooking it over your head. He presses you flat against the mattress again, hanging over you and running his hands up and down your sides in long, soothing strokes. “God damn gorgeous.”

“Your turn.” The blaze in his eyes dulls slightly at your comment, and he just bends to kiss you again. He links your hands in his own, pulling you away from where they were tugging at his shirt. “Joel.”

“Nothin’ there you wanna see, baby. Just let me look at you.” As sweet as his voice sounds, and as much as you want him to continue, you pull away from his greedy mouth.

“Please take your fucking shirt off.” You say harshly, biting at his bottom lip hard enough for his eyes to open again. He looks over you, taking in the sight of you under him with your arms pinned above your head, back arched towards him. He’s clearly contemplating how difficult it would be to ignore you, smirking a little when he looks up at your hands again.

“Or what? You gonna make me stop?” He kisses under your jaw, his free hand skating along your side, only stopping when his fingers reach the hem of your jeans. When he hears you gasp as his hand disappears under the fabric, he laughs. “Nah, you won’t make me stop. Want it just as bad as I do, don’t you?”

“But I want—“

“Shh, shh. I’ll give you what you want.” His mouth his dizzying— words and movements hot against your skin as his hand bypasses your underwear and drags slow circles against your clit, immediately drawing his name from your lips again. “There you go, darlin’. Feels good?”

“God— yeah, faster. Please.” Your chest was rising and falling so fast, trying to pull the air he was punching out of your lungs with every quick movement of his fingers. He hums at the praise, and you feel him shift above you, sitting up so he could slip one finger inside of you. “Fuck, Joel!”

“I know, baby.” He tilts his head up to kiss you again, tongue matching the fast and unpredictable pace of his hand. You can feel it building— pleasure rippling up your spine and fizzing low in your stomach, and your hands tug under Joel’s unrelenting grip.

He seems to forget he was meant to be holding you, his groans and concentration all focused on the way he was fucking you with his hand, so he lets you go, his hand going to hold your face. It makes you smile under him, but it quickly gets lost when you moan his name again, rolling your hips against him.

Now your hands are free, you have a moment of clarity when your eyes flutter open and see him staring at you; eyes flitting between your face and your chest. You want to have that— to see skin you’ve only thought about in the late hours of the night when you were alone, never admitting it to yourself when you woke the next day. You grab onto the hem of his shirt, ripping the denim up as far as you can, getting your hands on the bare skin of his back.

He doesn’t help you— too obsessed with the way you are writhing and moaning so loud the poeple down the street will know what your doing. Neither of you care about anything else than this, right here, and the fiery hot spark that’s lighting you up inside.

“Shirt, Joel.” You tug at the collar, then card your fingers through his hair and pull. He grumbles something, and then you whimper when his hand leaves you and he sits up on his knees. He was out of breath, towering over you and keeping you caged underneath him as he tore the shirt over his head and threw it behind him. When he leans back down, he doesn’t give you the time to admire him that you’d like, but you take what he gives you. He shoves your own jeans down, shaking them off you in one tug, and your eyes hardly have time to open before you feel the backs of your calves press against the flexing muscles of his bare shoulders.

“Perfect.” He says, speech almost slurred, and the look he gives you reminds you of the one he gave you in the barn. Before you can think enough on it, both of his hands hold your hips down and he gives you one last look before he buried his face in your pussy.

It doesn’t take much to have you screaming his name again, that sweet hot pleasure that was building so quickly comes rushing back with the wet heat of his mouth. He eats you out like he’s fucking hungry for it— pulling borderline shouts from deep in your chest, like something is bashing against your ribcage, only awoken by his complete and utter devotion. His tongue swirls and fingers curl, and you lose sense of direction, clawing at his hair and feeling his groan when you pull him into you.

There’s no where to go, stuck under his weight as he dives into your taste, at his mercy entirely. It was so different to see him undone— a sight you wouldn’t be able to forget next time he came into the stables all soft eyes and short words. No, here he was holding your eye contact, groaning your name as if you were the one doing this to him. He gave you no choice but to hurtle towards the edge of consciousness, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hold out under him much longer.

“Joel. Joel— fuck.” His lips wrap around your clit, sucking gently while his fingers curl inside you in a spot that has you seeing stars. “Oh, god—“

He doesn’t say anything when you cum, just groans into your pussy as he guides you through it. He sets pace and intensity, both of which are hard and almost unbearable, and he only drags himself away when you beg him to. Your legs shake, his hands smoothing over your thighs as his mouth presses wet kisses up your skin, over your stomach and chest, finally reaching your mouth with an overwhelming force.

You hum, tasting the combination of you and him together on his tongue, taking everything he needs to give you. He shuffles up, and you feel his cock pressing hard against your thigh, still straining in his jeans. You let him kiss you lazily, let him explore you this way while your hands busy themselves between your bodies, unzipping his jeans. When your palm brushes over his length still covered by his boxers, he hisses and his eyebrows furrow, like the pleasure is almost painful. You do it again and he shudders, pressing his forehead to yours.

“You’re so soft.” He murmurs past your ear when you slip your hand under the waistband. When your fingers wrap around him, you stay true to his word and stay light with your touch, not wanting him to finish just yet. You want to make it good for him— draw it out. Pay him back for everything he gave to you; not just tonight, but every night. “So fucking soft. Sweet.”

“You like that?” You ask innocently, stroking him again. Your thumb brushes over his tip and he shudders again, nearly shivering. “I can be gentle. Want you inside me, though.”

“Whatever you want. Fuck— anything you want to do to me. Please, baby. Not gonna last long if you keep doing that.” A single please was enough to grant him a thousand wishes, but you’ll settle for giving him just one.

He helps rid himself of the rest of his clothes, no insecurity in sight with the lower half of his body. There was no need to be… he was big. It made sense— he was a big guy, but it wasn’t just that. He was just… perfect.

“Eyes on me.” He says, pulling your gaze away from where your bodies are about to meet. “I want to see your face when I…”

He trails off when his tip lines up with your entrance. You bite your lip in anticipation, feeling the soaked pleasure coating him as he finally slides himself further and further. You both sigh, like a weight is being lifted from both of you. As if this was the way you were both meant to be.

He bottoms out, head buried in the crook of your neck as he chokes out your name. You feel full— the weight and stretch holding you to the bed, your arms strung lazily around his neck. Your fingers wander down his spine, keeping that soft lilt to your touch that he seems to thrive under. For all his hardness and strength, it’s the lightest touches that seem to crumble him the most.

“Fuck, baby. Feel so good around me.” Joel never speaks for the fun of it, but he says these things like he needs to. Strained and focused, like it’s a compulsion to tell you how good it feels. “Needed to fuck you for so long. You gonna let me make you feel good, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joel. Please, I need— need you to move.” You whine like a spoilt child, and you are now that you’ve had a taste. He laughs once, a breathless sound, and then pulls out nearly all the way, only to slide back in with that same trained pace.

“Good girl.” He groans, and then picks up the pace.

It’s devastating. It’s the only way to describe it. He fucks you hard and slow, slowly etching himself into parts of your being you aren’t entirely sure he didn’t just create himself. Like he’s forged apart of you just for him, something low and hot, and he hits it with every, perfectly timed thrust. The bed rocks under him, but he doesn’t seem to care. Its creaks and groans are drowned out by his words and both of your moans.

You are incoherent— overcome by pleasure that shocks even the nerves in your fingers and toes, but it seems to have the opposite effect on Joel. He doesn’t fucking shut up— and it’s about the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

“So fucking tight around me.”

“God, you feel good.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Gonna fuck you for days.” Is the last one you hear before his groans turn to borderline whimpers, his pace stuttering as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten and snap all at once. “Oh, fuck that’s it. Cum again for me. Jesus Christ—“

“Joel.” You can only whisper now— voice so strained that nothing could come out but his name. Your eyes roll back and you feel him fuck into you one or two more times, and then he pulls out and replaces himself with his hand. You ride out your pleasure on his skilled fingers, another wave of heat numbing you when you feel him spill onto your stomach, your back arching off the bed.

The room is suddenly dead quiet, nothing but panting breaths filling the silent house. He is still hanging over you, you can feel both of his forearms next to your head as he leans down to kiss you again. The warmth of his body is lifted just enough for him to use something soft to clean you off, and then he collapses beside you, tugging you onto his chest.

He runs his hand through your hair, stopping at your jaw to tilt you up. He kisses you again, the lack of oxygen making you giddy and dizzy, and you break the kiss only because your smiling so wide.

“What’s so funny?” He says, trying to be serious, but even in the dark you can see his matching grin.

“Just happy. Can I be happy?” It’s meant to be light hearted, but you feel him stop for a second, and then he tugs you a little closer.

“Yeah. Yeah, you can be.” He tucks you under his chin, sighing deeply as the rest of your body turns into him and tangles itself with him. “I am.”

You open your eyes a final time, seeing the pitch black dark outside. If it was light, you’d be able to see the stable from here, but it’s black out there. Usually it would make you uneasy, but tucked up under Joel’s safe arms, there’s nothing in the world that could make you feel more at peace.

tell me i'm right || joel miller 18+

a/n: this came outta nowhere and i loved it ekjrgeg

summary: joel miller feels he's too manly to take a bubble bath, but he should always remember – you're always right.

warnings: smut, pnv, fingering, slight dirty talk, bath tub sex, unprotected sex (whoops), no usage of y/n, this hasn't been proof-read so there are probably errors!

w/c: 2.5k

Joel Miller masterlist || My Library

The warmth Jackson had already provided was everything you needed after the chaotic last week. When Joel uncovered Tommy and his whereabouts officially, you were all working alongside each other to ensure this city was protected while also figuring out your next steps with Ellie. But until you had a gameplan in motion, you needed to relax as much as you could.

Tommy and Maria put you, Joel, and Ellie in a small home together and while Ellie was out exploring with Maria who promised to keep her safe – Joel nearly panicked when she tried to leave – that left the two of you alone. Hot water spilled through the pipes, and you were in dire need of a soak in the tub, Maria informed you there were some bath products you could use.

As you made your way into the bathroom, you noticed Joel stretched out on the bed with his shoes kicked off, feet and hands crossed. His hands were over his chest, and he looked exhausted.

You turned on the bath water and found the bubble bath, a smile stretching along your face as the steam from the water slowly began to fill the bathroom. You decided to see if you could convince him to join you. Making your way out of the bathroom, Joel slowly peeled his eyes open, brown irises following you slowly.

“Join me,” You call out as you stumble toward the side of the bed.

“What?” Joel responds, confused by your question. You tilt your head in the direction of the bathroom and Joel finally heard running water. “A bath?” He questions.

Nodding your head, you feel your way over his chest, fingertips dancing up his neck until you’re cupping his cheeks. With gentle swipes of your thumbs over his cheekbones, Joel stares into your eyes as he basks in the moment of silence.

“Ellie’s safe with Maria... You haven’t had a proper shower since we left Bill and Frank’s... Come on.” You say.

“Are you trying to say I smell bad?” Joel quickly lifts an eyebrow, earning you to softly giggle.

“No... But you could use some good hygiene. Me included.” You sigh. You turn your eyes back over to the opened bathroom door, hoping you could coax him forward. Joel took a few more solid moments to analyze the situation, thinking that maybe he deserved to sit in a porcelain tub filled with bath water. Plus he’d have you in there with him.

“Fine,” Joel finally agrees. You smile widely and take his hands, helping to pull him into a sitting position. He grunts, back aching. “Hold on, sweetheart. You’re a lot younger than me.” He laughs but finally stands up straight.

With a smirk, you roll your eyes. You were 36 compared to Joel’s 56. It oftentimes spooked him to realize that you were the same age as he when he lost everything, but he tried his hardest not to sulk. He was dealt his cards, and while he knew they were unfair, he had to keep carrying on.

“Why don’t we just take a shower?” Joel ponders when you cross the threshold into the bathroom. The tiled floors were solid white with stains in the grout from years of mishap, and the walls were still covered in a flowery wallpaper. The bathroom sink had a standard mirror hanging that showcased your reflection, and the tub was a big garden tub, probably one that was too big for such a small space, but it would do.

“Because a bath sounded better. A lot more relaxing. And I think you could use some relaxing, Joel.” You tell him like it is. That was one of Joel’s favorite things about you, you never held back from stating your opinions. It derived from your strong-willed nature, you were a powerhouse, a force to be reckoned with. Joel saw you fend for yourself out there in this dark and scary world, and never did you fall victim. You created victims.

 “What?” You pipe when he grows silent, grinding his jaw. “Too manly for a bath? Bubbles?” You rest your hands on your hips to observe him. It was the cracking of a smile on his face that made you fall apart, realizing that Joel Miller, this grumpy older man, thought he was too manly for a bubble bath. “Oh my God,” You break out into hysterics, hands falling on your knees.

“It’s not funny,” Joel crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know why this is so hilarious to you.”

You’ve got tears staining your cheeks and Joel is on the verge of twisting to get away, but you immediately pounce forward and wrap your arms lovingly around his waist, cheek nuzzled against the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t leave me.” You whisper, and Joel knows he’s putty in your hands. You were the only woman he’d submit for and that was saying a lot for his character.

Joel allows his hands to lay over yours and he can feel you starting to shimmy your hands up his chest to grab at the buttons. One by one, Joel feels you unclasp a button of his shirt. Soon his toned chest is completely exposed to the slight chill in the bathroom, but he turns around, and you swear it’s like looking at him for the first time all over again.

Gazing up at him, Joel meets your gaze with quite a stare – one that has your veins crackling with heat.

“I swear you’re perfect,” You whisper, leaning forward to press sweet, delicate kisses over his pecs. Joel’s eyes flutter from the warmth of your mouth, his hands gripping your hips. He’s gently rolling his fingers over the buckle of your belt, undoing it and slipping it free from your belt loops.

Joel feels your mouth make its pass over his neck, and that’s when he forces your head to crane to the side so you could see your beautiful reflection.

“No, she is.” Joel says, gently grabbing the hem of your shirt. He peels it over your head just as you the denim shirt over his shoulders. Your upper half exposed to the cool air this time, Joel watches as goosebumps become visible on your chest. He glances over at the filling tub, noticing it was practically to the brim and covered in bubble that gave off a lavender fragrance.

Letting you go momentarily; he walks over and twists the knob to their off positions before he returns to you. Your arms fall over his back, nails lightly scraping his broad shoulders as his lips move to find the spot on your neck that he discovered drove you absolutely wild for him.

Soft hitches of your breath fill the space as Joel reaches up to unclasp your bra, seeing as your breasts spill out. He groans softly before he kisses a trail down your checks, gently taking one of your peaked buds into his mouth. A moan tears from your throat as your back arches instinctively into Joel’s chest. He palms the opposite breast in his hand, his jeans growing tighter second by second through every little noise you make.

“You sound so pretty,” Joel hisses, nipping around your sensitive skin, watching as you bucked your hips forward into his center.

You reach for his jeans and unbutton them, dragging them down his legs. Joel watches and feels as your lips take their turn kissing his thighs, rippling muscles making you groan as you come eye-to-eye with his center. Joel’s fingertips chase through your hair and wrap around the roots, tugging ever so gently, encouraging you to stand up.

“Come on, baby... Waters gonna get cold,” His accent was thick, heavy with lust. You smile and nod your head as you two resume undressing.

Joel holds your hand as you step over the edge of the tub. You can’t stop the moan of satisfaction that falls from your mouth when the hot water touches your skin. Joel smiles to himself and he’s stepping over, presenting himself behind you. He wouldn’t lie to himself – the water felt amazing. He groans as his aching muscles take the beating of the hot water, relief almost instantaneously washing over him in seconds of submerging his body in the water.

As Joel takes his seat behind you, you feel his strong arms wrap around you.

He pulls you down against his chest, and somehow, all felt right in the world despite its rage-filled terror. For a split second, you felt like a normal couple, doing something that a normal couple would take advantage of.

“Feel good?” Joel asks when he begins taking handfuls of water and pouring them over your chest.

“Yes,” You moan. “This was my best idea... Admit it, Joel.” You tease him, head falling against his shoulder. Joel chuckles but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he focuses on the perkiness of your breasts, the gentle bumps and silver marks on your thighs and hips – he loved every part of you. You weren’t a picture-perfect model by no means, but you were seen as such in Joel’s eyes. It was the heart you carried in your chest that thumped to the wild tune of freedom, resilience, and strength. Joel admired that about you.

“Come on, Joel. Tell me I’m right.” You nudge him with a giggle.

Joel sighs, his hands moving to your inner thighs. He instantly feels the jump of your body, back pressing harder against his chest as he grazes the soft ripples of your thighs, inching dangerously close to a part of you that without hesitation, ached for him.

“Are you?” Joel ponders. “Are you right?” His hand completely misses your warmth, instead he chooses to tease you with gentle motions of his hands against your lower belly, your body enjoying the sudden change of motion, but you would be a liar if you said you didn’t want more.

“Yes, I’m right. I’m always right.” You bite down on your lip, hyper-focused on the relentless teasing of your lover. You were expecting a bath with your sweetheart, but of course, he had other ideas. And those ideas were ones you weren’t going to protest, not even in the slightest.

Joel nods as he catches your earlobe between his teeth. Hot breath fanned across your neck and the temperature in the water only seemed to rise to intensive levels, but you knew it was the magic pooling between your electrified touches.

“Then let’s see how right you are, mama...” Joel purrs, and suddenly, you release a gasp when he raises up. His chest pressed flush to your back, you could feel him growing beneath you, but the rock-hard length pressed against your back was much more than you expected, and a whimper cuts through the air. “Already whimpering for me?” He ponders, stretching his hands, flexing them until his dominant hand is cupping your soaked heat. He knew if he slid one finger into you, he’d have it easy.

Joel wraps his non-dominant arm around your chest, and the pressure of his forearm against your nipples has you biting down on your mouth. Joel spreads his thighs apart a little more to give you some much-needed room, his feet overlapping yours, so he keeps your thighs peeled open.

“Relax, baby.” He coaches you. “I’ll be gentle with you...”

Suddenly, the hand that’s cupping your sex is removed, but Joel quickly replaces it. Two fingers tease your folds as he spreads them apart, running his digits up and down, listening to the sweet little hitches of your breath, knowing he had you in his grasp.

“Joel,” You whine.

“Patient, darlin’... Be patient.” Joel says in your ear. “I’ll take care of you. You know that, right? I’ll never hurt you.”

You whimper again, but agree, “I know. I know you won’t hurt me. Need your fingers, please.”

Joel grins sadistically. “You know I can’t be a sane man when you say please,” He huffs. Suddenly, he’s pushing those two patronizing digits into your folds, the water in the tub sloshing around. Your hands fly out to grip the edges of the tub, but Joel refrains in your ear. “Around my shoulders, come on,”

With trembling fingertips, you reach behind his neck and interlock your fingers. Joel grins.

“That’s my girl... Come on, ride my hand... there you go, that’s it. That’s my beautiful girl.” He curls his fingers deeper inside of you, allowing your hips to slide back and forth. His thumb makes passes over your clit, the swollen bud making you feel dizzy with every pass that Joel made. “You feel so good, mama. Such a tight little hole, made perfectly for my fingers... My cock’s gonna feel so good inside of you, mama. You know that? Oh, look at you. You’re so perfect.” He knows the spilling of his words were building your climax to the point of no return.

A couple more thrusts of his digits into your center and Joel feels you clenching your walls around him. He kisses your neck, sucking and prodding with his tongue as he guides you through your orgasm, feeling you ride his hand to achieve every amount of bliss you could.

But he wasn’t done. His cock was hard, and he needed a release. So without giving you so much as a moment to breathe, that overpowering nature of Joel Miller shines through.

“J-Joel,” You moan, but it’s too late. He’s got you moving faster than you could blink, water spilling out of the tub as he hurriedly raises your hips. “Need you baby, come on,” He grabs himself and lines up to your entrance.

Joel raises up in the tub and he feels you when you sink down on his cock. A scream cuts through the bathroom when his length fills you to the brim, completely sheathed inside of you. Joel grounds his feet in the tub and as your thighs squeeze around his hips, you begin to bounce with his help.

“Shit, you feel so good,” Joel moans. “This sweet little pussy, it’s all mine. Tell me it’s mine.” Joel demands, wrapping his hand around your throat as he kisses your back.

“It’s yours, Joel!” You choke, squeezing harder around him as he bucks his hips forcefully into your tightness. You were still buzzing from your orgasm, and as Joel rides you, you grit your teeth, wanton moans filling the small bathroom.

Water continued to overflow onto the floor – another mess you would tend to later.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum!” You scream at the top of your lungs as Joel pounds into you with timed thrusts that have you screaming louder, the band being pulled back, prepared to snap.

“Cum baby girl, cum for me. Gotta feel you,” Joel coaxes you as he glides his fingertip around to tap against your clit. Another mind-blowing orgasm unfolds and it’s one that has Joel coming undone, shooting strings of his hot cum deep inside of you as he raises up to grip your hips so hard that he’s leaving crescent-moon shapes on your skin.

Joel’s a groaning mess when his forehead falls against your back, his lips hastily kissing your shoulder blades.

As you come back to the present moment after being sent above the point of cloud nine, Joel peeks over to see you smiling.

“I’ll admit it. You’re right.” Joel sighs.

You look down at him with a wide smile.

“I always am.” You say, falling into his chest.

family || joel miller

a/n: i'm not crying yOU'RE CRYING. also not proofread, so there are probably mistakes! 💗

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst but with comfort, fluff ending, ellie slipping up and calling you mom, joel terrified of having another kid because he lost his first one

pairing: joel miller x female!reader

w/c: 1.2k

Joel Miller masterlist || My Library

When it was deemed that you and Joel would be the caretakers of Ellie and she wasn’t being handed off to those crazy doctors, the three of you were trying to navigate life as what you called a ‘broken’ family. You all had your traumas.

            Joel lost Sarah.

            Ellie lost practically everyone around her minus you and Joel.

            You lost your own when the outbreak happened, and you had always been trying to find a way to feel normal again, even when normal was barely a thing you could remember nowadays. You had to create a new normal, and with it came definite hardships.

            Those hardships featured you and Joel trying to be who you were supposed to be, not just for Ellie, but for each other.

            Ellie had heard you two bickering to the point that she’d find a bedroom to hide away in, and she’d shove earbuds into her ears that she uncovered and drown out the noise with an old iPod you brought home to her.

            “What else do you want me to do, sweetheart? Tell me. Because I don’t KNOW!”  Joel screamed at you. He was tense. He was trying to figure this all out, and maybe that had something to do with you being pregnant in a world where nothing made sense.

            “I need you to BE there for me, Joel!” you scream. “I know you didn’t want this. But I’m not getting rid of it.”

