#perhaps even moving images in gif form!

[contentloadingandstuff]

Jealousy Bits - Zhongli, Diluc & Alhaitham x Fem!Reader

A/N: It's my second time writing for Fem!Reader, so C&C is more than welcome! CW: Alhaitham might be a little OOC.

Zhongli

Jealousy is a foreign concept for Zhongli. For eons his mind was preoccupied with more important matters than petty insecurity. Centuries passed, and never once have you given him a reason to worry. But as time passed and Zhongli, along with you, stepped down from his position, he started connecting more with his human side. He experienced many things he never got the chance to as a god - including a certain kind of longing.

"I'm leaving, dear!" You look over the contents of your purse, making sure everything necessary is contained within. Your hand moves to rest on the doorknob, but you pick up the sound of steady footsteps. 

Turning back towards the living room, you see Zhongli standing in the corridor, his eyes resting on you. "If I may ask, where are you going today?" 

"I managed to convince Ganyu to have a proper meal at Wanmin Restaurant. Poor thing needs to quit starving herself, don't you think?"

Smiling slightly, he nods. "Yes, that would be good for her health. Ever since the… choking incident, Ganyu has never been the same."

You both chuckle. Zhongli crosses his arms over his chest. 

"I shouldn't keep her waiting. You know how anxious she tends to be." Once again, you turn towards the door. 

Something sparks in his mind. The mental image of you, laughing and smiling with somebody else while he is alone evokes a specific feeling, an itch that urges him to keep you in place, here, with him. Zhongli wants to stop you, and he stretches out his arm, but thinks better of it. You turn the key in the door, and the sensation comes back. He feels the need to act. 

Zhongli clears his throat. "I… I am having tea when you return. If you'd care to join me."

When your gaze meets his amber eyes, he seems unsure, and looks down at the floor in unusual embarrassment. His arm drops back down to his side. You approach him with a smirk, resting your hand on his chest. 

"Aw, is someone jealous?" A slight blush forms on his face at your gentle touch. 

"Perhaps." He answers after a moment. 

You slide your hand into his, and squeeze it gently. It's warm and bigger than yours, his gloves adding a pleasant texture. Zhongli looks back at you when you cup his cheek with your other hand. 

"It's okay. We'll take a nice bath when I return, have tea, and then… we'll see where the evening leads us." You plant a featherlite kiss on his lips, and send him a smile before turning to leave. 

Before you can open the door, he speaks again. 

"I love you, Y/N."

"I love you as well, Morax."

Diluc

Diluc cares only for those strangers he absolutely must, but he keeps his loved ones close. Although he keeps a steady facade suggesting otherwise, he gets possessive at times - just as anybody else. Cool as he is, Diluc won’t stop himself from acting upon his feelings with his characteristic decisiveness.

His eyes skim over the paper in his hand. Thirty barrels, twenty-seven million Mora - everything seems in order. He grabs the pen and scribbles his signature. The man thanks him and leaves shortly. Diluc sighs and rubs his temple.

It was supposed to be your night out. Just some casual drinks, grape juice for him and some light alcohol for you to finish off the work week. Despite explicitly stating that he is off-work, the recent delivery of Harra Fruit extract decided to arrive at that exact moment. With who the other party was, letting one of the staff handle him would be bad for his image. Begrudgingly, Diluc welcomed the merchant and finished the deal. Although he lost an hour or so, the evening was still salvageable. 

The noble turns back from the loading bay towards the Angel’s Share back door, and pushes it open. His eyes see the familiar scene of many men and women enjoying their evening to the tune of a mediocre ballad, sounding out from the small stage. The notes are fine, but the occasional mishap doesn’t go unheard by his sensitive ears. Despite that, the tavern goers seem to pay no attention, possibly too drunk to notice. Still, if his memory serves him right, the last performer had far more lyrical talent. 

He looks around the tables Venti frequents, but doesn’t find him there. Where did this rascal go-

“Y/N, do you perhaps wield the power of Anemo? Because your beauty blew me away!”

His eyes turn sharply towards the counter. The cyan-clad bard, his back leaning against the wood, smiles in satisfaction. In front of Diluc sees you, blushing slightly and giggling. 

“That was… wow. Horrible.” You smirk. “But I’m sure you can do better.”

Diluc watches as Venti looks away, smiling, his mind rushing with ideas. He suddenly looks back at you, a wide smile on his lips. Barbatos clears his throat theatrically. 

“It’s handy I have my library card on me, because I am totally checking you out!”

Both of you laugh. Diluc furrows his brows, and his heart starts beating faster. How can such crude humor make you laugh? You never laugh as hard at his jokes…

A small blush creeps up his face as he looks on, suddenly hyper-aware of his thoughts. He brushes the shame off. He is right - this evening was supposed to be “Diluc and Y/N talking and drinking” and not “Venti and Y/N talking and drinking while Diluc handles business”. There is no way the drunkard Archon steals your attention tonight.

“Two rounds, please! One for me, and one for the prettiest Windblume in this locale!” Venti says, raising two fingers.

Charles nods and reaches for the cups, but Diluc glares at him and shakes his head slightly. The bartender makes his understanding known and turns to a different client. The aristocrat looks around the tab record and quickly finds a small piece of paper, labeled with the bard’s name. Nine rounds… That would equal seven thousand three hundred Mora. Drawing another note, he writes down the numbers and places the paper inside a mug. He leaves the serving area and circles to approach you and Venti from the side. 

The bard, too deep in his flirty conversation, fails to notice his approach. With a fairly loud sound, Diluc puts down the mug right next to Venti. His aqua eyes dart straight towards the tycoon. 

“Oh! Hello master Diluc! How is the evening going?” The innocent tone that reaches Diluc’s ears annoys him even further. 

“You ordered two drinks, I believe.” He walks in front of Venti, arms now crossed over his chest. “You will get them upon paying for the nine so far. If you don’t, I will ask you to leave. You’ve drunk enough.”

The mug is picked up, and Venti draws the paper. Upon looking at the sum, he smirks and puts the utensil down. “Why, of course! Let me get my coin pouch really quick.”

After patting his sides and drawing the leather container with a small Aha!, Venti peeks inside, and his confident smile turns into an awkward one. He chuckles. 

“It seems that I forgot most of my Mora tonight, how unfortunate, truly! Can I just… add it to my account?” Venti looks at Diluc with big, puppy eyes. The man scuffs, unmoved.

“The one counting three hundred thousand Mora? Sure. If you pay it up now, that is. Do you have the money?”

The bard smiles nervously. “Ehe~” He turns to you. ‘My oh my! Look how late it is! Sleep is important, miss Y/N, and so I will rest now. Goodnight~”

Venti evacuates with practiced ease, Diluc’s eyes burning a hole in the back of his head. You turn to look at Diluc. 

“Does he really drink this much…?” You ask, feeling a bit awkward after witnessing their interaction.

Your lover shrugs, and sits down on Venti’s place. He turns to you, a confident smile gracing his lips. 

“Well, I’m here. What about your other two wishes?”

You smile and chuckle at his unexpected goofiness, covering your mouth with your hand to stop yourself from laughing out loud. Diluc swears it’s the sweetest sound he’s ever heard from you.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham holds most strangers in a neutral regard. Their squabbles, bold flirts and personal drama doesn't interest him, and as such rarely anything can get him possessive and needy. Someone flirts with you? You can handle things on your own. Spending less time with him? No matter, you have things to get done as well. Talking to another man? If he is nothing more than a coworker or a friend, it's none of his business. Despite this solid and logical reasoning, Alhaitham assumed he would be jealous at some point - just in case. Yet he expected a human to be the cause, and not… an animal.

A cat, to be precise. 

It all started when, coming home from shopping, the two of you were approached by a stray. Alhaitham recalls the unfortunate creature resembled a wet, rotten rag more than an actual feline. It started meowing at you while rubbing its filthy face on your leg. Instead of repulsion, however, you felt pity for the animal. After a good five minutes of pressure and puppy eyes, Alhaitham agreed to take the cat in. On the condition that you would take responsibility and care for it, of course. 

After being taken to Amurta veterinarians, who cleaned, bandaged and prescribed the right medication to the poor animal, it started resembling an actual cat. When the researchers confirmed that the cat would be fine, it was given a name, one that stuck in his mind ever since. 

Alibaba. 

Or Ali for short. 

It was just as he expected, and true to what you promised. You fed the cat, cleaned his litter box, gave him medicine, played with and groomed him. Over time, Alibaba returned to his former glory. His fur grew back, now long and lustrous. It was mostly white, with light brown patches near his paws, tail, ears and mouth, perfectly complimenting his deep blue eyes. Alibaba soon got plump and lazy, which you found greatly adorable. He was an obedient cat with a loud purr and a gentleman's meow that stole more and more of your heart each time. 

Alhaitham didn't pay much attention to your new pet. That is, he didn't until you started calling the cat names. It's normal, he knows that. That’s just what humans do with pets. But something about you calling Ali a “handsome boy” and a “gentleman” doesn't sit right with him. He gets those compliments on occasion, but Alibaba gets it daily for just existing… 

He couldn't believe he was getting jealous over an animal. Just when he pushed the thought away, the creature already noticed his feelings. It started running away from Alhaitham, and moving away when he tried to pet it. Ali didn't even eat the food and treats he provided, but dined on yours just fine. The cat didn't restrain itself from looking smugly at Alhaitham while being praised and showered in affection by you, seemingly mocking your boyfriend. 

The whole situation was silly, and he knew it. It was only right for him to resolve his jealousy in an equally amusing way. 

One day, after returning from work, you were greeted by Alibaba, just as per usual. You went to put your things down on the table, the cat following your actions by jumping up on the furniture. It meowed, rubbing its face against your hand. You smile. 

"Who's a handsome boy?" Alibaba meows in response. "That's right! You are!" 

You move to the fridge, and grab a bag of cat food. The animal rubs its body all over your shins as you pour the food. After leaving Ali, absolutely inhaling the contents of his bowl, you go to the bedroom. You open the door and freeze. 

On the bed, resting on his side, is the shirtless Alhaitham. The sight of his chiseled chest fills your eyes, and a small blush of surprise heats up your cheeks. 

For a solid minute or so, you stand there, unsure of how to react to this unusual situation. Alhaitham looks at you with a slight smug. 

"Am I a handsome boy as well?" 

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x fem reader #genshin x fem reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin impact zhongli #zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x fem reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli fluff #genshin impact diluc #diluc #diluc x reader #diluc x fem reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #diluc fluff #diluc ragnvindr #genshin impact alhaitham #alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x fem reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n

[kinkyliterotica]

(This image belong to Sony and I do not claim ownership of it)

(Part 2)

Venom x OC Period Sex Smut

Summary: Shannon unexpectedly starts her period, Venom has a creative solution.

Warnings: Period sex, blood play, oral sex, rough sex, rough penetration

———

Shannon, Eddie, and Venom had formed a much more intimate bond since their first night together. The initial lust was strong, and Shannon’s chemistry with Venom was substantial. There were moments when Eddie felt like he’d been sidelined by his own Symbiote.

He tried to remember that he fronted most of the time, Venom had little time and space to be free. Perhaps he owed Venom this.

That evening, Eddie invited Shannon over to cook. He was not an excellent chef, but he was eager to try. Anne had done most of the cooking during their relationship, and he was ready to prove himself as a partner.

Eddie was pan frying sausage while Venom mixed pancake batter. Shannon rang the doorbell, and Venom dropped the bowl on the counter, and extended himself to answer the door.

“Hello Darling.” Venom greeted her.

Shannon moved smoothly past Venom, “Hey, sorry I have to use the restroom. Give me a sec.”

Venom was caught off guard. Eddie had to remind him to close and lock the door. Venom’s wide white eyes watched Shannon as she headed to the bathroom. Eddie continued cooking, shaking the pan to flip the sausages.

“There is something wrong, can’t you feel it?” Venom asked Eddie, his head floating next to him.

Eddie dismissed him, “What’re you talking about? She just had to use the bathroom.”

“Listen to me Eddie, I smell blood.” Venom ground out.

That got Eddie’s attention. He killed the heat on the pan, and turned his attention towards Shannon. He rushed down the hall and knocked on the door.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” Eddie asked. Venom pressed his head against the door to listen.

Shannon sighed, “Yes, I’m fine.”

Eddie didn’t want to drop this issue, he pressed on, “Venom said he smelled blood.”

Shannon was irritated, “Could I get a little privacy please?”

Eddie held his tongue, he didn’t want to piss her off, but he needed to know what was going on.

“Just tell me, are you hurt? Should I be worried?” Eddie’s voice was laced with concern.

Suddenly Shannon pulled open the door, her underwear and pants were around her ankles. On the crotch of the pants there was a puddle of red. She had fresh red blood dripping down her legs. Her brows were drawn together in frustration.

Shannon’s voice was frantic, “I started my fucking period 3 days early, I don’t have any spare clothes, and I’m bleeding everywhere!”

Eddie couldn’t hold back his laugh. He hunched forward and gripped his stomach. The laughter burst from him.

“Oh shit,” Eddie exclaimed, “I thought it was something serious.”

Shannon’s mouth formed a dangerous looking frown.

“This is serious for me Eddie.” She said between clenched teeth, “It’s humiliating. I’m a grown woman.”

Eddie realized his reaction was less than ideal, “Sorry, sorry. Let me run down to the store and grab you some stuff alright? I did it for Annie all the time. You can borrow some of my clothes.”

Before Shannon could respond, Venom consumed him. Enveloping his form, and growing around Eddie.

“What a waste. Why not let me solve your problem?” Venom purred.

His tongue lashed out, flicking through the air. Saliva dripped from it and landed on the vinyl floor beneath them.

Shannon’s brows hit the ceiling. She had not expected this kind of reaction. She stumbled back, her hand grabbing the sink for support.

“What–what do you mean, Venom?” Her voice, a moment ago so full of anger, had faded down to a meek whimper.

Venom’s enormous black arms wrapped around her, forcing her down on top of the toilet. Her bare ass shivered against the cold porcelain. Her pants and underwear were still around her ankles.

“Sit back, relaaaaaaax…” Venom’s voice was equal parts hypnotic and eerie.

His hands were so large they easily closed around her biceps. His huge body was crammed between the wall and the toilet. He got onto his knees, his head hovered right above her bleeding cunt.

Her flow had just started, the blood was fresh, and quickly pooling inside of her. It leaked out of her hole just a bit.

Venom smiled, his teeth bared, enormous and terrifying. The tip of his tongue traced his lips like he was about to devour his favorite meal. His wide white eyes looked up at Shannon’s face for a moment. There was lust there, so much lust it frightened her.

All at once his tongue dove into her. The blood inside of her made a noticeable SQUELCH. It didn’t stop Venom from digging the fat muscle futher inside. He was moaning, growling. He withdrew for just a moment, her blood coated his tongue. He swallowed it, sighing contentedly.

“What a treat!” Venom said, “I want more.”

Before Shannon could respond, his tongue was back inside of her. Exploring her folds, and lapping up all of the blood. She couldn’t hold back her own moans. Her voice was foreign to her, full of meekness and hesitation.

It did feel good. Extremely good. But all the same it was strange, this was not what she’d been expecting. She knew that Venom had eaten people before, but she didn’t know about his affinity for blood drinking. It was entirely new to her, she’d never had a guy fetishize something like that. She wondered for a moment how Eddie felt about this, if he was enjoying himself, or just allowing Venom to indulge himself. Either way, it felt too good for her to risk stopping it. Venom was fronting, so she had to trust him.

Venom’s grip on her tightened, he was truly ravenous. The blood continued to flow from her hole, and Venom drank it like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted. Shannon writhed and moaned as his tongue played with her cunt. The tip traced along her folds, leaving no part untouched.

Shannon was shivering, her body unable to resist but struggling to find comfort or purchase on the seat.

“The taste of fresh blood,” Venom’s voice was deep, “There is nothing like it. Eddie does not want to scare you, but you’re not scared, are you?”

Shannon cried out, “No, no, please, keep going!”

“Yes, yes, this is all mine. There is no shame, I want all of it.”

Venom lifted her up, holding her hips and ass in his enormous hands. He buried his face in her cunt. She grasped his head for support, nearly hitting the wall. She could barely register the sensation of his tongue lapping at her pussy. He was moving so fast, she was afraid his teeth would puncture her. She wrapped her arms around his head, trying to keep herself upright.

Venom’s pace was torturous. The sounds he made were primal and deep. Eddie was in there somewhere, but now, there was only Venom.

Venom pulled his tongue out of her. She let out a held breath, tears coming to her eyes. She was shivering, her heart racing beneath her breast.

“I want more. I’ll have to speed things along.”

Venom’s hands ran up her ass, along her back, until he held her upright entirely with his own hands. He slid her down onto the floor carefully, making sure she didn’t hit the door or the counter. When Shannon was about to get her bearings, Venom’s tentacles slithered out. His tentacles wrapped around his midsection, lifting her from the ground once again. Just enough that she could be flipped over onto her knees. Her hands came up to support herself, but one of Venom’s hands pushed her down.

Her ass was prone in the air, her cheek pressed against the fuzzy rug on the floor. Her arms were tucked under her form, no space to move, she was trapped. Before fear could overcome her, Venom used one of his thick long tentacles to prepare her cunt for him. It pressed in and out of her, stretching further, going deeper. The friction on the inside of her walls was maddening, she ground against him. The tentacle suddenly swelled, pushing the limits of what her cunt could take.

