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sacrificialdaughterr · 15 days

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Something soft with abby x chubby reader? I don't see those much

I also love your writing, very underrated :)

a/n | being chubby myself, everything i write is automatically (in my mind) chubby reader. i think ill start adding it as a tag!! also thank you so much!!! i'm glad you like it <3<3

tags | abby x reader, fluff!! body worship(?), abby cant keep her hands to herself

There was something oddly comforting about the way pine soap mixed with the warm smell of a baking cake. Though two completely different aromas, they mixed beautifully, the sweet, chocolatey smell a perfect contrast to that of the earthy pine of Abby's usual soap. It almost had you feeling lightheaded, reeling in the way it wrapped around you as your hips swayed in time to the music; Stevie Nicks' raspy voice crackling from the record player sat in the corner of the kitchen.

The linoleum tiles felt cool beneath your bare feet, the soft fabric of the shirt you wore- something you stole from Abby- brushing against your skin as you let the melody of the music overtake you, leading you on a journey of relaxation as you impatiently waited for the ding! of the oven timer to grace your hearing.

You'd be lying if you said part of you wasn't doing this for attention- Abby's attention to be exact. You were all too familiar with how crazy it made her to see you dressed in one of her shirts; hem falling right at the curve of your ass, leaving little to the imagination as she drank in the sight of your plush thighs as if she were downright parched for it. You revelled in the way she'd whistle at you; a low, sultry whistle that sent goosebumps down your spine, always followed by drawled praise as her calloused hands groped and grabbed at your beautiful hips.

It was always the same story.

Even now.

A low whistle sliced through the air as easily as a knife through butter, the music nothing but background noise as you glanced over your shoulder. A shy smile pulled to your lips as your gaze landed on Abby; leaned against the doorframe, muscles rippling across her freckled biceps like the foamy waves that washed to shore. You suddenly became aware of how exposed you were, though you loved it, panties peeking out of the pine-infested fabric of the shirt that hugged your body.

"My baby.." She crooned, the obsession in her voice immediately diminishing the doubtful thoughts that swirled through your brain for merely a second. "Must be my lucky day.. Fuck.." She groaned, more to herself than anything, as her eyes travelled along the length of your plump figure, lingering on the way your thighs, even when standing, moulded together like clay.

A few long, quick strides later had Abby standing behind you, face finding the crook of your neck as she used your hips to pull you back into her. "What'd I do, angel? Hm?" She breathed out, warm breath caressing the shell of your ear.

Your eyebrows creased in question. Maybe it was how drunk you felt off her touch; rolling up the hem of your shirt to rub her hands along your bare sides, fingers ghosting across the rolls in your back, across the ridges of your stretch marks- or maybe it was the fact that she truly wasn't making much sense, but you didn't understand her words, what they were alluding to. "Nothing.." You mumbled, reassurance etched in your tone.

"Mm.." She hummed in thought, a smile of amusement pulling at the corners of her lips as she pulled back ever-so-slightly, blue eyes admiring the way her very own fingers sunk into your skin. In that moment, she understood how Michelangelo felt when he created the statue of David; skin made as soft as silk, features carved into the clay with the utmost love and attention as he constructed a piece of art that was almost biblical, had her wanting to fall to her knees and cry for at the sheer beauty bestowed before her. "Must've done something. I mean, shit.. Look at my pretty girl. All mine, yeah?"

Pressing your lips together, your gaze fell upon the kitchen counter as if the slowly-thickening bowl of icing you had been stirring was suddenly the most fascinating thing. Your face couldn't help but heat up as Abby's gentle words fully dawned upon you, settling over your nerves like a blanket of pure serenity. "Shush.." You managed to say- the only thing you managed to say, too flustered by the attention you were receiving to coherently form anything else.

"'M serious.." She mumbled, voice taking on a softer tone as she brushed stray hairs behind your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple as she hooked her strong arms around your waist. She rested her chin against your shoulder, lips brushing against your jawline as she mouthed the lyrics to the song you had completely forgotten about until this very moment, swaying languidly in time with the music that had suddenly taken its spot at the forefront of your mind.

Her fingers dipped into the icing, collecting the sweet substance on her calloused fingertips. With a soft, low hum of satisfaction, the taste of the homemade icing hit her taste buds- one that was then transferred to you; tongues mingling as her lips pressed against your own. "Wanna hear you say it, baby.." She drawled, smile gracing her features as she ran her palms against your hips in slow circles.

"Say what?" You merely squeaked in response.

"That you're all mine.."

The kitchen timer rang through the air, something that went unnoticed as you hung onto every word that dripped like honey from Abby's lips.

"I'm all yours," You finally whispered, dazed eyes glued to Abby's as your breathing grew unsteady, chest hitching in your futile attempt at taking a deep breath.

Abby nodded softly; an almost unnoticeable dip of her head. A satisfied smile found home on her freckled face as she pressed a soft, featherlight kiss to the tip of your nose.

Then she pulled away.

"Cake's gonna burn.."

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson moodboard #abby x you #abby anderson x reader #plus size!reader #chubby!reader #wlw #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us 2

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 months

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the two of the had always treated it as one big joke, was the thing. bruce and dick would put on a show together: a stumbling, overly-friendly yet well-intentioned gatsby and his young ward with a sweet tongue and an artful smile. laugh a little too loud, bat the eyes, play up the youth, and they had gotham eating out of their palms. it was fun, a punchline only the two of them were ever in on.

"that was a good one," bruce said, voice warm, deftly removing his cufflinks. "the bit with mrs. arlington's cosmetic surgery was particularly inspired."

"i thought so!" dick chirped back. his suit jacket was already draped over a chair in the sitting room, shoes flung off. "i mean, what could i possibly know about the divorce rumors."

bruce hummed in amused agreement. "i always forget how tiring brucie wayne is to play, though," he said. "for someone who doesn't exist, he's quite the effort."

right then, though, a quiet ripple of alarm went through dick. "wait, what do you mean brucie doesn't exist? what do you mean he's an effort?"

"i mean he's not...he's not real, dick. you know this." bruce shot him a confused glance. "he's a fiction i have to endure on occasion. having you there does make the theatre much more bearable, though."

"of cource brucie wayne is real. he's you!"

bruce was staring at him now, the tired comfort from a successful night wiped from his face. he was just confused, and more than a little concerned. heart on his cheek , always, helplessly (to dick, anyway). "it's just a performance, dick. it doesn't mean anything. you are well aware—"

but dick cut him off, shaking his head. "nothing is ever just a performance, b. that's not what performance is!"

and it killed him, gutted him that bruce didn't understand this, that he had failed to grasp 'brucie wayne' was poetic, was almost victorian, was a masterclass in crafting a mask around a kernel of truth. was the kind of murder you watched a play just to revel in at the end.

"i don't see how it isn't," bruce said, speaking very carefully. "the version of bruce wayne the public sees is a persona. his very existence is to perform the function of deceit."

"deceit?" dick said incredulously, almost laughing with it. "performing isn't deceit, bruce. and that's not what you're doing either." he jabbed a finger in bruce's general direction. "you way overplay how harmless brucie is, but you're not hardline serious all the time. with me and with other kids you meet on patrol, you're gentle."

"that isn't—"

dick kept steamrolling over him. "and sure, brucie is ridiculous sometimes. but you didn't pull that silliness out of thin air, did you? no, because you're playful with me and alfred."

"how i behave with you and alfred isn't a performance though, dick," bruce explained. "that's simply...well. that's who i am when i'm not pretending to be someone else."

"that's what you're missing, b. a performance isn't you pretending to be someone else. you're exaggerating certain parts of yourself like crazy, but at the heart of it all, you're still you."

"why does this affect you so much?" bruce asked. "you're hurting." you're hurting because of me, went unsaid. it wasn't an apology, but it was the closest dick was going to get.

"because brucie is bruce in all the ways that matter, and bruce is my best friend," dick said simply. "don't you dare tell me my best friend doesn't exist!"

bruce was still tense, though. like his heart was a step behind his head, like was a dandelion seed and the wind was unsure. so dick did what he should have done at the beginning of his whole ordeal: went over to him and looped his arms over his waist in a hug, as high as they would go.

"performing is a little tiring, but like batman is," dick mumbled into bruce's shirt. "it isn't a chore you gotta get through. it's an art, and you should have fun with it! because every show you put on is you basically just exaggerating different parts of yourself. you're not creating anyone new."

bruce reached down to hug dick in return, holding him close and sure, strength and sinew and sharing it all. "dick," he said honestly, "that sounds exhausting."

"yeah. but it's worth it," dick said in return. "you always perform for a reason. brucie exists 'cause you want to help people."

"i suppose that desire's real enough," bruce said, gentle. "in that case, thank you."

"for what?"

"for being my best friend, no matter the performance."

---

hahaha noooo being a performer from a young age hasn't impacted me or dick in any way at all we've got a perfectly normal relationship with performance i promise

anyway look guys!!! i wrote a thing!!! first time in forever idk my writing's rusty but i hope yall like it regardless. lmk if i should pop the taglist back in here i'm pretty sure half the people on that thing forgot i existed

#scribbles from the swamp #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #robin #dc #dick grayson fic #bruce wayne fic #batman fic #robin fic #dc fic #long post

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 3 months

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The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Prologue

I'm not super happy with this prologue but I've done my best with it :'). Also I gave God He/They pronouns. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 1227

Warnings: Uhhhh idk unless you count God as one.

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

Prologue // Chapter 1 >

Prologue

Before time began, there was her.

