#and lastly wander (again)

[wcbweblog]

some shitty lil 1am doodles of the gang! I’m bad at drawing people but I actually kinda like how Wander turned out in the last doodle there :p

[hanaonesflower]

“Princess, can I ask you something?” He speaks, breaking the silence of the long, uneventful car ride. “Sure, anything!” You chirp, unsuspecting of what is to come.

“Why don’t you ever let me do anything for you?” Ushijima says, his eyes remain fixated on the long stretch of roads ahead. The fog heavily roll down the sides the hills on your either sides, lowering visibility. His hand tightens around the wheel, while the other grips yours.

“What do you mean by that?” You sit back, eyes wandering his features, looking for any sign that he’s just cheerfully asking you. Knowing Ushi though, he’s sometimes not as light hearted as you’d think.

“You are always so insistent on doing everything yourself. You won’t let me help you, like earlier, when you refused to let me tie your shoes. That isn’t the first time you refused my help.” He goes on a spiel, his thumb reaches to the toggle and lowers the volume, making his breathing more prominent than ever. It has occur to you that you have always been doing everything by yourself despite his looming figure always by your side. The hyperindependence is slowly starting to bother him. He wants to help you, wants to give you the fullest extent of a princess treatment yet the only thing really holding him back from that is, you.

“It’s just something that I could easily have done for myself, you didn’t need to bother with that, don’t worry, baby,” you try to comfort him, hoping some words of affirmation can help. It really isn’t a big deal, it’s some shoe laces that came undone, not a heavy errand.

As soon as the car is pulled into a parking spot at a rest stop, quickly shifting the car in “park”, turning to you and he sighs. A real sigh. One so full of frustration and… hopelessness. “I’m not bothered. It has never mattered how big or small anything is, I want to do everything for you. Why are you holding yourself back from me?” He is starting to put things into perspective for you. After going through a useless ex-boyfriend, then a man who gave you hot and cold attention, lastly a guy who gave you princess treatment to fill his inflated ego before meeting Ushijima, learning to only rely on yourself has been the protector of your heart, your soul and your sanity. You find that by depending on your good ol’ self is the only way to prevent yourself from throwing your body off a bridge.

“Ushi, it’s not—,” before you can finish your sentence, truthfully you don’t really know what to say. He’s right, you are holding yourself back from him. Holding yourself back from the hurt that you’ve known all too well, he interrupts, holding both your hands in his, “baby, you’re my priority, my everything, your well-being, happiness and comfort are my main concerns and I want it to be that way,” he stops, taking a breath. Reminiscent of the times where Ushijima offered to go so out of his way to help you but being kindly turned down has left him feeling absolutely useless and uneasy. Ushijima’s love language is act of service and because he hasn’t been able to do the bare minimum for you, he feels it eating him alive.

“I am aware of your past, I know that I can’t change what was, but I’m here to make a difference now, I mean it!” You are moved by his words, he means what he says and you know it. You’ve seen it. He’s a big man of his words, always keeping promises, has never ever disappointed you in any way. Yet the walls have been reinforced many times again that it has cemented itself in your life, creating a barrier between the two of you. “I want to open doors for you, pull out chairs for you, pick you up from a friend’s house, drop you off at the airport, all of that, please, baby, please just let me.” You have to say, it is like he is begging for you to allow him in, allow him to integrate further into your system, a system you’ve built to keep you from going down a slippery slope time and time again.

“I’m so grateful for you, Ushi, you’ve done so much for me, you really have. I just feel like I can’t be asking for anymore than what you’ve already given me,” before you can inhale a full breath, he branches his body over to your side of the car and kisses you deeply, so deeply that you melt. “I’m at your disposal, you are my world, let me in, don’t keep shutting me out,” he says, breaking away from the kiss.

You chuckle, “yes, Wakatoshi, I accept your offer,” and you’ve never seen him smile wider. A big, toothy grin coming from the infamously stoic dude. He kisses you again, “thank you, baby.”

He unbuckles your seatbelt, hastily running from his side to yours and opening the door for you, and just like the universe is rooting for the both of you, your shoe laces come undone, again.

[deadghosy]

PLATONIC/ROMANTIC SLYTHERIN BOYS X LOVE WITCH/WIZARD! READER

Ft. The riddles, Draco malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott,&& Lorezno Berkshire

I appreciate reblogs, comments, and such as likes.

Tom Riddle

Makes you break couples up…🙁 please he gives off hater vibes on valentines days he don’t play.

He would especially make you break up that one couple that shows too much pda to the point Tom wants to Avada Kedavra himself. He literally points and says….

“Them..do your little love spells and break their pathetic hearts.”

Poor Tom just wants to go on with his day without hearing kissing noise.

Though he do wanders what your lips taste would taste on his.

Mattheo Riddle

Always pestering you to get him a date. Hell, he even woke you up straight on Valentine’s Day so you could help him find one.

Even for the yule ball…it was annoying.

“Are you sure you can’t make a love spell to work only for tonight?” Mattheo says, walking by you in the halls. You swiftly turn around with an annoyed expression. “Matt…please shove a sock in your mouth. I can’t force love, I can coach for sure. But force isn’t a good thing.” You lastly said. Leaving the Slytherin male to think to himself.

It took a few days for him to start to flirt with you. At first it didn’t work but then it started to.

Ending up with you two dating, oddly mattheo stopped talking about love which made you ask him.

Only for him to say this, “I stopped talking about love because you took it all.” Cheeky bastard…

Draco Malfoy

He’s just like Tom. He hates seeing pda from strangers. But for him he doesn’t mind showing you affection in public

A hypocrite I must say.

But he love show you do help couples with their relationship problems. He find it usual if you two ever get into an argument.

He’s curious, is he not? He goes into your so called “love office” and checks out your potions only to accidentally drop one called “obsession” on two rats who started to mate aggressively.

He was traumatized and never went inside your office again.

Blaise Zabini

Teases you a lil for being a love witch/wizard.

At first he thought you were joking to be one, but when you show your own magic he was amazed

Now he wants to watch all your sessions so can give his own love advice

Of course he credits you🫶🏾💕

If mattheo asked Blaise to steal a potion so he make two animals fall in love

He would either do it out of pure curiosity or just say no. You trust him a lot and even gave him a spare key for your office.

Theodore Nott

He would be a slight hater towards couple showing pda in public because he’s jealous he doesn’t that kind of love.

Would immediately sneak into your love office and try to do a “compatibility test” so he can see if you two are match

Would ask you a lot of damn questions of what do girls like in a guy and what do guys like in a girl. He just wants to know!

Probably asks if you do sex therapy.

Now that made him kicked out of your office.

He’s probably banned for life too🧍🏾

Lorenzo Berkshire

“Can you get me a date?”

Is what the poor boy would say to you. And sadly you decline as love is made within itself.

Lorenzo, being a slight hopeless Romantic and you being the romantic wizard/witch you are. Is quite a duo.

But despite everything, he wants to be your apprentice. Be finds your magic spells and potions very intriguing.

“Which spell works for this couple?”

“…break that one up. They’re so toxic.”

[astralnymphh]

neck kissing with ellie.

gif creds: elenaxnate/tumblr. short indulgent fic :P romance/fluff.

Like a bee to nectar. Kids to sugar. Sunflowers to sunlight. Your neck is a preserved pollen: captivating, entrancing—it entrances that reddish-haired beau prancing around your kitchen searching for warmth. Branches to perch. Nooks to kiss.

Dying suns encapsulate the hours she feeds; in the evenings, devotion. At your neck, a prayer.

"Wish you'd lay the work off after dinner. Told you I'd get it," she kisses you there, too sweetly.

Cheeky prayers, muffled in your ear, and more so mundane covets. To save you trouble, is her duty. To prove her fondness, is her life's dream. And you never found your place amongst her forests to learn and understand why fleeting dreams of you are what motivated her all those years ago. First at your service, then your door, then your hands, lastly your neck.

For all you know, minds assume reason, and instinct falls short of it. Now, in the resign of autumn, reason dies, and tendency prevails. Tender tendencies.

"Why not together then?" you suggest every once in a while, and your tone curls as you do, "Dishes would get done much faster with four hands."

You fail to see it, but her eyes smile. "Because you distract me," laughingly, she says.

She isn't lying; your presence abstracts her thoughts, and the threads of what she was going to accomplish tangle and fray. Be it reading, painting, or guitar— a cacophony of silvers, oaks and water will languish her focus, and suddenly phantom imagery of you and whatever it is you're doing fills her every nerve. Contemplation departs.

But she loves to distract you more.

And because her laughs are stuffed in the crevice binding neck and shoulder, you giggle too. Not because her words are ticklish, or laughable—other days, her silly dad puns are— but because all you can feel is her mouth and her teeth and her chest to your back and everywhere her hands wander and fuck is it overwhelming. Almost facetious that she is doing it intentionally. An elaborate ruse to convince you time is worth wasting.

Her intentions lie between the fangs. Amusedly love-biting.

It fosters a slight shiver, a love-cringe. "Ellie," you weakly release, and roll your shoulders up as a way to peel her off. "That tickles.."

Don't you dare, babe.

Her nips get noisier. "'Spose to.." she insists in a whisper, laying the boundaries for her lips. They creep up, and up, leaping after your shy-away. "Do you hate this?"

"So much." you quip.

"Then it's working," her breathy giggle is hot against you, and it's contagious. A sound you want to eat and nourish from. "Will this take long?" Doubt already inhabits that antsy tone of hers. "I can't wait to show you what I found on patrol. Like, seriously can't wait."

"Can the kissing wait?"

".."

"Right."

"Shut up," her brows tweak against you, mouthing sass. "Pretend 'm not here," speech dimming, her lips lower into you once more, and find reason again. They pucker, suck, and pepper across plains of damp skin gone cold. Hungrily pulling the taste of your skin through her teeth, and down her throat; soft animalism.

It never stops—she never stops. Not for the moon, not for the sun, not for breath or silence.

"You're weird."

You can feel the evidence forming on your skin already. Phantom marks she embeds so she can admire them later. Revisit and reintroduce her tongue to them in bed.

"I know."

[giuliettagaltieri]

A River of Honey

Pairing: Husband!Gojō x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Navigating through life with your husband and son who both seemed to have developed an appetite for something only you can provide.

Warning: breastfeeding, mild lactation kink, innuendos

Word Count: 1142

With the two of you being forced into a marriage you did not want, it was difficult to coexist with each other, let alone initiate anything between you.  Your two-year marriage did end up with you having an 8-month old son as Gojō is only a man, ever so vulnerable to the natural charm of a woman.  But aside from sharing a child, you have nothing else that binds you to each other.

But lately, his crystalline blue eyes have been wandering to your ample bosom much too often.

Being in the Gojō estate house, you had to follow a few rules.

One is that you are never allowed to speak ill of your husband and your family.

You must not meet any man unaccompanied.

Entering the council hall is strictly forbidden.

Your hair must be in a specific bun, adorned with ornaments to symbolize status.

And lastly, you must follow the traditional dress code.

Most of the time, you wore kimonos, all having the colors of the Gojō banners.  It was their way of branding you as theirs.  And your husband did not like that.  But you, well it always reminded you of his eyes so you cannot bring yourself to complain.

During the course of your pregnancy, your husband protested about making you wear heavy fabric when it was too hot.  They did not relent.

So, your husband took it upon himself to rid your closet with the intricate kimonos and obi.  He threw them all in the cold of the night through your window, and shot a blast of cursed energy on the pile just for good measure.

From then on, your kimonos were lighter.  You did not have to wear multiple layers.  And even after you gave birth, the clan decided not to test their luck and just let you wear whatever is comfortable for you.  After all, you gifted the family a promising heir.  One that looked exactly like the master of the house, an exact replica of his father.

Gojō leaned on a tree in your garden one day, his legs stretched out in front of him.  He was watching you as you sat by the pond with your little boy on your lap, pointing at the koi fish that swam by.

“No.”  He hears you chuckle.  “We don’t eat them.”

As Gojō expected, a tiny frown forms on your son’s face the moment you said ‘no’, his lips wobbling and he turns to his father as if silently asking for rescue.