“Venom, please don’t break me!” She begged.

Venom purred, the appendage stretching her did not let up, but he did slow the pace down. He gently entered, and pulled out, dragging out the sensation. His form fell over her like a shadow. His mouth was by her ear.

“I will not break you, but I will make you bleed. Again and again for me.” His voice was a promise.

The tentacle slid out of her entrance, and was quickly replaced with the tip of his cock. The head was so much larger from the back, she knew that in this position she would be the most vulnerable. She tried to take a deep breath, and steady herself. But when his dark head pressed into her heat, she whimpered.

It hurt. It hurt so much. His girth was inhuman. There was nothing that could soften this. She knew by now that enduring was the best she could do until her walls adjusted. Her cunt would learn to take him eventually.

Venom let out a dark laugh. The sound rumbled in his chest, and vibrated against her back. She wondered what had caused him to laugh, but in a moment she felt it. When his tip hit her cervix, he had caused another wave of fresh blood to flow. She was bleeding on in, because of him. It lubricated her tight hole, and provided some relief.

Venom teased, “You’re coating my cock with your sweet red juices. Such a filthy Human.”

His hips drove into her, forcing her tits to drag across the small bathroom rug. Her pelvis strained from the effort of Venom slamming into her. Venom was primal now. Growing and drooling and using all of his strength to hurt her, just enough to make her bleed once again for him.

She wondered if Venom could keep this up all night.

#monster smut #x reader #dom/sub #oc smut #breeding toy #monster fucker #eddie x venom #venom smut #venom x reader #we are venom #venom symbiote #venom x OC #eddie brock #period sex #bloodplay

[starshipsofstarlord]

Piece of Cake

Luke Hemmings x reader x Calum Hood

Summary Luke doesn’t think you like him, but oh does Calum know you do, and so he decides to interfere for both of your sakes

warnings = MDNI! includes smut, use of weed, blowjob, facial, slight angst, clitoral stimulation, exhibitionism

The last thing that you had ever expected whilst opening for 5sos during their post covid tour was for anything romantic or sexual to happen between you and one of the five members, of course that hadn't stopped you from dreaming lustful images, but never had you thought the opportunity would arise. That was until one evening when you were sat on the tour bus, Michael and Ashton had ventured off to spend time with their significant others, leaving you with the bassist and lead singer. You were sat on your bed, Luke and Calum were in the living space, you were rolling a blunt, licking the paper so that the contents would remain inside without quarrel without spilling out.

They were talking about music and other nonsense, whilse you were planning to get high, and you were rather glad that you hadn't even lit the blunt or taken the puff from it when you became the topic of their converse. Perhaps it was rude to listen in on their private conversation, especially when they had gifted you with a ride along on their tour to expand your own fan base, but it was impossible to help yourself. You were curious, that was all, and very intrigued.

“So about y/n?” There wasn’t much to the question that Calum was asking Luke, you could only imagine that the blond’s head perked up in as much confusion as your own was. “Are you going to make a move man, every time she’s up on that stage or she simply walks through the room you’re drooling more than your dog does.” Your head tilted in pivoted hope, however you weren’t going to make assumptions without a word being directly said to you… right? That would be absurd, especially considering within the spotlight that your career granted it was easy for rumours to be misinterpreted or spread throughout the media. However, this was the source that you were listening in on, and subjectively you chewed your own bottom lip as you awaited the response of the man whom was undergoing a friendly interrogation.

A long and drawn out sigh elevated from Luke’s lungs as he leant his curl rooted hair back, burning his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling lights that were built into the tour bus. “It’s not that I don’t want to man,” at least that was a comforting statement to feed your awaiting nerves, “but I feel like I have to remain professional. Not to mention, she probably isn’t interested in me anyways, have you seen how well her and Ash get along? If she were to want one of us, it definitely wouldn’t be me…” There was a seasoning of self sympathy behind his subjective words, of which formed a crack within your heart from hearing them. His undirected accusations were a harm to his own mind, inflicting his own doubts, and you could see how he could perceive your friendship with his band mate that way.

You and Ashton got along insanely well, he was the first one that calmed your nerves the first time that you were scheduled to perform before them. But the two of you were just friends and that was all. The entire conversation that you were intruding on with your hearing distracted you from the task that you were currently attempting to perform, and thus the joint that you had just glued together with the stick of your saliva escaped your grip as you fumbled and tumbled out of your bunk and onto the floor between the set of stacked beds. “Shit.” The curse spewed from your mouth as you instinctively reacted to the accidental slip of your fingers, and then your heart froze. You hadn’t wanted to make a noise, however now it was too late, and all you could do was hope that Calum and Luke had been oblivious to the sound of your voice.

“Y/n?” Calum cautiously enquired on your presence, the sound of his foot falls nearing closer and closer to your solitary destination, and instinctively you held your breath, not wanting to give your accidental agenda away to the bassist or the lead singer that had been discussing you and your status quo with each member. Softly the doll grey curtain of your bunk was pulled aside to reveal your embarrassed expression, Calum inquisitively staring down at you from the height of which he stood. A rosey warmth bruised the high points of your face as there was no doubt that your deposited hearing had been noticed, and so had the joint that you had configured. Cal plucked it up off the carpeted ground as he smirked at the circumstances that you were under, and thus with his sweet brown eyes he convinced you to crawl out of your bed, his large and tanned hand guiding you from the placement of your lower back.

He lead you into the entrance living space of the bus, where Luke was nervously planted, rubbing his painted fingernails gently along his bottom lip and diffusing his instinct to chew on them. With his cobalt eyes he sent harmless daggers towards you, his long legs taking up a length of space on the floor, the opposing limb folded over the knee of his other, his ankle tapping the air as he awaited for the tension to break. “Oh Luke, calm down mate, y/n overheard everything but don’t worry, I could see when she slipped down from her bed ho wet her pretty pink panties were. Isn’t that right sweetie?” Cal squeezed your ass which was facing him, the flirtatious notion making you jump in the oversized shirt you wore; he was embarrassing you in front of Luke, but the other man seemed shy to the appeal that was ongoing before his eyes. “Come on girl, tell Lukey that it was all for him. Tell him that he made you all wet, you could even show him how soaking your pussy is underneath that layer of cotton.”

A whine slithered out from your submissive throat, you felt vulnerable and the butt of the joke that Calum was telling, without the intention of a pun, but admittedly you were loving every second of it. But it wasn’t just Luke that had caused a sweet and slick river to flow between your legs, which was strange considering that he was the one that you liked. The way in which Calum degraded you before him though had you riled up, needy and desperate for someone to touch you, and it didn’t matter which one of them did it. “Y/n…” Luke spoke your name so delicately, there being a a quiet innocence behind his tone. Immediately your head snapped up to ogle at the man, an alert and doe eyed detriment reflecting in your hungry expression. You were all too focused on the blond so that you were late to notice how Cal veered closer to your sexually appealing form, his hand slipping upwards on the back of your thigh, rising up to the centre of all of your desires over the thin cotton that protected your vulnerability from seething eyes that intended to pry at your most intimate parts.

He continued his sly yet indiscreet movements until the pads of his thick fingers were callously prompting across your lightly clothed bundle of nerves, causing staggered breaths from leaving your mouth. It was difficult to focus on only the pleasurable feeling that Calum was making you feel, as Luke’s wide eyes were ogling at your glowing form, his pupils flickering from between your blushing face and where Calum was attending to tease the both of you. He was provoking his band mate, luring him into finally make a move, however he had yet to grow the courage to do so. Luke was in a conflict with his own mind and what his pants desired, he chewed stagnantly on his lip awaiting for the impulse to do something kick in. “Aw Y/N, did you hear him say your name sweetie?” The bassist teased you, withdrawing his hand from toying with you which made you whine from the extraction. He leant his mouth right by your ear, and whispered into it, “wouldn’t it sound better if he moaned it?” And you believed it, and you were even wetter from simply imagining it.

It was as though Calum were hypnotising you, and without your own will to do so, your feet fell in footsteps closer to where Luke was seated, and you succumbed to the cushions of your knees, staring up at the man that you lusted after as Calum stood as your shadow and brushed his fingers through your hair. The notion was a gentle one, until he gave it a harsh tug which hitched your throat back so that you were looking into his dark eyes. “I’ve made you feel good Y/N/N, now why don’t you do the same for our friend?” He was pushing you, convincing you to pleasure the god like adonis whose knees were resting against your collarbones, and you were easily sold. And thus you unbuckled his belt and loosened the tightness until you could slip the leather material out from the loops, feeding the teeth of his flyer to your hands. Without any haste you pulled the zip down, and tugged the tight denim from his upper legs, only to discover that he had opted to go commando that morning.

And by gosh you were enamoured with the sight that was in your face; he was erect and wantonly weeping from his tip for attention, and you weren’t going to deny his famine. And thus you engulfed the head of Luke’s large and veined cock into your mouth, greedily humming from the warmth of skin that filled your mouth. “Oh fuck Y/N!” Luke gasped, his mouth gaping open as he tried to ground his pleasure, and he tousled your hair in his hand. “Fuck, your mouth feels so good.” Each word that he spoke only gaged you to attempt to bring more of his length into your mouth, choking from your efforts. And you only choked more as you felt another pressure again on the back of your head, enforcing you to take more down your throat even though your survival instincts tried to reject the intrusion. “Such a good girl, making our Luke feel good. And you can always make him feel good now you know how he feels about you Y/N/N. This cock is yours to suck, this big fat cock that’s making your eyes water.”

Luke moaned simultaneously alongside you from Calum’s dirty words, the sound of your gagging and Luke’s light and vocalised moans being the distinct sound that filled the room in the tour bus. There was a tight feeling that was pulling from the insides of Luke’s balls, he was getting extremely close and he shocked the both of you when you unexpectedly pulled your lips away from his cock to get air, as ropes and ropes of his white seed decorated your face, the warmth of the liquid bringing you a sense of fulfilment and gratified euphoria. For a moment it felt like it was only you and Luke, taking turns to exhale heavily as you came to grips that this wasn’t just a dream, it was a reality. A hot, dirty and sweaty reality. However everything hit you when Calum released his hand from your head, his voice filling your ears intermittently. “Looking good Y/N. And my work here is done…’ Calum joked, metaphorically dusting off his hands from the gruel that he had to cause to finally bring both you an Luke together.

He slowly vacated the room with little words more to say, leaving you and Luke in your own comforting isolation. “So…?” Luke laughed with the emission from his lungs, stroking your hair away from his cum that still covered your face. “So…” He repeated back to you, a content and calm smile endorsing his features. “Do you want to maybe be my girlfriend? I’ve liked you for a long time, and I never had the guts to say something until, well, this.” You reciprocated his smile, tentatively nodding and forgetting all about the joint that you had been rolling, maybe you wouldn’t need it to feel at peace tonight, because Calum with his sexual interference had helped you come to it. “Okay, we can discuss the details of our first date after we get cleaned up. Fancy a shower?” He teased yet endorsed your interest, and soon the pair of you were off to the small and confined bathroom to get ‘cleaned up’ as boyfriend and girlfriend.

#luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings x reader #calum hood smut #calum hood x reader #5sos smut #luke hemming imagines #luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings one shot #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you #calum hood x y/n #calum hood imagine #calum hood one shot #5sos fanfic #5sos x reader #5sos imagine #5sos one shot

[honeybeefae]

Forgotten Ties (Eris Vanserra x Reader)

Summary// Years trying to forget him. Years forming a new life, a new home, to try and rebuild what he had so carelessly thrown away. Only for it to all come crumbling down with a single meeting.

(Okay I totally wrote this all at once. It’s just an idea I had, I’d love to write more parts if y’all want! It’s a bit different from what I usually write so I hope you like it!❤️)

Part Two / Part Three / Part Four

Playlist for Story

WARNINGS: Slight angst

You lived with your daughter Helena in the Rainbow district of Velaris, having moved here shortly after giving birth thanks to a friend who opened up her home to you.

Being from the Autumn Court you had never known the beauty of the Night Court, especially Velaris, and even now you were still blown away.

When you had moved here you offered to create some gowns for your friend to display, to try and gather some money for rent and your child, and were surprised at how fast they were snatched up. It was so successful that you eventually had the money to open up your own store.

The shop you owned was small, squished between a pottery shop and an artists den. You were a seamstress just as your father was. You loved the intricate patterns you could create with your fingertips, how the different fabrics mixed and felt. It was something you had grown up doing and had also seen you through the trials under the mountain.

The nights were tireless, the days long as you took care of your daughter while also running your business. However you never let Helena see your worries. She was your entire world, the light of your life, and you did not want her to fuss over you.

She was a spitting image of her father with her auburn locks and amber eyes. You never regretted having Helena but you wish you hadn’t been so naive when you had met that man, hadn’t believed his lies and sweet words.

He still haunted your dreams to this day. The nightmares were of him leaving you the day you were all freed, passing you by as if you didn’t exist. The dreams were of the nights you spent together, the promises you had made and the comfort of his arms.

You kept a napkin next to your bedside table so you could wipe away the tears before Helena ran into your room in the mornings.

“Mama! Mama! Can I have this one? Pleaseeee?” She whined, breaking you from your thoughts as you turned to the window full of dolls.

The two of you were strolling through the shops on your way home. It had been a rare day off and you took her out to go see the ships sailing away with a picnic by the sea.

“Helena, don’t you already have that one?” You smiled lovingly, brushing the hair out of her eyes as she pouted. “Your entire room is filled to the top with dolls.”

“But not this one!” She argued, crossing her arms.

Your shoulders shook with a chuckle as you shook your head, placing a hand on her back and ushering her forward.

“Perhaps another time, love, maybe we can-“ You stopped in the middle of your sentence when you looked down the street, seeing someone you had never thought you would have to see again.

He was the same as you remembered, though he seemed to have more frown lines. People were whispering as he walked beside the High Lord and Lady, his hands behind his back as he took in the city.

“Mama?” Helena tugged on your arm, a worried look on her face. You took a deep breath and gathered yourself together, bending down to Helena’s height.

“I’m alright, darling. I just need you to hold mama’s hand tight, okay? We need to get home now.” You tried to say softly though even you could hear the urgency in your tone.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, observant as always. You kissed her cheek and stood up straight, grabbing her hand.

“Nothing, I just forgot that I left the stove on! I need to go turn it off.” You lied through your teeth, not waiting to see if she bought it as you started speed-walking through the crowd.

You had to go the way the trio was coming in order to get home so you did your best to lay low, weaving through the crowd like a snake. The sign of your shop started to peek through and just as you made into the clearing, you heard your name.

“Y/N!” Feyre called, waving her arm. You winced, closing your eyes. “Y/N! I need a favor from you, from Nesta!”

If you pretended you didn’t hear her you could be home within minutes. However, you knew she knew you had heard her. You pushed Helena behind your skirts and turned to your High Lady, bowing.

“What can I help you with, my lady?” You asked, giving her a small smile.

Feyre rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Please, there is no need to be so formal. Nesta was wanting a dress tailored for her for Solstice.”

“I can certainly do that…though it is short notice.” You point out, smirking. Feyre nodded and apologized on behalf of her sister but you assured it was fine. Nesta had become somewhat of a friend to you as you were apparently the only person who could get her outfits “right.”

“I appreciate it, Y/N.” She smiled, noticing Helena peering out behind you. “And how has this little princess been?”

“She’s been good. We just-“ You were cut off by Rhysand’s sudden appearance, his violet eyes warm as he gazed at Feyre. However you didn’t have time to dwell over the love between them as their visitor also appeared, his eyes widening when they connected with yours.

Tension was heavy in the air as you felt your heart stop. You felt warm and cold at the same time, your stomach twisted in so many knots that you were afraid you would vomit up your lunch. It felt like time stood still until he whispered, “Y/N?”

You took a step back, your heart breaking at hearing your name off his lips. It was too much. And Helena…

She was looking up at you innocently, red curls framing her face perfectly. You looked down at her, your lips parted, before back up at him.

“Do you know her, Eris?” Rhysand asked, his tone confused as he sensed something between the two of you.

However Eris was paying him no mind nor you. His gaze was entirely fixated on your daughter who was now clinging to your dress. You could see him studying her, working through dates in his mind, and watched as his face changed from confusion to shock.

“Goodbye.” You croaked, barely giving your High Lord and Lady a glance as you picked up Helena and tore through the crowds at breakneck speed. She was holding onto you tightly, mouthing of questions about the man with the red hair, but you couldn’t hear her over the roaring of your ears.

Eris stood there, watching you disappear with a child…a daughter.

His daughter.

#acotar #eris vanserra #acomaf #acowar #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fic #eris x you #eris vanserra acotar #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x reader ACOTAR #eris imagine #eris fic #acotar fics #acotar fic

[dimepdf]

𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐉𝐎𝐇𝐍𝐍𝐘𝐒 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋. + 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍 '𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐓' 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘

masterlist. / taglist. / any request?

synopsis. since the moment that Ghost laid eyes on you, he has sworn to be smitten. too bad you are Soap's girl.

pairing. simon “ghost” riley x reader , johnny “soap” mactavish x reader

genre and warnings. +18 nsfw under the cut. minors dni, pwp, porn with plot, smut, hard pinning, semi public sex, sub!ghost, power kink, degradation kink, mommy issues, voice kink, humiliation, i know nothing about COD just here for my masked meow meow | — feedback is always welcomed & don't forget to reblog 🤍

Simon was no saint: sure, he credited himself for being a morally "sometimes" correct person with pretty decent values. 