            Joel slammed his hands down on the table, and Ellie could hear the bellowing echoes, earning her to close her eyes. She already knew you were pregnant, but she was waiting for you to tell her. Ellie saw you as the mother figure she lost, a woman who guided her through right and wrong. You gave her advice on love, and you tried to do your best for her, and it certainly was noticed.

            “I didn’t say get rid of it, baby. I never said that. But I don’t know how you expect us to bring a child into this world. We don’t lead normal lives! You KNOW that! We fight to survive every day.” Joel hisses, feeling his own tears prick his eyes. “I won’t fail another little girl!”

            You stop in your tracks and stand up straight. “Another little girl? Who said this baby was a girl? Sarah wasn’t your fault, Joel, she–“

            “Stop, don’t you finish that sentence.” Joel points a pointer finger at you. Even though some years had passed, Sarah’s memory still hurt his chest. He had developed panic attacks without even realizing it, and you knew the topic was overly sensitive for him.

            Ellie could barely take it.

            “And Ellie? You failed her too?” You ask through gritted teeth. “Because if it was left up to me to besides, you did a damn good job. We BOTH did!” You scream. “Maybe you should’ve been a little more careful then, Joel!” You point to your abdomen.

            “WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DO?!” Joel screams.

            “I WANT YOU TO STOP BEING SCARED AND BE THERE!” You scream back, and Ellie decides enough was enough.

            She comes barreling out of the room, her eyes fixed on Joel specifically.

            “If you scream at her ONE more time, I swear it’ll be you and me!” Ellie points her finger at him and moves forward to shove him away from you. Your eyes widen.

            “Ellie, this isn’t concerning you,” Joel looks down at her.

            You rest your hands on Ellie’s shoulder. “El, I’m sorry.” You look at her. She raises her hand and places it over yours. You kiss the top of her head and turn to walk away, heading into the kitchen area. Ellie looks back at Joel and squints.

            “What?” Joel asks her.

            “She’s pregnant, Joel. Stop screaming at her. It’s not healthy for her or the baby.”

            Joel’s eyes widen. How did she... Of course, she figured it out.

            “You overheard us.” Joel exhales.

            “Three days ago to be exact.” Ellie crosses her arms over her chest. “I know you’re scared, and it’s okay. She is too. I can’t believe a kid is having to give you advice but stop fighting with her. You two need each other. She puts up with so much not just out of you but me too.” She expresses, realizing she was going in over her head.

            Joel watches between you and Ellie. You were sniffling at the counter with your head turned, meanwhile Ellie was carrying on about you.

            "She is so patient with you for starters. I don’t know how she does it, but she does. She loves you. She loves me... I didn’t know what love felt like until she happened, and she means the world to me, and... And I won’t let you take that away from me!” Ellie suddenly begins tearing up. “I need Mom.”

            She didn’t mean for the word to slip. But you heard it. She didn’t say it too quietly.

            It was Joel who had the most shocking reaction. His eyes doubled in size, and he immediately stole your gaze. To hear Ellie call you mom was something he never thought he’d hear. His breath caught in his throat, and his eyes chased the journey toward your stomach that would grow in the coming months with a bump that he couldn’t deny.

            He’d go through the motions all over again.

            He’d hold a tiny little baby in his arms in nine, short months. He’d raise a little girl... He knew it was a girl. He was fighting with you about whether to keep it, but he already wanted that unborn child to be a girl. His second chance came with Ellie. Why not a third? He wanted to experience it all again, but he was unbelievably scared. The panic would set in, and he didn’t know how to take it.

            You slowly turn to look at Ellie who is frozen in her spot.

            “Did you just–“You inhale slowly, but don’t finish your sentence. You nod your head, feeling your eyes well with tears.

            Joel looks back down at Ellie who has tears running down her cheeks.

            He doesn’t waste another moment. He pulls the little girl he saw as his own into his chest into a bone-crushing embrace. Ellie gasps and finds herself wrapping her arms around Joel’s waist. He kisses the top of her head. She had gotten a little taller since the journey had ended.

            Joel finds your face and he motions for you to come over. You trudge forward and Joel wraps his arm around you, Ellie doing the same. The three of you stand there in a tight embrace, tears in everyone’s eyes.

            When Joel releases the two of you, Ellie looks at you.

            “I’m happy for you,” she tells you and hugs you on her own.

            You smile, pulling her closer.

            “Thank you, Ellie... Think you can be a big sister?” You ask her quietly.

            Ellie chuckles, nodding her head. “I think I could,” She laughs.

            Joel looks at you and nods. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

            You shake your head. “It’s alright, Joel. You’re scared. I am too.” You whisper, cupping his cheek as you lean forward for a gentle kiss.

            “Alright, enough with that.” Ellie sweeps out from under your arm. “I can’t deal with that if you two are just gonna stand there and suck each other’s faces.” She throws her hands up, aiming for the bedroom.

            “Yeah, kid. Get a room.” Joel calls out, causing Ellie to give him the middle finger. He laughs and searches for your mouth once more, his hand shakily moving to rest on your abdomen.

            Yeah, he was terrified.

i liked it

Solace - Pedro Pascal x Reader

Summary: Y/N is on the red carpet with Pedro, being best friends for forever but maybe, just maybe things may be about to change 

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: catcalling

Keep reading

spot the difference

Is perfect 👌

weakness (joel miller x female reader)

summary: An afternoon at Bill and Frank’s takes an unexpected turn for you and Joel when some feelings start coming to the surface.

pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader ; post-outbreak

warnings: Bill and Frank! Not really a warning, I am just obsessed. Set a few years before series timeline, salt and pepper daddy Joel but not all out quite yet. Hefty age gap (reader in her mid twenties, Joel is in his earlyish fifties). Soft!Joel, but not too soft. Dash of angst, a bit of fluff, and lots of Frank because he is a sweetheart.

length: 5.3k

Part II here

“Can you stop fidgeting for just one second, please?” Frank scolded lightly, bringing down the palm of his hand onto your shoulder in a small, quick slap in an attempt to get you to stop squirming. He then moved his hands back up to your hair, which was out of its usual braid and towel dried after a much needed wash. The sweet scent of the vanilla shampoo you’d used in the shower earlier that afternoon lingered deliciously in the air around you, a refreshing change from what your hair normally smelled like: grime and smoke from hours of work detail. After combing out all of the stubborn tangles that he could find, Frank then picked up a boar hairbrush and he carefully began to run it through your locks. He started from the roots of your hair and brought the natural bristles down, all the way through to your ends. “You know, I would be done a hell of a lot quicker if you would just sit still.”

You sighed softly, but impatiently, allowing yourself one final, uncomfortable little shuffle in the white wicker chair he had you perched on before giving into his request. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” You mumbled. You brought your knees up against your chest and let out another small sigh. You could picture the small, satisfied smile on Frank’s face as he continued brushing your hair. “So, tell me again why we’re even doing this?” You questioned him just a minute later, as if he hadn’t already explained it to you a dozen times; he wanted to do something special for you. “It kind of seems like a complete waste of time, don’t you think?”

“We’re doing this because you deserve get dolled up for once in your adult life,” Frank stated as a matter of factly. The world had ended when you’d been about seven years old, and he imagined that since then, you’d never done a single damn thing for your appearance—besides the occasional at home haircut you would give yourself every few months with an old pair of rusted shears. He’d have been absolutely right about that. “And besides, it's something of a special occasion today. It’s the first day of spring. The weather outside is stunning, our flowers are finally in full bloom, and we have a nice lunch planned to celebrate the new season.”

You couldn’t help the way the corners of your mouth turned upwards into a small smile. One might think that was kind of silly, given it was the end of the world and all, but you had to admit it, you admired the way Frank managed to find genuine happiness in the little things, like warm sunshine on the first day of spring. Or showing a friend what a proper hairbrush looked like. He had such a beautiful soul, something very, very people in this new world possessed.

“Your hair is so healthy,” Frank observed a few minutes later, setting the hairbrush aside. He took two handfuls of your hair from the front, twisting them gently and bringing them around to the back of your head. Frank secured them with a clear elastic band and then ran his fingers through your locks, maneuvering your hair until it cascaded perfectly around your shoulders in long, natural waves. He walked around your chair to face you, fussing until he made sure that every stand was neatly in place. “You should wear your hair down more often. It suits you.”

“Long, loose hair and work detail are a recipe for disaster,” You laughed, shaking your head at him. “Most of the work sites in the QZ require anyone who has long hair to keep it tied back, anyway.” You pushed your legs out away from your chest and planted your feet firmly on the floor. “Listen, Frank. I really do appreciate what you’re trying to do for me. It’s incredibly sweet, but there’s no point. In just a few hours, Joel and I are going to have to head back into Boston where my hair goes back into its braid and I have to change back into my usual, greasy old clothes.”

“Exactly. So why not just zip it and enjoy all of this while it lasts?” He suggested with a tiny grin.

“But Frank—”

“Honey, this is a fight you simply aren’t going to win, so hush. Now, come with me.” He took your hand, pulling you out of the chair and up to your feet. “Close your eyes,” he instructed, and you reluctantly did as you were told. Frank led you over towards the full length mirror in the far corner of his and Bill’s bedroom. “Okay. One, two, three—open them.”

Your eyes fluttered open and your mouth parted slightly in surprise.

“What the fuck,” You murmured under your breath, taken aback by the reflection in the mirror. The young woman staring back at you, she looked absolutely nothing like you. The hair, the hint of rosy blush on your cheekbones and the thin coat of nearly decades old mascara (that could not be healthy to put near your eyes, could it?) that he’d applied to your lashes; the tube had been bone dry, but Frank used a bit of water to bring it back to life.

Then there was the dress, oh god, the fucking dress he’d forced you into. His favorite part and your least favorite.

Frank had gone to the boutique and found you a dress to wear, and while it was just a tad loose on your frame, he insisted that it would look just fine on you with the help of a safety pin hidden at the back of it. It was simple enough, white with a subtle sweetheart neckline and thin straps that tied together at your shoulders. The delicate lace fell down in a flowing skirt to just a few inches above your knees and it itched like hell, especially at your sides. Wanting to add a finishing touch to the outfit, Frank had brought you a pair of brown, strappy sandals and he’d let you know that he had a couple of different color options for a cardigan in the event it got too chilly later.

“You look perfect,” he gushed.

You looked different. But that wasn’t exactly what shocked you. More than anything, you were taken aback by how normal you looked.

Sure, coming over to Bill and Frank’s always gave you a temporary sense of normalcy. They always allowed you to take a hot shower, to wash your hair and change out of your dirty shirt into new clean one. They always provided you with a warm meal presented on porcelain dishware that wasn’t chipped like the shit you had back home in your crumbling apartment in the QZ. You’d had several tastes of normal thanks to those two, but this drastic change to your appearance was overwhelming. Too overwhelming.

You didn’t think that you could ever look like this, not in this fucking lifetime.

Frank must have sensed how you were feeling. Still standing behind you, he placed his two hands on your shoulders and leaned his head forward, pressing his cheek against yours as his kind eyes met your tearful gaze in the mirror. “You look beautiful,” he whispered, giving your shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I really hope you feel beautiful. You deserve that much.”

Your lips parted slightly and you tried to speak, but words fell short. Afraid that you might burst into tears on the spot, you clamped your mouth shut and gave him the tiniest little nod.

Frank smiled. “Good. Come on, let’s go out front and have lunch.” His hands dropped from your shoulders and he ushered you out into the hallway and towards the staircase. Looking over his shoulder, he gave you a wink. “I’m eager to see what your man thinks of your new look.”

“What?” You sputtered out, almost tripping over your own two feet. “Who—you mean, Joel?”

Shit. You’d almost forgotten about Joel.

What was he going to say when he saw you like this?

What would he think?

Probably that you looked utterly fucking ridiculous.

“Who else would I be talking about? Bill?” Frank snorted. “Yes. Joel.”

You glared at his back. This wasn’t the first time Frank had teased you about Joel, and despite the countless times that you assured him that there was nothing going on between the two of you, he insisted on believing otherwise. “Don’t start with this shit again. He is not my man, and you damn well know that.”

“He might as well be,” Frank shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly as he led you down the staircase.

“Frank, I’m being serious,” You said. Normally, you weren’t so uptight about it all, but today, you weren’t finding his antics amusing in the slightest; not while you were wearing goop on your face and a fucking dress. “I’ve told you a million times that there is nothing between me and Joel. He’s my partner.” You paused briefly, realizing how that must have sounded, and added in emphasis, “He’s my work partner. We work together, Frank. That’s it.”

Frank stopped at the bottom of the staircase and turned to you, letting out a curious hum. “Hmm. And if I remember correctly, you two also live together, sleep in the same bed together, spend every waking moment from sunrise to sunset together—I have never heard of two work partners being that close, sweetheart.”

Stubborn, you tried again. “He’s like fifty!”

“The world ended and that’s your concern? An age gap? Please.”

“Frank,” You nearly pleaded his name. “I swear it. We’re nothing to each other. Joel is—well, he’s Joel. He’s not exactly the type of man who does that. You know, feelings and shit.”

He threw his head back slightly, letting out a loud laugh that echoed in the foyer of his home. “Oh, trust me. I know that much. Between you and me, I have to say that he reminds me a lot of Bill,” he mused. He noticed the horrified expression that crossed your face and laughed again, holding up his hands in defense. “Wait a minute, just hear me out. They’re polar opposites in some ways, but in most ways, they’re almost the same person. Joel is just like Bill. Cranky. Grumpy. He hates everyone and everything. Kind of man who’ll stab someone if they so much as look at him the wrong way.”

“Yeah, sounds like Joel Miller,” You had to admit. As much as you did not want to think of Joel being the same person as Bill, Frank had a pretty good point.

“But Joel also reminds me of Bill because he’s the kind of man who means well when it comes to the people that he cares about. The kind of man who will do whatever it takes to protect what’s his,” he further explained. He took a brief pause before questioning, “You trust him, right?”

You didn’t even miss a beat, answering, “With my life.”

He ticked an index finger at you. “Aha! Exactly! You know that Joel would never let anyone lay so much as a finger on you. He’d never let anything bad happen to you. And why is that?”

You stared at him blankly, unsure of how to respond. “Is this a trick question?”

Frank rolled his eyes and let out a heavy sigh, as if you’d missed the obvious. “It’s because you mean something to him. Whether you choose to let yourself believe it or not, you mean something to Joel.”

For a moment, it felt like all the wind had been knocked out of you.

Could Frank actually be right? Did you actually mean something to Joel?

No, that was impossible. Joel didn’t really give a shit about anything, except for surviving long enough to find Tommy again one day. And even then, he didn’t speak of his younger brother too kindly.

“Under that tough, rugged exterior, there’s a soft spot. It’s there, for you and only for you.” Frank’s eyes glimmered, speaking a truth he’d been wanting to tell you for the better part of the last several months. “You might need to do some digging to find it, but it’s there.”

“I just don’t understand why you would think that,” You confessed, shaking your head. “Joel has never said anything to me to indicate that I mean something to him. More often than not, I find myself wondering if even considering us to be friends is too generous.” You crossed your arms over your chest and let out a long sigh. “Yes, Joel looks out for me, but that’s only because we work together so well. I know my way around. He needs me, especially if he plans on getting to Tommy.”

Frank bit his bottom lip, stifling another laugh.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, darling. You don’t even realize it, do you?”

Your eyebrows came together, confused. “What? Realize what?”

“You are his weakness.”

He said it so simply, and yet there went the rest of your air leaving your lungs.

“Of course Joel isn’t going to tell you how he feels about you. He’s afraid,” Frank remarked, sounding so sure as if he had been told that by Joel Miller himself.

“You’re wrong. Joel isn’t afraid of anything,” You countered, hoping your voice didn’t sound as shaky to him as it did to you.

“He’s afraid because he knows how dangerous having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this.” Any trace of teasing or playfulness had disappeared from Frank’s expression. He spoke gently, but with such seriousness that made your heart sink further and further down into the pits of your stomach.

When you spoke again, your voice was strained, thick with emotion you were trying desperately to shove down. “Frank, you really need to put down the romance novels.” Before he could say another word to you about it, you placed a hand lightly on your stomach. “I’m really hungry. Can we go eat now? Please?”

Thankfully, he took the hint to drop the subject.

“Of course.” Frank took your hand. He opened the front door and led you outside and onto the freshly landscaped front lawn. He had been right, the flowers were in full bloom—the small, round table he’d set was positioned in a perfect spot so that no matter where anyone sat, they would have a view of the colorful roses and azaleas he and Bill had planted around the perimeter of the yard.

As soon as he saw you two approaching, Bill threw his hands up. “It’s about damn time!” He grouched loudly. “Jesus, Frank. I’m starving!”

“Sorry, got caught up inside.” Frank tossed his partner a sweet smile as he released your hand. “Look, I found myself something pretty!”

You blushed. You should have known better than to think he wasn’t going to make a fuss about you. “Frank, please.”

“Oh come now, you know I have to show you off!”

Joel, whose back had been turned towards you, furrowed his eyebrows and he glanced over his shoulder, looking to see what Frank was referring to. His dark brown eyes widened just ever so slightly, the grip around his glass of red wine tightening in complete surprise at the sight of you. Frank had failed, quite miserably, to convince him to dress up for the occasion, but at the very least, he’d talked him into wearing one of the nicer shirts he'd found at the boutique, a neatly pressed, sage green button up with long sleeves that, much to Frank’s chagrin, Joel had rolled up to his elbows. His graying, dark brown hair might have even had a comb run through it, but it was difficult to tell if the way his thick locks were effortlessly disheveled was natural or the result of his efforts to tame them.

“What do you think, Joel?” Frank beamed proudly, as if presenting the man with one of his painted art pieces.

Joel didn’t respond. His eyes remained glued on you, following as you walked around the table and took your usual spot beside him.

“Way to put me on the spot, Frank,” You muttered, your face growing warmer and warmer with every second that ticked by. You silently urged yourself to get a grip as you reached for the crisp, white cloth napkin next to your plate and draped it over your lap. The smoked, wild rabbit Bill had cooked up smelled heavenly—Frank knew it was your absolute favorite dish, and so he had made sure Bill put it on today’s menu.

Joel still hadn’t uttered a single word. Part of you hoped he wouldn’t.

“Joel?” Frank prompted as he picked up his own cloth napkin. “Doesn’t she look pretty?”

You glared daggers at him from across the table and hissed, “Frank!”

Finally, Joel set down his glass of wine and turned slowly, angling his body towards yours. When he spoke, his voice was low, but clear as day as he looked at you, “Very pretty.”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, causing your heart to skip a beat inside of your chest. Had he actually meant that?

“You look real nice,” he added, giving a subtle nod of his head. He let his sights linger on you for another moment before tearing his gaze away. He turned back to the table, picking up his glass of wine once again. He chugged what was left of it and then reached for the bottle, pouring himself another.

Bill cleared his throat roughly. “Well, if everyone’s done playing dress up, I’d really like to fucking eat now.”

Meals with Bill and Frank were always pleasant. Well, meals with Frank were always pleasant. Although Bill had gotten used to having you and Joel over as guests and didn’t see either of you as a threat anymore, he still preferred to keep you both at arm’s length, a choice you two respected. He hardly ever said much and often chose to let his partner do all the talking unless the conversation had anything to do with trading supplies.

As you tucked into your meal of rabbit and garden vegetables, you could feel Joel throwing subtle glances your way every so often. It was half expected that he would, seeing as he’d never seen you like this before. He was used to seeing you in tattered, dirty old clothes with dirt and grim caked onto your skin and in your hair. Surely he must have felt like he was sitting next to a complete stranger, not his work partner.

About an hour later, once everyone had finished eating, you offered to help Frank clean up the table and wash the dishes. He settled for letting you help him bring everything inside, but shooed you away before you could even think about lifting another finger. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it,” he said, waving you away from the kitchen sink with his hand. “You and Joel are taking off in just a couple hours, so go on and get some rest,” he suggested. “Oh, by the way, we found some new books to add to the collection. Might find something you like, go check them out.”

“But I forgot my library card at home,” You joked lamely, although it earned you a sincere laugh from your friend. You padded out of the kitchen and into the living room, straight over towards a grand oak bookshelf that was packed tightly with dozens and dozens of books of various genres. You hadn’t been much of a reader before, but thanks to Frank, who always sent you home with at least two or three works in your pack, reading had become one of your favorite hobbies over the last few months. You started searching among the titles for the new finds he’d mentioned. Spotting one of them, you picked it up, a paperback titled, A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Opening it up, you started thumbing through the pages, quickly realizing it was a play—you’d never read a play before. Still not convinced if it was one you would like to take home with you, you flipped back to the first page and started reading with a curious little, “Hmm.”

You had been so preoccupied with it that you hadn’t noticed Joel standing behind you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest until he cleared his throat, and asked, “Find somethin’ good?”

Startled, you whirled around, nearly dropping the book in your hands. “Jesus Christ, Joel,” You breathed out, clutching it tightly against your chest as your heart rate returned to normal. “Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

“Not my fault you were too busy with your nose buried in a book,” he stated, trying his hardest to fight the small smirk threatening to cross his lips. He uncrossed his arms and pushed himself away from the doorframe.

A chuckle escaped you, almost nervously, as he slowly started walking over towards you, his brown boots heavy on the hardwood floors. He took the book from your hands, giving a low hum as he read the cover. “Shakespeare, huh?”

“You know Shakespeare?” You tossed him a teeny, lopsided smile as you teased, “He from your time?”

Joel lightly smacked your arm with the worn paperback. “Yes, I know Shakespeare and he was about four hundred fuckin’ years before my time, thank you very much.” He flipped it over, eyes skimming the text on the back. “Had the world not gone to shit, you would’ve grown up and spent your entire middle school career being forced by English teachers to read his shit and write essays tryin’ to interpret it all.” He handed it back over to you. “Here.”

“Sounds like a real dream,” You deadpanned. You glanced down, running your index finger down the cover. You were trying, almost painfully, to ignore how Joel’s eyes were glazing over you from head to toe.

“It’s kinda nice,” he said quietly, breaking the brief moment of silence that had fallen over the two of you. “Seein’ you like this.”

You kept your eyes fixed on the book. “What? In a dress?”

“When we’re here, you let your guard down. Ain’t always lookin’ over your shoulder. You smile a hell of a lot more.” He paused, then added, “You look happy here. Sure, this dress looks nice on you. Your smile looks even better, though.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. More than his words, it was the genuine tone in which he said them—you’d never even realized Joel noticed things like that. Whether you were happy or not, how often you smiled. Or didn’t smile.