You sigh as you stand up.  “Wanna come to dada?”  Upon hearing this, your son hesitates and his tiny fists tighten on your sleeves.  But before he can protest, you drop his bum on Gojō’s lap.

“Hey there, bud.”  Gojō grins but the little boy doesn’t respond to him as his eyes remain trained on you as you sit next to your husband and pick up the book you brought with you earlier.

A poke to your son’s cheek finally made him look at his father, with a slightly irritated look in addition to his in-distressed expression.

“Mama’s not upset.”  Gojō says as he smoothens the hair of the child.  “She’s only teasing.”

Your son thinks for a moment and slumps on his father’s chest, his cheeks squished as he looks at your face.  Waiting for you to confirm it.  But you pretend not to hear as you turn the page on your book.  You’re not going to tolerate this attitude, you don’t need two spoiled Gojōs.

“Lighten up, Satoshi.  We’ll get you a non-koi fish to eat later.”  Gojō tried again, his grin widening every moment.

But Satoshi scowls at his father and shook his head. 

“Oh?  You don’t want to eat fish anymore?”

His son shook his head once more.

“What do you want to eat then?”  Gojō scratched his head.  “Want some taiyaki?”

Satoshi glares at his father.  “No!” 

Gojō’s eyebrows rise slowly.  “Come again?”

A red hue appears on Satoshi’s nose and judging by the large gulp of air he took, a wail is most certainly coming.

“MAMA!”  He bawls, his hands outstretched to you as large tears spill to his cheeks. 

Gojō grimaces, quickly handing you your son.  “Alright go to mama.”

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh as you drop your book to the side to cradle your baby.  He buries his face to your chest, soaking your kimono.  You rub his back in a soothing manner.

“What a crybaby.”  Gojō laughs, making his son glare at him behind his tears.

“Don’t listen to dada.”  You smile while smooching Satoshi’s chubby cheek.  “Stop crying now, I’ll ask them to make you something good to eat, okay?”

Satoshi looks at you with apprehension. 

“What?”  You smile sweetly.

He looks away from you and his tiny baby hands play with your kimono making you laugh.

“You have to talk, Satoshi.”  You say even though you know what he’s doing.

“Milk mama.”  He mumbles while he fiddles with his fingers.

After looking around your garden and not seeing anyone, you shift your kimono to the side and unbutton your nursing bra showing your lush breast and still puffy nipple.  Satoshi latches instantly.  His eyes become droopy almost immediately, breastfeeding is becoming a swift sleep inducer to him.

You turn to your unusually quiet husband and see just in time how he stared at your bosom with his pupils dilating as he swallowed audibly.  Warmth ran through your body and you looked away quickly, pretending that you saw none of it.

“That’s really convenient huh.”  He spoke, his voice a few timbres deeper.  “You just unbutton and your teat is out.”

“Mhm.”  You hum as you play with a lint on your lap.

Gojō wets his lips and he tries to look away but his eyes often wander to you every now and then.  You see his leg bouncing slightly in a steady motion.  And his hand raked his hair way too much that it started sticking out to multiple angles.

“I should put Satoshi back in his room.”  You say softly after you unlatched your son and tidied your clothes.

Gojō is quick to stand and offer his hand to you.  “I’ll come too.”

You thanked him and walked side by side with him.  He doesn’t tolerate you walking behind him.  

You smiled at him gratefully as he opened the door to Satoshi’s room and placed the pillows around your son’s crib.  Gojō pretends to look interested in a furby, as your neckline dips while putting your son down.  His heart softened when you smoothed his hair as you whispered, “I love you”.

He guided you out of the room and you are about to head back to your garden when his arm finds your waist and you are being led to your bedroom instead.

“My turn now, mama.”

Where the Blue Roses Grow

[voonroo]

Hell?

⌐‣Hazbin Hotel x teen reader (platonic)

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

Hot.

Hot.

Hot.

Hot.

Hot.

Why the fuck is it so hot.

Damn.

Everything hurts.

I don't want to open my eyes…

You were met with the sounds of screeching tires, crackling fire, yelling, and many other chaotic noises. It was as if the world was falling apart at the seams.

Opening your eyes, you quickly notice that you could hardly see. This place you are in is so different from what you knew. Wait- what did you know?

Standing up and almost stumbling, you felt as if everything you had ever known was slipping from your fingers. From your brain. What was my name again?

God, everything’s blurry.

Why is it so loud?

My heart is beating. Very loud, loud.

I don't like how loud it is…

Your breathing was uneven, and the stress began to show on your face. You looked down at the clothes you were wearing. What?

You were wearing basic black and red plaid pajama pants. A black tank top with wide arm holes that reached almost down the whole shirt length. You could feel your undergarments touching your body under your clothes.

I don't like this.

Something about these clothes makes me feel insanely claustrophobic.

I need to change.

God, I can't see shit in front of me.

You began to stumble around. You felt so on balance but so off balance at the same time. It was fucking nauseating

You couldn't see for shit but you could hear everything going on around you. All the different noises clashing with each other to the point of being unable to distinguish the direction they're coming from.

You're frozen in place when you hear a voice call out to you in the chaos.

“Damn kid- you alright?”

The voice sounded like a man… but it was so hard to tell with everything around you. There were screams.

“Kid.” The voice sounded a lot closer.

Your eyes darted in front of you, wandering aimlessly in hopes of being able to clearly see who was talking to you.

“Wha—” You felt short of breath. “Who?” Your breathing and the sound of your thundering heart made it so hard to focus on what was happening around you.

“You ain't lookin’ too hot kid. You just roll in?” The voice sounded both worried and not at the same time, but then again it's not like you could really care. You were a bit more focused on trying to not have a meltdown if things didn't start clearing up.

“What? What do you mean?”

There was a beat of silence from the man.

“I mean are you new here? In hell?”

Hell?

“What do you mean hell?”

“Damn, kid! Are you blind? Look around and tell me this doesn't look like hell!”

Knowing you wouldn't be able to see, you swiveled your head around in hopes that, maybe, you'd be able to see clearly for the first time in what felt like forever, even if it's only been a few minutes. But to no one's surprise, you couldn't. Everything was still blurry. You could feel your anxiety spike.

“I can't see.” Your voice wobbled with uncertainty.

“Oh, so you are blind…” The voice sounded quiet now. There was silence from the man and from you as well. Hopefully staring at the man, you spoke in his direction. Your voice growing shaky due to stress.

“I can't see shit, what I can hear is so loud that I can't distinguish shit, my back hurts like shit, and apparently, I'm in hell!” You let out in a small outburst.

This situation is so… so entirely frustrating.

I still want to- no I need to change into something.

I feel so itchy in these clothes.

Subconsciously, you scratched at your arms, only to recoil in shock when you felt fur. Not skin. Fur. That must have been the final nail in the coffin for your nerves.

The poor voice (hopefully) in front of you, was not prepared for the following,

You, letting out a high-pitched animal-like shriek.

You, frantically looking around even if you couldn't see.

And lastly, you were fainting.

The voice felt so bad for what had just happened in front of him, even if he didn't contribute much to your shock, seeing someone as young-looking as you in hell and then passing out on the side of the streets. He did the only thing he could think of.

He brought back you to the hotel.

The only place he thought was safe enough for a kid to be in hell.

.

Word Count: 755

[xi4ohuhu]

Right in the Ferris Wheel?!:

Scaramouche smut is back again!!

Seems like Scaramouche couldn’t resist taking you right then and there in the Ferris Wheel, oh my… (College au, praise kink, public sex, slight degradation kink too, word “daddy” is used thrice to address Scara, dom!scara, sub!female!reader, spanking, doggy-style, !!Scara and user are both 20!!)

Pairing with your classmate for a field trip to the amusement park, Scaramouche, wasn’t so bad after all. The both of you have tried out so many things like the ring toss game, shooting games, Whac-A-Mole and even eating a huge cotton candy! Winning prizes like a huge pink teddy bear, a black bat that represented Scaramouche and lastly, a mole with a silly grin spread across its face. Now, the last on the list was the Ferris Wheel which was the one you were excited about since you could see a breathtaking view of the whole amusement park from above.

Though, Scaramouche did confess to you earlier, realising that he was in love with you after spending half a day with you at the amusement park. He didn’t expect to have this much fun with you, and you had to admit, you didn’t either. So you accepted his confession and returned it, nodding as a sign that you’d now become his lover. Arriving at the entrance, you quickly snatched a Kuromi and Melody plushie when the attendant mentioned they were the last two on the hook for free. Chuckling, Scaramouche praised you for your quick instincts and thinking, accepting the Kuromi plushie that you handed to him because it apparently represented him more than the Melody one. Cute, now you’re matching with your boyfriend!

The two of you boarded the cart, you sitting on Scaramouche’s lap as he pulled you down while he sat on one of the seats, both of the plushies sitting on your lap. Once the Ferris Wheel started to move, you looked in awe at the breathtaking view of the whole amusement park from high up, relishing in the vibrant colours and the crowds of people. Though, you suddenly snapped out of your thoughts when you felt something poking your inner thighs. Then, a blush crept up your cheeks as well as a tiny, soft gasp escaping your throat when you realised what it was. Was Scaramouche seriously hard right now? But oh, if only you knew the thoughts running through his mind right now. He wanted to bend you right over the seats and take you right then and there, perhaps a quickie in the Ferris Wheel wouldn’t hurt, right? No one could see the both of you because the windows were built with a special type of glass, no one could see you two from the outside while you two could see from the inside. Besides, you were wearing such a short skirt, how could he resist?

————-SMUT!!—————

Scaramouche let his hands wander all over your body, feeling every curve through the fabric of your skirt. The sights of the amusement park was nothing compared to the thrill of having you squirming on his lap. Your soft gasp was music to his ears, and you could feel his cock twitch in anticipation against your inner thighs. “Fuck, love, you feel that?” He whispered huskily, his breath hot against your neck. “That’s how hard you make me, just by being this close to me.” His fingers danced up your thigh, teasing the hem of your skirt, his voice dripping with desire. “You wanna play a riskier game than Whac-A-Mole, sweetheart? ‘Cause I’m game for a round of ‘hide the cock’ right here, right now.”

Scaramouche’s hands were bold and unapologetic as they slipped beneath your skirt, his fingertips lightly brushing against your panties. “Look at all those people down there, clueless about all the filthy things we’re gonna do up here in our little sky-high fuck pod.” He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle… At first. But you and I both know you’ll be begging for it harder by the time this ride is over.”

With a deft movement, Scaramouche pushed your panties aside, his fingers finding your wet, ready pussy. He teased your clit with a rough stroke, his other hand gripping your hip to pull you closer against his throbbing erection. “Shit, you’re soaking through your cute little panties,” he hissed, pleasure lacing his voice. “You want my cock that bad, huh? Want me to fuck you right here, with all these people below us none the wiser?”

Scaramouche didn’t wait for you to answer; the hunger in your eyes was all the confirmation he needed. Lifting you up slightly, he unzipped his pants with his free hand, freeing his hard cock. With a swift movement, he guided you down onto him, his eyes locked with yours as he filled you completely. “That’s it, ride me just like that,” he urged, his voice a low command. “Bounce on my cock and make those plushies dance.”

Each movement of the Ferris Wheel mirrored the rhythm, the cart creaking softly with the combined movements. Scaramouche’s breaths were heavy, mingling with your gasps as the both of you moved together in a frenzied, covert coupling. The thrill of the potential exposure only intensified the experience, each thrust a promise of pleasure and danger, passion soaring as high as the wheel itself. “Fuck, you feel so good, so tight around me,” Scaramouche panted, his grip on you tightening. “I’m not gonna last long with you clenching around me like that, darling. But let’s see if I can make you cum before the wheel goes down, hm?”