Cælitis (Definition): The divinities who dwell within the celestial planes. (Noun)

The Universe – The Beginning

Perhaps it was a coincidence, or a mistake, or there was something far greater beyond the confines of the ever-expanding walls of the universe. They had accepted solitary, thinking they were the only one, the first, when they awoke to a dark abyss, with the veins of creation pulsating at his fingertips. This was what God thought when they reached out for the first time, light bursting from within, shooting out and collecting into a colossal sphere. A star, he had named it, and he had much fun for who knows how long, floating through the endless vacuum, using these fiery balls of fire and gas to light his way. He would make them every colour he could think of, clumping some together to form the nebulas, or shooting some off into the middle of nowhere, just for the sake of it. Sometimes, he would press atoms so close together they would form rocks of all shapes and sizes, letting them wander and float around until they began clumping together into similar spherical shapes. He even swirled some clusters of stars and rocks around, watching as they turned into disks that would spin forever – galaxies, he decided to label them as. Before long, the universe was scattered with clusters of stars, planets, and whatever else they felt like creating, some so big their size was incomprehensible, others microscopic in comparison, and the rest varying in between.

When God had decided to rest their powers for a short while, he hadn’t expected to awake to the feeling that something was off when he observed his work. A small ripple, something he wouldn’t have picked up on if he knew they were the only being currently in existence. It passed through them, and he quickly shot towards the nebula that sat in the centre of his universal domain, their birthplace, so to speak. And what he came across was something very wrong. And he finally came to the realisation that he wasn’t alone.

It looked like a cloud at first. A dark mass that swirled and flared it tendrils around frantically as it contorted in and out of itself. He wouldn’t have been able to see it if it weren’t for the carnage it had left behind, it’s pitch black silhouette a stark contrast against the flickering specks of light behind it – the broken remains of his precious stars and planets.

Though he did not fear it. They knew that if this being had come into existence, it was here for a reason.

The Goddess was a being not many creatures knew about, and God wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t want anyone to know he had an equal, someone, if aware of everything they could do, could rival him and his authority.

He was Creation, and she was Destruction. Not solely there to destroy everything, no. She was brought into existence to ensure there was change, to make sure God didn’t slow down, always keeping him on his metaphorical feet. He had welcomed change when they had first come across her, but not too much. See, he wanted things to progress, but on his terms, so when the flailing tendrils of the Goddess had parted to reveal a mass of black wings and hundreds of very curious eyes peering up at them, he immediately took them under his own wings, teaching them the timeline of the universe around them. Her naivety hadn’t flown past him, she had just come into existence after all, and at this realisation he was delighted.

Billions of years passed by under the tutelage of God, telling the Goddess that she was his creation, what was divine and what was sacrilege. She absorbed it all, enchanted by the ways of what she believed to be her ‘creator’.

At one point, Destruction was overseeing a supernova just outside the Andromeda galaxy when God had approached her, eager to show her something. Reluctant but curious, she agreed, allowing them take her to another celestial plane, gesturing his arms out wide and welcoming her to Heaven.

He introduced her to his creations, his hierarchy of the divine. From the Seraphims, all the way down to the angels. For a time the Goddess resided with them, telling them about her ways of existence, though it wasn’t always received positively. In fact, there was only one creation that was intrigued by her path of dismantlement, a chirpy seraphim named Lucifer, who would spend most of his free time following her around with wide eager eyes, asking questions a mile a minute. The Goddess would always answer truthfully, and soon enough God began to grow weary of the friendly exchange between the two.

It wasn’t long before he was dragging her back through the planes, until they came across a very colourful planet. Entering through the atmosphere, the two floated down until they arrived on top of wall that encased a very interesting sight.

For as far as the eye could see, there was desert, but within the confines of this wall was a lush paradise, filled to the brim with every possible plant. The Garden of Eden.

God revealed two creatures that he had brought into existence, their names Adam, and Lilith, and they were to create the human race. Though his idea didn’t last very long – Lucifer had trailed after the Goddess into Eden one day, going off on another one of his excitable tangents on whatever was flying through his head at the time, when he had come face to face with the cunning and evaluating eyes of Lilith.

Obviously most know what happened after that, and God had quickly created Eve, but when she and Adam both failed his expectations after Lucifer and Lilith tempted them with the apple from the tree, he soon made changes.

The Seraphim and his new wife were cast down into a new celestial plane called Hell, and God then turned to the Goddess, seething, accusing her – that she had planted those thoughts and questions into his creation’s mind. They wouldn’t hear any excuse, leaving her until near the end of Adam and Eve’s once immortal life on Earth.

When he approached her again, they said he had a new job for her, and she followed, hopeful for their friendship to be restored, though doubts began to creep into her mind when she saw what was before her.

Purgatory, he had revealed it to be, was where she would take mortal souls after their physical body expired and sort them between Heaven and Hell. Next was the Underworld, where, if a soul was displaced in either of the two afterlives, it would go there to remain for eternity, or if she decided to send it back to Earth to be reincarnated. It was her new domain, where she would reside when she wasn’t on Earth collecting new souls.

Distressed, the Goddess asked why she was to do this, but God said nothing, only explaining further on what her new purpose entailed, and she grew more and more distraught at the new path he had laid out in front of her. She was no longer to be regarded as Destruction, but instead would spend the rest of eternity to be called a new, more fitting name, one he thought described her purpose of being perfectly:

Death.

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

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Prologue // Chapter 1 >

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#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

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dystopia-incognito · 6 months

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Male Werewolf x Female Reader

Warning: NSFW (minors DNI) contains sex/dubcon A short spicy story of 1,977 words about a young woman encountering a werewolf.

A little side note: I NEVER write, I'm a nervous wreck for just posting this. That being said.. I wrote this little dabble specifically for a very special person the night before their birthday as a surprise and I might never actually finish it. Do enjoy it for what it is, though! <3

Freedom. In a tranquil corner of the world, nestled by the edge of a serene lake, Y/N found her escape from the bustling village that had kept her busy for far too long. The cool, inviting water lapped gently at her feet as she sat on the grassy shore, her emotions swirling like a symphony. It was the first sensation that washed over her. As her toes touched the water's surface, she felt liberated. Here, away from the ceaseless demands of her family and the never-ending chores of the village, she could finally breathe. By this quiet lake, she could be herself, unburdened by obligations. She smiled and hiked up her modest dress a little higher to not get it wet, the lush grass beneath her bare legs seemed to embrace her like a lover. Overhead, the leaves rustled like ancient scrolls, and the rhythmic ripples of the lake provided a soothing lullaby. In this moment, she merged seamlessly with the natural world, an integral part of a harmonious landscape. The water's gentle caress on her ankles brought forth sheer delight. She wiggled her toes, savouring the exquisite sensation. With each movement, every ripple she created in the water, she found a wellspring of unadulterated joy. Her laughter echoed, blending harmoniously with the songs of the birds in the nearby trees. Her gaze was drawn to the horizon, where the sun's golden glow painted the sky with hues of orange and pink. Her thoughts wandered to the future, where dreams and aspirations converged. Her heart swelled with optimism and a sense of adventure, as if the world itself were an open book, waiting for her to write its next chapter. It was a future where her heart would find its truest desires, where every sunrise held the promise of new adventures, and where her spirit would soar unburdened.

As the sun descended lower, casting elongated shadows across the water's surface, she closed her eyes for a moment. The soft breeze gently played with her hair and gently kissed her cheeks, carrying the fragrant scent of the surrounding pines. It was a tranquil pause, a chance to gather her thoughts amidst the serenity of her secluded haven. But as the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting the forest clearing in a deepening twilight, she suddenly became aware of a presence. It was a sensation she couldn't ignore, a feeling that sent a shiver down her spine. Beyond the familiar forest clearing that had always felt like her refuge, something new and unsettling had emerged.

The tranquil harmony of nature seemed disrupted as if an intruder had entered this sacred space. She stood up slowly, brushing her out of her face, slipping hastily into her boots, her heart pounding with an inexplicable mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She scanned the tree line, her eyes straining to pierce the gathering darkness. And there, between the dense shrubbery and shadowy trees, she saw it— a pair of eyes glowing with an eerie luminescence. The intensity of their gaze sent a chill through her, and she felt a sense of foreboding. She considered the possibilities: perhaps it was a lone wolf, their eyes reflecting the fading light. Or, in the depths of her imagination, a more ominous thought took root— a creature of legend and terror.

As she slowly retreated from the water's edge, she couldn't tear her eyes away from those glowing orbs in the darkness. Her instincts told her to be cautious, to respect the untamed wildness of the forest, and to tread carefully as she made her way home. With each step, she couldn't shake the feeling that the presence she had sensed was something beyond the ordinary, something that had been drawn to the tranquil haven she had sought for solace and reflection. The mystery of those glowing eyes haunted her thoughts as she ventured back toward the village, journeying through the forest's depths. With a heart pounding in her chest, she hurriedly attempted to make her way back through the dark forest.

Fear of the possible threat had her senses on edge, and as she ventured deeper, an unsettling disorientation began to grip her. The once-familiar forest now felt foreign, as if the trees had rearranged themselves while her attention was drawn to the mysterious presence by the lake. Thick greenery pressed in from all sides, making it difficult to discern one path from another. The foliage seemed to conspire, creating an eerie sameness that made every turn look alike. Her footsteps, once confident, now faltered as uncertainty took hold. Panic threatened to consume her as she feared she had strayed from her familiar way home. The forest's natural beauty had transformed into an intimidating maze, where every tree and every shadow appeared as a deceptive mirror image of the last. As the encroaching darkness deepened, she battled her rising anxiety, pushing her body through the underbrush, trying to remember the landmarks she'd used countless times to navigate these woods.