You forced a small chuckle. “It’s the only sense of normalcy that we get. Of course I look happy when we’re here. Because I am happy when we’re here.” Still refusing to meet his eyes, you turned around and walked over to the couch towards your pack. Opening the top, you quickly shoved the book inside. When you heard Joel’s footsteps coming up behind you, you stiffened slightly.

“Frank, he adores the hell outta you,” Joel remarked. He seemed to hesitate, but then continued, “You ever think of askin’ him to stay?”

“You kidding?” You scoffed in response. “Bill wouldn’t allow that.”

Joel’s hands went to his hips, knowing you had a point. “But you know Frank can convince him of almost anythin’, don’t you? And besides, believe it or not, Bill actually likes you. He loves Frank more than anythin’ and you make Frank happy.”

You finally turned around and were caught a little off guard by how close he was standing to you. “Joel, what exactly are you getting at?” You raised an eyebrow before playfully asking, “Are you trying to get rid of me or something?”

Joel quickly shook his head. “Of course not. All I’m sayin’ is that…” He stopped and lowered his voice just in case Bill or Frank happened to be nearby. “I like seein’ this side of you. The happy side. The normal side.” He shrugged his shoulders, the lean muscles of his upper body flexing with the movement against the fabric of his shirt. “Seein’ you all cleaned up, well fed and content…” He trailed off once again. “Shouldn’t be a rare occurrence. You’d clearly be better off here with them and you know with Frank’s help, we could talk Bill into it.”

The second you realized Joel was being serious, your smile faded a little. “What? But what about you?”

“Frank’s not a damn miracle worker. Even if he tried, that’s not somethin’ Bill would ever go for,” Joel admitted, lifting a hand and raking his fingers through his hair. “And even if he did, we’d fuckin’ kill each other by the end of the first week.”

Bill and Joel being neighbors?

Talk about a different kind of apocalypse, You thought to yourself.

“I know that much,” You replied with a tiny eye roll. “What I mean is, do you honestly think that I would leave my life in Boston?”

“That’s no fuckin’ life—”

You held up a hand, stopping him. “I know it’s not. But it’s my life with you, Joel.”

The rough creases on his forehead suddenly softened. That was the first time you’d ever seen that happen. The scowl on his face wasn’t permanent after all.

“Yes, this is nice. This patch of town, this house, the running water, the food, the clothes—this is a decent life. More than decent. In this world that we’re living in, this place is heaven. But without you, all of it would mean absolutely nothing to me. I wouldn’t be happy, not without you.”

Joel tilted his head back, shaking it lightly. “Think about what you’re sayin’ here.”

“I know what I’m saying.” Before your brain and your body could even make the connection, you found yourself taking a step towards him, shrinking the gap between your bodies even further. You looked up at him, somehow finally finding the courage to have your eyes meet his. “I refuse to leave your side, Joel. That’s never going to happen. Not if I can fucking help it. Do you understand that?”

Joel’s exhaled a breath he’d been holding, his warm breath tickling your face.

“I mean it, Joel. We’re in this shitty ass world, together. No little slice of heaven could ever get me to leave you behind, no matter how good it is,” You declared, silently wondering to yourself where the hell you were finding the balls to confess all of this to him.

“You’d be safer here than in the QZ, with all that shit’s that been goin’ down—”

“I’m the safest when I’m with you, Joel. I know I am.”

You lifted your hand to his face. At first, there was hesitation on your part, but you willed yourself to place it on his cheek. Although your touch was gentle, Joel couldn’t help but wince. Not because he didn’t want it, but because it had been so damn long since anyone had ever touched him like that. Since he’d let anyone touch him like that. He closed his eyes and after a second or two of resisting, he finally allowed himself to relax his tense muscles and sink into your touch.

Joel let himself savor the feeling of your hand on his face. His bottom lip gave a subtle tremble when you softly started to graze your thumb down along his jawline. His beard, which you often playfully teased him about now that it was beginning to gray just like his hair, felt rough and scratchy, and yet somehow still soft underneath your fingertips.

“Hey,” You murmured, and he forced his eyes to snap open. “We’re in this together. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it’s going to stay,” You assured him. “My place is with you, Joel.”

Joel managed to speak through tight lips, his voice strained. “You really fuckin’ gotta stop talkin’ to me like that.”

You carefully moved your hand away from his face, letting it drop back down to your side. “Why?”

“Because.” His voice was hoarse. “Shit like that’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous,” You repeated, almost laughing. “Of all the things…”

Then, Frank’s words from earlier came to mind.

You’re his weakness. He knows how dangerous having a weakness in the form of a person he cares about more than anything can be in a world like this...

Joel’s dark eyes flickered to the strap of your dress, noticing it had started sliding off your shoulder. Before he could stop himself, he reached out and pulled it up back into place, his rough fingers brushing against your smooth skin. “You’re so soft,” he murmured under his breath. All those fucking years of working with you, even sharing a bed, and he had no idea of what it was like to touch you.

“Joel…” Your heart had all but climbed up into your throat.

“Everythin’ you just said a minute ago, ‘bout not wanting to stay here without me,” he started to say, “I know that it’s fuckin’ selfish, but I’m glad you said it. Because no way in hell do I want a life without you. I know it’s wrong but—”

Placing your hands delicately on his shoulders, you lifted yourself up on your toes and cut him off mid-sentence by pressing your lips softly against his. The clean scent of the soap Frank had given him to shower with filled your senses and you yearned to have more of him, you nearly ached to get a real taste of him—but your courage only went so far. Thankfully, Joel knew to take over from here. One of his arms found its way around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest while the other reached up, the warm palm of his hand pressing against your cheek. His tongue swiped lightly across your bottom lip, silently asking for permission to explore your mouth just a little bit further.

You eagerly granted him access, half expecting his mouth to ravage yours.

Much to your surprise, Joel remained gentle.

The way that he kissed you, the way he held your body against his, the way his calloused hand delicately cradled the side of your face…

“Joel,” You nearly whimpered his name when he broke away. His face remained just inches from yours.

“Fuck,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against yours, fighting to catch his breath. “We’ll need to get goin’ soon...”

“I know.” You nodded. You could sense that Joel, much like yourself, was at war with himself over what had just happened. Not that either of you regretted it, at least you certainly didn’t, but the realization that you two had just crossed a line you could never come back from was daunting.

Joel lifted his head, lightly pressing his lips against your forehead. He then forced himself to release you from his arms and stepped back, dropping them back down at his sides. “I need to, uh, I need to go get some things from Bill, get my pack ready before we take off.”

You nodded again. “I’ll start changing and get another pack of supplies ready as well.” You paused, clearing your throat awkwardly. “Joel, about what just happened...”

He silently shook his head before leaning down, capturing your mouth with his.

This kiss was short and quick, and when he pulled away, he said nothing. He turned on the heel of his boot and disappeared, heading out to meet Bill in the basement.

Your hand flew to your mouth, your fingers lightly touching your lips.

“Well, well, well.”

Looking over your shoulder, your face flushed a deep shade of red when you saw Frank standing there, hands on his hips and a satisfied, smug expression on his face.

“How long have you been standing back there?”

“Long enough.” Even from a distance, you could detect a twinkle in his eye. “What did I tell you?”

You turned away from him, biting your lower lip.

So maybe he’d been right after all.

Maybe you were Joel’s weakness. But he was yours too.

this is so good

Us against the World

Summary: It’s one of those days where everything feels utterly hopeless. Joel reminds you that you’re not alone.

Disclaimer: Set post-outbreak, before the show starts.

Warnings: Talk of depression, hopelessness, reference to suicidal talk but not explicit

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Safe-house. Safe-house. Safe-house.

You repeat those words like a chant, a mantra, in your head as you keep on forcing your feet along the dirt and pebble-filled path. A couple days ago, you and Joe had found a miraculously abandoned building that seemed like it used to be a Firefly safe-house. There wasn’t any electricity, but there was some water and heat. You had gone on a simple supply run only to be ambushed by FEDRA officers. Now — you were going home.

You weren’t foolish enough to think of the safe-house as home. No — you and Joel would be moving on in a few days, probably. So when you said home, you meant him. The love of your life. Your reason for living: Joel Miller himself.

Keep reading

Otra list about pedro pascal fanfiction... so enjoy it

joel miller fic recs vol. 2 ✯

⇾ 18+ minors dni, read at your own risk! ⇽

happy reading and enjoy! thank u writers we ❥ u!

previous ⇾ vol. 1

series ✰

come home — by @imtryingmybeskar

the hawk and the canary — by @dino-fart

confused warmth — by @rise-my-angel

daughter’s best friend — by @coolgrl111

texas sun — by @from-the-clouds

my bestfriend — by @mannaima

mrs. miller — by @fantasyqueen502

the stable girl — by @guess-my-next-obsession

fallacy: reject me, i get it— by @cherry-clafoutis

the beginning of us — by @companionjones

one-shots ☆

i’m right here — by @orangevtae

morning, darlin’ — by @mandoalorian

dinner date — by @juletheghoul

running free — by @aphroditesmoon

lucky & pt.2 — by cherry-clafoutis

not a thing — by @cevansgoatee

for you, anything — by @mellowsaturns

say you love me — by @thot-of-khonshu

i won’t let go — by @youlightmeupfinn

untitled — by @forever-rogue

fears — by @nonexistent-introvert

blushing — by @talaok

warmth — by youlightmeupfinn

what comes after — by @jobean12-blog

gift (giving) — by @inklore

maybe now — by @supernaturalgirl20

tricks of the trade — by @mypoisonedvine

connected together — by @flightlessangelwings

these burdens we carry — by @thedgeoftheuniverse

if he wanted to — by @sl-ut

in the dead of night — by @egcdeath

love in the time of cordyceps — by @sameheart-sameblood

from eden — by @nexusnyx

religion's in your lips — by @millersdjarin

safe and sound — by @disturbedbeautywrites

it's chemical that make me cling to you — by @cockslutpadalecki

perilous companion — by rise-my-angel

short days, long nights — by @frannyzooey

us against the world — by @ynscrazylife

after the end of the world — by @narcosfanficworld-blog

gone soft — by @blathannabeaga

weakness — by @cevansgoatee

the price of a life — by @criticallyacclaimedstranger

a way to quiet the mind — by @inlovewithquestionablecharacters

seeing joel again — by @imamotherfuckingstar-lord

late spring — by @heartpascal

save a horse, ride a cowboy — by @mandoalorian

the gold — by heartpascal

i never stopped loving you — by @musings-of-a-rose

never enough — by @joels6string

mini pedro pascal fic rec list ✫

the seat filler — by @whiskeyncoke-redux

(series) wildest dreams — by @i-magines

sunflower — by @writersblog20

strawberries & champagne — by youlightmeupfinn

papi — by @missbabyjay

well... is obviously that i have a big problem with Pedro daddy pascal so I'll be reposting all fanfiction about him

pedro pascal ⏤ b's masterlist

any use of my work outside of reblogging or credited reference is untolerated. it is my own. please do not copy and paste it, please do not share it on another site. plagiarism is not cool thanks bye.

pedro pascal fanfiction on this blog could include sexual content, please read summaries for warnings complete masterlist

joel miller (hbo)

one-shots

i'll fix it for you

me and you

#pedropascal

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

SMUT:

Call Him Daddy

All for Me?

Soft Lover

Mando's Kinks

Friends with Benefits on Narcos

Trying for a Baby

Fingered to Tears

Degrading

Fucking Enemies

Obsessed - Javier Pena

The First Time - Din Djarin

My Toy - Din Djarin

Inexperienced - Oberyn Martell

Punished - Joel Miller

FLUFF:

Movies and Edibles

Rain at the beach

Pretty

Stay with Me

New Years

Pretty Boy

Southern Accent

Proud

Accidentally Spotted

Welcome Home

Spanish

Cleaning his Glasses

Admiration

I'm Home!

Wink Wink

I'll Keep You Warm

Bad Day

Physical Touch

Unexpected Christmas Together

Nervous Mistletoe

Costume Change

Sugar Daddy

Drunk in Love

Power's out

Do I Look Pretty? - Dad!Pedro

New Neighbor - Agent Whiskey

Home - Marcus Moreno

Cat's Out of the Bag - Marcus Moreno

Sleepy - Din Djarin

First Kiss - Din Djarin

I Love You - Din Djarin

In This Together - Din Djarin

A Well Needed Hug - Din Djarin

You Can Stay - Javier Pena

Is This Your Shirt? - Javier Pena

Dating - Joel Miller

Nicknames - All Characters

ANGST:

Lasso - Agent Whiskey

Helping Hand - Din Djarin

Memories - Part 1

Memories - Part 2

MISC.:

Husband!Pedro moodboard

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

Instagram

REBLOGS ARE MUCH APPRECIATED❤️❤️❤️❤️

Hey taemin is my crush too

Ecstasy

pairing: taemin x female reader

genre: smut

warning: spanking, multiple orgasm, dom!Taemin, sub!reader, squirting

wc: 0.4k

i accept constructive critism, likes and reblogs are appreciated. thank you for reading!!

Keep reading

I love Mathew

𓅨 An Offered Apple

An Offered Apple: You, a mortal and a librarian, have just died and Death has come to guide you to the afterlife. Unfortunately for Death, you are too stubborn to give up your library life. So one deal later, you are a permanent resident in The Dreaming and a librarian for Dream. Dream has taken a liking to you and after an innocent gesture, you find yourself drowning in embarrassment.

Warnings: Morpheus is Looking for an Excuse to Make a Move (Reader Inadvertently Gives Him One), Oblivious, Naive, & Meek Reader, Morpheus is Head-Over Heels in Love W/ Reader, Segmented Reading, Reader Accidentally Asks Dream of the Endless to Marry Her.

To Note: Morpheus/Dream x Librarian!FemaleReader, this idea is from this convo, here you go @wickedly-grim.

Word Count: ~8.3k

When you had died and Death came to lead you to the afterlife, you hadn’t wanted to leave. In fact, you had refused. Books were your life as was the library you had worked at, you weren’t going to give that up just because you had died. Perhaps a bit dramatic, but you loved books more than anything in your entire life. So you had made a deal with Death, and was dropped off in a place called The Dreaming. Then you were introduced to Dream, Death’s younger brother, Lord and King of The Dreaming. It was disturbing to know that he had seen all of your dreams, but the moment you had been shown the library… all thoughts of Dream of the Endless had flown from your mind and you had started geeking out over the endless rows of books. You had happily spent the last three weeks as Lucienne’s personal assistant, which made her very happy because apparently, Lord Dream had been gone for 106 six years and there was plenty of work to be done around the palace. She was busy and couldn’t do everything herself.

At the moment, you were organizing some books that had  appeared. Humming to yourself as you walked through the library, you rotated the large books in your hands to look at the spines. W. You looked up at the nearest aisle, which had a gold R on the dark wood shelf. Close, but not W. Moving further down, the library shelves shuddered as they shifted and changed to the W section. From there you turned down the nearest aisle and peered at the spines of the books: Walder, Wash, Water, Web, Webber, Webbins, Whigg… You walked along until you reached where the top book in your stack needed to go. Taking the book from your stack, you rose up on your toes and pushed it in place. The bookshelf shivered in happiness at another book being accepted to its shelf and you moved on to shelve the next one.

“Y/N! Y/N, where are you?” Lucienne’s voice cut through the tune you were humming and sliding book in place, you trotted out from the aisle to see Lucienne with a harried look on her face.

“Yes, Lucienne?” You asked, blinking at her before frowning at just how stressed she looked. “Is something wrong?”

“We’ve just received a larger than usual influx of books and I do not have the time to both shelve them and assist Lord Morpheus in his research.” The harried head librarian rushed out. You hadn’t seen her this stressed since arriving.

“I’m almost done shelving these books, I can start with the new order if you need me to.” You offered. Lucienne quickly shook her head.

“No, no I think I will take care of the shelving.” She spoke, eyeing the unending aisles behind you. Then Lucienne gestured to a stack of books on a nearby table. “Will you please take these books to Lord Morpheus, for me? He should be in the throne room.” She wanted you to do what? Your jaw open and closed a few times, no words coming from your mouth for a good minute.

“I beg your pardon, Lucienne but are you sure that I—“ Lucienne looked over her glasses at you.

“Y/N, are you afraid of Lord Morpheus?” You gulped and looked away from her piercing eyes.

“No…” Her eyebrow rose at you and your shoulders deflated. “Lucienne, he is an Endless. What isn’t there to be afraid of? I’m a menial little human and his gaze is intimidating.”

“Y/N,” Lucienne chided, giving you a look. She inclined her head towards the stack of books Lord Dream wanted. “Books, throne room, now.”

“Yes ma’am,” You squeaked out, setting the books you had been in the processes of shelving, down, and picked up the books Lord Dream wanted. You scurried out of the library with your tail tucked firmly between your legs. Lord Dream was scary, Lucienne was terrifying.

Clutching the books to your chest, you walked through the palace while your eyes flittered everywhere. You spent most of your time working in the library, and when you weren’t working, you were in your cottage, parked in front of your fireplace, reading. You didn’t know much about the castle and hadn’t taken the time to figure out where everything was. The palace changed periodically to Lord Dream’s whims and desires and to be frank, you were still having a hard time wrapping your head around the realm. Trotting down the hallway that would open up to the throne room, you came across Mervyn who was lumbering his was out of the throne room.

“Hey, Y/N, Loosh got ya runnin’ errands?” Mervyn spoke as you came to a stop next him. You nodded and looked down at the large books you had pressed against your chest.

“We just got in a rather large influx of books that need shelving,” You explained, nodding your head in the direction of the library. “I offered to shelve them since I was almost done with the W’s, but I think Lucienne was stressing about them and wanted to do them herself.” You then patted your hand against the bottom book in your arms. “I’m to deliver these books to Lord Dream.”

“She upgraded you from devoted follower to errand girl, congrats,” Mervyn said, his jagged mouth curving at the side. You scowled at him.

“I am not a devoted follower Mervyn!” You exclaimed sharply, shooting the pumpkin headed janitor a dirty look. “I just really love books!”

“Yeah, I got that, kid. You eat, sleep, and breathe books… just don’t let Loosh wear you ragged, kid. It’s nice to have you around.” Mervyn replied before lumbering off in the direction of the east garden. Letting out a huff, you turned back to the entrance to the throne room and steeled yourself. You could do this, it was just a delivery of books, Lord Dream probably wouldn’t even give you a second glance.  Marching forwards with a tight grip on the books, you entered the throne room… only to come to a screeching halt and all but blanch at the magnificent stained glass windows rising to the eaves of the room behind the throne. Light flooded through the colored glass and illuminated the depictions. Then your eyes trailed upwards to see swirling glass overhead, morphing between shapes.

First is was a blue and purple swirl of colors, shifting into a woman with wings that sparkled like a dark nebula. Then those dark and mesmerizing colors swirled into an orange red. A man with a hat  appeared, he had a large smile… but before you could really figure out what he was, the glass shifted once more. An explosion of greens appeared, depictions of plants, trees, and flowers rotated and twisted. You hadn’t realized that your attention had been completely absorbed by the glass until a voice spoke from the ground.

“Hi there!” You took a step back in surprise before dropping your gaze to see a raven standing in front of you. The raven shifted it’s wings.

“Hello,” You replied quietly, your head tilting to the side in curiosity. Lucienne had explained that Lord Dream had a familiar, a raven, named Matthew. “You must be Matthew.” Matthew hopped in place.

“Oh! You’ve heard of me?” You could have sworn that his chest puffed up proudly. “Yes! I serve Morpheus… or at least help him out.” The raven explained. “And you must be Y/N, the new librarian Lucienne is very territorial over.

“Territorial over?” You repeated in confusion. “How is Lucienne territorial over me? I’m just a librarian…”

“Oh that’s because she likes having you all to herself, you know, helping with the library… just don’t tell her that because she’ll pluck all my tail feathers out.” You made a face at the image and nodded in agreement. Lucienne would pluck Matthew’s tail feathers out if she was pushed to that point. “Lucienne’s already chased off several residents trying to get to know you.”

“She has, has she? This is the first I’ve heard of it.” You mused quietly, your eyebrows pinching together. “Never mind that, Lucienne has tasked me to bring Lord Dream the books he requested.” Your eyes looked up to the throne and you saw the Endless in question, sitting on the curb stairs to the throne. Star filled blue eyes rose to meet yours and you let out a noise in the back of your throat. You dropped your eyes and stared at the floor, glancing at Matthew. “If you will excuse me, Matthew, I should make my delivery and get back to the library.”

Like a frightened mouse, you scurried up to the steps, cleared your throat, and offered the stack of books to Lord Dream.

“The books you requested, Lord Dream.” You squeaked out, trying your hardest to keep your hands from shaking. He closed the book he had been reading and set it aside, then took the stack of books from your hands. You nearly jerked when his fingers brushed against yours. But rather than jerk back like he had burned you, you waited until Lord Dream had a good hold on the books and then retracted your hands to your chest. “Is there anything else I can do for you while I am here?”

“If you wouldn’t mind returning this book to Lucienne for me, I would be most appreciative.” Lord Dream answered, offering the book in question. Nodding obediently, you took the book from him and turned to step back down. “Y/N…” You froze in place, a rush of worry and dread filling your body.

“Yes, Lord Dream?” You hesitantly asked, your mind thinking over the worst case scenario’s in rapid succession. You could feel him wanting you to look at him and ever so slowly turned around to look at him. He didn’t look mad or irritated, his face actually looked tender and concerned.

“Will you not address me as Morpheus?” Your eyes widened and you stuttered to reply.

“Well— I’m mean— I’m— surely I am… not in a position to address you with such familiarity…” You softly sputtered out, holding the book you were to return to the library against your chest as a shield. “I’m just an assistant…” A pitch black eyebrow rose in amused question.

“Are you,” Lord Dream echoed, his eyebrows then bunched together. “Will you still be resistive to the notion even if I ask you to address me as such?” Your mouth opened and closed repeatedly while you struggled to reply.

“I— well, if my lord demands so…” You whispered out, chewing on your lip and curling your fingers into the hard cover of the book.

“I do not demand so, Y/N, I simply wish you to call me by my name.” Lord Dream— Morpheus, spoke, still just as calmly and softly as before. “While I am the king of Dreams and Nightmares, that does not mean I cannot be friends with those that reside in my realm.”

“You wish… to be friends… Lord Drea—“ You cut off when his eyebrow arched once more, and you corrected yourself. “Lord Morpheus.” Further amusement flickered in his eyes.

“I do, should you be so inclined. I do not think myself to be in a position to force you into something you do not want.” You blinked at him and once again struggled for words.