You moaned, leaning forward to rest your arms on the opposite seats as you arched your back, riding Scaramouche like there was no tomorrow. You could feel his cock twitching and throbbing inside of you, his thick length completely filling you up. The plushies rested near your arms on the opposite seats too, their innocent expressions a huge contrast to the passionate lovemaking. Your moans and his grunts echoed throughout the space of the cart, the windows fogging up with the intensity of the passionate lovemaking. Your breasts bounced with each and every thrust through your top, the sight heightening Scaramouche’s arousal even more, your hips moving and grinding on top of him. He could see the way his thick length showed through your tummy as a bulge, the way your walls tightened around him whenever he praised you.

“Oh, God, Scara… More, fuck me harder, faster, make everyone know who I belong to. I’ll be so fucking good for you, I’ll be a good girl. Make me scream your name in this Ferris wheel, cum inside me and mark me as yours. Please, spank me, Daddy.” You managed to choke out between your moans, your voice cracking into a plea. Your walls clenched around him, milking him for all he was worth, signalling your incoming orgasm. You continued to ride him relentlessly, your ass bouncing and jiggling against Scaramouche’s pelvis. You’d gasp every time he squeezed and spanked you, Scaramouche was an ass guy, so the sight of your ass cheeks already reddening beautifully with his handprints was so fucking hot it threatened to push him over the edge as your grip tightened on the opposite seats. Your flexibility was a god-sent, your legs embracing Scaramouche’s hips as you arched your back. You would for sure have a hard time sitting down now! Not that you were complaining, of course…

Scaramouche's eyes darkened with lust as he watched your body move in rhythm with his own, your moans a siren's call drawing him deeper into the abyss of pleasure. The sight of your tits bouncing through your top, straining against the fabric, was enough to drive any man wild—and Scaramouche was no exception. "Shit, you're such a filthy little thing, aren't you?" he snarled, his hands moving to grip your hips, guiding your movements to meet his fierce thrusts. "Begging for it, just like a good slut should. You think you can handle me going all out? 'Cause I'm not holding back anymore." With that, he started fucking you with renewed ferocity, each thrust punctuated by the sound of skin slapping against skin. The cart rocked violently with the movements, the Ferris wheel oblivious to the carnal act taking place within.

"You want to be spanked, huh? You want Daddy to turn that pretty little ass of yours cherry red?" Scaramouche’s hand came down hard on your cheek, the sound echoing in the small space, your skin stinging delightfully from the contact. "That's right, take it like the good girl you are. You're mine, sweetheart, all fucking mine," he growled, his voice laced with possession. As your walls clenched around him, he could feel your orgasm approaching fast, your pussy milking him like it was made for his cock alone. He reached around to your clit, rubbing it in rough, fast circles, determined to send you over the edge. "Come on, baby, cum for Daddy. Let go and let everyone hear who owns this tight little pussy," Scaramouche commanded, his fingers working you mercilessly. "Scream my name so loud that everyone below wonders who the fuck is making you lose your mind."

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, your back arching as you screamed his name, the sound of your pleasure filling the cart. Scaramouche wasn't far behind, feeling his own climax building at the base of his spine. "Fuck, baby, I'm gonna fill you up so good," he hissed, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With a few more powerful strokes, he buried himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his load, marking you as his with each spurt of cum.

Breathless and spent, the two of you clung to each other as the Ferris wheel continued its lazy rotation, the outside world none the wiser to the debauchery that had just taken place. Scaramouche nuzzled into your neck, a wicked smile playing on his lips. "Best fucking ride of my life, indeed."

————-THE END————

Jacq’s notes: helloo, sorry I haven’t been posting much lately I’ve been rlly busy with my work. Thanks for reading till the end, the next fanfic might be a possible Xiao one so please don’t hesitate to request. Until then, stay tuned sillies :3

[allfearstofallto]

Prying Eyes

Yandere Scaramouche x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Synopsis: Such things as privacy don't exist when you're married to Scaramouche

TW: yandere, obsessive themes, violence, oral (m. receiving), non-con, very harsh words (just Scara talking)

You always appreciated the fact that Scaramouche let you have a separate bedroom. When you asked for it, head bowed and hands trembling in fear of how he'd respond, you remember thinking that he'd punish you for not wanting to be in his presence every hour of the day.

But much to your surprise, he merely thought on it for a second, then nodded, “Yes, that would be fine.”

Your eyes widened to the size of saucers. You wholly went into this expecting him to say no, and you thought he was going to. There was no harm in asking, you told yourself, but there was harm. Scaramouche had the most ruthless punishments for you, his “doting wife,” and you were subjecting yourself to the idea of one, just for the opportunity, the opportunity that you actually got.

“Are-are you sure, my lord?” You stuttered, you weren't sure if he'd heard you correctly and your mouth went dry knowing that he could take this back away from you thinking it as a misunderstanding.

“Must you constantly ask questions?” He sighed in annoyance, “I agreed upon it so it will be done. Go and bring me a maid.”

You turned on your heels quickly while also trying not to seem to excited. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest, you were sure it would lurch out of your throat.

Your hand was nearly on the sliding door when he spoke again, “Wait,” he ordered. And you did. Still as a board and stuck in place. His word was law. He said jumpand you'd ask how high. He said wait and you didn't dare ask how long. If you were waiting for him, you were expected to be enthusiastic about it.

You looked back to face his, his expression still as unreadable as usual, “Yes, my lord?”

“You've forgotten something,” his finger was gently patting his delicate cheek.

A kiss was pressed against his face, something he seemed to enjoy from you. But there was a little more emotion pit into it this time, a bit of a more expressive kiss on his cheek, showing how happy this made you. And the slight blush on his face told you that he was happy too.

Your room was at the very end of the hall. It wasn't your room just yet. There were no empty spaces in the balladeer's home, a former supply closet was to be cleaned out for you. But anything was better than nothing.

Of course, nothing was without it's rules and Scaramouche had a few. If he requested you spend the night in his bed, you would, no ifs ands or buts. Your room was also to stay open to him, if he wanted entry, he'd have it, no matter the time of day. And lastly, he didn't want you to spend all day in your room. You were still expected to come out and wander the house, and most specifically, greet him throughout the day.

All of those rules sounded like nothing to you, easy feats considering how strict Scara typically was with you.

“I'm doing this for you because I want to trust you. Do you understand?” he said the day your room was completed. His words fell on deaf ears as you looked over the area in awe. Scaramouche spared no expenses when it came to you and it showed in the expensive, handcrafted furniture that was given to you as well.

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance at your lack of a response and to get your attention back, he grabbed you by the cheeks and made you look at him, “Just as easily as this was given to you, it can be taken away. This is a privilege, not a right,”

“Yes, my lord, I apologize,”

Your answer was enough to suffice and he released you, but not without swiping a finger across your lips first, a sign that he was going to want more than a kiss on the cheek later.

Much to your surprise, he left you to your own vices. Saying he'd see you at dinner and to enjoy your room. Those words were by far the best thing he could ever say to you, that and “I'm sorry for thinking that I was in love with you, you're free to go.” But that would never happen.

You sat at the desk you were gifted, the chair was possibly the most comfy place you'd sat your butt. Thick and soft enough to sleep in if you truly wanted to. And you did want to. You wanted to do whatever you wanted to, because he wasn't there to stop you.

Your journal was pulled from where you'd hidden it on your body. For the longest time, your journal was your solace. It was a little booklet that you'd found in Scaramouche's office and it was where you stored your thoughts, your escape plans, where you screamed into the void and didn't let the void scream back. It was your only comfort.

The book was flipped open and placed on the desk and you began to write in it. All your thoughts, all your feelings, everything was in this book. You were never truly one for writing before you got in this situation, but after, words were all you had.

There was a gentle knock at your door. The fact that someone was knocking at all told you that it wasn't Scaramouche. Your book was placed into a drawer, the first place you could think to hide it, and you told the person to come in.

“Good evening, my lady,” a maid bowed to you. All the maids in the manor looked the same. That's because that's what Scara wanted. They had the same haircut and they wore the same clothes and shoes. When they moved around, they kept their heads lowered to obscure their faces and they all spoke in a whispery tone, it was like he'd managed to hire the exact same woman thirty times.

“Good evening,” you replied back. You didn't bow to her in return. No matter how much your husband berated and scolded you, he insisted that you were better than the employees, and that you were not to lower your head to them.

“The Lord requests your presence in the dining room,” she said in a hushed tone, “He would like to eat dinner now.”

You looked out the window, by the way the sun hung in the sky, it didn't even seem close to dinner time, “Now?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The Lord will be leaving for a trip before nightfall, he wants to partake in his dinner early and he wants you there with him,”

Of course his selfishness would force you to have to eat your dinner early as well. But you didn't complain, it was not like there was anything the maid could do anyways. You stepped up from your chair and walked past her. In your disappointment and anger at having to leave your little safe space, you didn't notice that she'd lingered behind.

Scaramouche left that night after dinner, another one of those many trips he took that you weren't allowed to join him on. Fifteen nights of peace, as you called it, fifteen nights of your own thoughts and feelings.

But all good things had to come to an end, and he returned home on the sixteenth day, bearing his usual gift of a flower from whatever nation he visited and a new tea for you to drink.

“Did you miss me?” He asked with an arm around your waist and you resisted the urge to gag in his face.

“Always, my lord,” was your answer instead.

You watched as he walked up the stairs and to his office, then you went back to your own room. The whole time you were gone, that's where you tried to stay as much as possible. Between your mandatory lessons that Scaramouche made you take in etiquette and skills, there was time to sit and enjoy the peace of your room. To bask in a sunlight that felt like your own, to write in your journal without the fear of him peeking over your shoulder.

Another knock at your door and a maid stepped into your room, “Good evening, my lady. The Lord requests that you bed with him tonight.”

You sighed. That was all you could do. Just sigh and take it. In order to keep the “luxury” of your own bedroom, you had to do what he ordered. And what he ordered was his night of bedding together.

If it wasn't for his piss poor personality, stalkerish tendencies, and jealousy to the point of obsession, the indigo haired man would actually be rather attractive. That's what you thought as you stepped into his bedroom and saw him sitting on the bed, his kimono open, and his eyes on you hungrily. Skin like porcelain and sharp eyes that practically shone in moonlight.

“Come. Sit with me,” he patted the bed beside him. Your steps were with purpose, head held high while you made your way across the room. You sat next to him as he ordered, then wrapped your arms around his thin waist and rested your head on his lap, facing away from him. He didn't ask for that, but he always loved when you went above and beyond for him.

“That room of yours must be rather pleasant, you've been agreeable lately,” he spoke while patting your head.

“I enjoy it, my lord,”

He merely hummed and continued to pat you. Against your cheek, you could feel him hardening in his pants, the last sign you needed that this would not turn into a night of just sleeping until sunrise.

“Am I…satisfying you tonight, my lord,” you asked quietly and hoped that the answer would be no.

“You wish to taste the cum that makes you wish that you could slice your own tongue off?”

His words were spoken so casually, so calm and collected, that you almost didn't register what he'd said. But sure enough, he'd said it. Said a sentence that sounded familiar to you. Said something that you'd written.

“i-i apologize, my lord, but I believe I misheard you?” You began to raise your head from his lap, but his hand on the back of your head changed from loving pets to firmly gripping your hair, and your face was pushed back down.

“Misheard? No. I think I read every word correctly,” you opened your mouth to speak, but he continued talking, “Sex with me makes you disgusted, you couldn't get aroused if you tried.”

Every word made his grip on your hair get tighter and tighter, until it felt like he was going to rip your scalp from your skulls. Tears welled in your eyes. From the pain, from the fear, from the shock. He truly knew everything you'd written, even if he wasn't around.

“W-wait! Please! My lord!” You sobbed, but he didn't falter. Tears soaked the fabric of his hakama, yet his erection was still hard and twitching, your face being pushed even closer to it.

He continued to speak as he opened his pants, freeing his cock and rubbing it against your trembling lips, “But your disgust with me isn't all that's there, is it?” You whimpered as the salty precum forced its way into your mouth, mixing with your tears until you couldn't tell the taste of the two apart anymore, “Answer me!”

“N-no-” there wasn't even an opportunity to finish what you were saying, the second your mouth was open for more than crying, he forced his way into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat immediately.

“You were going to leave me weren't you. You were going to try to,” he spoke between pants as he fucked your mouth, still gripping your hair so tightly it was giving you a headache, “I'll give you credit, some of those ideas were thought on for a long time. Seducing a guard? My, aren't you a minx?”