It was a race against time and her fear, an urgent attempt to find her way back to the safety of the village before the night's secrets fully unfurled, and her fear of the unknown became a reality. As the unsettling sense of being stalked by what she could only assume to be a werewolf tightened its grip on her, she felt a growing unease that urged her to flee. Panic and adrenaline coursed through her veins, driving her to her feet as she started running through the dark forest. With each pounding step, her surroundings grew increasingly unfamiliar. Trees loomed like shadowy sentinels, and the underbrush seemed to tangle at her feet. She ran aimlessly, her heart thundering in her chest as she picked up speed, the urgency of escape driving her forward. In the oppressive darkness, the sound of her breath and the rush of her footsteps filled her ears. But then, she began to hear something else— a haunting, primal sound echoing through the trees. It was the unmistakable sound of pursuit, the creature she had feared drawing nearer with each passing moment.

The relentless rhythm of its power and grace echoed in her ears, a chilling reminder of the danger that chased her through the labyrinthine forest. She dared not glance back, for the terror had become all too real, her only thought was to find her way to safety in this perilous game of survival amidst the darkness. Her heart was pounding in her ears and her limbs failing her as she ran through the forest, her breath ragged and laboured, each step became a monumental effort. In her desperate flight, she suddenly tripped over a gnarled root, sprawling to the forest floor. Pain seared through her, but adrenaline surged through her veins. She scrambled to get up but hit the ground again, exhausted she realized, her escape had come to a heartbreaking halt.

Her body refused to obey her commands, with trembling limbs she lay there, chest heaving as she fought her burning lungs to breathe. She snapped her head up to look around, her nightmare had vanished into the shadows but she knew it was only a matter of time before it would catch up to her again. Willing herself to move, she managed to roll onto her back, peering into the direction she had come from as her eyes adjusted to the darkness surrounding her. Long minutes passed, and then over the sound of the blood rushing in her ears, she heard it — rustling of leaves and twigs, the eerie whisper of fur against the night air. The werewolf, with one giant leap, emerged from the shadows and fixed its feral eyes upon her.

Frozen in fear, she felt unable to breathe, dwarfed by its imposing size, she could feel the creature's hot breath as it drew near on all fours, coming as close as to hover over her. The scent of the forest and the wildness of the beast enveloped her, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, they remained locked in a tense and inexplicable stillness. Y/N couldn't tear her eyes away from the werewolf's gaze, and the creature's intelligent eyes seemed to calculate the situation, caught between predatory instincts and fascination with her presence. Then, with a hesitant and almost tender movement, the werewolf lowered its large head and sniffed her.

It was a surrealistically intimate moment, where the boundaries between fear and curiosity blurred into something she couldn't comprehend. Y/N, still frozen in place, allowed it to happen, her heart pounding in her chest. The forest rustled, the night held its breath and she and the this wild beast existed in a tense and enigmatic moment. She now was at the mercy of the unknown. Not knowing what the future held, in that fragile moment of shared vulnerability, something unexpected had passed between them.

…

And then the spell was abruptly broken as it leaned in, got a hold of her face, and licked it. Its tongue left long clammy strokes over her cheek and down the side of her neck. With its wet snout, it nudged the low neckline of her dress for access. She gasped and thrashed in sheer surprise, struggling to get away, but the werewolf muscled her back firmly to the lush forest floor. It withdrew slightly to look at her, growling a low, possessive warning which vibrated through her very being. In horror, she watched the beast's thick, viscous drool drip from its fangs and felt it land with a deliberate and heavy splat onto her chest. Shivers ran down her spine as the invasive syrupy substance tenaciously clung to the soft slopes of her rising and falling chest, lazily pooling down into her cleavage as it glistened in the dim moonlight.

She could only expect the worst, powerless, as it continued to sniff her. Its keen sense of smell and big paws explored her curvacious body, moving downwards to dip underneath the hem of her dress, sending her nerves on edge. Its snout then pushed upwards, moving her dress along with the motion, to nuzzle apart her thick trembling thighs. Her fingers dug into the fresh earth beneath her and her skin prickled as goosebumps appeared all over her body, But before she could even flinch it let her know once more, and quite vocally, she wasn't allowed to move. Taking two deep huffs of her, the werewolf's hot breath washed over her sex. A strangled noise escaped her, and then, without any warning, it hungrily began lapping at her. The sudden sheer sensation of it drew a high-pitched wail from her lips, like a wounded animal, her body curled in on itself, thighs clamping down weakly around its powerful head. Her hands shot down to grab white-knuckled fists full of the beast's thick mane as it continued, absolutely unbothered, to wetly slobber away at her. And it was too much at once. Her stomach tied in knots, and she shook with mixed emotions tumbling away inside her, even if pleasure slowly but surely bloomed in her core. Then the creature's head snapped up, licking its lips as sure goal-set glowing eyes met hers to stare her back down into submission, into the moss and dancing leaves beneath her. She was overwhelmed by it, the werewolf's sheer masculinity and assertive power made her feel more vulnerable than if she were completely exposed to him. It, on the other hand, wasted no time and grabbed at her, pulling her in and pushing her back against his hips eagerly. Her insides contracted involuntarily as it ripped at her dress for easier access to more of her body. She was met with throbbing heat on her newly exposed skin, carnal desire and the sheer size of Him against her tummy. Her mouth went dry with the realisation of what would happen next..

- FIN

#monster fucker #werewolf smut #werewolf lover #werewolves #werewolf x female reader #werewolf #my writing #please be gentle it's my first time (posting any of my writing that is)#werewolf boyfriend

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it-was-too-cold-always · 7 months

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Always Read the Fine Print Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Who actually reads all the terms and conditions? After mindlessly checking a box years ago, our Reader unintentionally agrees to be part of a scientific study to create super soldier babies. To make matters worse, her fellow test subject is the brooding and intimidating Bucky Barnes.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: The morning after the wedding, Bucky and the reader prepare for the next steps of the study.

Warnings: arranged marriage, forced proximity, lots of angst, violence, PTSD/nightmares, panic attacks, language, SMUT 18+ only, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex, size kink, let me know if I'm missing anything

You were half awake when morning came. You peeked your eyes open to see the bright sunlight flooding into the room. Too bright. You closed your eyes and groaned; you were too tired to be awake yet. Your body felt heavy and…sore? The memories of last night suddenly came flooding into your mind – you and Bucky finally had sex. And it was magical.

You looked over and saw Bucky, wide awake, watching you. His head was propped up with his metal arm, and his other hand was resting comfortably on your bare waist. You were both still completely naked, tangled in the soft sheets of your bed.

“Good morning, doll,” he whispered.

“Good morning,” you whispered back. “How long have you been staring at me?” He chuckled and rolled his eyes.

“Sweetheart, when the view is this good, it’s hard to look away,” he replied, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “But I’m afraid I won’t be able to stare much longer,” he said, the joking tone diminishing from his voice, “we have an appointment with SHIELD at 11:00.”

You frowned. This was a short-lived honeymoon, that’s for sure. You’ve been pushing down any thoughts or emotions related to the study, and now it was time to face everything head-on. The reality was setting in. Your stomach flipped and you felt like throwing up. Sensing your sudden discomfort, Bucky pulled you into his chest and rubbed your back.

“Let’s just do what needs to be done, one step at a time,” he whispered into your hair. “It’ll be okay.”

All you could do was nod. You were scared. You didn’t know what they would do if you didn’t get pregnant fast enough – or if you couldn’t get pregnant at all. And no one knows what’ll happen carrying a super soldier baby to term. Would your body even be strong enough? Your mind went to Twilight when Renesmee literally ripped herself out of Bella’s body. Screw that so hard.

“Let’s get cleaned up, then we can go downstairs and get you a cup of coffee,” Bucky suggested. The moment you got out from under the covers, you were very aware of your nakedness. Now, in broad daylight, you were feeling insecure about your body. But then Bucky got out of bed, and you were too distracted to be embarrassed. He was so chiseled; it was like he was sculpted by the gods. The strong muscles in his back and shoulders rippled as he got up and stretched. When he stood up, you blushed – you had a full view of his bare ass. You blushed even harder when he turned to face you. From last night, you could feel how big he was. But looking at him now, you wondered how the hell his cock even fit inside you. It was massive.

Bucky was amused by your blushing. You two spent all night making love, and now you’re suddenly bashful at the sight of him naked. He flashed you a smile, putting his hand on the small of your back as he led you to the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, he grabbed towels as you waited for the water to heat up. Holding back the curtain, he gestured towards the shower. “After you,” he said.

You smiled and hopped into the shower, letting the warm water relax your sore muscles. You’ve never had sex so intense and passionate before; you didn’t realize what a workout it was. You weren’t expecting Bucky to join you, so the feeling of his hands massaging your muscles startled you.

“Relax, doll. Let me take care of you,” he whispered into your ear. Slowly, you released the tension in your shoulders and let him take the lead. Between the heat from the water and his strong hands digging deep into your muscles, you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning. It all felt so immaculate. You felt so pampered.

Bucky groaned in response. He couldn’t help himself – the sweet sound of your moan brought him back to last night, and he was quickly aroused. You could feel it pressing into your lower back. He turned you around, took a moment to study your face, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. It deepened but remained slow and passionate. There was no rush, he was taking his sweet time. He moved from your lips to your neck, down to your breasts, taking one of your nipples and sucking. You moaned louder, tangling your fingers in his hair as he sucked and kissed your skin all the way down. His touch was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. You had goosebumps even in the steamy shower.