“I— well, my lord, I mean… yes, I think I would like that,” You managed to get out. “I don’t have a lot of friends and Mervyn says I spend to much time with Lucienne or with my nose stuck in a book… so, yes, I would like to be friends with you… Morpheus.” There, you said it and he didn’t look like he was going to smite you where you stood or blast you into oblivion. If anything, he actually seemed to be pleased with your answer.  The barely there smile on his lips was reassuring and your tense shoulders relaxed slightly. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No, I think that should be all, Y/N. Thank you.” You bowed your head and turned around to head back to the library. Rather than bolting from the room like a scared mouse, you strode at a more relaxed pace while your mind replayed the short conversation over and over in your head. It was hard for you to wrap your mind around it. Everything you had learned about Dream of the Endless seemed to be wrong, or at least different than what you expected. Marching into the library, you paused at a table and looked down at the spine of the book in hand to see where it should go. It was a F. As you moved towards the aisle, your mind thinking of the F aisles, there was a flap of wings. You paused and looked towards the sound. It was Matthew.

“Hello Matthew, do you need something?” You asked. The raven fluttered over to a nearby bookshelf and landed on top of it.

“Hi Y/N!” Matthew chirped, his voice slightly higher than that of how it had been in the throne room.

“Are you alright, Matthew?” You asked, peering closer at him. Matthew shook his head and ruffled his feathers, almost like he was trying to shake something off. 

“Perfectly fine, just thought I’d see how you were doing.” Matthew chittered, his voice still a little odd. He shook his head again and hoped once more. “Lucienne told me about you…” You flushed in embarrassment and Matthew scrambled in place. “Nothing bad! Just that you struggle with confidence… and I know Morpheus is kind of intense.” The raven let out a squawk and hopped several paces across the bookshelf.

“Matthew?”

“I’m fine! I’m fine,” He responded. “I’ve just been dealing with a... headache… that comes and goes.” It must be a bad headache if it had him hopping around like that…

“Maybe you should ask Lucienne about it then? I’m sure she’s dealt with headaches like that before being that she was Lord Dre— Morpheus’s, first raven.” You offered. Matthew’s head bobbed.

“Yeah, yeah, good idea, good idea, we should do that,” He muttered to himself. Your eyebrow twitched at his words, but you didn’t question what he meant by ‘we’. You weren’t exactly well versed in how being Morpheus’s raven worked. “Anyways, not to point it out or draw attention, but are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” You said while moving forwards, you needed to shelve the book as soon as possible. “I’ve heard a lot about him from Lucienne and Death.”

“You talked with Death?” Matthew asked, coasting between shelves as he followed you through the aisles. You reached the shelf where the book needed to go and stretched up on your toes to slide the heavy tome in place.

“Once, right after I died,” You explained, looking at Matthew with a small smile. “I may or may not have gotten into an argument with her.” You chuckled wryly as you turned back to Matthew, your fingers brushing over book spines. “I didn’t want to stop tending to my library… that’s how I ended up here.”

“You argued with Death!?” Matthew exclaimed, his wings flapping as he struggled to keep his laughter in. “How!? No offense, but you look like you have the confidence of a bunny!” You flushed in embarrassment, your face heating up.

“I like books, okay! I wasn’t going to let death stop me from enjoying my first and only love.” You said in your defense as Matthew cackled.

“For a human as timid as you are, you sure pick weird battles!” Scowling at Matthew, you huffed and moved back towards the tables, the shelves shifting behind you and Matthew.

⸺⸺⸺⸺

You were neck deep in a book in the library. It was a rare moment where you got to relax in the library. You and Lucienne had completed shelving all of the books that had suddenly appeared and done the normal ones that appeared on a daily basis, which left you with nothing to do for the afternoon. This book happened to be written by Lucienne herself, and covered the history of The Dreaming. You were using every chance you had to learn about the Realm that was now your home. Turning to the next page, you started reading more about Fiddler’s Green.

“Lucienne?” You perked up at the voice of Morpheus ringing out through the silent library. Closing the book, you rose from your seat as Morpheus appeared. His eyes met yours.

“Lord Morpheus,” You greeted quietly. “If you are looking for Lucienne, I am afraid she is not in the library at the moment… is there anything I can help you with?” Morpheus’s brow crinkled as his eyes glanced at the book on the table.

“I do not wish to interrupt your reading…” Morpheus spoke, his head lowering ever so slightly. You waved off his words.

“Nonsense, my lord,” You replied. “I am a librarian and I am here to help. Are you searching for a book? What is the title?”

He blinked at you and you saw his lips twitching. Your eyebrow rose.

“Well?” You further prompted him.

“I am in need of a book of dreams, Robert Spencer.” Your mind started thinking of the S section and walking into an aisles, you heard Morpheus sigh. “I do not wish to drag you away from your reading Y/N…” You aired out a snort, your eyes running along book spines. You found the book you were looking for and pulled it from the shelf. Turning around, you walked out of the aisle, appearing on the other side of the narrow room and closer to Morpheus. “You seem to be very invested in your research…” He trailed off.

“This is my job, my lord.” You announced from behind him. Morpheus turned in place, clear surprise on his face. You held out the book. “Robert Spencer, book of dreams. Can I find another book for you, my lord?” Morpheus took the offered book and stared into your eyes. You almost felt like shrinking back, but you were in your territory this time. You weren’t going to be intimidated.

“No, that is all, thank you,” You returned to your seat, picking up your book and resuming your reading once more. Before leaving, Morpheus studied his newest librarian once last time. You were an interesting creature he was enjoying getting to know, but you were still quite reserved. Surely ‘my lord’ and ‘Lord Morpheus’ was an improvement from Lord Dream. The timid human who had gone against Death, was a refreshing change around the palace, and Morpheus wanted to see how much he could pull you from your shell.

—————————

“Does it ever get monotonous?” You turned your head away from the sunset to see Morpheus standing not that far away, watching the kaleidoscope of colors on the horizon. “Being a librarian, you are always shelving books, shifting them around, retrieving and returning.” You considered his words. Yes, it sometimes got monotonous, especially when you had such large stacks of books to shelve.

“At times, sir,” You replied, holding his gaze. “But at the same time, Lucienne and I get to read the books that appear and there is nothing like the excitement of a new book who’s pages have not been turned.” Morpheus nodded in understanding.

“Are you happy here, Y/N?” You didn’t hesitate in your answer.

“More than happy, sir.” Sir. That was an improvement. It had taken weeks to get here, and Morpheus was glad to see the progress… but still, he wanted more. He desired more. He would get you there. Eventually.

⸺⸺⸺⸺

It was your day off and you were wandering the market in the village, picking up produce for dinner tonight. You were planning on fixing dinner in the palace tonight in celebration of Matthew’s birthday. As the only humans within the palace,  you and Matthew had grown close, and since discovering Matthew’s birthday, you had decided to at least celebrate in a way you would both appreciate. Matthew had once said that chicken scallopini was his favorite dinner, so that’s what you were going to make. Abel and Cain were going to bring the wine and chicken and you were going to pick up the rest of the ingredients. The market in the village had the best produce you had seen in your life and you were eager to get your hands on what you could.

You had gotten all of the ingredients for dinner and were now just picking out fruit for the desert tart you planned on making as well. Excitement for cooking and baking added a pep in your step as you picked out several apples, oranges, plums, and peaches. You probably ended up with an excess, but you were excited to do something so mundane and human, as cooking. Wandering in the direction of the bridge of the castle, you hefted your basket against your side and looked down at the blackberries. They looked wonderfully fresh, just like everything else in the market. You ought to get some, Matthew did say they were one of his favorites to snack on and that tart recipe you had found written by his grandmother…

“It seems that you are aware of Matthew’s love for blackberries.” Your head snapped to the right in surprise. It had never crossed your mind that Morpheus would leave the palace. Smiling, you nodded and bought two cases, adding them to your basket before turning to Morpheus.

“We’ve been reminiscing about our favorite foods from when we were human,” You explained as you slowly moved in the direction of the palace. You had everything you needed. Morpheus fell into step beside you. “Matthew’s second love after hotdogs, is blackberries. He mentioned that his grandmother use to make this blackberry tart and he repeatedly got scolded for snacking on them.”

“Then I suggest hiding them unless you wish Matthew to eat them all.” Morpheus lightly teased. You giggled at his words and patted the edge of the basket.

“Not to worry, I don’t plan on letting Matthew know what I’m up to until everything is finished. He can gorge on the rest of the blackberries after I’ve finished the tart.” You replied, smiling up at Morpheus. “As it turns out, his grandmother made a cookbook and her recipe is in the library. All I have to do it not mess it up and he should be a very happy raven.” Morpheus returned the smile, albeit with a much smaller one, but a smile all the same.

“I am sure that he will appreciate the gesture regardless of how it turns out.” Morpheus had a nice smile, it was a shame that he didn’t do it more often. Speaking of which, you had another question to ask Morpheus… but you weren’t sure if you were within your rights to ask. “You wish to ask me something?” Your eyes flickered up to his in surprise. No, you shouldn’t be surprised, he was aware of everything.

“I’m not sure if it within my rights to ask,” You spoke slowly, your eyes examining the stone cobbles underfoot. They disappeared as you reached the bridge connecting the village to the palace.

“And if I inquired you of your question… regardless of its nature, will you ask me?” Morpheus challenged back, his voice and tone, as always, revealing nothing about what he was currently thinking. You came to a stop in the middle of the bridge and looked up at him and his returned gaze. Morpheus fully turned to face you, looking down at you with eyes that swirled with galaxies.

“Do Endless need to eat? Or is it a needless task that you only partake in when you feel so?” His eyebrow rose and lips twitched in amusement.

“We do not experience hunger, nor do we need to sustenance to maintain life… but my siblings occasionally consume human food.” Morpheus explained. “Death is partial to street food in her travels to complete her job.” That was understandable, you bet she covered a lot of ground everywhere. The food she came across was probably the most diverse… your mind started running on its hamster wheel.

“When was the last time you ate something?” You then questioned, your head tilting to the side. “Is it something you enjoy? Or does it not really cross your mind because you don’t need to eat?”

“It has probably been centuries since I last consumed human food and… no, I suppose I do not really think about eating since it is not necessary to sustaining my life.” Morpheus answered. “You yourself do not need to consume subsistence and yet you still partake.”

“I think it is out of habit, and I enjoy eating…” You replied after a pause for consideration. “I can see why you don’t. It’s not something that is necessary. Though I do think you are missing out on the beautiful produce here in the village. They taste extraordinary.”

“If it will please my librarian, I should think I could try one.” He answered, much to your delight. You reached into your basket and felt around, finding one of the delicious apples, you brought it out and offered it to Morpheus. Morpheus froze in place, as still as one of the statues in the gardens. You quickly backtracked and turned back to the basket, this time making sure to look at what you were grabbing.

“If you don’t like apples, I can—“ A hand closed over your retracting one, holding onto the apple and your fingers. It was your turn to stiffen. Had you done something wrong? You turned back to Morpheus who was staring at the apple with an indescribable look. “Morpheus?” His eyes lifted to yours and his rigid face relaxed. Then his fingers gently took the apple from yours. 

“No, I— like apples.” Morpheus answered softly, holding the apple in front of him like it was a precious thing, like it was made of gold. It was just an apple… Perhaps he really likes apples? Star blue eyes rose from the red fruit and gazed into your confused ones. “I will treasure this apple, thank you, Y/N.” Relief flooded your veins and you beamed at him.

“Good! I should probably hurry back to the palace,” You spoke, looking back at the palace and patting your basket once more. “I need to get dinner on before Matthew catches me with the blackberries.”

“Shall I escort you to your destination to ensure that my raven does not catch sight of your treasure?” Morpheus offered, a sparkle just hinting in his eyes. You smiled once more.

“I would appreciate that, thank you.”

⸺⸺⸺⸺

Matthew had gobbled the blackberry tart until his black feathers were bathed in fruit juice… and then when you had shown him the left over blackberries he could have, he pretty much face planted in the remaining case in happiness. The raven had been unusually happy since then and you were in near tears at one point because Matthew had essentially put himself in a food coma after Abel had a batch of blackberries delivered to the palace as a belated birthday present. He ate them all in one sitting.

It was late evening about a week after Matthew’s birthday that you found yourself sitting in the northern garden of the palace, watching the sun sink lower and lower after a long day of work in the library. There was a strong breeze that rushed through the area you were sitting in, every once in a while blowing your hair in your face and sending a chill up your spine. Lucienne had said that while Morpheus usually kept the realm at a specific temperature of comfort, he had been introducing an idea of seasonal change to give the residents something new to experience. You were sure appreciating it, but you were also fairly sure that you didn’t have the clothes to weather through colder temperatures. Certainly not in this moment. But the view was just too extraordinary to leave. Another shiver rattled your bones and you grasped your upper arms, feeling the prickle of your skin.

Something was placed around your shoulders, blocking out the wind.

Looking upwards to your left, you saw Morpheus standing behind the little stone bench. His usual black long coat was gone, now around your shoulders. You went to remove it and he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I believe you are in greater need of my jacket than I, Y/N.” Morpheus spoke as he slowly stepped to the side and walked around the end of the bench. He then gesture to the empty space next to you. “May I?” Your fingers grasped his jacket and pulled it closer to your body as you nodded at the space.

“It’s your bench, Morpheus.” You reminded him. He countered your words with an eyebrow raise before speaking.

“And yet you are the one it cradles,” He returned with a teasing smirk. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and gesture to the space next to you with your head.

“Please do,” Morpheus took a seat in the space next to you as you crossed your wrists over your chest and held his jacket against your skin. It was radiating heat. Your mind started to wander, particularly about all that you had learned about Morpheus. Rays of fading sunlight hit your face and your eyes squinted slightly. “Does it ever get overwhelming?” Morpheus looked you, his eyes trailing on the rays of sun illuminating your face. “Feeling everything, that is. Experiencing so many dreams… you carry the emotions of all life in the universe on your shoulders, how do you not get encompassed by it?”

“Practice.” Morpheus answered, his eyes not leaving your face. Your eyes turned away from the dying light to look into his. That blue was glowing with starlight, echoing the twilight that surrounded you. Another strong gust of wind blew though the garden, this time you didn’t feel it, Morpheus’s jacket keeping you nice and warm. Your hair, however, was a different story. It blew in your face and covered your eyes. You reached up to drag it back into tameness, only to find Morpheus’s fingers delicately doing the task for you. Even after he had cleared your face of hair, his touch lingered on your face. “I’ve had eons to do so, and yet, I still find myself learning something new.”

You were trapped in place by the soft glow of stars in his eyes, the sunset entirely forgotten.

⸺⸺⸺⸺

Lucienne was working overtime, once again, for a project in the village. You had jumped in and forced her out of the library to take a much needed break, taking over her work in researching the development of a naturally occurring phenomena that bordered the village. She couldn’t do two things at once or she was absolutely going to run herself ragged. Then again, you were burning the midnight oil yourself, so you couldn’t exactly chide her on that…

Closing the book you had just ran through, you swapped it out for another and dived into numerous pages once more. Your pen scratched away at paper, scribble after scribble, note after note. You would do anything to ease Lucienne of the workload you knew she pushed upon her shoulders. A burn settled in your eyes, and you rubbed at them ferociously, trying to stay awake. You had to get this done for Lucienne. You could do it, a few hours more should be more than enough time to do so…

Morpheus knew that you had kicked Lucienne out of the library hours ago due to his head librarian overworking herself once more… but now it seemed that his little librarian was determined to follow the same path. It was well into the late night that he found himself walking through the dimmed halls of the library, heading in the direction of a brighter light. Emerging in the space where Lucienne often conducted her research, he found you siting at the table, head against the open book in front of you and hand resting against a paper you had been writing on. You were fast asleep.

He didn’t know if it was Lucienne was rubbing off on you, or you trying too hard to find your place.

Morpheus slowly gathered you from where you slept soundly at the table, drawing you into his arms and cradling you gently. You were a very precious addition to his little family and with your brazen, and yet entirely inadvertent proposal, he was determined not to lose you like he had with his previous lovers. You moved in his arms and Morpheus looked to your face to see if you had awakened. You hadn’t, you were more interested in snuggling closer to his body, slinging an arm over Morpheus’s shoulder and burrowing your face closer to his neck with a comforted sigh. Your soft sigh was almost unheard, but he could feel your gentle exhale against his neck before you lapsed back into fitful sleep.

“You’ve over worked yourself, Y/N,” Morpheus sighed as his sand swirled around his body, transporting the both of you to your little cottage in the village. Your cottage was moderately sized, a small kitchen, a place to eat, a little bedroom… the bulk of the space was the library complete with a fireplace and seating area where Morpheus knew you spent almost all of your personal time. He carried you into your little bedroom and tucked you underneath your covers, trying not to chuckle when you sleepily complained of the loss of body heat. Pushing back wayward strands of hair from your face, Morpheus let his fingers linger on your face. “Sleep well, my dream.”

⸺⸺⸺⸺

Your pen was rapidly tapping against the sheet of paper you had been writing on. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. You weren’t playing attention to the tic in your hand, your mind wandering as you stared into space ahead of you. Thoughts of recent events were all consuming within your mind, and you could not stop thinking about how different Morpheus had been acting lately. Why was he so touchy feely with you? Why was he spending so much time around you when you weren’t working period. Scratch that, it seemed like Morpheus went out of his way at times to drop by and say hello. Don’t even get you started on all of the times you had spent burning the midnight oil to get research done for Lucienne… only to wake up in bed at your cottage, come morning. Only one person in the palace could do such a thing, but why.

A hand descended on your rapidly moving hand, stopping the continuous tapping. Your eyelashes fluttered and looking at the the hand pressing down against yours, your eyes rose up to see Lucienne staring down at you with a concerned look on her face.

“Y/N, you have been entirely distracted and unfocused this last week. What is going on?” Lucienne asked. You swallowed and retracted your hand from hers, holding it against your chest and staring at it with conflicting. “Y/N?”

“He’s been acting strange, lately, has he not?” You whispered in question. Lucienne’s head cocked to the side and her eyebrows rose as she sighed.

“Indeed, which is why I am asking what is wrong with you. Has something happened between you and Morpheus?” Lucienne pressed on with her question. “Are you aware of why he has changed in recent?”

“I—“ To be honest you didn’t even know what to think of it yourself. Lucienne knew him far longer than you had so shouldn’t she be the one to know why his moods change? You waved your hand slightly. “Morpheus, well, he’s been acting weird ever since he walked me back from the market on Matthew’s birthday.”

“Weird?” Lucienne repeated. “And pray tell what do you mean by weird?”

“I don’t want to say touchy feely because I feel like that would be an insult to one such as Dream of the Endless… but he’s been around a lot more, often checks in on me, brings me back to my cottage when I fall asleep in …the middle of research…” Lucienne’s eyebrows rose and she peered at you over her glasses. Strange indeed, Lord Morpheus never acted that way unless he was with his current lover. Lucienne’s suspicions deepened and she gazed shrewdly at you.

“Y/N, what happened in the market?  Granted he’s been tip toeing around you like you’ll spook if he so much as moves the wrong way… Did something strange happen between you?”

“Strange?” You repeated before shaking your head and shrugging in confusion. “Nothing that I can think of, we only talked about the eating habits of an Endless… though he did seem rather shocked when I offered an apple to eat…” Lucienne choked on her spit and was momentarily rendered speechless. Y/N had offered Morpheus an apple!? By the gods did the once human have any idea what that meant? Clearly not.

“Good heavens, Y/N!” Lucienne exclaimed, her mind whirling in contemplation. You gave the head librarian a confused look. “Did he accept it?” You nod in further confusion, wondering how that mattered… let alone why it was such a big deal.

“Well… yes? He got kind of possessive with it when I offered to exchange it with another fruit… though he never actually ate the apple.” You softly mused, twirling your pen between your fingers once more. “All it’s doing is sitting in his study… I’ve told him that he’s meant to eat it, you know, before it rots. Told me that it is far to precious to be eaten…”

“Oh Y/N,” Lucienne sighed, fully understanding the situation you had put yourself in. It was clear to everyone that Morpheus had a special spot for you. When Morpheus fell in love, he fell fast and deeply. In fact, you had him wrapped around you finger and you didn’t even know it. It was best for you to figure out what she had done sooner, rather than later “Do you not know the meaning behind giving someone an apple?”

Your eyebrows drew together in confusion. There was a meaning behind giving someone an apple? Sure, you loved to read and probably read a little too much, but you hadn’t heard about this before.

“No,” Your voice came out in a whisper, dread filling your veins. Had you done something grievous? Had you done something worthy to getting banished from the palace? No. You would have been long gone it you had. If anything, Morpheus had been closer than ever. Yes, softer, closer, more delicate, caring…

“I will not meddle in your affairs with Lord Morpheus,” Lucienne spoke softly, her hand reaching out to touch your shoulder. “But might I suggest that you research the meaning behind that action? Surely then you will understand better. It is grecian, I would start there.” You nodded ever so slowly shortly before the head librarian strode away.

⸺⸺⸺⸺

It had been nearly three days since Lucienne had pushed you to researching why Morpheus had changed… and the answer you found was one that made morbid embarrassment flush through your veins. You had proposed to the King of Dreams and Nightmares! Your boss! Good heavens you didn’t know when you were going to be able to face him again but it certainly wasn’t going to be anytime soon. Book on Ancient Greek traditions pressed tight against your chest, you had stayed huddled in your favorite chair in your library at home, in front of your wood burning fire. How could you have been so stupid!?

Chin dropping back to your knees, you gazed into the crackling fire and wished you could burn up into nothing like the frequent embers that floated free of the inferno. This second life of yours would stretch out for eternity, at least until it was finally time to move on from this universe… but that wouldn’t be for eons. Eons of living in the realm of the King you had inadvertently and naively proposed to. You weren’t sure you would be able to do it. There was a taping sound at your window and shifting your gaze, you saw Matthew standing on the sill. Rubbing your red and puffy eyes, you unfolded yourself from your huddled position, grimacing as your joints ached from remaining still for so long. You set the book down and stiffly rose to your feet, huffing over to the window to let the raven in.

“Wow, you look like crap, Y/N,” Matthew said as he hopped in.

“Yeah, I know,” You mumbled in response, leaving the window cracked so he could leave. You shuffled back over to your seat and proceeded to aching get back into that awkward folded position. Matthew fluttered over to the table beside you, his head cocking side to side.

“So… you haven’t been by the castle in several days and we established that you look terrible, what’s up?” Matthew asked, leaning forwards and pecking at the sleeve of your jumper. Your tired eyes shifted to Mathew.

“I’m pretty sure I’ve committed a cardinal sin, Matthew.” You mumbled at him, wrapping your arms around your knees and hugging them tightly to your chest. “Or at least the version of that here in The Dreaming.”