You gagged and choked on his dick, sobbing between every thrust, but trying not to black out at the same time. Every time he fucked into the back of your throat, you saw stars behind your eyes, all you could do was breathlessly beg around his cock for him to stop, to forgive you.

Your head was held down, keeping his length all the way down your throat. The way you sputtered didn't deter him, his grip didn't loosen, even when you hit and scratched his thighs.

A tear was wiped from your eyes. A gesture that would've been considered tender, but his other actions made it seem meaningless, “You really are a stupid little thing,” he degraded you in such a sweet, but vicious tone. With your head still pressed flush against his lap, he started a slower pace of thrusting his hips up into your mouth, “You truly think that you can get away from me? That you can pretend to hate me? I'm merciful to only you, yet you don't appreciate it.”

His cock twitched inside your mouth a few times, followed by a loud groan from him. He threw his head back, gasping as his body twitched through an orgasm. His cum shot out of his cock too quickly for you to even attempt to swallow it down and there was so much, it spilled from your lips.

You could only imagine what you looked like when your head was pulled from his cock, your face covered in tears, drool, and cum. You were panting and sobbing, still trying to beg for his forgiveness.

“Your room will be locked and your little diary destroyed,” he used his still firm grip on your head to make you look at you, “You'll burn the book yourself and I want you to be the one to lock the door, it's only fair.”

Through little hics and sobs, you could only ask one question, “H-how…?” How did he know? How did he find out?

“I'll have eyes on you, always on you, for as long as you live,”

[skulldetergent]

ghost scar headcanons (CW for his backstory)

no tattoo/no text version & explanation under the cut

CW⚠️ discussion of child abuse, torture, self harm & sa

since i headcanon ghost to have quite a few scars, i decided to make a "character sheet" or "scar map" to keep my art more consistent.

in the drawing, the scars are already labeled and i think pretty self-explanatory, but i will go into some more detail and elaborate on my headcanons. again, please read the content warning. i did my best at trying to discuss the following in a sensitive way, but it may be upsetting to read nonetheless.

let's begin with the ones that say "mission". i imagined they are just random scars he sustained during his service over the years, like gunshot scars or knife slashes from close combat.

but others like "roba's hook", the autopsy scar, tally marks, the whip scars and his glasgow smile are from during the time where he was captured and tortured. i headcanon reboot ghost to have pretty much the same backstory as OG ghost, with some slight differences and additions of my own.

things like the glasgow smile or tally marks are made up by me, and others like the being hanged from his ribs actually happened (comics). ghost was also canonically sexually assaulted multiple times, which gave me the idea of said tally marks to emphasise how cruel his captors were.

correct me if i'm wrong, but in the comics ghost doesn't have any scars after being tortured, any cuts shown on his body just cease to exist a few panels later. but considering what he was put through, i do think that there would be permanent scarring.

now, it's also canon that ghost was abused by his father in ways like him bringing large animals such as snakes in his room to scare him, or having him watch a woman die from OD, which made me consider what the full extent of his terrible father's "parenting" must've looked like.

ghost has a small, almost faded scar under his eye, he was too young to remember how he got it, only finding out when his mother told him. his father was being neglectful when he was supposed to watch him, and simon injured himself while wandering around.

now, it is unclear in the comics if mr. riley's abuse was purely psychological, or if it extended to physical as well (again, correct me if i'm wrong). but i didn't find it unrealistic to have the latter be the case, which is why simon has cigarette burn scars on his neck and legs. his father found it amusing under the guise of "making him a man" and seeing how long little simon could take it before he would start crying. nowadays the burns are barely visible.

and lastly, the self harm scars covered up by the tattoo sleeve on his left arm. considering what simon had to go through at an early age, it is not unlikely that he might have resorted to SH as a teenager. and later, he got the tattoo as a reminder to himself that those days are his past and not his present.

i really read the comics and said:

[dear--mars]

Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?

── Synopsis: Soulmates. The concept sounded unreal, too good to be true. And it seemed it was. Nothing lasts forever and the thought of being together even in another world was just a dream.

── Characters: Blade, Aventurine, and Veritas

── CW: can't find anything. (please let me know if I missed any.)

── Notes: kinda occ ngl... [angst/no comfort]

── Word count: 591 + 891 + 867 = 2349 words in total

Blade ── Blade was a wandering soul. Both of you knew that and yet you still tried to tie him down. But could you really be blamed?

How could you think he wanted anything else when all he did was send mixed signals? One moment he’s cold and distant then he’s all over you, being needy and needing your comfort. So was it any surprise when you eventually got tired of his on-and-off behavior?

So you left. 

You started a new life on the small planet of Adion. You worked a job you actually liked, made new relationships, and never stressed too much about things that didn’t matter. It was the turning of a new leaf.

But with joy come sorrow and suffering.

A loud banging at your door echoed throughout your house. You tossed and turned in your bed, trying to fall back asleep, but the noise breaks the peaceful sleep you’re so desperately clinging to. 

You sat up, rubbing your eyes before taking a look at the clock for a few moments, it’s two in the morning. You had no idea what was going on but you had a familiar sense of deja vu that you couldn’t shake. 

"Damn it… Who the hell is that?" You mumbled to yourself before getting out of bed to walk to the front door. But once you saw who was at your door, every hint of fatigue fled your body as your blood ran cold. 

It was Blade.

You slightly faltered as your mind ran a hundred miles per hour trying to think of how he found you. You swallowed the lump in your throat and took a step back, not wanting to be in his vicinity.

Wordlessly, Blade reached out and stopped you. In the past, you would’ve said that Blade was one of the hardest men to read but as of right now, you could tell every thought that ran through his head.

Maybe it had something to do with the fact that you haven’t seen each other for a few months. The slight tug on his eyebrows that showed frustration, the dark circles under his eyes told you that he hadn’t slept for a while, and lastly the desperation and relief hidden in his eyes.

“Why?” was the only thing he croaked out.

You immediately understood what he was asking and a flash of irritation crossed your face. “Are you serious? Why? Why did I leave?” You asked, finishing his question. When you saw him nod, you scoffed.

You pulled your hand away from his but it chased after your warmth instinctively. “Why wouldn’t I leave? What have you done for me to make me want to stay?” You spat out harshly.

Blade flinched and gritted his teeth. He reached out to grab your hand again, this time intertwining his fingers with yours. “Maybe not in this lifetime but do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” He mumbled out, clearly in a vulnerable state.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not anymore. You cared way too much in the past, it was time to move on from this chapter in your life. Time to move on from Blade. “Do you leave me in every universe?” Your tone was bitter.

Even more so than him. Only then did Blade truly realize just how much power you had over him. You could make him the happiest he had ever been, more than he thought he could be but you could also drag him into the deepest depths of pain and agony.

Aventurine ── Aventurine. What a man.

At times you couldn’t believe he was yours. Waking up next to him and seeing his smile made you fall in love with him all over again. But you should’ve suspected something was up with a man so perfect and flawless.

You should have anticipated this turn of events. The plot twist was so overused that the only appropriate response you could get out was laughter. Lovers betraying each other—how cliché. 

How could someone be so blind just because of love? You couldn't fathom it. You hated this trope and Aventurine knew that. Maybe that’s why he was smiling ever so slyly when he revealed his true intentions. 

After telling you the truth, Aventurine left your home cold and empty, taking any semblance of warmth with him. Years passed and you were forced to move on. Did you still love him deep down? Of course, but time moved forward whether you were ready or not.

Aventurine was born lucky. Being blessed by Gaiathra Triclops from birth, Aventurine grew up always having luck at his side. A fact that he hated but one that he relied on often. 

That’s why he thought no matter what, he’d always win. But Aventurine hadn’t known that his ‘luck’ only really constituted physical ideas and plans, not emotions. Especially his or yours, not after everything he did to you.

Aventurine felt a void in his chest like something was missing. You, Obviously but he would never admit that. As “carefree” Aventurine is, he still has his pride. He used you even if it was for work, catching feelings wasn’t an option.

But it never hurt to see how you were doing, right?

That’s the excuse Aventurine used as he sat in your hotel room. He never would’ve thought you’d be here in Penacony but it worked out in his favor. (Everything always did.)

Aventurine hears the door creak open and footsteps but they stop as soon as you laid eyes on him. Your eyes widened, you could recognize that tuff of blond hair just about anywhere in the universe.

Your breathing gets a bit heavier as your hands curl into fists. Aventurine doesn’t need to turn around to see you’re upset but he does anyway. He wants to see your beautiful face after all. 

God, you were extraordinary. Even after years of being apart, you still looked the same. If anything, you grew to be more attractive. Your soft skin, your plump lips, and your luscious hair that shined even under artificial lighting.

“Hey. It’s been a while, huh?” He asked, hiding his true feelings and masking them with a facade of confidence and nonchalance. “Never expected you to come to Penacony of all places.”

Your heart ached when Aventurine spoke to you with an air of familiarity. You hated how he acted like nothing happened between the you two. You ignored his words, cutting straight to the point. “What are you doing here.” You asked but it was more of a demand.

Aventurine raised his hands in mock surrender. “What’s with the hostility? I just came here to say hi and catch up.”

“Get out.” Your tone was bitter.

“Come on-” You cut him off,

“No. Get out of my room. Or wait, should I beg you to stay like last time so you’ll definitely leave?” You mocked, in slight disbelief of Aventurine’s audacity.

Aventurine ever so slightly faltered at your tone and words. “Okay, ouch.” He joked but deep down your actions hurt. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” But when Aventurine saw the glare in your eyes, he decided to drop the facade.

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he did when he was feeling guilty or bad. “Do you remember our first anniversary? When we were having that picnic under that giant weeping willow?” He reminisced with a strained smile.

“You asked back then if we’d be soulmates in every universe and I said yes, knowing that I’d have to betray you. I feel like it’s my turn.” Aventurine paused and took a deep breath. “Do you think we’re soulmates in every universe?”

You didn’t hesitate in cutting down any and all expectations, Aventurine held. “Why would you think that when you ruined it for us in this one?” You counted with a question of your own.

Aventurine froze before smiling, trying to mask the pain in his expression. “I have to admit I wasn’t expecting you to say something so cruel but I understand,” Aventurine said with a smile, trying to act playful and nonchalant. 

He then left your room without any more complaints. The truth of the situation didn't hit him until he saw you at the bar, laughing and drinking with another man. Maybe my luck has finally run out. He thought, trying to shove back any emotions from leaking out.

Aventurine had never truly wanted anything in his life. He couldn't afford the luxury of wanting something. He never asked for all the wealth he amassed or the luck he was born with. Hell, he didn’t even really want freedom. After being chained down for so long, Aventurine wouldn't know what to do if he was free.

But you were different.

He wanted you. But he couldn’t. 

And that was what pissed him off the most.

Veritas ── Dating Veritas was not for the weakhearted. Due to his extreme talent and unparalleled intelligence, he holds himself in high regard. He comes off as candid, self-centered, and condescending. 

Even mocking or narcissistic at times. But you knew him better. Veritas was just a bit too blunt but he was sensible and levelheaded. He wasn’t a bad person. In fact, it’s the opposite. 

He firmly believes that intellect isn’t confined to geniuses and seeks to distribute knowledge to the entire universe, all to “cure” ignorance. He wants to help people but is just a bit odd or “mean” while doing it. 

He does have a bit of an eccentric temperament but he meant well. That’s what you always told yourself but that excuse was starting to grow old. You were trying to be considered an understanding of where he was coming from, you always have been.

But you can only take so much. A person can only get knocked down so many times before they decide it's better to just stay on the floor. And it seemed you were reaching that breaking point with Veritas.

He would always point out your mistakes, nitpick something irrelevant, or just for the sake of it. You started to wonder if he even loved you. Never once did he really show affection toward you.

At first you tried to acknowledge that he might not feel comfortable with that but after years of being together, if he still wasn't comfortable enough with you to show basic affection… You couldn't help but wonder, what the hell have you been doing for the past four years of your life?