Before you could fully process what was happening, Bucky was on his knees, pinning you against the shower wall, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. He was slow and careful, wanting to remember every second of this moment. He looked up at you and murmured “my pretty wife,” right before he dove deep into your folds. You screamed in surprise - you weren’t expecting to be this reactive. Your clit was still sensitive from last night, making every touch more intense. He worked you over thoroughly, sucking your clit and pumping his fingers slowly inside you. It didn’t take much for you to come the first couple times (you lost track). Between his tongue and long fingers, you came undone quickly. Your legs were jelly. Bucky was the only thing keeping you upright against the wall.

You were in a wonderful euphoric haze when Bucky stood back up. He hooked your leg around his waist and held you tightly. Pulling you into another slow, passionate kiss, he slid inside of you. The intrusion made you gasp. You looked into each other’s eyes as he bottomed out. You’ve never felt more connected to another person in your entire life. Suddenly, you weren’t close enough to him. Pulling him into a more frenzied kiss, you grinded your hips, eliciting a growl from his throat. You needed more.

He dragged himself in and out of you, his eyes staring directly into your soul. You furrowed your brows – it still wasn’t enough. You needed to feel more of him. Sensing your desperation, Bucky picked up his pace until he was pounding into you. You were screaming, orgasm after orgasm ripping through your entire body. You were pretty sure he came at least twice, pulsing deep inside you but continuing his thrusts nonetheless. His cock was sinful. You were surprised he could last this long. Finally, when your pussy was too sore and his grip on your hips became too much, you tapped out. Resting your head on his shoulder, you tried to catch your breath. Your entire body was buzzing. Bucky was still holding you up, which you were grateful for. You’re pretty sure that if you tried to stand, you’d fall right over. Bucky softly kissed your temple, rubbing your back and murmuring praises into your ear - “so beautiful” and “all mine” were the only words you could make out in your incoherent state.

Bucky was true to his word – he had every intention of cleaning you up, even after he made a mess of you yet again. He massaged your scalp as he worked shampoo into your hair, ran his hands slowly over your body as he soaped you up, and dried you off with a soft, fluffy towel. Carrying you back into the bedroom, he set you down on the bed while he started getting dressed. You were too damn tired to get up and get dressed, and he could tell.

“I’ll be right back with your coffee,” he said with a grin, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. Checking the time on your phone, you realized you should at least try to get dressed. The meeting with SHIELD was less than an hour away.

Chapter 11

Taglist 💛

@kandis-mom @learisa @pono-pura-vida @smile1318 @stinkerbelle007 @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon @wonderland2425 @lowkeysebby @cookiie-c @mrsevans90 @touchit-pcy @vicmc624 @mrsbarnes32557038 @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @wonderland2425 @tsofo26 @missing-loki @aesthetic0cherryblossom @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @ladyvenera @buggy14 @emmsybucky @crist1216 @jessicaloons @vrittivsanghavi @avenirectioner

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #marvel #bucky angst #bucky smut

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lazybutsmexy · 1 year

Text

Heart-stopping

Alejandro Vargas x f!reader

Warnings: tiny bit of angst, mention of violence, description of injuries, otherwise pure fluff, pregnancy announcement, crack?

Summary: Only Alejandro can kill Alejandro. You may easily give him a heart attack, though.

On AO3

A/N: Sorry, this is not my triumphant comeback. I had to get this out of my system so I can continue my work. I hope to be able to write more soon though!

~•~•~•~•~•~

Only Alejandro can kill Alejandro.

The proverb was often repeated among his peers and subordinates with a mix of awe and reverence, and by his rivals and enemies with spiteful resignation.

You, however, repeated it as a mantra - or a prayer? - in your head whenever his chest rose and fell with every breath. Just like you had for a week now.

Just an hour earlier, the nurse had come with orders from the doctor to pull him off the meds keeping him asleep, and you anxiously wrung your hands together, waiting for any signal of your beloved Alejandro awakening.

When he finally shifted and gave signals of waking up, you released a shaky breath you weren't even aware of holding. His name fell from your lips in a whisper, and his eyes flew open as if a spell had been broken at the sound.

As soon as his eyes found yours, his lips flickered a smile, revealing the dimples that created ripples on his cheeks like the ocean.

"Buenos días, mi amor," he breathed out, his voice rugged and raspy from a combination of sleep and a dry throat.

"Es medianoche, pendejo," you offered him a wide grin, carefully approaching him and cupping his face, pressing your lips to his with the urgency that it warranted.

After the longest week of your life, your lover was finally awake.

A few seconds later, you pulled away and inwardly celebrated the little dispeased noise he made when trying to chase your lips. You offered him a glass of water instead, and he accepted it silently, taking slow sips until his parched throat didn't resemble a desert anymore.

Once he was satisfied, you took the glass back and cupped his face, your fingers stroking the growing stubble and brushing against the bandage covering his head.

"Are you hurting anywhere?" Your voice was quiet as you studied him carefully, looking for any hint of pain.

"I feel pretty numb all over," he groaned, nuzzling your hand like a sleepy cat, "I'm mostly confused as to why I'm here."

Your brows furrowed as you remembered the doctor had warned you about amnesia, and took you a few moments to finally gather your words.

"We were under heavy fire from the cartel while crossing the bridge," your hand slowly moved from his face to his chest, feeling the bandages under the hospital gown, "they got you between your chest plates, and the impact made you lose your balance."

You paused to take in a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay while you relived those memories. He watched you closely, his smile slowly falling at the signs of your distress.

"Oviedo jumped after you into the river, but you hit your head at the bottom real hard," you watched as his brows tightened and his fingers enveloped your wrist and his thumb traced your pulse, a silent apology of sorts. But Alejandro rarely ever apologized - or did anything else - silently.

"Lo siento mucho, mi amor," he offered, his heart breaking a little at the sight of the unshed tears pooling in your eyes, "I've made you worry for me again, didn't I?"

A sharp snort left you as you used your free hand to wipe the tears away. "I was worried sick, Alejo, and everyone else too," you briefly thought of Rudy, now in charge of the Vaqueros for the time being, and them too, who often texted you and called you for updates. "You were put in a coma for a week because your brain swelled up."

His eyes widened at the information, his fingers tightening around your wrist slightly. "Verga... That does sound pretty bad..."

You took a deep breathe in to compose yourself, and nodded as you leaned down to press your forehead to his bandaged head, enjoying the gentle warmth sipping from beneath them. "Doctor said you'll be out of commission for a while, until he's sure there's no lasting damage."

Alejandro suppressed a groan and a complaint at the news. He was a soldier commited to his cause, but he was also a realistic man. If he was in no shape to guide his men, he wouldn't dare put them in unnecessary danger. The quickest way to return to his duties would be to heal.

Only Alejandro can kill Alejandro.

The toughest man in the army.

Still, very much a man that can be brought down by bullets one day.

"What about you, mi amor?" He questioned you as he tenerly brushed your cheek with his fingers, eager to focus on something else. He noted the bags under your eyes, and let his eyes wander over your form. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

You kept in silence for a few seconds as you stared into his eyes, but moved to bury your face in his neck instead, immediately raising all the alarms in his mind. "... I'll be out of commission for a while, too."

His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your head, slowly stroking your scalp, "what happened, mi vida? Did they get you too?"

You enjoyed his touch with a secret smile in your lips. Even after all he endured, he cared so much about your well-being that it made your heart swell. It also made you feel just a tiny bit bad about what -or rather the way - you were going to tell him. But you wanted revenge for all those sleepless nights spent worried sick over him "...you did."

Alejandro blinked once before forcing your head off his shoulder so he could look straight at your face. His eyes searched yours in a raising panic as he registered your words.

He had no memory of the incident itself. Had you been close to him when he was shot? Had he hit you in the confusion after getting hit himself? He would never live it down. Even taking into account that in both your careers injuries were common place, he would never forgive himself if he had been the direct cause of any injury on you.

The warning bell from the machine registering his palpitations went off, signaling a worringly increase in his heartbeat, causing you to shake yourself from your trance to look at it.

Oh.

Oops.

"Alejo, tranquilo," you offered him an apologetic smile, laying your hand flat on his chest and rubbing it, "I'm sorry, I was just joking - kinda."

He blinked at you in confusion, his brows furrowing deeply as he looked at you as if you were insane.

"Esos chistes no son graciosos, amor," he scolded you, and you leaned in to kiss him sorry, but he pulled away with a petulant pout, "casi me da un infarto. I didn't know you were the kind of woman to make that kind of jokes."

You chuckled softly and pulled away, reaching into a paper envelope you had left earlier on the bedside table "Bueno, pero si me diste, Alejo," you smirked at him playfully, handing him the square picture, "you got me good."

He glared at you for a little longer before taking the picture, examining it. It had your name on one of the upper corners, and a circle zeroing on a tiny protuberance. "Y esto?"

"The reason I'll be out of commission, mi amor," you smiled at him warmly, "or should I call you papi? I mean, you should start getting used to it."

Alejandro's eyes shot up to meet yours again, this time wide as plates as your words sunk in. "...when did you...?"

"Doctor confirmed it two days ago," you stroked his cheek, watching him closely for any reaction. You hadn't actively talked about forming a family before, other than in a hypothetical future. So, you were still quite unsure whether or not he would take the news in stride or not.

You were rewarded with a wide grin that nearly parted his face in two, and his free hand moving to your body, tenderly landing on your belly. You reciprocrated with your own grin, your eyes flooding with fresh tears, this time out of pure happiness.

"Voy a ser papá?," he wanted to confirm, and you didn't wait to nod your head eagerly, leaning closer to him again until you were in range of a thousand of small kisses he spread over your face before pulling you in for a long kiss.

Only to be interrupted by the machine again, its alarm announcing his rising heartbeat and causing you to inch back from the kiss in a giggle.

"Alejo, tranquilo!"