That alone should have been enough to build a platform on top of the truly irrational thoughts that would swirl in his thick skull and had only gotten worse since the day he joined the forces. 

He had blamed his rough upbringing for a lot of things since the day he was born, but being as touched deprived as he was now was definitely one of the things he could check at the top of his list as the cause of his crippling mommy issues, and boy was your appearance only adding fuel to the fire.

Being deployed was something he had just gotten used to, the feeling of never really settling down and always being on guard, and being used to having eyes at the back of his head.

But there was one thing Simon could never quite figure out, something that seemed to come naturally to his charming pal Johnny, and that was women.

When Soap had first hinted to Ghost about him being in a two-year relationship so suddenly out of the blue a few months before you even managed to show your face. It was like playing a perplexing game of Where's Waldo to piece together the mystery woman about whom his partner was making risque jokes in their conversations.

At first, Simon just wanted to throw in the towel and was entirely convinced that you were just a figment of the soldier's imagination, not that he would blame him.

Simon understood that the battlefield is a pretty lonely place and wouldn't judge his friend for losing a couple of marbles along the way, but if Johnny was losing some of his rockers, he wouldn’t prefer the delusion to continue on for too long.

Before he could step in and pull the plug, your official appearance had almost knocked the wind from his chest like a brick straight to the heart. 

Throughout the period that you were just a pieced-together image from the shitty descriptive words Johnny had used to describe you, Simon almost stumbled the moment he had laid eyes on you. 

Perhaps it was because he hadn't had the opportunity to fully look at a woman in the way he was able to look at you, but words couldn't describe how your features had him struggling to tear his gaze away.

Luckily, his broadening and usually quiet demeanor were enough to cover up his pure awkwardness during your first introduction. 

Struggling to form a normal question or even his name, Johnny introduces him with a dismissive pat on the shoulder before moving on and rounding up the rest of the team.

Since this, your appearance has been like a plague to him, like an infection burning under his skin, blurring the line between what is wrong and what is right.

If anything, you seemed to want to spread the infection even further from the way you would always try to joke with him, how you were always the only one to get handsy with him when talking, how you would always stand up for him when Soap would do his usual teasing, how your voice would always turn soft when you spoke to him, and despite all of that, you had still been in a loving relationship with Johnny, and yet Simon just couldn't shake you from his head.

You had him so smitten, like a stray puppy just looking for some sort of attention, and your mere existence was the bone of his dreams (literally and figuratively). 

You had him staying up late at night with his makeshift mattress and a bundle of blankets to form the most comfortable cot he could build out in the middle of some country he had forgotten the name of.

Night had fallen, and the team decided it would be best to set up camp not far from the target's resting place in a nearby cleared-out lot. 

Most people would have been thrilled to get a few extra hours of sleep to unwind after all the violence, but for Simon, those quiet moments were the fucking worst, and his erection, straining against his pants, begging for any ounce of attention as it pulsed against his briefs, only proved his point later on. 

As everyone parted ways, not too far but not too close, Simon thought that he had spread out just enough away from everyone, alone in an empty room, to spread out and attempt to find his comfort against the rough hardwood flooring, but the moment he had heard the shuffle next door, his body was as still as a board.

Apparently, Simon wasn’t the only one looking for some alone time for the night.

The noises coming from the other side of the room that you and Johnny had occupied left Simon feeling like he was standing right there next to you as you two went at it.

He could only guess that you were pressed against the wall and being lifted into some sort of position that had you whimpering out Johnny's name and moaning out how big he felt inside of you and whimpering about how good he felt.

Simon would remember how he sat against the wall, listening to every moan and plea of pleasure that came from your mouth. 

Simon knew that he was in dangerous territory the moment his fingers crept past the waistband of his pants and dipped into his underwear to relieve the growing problem tenting in his pants.

It was wrong to imagine fucking your best friend's fucking hot girlfriend, but in his defense, you just sounded so sweet, begging for dick. 

Simon was just convinced it was like you wanted him to hear those sweet little whines.

His hips bucked in at the brush of his cold fingers wrapping around his hilt. 

The sensation, paired with the sound of your hiccuping moans, sent a jolt of pleasure through his senses. 

All he could hear was you as his hand fell in the humiliating action of jerking himself off.

His breath caught in his throat as his head slouched against the wall with a small thump, his heart skipping a beat at the noise but quickly ignored it as your sounds didn't seem to stop, reminding him that you were probably too busy getting your brains fucked out to listen to every little sound. 

If anything, just the sheer realization sparked Simon to want to be louder—the thought of wanting to push that bar as far as he possibly could to the point where you would catch him in the act of pleasuring himself from the sound of your voice alone.

The thought of you punishing him for doing something so wrong—for touching himself without your permission—is terrifyingly arousing.

At the image, he let out a gasp, his mouth open, his eyes squeezed shut, and his hand quickened as he fisted his hands tighter at the scenarios of you controlling him, leaving him strung onto every command. 

As your pleas became less and less audible, the bliss grew stronger and stronger.

Simon wanted to get familiar with the sound, with the noise of your orgasm creeping just around the corner.

As he could only make do with his hand, he imagined the feeling of being inside of you, the warmth of your walls, and as he brought himself closer to his own edge, the thick ribbons of cum shot from him with a grunt that followed just after yours.

The post-nut clarity left him catching his breath, yanking his mess-covered hand out of the front of his pants, and staring at everything that had unfolded with a hard, annoyed grunt.

God how he wished that he could have you.

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#[ ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ★ — t.wrks. ] #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty smut #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon riley #simon riley smut #soap x reader #john soap mactavish #ghost cod #ghost #john mactavish #cod x reader #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #mw2 x reader #soap #soap cod #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #johnny mactavish x reader

[fortune-fool02]

A False Belief

Las Plagas Luis Serra x female reader

Summary: Despite what Luis believed, he was not purged of the infection. And all that borrowed time had reached its limit. 

Warning: Spoilers for RE 4 Remake. Light angst. Blood. Rough-kissing. Plagas Luis being dark. Emotional manipulation. Potential yandere-themes? Oral-pleasure, reader receiving. 

This came to my mind and I don’t know why but I need to see this precious man become a monster. I haven’t seen any content even hinting to Luis being dark so I decided to do it myself. 

Please enjoy.

One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. One, two, three, in. One, two, three, out. This sequence repeated in her head slowly, methodically, as she inhaled and exhaled to its instruction, trying to calm her rushing nerves. A coldness coiled along her bones, tightening her veins like springs, making everything feel so ridged and tense. 

The only sound that could be heard was the metal clinking of that lighter, flickering and spinning between his fingers with ease. A flame sparking every now and again before being snuffed out and returning to the spinning rotation. Fingers that held such a loving touch before, a soothing warmth that seemed to steal away pain and worries, filling their space with a comfort. A silent promise that no harm would come to her. Now, those fingers were cold, hard and hollow. Their mere touch enough to make her skin crawl and try to recoil back, only to earn a tight grip, keeping her in place. 

Wherever Leon was, [Name] prayed both he and Ashley were safe, that they were able to find some form of cure for themselves. For Luis. It was something none of them expected, not even the Spaniard himself. Having believed to have purged himself of the Las Plagas parasite, Luis had offered to aid them to find Ashley and rid themselves of the parasite. Though, that plan turned South once he began to act strangely. The signs were there but they were too busy with other priorities. Perhaps if they noticed it sooner, they could have helped him? 

That image was still burned into her mind. That small, brief moment of fear in Luis’ eyes when the blood spilled past his lips and he looked at her, splinters of crimson red piercing his smoke grey eyes. Those thin, black veins breaking across his face. In that moment, the Luis she knew died, and this..., this thing was what remained in place. 

“Oh querida.” He called out, pushing himself up from his spot on the worn couch, moving over to her lightly trembling form on the floor, an almost pitiful look on his face as his red eyes glanced at the bear trap latched onto her leg. The blood had started to dry and coagulate on her leg, the small puddle that had gathered beneath staining the wooden flooring. Luis knelt in front of her, one arm propped onto his knee to hold his chin up as he looked at her. Amusement swirled in those eyes and it sickened her. 

“What am I going to do with you, eh?” He hummed, his thumb and finger gently grabbing her chin but she pulled away, leaning away from his touch entirely. Something flashed in those eyes and a sharp, stinging pain blossomed in her cheek, her head snapping to the side. “Don’t you dare-!” His own words were cut off as his voice softened, his expression twisting into something apologetic as he gently stroked her stinging cheek. 

“I’m sorry, [Name]. Lo lamento.” Those words fell from his lips so softly that he almost seemed genuine. As much as she wanted to believe that, hold onto that hope that her Luis was still in there somewhere, fighting to try and get out. 

“No, you’re not.” She spoke quietly, her eyes refusing to meet his own. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him like this. With a roll of his eyes, that mask slipped off entirely, leaving a bored expression in its place. 

“It’s not my fault you thought it was a funny idea to run away, [Name].” He pulled a cigarette from his packet and lit it, the smoke seeping out from his lips towards her. [Name] held her breath, trying to fight to urge to cough. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of that. 

“You could’ve unlocked the damn bear-trap.” The snap wasn’t intentional but the throbbing pain that pulsed in her leg was hard to ignore. His hand gripped her chin again, this time tighter, his nail digging into the skin on her chin, breaking it lightly and drawing little specks of blood. 

“And let you run away again? Don’t be so silly.” His face was so close to hers, the scent of nicotine and his cologne filling her nose along with the underlying smell of blood. His lips brushed against hers, the smoke seeping into her lips and forcing her to pull away and cough, a dark smirk lifting his lips as he watched. Taking another deep inhale of his cigarette, Luis grabbed her hair tightly and forced his lips upon hers, pushing every bit of smoke from his mouth into hers. 

The sharp, dryness spread all inside her mouth, scratching down her throat with rugged pricks, ripping hard coughs that burned slightly. A chuckle rumbled deep inside his chest at this, that smirk ever present. Pulling his hand back, he brought it up to his lips, his tongue lightly dragging along his thumb, lapping up the little specks of blood on his nail, a pleased moan spilling his lips as delight crossed his face. 

“Oh Dios, you tasted delicious, my love.” He all but purred, a shiver running down his spine. [Name] tore her eyes away from him, trying to ignore the flutter in her chest at such words. The way that delighted look sparked something in her that she didn’t want. His tongue slowly moved along his lips, savouring her taste before he finished the cigarette and slowly pushed the end of it down on her leg, his eyes pinning her in place as he did so. 

A pained cry left her lips, her leg trying to pull up and away from the searing pain piercing her leg. Burnt skin filling the air and Luis sighed at the smell, a dreamy smile on his face. 

“I love that smell, querida. I love you. Every bit of you.” [Name] yanked her leg back and tried to kick at Luis’ face, the first strike landing its mark, a pained grunt heard from Luis. She reared her leg back again to kick once more only for him to catch her by the ankle, blood trickling down his nose as the broken feature began to heal itself, the forming bruise vanishing before it had a chance to even fully develop. His eyes darkened as he pulled her leg up and over his shoulder, 

“Now that wasn’t nice of you.” He tutted, his grip on her leg tight as he moved himself between her legs, his eyes roaming her body from the new angle. A spark igniting in his eyes as his hands moved down towards her belt, unbuckling it quickly. 

“No, Luis! No, please! I’m sorry!” Panic had set in, rushing through her system as she squirmed under his grip. As much as she loved Luis, she couldn’t let herself be touched by him like this. 

“Don’t fret, cariño. I’m not going to do anything like that. Yet.” It took a few moments before he slid off her pants, letting them bundle at the bottom of the trapped leg, his gaze turning back to her as he placed her leg back over his shoulder again. His lips lightly brushing up along her skin, a soft hum sending goosebumps along her flesh. Warmth shimmered in her body, threatening to spill down into her gut at his careful movement. Little kisses were placed on her thigh, his teeth finding a spot and biting down, suckling at the tender flesh. 

Soft gasps escaped her, despite her best efforts to keep them back. The light scratchy sensation of his stubble only added to the feeling, sending a tingling warmth through her body, arousal threatening to seep in. 

“L-Luis...” His name spilled past along with another gasps as he pulled back and moved along her thigh more, leaving more little marks and nips in his wake. 

“See? I can make you feel good, [Name].” His voice was lower, huskier, almost a hushed, teasing whisper as she felt him move closer and closer to her core. Her eyes locked on the ceiling, unable to look down at him, knowing doing so wouldn’t help in anyway. “Say you’re mine~” 

The feeling of her underwear slowly sliding down her thighs brought a shiver raking down her spine, a light chill brushing past her followed by the warm feeling of his tongue gently moving along her core, pulling a moan from her. She could hear Luis moan as he pushed himself closer to her, his tongue exploring slowly, savouring every second of her, as his hands on her thighs slowly tightened their grip. 

“Who else can make you feel this good?” He purred between breaths, each little movement of his tongue spending a shard of arousal up through her, her body wanting more, wanting him. “Surely not that Yaqui. No, he couldn’t come close to how good I can make you feel, [Name]~” His lips pressed against her clit, kissing it lightly then slowly circled his tongue around it, making her arch her back and moan in pleasure. Her thighs shook lightly, pressing together against the sides of Luis’ head, earning a pleased groan from the man as he pulled his tongue back. 

“Good girl~” 

#luis sera #luis serra #luis sera x reader #luis serra x reader #luis serra navarro #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil 4 remake #yandere luis sera #yandere luis serra #infected luis serra #infected luis sera #plaga luis sera #plaga luis serra #yandere luis serra x reader #yandere luis sera x reader #yandere resident evil

[onpurposeilovehimonpurpose]

Touching Tuesday - pt2 - Strong Henry

After King James states that he's read their emails, as intrusive and terrible as that must feel, Henry doesn't recoil at the knowledge that his grandfather read the things he said to Alex. Instead, he continues to be proud and strong and the whole time, Phillip is watching them. Perhaps he realizes that by reading them, there is no way that the king can deny his feelings for Alex, and hopes that he won't ask that. And the smirk they share as they check in with one another says so much more than words could. Also, Henry moves his thumb just barely, soothingly over Alex's finger, it's just a tiny movement, but the gesture makes me swoon.

The looks on their faces after the king acknowledges their love is genuine, even if they don't need the man's validation; they're trying so hard to hold back their happiness because they know they're just beginning the battle with him. Henry is so strong to do this in front of a man who hurt him and demanded his desires stay hidden. Their hands grip one another tightly, supporting each other the way they both need at that moment.

Watching Henry's movements and Alex's with their free hands. It shows their initial reactions to the King telling Henry that his responsibility is not to his heart, but to his country. Alex's reaction is so much smaller in comparison to Henry's, but it's those fingers of his, moving just a bit, as they tend to do whenever he has feelings he's unsure of. Notice Alex swallowing around the lump that probably formed in his throat when he took in what the king was clearly wanting from Henry. An agreement to deny the accusations. Henry's posture slumps a little, and he walks his fingers across his knee and then curls that hand into a fist, holding off the emotions he feels at the unfair expectations the king is pushing on his shoulders. But their joined hands never waver, they don't move at all.

Henry reacting to the king's ridiculous idea that they need to maintain the royal image, considering doing otherwise is out of the question, that he's allowing himself to react with a defiant expression is something he never would've allowed before, he would've controlled it. But then, before he can say anything, Alex questions the king. It's so incredible to me that Alex does this, ignoring the fact that the man is king, he's just another man whose bullshit beliefs should be questioned. It's clear neither one of them at this point cares that he's a king. He's just a man who wants them to repress their feelings, and their relationship and is willing to ignore the love he sees in front of him.

Now I want to talk about the touching and what it means for Henry to no longer hold Alex's hand. This man has taken all the comfort and strength that became a little feedback loop between them, and he's like... "I'm going to stand up for myself on my own right now because Alex doesn't deserve to be considered a problem and neither do I." He says, "You think you can make me get in line by fear or guilt and expectations? You think that I'm only questioning this crap because of the man sitting beside me who I love, who you know I love, is here holding my hand through this? You're very wrong about that." And he goes back to his habit of trying to twirl his ring (even if he's not wearing it) and he situates himself so that he's not so stiff, so that he almost appears like he's relaxing and that this conversation is casual, and he's unbothered.

RED, WHITE & ROYAL BLUE (2023) dir. Matthew Lopez

Henry asks his question, and he is saying, "You don't want Alex to have a voice, but I will help him have one because I will ask the same damn thing and wait for you to give me the bullshit answer I know is coming because I've decided that I don't care what you say. I'm gonna sit back, and I'm gonna ask this question and watch you squirm as you realize that I am strong and I am my own person, and I deserve more than what you want me to have."

One of the most important / (imo needed) changes from the book to the movie was this scene right here, and I am glad that Matthew Lopez made sure to put this change in. While I do like that Catherine in the book came out of her grief to start to be there for her children, her children were younger in the book. Henry is older in the movie; he is nearing thirty years old, and though he is obviously hurt that his mother isn't around, he is also fully an adult, and I think that after all this time, HE needed to be the one to stand up for himself, for his love and his relationship. He needed to deal with this, and he had Alex's support and Bea's, but this was his moment. He gets to show who he has always been inside and gets the chance to be the man he has become because of knowing Alex and accepting his love and encouragement.