One day you had enough. 

Your words rang clearly throughout his study, "Veritas, I think we should stop seeing each other." You said vaguely but the message was clear. 

Veritas froze upon hearing your words, not expecting you to say such a thing. "Why?" he asked simply, the coldness now turning into a sharp tone. The suddenness of this topic left him confused, a part of him wanting to lash out at you, but he refrained.

"I just don't think we're compatible as a couple."

Veritas scoffed as soon as you finished speaking, feeling slightly annoyed at that word. Was 'compatibility' the thing that doomed their relationship? "So you have realised we are not compatible after so many years of being together?" His tone now sharp with the hints of slight aggression.

You didn’t flinch at his cold tone. "You don't have to get so defensive, I'm not blaming you." You said with a gentle expression, which was odd for you. You've always been more hot-headed and impulsive so seeing you like this was weird to Veritas.

"It's just that I want to be loved in a more open way and you can't provide that for me which is okay. That's just not you, and I don't want you to change yourself for me. I'm sure you're more suited with someone who's like yourself. I'm just not the person."

Veritas could tell by your calm explanation, that you’ve been thinking about this for quite some time and that fact stabbed his heart in a way he’d never felt before. "I tried my best to love you as much as I possibly can, but apparently that was not enough for you..."

"Just because you love me doesn't mean I feel loved." You countered and Veritas froze. "Let's think about it this way. Let's say you're trying to teach somebody something. It's easy for you so you have high expectations for the person you’re teaching. But that person just doesn't get it. They're trying their best but they're not understanding. You would feel upset or annoyed, right? Because their best isn't good enough for you." You tried to explain in a way he would understand.

“The fault wouldn't be placed on the person who's trying their best, it would be placed on the one who had unrealistic expectations.” You finished with a strained smile. You loved Veritas, with all your heart but you couldn’t go on like this.

Veritas had to stifle the urge to argue for a moment. He hated how accurate your example was, but he also understood your point. “Do you believe in fate? Destiny and or soulmates, things like that?“ He asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

You paused, raising an eyebrow at him. Veritas was an intelligent man when it came to logic and reasoning. Things like destiny and fate weren't “logical” in the slightest. “I suppose.” You answered carefully.

“Do you think we’re soulmates in every other universe?” You blinked at Veritas’ question. Never in a million years would you have thought that he would ask you something like that. You sighed and decided to give him a taste of his own blunt medicine.

“Do you treat me like shit in every universe?” Veritas felt his heart shatter at your response. He didn’t know you felt like that. He didn’t know that he was treating you so badly to the point where’d you had to resort to this.

He regretted asking. This would perhaps be the only time he wished to remain ignorant, despite his life goal of getting rid of it. 

- Navigation -   - Supernova -

[nr1chaedickrider]

Three is a magic number - it makes you want me even more.

Acting like a brat doesn't end well.

handcuffs ; degradation ; dacryphilia ; a little bit edging ; a little bit of overstimulating ; some petnames ; use of a whip ; thigh riding ; reader is getting called miss ; not proofread, guys what the fuck happened to me... is this even nr1chaedickrider anymore... ; ^_^

men dni.

-

Her ass sways to the left and right side as she walks. Her already short dress rides up even higher, showing her ass off.

You wish that it would atleast show a bit of her underwear - but no.

Her naked ass is right infront of you.

A night that was supposed to be "fun" turned out to you dragging her back home.

A night that was supposed to be about spending time with friends and drinking alcohol turned into you almost throwing her onto your bed.

You straddle her and sit down on her lap, trapping her with your legs.

She sits up and supports her body with her elbows, looking up to you with lidded eyes - and a nasty smirk that comes with it just seconds after.

"Such a slut" you say, breaking the silence.

The tension is thick, the atmosphere of the room full of lust, anger and - sex.

She raises an eyebrow, tries not to smile at the name calling.

"Am I? I think I behaved just like usually."

You scoff, laughing at her statement (which is in your opinion crazy).

"If you call this your usual behavior then we have a big problem." you say, standing up as you walk to the closet.

"Clothes off, now." you add in a tone that makes her cunt throb, in a way that got her so needy for you, in a tone that sounds like you're ordering her to do something (which you are technically really doing).

She obeys, taking her dress off and letting it fall down on the floor before laying down on the bed again.

Your eyes wander around the closet, looking at different boxes, knowing that you're searching for that special box.

You chuckle a little when you find it and open it. Taking out two things -

First, metal handcuffs.

Second, a leather whip, with thin threads that hurt even more when used.

The combination of you and these two things is dangerous.

Sana always had a thing for danger.

Sana also thinks that three is her favorite number.

Handcuffs, leather whip, and lastly, the most important part -

you.

You turn around to the bed again, carrying both of those in your hands as you sit down on her lap again.

She watches you with anticipation, not being able to hide her smirk anymore.

Without saying anything, you take her wrists and attach the handcuffs to them. The cold metal sends Sana a shiver down her spine.

You then look at her again, the whip in your hand.

"Leave your arms over your head." you order her, and she nods.

Your slim fingers slowly trail over her body, touching her in a way that got her craving for more.

Your hand cups her cheek, and you can't hide the chuckle that leaves your mouth when you look at Sana who looks at you so desperately. Sana, who watches you and hopes that you finally do something to help her get off.

At this moment, however, hope doesn't help her.

You stroke her cheek with your thumb before you lean in to kiss her other cheek.

Sana tries to move, tries to catch your lips so desperately, but you move away, your and her lips not even touching for a single second.

She lets out a small whine, making you laugh.

"Do you really think im gonna let you get a kiss so easily?" you ask.

"You're pathetic"

You feel her thighs move against eachother.

"Trying to rub your thighs together to somehow get relief?" you tease her.

"Please-" she asks, no, she begs, brows furrowed as she looks up to you.

The whip hits her chest and she lets out a whimper.

"Please what?" you ask her.

"Please miss-" she lets out, her chest already turning into a light shade of red.

"I need you so bad"

You laugh.

"Too bad."

You get off her lap, opening her legs as you settle inbetween them.

You watch her breathe as she stares at you, she can't stop looking at the way your white wife beater shows off your body so well, and how you're nipples are a little visible because you didn't want to wear a bra today (which is in her opinion problably the best decision ever).

Your finger trails down her stomach to her core, moving it through her folds as she lets out a moan.

You pull your hand away, looking at her slick on your finger.

"You're so desperate.. what am I supposed to do with you baby?" you ask, knowing damn well what you want to do.

Edge her until she is almost crying for you.

Overstimulate her till she begs you to stop while she herself knows she doesn't want you to stop.

"Please.. miss.. just- I need you inside, so fucking bad-" she answers, hips moving slightly in hopes of getting touched.

You laugh a little at her desperateness and at the way she really hopes that you will give in that easily.

But there is no fun to it if you don't make her think that you gave in hm?

Your middle and ring fingers enter her core and she lets out a louder moan, head leaned back.

"God-" she moans.

You move your fingers in a fast way, curling them and hitting the spots that got Sana throwing her head back even more.

You lean closer to her, kissing her neck as your fingers thrust into her. She lets out a whimper when you start to suck and bite on her neck, marking her up.

Your hot breath against her neck and your fingers moving so skillful got her already close to her orgasm.

And she really thought that you would give it to her.

You pull out your fingers that are covered with her slick.

Sana lets out a groan when she feels the emptiness.

"You're stupid" you say, chuckling at the way she pouts a little.

"Turn around" you order, she obeys and turns around so she is on all fours infront of you. She looks at you over her shoulder, her look full of lust and need.

You take a deep breath, trying not to give in immideatly by the way she looks at you that definetly got you wet.

You caress her ass with the whip, Sana still looks at you, not able to take her eyes off you.

"Count them and i'll let you cum baby." you say and she nods, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth.

"one-" she moans out when you hit her, and you definetly can't hide your smile anymore.

You hit her again, "two.." she whimpers.

Your other hand starts to touch her everywhere.

You grope her tits and play with her sensitive nipples as she tries to hold back her moans.

Another hit, "three-".

"Such a good whore for me, aren't you?" you whisper against her body as you kiss her soft skin.

The whip hits her again, the beige skin on her ass slowly fading to a darker shade of red.

"F-four" she moans.

You decide that you won't give her any time to relax anymore.

You hit again, "five"

And again, "six-" her eyes slowly full of tears, her wetness being uncomfortably bothering.

Again, "seven.."

Hit eight and nine happen fast without a single break, making Sana stutter as a tear flows down her cheek.

You hit her for the last time - "ten" she says, and you smile as you put the whip away and caress her ass with your hand.

You turn her around again, on her back.

She pants a little, her arms lifted over her head, the handcuffs tight around her wrists, problably already leaving red marks.

You place your hand on her core, slowly rubbing her clit with your fingers.

She lets out some soft moans, you lean in and kiss her lips, no teasing, no nothing.

Your lips on hers - it feels like kissing the softest pillow in the whole world.

The kiss turns messy pretty fast though.

Sana's breathing gets heavier as you trail kisses down her jaw, adding more hickeys on her neck and collarbone - claiming her as yours.

Your fingers thrust inside with no warning, she moans loud.

You smirk against her skin as you move your fingers with skill.

You continue kissing her everywhere, your lips trailing down to her breast as you take one of her erected buds into your mouth, sucking, licking, and biting a little.

Her moans grow louder, she is overwhelmed in the best way possible. Her climax comes closer as you feel her walls thighten around your fingers.

"Wanna hear you so bad, cum for me like the good girl you are." you say (which sounds more like an order).

She nods a little, eyes closed, her head thrown back.

A little thrusting and teasing her nipples got her cumming on your fingers with a loud moan.

You take your fingers out, cleaning them up a little while holding eye contact with Sana.

"Taste yourself baby" you wait for her to open her mouth as you push your fingers inside, feeling how she sucks on them, feeling how she uses your tongue that got you dripping.

You take them out with a little 'pop' sound.

Before Sana can say anything though, you kneel down - infront of her core, and dive right in.

She starts to turn into a moaning mess again as you suck on her clit.

Her thighs try to close around your head, but you hold them in place with your hands.

"You can touch me." you mumble, the vibrations making her let out another moan.

Her cuffed hands make their way down to your head, gripping your hair as she pulls you closer.

Sana had moments where she could get overstimulated easily.

She moans loud when your tongue enters her hole.

This moment here, is one of them.

She feels you everywhere as her hips buck into your face, her moans turning into desperate whimpers.

Her next orgasm isn't far away when your nose hits her clit as you move your head.

You feel your scalp burning when she pulls at your hair and cums.

She lets your head go seconds after, panting as another tear rolls down her cheek.

You sit up again, looking at her with a smile.

What was Sana's favorite number again?

Three.

Her three favorite things in bed - you, a whip, handcuffs.

Her favorite way of getting off - your fingers, your tongue, your thigh.

Seems like one thing is missing.

You grip her slim waist with your hands as you pull her on your lap.

She looks at you in confusion before she realises.

You flex your thigh and start to move her a little as she moans again.

"W-wait-" she whimpers, the handcuffs on her hands stopping her.

She feels overwhelmed, overstimulated -

and so fucking horny.

She feels like she is going to explode with another orgasm.

But she always loved the pain that comes with it.

You don't even have to grind her on your thigh anymore as she starts moving herself on your thigh, moaning, whimpering, and panting.

"Riding my thigh like a bitch in heat god... You want to cum so bad, don't you?" you ask her, whispering it against her marked up neck as you place kisses on top of them.

She nods and continues to ride you so desperately.

Your hands move up her body as you play with her nipples again, flicking them and even pinching them.

Her moans get louder already, you bite down on her neck again as you leave another mark, sucking and licking over it.

For a moment you think you even had the taste of iron on your tongue.

You look at her, watching how Sana is already so close to her climax as you kiss her again.

You both groan a little against each others lips as her body starts to shake a little as she cums on your thigh.

Sana's head is on your shoulder as she slowly calms down.

"God.." she breathes out.

You giggle a little as you free her from the handcuffs, and see that they really left some marks.

Sana looks at you again, her hands moving on your body until they hold your face.