“Oh really? I highly doubt that, Y/N,” Matthew responded, hoping closer. “You’re the nicest person I know, how could you have committed a cardinal sin.” You wilted where you huddled.

“ImayormaynothaveaccidentallyproposedtoMorpheusandIhavenotideawhattodobecausehe’sanEndlessandaccordingtomyresearchheacceptedandI’mfreakingout.” Matthew blinked at you for a few moments.

“Sorry… what was that? It sounded like you said something about a proposal and Morpheus?” You aired out a whimper and pointed down at the book Matthew stood on.

“I didn’t know that giving Morpheus an apple was essentially a marriage proposal.” You whispered, your nails digging into your legs.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, you proposed by giving him an apple?”

“It’s a greek thing apparently.” Matthew nodded in understanding.

“Greek, yeah, I’ll remember that… so you accidentally and unknowingly proposed to Morpheus, that’s not the end of the world, right? You like him don’t you?” You managed to give Matthew a dirty look, and rubbed your red eyes once more.

“Matthew, he’s my boss.”

“Yeah and we’ve all been pretending that he hasn’t been pursuing you for the last three months.” Matthew stated frankly. “Y/N, it’s been kind of obvious that he has had a thing for you since the start, you’ve just been off in your own world, completely oblivious to him… I think Mervyn and Lucienne have a bet going on right now on how long it will be until you figure things out. Pretty sure Lucienne won that one.”

“Matthew,” You rushed out, your face hot with embarrassment. “Please, I beg you, stop, it’s morbidly embarrassing without the reminders.”

“What’s there to be embarrassed about? It’s not like he refused.”

“That’s precisely the problem! I’m—“ You couldn’t finish that sentence. You were just supposed to be his librarian, that’s all. That’s the deal you had with Death, the deal you had with Dream himself. You were never supposed to be anything more. You didn’t deserve to be anything more, not when all his previous lovers had been such prominent women. “I’m just a librarian.” Matthew picked at your sleeve one last time.

“You know… we miss you at the palace, you make it a brighter place.”

⸺⸺⸺⸺

It was day five of your self imposed exile from the palace and you were feeling more than antsy. Surely you should return to the palace to assist Lucienne with the pile up of books that had accumulated. It was wrong of you to shirk your duties in this state of moping. You pulled yourself from your bed and trudged into your kitchen to fix yourself a caffeinated drink to hopefully put a pep in your step. You couldn’t go to back to the palace looking like this.

You chose coffee to get a nice hit of caffeine, that should put life in your eyes where exhaustion had overstayed it’s welcome. You wish you could have said that you had slept in the last five days, but you had been crippled by your embarrassment. It also didn’t help to know that you were technically engaged to Dream of the Endless. Coffee in hand you were about to inhale a large sip when someone knocked on your door. You eyed the heavy wooden door scrupulously, contemplating whether or not to see who was there. With a sigh, you trundled over to the door and dragged the door open. You froze in place, coffee half way to your lips.

“Y/N,” Morpheus greeted softly, his eyes soaking in your disheveled state and noting just how exhausted you looked. Your eyes were red and filled with fatigue, and Morpheus knew that you hadn’t spent any of the past five days caring for yourself. “May I come in, or is this a bad time?” You blinked at him like you had seen a ghost and silently stepped to the side. Morpheus stepped into your cottage and shut the heavy door behind him as you shakily raised the coffee to your lips. Morpheus stopped you from taking a sip. “I doubt you need caffeine right now.” You reluctantly let him take the coffee from you and gave it a mournful gaze as Morpheus set it on your dining table.

“I was going to drink that,” You softly croaked out. Morpheus aired out a soft snort and reached forwards to brush his fingers against your fatigue riddled face.

“You need sleep, not caffeine.” Morpheus corrected you, his fingers lingering over the bags beneath your eyes. “Why have you not properly rested.” Your eyelids fluttered before you looked away.

“I haven’t been able to sleep,” You answered scratchily. It was a pathetic excuse. You knew it. Morpheus knew it. You swayed in place and rubbed your eye. “I apologies for my absence, sir, I’ll be back to the library as soon as I can.” Morpheus grabbed your hand and pulled it away from your eyes, maintaining a light hold.

“I am not here to question your absence from the palace, Y/N, I am here… because I fear that I have chased off my beloved librarian.” Exhaustion dampened your reaction to his words as Morpheus cradled your face in hand.

“’m just a human.” You mumbled, leaning forward and pressing your face into his chest. Morpheus wrapped an arm around your back and hugged you closer.

“Perhaps, but you are my human,” Morpheus replied gently, his arms snaking around your body to gently pick you up and cradle your body in his arms. “And my human needs to sleep.”

“But— but—” You weakly protested.

“Y/N, we will talk later.” Morpheus spoke into your ear, his nose brushing against your messy and matted hair. “I wish for you to rest.”

“But I can’t...” Even as you drowsily spoke, you found yourself drifting off to sleep.

⸺⸺⸺⸺

“I am not above hitting you with this tome, Matthew,” You warned the cackling raven, hefting the heavy book up. Matthew hopped several paces away, getting out of hitting range as he reigned in his cackles.

“I’m sorry I just can’t,” The raven chortled. “Did you really not see it?”

“Clearly!” You snapped back, thumping the book down on the table. Your cheeks were blazingly hot. “But you don’t need to rub it in!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop, I’ll stop,” Matthew huffed. He still looked like he was struggling not to laugh. The raven added one last jab. “Your majesty.”

“MATTHEW!!!” The raven aired out another loud cackle and quickly flapped his wings to fly far, far away from you and your fuming state. You watched as his tail feathers disappeared. “Stupid bird.” You grumbled, your fingers scraping against the wood of the table. Arms slipped around your waist and a face nuzzled into your neck.

“Matthew teasing you again, my dream?” You huffed as your eye twitched and leaned back into Morpheus’s embrace.

“Your raven is asking for his feathers to be plucked.” You said grouchily, settling your hands against the ones that encompassed your waist.

“He’s happy that you are happy,” Your snorted in disagreement.

“That was morbidly embarrassing and I wish to erase that incident from my mind.” You bit out. Morpheus brushed his lips along your neck.

“Why? No mortal has ever been so brazen with their actions towards me yet entirely oblivious at the same time.” You groaned loudly, in complete misery from the repeated teasing you were bound to endure for eternity.

“I told you it was embarrassing! How was I supposed to know that giving you an apple was asking you to marry me?” Morpheus chuckled into your neck and pressed several kisses against your flesh.

“Embarrassment aside, it worked did it not?” With cheeks still burning hot, your eyes glanced down to your left hand where you had a set of rings wrapped around your ring finger. The main stone mounted on the engagement ring swirled in the color of Morpheus’s eyes and was a constant reminder of how you had blundered your way into a relationship with Dream of the Endless. An innocent offer of an apple had landed you on the throne of the realm you now resided in.

“This was not how I was expecting my second life to go.” You sighed out. “But seriously, Morpheus, get control of your raven before I cook him for dinner!”

Date Published: 10/2/22

Last Edit: 10/2/22

Tag List:

@pinksirensong @carrietrekkie @hungrhay

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Morpheus/Dream Masterlist

Please i want to this too

Can someone please write Jake from Sweetbitter fanfic???? I need more of Tom Sturridge other characters x reader fanfic! Like not just a Drabble or one shot but like full on fanfic multichapter experience. But I’ll settle for a 10k plus word sweetbitter!Jake x reader fanfic! Pretty please 🥺

Necesitando urgentemente historias sobre tom , jake y morfeo aaaaah

Fuck it, I'm opening requests for Morpheus, Jake (Sweetbitter) and Sergeant Frank Troy (Far from the madding crowd) i can be convinced to write Lord Byron with a good enough idea. Answers will be short, might suck cuz I'm not too familiar with them yet and they might take a while. I'm tired, this might fuck me up but i am down too bad for this man so go wild

THE PROFESSOR’S DAUGHTER

PART ONE: ONE NIGHT ONLY

Pairing: Morpheus x Reader (Hob Gadling’s Daughter)

Warning: SMUT

Words: 8,203

SEE BACKGROUND EXPLANATION HERE

PLEASE COMMENT AND ENGAGE!

PLEASE NOTE MY MAIN BLOG IS @endlessdreamqueen​ WHICH HAS BEEN SHADOW BANNED. I AM WORKING TO RESOLVE THIS ISSUE!

Dream’s & Death’s POV

It has been a few weeks since Morpheus broke free from his imprisonment at Roger Burgess’s house and gathered his tools, following which he felt somewhat lost and frustrated.

He had rebuilt the Dreaming and sought revenge on those who harmed him. He had also built up his powers again and carried out his functions as Dream of the Endless and, yet, something was missing. But he did not know what it was. The feeling itself was absurd and he never quite felt that way before.  

Keep reading

for the love of God thanks for this story... now my pussy is more anxious than before

•𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆•

Title: To worship a king.

Pairing: Dream of the Endless x fem!dream!reader.

Word count: 8003.

Warnings: Smut(18+ only - minors don’t interact) Oral (Male and fem receiving) unprotected sex(Remember to be safe!) Hair pulling, mentions of throat fucking, a little bit of angst and fluff.

Summary: You were Morpheus’ greatest creation and then you strayed from your purpose. You’re separated for a century and suddenly anger makes way for something else.

Author’s note: My first smut!!! Please tell me what you all think and if I should do more! I hope you enjoy and remember the gif isn’t mine!!!

•𝐓𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆•

18+ Only. Minors do not interact!

You were lustful, Morpheus had made you that way.

He made you for the dreamers that dreamt of fantasies so intimate or seemingly impossible that they could only live them within their sleep. He made you to be passionate, sensual and intense. He made you with the ability to see one's wants and pleasures.

You were lustful and you were content with that knowledge. You enjoyed travelling through dreams and partaking in the pleasure humans felt so strongly, you enjoyed the euphoria and ecstasy of sex.

In the beginning, anyway.

You adored being able to pick up only any wants and desires, you relished in your experience and you prided yourself in the way you would leave dreamers gasping and missing some foreign touch when they woke.

But you soon realised lust and love were two sides of the same coin.

Especially when you discovered you were in love with your creator, your king, Morpheus.

It was a slow process. You doubted you would have figured it out if you hadn't watched those who dreamed of love, an entirely different intimacy than you were used to. You saw their dreams of lovers and crushes and with sly words from a certain golden-eyed being, you realised you acted much the same.

You always longed to be beside your king, to impress him and have him look at you with those proud eyes. You wanted him to tell you things only you knew. You wanted to know his mind and body in a way no one else did. You wanted him to love in a way no one else did.

Though, of course, you knew your feelings were foolish. Unrequited was the word.

You were just his creation, after all.

So you silently stood by as your king took other lovers, Nada and Calliope for example, and you stood by his side as all of those relationships ended in tragedy. You never said a word, hiding away your jealousy so deep that he could never sense it.

It went that way for centuries, millennia, aeons.

You thought your feelings would crumble, how terribly wrong you were.

They only grew and grew and your longed and longed. You just wanted him to look at you, stare into your soul and make his home there. You just wanted to be loved the way that mortals were loved.

Was that so much to ask?"

At some point, it had begun to get too much and you took to avoiding your master whenever you could, biting your tongue when you were forced to be beside him.

You just wanted affection.

The type mortals had when they danced under the stars and kissed on their wedding days. You wanted to be loved unconditionally, to have someone stand by your side just as you had done with Morpheus all this time.

And with some words from another one of Dream's proudest creations - The Corinthian- who also wanted to experience humanity. You decided you would.

You needed to.

You would break if you didn't.

It had worked for the first six months. You had met a charming human by the name of James Calton and you were taken by him in an instant. He was kind and thoughtful and pushed Morpheus to the very back of your mind.

It was wonderful, he treated you like a queen, kissed you tenderly, and always wrapped an arm around you when you laid in bed together, bare and peaceful.

You were in bliss.

And then it all came crashing down.

You had been skilful in your secrecy, telling your king you were needed by some other dreamfolk but never specifying who. You made sure to run errands and do chores to make it seem truthful, deepening the lie.

Then one fateful day, Morpheus had decided to change his schedule -something you always worked around - and went to library, where you said you were working. He couldn't find you, so naturally he asked Lucienne and she said you weren't there. He went to find you.

You had been seeing James off to work.

"I'll see you later, dear," You smiled sweetly, the ribbon he had tried in your hair whipping in the wind.

"Aren't you forgetting something?"James grinned softly, patting his lips.

You laughed, blissfully unaware as you pressed your lips to his, relishing in contentment. This is what love was.

"Goodbye, my love," He hummed gently, slipping into his car and driving off.

Then, you turned.

And your heart stopped.

Morpheus was standing a little ways behind you, face darker than you'd ever seen it. He was furious, enraged, it burned in his eyes, searing. He took a step closer and you knew your punishment was imminent.

You ran.

You knew it would only make him angrier but you were terrified, you didn't want to die. You didn't want to be banished into the darkness, or thrown into hell like Nada.

The shadows distorted.

You sprinted as fast as you could, heart thundering, chest heaving.

You darted around a corner but he was already waiting for you.

A cry was wretched from your lips.

A flurry of sand surrounded you like chains, tethering you to your excution. You knew he was taking you back to the Dreaming. You would never see James again.

It was worth it, you couldn't help but think, at least you knew what love felt like.

When the cutting sand cleared you were in the throne room. Morpheus stood before the steps leading to his throne, eyes glitning, demanding you got your knees and begged for mercy.

You clenched your hands as his pericing glare snatched onto your skin, burning. You tightened your jaw, you would not speak first, you refused.

You didn't need to.

Morpheus glared at you, voice harmfully sharp, "Prancing around with humans?"

You flinched at his condescending lily, waiting for him to continue.

He did, "Why?" His voice was brutal and you remained silent, "Answer me."

You could not resist his imposing command, "I..."

He glared, stepping closer, "You what?"

You shuddered, taking a deep breath as you forced yourself to meet his eyes, "I wanted to know what love was like."

His nostrils flared, and his eyes narrowed into slits, darkening monsterously. He spoke slowly, danger rippling in his voice, "Love? You wanted to know what love was like? You are a creature of lust and lust only."

It was your turn to glare, "Why can't I be more!? Why can't I be allowed to love and want affection!? To wake up to someone every day!? To spend the rest of my life with someone who shippers to my soul!? Why am I not allowed to be something more than lust!?"

You were screaming now, breath ragged as you stepped forward, almost chest to chest with Dream, finger pointed, glower painted across your face.

You had already dug your grave, why not make it deeper?

"Come on, Dream King, answer me that," You hissed, barely realising how close you were.

Morpheus glowered down at you, words coming out as a snarl, "Remember your place."

"My place!?" You barked a rueful laugh, "My place has been beside you since the beginning! I was created before this realm! I have been with you through it all, not only have I doubted you or left your side, entirely loyal! And you want me to remember my place!?"

Tears were beginning to spring to your eyes.

Remember your place.

No, you refused to accept that, "I have stood next to you through all of your desicions and you will not allow me the joy of love!?"

"How dare you?" He snarled, "The joy of love? You know nothing of love, y/n."

You huffed, "Oh, really, Dream King?"

You draped to step closer, chest flush against his, faces mere inches apart. His breath fanned your face, and god's, how you had imagined being this close to him.

He did say anything, rage flaring furiously.

Grabbing his hand, you pressed it to your chest, where your heat beat erratically. You were far too gone now, might as well finally tell the truth.

You breathed, chest heaving harshly, "You created me. I am as connected to you as you are me. Can you feel it? The way I burn for every part of you."

His eyes flickered down to your chest, fixated on where his hand was pressed against it, feeling the intensity of your emotions. The longing, the desire, the passion and the love.

He clenched his jaw, wrenching his hand away as he forced out the word, "No."

Few could understand the Dream King's emotions and you were one of them.

"Liar," You spit.

And then you did the stupidest thing you had ever done.

You kissed Dream of the Endless.

You yanked him down by his coat, pressing your lips to his. Passionate was an understatement. His lips were soft, tasting faintly of berries and you found yourself wondering what the rest of him tasted like.

If this was your last moment, you were glad you finally knew what it was like to kiss him.

You expected him to push you away and banish you into the darkness.

Instead, he gripped your jaw, pressing your lips closer to his. His pace was bruising, the intensity of his kiss was burning. It was delicious and you welcomed the heat without hesitation.

You pressed closer still, groaning into the kiss when his other hand came to clutch at your neck. It kept you in the position he wanted as he slotted his leg between yours, something hard pressing against you.

A gasp.

You felt him smirk against your lips as he jutted his leg again, smug bastard.

His kiss made you dizzy with desire, intoxicated you. Dream consumed you in everything that he was, his bruising passion, his relentless onslaught of hypnotic kisses, his teasing brutality as he bit your lip.

Shit, why had you waited so long to do this.

Finally, he seemed to realise what he was doing and halted. His eyes were wide, pupils blown as gasped for are. His grip on your jaw and neck didn't loosen, in fact, they tightened deliciously.

Your chest heaved in time with his.

The words slipped from your tounge, "Are you sure you don't feel it, Morpheus?"

His eyes ignited and you knew his earlier rage just flickered back to life.

Never challenge Dream of the Endless.

But you refused to let him have the last word, even if meant furthering his anger.

So, you snapped forward, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away.

There was a sway in your hips as you turned, sauntering toward the imposing doors, lips bruised and blushing. Smugness filled your veins as the king made no move to stop you, still in shock.

You relished in it. Someone had rendered Dream of the Endless silent for the first time. You grinned in pride.

Once you reache the doors you allowe dyour head to turn to look over your shoulders.

A smirk teased at your lips, words sharp and taunting, "No one else will be able to compare with me, Morpheus. No one."

And then you slipped away, leaving Morpheus wanting and arouses.

No one wounded the Dream King's pride and got away with it.

You knew that all too well.

Merely having delayed your punishment, you relished in your last moments of freedom because you knew once Dream got back with The Corinthian he would end you with ease.

But he never came back.

He and Jessamy went silent. You could only faintly sense her but it was like she could not sense you at all, the ability to travel through realms somehow ripped away from her. There was nothing you could do, you didn't know where she was.

The Dream weakened without it's master, walls began to crumble and everyone began to wither, their creator no longer fueling them with his power. Soon it fell to Lucienne and you to command the Dreaming, as best you could.

Neither of you gave up, search parties were sent out. Saint's, you had even tried to find Death and ask for her help. Nothing worked. And ten years into it, you felt it.

Jessamy had died.

That was when most gave up, if one of Dream's most trusted companions was dead then he was far beyond any sort of reach.

Then, with no one to control them, the nightmares ran rampant.

Some had run to Delirum's realm, she did love dreams, after all. Others went to Asgard or the Fae realm. Lots fled to the Waking World and you went with them.

You were terrified they would be harmed, unknowing of humanity's violence and the other creatures that roamed. You helped them settle, protected them and taught them, you spent most of your time doing it.

Perhaps as a distraction, the Dreaming was falling to pieces and there was nothing you could do. The truth of that fact settled in the day you had gone to visit your dear friend and she ran into your arms, sniffling.

Her library was gone.

It remained that way for over a century. Then, one day, there was a title on a newspaper that made you freeze.

Sleeping beauty wakes up.

The King was back.

And most ran back to the Dreaming without hesitation. Yes, they had grown comfortable in the Waking World but they had to hide who they really were. The Dreaminf was home and the thought of home was wonderful.

One dream, Daphe, had said to come with them, that once Dream had heard of how you helped them and protected them he would spare you. You laughed and shook your head.

You were going to be punished for involving yourself with humans. You were going to stay here until the end, head held high and true to your desire for love.

You were going to die so why not go out with a bang?

Literally.

You spent almost every night this month at a different night club, taking different people home, sometimes multiple at once. You were being what Dream had made you to be, lustful. He could not blame you for following your sole purpose.

That led you to now.

The lights were bright against the dark shadows, the smell of sweat, alcohol and sex familiar to you as you danced in the crowd. You were having the time of your life, grinding against random men and women, kissing in dark corners and participating in body shots.

Then, you saw it.

A raven, watching you from the window, flying away when it knew you caught it.

Morpheus was close, then.

You sighed, and wormed your way out of the crowd, twisting around the bodies pressed together slowly. The cold night air struck your skin smoothly. You shivered slightly, perhaps it wasn't the best idea to wear a dress with a plunging v-line made from a flimsy fabric that barely covered the curve of your arse.

Too late now.

"Who are you, cause I know you're not Jessamy," Your voice was calm, light and uncaring, hiding the truth well.

The raven flew down, settling on the wall beside you awkwardly, not used to the wings, "I'm Matthew. How did you know I wasn't Jessamy."

You snorted, "Because she's dead," Then a fond smile slipped onto her face, "And because she wouldn't fly away when she'd been caught, she'd just stare you down, almost as intimidating as the king himself."

"I see," Matthew hummed, "You and she were close weren't you?"

Yes, you were.

Ignoring the burn in your eyes, you lifted your head to the twinkling sky, "He's coming for me, isn't he?"

He paused, "Yes..."

Your shoulders dropped, "Alright,"

And then you began to walk away.

"Hey! Where are you going!? If you run it'll just make it worse! The dreams don't want you to die! Not Merv or Gault or Lucienne or the brothers! They want you to live with them!" Matthew cried.

You laughed then, "It's not running when he already knows where I am. I just need to do something before I am punished."

The raven didn't respond but you felt his eyes on you as you called for a taxi, telling the driver the address to your luxurious flat.

When you finally got to said flat you almost flinched at the silence. You almost allowed yourself to break down into tears, everything you had done, learnt and lived for would be snatched away.

But you would not leave those you had come to leave wonder where you had gone.

Cathy would be the first, she always forgot to buy something at the shops and came knocking to see if you had it. Sam would be next, the cheeky bastard bored and asking you out for a good time. Amelia would be last. Oh, dear Amelia. She was your favourite, king and thoughtful but always ready to call you out on your bullshit.

Your hands shook as you wrote the letters someone would eventually find, pressing a kiss to each of them. You silently wished that they got everything and anything they wanted in life.

Then, your poured yourself a glass of wine and stared out the window, waiting.

And then, you felt it.

He was silent, pulling at your soul just like he always did as he appeared in your flat, presence as strong and dominating as you remembered it.

You swallowed harshly, this was it.

You forced yourself to turn.

The breath was knocked out of your throat at the sight of him.

Gods, you had forgotten just how glorious he looked.

Chizzled chin, alabaster skin that would look perfect covered in scratches and hickeys, silver eyes so deep you could see the universe in them. he was demanding as a king should be but you noticed a difference. He had changed somehow...well-hidden was the haunted look in his eyes, the tenseness of his body and the quiver of his soul.