The look on his face as he asks that question tells how differently he values himself and his happiness than what we saw from him previously.

#RWRB #RWRB Movie #Red White and Royal Blue #FirstPrince #Alex X Henry #Moody Monday #Touching Tuesday #Alex Claremont-Diaz #Alexander Claremont-Diaz #Henry Fox #HRH Prince Henry #HRH Prince Henry George Edward James Hanover-Stuart Fox #Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor #My RWRB GIFS #Nicholas Galitzine #Taylor Zakhar Perez #Strong Henry

[justcallmefox89]

Eavesdropping Part II

X'aa'nath finally shows Gale how he feels

“It seems that we’ve lost our audience, my dear,” Astarion murmurs, running the brush through my hair one last time.

I shrug, trying to appear unbothered, as if I’m not hyperaware of Gale’s movements every time he is near me, as if seeing him smile is not the brightest part of my day.

What sentimental drivel.  How far I have fallen…

“Normally I don’t advocate for such things, but have you considered just talking to Gale?”

I glance over my shoulder at the vampire, confused.  “About what?”

“Oh by the hells,” Astarion sighs.  “Anything?  Everything?  Whatever it is that has the two of you so discombobulated?”

I hunch my shoulders, curling in on myself.  “Purification is our only goal.  After that Lae’zel and I will reunite with our kin.  The wizard is a distraction.”

“I’d find that a lot easier to believe if you didn’t look so miserable while you say it,” he says, languidly reclining back onto his bedroll.

“I am not… That is, I don’t…” I take a deep breath, picking at a loose thread on my trousers in an attempt to settle my nerves.  “I do not have experience in matters like this.  I don’t understand how to do… this.  Whatever this is.”

“Oh.”  Astarion sits up slowly.  “Oh dear.”

*Later that evening*

I’m beginning to think that Khou’zal left out some of the finer points of my education.

My earlier conversation with Astarion has at least filled in a few of the blanks concerning humans and their mating rituals, but it leaves me no closer to knowing what to do in regard to the wizard.  I grunt in frustration and scrub my hands over my face.

The first person to ever stir my blood is a human.  Of course it is.  Not a fellow gith, or a dragonborn, not even an elf.  But a human.  Between the tadpole and this Vlaakith must be testing me.

Without thinking I raise my head and search the camp for the reason for my inner turmoil. 

Gale stands outside his tent casting a spell, uniting tendrils of Weave together to form the likeness of a woman.  Cursing myself for my curiosity I creep closer to observe, wrinkling my nose in distaste when I recognize the subject of his spell.

“That’s that deity you wizards adore.  Mystra, right?”

Gale twitches and the image of the goddess fades away.  “Oh!  My, you startled me.  I… I was miles away.”

“Care to tell me why you were conjuring an image of the goddess?” I ask, eyeing him curiously.

“Just pondering what I lost.  Mystra commands all magic.  Salvation, if such a thing exists is hers to bestow or withhold.”

She doesn’t command my magic.

I conjure a miniature ball of lighting to reassure myself, silently thanking Vlaakith that I was chosen by the storm.  Something I’ve done more often since meeting Gale and learning of the limitations of wizards and their goddess.

“And yet, even now, more than I fear losing my own self and soul, I fear losing my command of her art,” Gale continues.  “Magic is… my life.  I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember.  There’s nothing like it.  It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled into one and given expression through the senses.  Is it the same for you?”

I tilt my head to one side, considering.  “The elements of the storm live within me.  I am magic.  While talented, you still had to be taught the command of magic.  It is like music.  While you need it written down, I can play it by ear.”

“Fair enough – though in the end we’re still playing the same composition.”

“One of us is playing it slightly better though,” I mumble.

“What’s that?” Gale asks, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Nothing!”

He smirks at me knowingly.  “Perhaps I can show you what I mean by reaching into the Weave together.”

“By all means.”

“Then follow my lead,” Gale mumurs, moving closer to me.

His proximity and the tone of his voice send a small thrill down my spine, and I have to force myself to focus on his next words.

Gale makes a series of hands gestures, Weave sparking between his fingertips, then nods to me.  “Now you.”

I glance over at him skeptically, then imitate the gestures with ease, the Weave obeying me as easily at it did Gale.  As familiar feeling – like a kind word and a kind touch at the same time – washes over me.  It’s warm and comfortable.

“Excellent!”  Gale nods in approval.  Now repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.

“Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao,” I whisper.  The sudden scent of rosewater fills my nostrils as a general sense of well-being settles over me.

“Very good,” the wizard murmurs.  “Now I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony.  As true as you can.”

My body shudders traitorously at Gale’s praise, and I close my eyes in an effort to force myself to concentrate on his instructions.  I focus on one of my most treasured memories; the first time Khou’zal and I journeyed to Tu’narath, the feelings that coursed through me as, for the very first time, I beheld that great city built on the bones of a fallen god.  The Weave courses through the night in bright waves, and I feel Mystra’s unmistakable presence all around us. 

“You did it!”  Gale laughs in delight.  "You’re channeling the Weave.  How does it feel?”

I smile over at him.  “Incredible.  Though of course, I could have managed it all by myself…”

“You’re hard to please aren’t you?” he teases playfully.

The Weave connects us.  Joins us together in a way far different from the ghaik’s tadpole.  The moment feels intimate.  I grasp onto the feeling, knowing it will be my only chance to feel this kind of closeness with Gale.  Belatedly I realize the Weave has slipped between my mental defenses, that Gale is now witness to all my innermost desires.  Lost in the sensual haze of the Weave I picture kissing Gale, gently at first, then with increasing passion as my hands explore the soft skin beneath his wizard’s robes.  I imagine kissing the delicate skin behind his ear, burying my hands in his hair and tugging his head back, biting and licking the exposed column of his throat and then further down onto his chest, marking him, tasting him, possessing him…

“I… I didn’t think…”

Quick gusts of embarrassment and trepidation that are not my own pull me out of my fantasy and I open my eyes to see Gale staring down at me, red-faced and wide eyed.  I quickly sever our connection before anymore of Gale’s emotions break through, cursing myself for my stupidity.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, turning to dart away, already planning to throw myself off nearest cliff and put an end to this madness the wizard has cursed me with.

“X’aa’nath.”  Gale catches my hand, tugging me closer to him, still flushed but slightly more composed.  “I wasn’t expecting… but it is a pleasant image to be sure.  Most pleasant, in fact.  Most welcome.”

I freeze the moment his skin touches mine, the small motion of his thumb gently stroking over my knuckles causing my heart to thump unsteadily in my chest.  The Weave slowly evaporates around us, and as it does so, the night feels suddenly cold and lonesome. 

“There it goes,” Gale whispers, still holding onto my hand.  “How easily things slip away from us, no matter how hard they were in the obtaining.  Stay with me a moment.  Please.”

I nod wordlessly, my eyes fixed on our interlocked hands.

As long as you will have me by your side, I’ll be here.

#astarion bg3 #gale bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 tav #gale #baldurs gate #shadowheart #wyll #baldurs gate gale #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #gale x reader #gale fanfic #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #bg3 oc #tav #bg3 tag #tav bg3 #my tav #baldurs gate tav #baulders gate 3 #gale romance #tav x gale #male tav #bg3 githyanki

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part Nine)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

Minutes later...

Danielle still lay sprawled across the king-size bed, draped in satin sheet covers, the gentle rhythmic snores confirming she hadn't stirred even since Cillian had left the room. She must have been exhausted, leaving Cillian free to explore his urges undetected. Even now, hours later, her breath rose and fell steadily, unaware of the turmoil raging below her slumbering form.

Cillian joined her in bed again, still carrying your scent on his skin. He moved closer to where his wife lay, barely perceptible in the dim moonlight streaming through the window. 

His mind was turmoil, filled with a mix of regret and guilt. His heart raced. Innocent tears trickled down his cheek, echoing his inner conflict. One part yearned for family and stability while the other half craved both, desire and lust for the unexpected and forbidden. 

Danielle murmured in her sleep, turning onto her side, throwing her arm around Cillian's chest instinctively.

He cautiously placed an arm around her waist, trying to find comfort in her embrace despite his wandering thoughts. However, deep down, he was troubled. His mind kept drifting back to the passionate encounter he shared earlier with you. Cillian couldn't help but compare your encounters—one full of desire and hunger, the other shrouded in guilt and secrecy. How did he end up in this situation? Why was he drawn to you?

Was it because you represented everything Danielle lacked, including, passion and freedom? Or perhaps it was simply the fact that you shared an intense chemistry and mutual understanding that went beyond mere carnal desires.

Cillian tossed and turned, struggling to find solace in the arms of his seemingly content wife. Danielle remained oblivious to the internal battle raging within her husband, her peaceful demeanor serving as a stark contrast to the chaos brewing beneath the surface.

Meanwhile, Cillian wrestled with his conscience, torn between loyalty to his wife and the burning desire for the woman who consumed his thoughts. He wondered why fate had brought them together under such tragic circumstances. What made him choose to succumb to temptation, knowing fully well that their encounters could lead to dire consequences?

The answer eluded him, haunting him with its absence. The intensity of his passionate rendezvous only served to fuel his growing obsession, further complicating matters between him and Danielle.

Cillian knew that, realistically, his marriage was over. It had been over for a long time, ever since they lost their first baby.  The pain of that loss pushed Danielle to seek comfort elsewhere after Cillian sought solace in his work. Unaware of the depth of Cillian’s feelings and during his absences when filming, she started frequenting bars and clubs in search of distractions. It was there that she crossed paths with a man named James, a charming entrepreneur who showered her with attention and helped her forget her sorrows temporarily. 

She soon fell pregnant again, but the child was not Cillian's and didn't take long for rumors to circulate among those close to them that Max wasn't actually his biological child. When confronted about this, neither confirmed nor denied the allegations. Instead, Cillian decided to treat and love Max as if he was his own and somehow, the couple managed to convince everyone in their circle, presenting themselves as a doting couple raising their new bundle of joy while, for many years, trying to fall pregnant again. 

Their relationship became a carefully orchestrated facade designed to hide the truth from friends and family and this, especially, made sense for both of their acting careers. 

They maintained this image publically, but privately they often argued about the state of their union. While Danielle felt secure in the structure provided by her marriage, she also grew tired of having a spouse more interested in his career than in her. Conversely, Cillian found little satisfaction in his domestic life, seeking solace outside his home. Their sexual routine began to lose steam, replaced instead by resentment and frustration. They rarely talked openly about these issues, suppressing them inside, building a pressure cooker waiting to explode.

Whilst, for the past eight years or more, Danielle had been faithful to her husband, Cillian had affairs on and off. Some lasted months and others were mere one-night stands, but none seemed significant until he started sleeping with you. 

Desire and infatuation had clouded his judgment, leading him into dangerous territory. With each meeting, he sank deeper into the quagmire of betrayal and adultery, his morals crumbling beneath the weight of his passion, and it was this passion which kept him awake until the early hours of the morning.

Unable to sleep, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead.

He couldn't ignore the profound impact you had on him. His life was spiralling out of control - he lied to everyone and every moment spent with you tormented him with guilt and shame. It was as if he had become addicted to something he once considered repulsive, losing all self-control in the process. Yet, he was unable to stop wanting you – needing you.

In moments of clarity, he vowed to put an end to this madness.

But as he rolled restlessly onto his side, he recalled your touch, the taste of your lips, the soft whimper you uttered when he entered you. All these thoughts invaded his consciousness like an unwelcome army taking residence in his brain. Each memory inflamed his body, making his groin throb with arousal. Every fiber of his being demanded release, yet he knew that succumbing to it would bring nothing but misery.

He also knew that, eventually, this had to end. There was no alternative and, with that in mind, he made a choice. He had to choose his family over you, regardless of how broken it was.

As hard as it might be, he owed it to Danielle and Max to try and salvage whatever remained of their fractured bond as, even though he wasn't Max's biological father, he loved him dearly. Thus, it was the right thing to do. It had to be done and it could not wait any longer. 

***

Hours later, dawn broke softly through the windows, casting warm golden light across the room. He could hear birds singing cheerfully outside. Cillian dragged himself out of bed, reluctantly pulling on some clothes. Glancing at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed that dark circles rimmed his eyes, testament to his restless night.

He splashed cold water on his face, trying to wake himself up completely. As he dressed, his gaze shifted involuntarily toward the bedroom door, mentally calculating whether he should tell Danielle about his indiscretions or not. But then, reality struck him like a hammer blow to the head. This wouldn't merely damage his reputation, it would destroy his entire world! He shook his head furiously, banishing the thought before it took root. Besides, the risk was too great. Danielle was unpredictable and capable of causing serious harm to someone she perceived as a threat. She already threatened to take Max away on several occasions and, even to you, she could be a threat.

As he walked out of the bedroom, he passed by Danielle's sleeping figure, her face serenely relaxed amidst pillows. There was so much left undiscovered, hidden behind the closed doors of marriages. He tried to shake away these thoughts, knowing they led nowhere.

And then outside, in the living-room, there was his brother, holding a cup of coffee in his hand, looking pensive.

"What?" asked Cillian, attempting to maintain eye contact.

Frank lowered his eyes slightly and offered him the coffee. "You look like you need it man!" he said. 

Cillian accepted gratefully, feeling exhausted both physically and emotionally. The scalding liquid coursed through his veins giving him a brief surge of energy. He sipped it slowly, savoring the rich flavor. He looked questioningly at his brother.

"Nothing," said Frank finally, "It's just… I know things have been difficult lately. And we haven't really spoken about it."

"Spoken about what?" Cillian asked before draining the remaining dregs of coffee from his mug. 

"You and Danielle. You have been fighting a lot, haven't you?" Frank asked quietly 

while sipping his own coffee. "Yes, we argue constantly," admitted Cillian with a bitter laugh. "We never agree on anything anymore."

"Isn't it exhausting?" asked Frank, sympathetically.

"Absolutely," agreed Cillian, "but we just go along, maintaining appearances." He paused briefly, thinking back to his recent trysts with you. Would anyone guess? Probably not...but he couldn't help wondering whether his behavior was suspicious especially as you ran past them both, still wearing the same nightgown which you have worn last night, your hair disheveled.

"Is Y/N alright?" Cillian asked as you failed to acknowledge him and, much to his brother's surprise, Frank mentioned that you were feeling sick.

"Sick? She seemed alright last night, and she sure did not drink too much," Cillian said, concerned.

Frank nodded in agreement. "True, but sometimes people don't realize they're ill until it hits them full force. Maybe she got some bad food yesterday evening," he told his brother who couldn't help but worry about you. 

Tags:

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy x reader

[manjiroscum]

SAPPHIRE TEARS

Character/s: Pantalone/Regrator

Warnings: f!reader, mature language, explicit sexual themes, enemies to lovers, reader is a business woman, slight angst, light hurt to comfort, happy ending, mentions of arguments, pantalone has violet colored eyes here, safe sex practices, soft!pantalone, cunnilingus, and pet name used. Minors do not interact.

Note: commissioned by @imma-write-stuff 🫶 thank you so much luv and i hope you like it! 🥺

Synopsis: His god, gold, and glory is all Pantalone cared about until you came along to push on untouchable buttons.

WC: 1.5k

Miscommunication can lead to unfavorable arguments and encounters. The ninth harbinger, eyeing his glass of wine for a while now, thought so, too. If he had known you would be in this party, nearby the vicinity, Pantalone wouldn’t have come. A year may have passed since your last heated dispute, the Tsaritsa’s money maker still couldn’t forget the words the two of you exchanged. What was even more irritating than having Tartaglia burn through the monthly allowance he was told not to spend so tactlessly was the fact he couldn’t get near you or even strike up a conversation.

Because he was afraid you’d shoot him down.

To be the first to break the ice and dominate the conversation was Pantalone’s forte. It was a mere simple act that he knew the song and dance by heart. However, when his violet eyes which carried well-kept violence and malice landed on the poor unfortunate man hoping to be your last dance, the harbinger wished he could break etiquette. Maybe ramming his fist on the bastard’s silly face would do wonders for his souring mood. It was pathetic, really. For him to stay where he is, watching you from a distance, was irksome. And while he was a man with great ambition paired with a reputation known from miles away, Pantalone suffered cold feet for the first time in a long while. It wasn’t comedic for him, to say the least.

The whole image of him teetering between confronting you and remaining where he was bothered him the entire night the second he saw your elegant form waltz into the ballroom. The hugging dress you wore made every hue of eyes seek after you. You had grown more beautiful since the day you walked out on him while spitting curses at his ‘unethical’ ways of conducting business. Needless to say, the harbinger has burned the sight of your angry expression into his retinas that it was strange and oddly made his heart beat twice as hard whenever you directed a smile at someone. As an adult, petty fights shouldn’t be dwelled on. He should put the past behind him and move on to greener pastures like forming an alliance with you. Your businesses in Snezhnaya were doing well and he has heard about your accomplishments even during his trips to Liyue.

He just didn’t know what to say to you.

“What a spoil…” he muttered to himself, keeping the rim of his glass close to his lips. It was a quick tactic to keep unimportant conversations from occurring. Pantalone, despite how he loved the sound of business deals and whatnot, hated small talk. You knew this, endlessly berating him for this and how he can’t be considerate to his ‘potential’ partners. Oblivious to his gaze averting from your eyes down to your lips, sometimes even lingering on your breasts if he couldn’t help himself. Really, he was disgusted by what you can make him do. Even the Tsaritsa wouldn’t be able to command him to strip himself naked and admit Dottore was the superior servant of the archon. But if you would ask him to, Pantalone would run his bank dry and make himself appear as the fool he has always been since he let you walk out that night since your last fight.