She moves your head closer so that her lips are right infront of your ear.

She whispers something that makes you want to take off your clothes immideatly - as well as putting on the handcuffs yourself.

"Let me take care of you."

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐘

summary: what do they do and how do they cope after you suddenly go where they can’t follow?

pairings: scaramouche/ wanderer :: venti :: kaveh :: zhongli x gn! reader

warnings: angst, reader dies/ has died, arson [scara], alcohol consumption [venti, kaveh]

genshin impact masterlist || a million miles away- belle

the loneliest [pt. 2 - xiao, kazuha, aether, childe]

𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄

“Come back to me, and stay by my side I feel my heart shake; come, ease this ache..."

Dull amethyst eyes watched in apathy as the golden flames swallowed the edge of the picture, slowly singeing away your smile, then the arm you had thrown around his shoulders and lastly his hand holding you close by the waist, until only small flakes of grey ashes remained and fluttered to your lover’s feet. 

The silence around him was too loud, pressing on his ears and threatening to crush his skull. Letting his gaze sweep through the space you’d once lived in together made his chest constrict like vines wrapping tighter around his ribcage the more details he took in. Every chair, every tea cup, every stray piece of paper brought back memories of you, together with the bitterness of knowing he’d never get to hold you in his arms again.

It was then that he realised, getting rid of all your possessions, every picture you’d taken and every gift you’d given him wouldn’t be enough. Your presence had long since invaded every corner, nook and cranny of this house, the space irreversibly intertwined with you. And now that your physical form had faded, your soul had come back to haunt his every waking moment and to even follow him into the depths of his dreams. 

Perhaps this was his divine punishment, the atonement for all the sins he had committed clinging to his newly taken form. Or perhaps it wasn’t you at all, only his mind mocking him for not living any and every moment with you to the fullest, not giving you all of him when he had the chance to.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t take it anymore. He’d have to cut all ties with this place in order to rid himself of the shackles he found himself bound by. Even if it meant reducing the centre of your shared happiness to cinders.

As he laid the fire, meticulously making sure no room of the house was spared, he wondered. How would a real human feel in a moment like this? Would they also feel nothing? Or was it just him, an artificial puppet, who’d only feel numbness at the death of his loved one? Were any of his feelings real in the first place? You’d have deserved someone who actually loved you and cherished your memories, not someone who destroyed the very place you’d called a home.

The flames singed the ends of his clothes the same colour as your photo as he stepped out into the evening breeze, which now carried smoke and the smell of burning wood with it. Even as he watched the roof cave in and the support of the house break away, he felt no sadness, yet the vines seemed to creep only deeper between his ribs, snaring around the place where a heart should beat.

Your lover looked around the area where your home once stood. And it felt like all air had been knocked out of his lungs.

There, between two trees, grew the flower you had loved so much. And was that your favourite dish he could smell? A flock of birds flew overhead, probably to escape the fire, reminding him of the ones you’d fed over winter, the ones he reprimanded you not to spoil.

To his horror, the more frantically he searched for something which wouldn’t bring back thoughts of you, the more images flooded his brain. The force of his realisation brought him to his knees as he stared at the damage he’d done with his mind clear for the first time in days. There was a pressure building behind his eyes and his throat tightened uncomfortably, constricting airways he didn’t need. Was this what happened when humans cried?

“I’m sorry.” It was barely there and completely broken at the same time. The weakness he’d so despised in others overwhelmed him as embers swirled high in the sky. 

He was a fool, a complete and utter fool, to think he could ever get rid of you, of his feelings for you. It had never been the house you were bound to. From the very start, your soul had been intricately intertwined with his, and it would continue to be, until he too faded from this world in the distant future. Hopefully, then, you would be reunited and you could forgive him.

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

"...I'm standing over here, reaching for you  A million miles away, come back and stay..."

Venti had no idea how much time had passed since that day. Not that he as an archon was very good at keeping track of time spans as short as days or weeks in the first place. It wasn’t like he avoided thinking about you, no. He did. A lot, actually.

Before his mind’s eye, the shine of your smile and the sparkle in your eyes as your joyful laughter rang through the air was as clear as day. The days spent lazing around in the grass with cider and apple tarts while Venti hummed a lazy tune filled him with more warmth than the sun. Yet, his smile at the memories didn’t quite reach his eyes, just how his brain never reached the point where he’d seen you last. And he never strained himself to remember it either.

All his actions felt heavy, like an invisible weight was holding him down. Venti was sure if he were to use a wind glider, he’d fall out of the sky like a stone. Thinking was akin to walking through mud, every step hardly leaving the ground and every fibre of his body screaming at him to stop and just lie down.

After your funeral was held, most of Mondstadt’s citizens reckonned they’d find the usually playful bard at the tavern even more often from now on. At first, that was true. Venti sat down at his usual table and ordered what he’d always ordered but the other patrons quickly caught on that he wasn’t doing okay at all. Normally the centre of attention and excitedly talking to anyone who’d listen, it was shocking to see the bard stare down on the contents of his glass in silence. 

So it came as quite the shock when after a few days, Venti didn’t show up to the Angel’s Share anymore. In fact, he was hardly spotted around the city at all. It was mostly the guards from the morning and night shift who saw him come and go. When he left, there were only two locations where one could find him. Either on the windy peak of Starsnatch Cliff or in the arms of the tree at Windrise. Both would do, as long as he was away from the pitiful glances people would throw him.

On that particular day, Venti was mindlessly strumming his lyre to the sound of the rustling leaves as he overlooked the planes of Mondstadt, not actually taking in any of the sights. His mind was here and there, not lingering on any one thought very long. Before coming here, he’d overheard people in town wonder about the wind which had recently picked up, how it tasted a lot saltier, as if coming from the sea, how unusually cold it was for this time of year and how it bit at the skin more. He supposed that was true.

In the beginning he’d brought a basket of apples when he came out here but they all tasted as if he’d taken a bite out of a handful of flour, so he stopped. All the cider tasted bitter and wine only added to the constant pressure building behind his temple. So Venti eventually gave up on trying to find something he could stomach. It wasn’t important to an archon anyway.

The melody his hands subconsciously called into existence snapped him back into the present. It was a song he had started writing with you as his muse, a song he’d not yet shown you, wanting to wait until it was finished, no matter how much you begged for him to show you already. 

Even to his own ears, his voice sounded foreign. As the patron god of Mondstadt’s bards, he’d always prided himself on his smooth and serene voice. But now it was nothing but a hoarse whisper, cracking as he tried to voice the words he’d engrained in his mind. His vocal cords felt raw and burnt after hardly talking to anyone longer than he had to. In the corner of his eyes, the statue depicting his image seemed to mock him; a bard who couldn’t sing, a god who couldn’t even protect a single person.

When he reached the part of the song where he left off faster than he’d like, his hands were trembling and he slumped against the tree bark in exhaustion. Yet, with your memory in mind, he willed himself to continue, to capture your spirit in his art at least, if he couldn’t hold onto you any other way. 

Despite his best effort, what started out as a lovestruck ballad quickly turned into a lament, no matter how he filled the lines with affection and joy. He tried and tried, with more vigour than he’d shown in the last weeks altogether, to right the verses, to do your image justice, but it was all in vain. Every version was more sorrowful than the last. When the moon peeked through the twigs, he resigned himself to his fate and cast his gaze to the far heavens above.

“My darling dove, can you hear me?” He whispered into the still night air. Only the distant call of an owl answered him. “I hope this song reaches you all the way up there. I really wanted to play it for you.”

Leaning his head back, Venti was suddenly overcome with a tiredness he hadn’t experienced for a very, very long time. Now was as good a time for a slumber as any, he supposed. Perhaps by the time he opened his eyes again, things would be different and his chest would feel light as air once again.

𝐊𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐇

"...No matter how far the memories may be When I close my eyes, you're all that I see..."

It was his fault.

The reason he’d never get to throw himself into your arms ever again was him, and him alone.

If he hadn’t answered your question whether he’d like you to get the materials he needed for his newest project from the Akademiya with a 'That’d be a big a help, my rose' he could still call you that nickname now and in the future. If he’d just gone and gotten them himself, you’d never been caught up in that horrible accident, an experiment gone astray, as the mahamatra had explained to him. If he hadn’t been so selfish, you’d still be alive.

Deep down, a reasonable part of him knew he wasn’t to blame. His friends had emphasised that as well, nobody could have expected something so gruesome to happen. Still, Kaveh couldn’t accept it. It didn’t feel right to excuse himself like that. You died because you wanted to help him, he deserved to carry this blame, this pain, this guilt. 

Despite Tighnari and Cyno showing up to console him, Kaveh turned them away without much hesitation. Grabbing a glass and a bottle of wine, the architect disappeared into his room, sparing his roommate not so much as a glance. This behaviour didn’t change much over the next few days, except for the fact that wine was swapped with coffee, thanks to Al-Haitham.

Speaking of the Grand Scribe, he’d normally be happy to have some peace and quiet, yet, seeing the normally talkative blond isolate himself for days on end made him genuinely worry for his old friend. Neither of them acknowledged the way plates of food would appear in Kaveh's room or how he would wake up with a blanket draped over him which hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. 

There was a single instance in which Kaveh spoke and it was only a single word. When Al-Haitham had been cleaning up around the house, he’d picked up a vase holding sumeru roses that had wilted beyond recognition. Just as he was about to discard the flowers, there was a low, muttered ‘Don’t’ that made him stop in his tracks. It wasn’t so much the word in itself as it was the way Kaveh said it. The roughness in his voice was so foreign from its usual melodic lilt, no emotion swinging in it at all.

Al-Haitham faintly remembered how you had brought the roses over one day when you two had gone on a date and wordlessly put them back on the table. 

In general, not many of Kaveh’s -and by extension your- possessions moved at all, collecting dust as they lay just like on the day of your passing. The only thing that changed was the growing pile of scrolls and papers littering the architect’s room. In order to get his mind off everything, Kaveh had buried himself in work. Yet, none of his sketches turned out to his liking and he grew more frustrated and irritable the more crumpled or ripped papers covered the floor. Never before had he broken this many pencils as a consequence of jabbing the coal onto his designs and pressing down harder than necessary.

Until he found himself staring down on a completely blank sheet with no idea whatsoever. All utensils were strewn about the space, discarded and never picked up as dreary and washed-out crimson eyes drooped without the mercy of sleep overcoming him. Every time he tried to rest, your face and voice would startle him awake again and he’d choke on the breath he tried to take.

With his hair unkempt, clothes rumpled and dark circles under his eyes, the “Light of Kshahrewar” was merely a shadow of his former self as he hunched over his messy desk. The first sobs tearing through him broke the dam on all the feelings he’d bottled up inside, burning his throat like acid as they tore free. The previously untouched scroll served as a canvas for all his regrets spilling over in the form of falling tears, drawing a portrait of his tumultuous state of mind.

Still, the sinking weight in his chest prevailed, the guilt a constant reminder of the loneliness he couldn’t shake.

𝐙𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐈

"...Come back to me A million miles away, come back and stay”

Zhongli had been setting the table for when you came home from work, two tea cups already waiting to be used as a kettle of water boiled on the stove. Soon the pleasant aroma of tea leaves and the cheery sound of your voice would fill your shared home, Zhongli plating two bowls of bamboo shoot soup as he waited for you to come home.

Right on time, there was a knock on the door and he quickly made his way over, elated to finally be in your presence again. A genuine smile graced his lips as he opened the door, a smile that fell abruptly when he came face to face with two millelith, their faces decidedly neutral. Still, the air felt ominously sombre. 

“Mr. Zhongli?” One of them confirmed before bowing his head as continued. “We are sorry to inform you that there has been an armed robbery. The person who is registered to live here with you has unfortunately not survived the violent encounter. Our deepest condolences.”

After handing him the bag you always carried with you, the soldiers departed, leaving the consultant alone with his thoughts. As in trance, he sat down and carefully opened the bag, almost as if a sudden movement could make it crumble in between his fingers.

Considering his incredibly long lifespan, this was hardly the first time Zhongli had lost someone he cared for deeply. That, however, didn’t mean it was any easier. Parting ways with loved ones was something any sentient being couldn’t get used to, especially if it happened so suddenly.