~•~•~•~•~•~

BONUS:

"Soy tan feliz, mi amor," he mumbled in your temple, his lips brushing your skin. After the doctor had finally seen him after waking up, he spent a whole half a second trying to convince you to join him on the bed. He pulled you closer to him, enjoying your warmth and your closeness.

"I'm so elated," you hummed into his chest, before letting out a soft sigh, "I'm just not looking forward to your mamá berating us for getting pregnant before marriage."

"... Ay, pinche verga, cierto." He whispered in horror, the machine beeping loudly again at the thought of his very catholic mother reacting to the news.

"Alejo, cálmate!"

#alejandro vargas #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas x f!reader #alejandro x reader #f!reader #fem!reader #alejandro vargas fluff #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw2 x reader #cod mw2 x f!reader

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hrefna-the-raven · 8 months

Text

Cat and mouse

Masterlist - BG3 masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

Words: 930

Summary: you try to win that game of cat and mouse you're playing with Raphael

Warnings: smut mention, kind of, no real smut, not yet 😇

"We delivered the devil, now I want what I'm owed! We had a deal!", Astarion snapped, the tone of his voice cracking ever so slightly at the shock the newly found information provided.

"Indeed we did. I discovered all there is to know about those scars. It's a rather grim tale, even for my taste", Raphael chuckled, "but what can I say? Dear old father has a taste for drama."

"Yeah I wonder who else does?", you muttered passing them, not even bothering to look at the devil as you made your way towards the river not far away from your campside.

The argument between the devil and the vampire subsided the further you got away and a sense of relief washed over you as the only sounds that filled the air were the gentle flow of the river and the soft chirping of crickets. Outwardly, you tried to maintain an air of indifference towards Raphael, but internally, a tumultuous battle of emotions raged within you. From the very moment you first encountered the devil, there was a faint connection, something special that lingered in the shadows of your mind, silently intertwining with the unknown threads of fate.

You undressed and entered the water, feeling a shiver run through your body as the coldness brushed against your skin. Inhaling deeply, you descended into the depths, enveloped by the serene silence of the currents, finding solace as your restless thoughts gradually eased. Time was elusive beneath the surface; it could have been a minute, two, or an eternity as it seemed, until an ominous feeling of peril slowly crawled up your spine, compelling you to resurface once more.

A gasp escaped your lips as you suddenly found yourself face to face with Raphael's naked human form, his eyes, a deep, mesmerizing shade of brown, locked on yours. The two of you were suspended in the water, locked in a moment of tension and hidden desire.

"Are you aware that cats usually despise water?", he asked, his voice low and seductive.

"Then perhaps this cat must be very tempted to catch the mouse", you shrugged, attempting to sound nonchalant and unaffected.

"A real temptress this mouse is and very... elusive", he chuckled softly, his breath caressing your skin as he inched closer, "you've been trying to ignore me."

"And you've been keeping secrets from me", you turned away, attempting to conceal the heat that was spreading across your cheeks upon realising the growing intimacy between the two of you.

You sensed a ripple in the water, causing the hairs on your neck to stand on end as if a scorching breath brushed against your skin.

But as you turned around, splashing water where the devil had been, you realised that he had vanished. A quivering breath escaped your lips and just as your heartbeat calmed down, something seized your foot and forcefully dragged you beneath the water's surface.

In a panic, you tried let out a piercing scream that morphed into a cluster of bubbles and you kicked in all directions, desperately fighting to resurface. Eventually, you emerged from the depths of the water, gasping for air. Your eyes darted around, attempting to make sense of what had just occurred. Still in a state of shock, your realised that you were no longer in the river. Instead, you found yourself confined again within that same room with its walls adorned in crimson hues and the opulent bed, this time pinned in the pool under Raphael's bare demonic figure. He leered down at you, his eyes flickering with an insatiable hunger and desire.

"My little mouse", he whispered into your ear, gently grazing his teeth along your neck, eliciting a suppressed moan that you fought to hold back.

In a desperate attempt to create some distance, you placed your hand on his chest, only to find your efforts futile.

"My cat", you swallowed nervously, "I propose a... deal."

Raphael raised an eyebrow, surprised by your sudden choice of words.

"A deal? How intriguing", his husky voice sending shivers down your spine.

"You'll tell me the complete truth about your feelings towards me", your fingers trailed down his chest in a newly found burst of confidence.

"And what do I get in return?", he half moaned, his growing desire evident.

This was a perilous game he found himself playing. If he wasn't careful, he would be ensnared by you instead of the other way around. Whatever enchantment you held over him was becoming increasingly difficult to resist.

"The chase ends once and for all", you wrapped your fingers around his hard length.

A primal sound emanated from the depths of the cambion's chest as he pressed his face against your neck, his hips instinctively moving to seek more of your captivating caress. It was at this precise moment that you realised you had him, despite any attempts he may make to cheat his way out this deal, his response spoke volumes, confirming the lingering doubt that had haunted you since the encounter at the mausoleum.

"So, do we have a deal, devil?", you leaned against his warm cheek.

The words slipped from your lips, a soft whisper while your hand kept stroking his cock. Raphael raised his head, his black pupils dilated with an intense longing. His lips crashed onto yours, submerging you beneath the water's surface, his weight pressing down upon you.

But just as suddenly as it began, it ceased. The sensation of his scorching skin against yours vanished, and you found yourself back in the river near the camp.

"Foul creature," you muttered quietly, attempting to push aside the pulsating heat between your thighs.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #raphael #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x you #hidden feelings #almost smut #almost love confession #raphael is a sexy devil

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piratemousey · 8 months

Text

Hymn on the Wind

Tav x Gale

Warning: bg3 act 2 spoilers, original poetry

Under the cut is a spicy ending for people who want. CW: oral sex, sexual situations, it's basically a blow job how to if you're looking for tips, I'm very good at it.

Part 3

Rythmn of Us

Tav peaked out of her tent. When she spotted Gale, she jogged over to him, then slowed down, attempting to act casual as she approached. He was looking over the map they'd been building of the cursed lands..

After Gale had created a beautiful night for Tav two nights ago, he'd confessed his love for her. She told Gale she loved him too. The next day her and Karlach decided they needed to get to the creche as Lae'zel insisted.

It was the thinnest excuse for an adventure in history. Of course, Tav wanted to go to the creche, but she also wanted to extend the time she had with Gale. The last time they'd talked about the b-o-m-b issue, he seemed resigned to his fate. But Tav had promised herself and her companions that she would save Gale, if even from his own self-hate.

Gale had smiled and nodded at the news of going to the creche as he normally did when Tav made a decision, but Gale was far too smart for Tav to imagine she'd fooled him.

"Gale, can I show you something?" Tav asked.

"If it's your own magic trick again, I'll remind you that you lost my favorite hat in a fire." Gale said. He straightened from the map to turn towards her approach. Gale smiled at seeing Tav. "Of course, I'll come, my love. Lead the way."

Tav slipped her hand in his hand as she smiled at Gale. Tav convinced Astarion, Wyll, and Lae'zel to go for supplies and do more scouting of the large temple they'd found that day.

As Tav pulled Gale into her tent, Tav was bubbling with excitement.

"I can't wait to see this, you're so excited." Gale said. Gale's eyes were bright and hopeful, just a dash of concern. He loved Tav, and she could feel it ripple through her when he spoke sweetly.

Tav had set her tent up next to a stone wall, which they'd killed some undead when they first arrived. The land against the wall was flat and slightly elevated and wide enough for a makeshift bed. It would offer them extra privacy and some comfort.

Tav had lit a few candles and borrowed an incense stick from Shadowheart that smelled of the kind of oak wood found in libraries. She wanted everything to be perfect.

Tav walked over to the music box where she had it with her lute and an unopened bottle of wine.

"I found this at the old house of healing a few days ago. It was on a hearth, it reminded me of my mother. I don't know why I took it, it's not valuable and it'll only take up space."

"You'll keep it for the same reason we keep every scrap of paper we find," Gale said.

"You've given it meaning." Gale reached his hand for the box, pausing before touching it. "May I?"

"Yes," Tav said.

Gale lifted the small box with care. He turned it in his hands, viewing the craftsmanship and the detailing. As a wizard from wealth, Gale was practiced at handling crumbling tomes and powerful artifacts. It warmed Tav's heart that he used the same care for a music box with faded paint and looked as if it was made with dull tools. All because she said it was special to her.

"When I saw it it reminded me of one she had. She said my father gave it to her, but who knows, she told so many stories."

"You don't talk much of them," Gale observed. "I imagine it's painful."

"She told me that she was everything he wanted her to be, she changed herself a thousand ways for him. Still, he hurt her. He's dead now, I don't care why."

"I asked her why she kept something that held such bad memories," Tav continued the story she'd been telling.

"And what did she say?" Gale asked. He raised a brow, aware he was being told a story. For Tav, storytelling was all around her. She brought Gale into her story. She'd introduced him to the characters, explained the jokes, and then made him a main returning lead when they'd fallen in love.

"She told me that the box didn't hold bad memories. It held music and treasures. The scars he left and his corpse, that's where the bad memories lived." Tav said. "She said, "He doesn't get the music."

"There is wisdom in her words." Gale said in his soft way. He handed Tav the music box.

"I know you've said all you will on the subject," Tav felt a tightness form in her throat at bringing up the unhappy subject. "And that's fine," she saw him take a breath as if settling himself from a surge of emotions. He watched her steadily, trusting her.

"I know Mystra is magic, but music and storytelling is my magic. And it's outside of her domain. I had trouble finding the words. I even thought of writing a song about the unethical nature of bombs, but I give Astarion and Karlach so many explosives." She said this last bit as if it was something even she found worrying.