Perhaps everyone was a fool at the hands of love and hate, toyed by mere emotions.

“You’re here,” you whispered to the harbinger. Whether he was surprised by your sudden proximity or the casual way you addressed him, Pantalone never gave away his thoughts. He wouldn’t be one of the Tsaritsa’s trusted men if he was an open book. Frankly, you wished he gave you a minuscule hint of whatever he was feeling. You wouldn’t be standing here, rubbing your arm awkwardly in search of what to say. When was the last time you two weren’t at each other's throats? It was embarrassing that you couldn’t remember. Thankfully, Pantalone did not prolong your silent agony as he raised his glass at you.

“Lovely party, isn’t it?”

“Hardly,” you admitted, unafraid to speak your thoughts to him. “Been quite boring. Not much to talk about with these people. I’d rather be on my way home.”

Whether it was the wine he has been sipping on all night or because of the atmosphere giving the possibility of something more than intense stares, Pantalone’s lips acted quicker than his brain would’ve liked. You didn’t hide how stunned you were at his offer to take you home by his carriage. Anyone who has hated the Regrator at some point in their life would have frozen at the abruptness of it all. And just as he was about to take it back, you found yourself laughing softly while nodding your head. To hear you laugh was so much better than your scorn.

“I’d be happy to accept that offer, my lord. That’s if you’re serious about it…”

He was. Pantalone was not someone who backed down. You realized the severity of his words the moment he called for you out the front door. Your coat wasn’t even put on correctly when he motioned for you to get in the carriage. Yet, he cursed himself for sitting across you. The entire ride to your house was filled with silence except for the sound of breathing. His gaze continuously landed on you, unable to look away for you looked beautiful under the moonlight’s blessing. It wasn’t until you confronted him about his staring that Pantalone stopped.

“What’s the matter, my lord? Is there something wrong with my face?”

“Nothing in particular,” he answered after composing his expression. Pantalone’s wish for you to drop the subject was left unanswered as you continued to prod him with various questions ranging from a teasing tone to an accusatory one. If he admitted that he found you pretty—right here, right now—the harbinger knew he had only two outcomes to face. An ultimate rejection or a confused look. He would rather stay quiet than reveal his feelings carelessly.

Unless he wanted to hurt himself with the reality of your hatred for him.

Seeing that you’re not getting a reply, you gave up with a sigh. The carriage carried you both through the icy road, the horses slowing down as your house grew nearer. Pantalone’s worry about improving this relationship grew as the frost built against the glass window. Maybe his hopes of becoming friends with you—perhaps even more in the near future—were baseless and lacked something. It lacked support from you.

And yet, when you glanced at him, longing in those eyes that were ruthlessly cold to him before, no one could blame him for taking your outreached hand as soon as you got off the carriage. The silent plea for him to join you in the comforts of your home was too deafening and tempting to merely ignore. He didn’t want to lose this chance handed to him on a silver platter. Your soft fingers against his gloved ones, pulling him into your house. Pantalone, willingly as he may, thought that if he were to meet his demise as soon as he got inside, he wouldn’t complain as long as it was by your hands.

Contrary to his imagination, he found heaven instead the second the bedroom door was flung open. His lips found yours in a heated manner, as if he was seeking warmth and to convince himself those days shrouded in the bitter cold were over. He even found euphoria in the shape of your pussy folds opening for his tongue. You guided his touches, encouraging him to continue when he hesitated for a moment. Pantalone’s lips, which were glossed with your juices, moved under the moonlight in the most unfamiliar way to deliver three words you never thought you would hear from him.

“I… desire you.”

“What?”

“I’ve been in love with you, sweetheart. I don't know when, but I guess I have always liked you.”

Strands of silver stood out on his dark hair, making you coil them around your finger, lips curled up as he kissed you more. Tears rolled down your face at his confession, especially the moment he sheathed himself inside you. He saw them and immediately pressed his mouth on them. The feeling of rubber wrapped around his cock was a bit uncomfortable, yet the second he started thrusting made you forget all about it. His kisses and groans fueled your passion, wanting nothing more than to hear him call out your name as you do the same at the peak of your climax. It was no secret that Pantalone sought the feeling of ecstasy from other people, but he has never felt such pure bliss in your arms. Especially once he slowed down his thrusts to hit deeper into you, savoring and burning the look of desperation in your face to reach your high. He came in thick spurts, spilling his warm cum into the rubber while hugging your quivering form. Your juices coated his cock and your thighs messily. Pantalone breathed in your scent, relishing it all with you by his side as what is believed to be an eternal winter continued to rage outside. Spring, at last, fell within the four corners of your bedroom.

#❣️pat.coms #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin pantalone #pantalone smut #pantalone x reader

[xxxdreamscapexxx]

I don’t want to hear thoughts... Unless they’re yours

Chapter 7: Forbidden longing Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader Word count: 4.2k Warning: NSFW, 18+ just in case, angst, dark thoughts, depressive thoughts, Wanda using her magic in a questionable way, Mommy!Kink, Summary: Wanda wanted to live the normal life she was never afforded, but something was always missing. Something she denied herself and buried deep inside. But watching you move next door, she quickly realizes that this may not be possible for much longer. Especially with all the interesting things she found in your thoughts. Chapter summary: Being alone in a new town can be hard. Especially when your past comes back to remind you of all the things you’re missing out on in life. Would Wanda be able to look the other way? Would she be able to stay away from you? Part 1; Part 2; Part 3; Part 4; Part 5; Part 6; Part 7; Part 8; Part 9; Part 10 Series materlist                                     Masterlist of all my works

On a Wednesday night you sighed as you sat on your balcony, a glass of wine resting on the table in front of you. You looked down at the pool, the lights at the edges giving the water a brilliant quality to it that you could easily get lost in. It was a beautiful view. You had many reasons to be happy, including the fact that you managed to hire the last needed person on your team today. By next Monday morning, everyone would have started onboarding, relieving some of the pressure this project had been putting on you, but you were feeling down. The days blurred together on weekdays and they dragged torturously slowly on weekends and you couldn’t find your balance. You needed an escape, a way to recharge in some way, but the one person who offered you respite, you had to cancel on, and now you didn’t have the courage to speak to her again, asking for some company, even when you needed it. Especially after the way you couldn’t tear your eyes away from her body every time she wasn’t looking. You couldn’t deny the woman her beauty and the allure of her maturity was obvious, which only made you shy away from her more. But this wasn’t the only thing weighing you down. You knew the source of your current frustration. You looked at your phone for a brief moment again, the image on the screen daunting. Your eyes lingered on the face of a blond woman, smiling at the camera. She looked happy. Really happy. God, why did that make you feel so dispirited? She hasn’t been in your life for years now. Perhaps it was her, that made you scared of thinking of Wanda, you thought distractedly. That blond woman, who had a cute girl on her arm, the two of them taking a selfie to the background of a sandy beach, she was your first girlfriend, your first ever love, the first woman to claim your heart and body. And she had destroyed you. You knew her since you were little. She was a friend of your mother’s and always so amazingly beautiful. Her glacier, icy blue eyes often seemed as cold as her demeaner, but you knew the woman had a soft side, she often kept hidden. To everyone else, she was one of the most influential, respected business women in your town, but when she was with you, her voice grew soft and sweet, her lips forming into a kind smile that very few knew, her touch so gentle, it almost felt like she was afraid you’d break. That soft side is actually what you fell in love with. You were awfully young, but that attraction stayed with you and during the summer after you turned 18, she finally admitted she knew of your feelings. You tried to deny it, of course, your heart hammering in your chest and your cheeks turning pink at the mention of it. You weren’t sure what you expected, but hearing her say that she shared in your feelings certainly wasn’t it. Yet, she told you she’d give you her heart. That you had it already and she’d do everything in her power to convince you that she was worthy of your affection. Her words and the sincerity behind them had your heart leaping. You wanted her love desperately, so you hid your relationship from your mother, knowing she would be against it. You spent afternoons after school sneaking though town, so you could meet her and your summer “interning” for her, having the time of your life. She knew how to lead, knew how to take control almost effortlessly and you were so happy to give in, so happy to let her take charge and guide you. She took her time to build your confidence and trust in her, took it so slow and steady, until you were ready. Eventually she became your first and you were thrilled to experience love and intimacy with her for the first time. You were happy with her, happy to be hers. And she was happy too. Having a pretty girl on her arm, one that looked at her with so much love and adoration, with so much affection, was all she wanted. When she asked you to take a gap year, between high school and college, so the two of you could spend more time together, you happily agreed, letting her make the decisions and choices you weren’t ready to face. She gave you a more permanent position with her, allowing you to save some money for college, while spending each day with her. She took you to so many of her “business trips”, which were no more than excuses, so she could take you on vacations and spoil you. It all looked wonderful on your resume too, so despite your mother’s very vocal disagreement of your choice, she let you go ahead with it… Now, years later, she told you, it was because she knew of your relationship. Disagreed with it wholeheartedly, and even almost threatened your now ex-girlfriend, but wanted you to be happy. And you were. You would have been happy to be with her for the rest of your life. But the things you loved about her and made you happy, were the same things she grew to dislike about you. In her eyes you were indecisive and rarely took initiative, always relied on her to help you and she was growing frustrated. After a couple of years into the relationship, she kept telling you that you’re a grown up, that you should be able to do things on your own, to deal with life on your own. You were so co-dependant and it was suffocating her. It was almost time for you to go to college and you kept asking her opinion for every decision, kept begging her to accompany you for every small thing, her presence providing calmness and reassurance, that you didn’t know how to function without. If only you knew how to tell her that. How to make her understand. One day, when you needed to go and shop for all your textbooks and supplies, you asked her to join you and she snapped. God, she looked so furious. For the first time since you’ve known her, she was as cold to you, as she was with everyone else, her voice a growl as she told you that you were such a useless little thing, incapable of doing even the smallest of things on your own. Your co-dependency was too much for her. She told you how sick she was of having to decide everything for you. Sick of carrying you through life, sick of seeing that pleading look in your eyes, waiting for her to save you. That day she broke up with you and broke your heart in the process too. The things she said echoed in your head for months. They fed your darkest fears, heightened your insecurity, until you couldn’t recognize yourself. You couldn’t pick yourself up from the floor, spending the remainder of your free weeks before college trying to grow the confidence to even attend. It was the worst pain you’ve ever known.   Eventually you thought of it as a lesson you had to learn. No one would want you the way you were with her. She told you that. And you believed it. You fought social anxiety and insecurity, trying to be independent and strong, trying to never be the way you allowed yourself to be with her. You were raised to be strong, your mother always reminded you, you were meant to lead, to be in control, to be powerful. And you were often told you’re good at it. People trusted you, you had a highly developed sense for justice and you cared about people. Yet, that was never what you wanted. You always felt safest under the blanket of another’s authority. Your next relationships were very different, but never worked out. You were never really yourself with those women and in return, they grew distant and eventually you broke up. At this point you thought that having a relationship that made you happy was impossible. No woman would care for your true self, would she? Your first girlfriend was the most patient of them all and even she had trouble to sometimes accept you and especially your kinks. She always hated it when you called her ‘’Mommy’’. You didn’t mean to, in fact it just slipped out sometimes, but it never failed to turn her off. She tried for you, of course, talked it through with you, but she always had a distaste for it, so you learned to keep it to yourself, never letting it slip out with other partners. No matter how much your other exes asked you about your fantasies or kinks, you never shared that one. You were sure that you would never meet a woman who would accept you, let alone share your preferences, choosing to forever keep them buried. And to keep them that way, you avoided the type of women, who actually attracted you most, knowing that sooner or later you’d slip… Perhaps that’s why you avoided Wanda? But she was kind, sweet, caring, she was always so gentle with you, yet assertive and strong, confident in herself and what she wanted. God, she was perfect! She was everything you ever imagined in a partner. Although that thought was absurd. You didn’t even know her… Truth be told, you shouldn’t even think of her. If you let yourself imagine what it would be like to be with her, you knew you’d fall for her so desperately. And she would snap your heart like a twig. Yes, thoughts of Wanda were a dangerous thing. So, you did your best to ignore any idea of her that would pop into your head. Keeping your distance would be in everyone’s best interest. Especially yours. In the long run, it was much kinder to your heart. Somehow that saddened you more and you gulped down the glass of wine in front of you, pouring yourself another. You were in a self-pitying mood and you allowed yourself to look at the picture of your ex and her new girlfriend and how happy they looked together, a lump in your throat. God, when would it be your turn to be this happy? To find the person, who would look at you with so much love in their eyes? Why was it, that you had to look at the happiness of others, never being allowed to taste it yourself? Was there truly no one out there for you? What was it about you that pushed people away? Were you not pretty enough? Not smart enough? Or were you simply unlovable? You often thought so. And the prospect of walking through life alone had you feeling disheartened quite often throughout the years. You’d smile for the world, observing it quietly, pretending to be content. And when you’d get home you’d cry for hours and hours, wanting to scream so hard your throat would go sore. But you’d take another sleeping pill instead and you’d sink into nothingness. It could be worse, you used to think… But nothing was worse than what you felt inside. It’s a good thing you found help when you did, you thought bitterly. Therapy helped you pull yourself out of the darkness and to start living in the light. But there were always days like this from time to time. Just as you thought of that, a movement inside the Maximoff’s house, a sudden shift, followed by the lights in the entire house going out attracted your attention. You could have sworn you saw the lights on both floors go out at once, but you could see nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary, so you shrugged, your eyes moving back to the pool with its brilliant blue water, entirely unaware of being watched by a pair of green eyes.                                               *             *             * After she came home from that disaster of a date, Wanda spent the whole night thinking. Her thoughts spiralled for hours, her heart protesting the thought that she should just pull away from you. She certainly didn’t want to. But could she keep this a friendship? After everything she saw, everything she did? After sharing so much intimacy with you, could she go back? Of course, she could, she decided. It meant a lot to her, yes, and God, she wanted to take everything else, but nothing was set in stone. You never had to know about Wanda’s transgressions.   But she knew… She knew about all those wonderful things inside your head and as she watched your movements from a distance, her mind closed to the outside world and to your thoughts, and she felt deprived. It was almost like withdrawal. Just like right now… She could see you there, on your balcony, sulking… And she wanted to know what you were thinking about. She wanted to know what made you seem so sad. But she couldn’t allow herself to probe, not if she wanted to stay away from you. Annoyed, as much at the situation, as she was at herself, she huffed, red magic erupting from her fingers and taking out the lights in her house. You were off limits. A place where she shouldn’t wander. If only she had seen the dark thoughts that swirled in your head, the pain that you felt as you sat there, perhaps things would be different. Perhaps she’d know just how much you longed to reach out to her, longed to text her and ask for a moment of her company. But such a thing was not meant to be. Despite the proximity, the two of you were worlds apart, each one engulfed by her own doubts and fears. You, so oblivious and blind and completely consumed by the fear of rejection that resided in your heart, and Wanda, who could see you so clearly, but couldn’t bring herself to take another chance with her barely salvaged heart. As Wanda walked up her stairs, her feet silent in the darkness, she felt a sudden sense of anger. It was the quiet, deeply unnerving kind, the kind that crawled up your skin and made your body suddenly heat up, but just wouldn’t boil over. It was the kind of anger that lingered. It stayed with her while she undressed herself, throwing on only a t-shirt, instead of her pajamas, it messed with her while she brushed her teeth, while she sat up in her bed and watched you through her window… You looked so sad. You looked so fucking beautiful in your sadness too and it made her want to blast the walls of this house with her magic, just so she could be closer to you. She wanted to know what caused your sadness and she wanted to find a way to make it better. Resentful of her own reservations, her own rules that restricted her, she huffed, closing her eyes and trying to push the thought of you out of her head and find some comfort in sleep. But sleep never came. And every time she opened her eyes, she was met with the same sight. The same out worldly beauty, the same terrible sadness written all over it. And she couldn’t stand it. Why did you have to be so beautiful? Why did that look in your eyes have to affect her so much. Wanda watched you for another 5 minutes, her eyes unblinking and her thoughts surprisingly empty, before she decided that she couldn’t stand this anymore. Rules be damned. She wanted to take care of you. She wanted to be good to you tonight. Wanda’s astral body levitated out of her physical one with surprising ease, despite the fact that she hadn’t projected in years. Some things just couldn’t be unlearned over time and magic came way too easy to her now, so perhaps she shouldn’t have been surprised. She walked in front of the mirror in her bedroom and her head tilted as she examined her reflection. Yes, some things never changed. Those scars, gained in magical battle might have disappeared from her skin, but she could see them clearly here. Her red eyes glowed in the darkness, her skin covered in angry, jagged lines, the blackened fingers, that twitched with unused magic, the tattered crown over her head and the suit that she hasn’t worn since mount Wundagore... All those things from her past. She was a true horror, even in her own eyes. How could she ever ask a girl like you to love a monster like the one she so clearly was? But she wasn’t going to ask you to love her. In fact, you wouldn’t even see her. You had no magical abilities, she checked soon after you moved in. So she had nothing to worry about tonight. With a final glance that lingered on her face, Wanda flew out of her house and hovered over your balcony, examining you up close. You were almost in a stupor and Wanda’s astral form flew closer, landing near you and taking the last few steps to you. “Poor, sweet girl. You look so tired.” She said with a note of melancholy understanding, knowing you wouldn’t be able to hear her. The dark circles under your eyes gave you a grave expression that didn’t sit right with her, that didn’t even seem to fit in the image she had of you and the way your body sagged looked so unnatural, like you were a misshapen doll, that it made Wanda shudder. Only your eyes gave away that there was still a spark of life in you, a tornado of feelings and emotions that scrambled your thoughts. As if to show her you’re alive, your hand moved, blindly taking the glass of wine and dawning the remainder if its content, the sharp taste making you shiver as you swallowed it. In a gesture of gentle compassion, Wanda reached out, her fingers stroking your hair softly. “That’s not good for you, darling girl.” She said with a tenderness that looked almost macabre, considering you couldn’t see or feel her. To her surprise, you put the glass down, pushing it away with an apathetic gesture and Wanda crouched down in front of you, eyes studying you with a curious expression. She wondered for a moment if perhaps you had sensed her, but nothing actually gave that away. Your eyes looked unseeingly through her and into the blue water of the pool. But perhaps on some level you could feel her, she hoped, standing up straight again and moving to your side, her forehead touching your temple softly as she breathed you in, while one of her hands circled your shoulders and embraced you gently. Her blackened fingers looked so grotesque next to your unblemished skin, but she couldn’t help herself basking in your proximity, in your presence, in your smell, in your warmth. Despite what she might have looked like, she only wanted to get a moment of gentleness from you. She wanted to hug you, to lay your head on her chest and stroke your hair, a gesture she knew would soothe both of you. God, she probably looked deranged right now, but as soon as your body tilted to the side, as if to lean more against her, Wanda lost all ability to care. Some part of you did sense her, she thought, a surge of excitement passing through her body. She wondered just how much she would be able to influence you in this state. You were obviously more susceptible to suggestion in your tired drunkenness, but she was only in her astral form, her own capabilities limited. And she didn’t really want to manipulate you in any sinister way, just to get you to bed, so you could rest a little. You still had work in the morning and it was already so terribly late… “Sweetheart, do you think you can go to bed for me?” She asked softly, still holding you. It was an empty feeling, her astral form incapable of feeling the way she did, but it was better than nothing. With a soft, affectionate smile, she felt you yawn, your arm making the instinctive motion of covering your mouth, but coming up a few seconds late. “Yes, that’s right. You’re feeling very sleepy right now and you want to go to bed.” She whispered, detaching herself from you. She watched you try to stifle another yawn, but it didn’t quite work. You seemed almost ready to fall asleep right on the chair. It was downright cute, the way you tried to snuggle into the chair for comfort. But Wanda couldn’t let you sleep here. “Your bed would be much more, comfortable, darling.” She whispered in your ear, feeling elated. She felt free. To speak as she wished, to say the things she wanted to say, without fear, without restrictions, without limit. In the cover of darkness, in a state, where the whole universe was her witness, yet no human around would ever hear her, she could say out loud the things she kept hidden. Your body refused to move, your eyes opening and closing in uneven intervals as she watched you. Poor baby was so tired. She would have picked you up and carried you if she could, but she only had her voice to use, so she tried again. “Go on, baby. Go to bed. You’re not supposed to stay here.” She said again, stroking your hair. God, it felt so good to be able to say this out loud. To show you the affection you deserved. Perhaps in her freedom, she could use the words she had never spoken out loud… “Come on, darling, Mommy will cuddle you to sleep if you go to your bed.” She suggested, feeling a shiver pass through her at how good it felt to say those words, already feeling the rush of excitement at the thought of having you in her arms. She could talk to you like this for hours. At this, you stirred, straightening in your chair and trying to keep your eyes open and Wanda smirked. Such a sweet, pliable girl… “Let’s get you into bed.” Wanda smiled, repeating her instructions, until you finally stood with a tired sigh and another stifled yawn. “Such a good girl.” The witch praised you, following your steps into the house and its master bedroom.   The space was dark, but you couldn’t be bothered by the lights, not wanting to irritate your eyes, instead standing in front of the bed and reaching to undress yourself. “No, don’t undress, baby. Mommy won’t be able to stop herself if you take your clothes off.’’ Wanda rushed to stop you. It’s not that she didn’t want to see you, the temptation to let you strip yourself down and expose all your beauty almost too great for her to resist. But she didn’t want to take advantage of you like that. “Just lie down, now darling.” She instructed in a gentle voice, coaxing you to lie down. She watched you take a deep breath, before you reached behind your back, unclasping your bra and taking it off your shoulders and from underneath your clothes, throwing in carelessly on the nearby armchair, before you climbed into bed, not even bothering with the covers. It was such a warm night anyway. You pulled down one of the many pillows at the top of the bed and hugged it, your body needing the feeling of proximity and Wanda’s eyes swelled with tears. God, she couldn’t even remember how many nights she had fallen asleep in just the same way. True to her words, she climbed into bed, facing you and she draped one of her arms over your body. “Sleep now, little angel, Mommy’s here.” She whispered softly. She watched you fall asleep in mere seconds, clearly exhausted, and she watched the features in your face grow softer and more content, once you had drifted. You were still so gorgeous, so precious, cuddled up into bed. She could stay and watch you like this all night. She certainly wanted to. She wanted to let her physical body sleep in her bed, while she stayed here with you, watching you, soothing you, admiring you… But she couldn’t do that… She was meant to keep herself away from you, not learn a new way to be close to you. Staying would only tempt her further. Bargaining with herself, feeling reluctant to leave your side, she spent another half an hour next to you, her hand stroking your cheek affectionately as she watched you sleep, but eventually, she left. Her astral form returned back into her body as if slammed by invisible force, leaving her breathless and full of half-felt emotions. Wanda felt so unfulfilled, knowing you were so close to her, sweetly curled around a pillow and sleeping peacefully. Leaving your side truly left a bitter aftertaste in her. She had gotten a glimpse of being so close to you, of being so utterly herself and now she wanted so much more. She wanted to throw away all her restraint and just fly back to you, where she felt whole, felt a sense of serenity that’s been missing in her. As her eyes snapped open, she groaned. Giving you up, would be much harder than she anticipated. ______________________________________________________ As always, I’d love to know what you guys think about the chapter and the story in general.  Disclaimer: Gif is not mine. I’d be happy to give credit if I knew who made it...