While his mind had already processed the information, it seemed his heart had a hard time keeping up with what was happening, his mind in a strange limbo between reality and thought as he unpacked your belongings. While turning each one over between his gloved fingers, Zhongli tried sorting out his emotions. Even the sweetness of shared moments replaying in his mind couldn’t sugarcoat the bitter sting of grief taking root in his very being.

The shrill screeching from the tea kettle drew his attention away from the items on the table occupying the space where you’d usually link your hands as you traded stories of what happened in your respective days.

For a few seconds that felt like aeons, Zhongli held the tea kettle in his hand before ultimately deciding to brew tea after all. Perhaps it would help him retain a sense of normality. Before he realised, he’d already filled your cup, an action he was so used to it apparently became routine at one point. With a sigh, he did the same on his site before taking a seat again and watching the ripples of water move across his cup.

When he awoke the next day, Zhongli couldn’t tell how long he had sat like that or when he’d gone to sleep, his motions automatic as if pulled by strings. Making breakfast, getting dressed, staring out of the window into the busy harbour… He was aware he was doing all of these things, yet he didn’t feel fully present, merely looking onto the scene.

Being with you had shown him so much of what mortal life had to offer, your perspective refreshingly different from his own, he couldn’t help but smile melancholically at the memory. In light of your brilliance, perhaps the old god had no chance but to fall in love. Enveloped in your affection, Zhongli had finally felt like he found his place among the people of Liyue but once more this connection had been severed. 

In the late afternoon, a knock sounded through the humble abode yet again. This time, however, it was not the millelith.

“Director Hu, what an honour,” Zhongli politely bowed. “Is there a matter in which you need my expertise?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” the young woman said, her crimson eyes seemingly looking straight into him. “I heard what happened, so I came to see how you’re doing.”

“Your concern flatters me, Director. Please do come in.” Stepping aside, he opened the door wider to allow Hu Tao entry.

Gliding right into his living room, she took a seat at his table, gaze sweeping through the room. It was then Zhongli noticed how there were still two cups sitting there, one empty and one untouched. 

“Ah, please pardon me. I was not expecting guests on this day.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. I don’t mind,” she gave him an understanding smile. Naturally, in their line of work, both of them had seen many people suffering through the loss of a loved one and it was an understatement to say grief showed many different faces. “I won’t be taking much of your time anyway. 

“First of all, I’d like to offer my sincerest condolences. An incredible person like them will be deeply missed.” Despite the simplicity, her words were fully genuine. “Take as much time off work as you need, your healing is the most important thing right now. And while I hate to bring business into a personal situation like this, you should think about what kind of ceremony you’ll want to hold. When you have an answer, just tell me and I’ll handle the rest.”

“Thank you, that is very generous of you, Director.”

When the house was empty once again, Zhongli gently picked up both cups and poured out the cold tea inside. With the sinking sun dipping Liyue in liquid gold, its former archon commenced his evening ritual. Turning the cup that was supposed to be yours between his fingers, he chose two new ones and set them up with his usual care for details.

As the tea brewed, Zhongli went to retrieve a journal you had gifted him once but which he hadn’t found any use for yet. Taking his place at the now empty table, he dipped a quill in ink as he contemplated what to write.

In the end, he settled for describing his day, just how he would when you’d sit across from him, listening to his stories attentively. He could vividly picture your expression of awe before him, bringing a fond smile to his face. As more time passed, dried flowers or notes you had left him eventually found their way between the pages as well.

Naturally, your loss cut deeper than Zhongli ever could hope to understand. At times it made him feel empty, like the sun would never smile upon him again. And while mourning was an important part of coming to terms with devastating loss, he had learnt over time that wallowing in sorrow and getting swallowed by pain would not honour the life you had lived.

Instead, his priority lay on treasuring every moment where your paths intersected, to preserve a part of you which would remain untouched by corrosion, so you could continue to shine forever like gold in his memory.

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[eimids]

Worst enemy part 2

Arsenal x reader

(Okay but leah in this photo is the cutest)

Warnings: talk about suicide, depression, but reader getting better

Words: around 2k?

You woke up in the comfortable bed. You didn’t want to open your eyes tho. You didn’t want to face the reality of life and yesterday’s events. So you just laid in there. You could feel Leah’s arm wrapped around you and her other hand stroking your hair.

Unbeknownst to you, Leah knew you were awake, she sensed the stiffness of your body when you woke up. She didn’t say anything because she wanted to take things at your pace.

The day before when you had asked for help, you cried in Leah’s arms for hours before falling asleep in her arms. Leah then sent some messages to Kim. They talked about contacting the team management and Jonas so they could get you the help you needed. Kim would sort all of that out for you so you didn’t have to stress about that.

“Good morning sweet girl” Leah said gently when she noticed you stirring.

“Mhmm” You just mumbled back. Not having the energy to actually answer. Leah understood though. She let you wake up slowly taking your time.

“Are you ready to wake up properly and talk about yesterday?” Leah asked after a while.

“Not really but I guess I’ll have to?” You answered after a while.

“Yea, I know it’s going to be hard for you but it’s for the best. Your gonna get the help you need to manage your depression and me and all of the other teammates will be here for you every step of the way” Leah said and continued stroking your hair. It made you a bit calmer.

“Wait do they all know about this?” You asked when Leah’s words settled in. You didn’t want all of them to know.

“No don’t worry. Even though they wouldn’t judge you about this. But no, Alessia was the first one to talk to me and Kim about this. Then Beth and Viv came to talk cause they were worried. Then lastly McCabe. They were all worried about your wellbeing and wanted to help. Others don’t know about your history with depression but most of them have noticed that something is going on with you.” Leah answered you. You just nodded your head. Not fully grasping everything that was said to you.

“So you know about what happened at Manu?” You asked quietly.

“Yeah, but that won’t change how I see you as a person. You are an amazing person and a fantastic footballer and your past doesn’t change it in the least” Leah answered trying to convince you.

“So what happens now?” You asked next after a silent moment.

“Well Kim has contacted the team management and they have called the psychiatrist at the team. You’re gonna have a meeting with her and they’ll probably want you to start medication and therapy again. That helped last time right?”

“Yeah it made things better for a while before it all fell apart again” You answered. Almost starting to cry again. Just so exhausted about everything.

Leah stayed quiet for a while before she asked you about what she was wondering all night.

“Where were you yesterday? We were all worried about you and I was really worried that you might have- um” Leah started but couldn’t say the words. She didn’t want to believe the chance that you left to kill yourself.

You stayed quiet. It seemed too hard to admit the things that were so dark. But then you started to explain

You started to explain how you had left the hotel in a very bad mental state. A state where you definitely shouldn’t have been alone. You didn’t know where you were going. Wandering around the streets. At one point you could hear sounds of a train. That grabbed your attention.

You were walking towards that noice. You didn’t know if you were actually going to jump in front of a train or was it just to calm you down. Just the thought that you could do it, made you feel better. You sat close to the rails for a while before hearing the next train coming. You pondered your options. You could do it and finally make everything stop. Or you could fight just like you did couple years ago.

The train came closer and closer before it went past you. Then you don’t even really remember how you ended back to the hotel.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to scare you or make you worried” You said while crying.

“You have nothing to apologize for. Now we’re going to get you some help.” Leah whispered.

Two weeks later you had started your medication and therapy. Your teammates kept their promises about being by your side during all this. Although the meds hadn’t yet started working, you were slowly getting better. Just having your teammates know about your situation and helping you with basic tasks like grocery shopping and cooking helped a lot.

Your therapist said that it would be the best if you didn’t live by yourself during this time so Alessia offered to take you living with her. She had a spare bedroom and wanted to look out for you. Leah, Viv or Beth (or all of them) would often come hang out with you since they couldn’t train properly yet due to their ACL injuries. Leah wasn’t much of a cook (or at all) but her company was nice. Even in those moments where I didn’t have energy to even talk she would just hug you and watch your favorite series. Viv loved to play board games with you. It was nice and quiet, just like you wanted. Beth was a mom, she made sure you always had something easy to eat and some water close by, she would even make sure you have taken your meds.

Some days were harder, some easier, sometimes you couldn’t get out of bed but someone was always there for you. You had been pulled out of training for at least a month before the meds would start working. After that you were allowed back on training if everything went well.

“Less can we go for a walk?” You asked your friend one night when it was just the two of you.

The older blonde was not expecting to hear that sentence from your mouth. You had barely had the energy to talk for a while and now you wanted to go for a walk. She was so happy that you were getting better again.

“Yeah of course we can! Let me just grab a hoodie and we can go. Do you need anything? Should you eat before we go?” Less started fussing over you.

“No i’m good, let’s just have a nice little walk” You answered her. And that you did. You went and got your favorite snacks to have a movie night. Although you ended up falling asleep head on her lap very soon after the movie started.

A Month later you were doing better again. You had more energy and were enrolled in training again. You weren’t yet playing at games and probably wouldn’t for a while but even getting back to just training was a big step for you.

Obviously your depression wasn’t cured and you still struggled but things were looking better for you.

“Y/l/n, come here you stupid” You heard Katie yell at you. You ran to her on the pitch with confused look.

“Why haven’t you told us that your birthday is in couple of weeks?” She asked you.

To be honest you weren’t sure in the beginning if you would make it to your twenties. You completely forgot about your birthday trying to just get better.

“Oh I haven’t even realized” You answered half truthfully.

“Well we gotta celebrate! Oh we’re going to have a big party for you! Lotte! Let’s throw a party” She yelled and ran to Lotte. It made you laugh. A real laugh. You hadn’t laughed in a while and actually been happy without feeling guilty about it. Now you were just enjoying the moment with your teammate on the pitch.

“I’m so happy she’s getting better” Leah said to the blonde next to her.

“Me too, I have been so worried about her getting better and now that she has I just feel so relieved” Alessia said back. They smiled to each other before walking to you.

“We’re proud of you kid, you’ve come a long way”

—

I don’t know if this is a bit boring ending but what ever.

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

I was wondering if you do fluff/sfw fics, I love your writings! If so I would request some domestic fluff with one of cillians characters, I'm a sucker for that cute cuddly shit. <3

VISIONS OF SUCH SWEET DAYS ─── neil lewis 𖦹

ೃ⁀➷ “I hold you like the first time. I love your heart and all that you are. When I think of us it seems absurd to not believe in eternity.” — a letter to Albert Camus, María Casares.

pairing. neil lewis x reader

summary. domestic headcanons w/neil lewis!

warnings. tooth-rotting fluff, married life, domesticity, mutual pining, bestfriends-to-lovers

word count. 2.4k

a/n. ik this probably won’t get much attention cus theres no smut but this was sm fun to write!!! tysm anon & im so sorry requests are taking long to do😭schools taking precedent for me atm! also this wasn’t proofread i apologize😓 lastly, the title is from “apocalypse” by cigarettes after sex :)

P.S. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR 2000 FOLLOWERS AHHHH I LOVE U GUYS SM!!!

Being in a relationship with Neil Lewis doesn’t change a thing at all. Your dynamic has stayed the same since you were just friends: you two were like an old married couple-- even before you did get married. 

For years, it made Jonathan and Lucien wrinkle their noses, and you ponder about the matter often, how lovey-dovey you two had actually been without even realizing it…

🎬 you used to visit him at work with takeout after he complained about forgetting his lunch over the phone. he’d light up when you walked in, why’re you here?! on his tongue before you lifted up the plastic bag, and he’d smile that boyish smile of his, warm and appreciative and so neil, the same sweet neil you’d known since you were young. 

“forget your lunch again, neil?” you’d grin. “i bet you could recite the seventh seal word by word but forget if you brushed your teeth this morning.” “you wound me!” he’d press a hand to his heart, theatrically pretending he’d gotten stabbed, “you don’t have to bet— i can recite the seventh seal word by word.”

🎬 when his washer broke, and he was too busy to get it fixed, you offered to wash his laundry for him. obviously, the thought of you handling his clothes — his intimates — had him mortified, so he suggested he just come over to yours and put a load in instead. still, the day dissolved into the two of you folding your laundry side by side, humming nostalgic tunes alongside your handheld radio. 