Gale chuckled and Tav felt a warmth knowing she'd made him happy.

Tav turned the key in the music box and set it down.

"That's the song you've been playing," Gale noted.

"Yes, I've been practicing," She said proudly. She set the leather strap of her lute over her shoulder.

The soft tune that had struck her when she first heard it rose between them, surrounding them with its melody.

"Music is my domain and she can't have it. So no songs to convince, only songs about love."

Gale rested his arms across his chest, his right hand settling on his lips. He smiled amused at her words and brave defiance.

She plucked at the strings building the score she added to the music box music. They blended and created a slightly upbeat rhythm that she could shift up or down in tempo as the moods of the song shifted from romance to humor.

"Your name in the wind,

You're magic on my skin.

We both love wine and art,

You're the song inside my heart."

Gale laughed, smiling warmly.

"Each day starts anew,

With thoughts of love for you.

Scratch, Quoth, and owlbear Ol-lie,

We make a great adventuring par-ty."

She repeated the music for the verse adding some deep notes that reverberated in her lute. Then she moved to the last verse.

"The world will be scary,

We know things get hairy.

With your power, the stars we'll see,

Dancing to the rhythm of you and me.

Dancing to the rhythm of us."

She ended with a big flourish. Tav hadn't been so nervous to perform in years. Her face was hot but she smiled because she had fun singing and playing.

Gale clapped his hands laughing. "To think I once dabbled in poetry," Gale said. His eyes pools of love for Tav.

Tav set her lute down. The music box notes tinkled softly before the key wound down. She stepped closer to Gale, and he immediately pulled her into a hug.

Gale leaned back from the hug, keeping her held close. "You wrote that for me?" He set his hand on his chest.

Tav knew the orb lived there, the thing that would take him from her. But Gale was so much more than that orb. He was there first.

"I've never had anyone write something for me," he said. "The last bard I woo'd left before I'd finished pouring the wine."

"Gale, if you tell me about one more person, god, or fae who's been mean to you, I'm going to start hunting people." Tav said with fake annoyance.

"I'm sorry, my love," Gale said, earnest in his apology.

Tav hugged Gale tightly, her arms around his neck.

"You can tell me everything, Gale," Tav said. "I just get mad when I know someone's hurt you. You're so sweet."

"I've been known to be a bastard from time to time," Gale said with a wry grin.

"I don't believe it," Tav said, smiling up at Gale. She had no delusions that Gale was a saint. But she loved to joke and play with him.

"Thank you, for your gift," Gale said. He brushed Tav's cheek with the back of his fingers. "I can't imagine what I've done to deserve it."

"You've been here for me, and the others. We're in this together which means we stay together." Tav said.

Gale's eyes fell with the weight of his choice. They both knew that she was referring to what Mystra asked of him. Tav worried that if Gale thought she was just trying to manipulate him, he'd reject her gift and his chance to live.

"I know it worries you," Gale said, his eye met hers again. "I know that your gesture was made with kindness. So, I will treasure it."

"I love you, Gale," Tav said. She felt the familiar rush of love that blossomed whenever she spoke those words to him.

Gale smiled, cradling Tav's face gently. "I love you, my beautiful Tav."

Tav and Gale kissed. She expected his kiss to remain gentle but it was more passionate. She leaned into it, rubbing the back of Gale's neck with her hand. When they broke apart, Tav was breathless and her knees felt unstable.

"I'm glad you like it." Tav said. She rested her nose against his. "Astarion suggest a cross between a massage and torture I think."

"I'm glad you listened to your instincts then," Gale said with a disgruntled head shake. He leaned in to kiss Tav again. She could feel the smile on his lips.

The heat in her belly was already spreading over her body. She wanted Gale. She wanted to feel his hands on her skin, she wanted to live only in the moments where they were making each other feel good.

She could tell from how he moaned low in his throat and his hands had begun to wonder that he wanted her to.

Tav and Gale's passion grew. He kissed her neck, kissing over her ear softly. "Will you sing more for me, my love." His hand slid between her legs and Tav's breath caught.

She backed up and guided him to the bed. She gestured for him to sit on the step she'd made into the bed.

"My love, let me return the favor of your gift," he held onto her hips as she stood over him. He kissed her tummy.

"You asked me to sing," Tav knelt between Gale's knees. "I know this special bard throat technique I can show you."

Gale's face was red with a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. He was still growing used to be desired.

"I wouldn't dream of interrupting an artist during a performance," Gale said.

Tav kissed his lips softly. "You just sit back and be my muse." She had already started undoing his pants.

Gale hummed her tune absently and she could only hope her words got through.

The last time they'd made love, Gale asked Tav questions about her pleasure. He studied her body and even shared his own desires.

Tav pulled Gale from his pants. She opened her shirt, unclasping her bra the way he liked it. Gale liked when her breasts peaked out but were covered enough that he could touch and expose them when he wanted.

Tav stroked Gale with one hand while her other cradled his balls. He pulled her face to his, kissing her while she touched him. Tav started humming the tune of the bard throat trick. It was a low octave, but Tav was practiced. She separated from Gale, giving him a loving look while he gazed at her with warm brown eyes.

She slid her mouth over his sex softly caressing the head with her mouth. Tav filled her mouth with saliva then pushed down over Gale's cock taking in more than half his length. She felt him grow and throb as she hummed her song. His hand squeezed her breast while she pleasured him, his other hand touching her head.

Tav felt Gale grow big in her mouth as his pleasure built.

"My love," she heard Gale whisper close to her ear. "You're doing amazing things but I need to taste you too."

Tav stood up while Gale moved pillows around. She took off her clothes, laying them to the side. Gale laid on his back with a mischievous smile. She kneeled on either side of his head, leaning over him. She hadn't ceased her song but she'd have to rebuild the rhythm she'd been working on.

Gale pulled her against his mouth, his fingers already rubbing her clit. She felt her arousal building from his work. A warm tingling where her skin met his.

Tav used her mouth up and down his shaft again, humming around him. Gale slid his fingers into her, his tongue lapping at her sex.

With steadily increasing speed her head bobbed up and down. Her free hand massage just under his balls. Tav pushed the head of his cock deeper into her throat a few times in time with the notes which made it feel amazing. She heard Gale moan as she squeezed him with his throat, his hand grabbing her ass.

She felt Gale's pleasure building against her lips. He was pulling her clit into his mouth and she felt she wasn't far behind him. He used his hand to move her hips and she realized he wanted her to ride his face. Tav rolled her hips, arching her back. Gale's tongue wiggled against her clit and it sent her over the edge. She tried to maintain rhythm, but her orgasm crashed through her like waves during a storm. Having Gale in her mouth, pushed deep in her throat only made it more intense. He held her in place so he could continue to push her pleasure. Tav was too euphoric to do much but nurse on Gale's cock as his warm cum poured into her.

Tav's body trembled as she released Gale from her lips, aware a penis can be tender after. He licked between her legs as she laid exhausted on top of him, her head against his thigh.

When Gale was satisfied, Tav felt a last gentle kiss. "Come rest your head with me, my love."

Gale wiped his face off on a towel before discarding it. She lay next to him, her head on his chest while his arm held her close.

"The "bard throat trick", huh?" Gale said with a cheeky smile. "Never thought I'd mark that off the bucket list."

"I hope it's a long list," Tav said wistfully.

"Remember what Elminster said about fate breaking on the rocks of will," Gale said. His words were quiet, serious. "If any will were sturdy enough and full of enough love to defy what seems inevitable it would be your will, my love."

Gale softly hummed Tav's song, his fingers running over her skin. His eyes were closed, his head moving side to side at the funny bits.Tav watched him from his shoulder, wanting to remember his face, his smell, his voice. She was hopelessly in love and desperate to save Gale, but for now, she had these moments of quiet and comfort.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 gale #bg3 gale x tav #gale x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 romance #fanfic #bg3 fanfic #spicy content #this man is in my brain now he's in yours #bard throat trick to drain out the soul and make it yours #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep

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simlit · 8 months

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All odd numbers for Kyrie!😁

What memory would your OC rather just forget?

I think he'd wish he could forget that he was given to the church as a baby. Not necessarily because he wants to reunite or even know his birth parents, he doesn't. But it's a constant reminder that he, quite literally, doesn't belong there. That he was given away as if he was a tool or some material good. It's just a lot to carry around with you.

What is your OC's fatal flaw? Are they aware of this flaw?

Fear of failure. Something that has only recently made itself evident to him (and me lol). In a way, he's a people pleaser. He doesn't want to disappoint those around him. He fears the ripple of consequences that might stem from his domino falling first, and doesn't want to be the person responsible for a larger collapse, so he sort of keeps to his duty as a cog, despite how he might not align with the objective.

How far is your OC willing to go to get what they want?

I would say... not very. He's lazy, certainly, but he's also sheltered, incredibly inexperienced, and lacks the means to get what he wants through pure brute strength, power or smarts. That being said, if the obstacle is something he can overcome, I think he'd be more inclined to actually try.

What's one way your OC has changed since you first came up with them?

I made Kyrie almost as a blank slate so that I could easily adapt him to the circumstances of the story. Because CotS is both interactive and filled with characters I didn't create, he had to be someone who could blend well with all types of people, and not have many "hardstops" so to speak, morally or otherwise. But along the way I've tried to make someone who is an "open template" entertaining, and I think Kyrie's almost lackadaisical unbothered humor emerged from all of ~that~. I didn't go in planning him to be such a huge fucking troll, but I'm glad he has his "thing". In a story with so many strong personalities, it would have been easy to get overtaken by the other cast members.

Do you have a specific lyric or quote which you associate with your OC?