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff fanfiction #Mommy!Wanda #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #Scarlet Witch #lesbian #mommy kink #angst

[millionsvash]

Hey I have an angst for you!!! Vash's s/o being sweeter and more doting than normal (they're sweet to him generally but now they've just cranked it up to 12) and when he confronts them about it, they say "I dont want you to leave me" Turns out they're very insecure and are trying to "give him better reasons to stay."

I hope this is to your liking! TW: Anxiety, self image issues.

Vash’s eyes carefully scanned over the contents delicately arranged before him. A 12-pack of donuts, a case of locally brewed beer from his favorite shop, and his favorite meal cooked exactly how he liked it. He’d never question this show of affection from you most days, but things have changed.

For weeks now, you’ve grown more affectionate towards the gunman. It began with words of affection, reminding him constantly that you loved him. From there, words turned into actions. Most nights, you were clinging to him in bed. While he was all for the comfort of physical affection, it began to become suffocating.

He hadn’t thought about it at first, but standing before this selection of offerings, his mind began to piece it together. It’s been a month since the two of you visited his favorite bar. He knew everyone there. Despite his infamous reputation and substantial bounty, his knack for thwarting large bar fights had earned him the gratitude of the owner.

There was a particular barmaid who had taken quite a liking to Vash. Despite Vash consistently rejecting her advances, she was as persistent as ever, only stopping her incessant pestering when you were around. Vash had told you of her actions straight away the first time she attempted to make a move. He wanted to be transparent with you. Of course, you had nothing but faith in Vash, but many could mistake his kind manner of speaking for flirting. The first time she openly flirted with Vash in front of you, you were left with a pit in your stomach that never seemed to go away.

You can’t count on your fingers the number of hearts Vash had to break when he informed an admirer that he was happily taken. It’s happened so much, the two of you have jokingly agreed he should wear a shirt with "taken" written in bold letters.

It had been funny at first, but over time it began to build insecurities inside of you. In your opinion, many of those who approached him were better-looking than you. The spiral downward was fast. It festered into a voice that nipped at your brain at all hours of the day.

Vash had noticed a plethora of new behaviors that emerged in a short period of time. You had begun to actively avoid mirrors; you’d become interested in cosmetics despite having no desire originally; and you were dressing up whenever you two would leave together, even for the smallest thing. You were buttering him up with words, agreeing to all forms of intimacy whenever he asked, suggesting to do things you knew he specifically liked every day.

Vash’s eyes moved from the delicacies in front of him to lock eyes with you. He could tell that smile on your face was fake. Truthfully, you were terrified he wouldn't be interested in what you gave him. Strong hands grab both your shoulders firmly, blue eyes staring a hole through you.

"I can’t take this anymore. Something is wrong; you’re hiding something from me." His voice was firm and assertive, but it still held care. "In just one month, you’ve changed as a person. It’s like you’re an entirely new person, and I hate it." There was a light crack in his voice. Perhaps it had been slowly eating at him too. "Please…just tell me what’s wrong."

All it took were those last 5 words to reach your ears for you to turn into a sobbing disaster. In the back of your mind, you had been silently praying that Vash would speak up about it. Too afraid to be open with him and too afraid to reach out for help, you had been suffering in silence for the past month. Tears flooded your eyes, blurring your vision of the blonde standing in front of you.

In an instant, he had pulled you against his large frame, wrapping his arms around you and resting his hands against the small of your back. You felt his chin rest upon your head, only moving once to place a soft kiss. The two of you remained this way as your tears washed away a month of suffering in silence.

"I’m scared." You say it to him in a soft, airy voice. You are still attempting to choke back your tears.

"Scared of what? Has someone threatened you? Did someone do something to you? Please, tell me." His grip on you gets ever-so-gently tighter, giving you a soft squeeze. "No…I’m scared of being alone."

Vash is taken aback by your words. "Alone? You’re not alone. I’m right here! You know I’m always here." There was a soft chuckle in his words, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely understanding what you meant.

"It’s only a matter of time before you find someone better than me." Just saying those words felt like a knife was being stabbed into your chest. "I’m…average. There’s nothing about me that stands out above the competition." You continue to speak after taking a large breath. "One day, you’ll find someone better…and I’ll be alone again." You finally gather the courage to look Vash in the eyes.

You regretted that instantly. You made him cry. You could see the tears forming in his eyes, threatening to drip down his cheeks. You felt like such an asshole. You keep thinking you should’ve just kept it to yourself.

"Vash, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have sa—"

"Don’t ever say that again." You flinch at the sharpness of his voice. "Don't ever think of yourself like that." His tone softens immediately upon your reaction. "You are the best to me. You don’t stand out above the competition because there is no competition. Everything about you is perfect." His hands move to grip your shoulders, locking you in place.

"Vash, I–" You try to stammer out words, but he doesn’t let you get a word in.

"You have the most amazing laugh. It lights up the whole room when you do. Your smile is like a warm hug. The compassion and kindness you have in your heart for every person in this world is unrivaled. You are a gift to everyone you meet." You can feel his hands trembling as he holds your shoulders. "You’re a gift to me…"

Those tears in his eyes finally fell down his face. He can’t hold back his emotions. Hearing you speak so negatively about yourself was like a punch to the gut.

"I will never leave you."

As your own tears return to soak your cheeks, the two of you grasp each other in a tight embrace. You allow yourselves to cry because even if the world were against the both of you, you’d always have each other.

#trigun #trigun stampede #vash #vash the stampede #Vash x Reader #Vash the Stamede x Reader #Vash x You #Trigun x Reader #trigun fanfic #breakfast is served!

[falling-heights]

☆ Arthur Morgan ☆ -  I gave you all 

     [pt. 1]

Summary: You meet a ghost from your past several years after splitting ways. Only, he isn’t as kind as you remembered him being. And perhaps, it’s been too long for him to still forgive you.

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: violence, gun use, graphic scenery, injury, blood

Part 1  -  Part 2  -  Part 3

“Y o u   c a l l   i t   h o p e--   t h a t   f i r e   o f   f i r e!   

I t   i s   b u t   a g o n y   o f   d e s i r e.”   

Trees rushed past in a blur of green and brown. Small patches of wildflowers added a splash of color every now and then. The sun was setting.

It'd been at least 9 hours since you'd entered this train car, and your fatigue was beginning to form a pulsing headache. The idea of sleeping now greatly outweighed your initial excitement. 

It wouldn't be long now, you thought, perhaps only a few more hours before you arrived at Blackwater. How long had it been since you'd stepped foot in that town? It would never seem to be long enough. The last image you had of it was stained an ugly red, and you along with it. 

But still, through Blackwater, you had a one-way ticket to a new life, to leave this god-forsaken country behind, to shed your wolf-skin and live amongst the fold again. 

With one last glance towards the dimly-lit horizon, you watched the last few golden streaks retreat behind the mountains before sinking into the red velvet seating and resting your head against the glass. Feeling the chill of the oncoming night breathing through the window and fogging up the glass, you let the gentle shaking of the train lull you to a peaceful haze; Your last thoughts were of what the coming times might bring. 

But that's silly, isn't it? To always be certain of the future-- or better, to think that anyone can change the rolling tides once they've already reached the shore. 

It was dark when the train lurched to a shaky halt. The brightest source of light came from the lanterns hanging on the exterior of the train. Thinking that you may have arrived, you glanced through the window, only to be met with a wall of trees and thick foliage. The train was still a ways off from civilization-- at least a couple dozen miles from what you had to guess, and from the nervous whispering of your fellow passengers, it was clear that something was off. They fidgeted with their watches and sleeves, trying to catch light of why the engine died so far from it's intended destination. It didn't seem this stop was scheduled.

Sitting up, your mind flashed with a number of possibilities. Maybe the train had broken down, maybe a stowaway was just being thrown off, maybe something had fallen onto the tracks just up ahead. 

But then the rear-facing door swung open, and a guard crept down the aisle. The man was dressed in plainclothes of a brown suit and matching pants-- not policemen. This was the type you would hire to protect cargo from thieves, not to commune with passengers, or by any means to help them. He held a well-worn rifle in one hand, and with the other, he loaded bullets. On his belt hung a singular revolver, visibly in worse condition than the rifle. You only heard three bullets being loaded.

"Ladies, Gentlemen, there's no gentle way to explain our situation," He was sweating, never sparing a glance towards anyone. His eyes remained trained on the clearing of the other cars ahead, flashing at each and everything that moved. He sounded beside himself, yet still attempting to keep everyone else calm. "We are facing a robbery, it seems."

The whispering quickly evolved into panic, elicited even more so when an array of gunfire went off just up ahead. The guard raised his arms, commanding silence from the travelers. 

"I know this might be a very alarming situation for all of you, but please, try to stay calm," He was hardly calm himself. The grip on his gun was tight and trembling. And with only three bullets, he must have already known what his terms were. "The best thing you can do is stay quiet and comply. I don't wish that anyone here suffers to something like this, but if I am unable to keep you all safe, then it's a better bargain for you to lose your valuables than to lose your lives."

A familiar feeling sunk in-- despair. As though a past life was coming back to haunt you. You hadn’t felt such harsh degrees of terror like this in years. As panic set in, painful memories clawed their way from your head. Of the money you'd burned. Of the scars left beneath your garments. Of the guns left buried in Rhodes. Of anything, leaving those guns behind hurt the most. They had been a gift after all, from someone once special. But times like those were far gone in the past, left behind by what you'd sought to bury and destroy.

The guard opened the side door toward the front of the car. Visibility was finite through the pitch-black air. What light the exterior lanterns did provide was meager and a garish orange. He took a final breath and stepped forward.

His head ended up hitting the ground faster than his feet could. 

A bang. 

A splat. 

And then a thud. 

The gun misfired as it landed, startling you from your seat. All within three seconds. 

His body collapsed in the mud, and the entire side of the train car's windows was mottled with blood. Someone behind you screamed. A woman. A few more followed her. Someone started to cry, clutching their pearl-lined purses, and silver coated rings. Yet, you had nothing to hold, nothing to give. Nothing to pray you don’t lose. You had nothing left except the ticket in your hands and your life.

Had this man really been the last one left? Nothing but a hired escort? And yet, knowing this, instead of playing the docile part that could have saved his life, he stepped into death's hand.

What man could ever be such a fool?

Now standing, an arrangement of ideas rushed through your head, with one message shared among them: 'Get out. Leave.' Your feet carried you, eyes guiding each step. The rear-facing door was still swung open. It could very well be your only chance. 

Quietly backing away from the front, ignoring the pitying pleas of others as you passed through them. How scared they seemed-- how helpless to their unfortunate circumstances. You wanted nothing to do with their situation, however, a small sight instilled a small pause in your movements-- a little girl, saddled in the lap of her mother, who tried in these moments to comfort her child. A fleeting thought went to her, perhaps of a sort of sympathetic appeal, and then you continued to move. Perhaps if you did not already know how things would end, you might have offered to help. But you would not make the same mistake as the guard. You were no fool. 