Your heart lept in your chest, wanting nothing more than to comfort as you did so many aeons before. When no one could see him and he could allow himself to relax with one of his oldest creations. When he was willing to rest his head in the crook of your neck and reveal his true feelings.

You spoke first, more of a whisper, really, "Morpheus."

His name felt heavenly on your tongue.

"Y/n," He murmured in response, voice deep and raspy, it rumbled with thunder and the heaviness of stars.

The silence was imposing. You couldn't bare it.

"Are you...?" You couldn't get the question out, your lips wouldn't let you, "How is the Dreaming?"

How is the Dreaming? How is Lucienne? How are you?

You knew he caught onto the silent message in your words, he always did, "The Dreaming is well. As you know I was gone for a long time but I have returned, stronger than I have been in aeons."

Your heart hammered against your chest, "I suppose I won't be getting a quick punishment, then."

He stilled, staring at you.

Then his eyes shifted to the side.

You followed his gaze. He was staring at the pictures on the wall, honouring the two people you had loved most.

This was going to make him angry.

Oh well.

You sighed gently, "That woman was called Eliza, we had a good relationship in the eighties before she realised I didn't age. The man was called Charles, I nearly married him. but..."

"But what?" He questioned sharply.

"But he wasn't you," You told him simply.

You were not ashamed, you would never be.

You loved Dream of the Endless.

But many had loved Morpheus and none had ever survived the flame of his passion or the fires that came with wounding his heart.

He did not respond, as prideful as ever. Not even bothering to acknowledge your confession or what happened the last time you were together.

Your lips prickled at the thought, they missed his lips on theirs.

You scoffed, "Why are you asking me questions? Is this some kind of scare tactic, to get me scared before you punish me?" You hissed, "Just fucking kill me."

His eyes darkened at the thought.

This was it.

Then he said something that shocked you to your very core.

"You are frightened of me," His words confused you.

Then a hollow laugh escaped your lips, "Of course I am! I know what happens to those who defy you. I know the fate that awaits me!"

"No. You do not," He didn't yell but it felt like he did.

You froze. At first, you thought your min was consoling you before you end or that it had already come. But it hadn't and you weren't dead.

Morpheus stared at you from the other side of the room, goldy features glimmering in the moonlight as he studied you intently. A shiver ran down your spine at his predatory gaze, arousal whispering in the back of your mind.

Gods, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him until his mark was all that was left on your lips.

"You're not going to kill me?" You gasped, carefully.

He nodded, "No. I will not do anything to you."

An elated laugh escaped your mouth, almost hysterical. Soul reeling in surprise. You sipped the rest of your wine, a smirk on your face as you sashayed forward, "When I am going to celebrate by having sex with the biggest orgy I can find."

You passed Dream.

His hand latched onto your wrist, firm as he forced you to still.

His words almost came out as a growl, "No."

"Here we go," You muttered, you were definitely treading down the wrong path but Dream had made you impulsive and who were you if not his greatest creation?

He stared down at you, gaze so heated you felt it in your chest, "I will not have you pleasuring mortals."

You glowered, "I'm being lustful. One second you're angry at me for wanting something more and the next your angry at me for doing what I was made to."

Morpheus' grip on your wrist loosened, only to tighten again as he spoke, "I am not angry at you. But I will not have mortals indulging themselves in all that is you."

"Why? Because I am nothing but a dream?" You snapped.

His gaze was piercing, words even more so, "Because you are my dream and mine alone.

You stared at him, wide-eyed. All words dying on your tongue.

"We will return to the Dreaming, "He told you not acknowledging his words.

You narrowed your eyes and wretched your arm from his grasp furiously, "No."

"No?" He spat.

Over a century had gone by and he was still surprised by how insolent you were. And by how strongly he reacted when you grew closer to him, the fabric of your dress seeming so easily tearable.

"No," You spoke firmly, "You can't just say that and brush it off. I won't let you."

Dream was quick to make your suspicion seem foolish as he scoffed lightly, forcing an offended expression onto his face. He glowered down at you, "Dreams should not indulge themselves with mortals. Your implication is wrong. You're wrong."

You huffed, daring to take a step closer, feeling the heat of his body welcoming you, "Really? Because I think..." You smiled slyly, feline eyes glinting, "You want to repeat what happened in the throne room. You want to grab my chin, kiss me so hard you leave bruises as you put your leg between mine, pressing closer and closer..."

You knew you were right. Not even the Dream Lord himself was immune to your powers. You felt it rippling off of him, waves of desire and want flowing over you deliciously. You wanted more.

He remained silent, glaring down at you as his nostrils flared, dark eyes shimmering dangerously. His jaw was clenched and his body tense, holding himself back.

He was Dream of the Endless, he would not be bested by one of his creations.

You grinned slyly, "You do..."

He glowered, "I am your king..."

"And a king deserves to be worshipped, does he not?"

You dropped to your knees.

Morpheus' chest heaved as he watched you, making no move to stop you, daring you, challenging you.

Well, the challenge was accepted.

Slowly, you trailed your hands up his legs, sliding them toward the buckle of his belt, never moving your eyes from his own. You paused for a moment, letting him take in the sight of you, kneeling before him, hands grasping his belt.

You were letting him decide if he wanted this.

He made no move to stop you.

You smirked.

Your hands made quick work of his belt, skilful as they moved swiftly. You relished in the clink of the metal clasp as it fell to the floor beside you, a sharp noise in the tense silence. Easily, you pulled down his slacks, a sultry look glimmering in your eyes.

He shivered against the cold of your nails as you gently scratched up his bare legs, teasing around the band of his underwear, tight around his quickly hardening dick.

You saw the look in his eyes, silently demanding you stop your teasing.

You obliged without hesitation.

Hooking your fingers around the band of his underwear you pulled it down, finally daring to break your gaze.

A sound you had no idea you could make slipped from your mouth, barely above a whisper as your eyes fixated on his dick. It was lengthy and thick, as dominating as the rest of him was.

You shivered in delight.

Slowly, you lifted your hand and glided it across his cock, memorised. A sound escaped Morpheus' lips and a fire ignited in your chest, you wanted to draw every sound he could possibly make out of him.

His eyes were dark, intense with want when you looked at him, containing to run your hand along his erection. You delighted in how his muscles spasmed, his entire body racing to your slightest touch.

If he reacted this way to your hand, how would he react to your mouth?

You needed to find out.

You refused to break eye contact as you opened your mouth slowly, lips parting delicately. You quickly guided his cock to your mouth, lips fitting around the tip smoothly.

Morpheus' hand gripped the marble counter, fixated on the way your lips wrapped so perfectly around him.

So very perfect.

You took more of him. Slowly swiping your tongue along the base of his length. He shivered against you, pressing further into you. You smirked, moving so that all of him was in your mouth. A quiet groan escaped his lips, pretty and pink.

You wanted more sounds, louder sounds.

You bobbed your head once, twice, before you only had the tip of him in your mouth, tongue swirling against it. He stared at you, wide-eyed, drunken on pleasure, waiting for you to move again.

But you wouldn't, you wanted to draw everything out of him.

He groaned softly, knowing so well what you wanted.

"More," He grunted, "Give me more, y/n."

You lifted away only to say, "Yes, my king."

And then you fit him into your mouth in one go.

Morpheus hissed.

Your pace was quick, tantalizing as your tongue ran along every sensitive part it could. You relished in the darkness in his eyes as he watched you take him so very well. The shakiness in his breath delighted you. The heave in his chest excited you.

Dream of the Endless was falling apart because of you and you alone.

One of his hands was gripping the counter, the other tense, unsure of where to go. Quickly, you grabbed it and guided it to your hair, staring up at Morpheus with a siren's eyes. And you were a siren, drawing him in, intoxicating him like you had been doing for aeons.

He let his hand rest there for a moment. Then you licked the underside of his dick and his hand tightened into a fist, yanking at your hair as he groaned, becoming breathless so very easily.

You moaned at the stinging sensation.

Morpheus gasped, whined, and bucked into your mouth.

His dark eyes shimmered, "Again."

You moaned around him again, and he bucked into you again.

You could see it, Morpheus was chasing his high, pleasure streaming strongly through his veins, desperation clawing at him for release. he was losing himself to pleasure, consumed by you.

You took your head away.

Morpheus' chest heaved, slight confusion breaking through the haze of desire. He did not dare say a word, waiting for you.

You smiled prettily.

"Do you want it?" You hummed, "My king."

A raspy groan escaped his throat, and his hand tightened its grip on your hair, hypnotized by all that was you.

Yes, the answer was.

He wanted it all.

He wanted you to pleasure him then he wanted to make you fall apart over and over again until you knew nothing but his name. Until it was the only thing you could say. Until your body only knew his touch.

He wanted your legs around him, whines falling free from your pretty mouth as he thrust into you, arms desperately clinging to his shoulders, gasping his name. Morpheus.

Fuck, he wanted that.

His voice was deep, intoxicating, as he yanked your hair, eyes dark, "I am your king and you will please me."

You shivered, he was ordering you.

"Yes sir," You were a dutiful subject and would give anything he so desired.

A sound akin to a growl tore from Morpheus' throat instantly. he bucked his hips, using you just how he wanted to, chasing his release. And, fuck, was he chasing it. He grew louder and louder, moans echoing in the quiet, making your core burn for him.

You bobbed your head fervently, desperate for your king to spill into your mouth, to still in his euphoria, sweat coating his skin. Gods, you wanted it.

"Yesyesyes..." He panted, midnight hair clinging to his forehead.

He was so close.

You groaned against him, eyes unable or willing to break contact.

The hand that had been gripping the counter come to your cheek, brushing against your brow as Morpheus gasped, "Keep going, my dream. Make your king cum. Make your king cum."

Oh, fuck.

His sharp breaths filled the air, almost overpowering the sound of your pretty lips sucking his cock.

Suddenly, he became breathless, the loudest groan you had ever heard flying from his lips.

And he was cumming. Hard. Harder than he ever had before.

his grip on your hair kept you from moving, not that you wanted to. You wanted every last drop, every part of him. Morpheus' head was thrown back, lips parted in a silent scream, eyes screwed closed.

Gently, your hands ran up and down his legs, slowly drawing him from his high.

His chest heaved again and slowly he looked down at you, eyes glimmering like blown stars. His grip on your hair loosened, his other hand tenderly stroking your temple. You leaned into it openly, you would always accept affection from him.

Slowly, you pulled away, letting his length fall from your mouth with a delicious pop, Dream following your every move. You refused to break eye contact as you swallowed.

His eyes widened, the hand tracing your face gliding toward your lips, silently demanding that you open them. You did so. A quiet gasp fell from his divine mouth, you had swallowed it all. His eyes shimmered.

"Did I please you, my king?" You questioned both teasingly and not.

And suddenly, Morpheus was yanking you up, not allowing you time to blink as were pressed against the cold, marble counter.

You barely had a chance to gasp before his lips were on yours.

You met him with equal desperation. Aeons of pining and a century apart mixing together. You had missed one another dearly, more so than either of you realised before now.

He bit your lip teasingly, tongue battling with yours for dominance that you easily gave up. It was easy to become undone for the King of Dreams and you'd do it whenever he wanted you to.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as you jumped onto the counter, pulling him flush against you as you continued to kiss his blushing lips, memorising his taste. Berries, just like the throne room.

You moaned into his mouth, one hand tangling itself in his soft hair and the other desperately gripping his shoulder, his very bare shoulder. You forced yourself to break the kiss for a mere moment and looked him up and down, all of his clothes were gone.

You felt him smirk against you.

You relished in it, whispering in his ear, "Now that's a trick I like. Clothes can be such a nuisance."

A raspy chuckle came from him, bright eyes dark, "Not in this case."

And then you felt his hands on your thighs, "Would you rather my fingers or my tongue?"

"Fuck..." You murmured, shivering, "I want both."

"Then you shall have both," He hummed and with startling ease, your underwear was ripped off and it went straight to your core, pulsing.

Teasingly, his fingers ran across your thighs, drawing closer and closer to the place you wanted him to touch you most. You arched into him, desperate.

A sly grin made its way onto his lips as he darted toward your neck, latching on with a fierce kiss. He'd litter your neck in marks, and the whole of creation would know you were his.

He did not allow a word to escape your lips, one of his fingers twirling around your clit and the other slipping into your soaked heat with ease.

"Morpheus!" You cried with a whine, bucking into his hand.

You felt him smirk against your skin and were suddenly reminded of your earlier thought. His moonlight skin would look even more delicious when it was covered in your marks.

You were quick to pepper kisses to his jaw than his neck and when you came to his ear you got a very interesting reaction indeed.

He tensed, a gasp escaping his lips.

You didn't hesitate to bite it, kissing it teasingly.

Morpheus retaliated. Another finger drove into you, curling and twisting so perfectly you could already feel your high call on the horizon.

And then, he pressed against that spot of nerves.

You moaned, gripping his hair tighter as your chest pressed flush against his, "There."

He lifted his head from your neck, eyes teasing as he pressed against that spot once more, watching in fascination as you whined, "There?"

He pressed against it again.

You cried out, "Yes! Right fucking there!" Your forehead fell against his, "You're going to make me cum."

Suddenly, he stopped. You gasped in upset.

He gazed at you, wonder-struck, he had created you and yet all of these expressions were new to him. He wanted to see all of the expressions you could make.

He slowly pulled his fingers away and up to his mouth, sucking your juices off of them. You watched, hypnotized. He groaned quietly at the taste of you on his tongue, desperate to have more.

He wanted more.

He needed more.

And he dropped to his knees.

"Morpheus!" You gasped in surprise.

Dream of the Endless never kneeled for anyone.

Your hand came to grip his milky-white arm. It was wrong for a being such as him to kneel before one of his creations, a mere fragment of his power.

His eyes shimmered, taking a softer shine as he felt your emotions course through him.

Gently, he lifted your hand, staring up at you intently, "You are far more than my creation, y/n. Far more," His voice dropped, "Now, please don't stop me again."

You shivered, hands coming to grip the counter.

Morpheus smirked, "So good for me."

Then, he hiked your legs over his slender shoulders. And, fuck, his face was framed so perfectly in between them. Dark hair was swept across his forehead, dark eyes glittering brighter than the universe, and dark desire painted his lips.

The king didn't hesitate.

His tongue licked a strip along your folds and you gasped. Bloody hell. His mouth came to tease around your clit, sucking and slurping, eliciting sounds unknown to you from your lips. Your legs closed tighter around his head, forcing his face closer to your heat.

You felt him smirk against you and you shivered. Eyes seared in amusement. Oh, how he loved the way you fell apart for him.

Suddenly, he delved in.

Skillful was his tongue as it caressed you, licking every sensitive spot it could as your taste spilt down his chin. He could care less. He relished in it. To him, you were greater than anything else, he would never tire of you, he would want you for all eternity.

He could imagine it now, his tongue making you writhe on his thrown as he pleasured you. His tongue igniting something in you as you struggled to keep quiet in the halls. His tongue making you cry out as you cum over and over again on his bed.

Those thoughts fueled him. His tongue moved faster, the slurping noise so sinful growing deliciously louder.

You yelped in delight rutting against his face.

He rose a brow and his arm came up to hold your hips down, forcing you still for him. You whined at his pace, you had never felt euphoria as strong as this.

Morpheus was a god, greater than a god and he was yours.

You could feel your release coming.

"You're so good," You just managed to gasp, fixated on him, "So, so good. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum just for you, my king."

His eyes glinted.

He continued fervently. Whines spilt from your mouth like prayer as you grew further and further consumed by Morpheus. Fuck, the man knew how to use his tongue.

Your chest heaved, hands struggling to grip the counter as your body flooded with pleasure.

You were so close. So fucking close.

And then you were cumming.

The air was knocked out of you as your body shook with the strongest orgasm you had ever had. A broken whine fell from your lips as you fell apart against Morpheus, only aware of the delicious warmth of his body and the tantalizing chill of the counter.

The king, like a starving man, lapped up every drop of your release, almost cumming himself because of how divine you tasted on his tongue.

Softly, his hand came to clutch yours as he pulled you down from your high. Slowly, his tongue swirled around your heat, drawing you back into reality.

Through hooded eyes and a bleary mind, you gripped Morpheus' hand tighter, chest heaving as you stared down at him. His regal cheekbones glittered with the light of the moon, his eyes glimmered like galaxies, and his lips formed into a proud smirk as he admired his work.

A harsh kiss was pressed to your inner thigh, his teeth biting into your skin, marking you. You whined and a soft, caring kiss followed after.

"Come here...please..."You gasped breathlessly.

Morpheus followed your request without hesitation.

You sighed and your arms carefully came to wrap around his slender shoulders. He moved closer, the ridge of his nose brushing yours, gliding along your cheek as he swept some hair out of your face.

"I missed you," You whispered, almost hesitantly.

Morpheus' eyes fluttered closed, eyelashes like strands of the night sky as he murmured, "And I missed you," His forehead pressed against yours, "Come to the Dreaming with me."

It was a request, you realised. He was not ordering you.

"I will," You spoke softly.

Then you grinned mischievously, pressing closer to him.

Your lips found the shell of his ear, voice a tantalizing whisper, "Is that where you will have me?"

He shivered against you. Bright eyes darkening once more with lust, "I will have you everywhere. On my throne. Against the halls. In my chambers. But at this moment I cannot wait. I will have you here, now."

You giggled, "My bedroom's down the hall."

Morpheus smirked, hands coming down to tap your thighs, silently commanding you. You jumped up. His firm hands gripped your legs, pressing you as close to him as possible, groaning quietly in your ear.

And suddenly, it was impossible to be apart from him.

Your lips were acting fervently, pressing desperate kisses to his as he skilfully walked the two of you to your bed where he would ravish you entirely. Your lips attack his neck, playfully biting his ear as you sucked hickeys into his creamy white skin, the redness a beautiful contrast.

You were so consumed by kissing him and he, you, that neither of you realised you had made it to your bed. You fell onto it, Morpheus easily hovering over you with wonderous, intense eyes.

He looked godly. He looked perfect. He looked like your dream.

Your hand brushed his cheek, "You're beautiful."

His hand caught yours and he pressed the softest of kisses to your palm, "And you're enamouring."

Your heart fluttered. Your hands grasped his shoulders, slowly drifting along the curve of his collar-bones and then to the hardness of his chest.

He allowed you to feel him, slowly lowering himself to whisper, "I want your dress off, now."

"So demanding," You teased.

"I am a king," He rose a brow in response, hands easily gripping the hem of your dress and tugging it off your perfect body. As soon as your dream was thrown into a random corner, Dream's eyes darkened as he studied your body, entirely bare.

You smiled at his expression smugly, "You created all of this, Morpheus. Moulded me, shaped me, it's all yours."

"Yes, it is," He murmured, lips stealing a kiss from you, "And I will take it."

A fire burned in your stomach, igniting in your core as you stroked his length, hard once again. You lifted your head, lips brushing against his, "Then do it."

Morpheus' eyes darkened and with a speed only he possessed, your legs were hooked around his waist and he was hovering over you once more, caging you in his arms.

You shivered in delight.

He groaned lightly as one of his hands stroked his cock, easily lining it up with your burning heat, teasing you. You whined as his length ran across your folds, twirling around your clit, not yet filling you.

"Don't tease..." You gasped, desperate.

He smiled, amused, "Very well."

And the tip of his dick pressed into you.

You flung your head back, and a silent sound escaped your lips as your chest heaved. Fuck, if that's how his tip felt you couldn't wait to know what the rest of him felt like.

Your hands gripped the sheets, tight enough to tear them.

"Look at you," Morpheus' voice rumbled like lightning, "I've barely entered you and you're already a mess."

"Only for you," You mused, "Unless you would like me to tell you about my other--"

A whorish moan flood from your lips.

Your back arched.

Morpheus was inside. All of him.

A swear fell from his lips, an ancient language you know only faintly, and fuck, did it sound good. It was almost as good as how full you felt, how he stretched you so deliciously, how you fit him so fucking perfectly.

Morpheus' chest heaved as he reeled from the pleasure of having you squeeze around him, consuming him, taking him in a way no one else ever could.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, nails gripping his skin hard.

He shivered, fuck, he enjoyed that.

"Fuck me," Gasped, breathless, "Fuck me, Morpheus."

The god of a man chuckled above you, "Such a demanding little thing."

He didn't let you respond, bucking into you slowly, intensely.

You moaned, loudly.

"Now, now. You wouldn't want to disturb your neighbours, would you, my dream?" He ground against you, eyes glinting mischievously.

Your nails scratched up his back, eliciting a sound from him as you spoke, "I don't give two shits if they hear us, I just want you to fuck me."

"And I will," His voice was husky, deep with lust, "Until you know nothing but my name."

You didn't get a chance to respond to that. Dream's hips rutted deeply against yours, fucking into you perfectly. His thrusts were powerful, waves of pleasure shooting across you as he set his pace.

And fuck, it was brutal.

his body snapped against yours. Your headboard banged against the wall. You couldn't think of anything but him. He was relentless, fucking you so deeply the sound of slapping skin almost overpowered your moans.

You had never moaned so loud, body powerless against his body and will. You'd do whatever he wanted. Anything he wanted.

Morpheus' strong hands gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises and you welcomed his mark on you. Your nails scraped along his back. Tangled themselves in his hair as you whined and moaned.

"No other being can make you feel the I way do," He hissed in your ear, a king, as he hammered into you, "No other being will ever be able to have you the way I do. No one."

You nodded feverishly as his body rocked against yours, "No one. Only you. Only fucking you."

"That's right, my dream. My y/n," Morpheus moaned, gripping your legs tighter, pulling you closer, fucking you deeper.

You wanted to speak but words could not escape your mouth. Whines fell from your lips instead, loud and free as you arched your back.

He was too good. Dream was a passionate lover and you fucking loved it.

"Possessive," You just managed to gasp.

"Entirely," He smirked breathlessly.

You could feel your high storming toward you, faster than any orgasm before and you chased it. You bucked against him, somehow managing to match his impossibly animalistic pace as he fucked into roughly.

Your hands desperately clutched his shoulders.

He lowered his body, pressing it flush against yours as he groaned against your skin, "Are you going to cum, my dream? Are you going to cum with your king? Are you going to cum with me?"

Oh, fuck yes.

You frantically nodded your head, "Inside."

The thought of him leaving you now almost made you want to cry. You wanted him inside of you, wanted him to still against you as his cock twitched and he cummed.

Morpheus groaned, "As you wish."

You whined as loud as possible, body wrapped tightly around him as he fucked you. He filled you so deliciously, so perfectly. No one else could ever compare. You were almost screaming in pleasure now, consumed by your king.

You were on the verge, so very close.

"Morpheus," You whimpered.