"That's abominable." Because it's just so damn funny.

What is your OC's weapon of choice? Have they ever actually used it?

Yes, he has one, and no he doesn't use it. And it's been called into question multiple times in the story, and I still don't think a damn one of them knows the actual truth yet lmao. It's funnier that way. It wouldn't save him from getting murdered, obviously. It would probably just get him murdered faster.

If you met your OC, would the two of you get along?

Absolutely. If he wasn't so hot. Because honestly every time I look at him I just want to punch him in the face so 100% the conversation would go no where and I'd get arrested.

Does your OC have a faceclaim? If so, who?

No he doesn't.

What is the worst thing you have put your OC through story-wise?

I kind of... took his sister. Mean Jade go grr. I have this terrible habit of killing off loving sisters. I leave the bad ones though. Elsera says hi.

How does your OC behave when enraged?

He's one of those awful people who just gets stoic and civil when angry. As Tay said while having the absolute pleasure of being on the other end of it: that's probably worse. He's not been confronted with a situation that would make him exceptionally angry though, i.e. nothing life or death, so maybe that would change.

Does your OC have any illnesses or disorders? How do they handle it?

He doesn't.

What emotion is the hardest for your OC to process? How about express?

I think it would be loss. Which I guess is a generic answer, since it's pretty typical of human nature not to handle loss well. But I think when you have so very little in your life that is truly meaningful, then you're grasping at straws and have nothing to distract you from your grief. I think in the story currently, he's in a constant state of bracing. Trying to remain outwardly hopeful even though his body is already starting to reject the premise that things will turn out well, and that putting so much mental strength into denying it, degrades his focus in other facets of his life. Outside of the few moments where he's truly and genuinely amused, I do feel he's starting to lose himself under the pressure he would have, otherwise, been able to stand against without hesitation. I can't really imagine him in a place where he has to accept that loss is real, and I don't know how or if he can cope with it when it does.

What is your favorite thing about your OC?

I love what a huge fuckin TROLL he is. Sorry, it's so entertaining to me. It's one of my main reasons for preferring him with ~certain~ members of the cast. Mostly the ones who are ripe for riling up ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

#jade babbles #ec: kyrie

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0ranjo · 4 months

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Prelude: Generation

'I can feel my hands, only when I am aware that I hold myself'

Yet I feel nothing when wrap my arms around myself to hold on to what's left of me, what's left of my Life.

The Highest in the Room.

The horned deity watched over the clouds, its pupils scanning the island, back and forth through the urban jungle and floral skyscrapers, adorned with greenery that lined pathways, seemingly endless in nature.

"My dear Giant, what are you looking at... who are you looking for...?" questioned the Dragon behind him, peaking with curiosity. "Do we live in this invisible realm for we too fear what the almighty has created in the realm of the living?" it replied, "Are these mortals doomed to the trials and tribunals of such suffering? Such that is Life?"

The winged deity glanced over despondently, shaking its head in disapproval to its fellow deity, its silver highlights flowing in the air as if they were underwater, rippling through the glistening rays of Sun that shone upon them.

"You kind-hearted creature, with great disheartened opinions gushing out of your wretched mouth. Can't you see the beauty of it all? You of all things that lived, seem Alien to the concept of Life."

It wrapped its arm around the Giant's shoulder, with reassuring pats that seem to awaken the Thinker from its trance. It pointed a claw towards a man walking along the Han River, the figure in a daze as he sways between the lamp posts through his route.

"Fate can be cruel, to even the most simple of Man. Yet the strongest still live to fight, and what for, in the inevitable fate of Death?"

"Because Life is a gift... an opportunity to be great?" The Giant answered while shrugging its shoulders turning his gaze towards the Dragon. "Ah, though you may be a deity, your soul still retains the rationality of Man. I mean, you are the first of all, the beginning of Life..."

A loud splash catches the attention of the pair, and they look back towards the figure... that is no longer on the pavement, but rather like a plastic drum off a ship in a storm, floating down the Han River, drifting away into the night.

"Life is filled with limitless possibilities, and Death is only a means to value Life." The Dragon continued, still gazing upon the mosaic that presents itself to them.

"Fate is the destiny of Man, that once altered, will shift the course of his journey, and in turn, his end." The Dragon concludes, before swooping down from the clouds towards the man in the river.

The Man in the River.

A man lies on the sidewalk along the Han River, groaning and writhing on the concrete pavement, as he awakens from a slumber and gathers himself. He fiddles through his pockets, and pulls out a red wallet.

He opens the wallet, eyes glistening in the brewing tempest, gentle in touch to a polaroid he removes from the pouch.

"I'm sorry... but don't forgive me..."

"Yunjin..."

His cheek, sleek from the tears pouring down, or from the rain streaming from the sky. The man already drenched even before the shower began, stands up from his slouch, and stares into the abyss ahead of him.

"I wish for what is forbidden to me."

To be continued.

#unforgiven #yunjin #light angst

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toungeandteeth · 6 months

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11/28/2023

I wonder how capable I ever was about keeping her out of my mind. I long for something I don't know if it exists. If I indulge, I create the mindscape of a reality altered by a longing. Desire is a cruel act.

Even a moment glance at her face, and again, I'm smitten all over again, my chest doing a curl, my mind swirling the silent pond into ripples once again. The echoing ghost of the itch in my fingers. Ringing, like the sound her voice had, like the laugh from the other side of the room, I always managed to carve out, like the frying of my nerves, knowing I was not acting logically. That I was a fumbling, pathetic mess of a person, and trying to hold it inside; but it was liquid, it was vicious and without reason, spilling out of my arms and sloshing into crevasses. I haven't deleted the playlist I had, with Her in the veins of each lyric. I know Passing Papers like a tattoo I'll never get etched out of me yet. Songs I listened to while fixated on the meaning behind souls, songs I used as an explanation. I don't know if this longing will ever become something different. I don't know if this longing was ever meant to be anything different. How could I gently give it back to the universe after I coped with believing the connection was a sure sign of it?

Perhaps I am still positioned with the thought that she could be in a less-than-perfect situation, a world giving her hands to feed upon rotten fruit and act as if it's satiating. How could She, be with arms not perfect for her frame, that clank as they walk and pinch her skin and blister her knees. How could she claim love for something not For her soul? The universe is playing sick tricks by letting the hands of the unwashed come hold her skin and force my eyes with acknowledgment to be focused. And how selfish can I act like that's a slot I deserve, like my brittle hands are perfect for it as if my skin isn't aware of how she's far, far too beautiful for me? She will always be too beautiful for me. I have her image ingrained in my skull and a longing so entire.

I crave the thoughts in her mind like they're the nectar of dreams and will satiate even the sickest, coldest of days.

Devotion. What a word that runs inside my skin, neurons revolving around the world, skipping to the tips of my body and wrapping around into my being.

There have been months since the moments we've had and upcoming upon years without properly acknowledging each other's existence. I still have her text messages available on my phone, and her Instagram is blocked but not unfounded. I know how I could reach out to hear her voice with a touch. Is this a sign of my being? I've gone days, weeks, and months without thinking of her. And the entirety of the hand wrap still controls the direction I can face at times of weakness, and I open that playlist again, where I wonder how her face looks again, and I let the pain sting just a bit more.

And now, my playlists surround a completely different life. The songs that have her name written within the words are gathering dust. I know the way bony fingers feel in mine. Thighs of different types under my hands. Smiles blossomed from me, me taking a hook and catching the sides of them and making them smile harder. Hands I use to pin chests against the walls, grab the collars of shirts, curl onto the belt loops, hold a body. To hold a body. To grasp onto a mind so gently, softly, entirely, the care within similarity that there's love within the spaces we radiate inside. I'm expanding my mind with each day and letting the crust the past put onto me slowly peel itself off. I don't want to wonder how she's doing; maybe I must.

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #writing #love poetry #love poem #longing #limerence #limerance #toothache #writing blog #poets on tumblr #original poem #poem #poetry #spilled poetry

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numbskul · 7 months

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You and the Pyro had been fast friends ever since you had arrived to work for Mann co. Their excitable attitude, clear body language, and evident likes and dislikes made it easy to communicate, despite your inability to understand their mumbles. It was this friendship that made you feel guilty for what you had been experiencing recently.

When you fell asleep at night, you could always tell when you were about to slip into a lucid dream. The way your body tingled and buzzed as you drifted off was a telltale sign. Watching the backs of your eyes yet again, you felt a sense of excitement. It had been a while since you had properly dreamt, and you were thrilled at the prospect of it finally happening again.

As the static faded into a familiar scene, you wondered what caused you to start in the base's shower room. Sure, you had awkward encounters in there before, but nothing too fresh in your memory to constitute a dream as far as you were aware. Even odder, nobody else was in there except for you and the sound of water running from the third shower stall. As the water splashed onto the floor, you felt your other senses start to fade in. The sound echoed around you as you felt hot moisture cling to your skin, beads of water forming and rolling down.

"Wait, the third stall?" You spoke to yourself, your words coming out garbled as though you had said them underwater. That always sucked about dreams, speaking became difficult and sometimes downright impossible. Still, you had a point. There were 9 stalls, and one of them was never used, ever. Each shower had been assigned to a mercenary, as to not mix up personal shower items or cause the petty squabbles some of them were known for. Recalling what you knew, the first one belonged to Scout, the second one to Soldier, then the third to... Pyro."But that doesn't make any sense!" You garbled, forgetting again the unpleasant feeling that dreams often connect to speaking. You then thought about how Pyro never takes off their suit, always staying inside the safety of the asbestos lining, always breathing through their mask. That fact combined with Pyro's abhorrence for water created a curiosity that seemed almost unshakeable. You slowly and steadily made your way to the third shower, cautious and slow, almost worried about what you might find.