Small dapples of light began to spread from the front of the train, quickly approaching. Time was against you. A hand went to your hair, tacitly removing the hair pin keeping several strands pinned up. A knife would have been preferable, perhaps even a gun, but a thin needle would have to do. The pointed end barely stuck out much farther than your palm as you held it closely. 

Just a few more steps now. 

You let out a breath once you felt your free hand hit the handle to the wooden framing. Turning, you were just about to make it when--

The barrel of a gun stared you down. Behind it, a masked man. It seems you weren't quick enough. They had gone around the side, closing any exits. 

"Going somewhere, little lady?" You didn't recognize the voice, but there was a snideness in his tone, thinking he'd just caught a little bird trying to escape. He stepped forward, onto the car, and you mirrored by taking a step back. "I suggest you turn back around."

The gun's hammer was cocked, a death sentence if you chose to disobey. You would have to wait a moment more. Sitting in the closest empty seat, his eyes gleamed in satisfaction. He made his first mistake in moving the gun away from you. The second mistake was taking steps past you, leaving himself open from behind. And thus, the moment had arrived. 

Suddenly lunging back up, your arm swung down, piercing the skin of his neck. Digging it further, you kept pushing until all that was left of the hairpin was the decorative gold head. 

"Fucking bitch!" He hollered, his hand defensively starting to swat at his neck. Giving him no chance to rebut, you turned heel and ran back to the door, giving it a singular, hearty shove, and jumping down to the muddy ground.  The gun fired, lodging itself into the wooden frame of the train, but its damage was dealt. Four men, all armed, one with a lantern, immediately became aware of your presence on the opposite end of the car.  

The lantern was of a kind you had seen only used by watch-men and hunters, except for the few times that you had used one during your more active hours. The kind that blocked most of its light, except through a small glass sight, allowing for handlers to focus a solid beam in any direction. Right now, that light was focused on you, a quivering form, half-crouching on the muddy tracks. 

Behind you, an open meadow sat, its own invitation laced with bad omen. The only hope of getting through such an exposed field would be to run, and though the grass may be tall, hiding would never be an option. Ahead of you, the trees loomed, almost screaming at you to break from your spot and find solitude in its foliage. Through the trees, you would at least have the chance to lose them.

So, truly, what were your choices? To hide, or to run?

Hiding surely. You doubted your body could outrun 4 grown men, none of which seemed to be any less athletic than men in their prime. Their were a few eerily moments of silence. Everyone was deciding what to do next, including you. 

With an unstable breath, you quickly gathered the ruffled layers of your dress, hoisted the heavy fabric, and took off towards your only chance at freedom. There would only be a minute head start before they would the chase. Every moment counted. Every second decided how this would end. 

Your shoes were not made for running, evidently, as the heels dug further into the mud with every step, causing a shot balance and a slow start. Some indistinct yelling sounded from behind. Three of the four men followed in pursuit of you, the other likely told to continue operations with the other passengers. Six pairs of feet quickly crept up on you, pounding into the ground heavily, the forest floor was practically quaking beneath you. You were correct in choosing the forest over the meadow. These men were apt, keeping a steady pace on you, like bloodhounds hunting down fresh game. 

The ground was uneven, hardly visible. You would find yourself falling for brief moments with sudden dips in the ground, and crawling when it rose again just as swift. The farther you went, the more you prayed that the moon would continue to guide your eyes. But, the forest grew thicker with every step. And soon, the canopy overhead of Elms and Alpines would completely consume what little help you had left. 

The sounds of footfall faded, first six, then 4, and then just 2, until ceasing altogether, and for a moment, you were hopeful that they'd given up. Taking a quick glance, you almost froze in place, still slowing down significantly. They had indeed stopped their chase, however it wasn't from a lack of interest. From the small glance, only one had managed to stay on your trail, however, though he longer chased, the outline of a well-worn rifle was clear. He was watching your form retreating. It was obvious their intentions weren't to let you live, and instead of wasting their energy, they must have decided a quick and steady aim would be more efficient. 

He missed the first shot. The bullet struck the ground just by your ankles. It would take him about 4 seconds to reload the gun. There was doubt he would miss again. Running wouldn't do you any good anymore either. Your energy was on reserve, and the heavy dress dragged your body down. But what could you do in just 4 seconds? There wasn't time to think, no time to escape the scope of range. 

The tree's trunks were thin and narrow, but it was all you had. Running to the closest stump, your back slammed into the bark, skin pulsing with adrenaline. Bracing for the sound of another misfire, but the trigger wasn't pulled. For precious seconds, you waited, catching your breath, eyes flying wildly around for any sign of movement, but your panic was met with silence. 

And then you realized, he was waiting for you. Why should he waste another bullet? You would eventually need to leave your spot, and he would wait until you did. Better make it count, then. 

Around, you could barely see. Various pillars of other trees and bushes was about all you could make out. But just ahead, was what looked like a large divot in the forest floor. Perhaps a ditch or a small creek. You couldn't hear any running water, but the blood hammering in your ear-drums would surely deafen a small creek. Still, it was likely your best shot at survival. If you could just make it into that trench, you might be able to avoid any further gunfire, and you could follow the channel out of the area.  If you could just make it from this tree to that ditch. 

Funny, you thought for a moment, that despite how much you tried to bury it, you still ended up on the end of a gun. Perhaps, not the end you would have preferred. There was nothing left to do. Death would meet you regardless of what you did now. Stay, and he would eventually lose patience. Move, and likely be shot before you could make more than a few feet. But only one option had any chance. With a deep breath, you stepped out.

You thought to your mother then. Of her, you really couldn't remember much, but her words have lasted far longer than any other memories. In this moment, as your foot met the ground, digging in  to the cold mud an old warning of hers slowly drifted to your cerebral thoughts. 

"Such a little dreamer, such big ideas.... . Some day, you will need to face the world, for how it works, and not for how you wish it to.”

Your other foot foot kissed the ground, Of your mother, and her words, one thing you knew was certain about life. Death would one day meet you. Of course, this was inevitable, but to think that it would have come so soon.  

Your third step was your final. Finally, the bullet's target was found. It lodged itself snugly in your upper calf, ripping through muscle and tendon, completely eviscerating the lower half of your leg.  A strange sort of yelp, like an injured dog left your lips. Your body turned parallel to the mud, half falling, half diving into the sticky muck. The rough impact caused your neck to snap down, snagging your upper lip on a root, and many more dug into your skin roughly. The taste of blood was strong, but the pain was almost numb compared your shredded leg, which now felt like it had been caught in a meat grinder. You didn't need to look to tell that you were losing blood. There were little droplets of blood spattered along fallen leaves, mixing into the brown sludge. The warm, sticky liquid could be felt leaking down your leg. 

Wheezing, trying to lift yourself up, your body was crying itself along the ground. Unwilling any mobility, your blown leg shook involuntarily, muscles trying to constrict despite no longer being connected to each other. The feeling of shock was starting to creep up the rest of your leg, spreading through waves of heated chills. But still, despite the inability to stand, you tried dragging yourself. By now, from the pain, and the exhaustion that you felt growing, your breath sounded more like shrill, desperate wails. Frustration and despair ebbing with every exhale. The tears couldn't be restrained any longer. Letting out a sob, your head pressed against your outstretched arm, fingers clawing against the mud, filling the underside of your nails with mud. 

Footsteps quickly approached. 

A string of blood infested saliva hung from your lips, stretching thickly to the ground. The man towered over you, the lantern hanging from his hand, a poorly-taken care of rifle supported by his shoulder. 

"Thought we'd let a pretty little bird like you get away, did'ya?" Your wheezing suddenly broke. Familiarity. The Irishman set the lantern down, letting the light bleed into the proximate area. "Let's see what good of a catch you are."

A gloved hand, reeking of gun oil and tobacco, snatched your cheeks, squeezing your face, forcibly making your lips pucker. He raised your head sharply upwards, causing you to grimace in discomfort. Clearly, despite the tears and sweat that clouded your eyes, Sean's face was unmistakable. But despite the pain, and the misery, you glared defiantly. 

"Are my eyes deceiving me...?" For a rare moment in his life, Sean sounded faint, equally shocked at the possibility at such a reunion. But, it was brief, for after a moment of quiet, he began chuckling to himself. "Been awhile, hasn't it, Sweets? Thought'd we'd see the last of each other after what happened. I almost can't believe this."

Choosing to remain silent, Sean hummed and allowed your face to fall. 

"Can't say I haven't missed you, though. Can't say I'm the only one either..." His voice changed again, seeming a bit more dull, as though the thought of your absence all these years held genuine weight. "Oh, I'm forgettin' my manners... A lot's changed, y'know."

"Sean, please listen to me..."  He circled around you, kicked back the ends of the dress that covered your leg. 

"Agh! I really did a number, didn't  I? " Sean knelt, gently grasping the lower half of your leg, turning it from one side to the other to discern the damage he'd dealt. "Sorry 'bout that there. But, well, uh, I guess thank god it wasn't some poor innocent girl, right?"

"Sean, I need your help." It was pathetic, begging to someone who was once a friend. Someone who knew many secrets, and shared even more. He stood up, circling back around to face you. The other two grunts finally caught up, though neither spoke up.

"Oh, do you now? Here, I wanna see your face all proper." He smiled to himself, rustling through his coat pockets before presenting a small handkerchief that was partly matted with dried sweat.  He offered it to you, and hesitantly, you accepted. "Well, I don't know. Seems like you were just fine with leaving all us so suddenly. If I didn't know any better, I'd say's you might just be trying to appeal to my soft side. But not you, right?"

"This isn't funny, Sean."  Using the rag to clean your mouth and face. "I don't want to be any part of this." 

"So, we ought to just leave you here then, that's your solution? Poor little thing bleeding out? Hand me another rag, pal." After being given a small rolled  bandage by one of the other men, Sean dropped to the ground next to you, and began to lowly unwind the roll. "That just don't sit right with me. You can't even stand at this point. But that's not really what's so concerning. You caused a bit of a mess behind you. Don't you want to see the rest of the group? One last 'fare-thee-well'?"

He wasn't being genuine, it should have been clear from the start that trying to barter with him would be a waste of time. The last few words dug especially deep, almost as though he was finding your helplessness a tad too funny. You fell silent, opting to guess how this would go. Sean said a few words, none of which you really listened to, until he picked the lantern back up, conclusively. 

"Tie her up. I'm off to get tha' Big Boy." They complied, Sean flashed a wide smile. When they finished their binds, Sean flashed another look that screamed with excitement, "Don't run off now, we're all in for a real treat."

Bitterly, you waited for his return, expecting perhaps Dutch to be in tow. However, when the light of the lantern pierced through the tree line once more, it was evident that Dutch was not the man returning with Sean. Another figure sat broadly on a black shire.

You thought you'd seen a ghost.

Perhaps you had.

The one tiring you couldn't bury, the sole reason that you tried to leave. Upon you, the sight of an early grave closed in. you felt hollow through your chest, like your soul was trying to leave you then, but both body and soul were trapped, unable to flee from this horrid sight The man you once thought had the prettiest eyes, and such a gentle face. 

All of that was gone now. It had been long before either of you had last seen each other. Trees whispered to each other, gossiping with the wind. All wondering what would happen next. Upon his horse, he descended, Adjusting a pair of riding gloves as he did. A dirtied facecloth hung from his face, masking his current emotions from the outside world. Silence lay, as though the forest itself lay uneasy with such solemn presence.

"Leave us."

{The gif provided is actually the Arthur from my own save file}

#arthur morgan #yandere #yandere arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #yandere rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #yandere x reader #yandere red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan fanfiction

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Fever Dream (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @saraicus​​​​

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Established relationship. Fluff. You develop a flu-like illness resulting in fever dreams. Morpheus helps you with the nightmares and cares for you.

Warnings: sickness, nightmares

Word Count: 2.2k

Sandman Masterlist

--------------------------------------------

Pressing your fingertip to the red circle of pixels on your phone screen to hang up the call took effort.

That was when you knew that you were in for a brutal few days.

Your boss had asked very few questions on said call, summating pretty easily from your voice that you were not in any fit state to be working.

Your first sign of what was to come had been the sore throat that had emerged the day before yesterday. A scritchy sensation that had intensified with every swallow before progressing into a tickly cough in the next 24 hours.

Bedtime last night saw you at the proverbial fork in the sickness road. One path led to a moderate illness and the other to a severe one. The only way to know which you were about to be dealt was to wait until morning.

According to your memory, there had been no recent contact with anyone acutely sick, and with this in mind, you had not mentioned your symptoms to Morpheus when you had gone to meet him in the Dreaming. There seemed little reason; you had been fairly certain that it wasn’t going to be bad.

Understatement didn't even cover it.

You had woken ten minutes ago with aches so deep inside your bones that it felt like your marrow was being scraped by razor claws. Every movement was now painful, including low impact ones like utilising your phone.

You plop the object on your bedside table before slumping back against your pillow.

All you desire is sleep yet you know you must attend to some basic needs first. You go through the list in your head:

1. Toilet

2. Sustenance

3. Hydration

4. Painkillers

5. Hydration Pt. II

The very idea of moving was not tempting in the slightest yet you cajole yourself out into the cold air of your apartment. Your steps are wobbly on the way to the bathroom and lurching as you press on to the kitchen.

You shovel a banana into your mouth and down an entire pint of water with great urgency. Two paracetamol tablets are then chased down with another gulp of tepid liquid.

How you manage to get back to your bedroom while holding a full glass and several packets of medication without incident, you are unsure however, it is a relief when you are back under your covers.

Sleep claims you not long after.

***

Morpheus senses your return to the Dreaming and it confuses him slightly. Why had you come back so quickly? You are a firm believer in getting up when your alarm sounds.

The Endless reasons that you must have changed your schedule. A day of leave from work, perhaps. The idea satisfies him for a little while and then curiosity becomes too predominant.

He lets his being drift towards your sleeping mind to check in.

What he finds in your subconscious is a kaleidoscope of disjointed scenes, all with an unpleasant or sinister underpinning.

You are holding a frightened cat in your arms as you wade through knee high sewage. You are in a room with an old television that bursts into flames when you go to turn it off. You are scrabbling on a hardwood floor, desperately trying to find something but being completely unable to remember what it was that you had misplaced. You are running through deserted streets, convinced that someone is following you, taking more and more detours to try and shake them off.

He feels your fear reach a crescendo as your pursuer gains a corporeal form. The images then begin to shake, burning and flashing with a palette of hyper-reality.

He has seen this many times before.

You were having a fever dream.

Which meant you were suffering.

You suddenly cry out his name and the sound is like the stab of a blade in Morpheus' gut.

He ends the nightmarish dream without hesitation, tells Lucienne of his intentions and leaves to journey to you in the Waking World.

***

Morpheus stands at the foot of your bed. Even with the curtains drawn, he is able to notice your off-colour complexion. Your eyes are closed despite being awake. The covers are draped clumsily over your frame. He longs to re-arrange them to ensure you are completely wrapped in their embrace but he doesn't want to startle you with an unexpected touch.

He speaks your name.

Your eyelids flutter and your attention is drawn to where he is standing. Your eyes are unable to focus yet you know what you are seeing is Morpheus for you would recognise his silhouette anywhere. Whether he was real was a different matter.

"Morpheus?"

"My love."

His deep, rich timbre thrums through the air at a resonance that is unable to be fabricated; no hallucination could match it even if it tried.

"Why are you here?"

As your partner, it was not the first time he had been in your house however it was the first time he had come unannounced.

"You called for me in your sleep."

"I did?" You let out a cough.

"You were having a fever dream."

You suddenly become aware of the clammy sweat that is drenching every part of your body. In fact, the more you dialled into your senses, the more you began to notice other hallmarks of being in the grasp of a fever. The inability to regulate your core temperature manifesting in the quick-fire switching of hot and cold. Deep seated shivers that ripple through your body and into the mattress. It must have come on since you had fallen asleep.

Morpheus moves to crouch beside you.

"What can I do to help you, my love?"

"I think I just need to sleep."

He concurs with a nod before adding, "I will ensure that it is a peaceful one."

He reaches inside the pocket of his coat and produces his leather pouch.

"When would you like me to wake you?"

You fumble for your phone to check the time.

"In 3 and a half hours. That's when I can take my next lot of medication."

"May I sit next to you?"

You nod your agreement.

Morpheus walks around the bed and removes his boots before situating himself beside you. He neatens the duvet with a precise tug.

"I will be here to watch over you."

"Thank you," you whisper hoarsely.

Morpheus takes some sand and breezes it across your face with a steady exhalation. He feels your mind materialise in the Dreaming.

Barefoot, you walk on the shoreline of a deserted beach. A gentle tide laps over the golden sand. The sun is high in the sky, accompanied by pillowy clouds. A tranquil haven.

You sit just out of reach of the waves and deeply breathe the sea salt air with closed eyes. Morpheus chooses this moment to step into the frame and settle next to you, a direct mirroring of your waking world configuration.

He watches you intently and is soon satisfied; your smile and the unfurling of your fists indicate that you have calmed, at least in your psychological space.

Morpheus comes back to your bedroom and assumes sentry. A couple of hours pass and then he begins to see a fiery blaze in your cheeks.

His palm presses against your forehead. It is inferno-like in temperature. He pulls you out, rife with worry. You come to slowly, weakly rubbing the remnants of the sand from the corners of your eyes.