Morpheus' head burrowed into the crook of your neck, lips flush against your skin as he panted a mantra, "Mine."

Your head pressed against his neck in response, lips brushing over the shell of his ear, "Yours. All fucking yours. Just like your mine."

He nodded erratically, barely able to collect a thought, drunken on the pleasure you gave him. So strong and unlike anything he had ever felt before, he was addicted.

His breaths were shallow, "Yours. All yours."

His hips canted against yours, both of you desperately chasing the releases that were riding toward you. He fucked you ferally, pace bruising and grips even more so, you loved it.

So close.

You pressed feverish kisses to his skin, gasping breathless breaths.

So, so close.

His face buried into your neck, moan wrenching from his lips.

And you shattered.

Your mouth opened into a scream of his name, "Morpheus!"

Your orgasm ripped through you. Stronger than anything before. Better than anything before. Morpheus' cum filled you as he nested deep within, groan filling the air.

You were floating, disconnected from reality, only aware of Morpheus and his touch.

Your chest heaved. Eyes wide, blurry. Mind dizzy with ecstasy. The delirium of desire easily consumes you.

Morpheus' voice rang deeply in your ear, "I have you, my dream. I have you, y/n."

And he did have you, body flush against yours, one hand still gripping your hip as the other reached forward, pulling your hair out of your face as he tenderly placed his forehead against yours.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, meeting his intense ones. They shone like creation, burned with passion and seared with something deeper. Something much deeper.

Your breath hitched.

The only sounds between you were your heavy breaths.

Morpheus pressed his forehead further against yours, nose and lips brushing against yours as he stared at you deeply.

His words were soft, slow, almost hesitant.

"I love you, y/n."

Your heart warmed, an uncontrollable smile spreading across your face.

You giggled lightly, "And it only took you almost all of existence to say it."

His pout was adorable.

Your hand came to cup his cheek, lips almost flush against his, "And I love you, Morpheus."

He pressed his lips to yours fervently, two souls separated no longer, finding their homes within each other, just like the fates decided it would be long ago. And Destiny, of course.

For the first time in a long time, Morpheus, the King of Dreams, Dream of the Endless was completely and utterly awake.

And he never wanted to be away from your side again.

Tags:

@kisses4kitty @kittycatcait219 @we-love-our-bandz

ok i loved it but my god i felt so embarrassed 🤦‍♀️ when morpheus caught us with his copy... oh my god i thought "earth swallow me"

Only in Dreams

Summary: Married to Dream of the Endless, for centuries, you never expected to feel neglected. Yet even after his return, his attention turned to the Dreaming and ensuring its stability and future. While, your own needs and wants pulled at you. And soon your dreams were slowly filled with pleasure. Just not exactly from Morpheus.

Word Count: ~4k

Reader: Afab

Warning: smut (unprotected sex, oral receiving (afab), switch!reader, switch!dream, dirty talk, fingering), bits of angst, and some fluff

Tags: @lizajane2, @layla2-49

MINOR DNI/ 18+ ONLY

Soft light filtered through the tall windows. Specs of dust glowed in the light, casting a dreamlike hazy in the air. The royal library was a spectacular sight. Endless floors, and winding mazes of shelves, continued to grow and grow.

Comforting, and welcoming.

Yet, a squeaky cart echoed, disrupting the peace. Or it would if anyone else were here enjoying the thousands and thousands of books.

It was you, and you alone. You wheeled around the infernal cart, shelving new books added to the Dreaming. While, Lucienne was off collecting a new census, and as you suspected, a reason to step outside the library’s walls.

But, company soon appeared.

“And what are you doing?” A presence loomed behind you.

Smiling to yourself, you barely turned your head in acknowledgement. “Shelving books.”

Morpheus hummed. “Care to have some company?”

“I would love some,” you smiled. You continued to move down the bookshelf with Morpheus trailing along like your shadow. “So, what have you been up to, my king?”

Morpheus moved to the side of you. “Usual business.”

“How vague,” you teased a bit.

A smile twitched on his lips. “I do not wish to bore you with all the details on how to run a kingdom.”

You hummed, twisting to shelve another book. A mistake. Instantly, like a spring loaded viper, Morpheus pressed himself against your back. His hands curled around the shelves above, white knuckling it. Still facing ahead, you smirked to yourself, “Yes, my king?”

His hand fell from the wooden shelves, and circled around your waist. “Why do you address me as such? Call me by my name, sweetness.”

You leaned your head back and whispered in his ear. “Morpheus.”

A groan rumbled in his throat.

Your heart skipped. It was such a beautiful noise. You laughed through your nose. “I think you have lied to me. I think you are the one in need of some company.”

“Is that a problem?” He buried his face into your neck.

“No.”

“Good.” He pressed a gentle kiss, almost desperate to refrain himself, in the crook of your neck. “Oh, how I have missed you.”

“Have you?”

“Yes,” he breathed into the shell of your ear, sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “You have tainted my thoughts all day, I could not focus at all.”

You spun around in his grasp. Books and shelves dug into your back. But, you didn’t mind. “Oh, have I? And what have you thought about?”

His lips skimmed over your neck. “Treacherous things.”

You bit your lip, and craned your neck. “Tell me.”

“Where do I start?” He nipped at your skin, eliciting a low hum from you. “One was you, your lovely bare body, laid out for me on our silk sheets. And you were squirming under my constant touch.” His hands travelled over your body. A hand snaked up, skimming over your breast and wrapped around your throat. He lifted his head, gauging your reaction. Your eyes were glassy with lust. A mimic of his own. He laughed through his nose. His hand trailed down and gripped your hips. “And you were making the most wondrous noises.”

You sighed, lost in his touch and spellbinding words. Your hands latched into his hair, needing him closer and needing to ground yourself.

He hummed as you carded your fingers through his hair. His thumbs rubbed teasing circles on your hips. All of it calculated, all of it to pull you in. It was so far, yet so close to where you truly needed him. “One was us on my throne with you on top. Your head was thrown back as you cried out in pleasure.”

You let out a shaky breath. Fuck. You rubbed your legs together wishing for some sort of relief.

“Another was here in the royal library,” he pressed his forehead to yours, “tucked away in a corner, like now. And we have to be, oh so, quiet but you, my love, could barely contain yourself.”

You tugged on his hair, making him moan quietly. You laughed, “I could not contain myself? Are you sure it wasn’t yourself you were mistaking?”

His eyes sparked with hunger, his lips curled into a devious smirk. “Shall we test this theory?”

You opened your eyes.

Black silk drapery. Not the captivating blue of a certain Endless. Soft cushioning hugged your back. Not sharp, somewhat uncomfortable, edges of books and wooden shelves.

It was a dream.

A idiotic dream.

You laid here in bed, and not in the royal library about to have a battle of wits and pleasure. Yet, you couldn’t shake off the dream. His voice still echoed through your head like a siren’s call. You rolled over. Empty. You reached over touching the spot where Morpheus would sleep.

Cold.

You sighed, frowning slightly. He must have left a while ago. It was sweet he did not wish to disturb you, but you wished he did.

You needed him.

In many ways right now.

However, you did not blame Morpheus. He had finally returned after so many years away. He had regained his tools, and had more power which he hadn’t had in ages. He was stronger, and wiser too. But, the years away, also brought paranoia. He didn’t want the Dreaming to fade as it did. Rebuilding it all from ruins was a long tiring journey, and now the Dreaming was thriving. Dreamers rejoiced. But, he still worried. He had busied himself with every detail, with every minor issue, to ensure an everlasting success.

And in doing so, he had started to neglect you.

His love.

Of course, in the first week of his return, he hardly left your side. He worshiped you like a fallen devotee begging for your forgiveness, he murmured his love on every square inch of your body, and he showed you again and again how years away had ruined him.

But, a kingdom needed their king.

His attention drifted back to the Dreaming, and ever so slowly he drew away from you.

You sighed, sitting up.

Your hands rested in your lap. You fiddled with the black band on your left hand. A simple band dipped in an inky onyx black, yet when you twisted it, it shone like far off galaxies: purples, blues, flecks of green, and twinkling stars. It resembled Morpheus, and his love, in every way.

You softly kissed the ring. “Morning, my sweet king.”

With a heavy heart, and a droop in your shoulders, you got out of bed and went off to find work.

Day after day.

Night after night.

The fissure between you and Morpheus grew. And so, those dreams became more and more frequent, and more intense.

And you couldn’t turn away from it.

Morpheus slid down your naked body. His eyes, once a delicate enchanting blue, now sharp and filled with a dangerous hunger. His lips dragged the curves of your body. Goosebumps chased after him. You wiggled, and hummed.

His lips skimmed further and further then -

He darted around where you so desperately wanted him. He peppered butterfly kisses across your inner thigh. Fleeting and soft, all of it left you wanting.

“Morpheus,” you whined.

He chuckled and nipped at your thigh. You gasped. “Patience, my love,” he whispered.

He moved to the other side, leaving a new trail of kisses, and marks, on your thigh. You bunched up the bedsheets. “Please, Morpheus.”

Off, in the outer edges of the Dreaming, a king heard his love call out his name. Morpheus, who was diligently working on new dreams and nightmares, spun around. He cocked his head. Did he truly hear you?

“Morpheus.”

His eyebrows knitted together. Why did you call him? Why now? Has something happened?

Curious, he stepped away from his soon to be creations. The bind that connected the two of you, tugged at his chest. Taking a single step, the dark sandy beach vanished like wisps of fog. It was all replaced with a bedroom: your shared bedroom.

And a sight was there to greet him.

You sprawled out on the bed, legs spread, as himself - a copy - buried his head between your thighs.

A dream. You dreamt all of this.

The fake gently blew on your needy core. His eyes flickered up. Your face was turned and buried into the pillow. Your lips parted. Your heavy breathing filled the silence, anticipating - begging - for his next move.

Morpheus stared stunned. His mouth agape.

The fake swiped over your folds with the flat of his tongue, then sucked on your clit. Your jaw dropped as your eyes shut in pleasure. The fake finally dove in. His expert tongue swirled and stroked all the right spots.

“Morpheus,” you moaned.

Your hands flew to his tousled hair, gripping it for dear life. Your back arched in pleasure. The fake hummed, sending your mind spinning. You squirmed. His firm hand pressed on your stomach forcing you down and still.

Morpheus, the real one, couldn’t look away.

Emotions clashed inside of him: anger, sorrow, jealousy, and also spikes of desire. Each one desperate to dominate him, yet he couldn’t grasp on one. He could only watch numbly as a poor copy of himself pleasured you.

You bucked your hip, trying to ride his face. The fake chuckled. The vibrations sent another wave of pleasure through you. You began chanting his name over and over like a broken prayer.

“Come, my sweetness,” the fake mumbled against you.

Morpheus left.

He didn’t wish to see anymore.

Now, he had something he must do.

The next morning, you still woke to an empty bed. The dream from the night before was muddled and hazy but a dull ache lingered in your heart. Yet, you continued on. You put your head down and got to work. Lucienne mentioned something the other day about needing assistance, so you went there.

Hours passed.

You never saw Morpheus. Unfortunately, as you predicted.

You and Lucienne chatted and laughed. Your own sorrows were forgotten for a fleeting moment. However, neither of you were aware of the shadow looming around you. A certain someone who still couldn’t comprehend what he saw last night.

He watched as you smiled and laughed as if nothing happened.

And in a way, nothing did.

Morpheus simply saw something he wasn’t supposed to. But, it continued to dig at him. Why? Why didn’t you come to him? Why did you act as if everything was fine? Why were you hiding this?

Later, he decided. He would address this later.

In the waning hours of the day, snuggled in a plush chair in your grand bedroom, you mindlessly flipped through a book. One, you weren’t truly reading. Your eyes scanned over the pages. Letters barely formed words. They skittered over the page and swirled tirelessly in your mind.

You huffed, setting your book down. You turned your attention to the flickering fireplace. Its heat warmed your cheeks, surrounding and filling you. As you stared at the whipping colors, your mind drifted to where it wished to go since the beginning.

Your dreams.

Your damned dreams that ran rampant.

You couldn’t free yourself from them. Morpheus now consumed your every thought, consumed your every needs. Physically and emotionally.

A door creaked open.

You peered behind you to see Morpheus. You smiled easily, your head resting back. “Hello, my sweet king.”

“Hello, my love.”

Not expecting any more of this conversation, you turned back to the fire. You suspected Morpheus to go to bed, weary from a day’s work. However, he surprised you. He sat down in the chair across from you. His coat wiped and flourished. His fingers threaded together resting them on his lap. His matching onyx band twinkled in the fire light. His eyes slid over to the flames.

The crackle of fire filled the pressing silence.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze was solely on the fire. His lips puckered in thought.

You may not have been physical in weeks, but it was daunting seeing how in recent days you hadn’t properly spoken to one another. It was awkward, and a little unnerving. It felt as if a stranger sat across from you.

“Are,” you began, getting Morpheus’s attention, “are you okay?”

Morpheus cocked his head in minor confusion. “Am I?”

“Yes, are you?”

“My sweetness, I am perfectly fine.”

You nodded.

“It is you who I worry about.”

Now, you were confused. “Me? Why?”

He sighed. The time has come. He got up and strolled over to you in three easy strides. Standing over you, he cupped your face. “Have I truly made you feel so abandoned?”

You scrunched up your face. “Abandoned? No, not -“

“My love, please, do not lie.”

“Morpheus, sweet Morpheus,” you hummed, smiling at him. Despite the obvious ache in your heart. “I don’t feel abandoned. I know of your duties and everything you must do.”

“But.”

You smiled softly. “I’m okay, I swear. You simply worry too much.”

The Dreaming is more important, you thought.

“Worry? Is it wrong to worry when I have forgotten the one I love?” He huffed. His thumb began to rub soothing circles on your cheek. “Yes, I do worry but, right now, I am more upset than anything.”

“Morpheus -“

“You needn’t lie for my pride. I already know the truth.”

You blinked.

He sighed, dropping his hand. “I have left you alone - needing - so you sought pleasure elsewhere.”

“What?” Your heart skipped. Fearful and slightly ashamed.

“You have used the Dreaming to create another me to fill your needs. I heard you calling out and to say I was surprised at the sight I saw is an understatement.”

Your cheeks warmed. You didn’t think he - “Morpheus, it’s fine. Honestly I don’t know why -“

“Tell me what you want.”

“Excuse me?”

He cupped your face with both hands, gently tilting your head back. He bent down. His lips brushed over yours, instantly drawing you in. “Tell me what you want, my love. Use me to fill your needs.”

“Morpheus -“

“Don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “A husband should care for the one they swore to love for eternity. And I have put my attention elsewhere. I’ve hurt you.”

Your hands slowly moved up bunching the front of his shirt. You haven’t had him - the real him - so close in a while. “You didn’t hurt me.”

It was the truth. You still loved him, always will.

He laughed once through his nose and smiled. “You are too good for me.”

Your hands wandered up further threading into the ends of his hair. You curled your fingers softly, nails scraping against the base of his head. He closed his eyes and hummed.

You bit back a knowing smirk. “It seems you have also neglected your needs, my sweet king.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I have.”

You finally pulled him in.

Your lips melded together. Like two puzzle pieces. Electricity ripples through your body. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss. He greedily followed your lead. You forcibly yanked on his hair. He moaned, opening his mouth. The perfect opportunity. Your tongue snuck in.

He groaned.

Your heart jumped. Oh, how you loved the bodies he made. It drove you crazy. Each hum, each moan, seemed to go through you.

He smirked against you.

Although he may give himself over to you, he did enjoy teasing you. As your tongue swirled around, soon Morpheus quickly gained control. He knew exactly what to do and knew your own body better than yourself. In seconds, you were a puddle in his grasp.

You whimpered.

He gently guided you to your feet. His expert fingers trailed down your spine leaving sparks. Morpheus’s hands moved to your hips. You threw your arms over his shoulders bringing him impossibly close. You both clumsily stumbled around. Yet, your chest started to constrict. Your lungs burned. Air, you needed air. You broke the kiss and rested your forehead on his. Your chest heaved in chaotic unison.

Morpheus drawed your hips closer.

The simple friction was fire across your starved skin. You bit the inside of your cheek, humming.

“What do you want?” He whispered.

“You,” you breathed out.

You walked forward, pushing Morpheus backwards until he hit the edge of the bed. He flopped. His arms sprawled out to the sides, his coat draped behind him, his hair pointed in all directions, his cheeks flushed, his lips parted and swollen, and his eyes - oh his eyes - were soft in absolute adoration.

He smiled lovingly up at you. “Use me as you wish, my love.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

You crawled up on top of him. You pulled him into another deepening kiss. He hummed, his hands flew up gripping your hips.

But, you ended the kiss quickly.

He groaned, disappointed.

You kissed the corner of his lips, down his face, over and up his jaw, then to his neck. He craned his neck back. You peppered kisses up and down his neck, and when you hit a certain spot, right at the crook, Morpheus’s hands tightened, possibly bruising your hips.

You smirked against his skin.

You nipped at him, starting to mark his perfect skin. He groaned, “(Y/N).”

It sent shivers down your spine, and directly to your core. His deep resonance, his pleas, it was dizzying.

Your hands snuck under his shirt tracing every taunt muscle. Your lips moved over his neck to the other side. He leaned, giving you easy access to nip, bite, and mark more of his skin. Your palm laid flat over his chest. His heart thrummed.

You leaned back.

He breathed heavily. His brilliant eyes darkened.

You grabbed the front of his shirt, yanking him up. Your lips smashed together, hot and heavy. And now, he decided to return the favor. His lips ghosted over your neck. Such a simple touch made your head fall back as you groaned.

He smirked.

Needing more, you grinded down.

Morpheus moaned, dropping his head on your shoulder. “Do that again, my love, and I won’t be able to control myself,” he mumbled.

You smirked, grinding down again. He chuckled darkly. He pulled back looking at you in the eye. His index finger and thumb wrapped around your chin, bringing you closer. “Is that what you want?”

Your pleasure meant the world to him. He wanted it to be about you.

“Yes,” you murmured.

“As you wish, my sweetness.”

You feverishly tore off each other’s clothes. Each layer fluttered to the bedroom floor, piles upon piles. Morpheus laid you gently on your back on the dark sheets. He hovered over you. He bent down kissing you softly. You hummed, knotting your fingers in his already messy hair. He pulled away, licking his lips.

Biting back a smile, you slowly pushed him downward. He smirked, taking your not so subtle hint. His lips trailed down your body.

His talented mouth kissed down the valley between your breasts then over to one. Slowly, taking one his mouth, he swirled his tongue over your perked nipple. You sighed, tightening your grip in his hair. His hand kneaded your other neglected breast. Working you, sending you into pleasure. He pinched your nipple.

“Morpheus.”

He popped out your breast and switched, working on the other one. You arched your back, moaning. He knew exactly what to do. He knew how to rile you up in the most delicious taintilizing ways. All of it, leaving you needing and begging for more.

His eyes flickered up. Your eyes were closed, as you fell apart to his touch. Smiling against your skin, he moved farther down, kissing and nipping at your skin. He nipped at your hips, then down your inner thigh.

You squirmed.

You were dripping, desperate for any friction, for some sort of relief. One finger dragged between your folds collecting your wetness. “Morpheus, please,” you begged.

“Patience, my love.”

One finger slid in, soft simple strokes. He was teasing you. Not offering you enough. You bucked your hips begging for more, desperately trying to ride his one finger.

Then he dove in.

His tongue swirled around your clit. You sighed in pleasure, and tugged on his hair. Another finger slid in. He pumped you, a soft rhythm, gently stroking your walls.

He curled his fingers, beckoning you.

You gasped. Your eyes flew open, and peered down at him. His dark eyes met yours. Buried between your thighs, he stared unwavering up at you. Heat spread throughout you. He curled his fingers again.

You moaned, your head falling back.

Each stroke brought you closer and closer and -

He stopped.

He removed his fingers and pulled away completely leaving you feeling utterly empty. You whined. Looking down at him, he put his two fingers, covered in your juices, in his mouth. He moaned at your taste. His tongue swirled around his fingers leaving you wishing it was you.

You bit your lip, whimpering.

He chuckled. “Do not worry, my sweetness. I’ll help.”

Crawling over top of you, he paused. He stared lovingly down at you. You smiled reaching up, cupping his face. He turned his head kissing your palm and down your inner wrist. He brought your hands over your head. Your fingers intertwined together. Your band and his clacked together.

He lined himself up.

He bent down kissing you.

Without warning, he slid in.

You moaned against his mouth, and he eagerly swallowed the noise. Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours. His dazzling blue eyes bore down at you. You smiled softly at him.

He rocked his hips.

Your face twisted in pleasure.

Slow and steady pace. Each movement filled and stretched you, each movement a show of his undying affection, each movement an apology for leaving you.

“Morpheus,” you whined.

“I know, bear with me, my love.” He dropped his head onto your shoulder. He kissed your skin as he gently rocked his hips. “You are truly too good for me.”

You tightened your hands in his. “I love you, Morpheus. Nothing will change that.”

“And I love you.”

He bucked his hips at a different angle. You moaned, arching your back. “Morpheus, please, faster.”

He smiled, and teasingly said. “If that is what you want.”

“Yes, more than anything.” You mewled.

He snapped his hips.

A new relentless pace. A string of curses left your lips. You instantly wrapped your legs around his hips. Pressure build and build. Your walls hugged his cock wonderfully, as he hit all the right spots. Like before, he knew your body well.

His heavy breathing fanned across your already hot skin.

He slipped one hand free from your grasp. Tracing down between your molded bodies, his finger circled around your cliff. “Fuck,” you hissed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Ah, look at me, my love.”

You cracked open your eyes to see the endless blue. He expertly swirled his finger again. Your mouth fell open.

“You are divine,” he whispered. Your wall fluttered around him, warning him. He groaned. He knew you were about to reach your end, and soon so was he. “Come for me.”

You whined.

“Come for your dear husband.”

His words fueled the already burning fire.

You cried out his name as you clamped down around him.

He smiled to himself.

He continued to work you through your orgasm sending you higher than before. Until, you were completely filled with ecstasy. You writhed beneath him, repeating only his name. Your mind clouded in only absolute pleasure.

Morpheus soon followed after. Your name tumbled off his lips in a low groan. He hovered over you, breathless. You smiled lazily, brushing his hair out of his flushed face.

He smiled down at you.

He fell down into the sheets. You instantly crawled over to him laying your head on his chest. Your ear pressed to his heart listening to its erratic beat as it began to slow down. His arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go. Not ever again. His finger drew lazy shapes on your still hot skin.

“If you need anything, do tell me,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you whispered against his skin.