As you reached their stall, you couldn't help but pause outside the curtain. Surely this was some sort of major privacy violation. "Just because everybody is curious about Pyro's appearance doesn't mean they don't deserve the basic decency to get dressed before-". But before you could finish that thought, the curtain moved, revealing a beautifully disfigured body. Their arms covered in artificial ripples, the wrinkled skin cascading into little waves before descending into a faded white where the scarring met the remaining flesh. Their whole body seemed to follow this pattern, a myriad of scars in a mesmerizing pattern that captured your attention completely.

Standing there with your mouth agape, totally entranced as you beheld the form in front of you, they shyly moved their arms to cover their breasts. Bashfully turning their head to the side, their face burst out in a bright red tinge. "Pyro-" you whispered, your voice coming out crystal clear. "You're beautiful."

Your vision suddenly started to fade into static as you felt someone start to shake you. "Wait!" Your voice abruptly unable to leave your throat, you tried to scream. "I'm not done yet! Please!" Barely a whisper choked out as you came to in your bed. Alone.

#tf2 #pyro #pyro x reader #kinda?#described nudity #dream fuckery #angst #because im an angsty boy #afab pyro because trans rights #or smthn idk #numbskul writes

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a-tiny-voice-against-war-crimes · 4 months

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I made this blog because I'm tired of living my day to day ordinary first-world-European-country life and whilst meanwhile, elsewhere on the globe literal genocides are happening.

I am a normalish young human living in the UK and personally, I find it pretty fucked up that as I'm eating a pastry I bought from Gregg's and thinking about summer work experience placements, fellow humans are living and dying in horrific conditions just because they were unlucky enough to be born who and where and when they were. What I find considerably more fucked up is how little I feel I can do about this.

I think we're all familiar with that sense of total helplessness we feel when we hear about some dictator starting yet another war on the news, or watch yet another documentary on people currently dying in camps in countries with tightly controlled borders and speech and little transparency in their statistics or governance. Of course, that sense of despair is one of the most powerful weapons of people in power and we can change the course of events through organizing and rallying together in protests and resistance movements etc, but what do you do if you can't strike or protest? If you can't join in a boycott or skip school?

This is a blog created for those people. Realistically, unless I miraculously rack up a bajillion followers overnight like a hellsite Kardashian, my voice and opinions and the influence I have is absolutely tiny in the grand scheme of things. But nevertheless, every voice matters. No matter how small or irrelevant, one of the ways EVERYONE can have some miniscule ripple effect in the vastness of modern day politics and what will be tomorrow's history is by speaking up.

Heck, even if you can't post stuff voicing your opinions out of fear of your family or social circle seeing or the risk of losing your job (and you can't create another account or blog for this) you can still view, like, reblog and share stuff to spread awareness and influence an algorithm- likes, reblogs, followers and any actions possible for traction for this blog are greatly appreciated, by the way.

Think about it- how much of your knowledge of the world, awareness of sociopolitical events, opinions, beliefs and et cetera did you learn from social media?

That is the power of using your voice, no matter how small.

This blog will for now be mostly focused on the war crimes in Gaza and Palestinian occupation, but was of course made with some other current atrocities in mind (*cough cough Russian invasion of Ukraine cough cough Uyghur genocide in Xinjiang in China*) which I'll probably be touching on more as time goes on and whenever the situation in Gaza is over (hopefully, with a total ceasfire soon).

#free palestine #gaza genocide #gaza #stand with ukraine #ukraine #xinjiang #uyghurs #genocide #war crimes #war in ukraine #war in israel #human rights #activism #speak up

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eclipsecrowned · 6 months

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🚩 // @everlived

We're getting down to my capital c Controversial opinions now. Y'all have driven me to this. And I am not sorry for what I'm about to say.

I see the resurgence of darkfic and romances as a sign we need to back off the moral puritanism, actually. If it's to the point that fandoms populated by teenagers are openly writing content that I don't think a kid their age should be aware of, then we as the standard-setters of fandom have failed.

Darkfic and romance is not endemic of some great moral failing or anti-SJ movement. Historically, it's a way to cope with sexuality in a way that does not court shame or judgment.

You know that bit about how all our grandmas had those bodice ripper Harlequins full of Dukes or Sheikhs with rippling abs who abduct our fair lady protagonist and prove Hull's hypothesis correct? You know how our grandmas also didn't have the right to divorce their husbands unless they wanted to be social pariahs? Same maxim here. When sexuality is demonized and narrowed to a very specific, thin margin of acceptability, dark content arises as 'have your cake and eat it too.'

Oh, the protagonist is having sex, but she's not a slut or anything, it's being foisted upon her by an older, more attractive man who will eventually make it right by falling in love with her. It's a way to approach sexuality and its exploration in a way that gets a pass from the moral guardians. At this point, fandom is the moral guardian over fic, and the more we push back against sexuality or say only certain kinds of relationships can be explored without some thirty year old ignoring her kids to post about anime online screaming that you're some kind of monstrous pervert, the more we drive people towards this.

And like obviously if a fic is harmful via misinformation, poor representation, being marketed at an inappropriate age group, or used to fetishmine, by all means call it out. But don't think that everyone who writes questionable content is some kind of monster because you defined everyone who writes anything past a 13k slowburn coffee shop AU as such. You created this beast. Starve it out. Let people be weirdos on the internet in healthy ways and I promise this will taper off.

And even if it doesn't, block and move the fuck on.

#everlived #out of stories

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7-wonders · 2 years

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A sneak peek of something new I'm working on!

///

It had taken Dream of the Endless a long, long time to fully gain control over his realm. At least two millennia had been spent learning how to be the master of the Dreaming, how to properly shoulder the burden that came with hosting the subconscious of every living, thinking being whenever they closed their eyes to sleep. Now, such a long time later that he's lost count of how old he truly is, the Dreaming has long been well and truly his.

Of course, when the realm one rules is technically a part of the ruler themselves, all of the control and experience in the universe doesn't prevent certain aspects of his power from shining through. In particular, Morpheus still finds it incredibly easy to slip up and feel each and every dreamer as they enter and leave his realm.

One could almost liken the experience to a rock being tossed into a lake. Most dreamers were merely pebbles, barely causing a ripple on the surface of the Dreaming when they fell asleep. Morpheus felt them, to be sure, but only if he were truly lacking focus or looking for it. He had learned enough now to be able to almost completely tune these small presences out.

Other dreamers, those who were particularly imaginative or strong in their dreaming abilities, created more of a disturbance on this surface. There were not nearly as many of them compared to the rest of the population of dreamers; a small-enough amount that Morpheus almost always sensed them when they entered his realm. More like a boulder being hefted into a lake and leaving a small wave rather than a ripple.

He's in his throne room, researching a particularly annoying phenomenon of dreams mutating and changing without his knowledge or consent, when he feels it. How could he not feel it? If strong dreamers are boulders, this particular dreamer must be a cliffside falling into the Dreaming's surface and creating a tsunami in their wake. It takes his breath away and causes him to pause what he's doing as he finds himself completely taken aback at the sensation.

It's been quite a while since a dreamer merely entering the Dreaming had this much of an effect on the Lord of Dreams, which is likely why it's such a shock to his physical being. When he finally rids himself of the odd feeling caused by this dreamer and is prepared to return to his research, he's stopped by the heavy throne room doors opening and Lucienne entering with a harried look on her face.

"My Lord," Lucienne says, sounding as though she ran here from the library. She probably did. "There's a dreamer—"

"Yes, I could feel them enter the Dreaming. A rather strong lucid dreamer, yes?"

"No, my Lord. A daydreamer."

The book Morpheus is reading from snaps shut harshly, and he diverts his full attention to the librarian in front of him. "That was a mere daydreamer?"

Daydreamers are not at all uncommon. After all, everyone daydreams. But rarely are they able to enter the Dreaming while they're awake, and even more rare is it for them to make such an impact when they do. In fact, Morpheus can count on one hand the number of times this has happened under his rule.

When Lucienne nods, Morpheus presses further. "You are sure of this?"

She holds out a book that, until now, Morpheus had not been aware she was carrying with her. "The daydreamer's book practically threw itself off the shelf."

"Thank you, Lucienne." Morpheus holds out his hands and allows her to place the large volume, evidence of just how prolific of a dreamer this is, within his grasp. "I will investigate this."

As she nods and excuses herself, Matthew flies down from one of the many high eaves of the throne room to rest on the Back of Morpheus's throne. "I don't understand the big deal with a daydreamer being in the Dreaming."

"The 'big deal,' Matthew, is that daydreamers do not have the power to enter the Dreaming while they are doing said daydreaming." He pauses. "Except for this one, it seems."

"Are they, uh, gonna be a problem? Like Rose was at first?"

Morpheus purses his lips at this, Matthew making a point that he had not previously thought of. "I hope not. In the meantime, I must ask you to go to the Waking and find this daydreamer for me."

Matthew's glassy black eyes focus in on the name embossed on the front of the book that Morpheus holds. His head jerks up and down, the raven version of a nod. Following the threads of dreamers that being Dream of the Endless's raven makes him privy to, Matthew takes flight and goes up, up, up, until he flies straight into the galaxy ceiling, out of the Dreaming and into the Waking.

Morpheus continues to watch where the raven disappeared long after he took his leave of the throne room, thinking about the current situation. He looks like a Renaissance statue of a god in thought, his regal chin tucked on top of an alabaster hand as he muses about this new daydreamer. It appears the Fates will soon be receiving another offering, if what he's thinking is true.

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

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