"Is it really 10:30 already?" Your voice sounds strange and nasal when you talk.

"No, my love. I felt it necessary to wake you; you are crimson."

He folds the cover back to give you some ventilation. The cooler air feels good on your skin.

"The meds must have worn off already," you reason dazedly.

"I think it would be wise if you drink some water."

He helps you to sit up. You take small sips as he rubs circles on your lower back, an action that never fails to induce relaxation inside you.

After you lay back down, you find the next 45 minutes to be agony. The pressure in your sinuses is making the roots of your teeth ache horribly. Involuntary twitches of your limbs shoot pain everywhere. Your temperature inches higher and higher, forcing you to throw off the covers entirely.

You whimper involuntarily as the random spasms become non-stop shudders and that is when you begin to feel tears leaking from your eyes.

Morpheus hates seeing you this way. You know it from how his gaze never strays from you, in the way he protectively strokes your face.

"I'm sorry." They are the only words you can muster right now with the brain fog that has taken hold.

"Why are you apologising? You did not choose to be unwell."

His words console you instantly. You could always rely on him to be the voice of reason.

You check your phone again. It was finally time for your next round of tablets.While waiting for the medication to kick in, you find that your mind starts to lose clarity and lucidity. Fever-induced images float eerily before your eyes; you screw them shut, hoping to sleep instead but you can’t because of frustrating cyclical thoughts.

A single lyric from a song you had been listening to yesterday repeats with sanity-robbing precision. More tears fall. Morpheus wipes them away.

"Can you make me sleep again?" You ask desperately.

***

Over the next couple of days, Morpheus uses his sand several times to ease you into slumber. It wrecks your sleep pattern, along with the daytime napping, however he reasons it is necessary for healing and allows it. He also takes care of you in other ways through refilling your water glass, bringing you food and steadying you while you brush your teeth and wash.

The depths of his patience and devotion were seemingly bottomless. You do not know what you would have done without him. When you tell him this, his usual composure slips and he turns an adorable, bashful pink.

At the end of the third day, you feel a marked change in your health. The fever breaks, taking the shudders and hallucinations with it. You are still weak, achy and mentally fuzzy but the difference is such a relief for you, and for your diligent partner.

When the evening draws in, you are finding it near-impossible to switch off with your broken circadian rhythm. Morpheus is reading a book by lamplight beside you; you place a hand on his to get his attention.

“Can you help me sleep, please?”

You look automatically to the pocket where he keeps his sand pouch. Morpheus places the book on the floor.

“Not this time, my love. You are much improved and you must learn to sleep on your own again.”

You worry your bottom lip. “I don't think I can.”

He smiles at you softly, moving a few stray strands of hair off your face. “You can. I believe in you.”

“But it's so easy when you use your sand. Effortless. It’s a nice change from the usual everyday exertions.”

Morpheus’ fingers languidly caress your cheeks. His bottomless blue eyes are full of wisdom and adoration.

“I find effort to be a reliable of gauge of whether something has purpose or meaning. Everything that is worth doing requires some kind of effort,” He has adopted the whispered tone that makes his sentences sound like lullabies.

“Annoyingly, I think you may be right,” you sigh.

He releases a satisfied noise at your agreement and he lies down beside you.

“Come here.”

He initiates a slow and deep kiss. You instinctively reach for his messy, silken hair and he clings to you in a similar fashion, both of you savouring the first proper intimacy you have been able to share in many days.

Pulling away, he rests his forehead against yours. You are flooded with oxytocin and all tension in your body melts away however, despite his best intentions, you feel more awake than ever.

“Morpheus?” Your voice is croaky.

“Yes?”

“I still can't sleep.”

He laughs a precious laugh. “Let us try a different approach then, my little insomniac.”

He gently rolls you over onto your side and positions himself flush against you.

“I want you to focus on me. Feel me holding you. The sensation of my arms cradling you. My palms on your abdomen. My chest against your back.”

You do as he says, already feeling hypnotised.

“Feel my breath on your skin. Hear my voice. Inhale my scent. Taste me on your lips.”

You let out a breathy, contented noise.

“You are safe here. You can relax. Just relax your body and your mind will follow. That's it. Drift across to the Dreaming. I'll meet you there.”

His coaxing is working. You feel so very tired now.

“I love you,” you say sleepily.

“I love you too.”

You manage one more sentence. “Thank you for looking after me.”

"Always."

You nuzzle further into his embrace. His mouth brushes against the shell of your ear.

“Sleep now, my love."

#the sandman #sandman #the sandman netflix #the sandman 2022 #the sandman imagine #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fic #the sandman one shot #one shot #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #sandman x reader #the sandman x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream #morpheus/dream x reader #dream #dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #the endless #the dreaming #tom sturridge #fluff #comfort #romance #saskia writes sandman

[senditcolton]

Nights Like You

Watching your lover eat. Reaching out and wiping away any lingering food around their mouth as they place gentle kisses on your fingertips. Maybe leaning in and kissing them, tasting the lingering flavors on their lips.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 0.7k | warnings: little bit of spice

Summer nights were your favorite nights. The warmth from the bright sun still lingering in the air, the gentle breeze from the lakes, the weight of the humidity… it was always wonderful. Summer nights were also made more wonderful by the fact that your boyfriend Brady was back in Minnesota and back by your side.

Long distance relationships weren’t easy but you had made your relationship work so far. The summers you shared together were an integral part of that – they allowed the two of you to make up for lost time, as it were. And Brady… sweet, caring Brady always made the most the months you had together.

Tonight was no exception.

The state fair had returned like it did every summer and he insisted that the two of you go. Brady pulled you onto every ride, spent what seemed like his entire life savings to win you prizes at carnival games, and to top it all off, the two of you shared a cliché but romantic kiss at the top of the Ferris wheel. It was one the best nights you shared in recent memory.

The two of you were sitting in the parking lot on the tailgate of his truck, the last-minute funnel cakes you purchased in your laps, watching the fair close. The powdered sugar is sweet on your tongue and the multi-colored lights brighten up the sky and add an extra air of magic to the already perfect evening.

You turn towards Brady, a ‘thank you’ poised on your lips – thank you for this, thank you for making me happy, thank you for being the best person ever. But the words die in your throat when your eyes connect with his. His attention was already focused on you and there is this indecipherable look on his face. A million different emotions swimming in those deep brown eyes.

“What?” you ask, wanting to know what thoughts were dancing through his mind.

Brady doesn’t reply. From the corner of your eyes, you see his hand lift until his fingers come to rest underneath your chin. His thumb moves and the pad of it presses into your lips, gently wiping at the corner of your mouth. You hear him mumble something about powdered sugar and you let out a small giggle at the ridiculously sweet action.

You think that might be the end of it, but your breath hitches when Brady’s thumb moves again, this time pressing into the plumpness of your bottom lip, resting there. It is hard to tell in the nighttime, the only lights coming from the fair and the headlights around you, but you know that his eyes have taken on that darkness that always had desire pooling in your lower stomach.

It isn’t a conscious decision – your lips just pucker as you press a soft kiss onto the tip of his thumb. Even in the lingering noise of the carnival, you can hear the rumble of the low groan that escapes Brady. The sound makes you bold. You open your lips, moving your tongue to coax Brady’s thumb deeper into your mouth. You suckle it for a moment, never breaking his stare, watching his breathing quicken and you know exactly what images were forming in his mind.

The release of his thumb from your mouth is punctuated with a small pop, the digit sliding down to your chin. You can’t stop yourself from running your tongue over your lips, a mischievous smirk appearing.

“Delicious,” you whisper, potentially referencing the taste of the powdered sugar lingering on his skin but perhaps hinting at something entirely different.

Brady doesn’t give you a chance to elaborate or clarify.

In a quick motion, his hand slides down those few inches to gently grip your throat, pulling your head up towards him, his lips meeting yours in a desperate and needy kiss. You let out a soft moan, your mouth opening for Brady to slide his tongue in and brush against yours. The two of you continue to make out before finally pulling away, breathless.

There are no words spoken between you but there was no need for them. In a few quick minutes, the tailgate was closed, trash was thrown away, and you were in the passenger seat with Brady’s hand on your thigh as he drives home. As the scenery passes you by, you softly laugh as the memories already made swirl through your mind, followed by the anticipation of what was still to come.

Yeah. Summer nights were your favorite.

#nicole writes #brady skjei blurb #brady skjei fluff #carolina hurricanes blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb #valentine blurbs 2k24

[rainydayathogwarts]

I love the sound of that Spencer Reid fic, having that 180 in the readers emotions would be great to read

Our clouded ray of sunshine - Spencer Reid

IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME SO LONG TO POST ITS BEEN HALF WRITTEN FOR A MONTH AND IVE ONLY JUST GOTTEN AROUND TO FINISHING IT.

Also, this is only my second cm fic and I really want to get into it more so feel free to put in a request!! For now, I’m only going to write for Emily, Spencer and Hotch :))

In my head this is around season 3 where everyone is still a bit innocent but Rossi isn’t in this one, sorry..

@fuckbananas03 @deceased-badger @jinx-it commented for B and a few of you guys told me in my asks as well, so votes decided, Spencer Reid everyone!!

Summary: In which the reader is the sunshine of the BAU, but the team finds her having a breakdown in the parking lot after a case.

wc: 1.8k

Warnings: Mentions of murder/blood, the typical cm violence stuff, panic attack.

“I bring coffee!” You exclaim, walking into the break room the precinct let the team work in. Everyone’s eyes trail up, tired smiles forming onto their faces, as you go around the room, giving your teammates what could possibly be their last ounce of happiness. “And for you doctor.” You murmur, fishing for something in your pocket. “Extra sugar because I don’t think I’ve seen you so bitter before.” Spencer smiles, kindly taking the sugar packets from you as the others bubble with tired giggles.

“Anything new?” You ask, looking up at just about anyone who was willing to make eye contact with you. A file drops next to your coffee, which you decide to take a last sip of before opening what would inevitably be another file filled with disturbing images. “There’s another body.” Hotch says as you take a look at the images, and for a second, your heart drops. You take a sharp intake of breath, looking at whatever left can be seen of the victim. “It hasn’t been two days since the last victim. Either he’s panicking or he’s getting brave.” You say, though your eyes never leave the image of the victim. 

She looked similar to someone you’d seen. Perhaps too similar. She had the face, the body of someone you looked at every morning in the mirror. Someone you looked at through the reflection of the glass cabinets in the small BAU kitchens while you waited for your coffee. She was you. She was you, but she was cold and bloody and, well, dead.

“...he’s getting sloppy.” is all  you catch from Derek and you nod, as though reassuring yourself. “I have a sick feeling I should have had lunch before this.” You grin sheepishly and Derek shakes his head, mirroring the grimace on your face.

“I’m going to go back to the scene of the crime. Prentiss, come with me. Morgan and Jureau, please inform the family. Reid, L/N, you stay here, see if you find anything we didn’t catch. Keep in touch.” Almost unanimously, the four of them stood up, papers moving across the table and small exchanges being shared as the room emptied out, leaving you and Spencer alone.  “Just you and me this time, pretty boy.” Even though Spencer doesn’t look up from his work, taking the file from you, you can see the corner of his mouth involuntarily tugging back into the smallest of smiles.

Truthfully, Spencer worried for you. He had watched carefully as your face dropped for the quickest moment, before your eyebrows were furrowing and you were analysing the unsub’s change of M.O. For the smallest of seconds, he had seen your eyes widen, a glossy layer of fright covering them, your nostrils flaring and lips pursing in fear and recognition. 

But you would be okay. You would be okay because you were their ray of sunshine. It was you who found the sorrow felt in others and looked to lighten their mood. You would be fine because not one day came where you’d walk into the bullpen without a grin on your face and it was scientifically proven that smiling - even though you’re not happy - boosts your serotonin levels. Or at least Spencer had read.

Though no matter how hard Spencer tried to believe in that, he knew he would eventually be proven wrong at least sooner or later. So for the rest of the case, all the way until the unsub was in handcuffs, that’s what he looked out for, though he was unsuccessful. “Everything alright?” Hotch finally asked him on the jet. In a room full of profilers, someone was bound to realise that something was off with the two of you. 

Spencer didn’t look away from you, who had taken a seat away from everyone else, though he had kept your usual space next to him free. “She’s not. Or she won’t be.” The Unit Chief followed Spencer’s eyes to where you threw your head back on the headrest and let out a deep sigh. “She saw herself in the victim, which doesn’t necessarily help someone in this field of work. And she got scared, I think.” Hotch took the liberty to occupy the space facing Spencer, though he stayed silent for a moment, observing the agent as he worried about one of his closest friends. “Agent L/N is one of our emotionally strongest agents. Whatever it is she’s going through she’s going to push through it. Whether that’s alone, or by asking for help from someone.” Hotch intently looked at Spencer who broke eye contact within an instant and willed himself to open the book in his laps, though all he could do was stare at the page he was on. 

“You know what I think?” Emily starts, another cup of searing coffee in her hands. “I think we should all go out and celebrate tonight.” Derek and JJ make sounds of agreement and Hotch gives in, admitting he could use a late dinner since he has nowhere to be. “You know I wish I could but I’m just absolutely exhausted.” You start, “And I probably need to replace the flowers I have at home. They’ve probably wilted by now.” 

“Of course Ms. Little Sunshine keeps fresh flowers at home.” Derek retorts. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass tonight too.” Spencer says, making eye contact with you for the first time since you had boarded the jet. His eyebrows furrowed slightly when you averted your gaze over to Hotch, waiting for a cue to make your way out of the jet, which he freely handed over to you as he stood up, grabbing his go-bag and making his way out. “Meet in the parking in 15, we’ll sort transport.”

You followed his lead, deciding you’d rather avoid any questions or bribes from your teammates, ignoring Spencer’s hustle to reach you before anyone else, as he inevitably dropped the book he was reading on the jet. Instead of following Hotch up the building you waited for the elevator to go down to the parking where you stuffed your go bag in the back of your car.

You’d have to remember it tomorrow.

Oh god, tomorrow. Tomorrow you’d have to wake up and drive your car here where you’d have to work another case as though nothing happened. As though for a second you didn’t think it was you in that image, practically dismembered from what the murderous, rapist, serial killer had done to the body. The body that could have been yours. The body that could be yours in the future if you aren’t careful while working in the field or just going about with your day to day life.

Fuck. 

And it’s not like you’d been kidnapped before like Reid had so truly, you were being utterly ridiculous. You inhaled deeply, head falling against the car, hands tightly clutching the handle to the door. Pull it and you’d be safe.  You’d be far enough. But your mouth dried and as you licked your lips you realised you couldn’t breathe. Your heart pounded in your chest and hands shook as you frantically tried to pull the handle back. There was no use. Tears flooded your eyes, rapidly falling down your cheeks as you started to go dizzy, your vision before you blurring. And you were flying - or rather falling, your legs giving out from underneath you, hands still tightly clutching the door handle and you were on your knees. A crying mess on your knees with your head between your arms in the middle of the parking lot, completely oblivious of your teammates pinching each other to make sure they weren’t hallucinating.

“Is that-” started Emily, looking at Derek who stood beside her, quietly nodding. "I- should we?" The silence finished the question without Emily needing to finish it, though there was no evident answer to it. They'd all been in your position at some point. A crying, sobbing, hyperventilating mess with nightmares waiting to happen that would never leave your mind.

"Leave her." All heads flashed towards Spencer, eyes tearing away from you. "You guys go on, I'll get her home." No one moved apart from Garcia who was itching to get to you and give you a big hug, though that was possibly the last thing you needed at the moment. "You hear Reid, let's go." Hotch complied, his gaze trailing to Reid's, hoping to catch his eye. When he did, he nodded at him, as though apologising for not having taken any action. The boy would either hold a grudge, flashbacks of his own torn hope for a sliver of help from anyone pumping in his blood as he needed to watch one of his closest friends experience the trapped feeling of being preyed on by an invincible predator, an unstoppable force. Or he'd just ignore him until Hotch became right; that you'd get through it and heal whether it be with his help or not. Then he'd apologise to him for his behaviour and claim that he was worried for his friend.

Once the entire team was in the car, and they drove away, Spencer started to rethink his approach. Would he scare you if he just walked over? Would you be too caught up in your own mind to realise he was there by the time he got to you?

Fuck it.

His friend needed help.

He walked over, the sound of your desperate attempts to take a deep breath becoming increasingly louder as he approached you. He could see the subtle way your fingers, still tightly wrapped around the door handle twitched upwards and how your ankled rolled uncomfortably at being on your knees for so long. He mimicked your position, kneeling down next to you, an arm hesitantly coming up to rub your back.

"Y/N? It's Spencer. I'm going to take your hand okay? And... And I'm going to put it on my chest and you're going to follow my breathing okay?" He followed his own instructions, steadying himself to breathe in and out slowly, watching closely as your body loosened its tight grip on itself to allow him full control over your sanity. Slowly, your hand still on his chest, you started to follow the movement of his chest with your own. The first breath came with a tremble in your stomach, quickly followed by a loud hiccup that shook the entire parking lot. With time, you gathered the stability to look up at your car, your second hand coming down to rest in your lap as soundless tears streamed down your face.

"We should get you home." Spencer started, a hesitant hand brushing your hair away from your face, but when you looked at him, leaping into his arms and wrapping your hands around his shoulders, his face flushed darkly, and he assumed you would be spending some more time in the dark parking lot.

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