His index finger titled your chin back. His eyes connected with yours, and he smiled softly. “Please,” he repeated, “do not think your needs are less than. You are more important in every way.”

You matched his smile. “Do not say that or I’ll have you trapped in here.”

He laughed once. “Please do from time to time.”

You laughed.

He bent his head pressing a loving kiss to your lips. You sighed, closing your eyes. Slowly, he pulled away and whispered. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

my heart almost stopped 80 times but i'm fine and my pussy too we both still want our lord In our bed

𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐮𝐬' 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐈𝐈.

⊹ pairing: morpheus x reader

⊹ summary: the much awaited, i-went-to-hell-for-inspiration, morpheus' love languages part 2: nsfw version. how he expresses his love languages when fucking you

⊹ tags: nsfw, morpheus is an adoring, reverent, woman-worshipping Endless who's always on his knees, the king of dreams is a giver

⊹ warnings: explicit language, explicit content (obviously), minors stay back (not that ever stopped me. if you are a minor, just know that sex might not be like this and do more research)

⊹ word count: 3027

⊹ previous part: morpheus' love languages part i.

⊹ now playing: take me to church by hozier

words of affirmation though he isn't the most vocal as an Endless, he does become vocal as a lover. or, specifically, he wants you to be. remember when i said he likes it when you talk to him? this applies here. (of course, by the time he's done with you, you won't be able to form words. but he'll accept desperate mewls of his name.)

call him by his name

not dream, but morpheus

gasp, groan, grunt, scream, whimper, murmur — every adjective of ‘said’ — say it in that way. he loves when you say his name and he the different ways you say it is akin to music. and if you whisper it right in his ear, his name hot against him so he can feel your desperation, he might just give you what you want and fuck you harder and faster

you tried to hold your moans back once

biggest mistake of your life

it doesn’t matter if you were only trying to hold back because you were in the library and mervyn, lucienne, and matthew were just three shelves down having a very serious meeting

though normally private in pda, perhaps that day morpheus was too frustration in being king and just wanted to be your lover. only a king had to worry about looking good in front of others. as your lover, all he had to worry about was pleasing you, and hearing the sounds you make was his signal that he was doing well

you thought that the sound of the shelves being rocked, your heavy breathing, and a book falling every now and then was telling enough what you were doing, and yes, you were a bit embarrassed to be found in such a compromising position with your skirt bunched up to your waist, one leg hooked around morpheus, and your head tilted to the sky as he attacked your neck

so when you bit down on your lip and slapped a hand over your mouth to hide your moans?

he is insulted (and you know how petty he gets) and fucks you even harder and faster than before

hoists both of your legs around his waist so he’s even closer and hits a spot in you that has you moaning obscenely and seeing stars. there’s no use hiding or explaining that away, but you don’t even think of the others anymore. all you can focus on is how he slams repeatedly into you again and again, one had rubbing furious circles on your clit, whispering orders in your ear to never deprive him of your sounds ever again

that as his lover, he owns every part of you (he definitely owns me), including those delicious sounds he purposefully and rightfully earns

and when you start making those sounds again, he is so fucking pleased with himself that he gets even harder

your hand falls from your mouth on its own and finds his hair, tugging on it, harder and harder as you reach your peak and he follows shortly after when you clench around him—all done with a loud cry of his name from you and your name coming out as a pleading grunt from him

when the two of you finally catch your breath, you peek around the shelves and find them gone

morpheus smirks at you before dragging you to the table for part two since “they’re not here anyway.”

always asks for consent

no matter how caught up he is in his emotions or pleasure, always asks you if you’re doing alright and if he’s doing alright touching your body

this man has a praise kink. tell him he’s doing well

tell him he’s fucking you so good as tears run down your cheeks and he’ll all but cum in you in that moment

tell him you were made for him as he bottoms out in you, and he’ll flip you over to your stomach and have his way and ruin you, leaving you a rambling mess who’s only coherent thought is his name

“you can take a little bit more of me, can’t you?” he whispers against your ear as you bite your lip to hold back your whimpers as he pushes inch by inch further, deeper, closer, into you. “you’ll do that for me?”

“you’re gonna make me cum” > “i’m going to cum”

he’ll make you squirt in thanks for reminding him that you’re orgasm is a product of his hard work

did you see how he pleaded with calliope to let him help her? imagine him begging to let him make you feel good

"i can make you feel so good, my love," he whispers as he puts one nipple in his mouth, suck and bite it gently, tugging on it, before releasing it and going to the other one. "let me?"

praise talk is his dirty talk. more into overstimulation and praise rather than edging and degradation cause he’s too in love with you to ever say those things or have you think, even for a second, that you are anything less than too good for him

type of person to say “i love you” as he fucks you

at the most intense moments, like when he’s about to orgasm, he mindlessly rambles out pleads for you to always stay with him and he needs you and you’re the only thing he needs (say less)

so tell him you need him. tell him only he can make you feel this good. because he’s definitely a giver, and the best compliment you can give a giver is to thank them for their service and tell them they’re doing a good job

physical touch this is an Endless who falls hard and intensely in love, as we see with his past lovers. it stands to reason that he'd fuck the same way. he makes sure that he is touching every inch of your body and you are touching every inch of him

has a thing for walls

likes to fuck you against them. either your back to it with your legs wrapped around his waist, or the side of your face pressed against it with your hands on either side as he takes you from behind

he will also eat you out with your back against a wall. makes it his personal mission to make your legs woozy enough that you literally collapse and he has to hold you up or you’re falling on the ground

overstimulation

worships your body

kissed every inch of your body once

on the days that you don’t feel the most confident, he’ll whisper his gratitude towards those parts against your skin until you believe him

is still a sucker for eye contact

looks up through his lashes as he eats you out

looks down at you as he fucks into you

but just because he wants to be gentle and passionate with you, doesn’t mean you can’t be rough with him. in fact, he welcomes it

tug his hair hard as he eats you out and you’ll hear the most guttural groan which you’ll feel vibrate in your cunt

dig your nails down his back and his hips will snap against yours in a speed that reminds you your lover is not a man, but an Endless

suck and bite his neck and enjoy watching him gasp and tighten his grip against your hips, enough to leave his handprint on your skin

however, there is one time you can elicit some roughness from him, and that’s when you ride him

you’ve ridden him on his throne

it was your idea the first time, and his idea every time after

legs on either side, his arms wrapped desperately against your waist as you slam down onto him and he slams up against you

he grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head backwards (see gif as example), exposing the column of your neck which he can mark and litter with kisses and bites

a very passionate lovemaker and puts emotions other than lust into it. when you two have sex, he doesn’t just do it to get rid of frustration or because he feels lust for you, but because he loves you enough to want to share this other part of him that so few get

is the type to link your hands together while he slides in and out

presses his forehead against yours when on top of you. he expects you to do the same when you’re on top

if he’s not waiting at your cunt with an open mouth as you orgasm, then he’s kissing you, as if to swallow the sounds of pleasure you make and further drowning in you

can unclasp your bra with one hand

pulls your underwear down with his teeth

bites on thighs

and neck

and chest

i’m not saying this man cries during sex (not that there’s anything wrong with that). but he does constantly have glassy/teary eyes during the show, so don’t be surprised if he gets a bit overwhelmed with his feelings for you and shed a tear or two

just kiss it away

acts of service he's always worshipped you before his capture, but after, he turns into a sinner looking for absolution from the only higher being he'd beg from. and the first step to absolution is looking for it on his knees

the first time you have sex after you reunite, he begs for forgiveness for being gone from you so long in his throne room

sits you on his throne and sinks to his knees before you

doesn’t even bother locking the door because he has no shame in anyone seeing him beg for absolution to you

and he doesn’t hold back from it either, alright? this Endless is making the most obscene noises as he loudly slurps and groans at the taste of you and moans at the sounds of you and ruts against his throne at the feeling of you, you, you

the first time you cum, he doesn’t stop and keeps fucking you with his tongue until he triggers a second one less than a minute later

he’ll add a finger soon enough

crooks it at just the right spot that it presses against the spongy part of you that makes your back arch off the throne and cum for the third time. at this point, your cum has started to drip off his throne, and he thinks about adding it as a design to his chair (you slap him on the back of his head as a no)

inserts another finger and starts pumping it in and out, in and out, even doing a scissor motion every now and then. you come the fourth time

the fifth time, he does all that plus play with your clit with his tongue. flicks at it, sucks on it, does everything you can possibly imagine be done with a tongue and two fingers until you squirt

and he still drinks it all. he takes those two fingers and uses it to scoop up all your cum and drinks it all

he always swallows whatever he’s able to draw out of you and whatever you’re willing to give him

and don't forget to sit on his face

he'd be more than happy to die underneath you, smothered by your thighs and cunt

if you try to do hold back and hover over his face, he'll ask you first if you like to squat over chairs rather than sit on them, before grabbing your things and pulling you down and not releasing you until he's done

if it isn’t clear yet, this man is a giver. gets genuine pleasure when he is the one to give you pleasure and can probably cum just from seeing you orgasm from his ministrations (he has and has no shame in it)

it might be how his possessiveness shows. knowing that only he can give you orgasms that intense is something he prides himself on

probably why he doesn’t mind when others look at you. all he’s looking at is your reactions, and you never show interest. you never give them the looks or sounds you make with him, and that’s enough that he just sits back, smirks, and pities the poor person who tried to hit on you

quality time as kim namjoon says in all night: "we keep all the party in this room all night. we don't wanna put it on the brake, hold tight."

the first time you reunite, he eats you out for hours

only stops because your body literally cannot go any longer and you might pass out (he debates whether he wants you to but lets you rest)

but the first time he fucks you, he doesn’t stop until you’re a whimpering, drooling mess who’s only thought is morpheus

and you do pass out

he’s there when you come to, and he starts again

morpheus rarely does quickies. he’s too intense and long-term for that. he likes to take his time to worship you and he doesn’t want to end because he ran out of time or he has an appointment with someone else. when he’s with you, you’re all he’s thinking about

however, he does like to take his time teasing you

and by that, i mean he can give you little teasing touches all day to get you worked up

hand on your upper thigh when eating with others

presses his front against your back as he reaches for something in the cabinet

might even touch you through your underwear without giving you too much—just to keep you wanting and waiting

he can last a pretty long time, and sessions with him usually involve you cumming so many times that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to cum again (you will. he’ll show you)

always engages foreplay. involves a heavy make out session coupled with groping that leads you to being wet enough that he can just slip inside you

likes to fuck you where its comfortable for you—bed, a couch (walls are his guilty pleasure, though)

will fuck you anywhere in the dreaming, though, cause it’s all him

might even be more intense for him since he can feel whatever surface he’s fucking you on and how hard he’s fucking you or how tight and desperate you’re holding on to the edge of that table

morning sex isn't as common since that's when you wake up from the dreaming

night is definitely prime time for sex

you know you're in for a long time when you have sex before you're even in the dreaming. when that happens, you better hold on, since you'll wake up more exhausted than before you slept

gift giving could be into toys, but he has to be the one who made it and he has to be the one using it on you. but why would you need toys anyway when you can have his cock

might be offended if you think he needs to use a toy to get to orgasm, as it suggests that he’s not enough

and if you say you want a toy just for the times he’s busy, he’ll tell you that he’s never too busy to give you an orgasm and proves it to you in that point

you’ll have to tell him that you can’t take enough if you want him to stop

rather, he uses toys to overstimulate

vibrator on clit while his tongue searches deeper in your fold or vice versa

the gift he does like to give you is lingerie

he gives you an assortment of different colours in different materials

his favourite is whatever makes you feel the most confident

gives you lingerie that is meant to be ripped off you

when he rips a set of lingerie that you actually really liked, he’ll apologize with kisses and promises that he’ll make you more before fucking you senseless

buys you lingerie from la perla. when you wear it to sleep and you arrive in the dreaming in it, he preens in delight

sometimes, he’ll give you lingerie from the dreaming while you’re in the dreaming. that’s completely under his control, and he can make it disappear in an instant

speaking of giving you toys in the dreaming, if he makes it, that he can get behind cause he has absolute control over it. his finger becomes the remote

that little underwear he gives you? with no warning, starts to fucking vibrate during dinner with lucienne. doesn’t ease up until you get up, flushed and with wobbly knees, and run to the hallway where you cum with a poorly concealed moan

when you return to the table, he looks to you with a knowing smirk. thankfully, lucienne remains unaware (or at least has the courtesy of pretending to be)

in the waking world, you like to wear his clothes after you wake up. in return, he takes your underwear

when you fuck in the dreaming, you wake up drenched and with a wet spot on your blanket. he sends you a new blanket as an unfelt apology which he’ll ruin the next night anyway

back to his greatest gift to you being his cock

i see him longer than wider (but not long enough to hurt you. 27-inch dick fanfic writers, stay back). you know, keeping in theme with his whole lean yet lanky physique

might be long enough that you can’t deepthroat him completely, though he appreciates the attempt

but the one time you steel yourself and manage to take him in all whole

nearly cums in your mouth immediately

wouldn’t expect you to do that all the time, of course. but on the special occasion that you want to put the focus on him, that’s the way to go

the way to morpheus’ heart is not through his heart, but through swallowing

all in all, this Endless is guaranteed to find his pleasure in yours, so make sure to tell him that he's doing well, keep your moans loud and uncontrolled, and he'll fuck you out of this universe

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: 𝗂𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆, 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗍 𝗎𝗉 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗎𝗋𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖾 — 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝖺𝗋, 𝖿𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗆𝖾.

𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈, 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝗅-𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍-𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗅𝖾 (𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌). 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖺𝗌𝗄 𝗆𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌. 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝗉𝗁𝖾𝗎𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗂 𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝗁𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗂 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀.

╰┈➤ 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘧!

𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩: @aurorarevenclaw1927

for the love of God... this story left me wanting Tom mr to make love being morpheus ok 👌 I loved this story too much... you should read it

Like silk (Morpheus x Reader)

Pairing: Morpheus x fem!reader

Summary: In the afterglow of your lovemaking, you marvel at your immortal lover’s softness, inside and out.

Warnings: nudity, not full-on smut but heavily mentioned throughout and initiated at the end (minors DNI!!!), the author is soft af for Dream’s ethereal features and it shows

Word count: ~1.1K

A/n: Just some fluff inspired by Calliope’s line in the comics quoted below. Hope you enjoy!

***

“He was so gentle, and his skin felt like white silk against my skin.” - Calliope, The Sandman #71

***

Soft.

Everything is so, so soft. The warm breeze sneaking through the open palace window, the thin sheet lovingly draped over your bare lower half but a few moments ago, the mattress you’re resting on, the pillow beneath your head. And the softest of all - your lover’s skin, pressed against yours as you lie in his arms.

You could tell at first glance that his body would no doubt feel as ethereal as he looked. But you hadn’t imagined just how smooth his skin could possibly be, how much it would feel like the finest silk as it glided over yours with each thrust.

In truth, you hadn’t anticipated how gentle he could be, either. You’d expected him to make love as dominantly as he behaved, if not as coldly. Undoubtedly seeking consent and aiming for your pleasure, but coaxing it from your body by commanding you towards it with his, claiming it without falter.

Instead, you’d found yourself showered in tender caresses and feather-light kisses, the tips of his fingers almost hesitant as they meticulously learned where and how to touch so you would tremble in delight. And though you relished the steel firmness of his chest and abdomen pressed flush against your softest parts as he moved inside you, he’d done so with the greatest care, taking notice of your every little reaction and adjusting accordingly. By the end, you’d been lost in a silky cloud of pleasure floating across the night sky, illuminated only by the stars in your lover’s eyes.

You have no doubt he could be rough in bed as well, and the thought isn’t unappealing in the slightest. But for now, you simply lie there, satiated and content with the length of your body half-covering his, and your fingers tracing idle lines over his heart. You marvel at how smoothly your fingertips glide along his alabaster skin as they follow the line between his well-defined pectoral muscles, then make a slow, winding trail over the right one.

Dream lies back with his eyes closed, though he never sleeps. He’s simply relishing your touch, his arm wrapped around you as he lightly brushes his own fingers over your shoulder.

“You’re so soft,” you mouth into his skin, barely a murmur. He gives a low, questioning hum. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think you’ve woken him from a deep slumber. You almost feel bad even so, having interrupted his rare moment of peace with such a random thought.

“I said, you’re very soft,” you repeat a bit sheepishly. “Your skin. It feels like silk.”

He’s silent for a moment. “Does that please you, my love?”

If his skin is white silk, his voice is black velvet. It rumbles deeply within his chest, where your cheek is resting.

You sigh at the feeling, but frown slightly as your hand pauses in its movement. “Why would it not?”

“A matter of taste, I suppose,” he says in casual manner. “I can alter any aspect of my appearance if you like. You need only ask.”

He says it like it’s nothing to him, and it is. But you find yourself almost... disturbed at the notion.

You lift yourself up so you’re sitting sideways, leaning on one hand while the other rests on his stomach. He reaches for it to play with your fingers now that you have removed yourself from his embrace. You look down at your touching hands, mesmerized by how well your fingers fit with his as he guides them into a languid dance of small, tender brushes against one another. Your eyes then drift to the contours of his beautifully chiseled abs, then travel across his strong chest, rising and falling with each breath, and finally linger on his face. The impossibly soft rosy lips whose touch you can still feel on every inch of your skin, the elegant line of his nose, the sharp jawline your fingertips had loved to trace, the black, unruly hair you had tugged on at the height of your pleasure, coaxing a low groan from your lover. And, last but not least, his eyes - the universe itself contained in two never-ending pools of starlight, spilling into the ocean of his irises.

You love him for what he is. His wondrous mind, his unwavering commitment to his given role despite its hardships, his depth of feeling, hard though as he strives to contain and conceal it. But you can’t deny that his physical form alone is the most ethereal, bewitching sight that has ever blessed your eyes.

“You are perfect, Morpheus,” you breathe out, holding back a shudder. To lose yourself like this in the image of him lying bare beside you is almost too much.

The lightest crease appears between his brows. His gaze stays locked on you as he sits up, bringing his face inches away from yours. He lowers his eyes to your body, studying you as you did him. His knuckles trace a gentle line over your skin, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in their wake - from your folded knee, along your thigh and over your hip, up your stomach, then pausing a moment to follow the soft curve of your breast. It takes but the lightest touch of his thumb on your nipple to have it grow into a stiff little peak, making you gasp and shudder as you try to keep still under his observing gaze.

His fingers continue their path over your fluttering heart, then up the sensitive skin of your neck, until he finally cups your cheek and looks you in the eye once more. You think he might say something, but he only parts his lips so he can close them over yours.

It makes sense. He never quite knows how to receive your kind words. But he is always oh-so-willing to be kind to you.

His lips taste of stardust and rainfall and home. Of everything he is and everything you dream of, because he is your dreams. And you sink into him as easily as you drift to sleep. Gently guided by his hands, you shift onto his lap, your thighs on each side of his. The hard length of him nudges at your lower belly, seeking permission.

“I want you again,” you mewl softly into his mouth, eagerly granting it.

He breaks the kiss to look into your eyes as he takes your wrist in his hand, and lowers it into the heated space between your bodies. He takes his time savouring the feeling as he wraps his fingers over yours around his length.

“I am yours,” he declares as if it’s the simplest, more natural thing in the world. You guide the tip of him to your entrance, sighing as it kisses your wet folds.

“And I am yours,” you vow in return.

Slowly, you sink down onto him, and abandon yourself once more to his silken embrace.

***

A/n: Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are very appreciated🤗

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totally agree with this

I think we need some more tom sturridge fanfiction that isn't morpheus but like his other characters. I must say morpheus hot but Tom's other characters he's played are also pretty cool. Just putting it out there people

please make a request to the entire tumblr community to make more tom sturridge stories please I need more content from him

Heya

Could you write a Tom sturridge one where the reader is also in sandman and is doing press with Tom? And they’re not yet dating, but they’re friends and very touchy (or maybe they’re like fwb, but not dating yet)

Idk, something like that

Oh yes I CAN!

Interview | Tom Sturridge

Sumarry - Tom and Y/n in an interview together, can you imagine the chaos that would be?

Pairing – Tom Sturridge X Actress!Reader | WC – 519

Notes: You guys are asking me SO MUCH more stories with Tom Sturridge, but don't worry I'll do it.

"I can't believe I'm here with You guys" The interviewer says fanning himself with the papers.

"Oh thank you." Y/n says smiling and Tom smiles too.

"Did you meet during the recordings?"

"Oh yeah, maybe you don't know but Y/n was a huge fan of mine you know? I'd even say she was obsessed with me, and it was even hard to make the recordings since she was looking at me all the time." Tom says making Y/n roll her eyes, and the interviewer laughs.

"Don't do that Tom, we all know that's a big lie."

"We know?" Tom says wiggling his eyebrows.

"Do you have any embarrassing moments to remember?" The interviewer asks and they both look thoughtful.

"Oh yes!"

"Y/n please no." Tom says holding Y/n's arm.

"Come on Tom, this is great."

"No, it is not!"

"Shortly after we met, Viviene and I went out for drinks at a little bar, so when Tom arrived he looked at me very surprised and said 'Are you old enough to drink?' That was so funny." Y/n says and Tom laughs remembering the scene.

"Oh come on look at that face!" Tom says pointing to Y/n.

"Tom I'm almost your age!" Y/n laughs and Tom hides his face in his hands.

"Oh my God!" The interviewer says laughing.

"He kept apologizing to me afterwards." Y/n says still laughing and taking Tom's shoulder.

"I personally am addicted to the interaction of your characters." The interviewer says to Y/n and Tom.

"We love our scenes together too." Tom says looking at Y/n.

"And it looks like your fans do too since there are a million edits of you out there."

"Really?" Tom says surprised.

"Yes you would know if you had a phone." Y/n says teasing Tom.

"I have a phone!"

"Yes, let's pretend we believe that."

The rest of the interview went well, with lots of laughs and memes, and when it was finally over, the two said their goodbyes to the interviewer and went backstage.

"Hi kitty come here often?" Tom says coming to Y/n's side with a bottle of water in his hand.

"Only when you're not." Y/n says teasing Tom.

"Ah." Tom says putting his hand on his chest.

They smile and look at each other fondly.

"How many more interviews do we have?" Tom asks taking a sip of water.

"Until we die."

"If it's with you, fine." Y/n pushes on Tom's chest making him laugh.

Tom looks around seeing that everyone is too distracted to pay any attention to them.

"So you…want to go out tonight?" Tom asks awkwardly.

"With whom?" Y/n says teasing him.

"Oh you are a difficult woman I see." Tom says bringing his face closer to Y/n's.

"Only for goths with blue eyes." Y/n says and gives Tom a kiss on the cheek.

Tom smiles and sees Y/n walking away.

"Is that a yes?!" Tom screams.