“oh, god, change the station,” he’d groan, haphazardly tossing one of his newly rolled up tube socks into a plastic laundry bin. “hm? how come?” you questioned absently. “they’re playing that song, y’know— from homecoming?” “when that girl -- what was her name, again? -- dumped you?” “ugh, don’t remind me and please, just change it already!”

🎬 with adulthood came change, and honestly, the two of you didn’t get to see each other as often as you wanted, so neil proposed that you spend at least one night a week eating dinner together. once, you decided to cook instead of eating out, but neil got impatient. he wandered over to your figure in the kitchen, whining that he was about to keel over and die since you were taking so long. you rolled your eyes, but relented, holding up the wooden spoon and letting him taste-test, asking if it was too salty or too sweet. maybe it was because he was hungry, or your food was something so nostalgic and familiar to him, but he absolutely melted at the taste, singing praises the entire night. 

🎬 sometimes you & neil’s movie-nights would drift off a little too late into the night, and the two of you would fall asleep on his couch together. you’d wake up, a strained, uncomfortable tangle of limbs and blankets, but you still felt right at home— snug against neil’s warm body, his familiar scent clinging to your skin. 

🎬 since neil rarely got out of the house, you made it your mission to expose that man to the sunlight as much as possible; you didn't exactly want your bestfriend to get jaundice because he was binge-watching humphrey bogart's entire filmography for days in a row. you’d take him everywhere and anywhere: the two of you would go to the sunday farmers market downtown, looking at all the booths and tents laid out, buying fresh fruit and vegetables as opposed to, what you called, “overpriced, super-market big-box store garbage”, to which, neil would say, “is this a dig at me? because you know i’m terrible at grocery shopping, i cant help buying whatever’s easiest!”

🎬 other days, you’d walk in the park side by side, taking in the fresh air and throwing bread at ducks despite the DO NOT FEED THE DUCKS sign in bright yellow, snickering like school children. 

“that one looks just like you,” you’d giggle, pointing at a particularly ugly looking one, flailing about in the water and splashing its siblings. “hardy-har, that’s very funny,” neil snorted, pushing you playfully. “jokes on you, it’s probably just like the ugly duckling.” “poor neil, is this your way of telling me you were switched at birth?”

🎬 sometimes, the two of you would sneak on top of your work building’s roof and, well, people-watch, picking a random person and dictating what you thought they were doing that day. 

neil pointed at a lady wearing a furry wolf costume, and you filled in what you thought. “oh, oh, she’s going to her kids' birthday! the guy they hired to be a wolf didn’t show up, so mom decided to do it herself.” “good on her, but i don’t think it's her kids birthday she’s going to…” he trailed off, and you looked at him confused, before he gestured to the fur-suit-wearing woman entering a strip club. “huh,” you’d blink, “kinky.”

🎬 despite the confidence he projects at gumshoe video, considering he dresses up in some silly costume every week, the guy is absolutely terrified at booking his own appointments. it doesn't matter what it is, dental or medical or even a haircut, he stumbles and hangs up at the slightest rise of panic within him. its funny the first few times, but you could not deal with it anymore after he was sick with something he “didn’t know” because he was too nervous to call his doctor. you booked the first few, but then you taught him, shoving the phone in his hand and pantomiming what to do silently in front of him. 

“uh, um, i’d like to book my - my-“ neil froze, mind going blank. you smacked your forehead lightly in exasperation, then pretended to inject yourself with a needle. “my, um, routine-- routine vaccinations!” 

🎬 it took a few tries, but he finally got the hang of it— a big achievement on his part, but your number’s still hooked up to his dentist, so you have to remind him every time that he has to book his cleaning. 

Nothing about your love has changed, not a single thing from back then, and honestly, maybe you loved him the whole time. Thought there certainly is a more romantic tone to your relationship now…

🎬 waking up next to neil might be one of the sweetest sights you’ve ever seen. usually, it’s him who wakes up first— he’s a light sleeper, while you sleep like the dead. your eyes flutter open, and there he is, piercing blue eyes drifting past your every feature. his gaze is tense and consuming but tender and loving all at once; you feel like he’s seeing through you, but it's in a good way-- you want to bare your heart on your sleeve for him because he does it for you. his hands are smooth on your side, holding you close, and he brings one up to cradle your face when he notices you’re awake. 

“goodmorning,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “morning, you little creep,” you grin against his skin, “do you watch me every morning?” he rolled his eyes, “not every morning… i can’t when you go to work early, obviously.”

🎬 your wedding is the funniest thing you’re ever experienced. sure, most people want it to be beautiful and perfect, but you were content with anything— hell, neil could’ve married you with just his cardboard cutout of ingrid bergman as the sole witness and you’d still swoon. it’s funny because your families have this chemical energy about them when they’re together— they get along like a house on fire, and it’s just, seriously, seriously chaotic. all your friends being there doesn’t help either, especially when you were 99% sure your other best friend, violet, was pickpocketing the plus-ones you didn’t know. 

“is that your aunt, or my cousin’s girlfriend?” neil asked in a whisper, taking a large bite of your red-velvet wedding cake. “i’m not sure…” you knit your brows, “but that is lucien asking for her number.”

🎬 you had gotten sick before with neil knowing before, obviously, but living with him while you’re sick means he makes it his personal mission to cater to your every need. he supplies you with dozens of pillows and blankets if you’re chilly, and will just as quickly fling them across the room if you break out a sweat. he’s by your side the whole time, even though you protest and fume that he’ll get sick too, but he says he doesn’t care, not when the love of his life is suffering. he’s so devoted to you, and it gets downright irritating at times like these, but you can’t deny how warm being showered in his love feels; being taken care of, doted on, his wide blue eyes peering into you for any sign of discomfort at all so he can quickly fix it.

just a single could i have some water? and neil’s hauling a thirty-six pack of plastic bottles into your bedroom. “just in case,” he pants, “dehydration’s a big problem when you’re sick, okay?!”

🎬 this man is a fiend!!! for spooning. little spoon or big spoon, he does not care okay maybe he likes being the little spoon a lil bit more he just adore having you near him. when he’s the big spoon, he pulls you real close, your face in the crook of his neck as he pets the back of your head gently, your arms wrapping around his waist. it’s the perfect angle because he gets to see your darling beautiful eyes looking up at him in the way you know he folds for every time. when he’s the little spoon, hes wastes no time in curling up against you, his head resting on your chest. theres just something so comforting about the position, be it your hands running through his brown locks, your legs hooked over his, or how his hands come up under your shirt and make you shiver, but you let it happen anyway, because you know how much he loves feeling your warmth under his fingertips. 

🎬 neil is terrible, downright terrible at cooking… but he is a genius when the oven mitts come out! his silly little cinephile brain apparently made ample enough space for him to hone his baking skills, and when he’s not working or watching movies or cuddling with you, he’s in the kitchen, flour unknowingly on his face as he beats the living hell out of some poor egg whites. 

“c’mere,” you usher him over, your eyes crinkling at his state: he was wearing a frilly hot-pink tartan apron with a heart-shaped chest — a gag gift you got him last christmas— while he piped chocolate ganache frosting on cupcakes. he drifted over to you absently, eyes still trained on the treats. they snapped straight over to you however, when you leaned in, presumably to give him a kiss, and instead darted your tongue out to lick the frosting on his cheek. “hey!” he gasped, face flushing as he scrambled to wipe away the saliva on his face. “you could’ve just said you wanted a taste.” “wouldn’t get such a cute reaction though, now would i?” you winked. 

🎬 when a song comes on that doesn’t bubble up traumatic juvenile memories, you’re quick to clasp neil’s hand on your own, letting the music take you wherever, be it in your kitchen or at gumshoe video.

“dance with me,” you said, like it was a question, but already pulling neil up by the arm off your livingroom couch. your arms hooked around his neck as his hands rested softly on your waist, a familiar and comforting pressure on the flesh as you two swayed back and forth in tune to the music. “do we have a song?” you wondered, shifting your feet on the hardwood floor and looking up at him through your lashes. “the one from our wedding, probably,” he answered, “but this can be it if you want.” it’s some song you’ve never heard before, but its a good one, something you both like. “sure,” you murmur, turning to the side and resting your head on his chest as he pulled you close, swaying still. “i love you,” you said suddenly, and you heard neil let out a soft exhale of breath. “i love you, too. i think marrying you was the best thing i ever did.” “i think letting the weird new kid sit next to me at lunch was the best thing i ever did.”

All in all, married life with Neil is a dream, and entirely what you expected: you understand him like you do breathing. this love for him is innate, ingrained within you, and you know its the same for him— the love he’s shown you this whole time is the same pure thing, a tender and married adoration.

You know your husband so well you swear you could pick him out of a group by heartbeat alone; how it skips and stutters at the sound of your voice, how his heart pumps with a love only he can provide. There’s no-one else but Neil for you-- no one. 

[oh-look-at-her]

"Use that on me."

Pairing: billy the kid x reader

Warnings: profanity, PinV, unprotected sex (don't be stupid, just babyproof it), dom! And sub! Dynamics, gun play, creampie, degradation, mocking, name calling(i think), small oral fixation if you squint, reader is female

tell me if i missed anything!

Description: despite Billy being a cowboy, he's a sweetheart, especially to you. He treats you like you're a porcelain doll and always makes you feel worshipped. You follow him on his unconventional journeys and tonight, you're staying in an abandoned shack in the woods and your mind wanders to unexplored waters.

A/N: Alright, it's finally here! I'm sorry, it took a bit longer to write than I thought it would when I posted the teaser of this story. I originally planned this to go a bit different, but I'm overall pretty happy with how it turned out even if it did take its own course of action a bit. The ending is a bit rocky, I know, I'm also sorry for that. Regardless of all that, I hope you guys like it! I'd love to hear your opinions or points I can improve on! Lastly I want to say; bear with me, English is not my first language, but I think I checked about everything. I appreciate feedback and if I have anything wrong, please don't hesitate to tell me!

"Use that one me." there it was. It spilled out. You had been thinking it for the last week and now it just slipped out. You were sitting up from the floor which you had covered with blankets in an attempt to make it more comfortable. You had been staring at Billy's gun holster for a while. He had been innocently going on about the road ahead. The journey that would start the day after.

"What?" he hadn't noticed how you kept eyeing his gun. He hadn't noticed how your eyes had glazed over with lust, just thinking about what he could do to you if he tried. He most certainly hadn't noticed how it made you restless. Your body tingled and your skin was on fire.

"I want you to be mean to me. I want you to fuck me like you mean it...and I want you to use your gun on me." A rush of adrenaline had taken over your mind. Or maybe it was just arousal? Who knows? You most certainly don't care.

Billy looks concerned. "W-what? Why?" He mumbles.

You look at him reassuringly. "Oh baby, you know you're always so sweet to me and I love that. But... I don't know, I just..." you don't know what else to say, but it looks like he's understood what you meant.

Billy looks at you for another moment, a bit dumbfounded, before getting up from the floor and walking towards the chair over which his gun holster was hanging. He slowly wraps his fingers around the base of his gun and takes it out of the holster. He looks at it intently before looking back at you.

"You want me...to use this one you?" You nod. "Why?"

You ponder that for a moment, thinking back to all the times he's held that gun up to people's heads. The look in his eyes...was mesmerizing. The lowering of his brows, the tilting of his head, the tug of a smirk on his lips.... So, you tell him exactly that.

He chuckles for a moment at your confession, looking down at the weapon in his hands. It’s a low chuckle, one you had never heard come from his lips before, sultry and enchanting. Your mind runs crazy at the sound. He kneels down in front of you, as you're still sitting on the floor and he looks at you for a moment, analyzing your features.

"You sure about this, Darlin'?" He asks in that same goddamned tone of voice. You nod eagerly at his question, your thighs discreetly rubbing together for any type of friction you could get.

He notices the small movement but doesn't say anything as he gets closer to you, until he's right on top of you and you're face to face with him. He looks into your eyes lovingly for a moment before putting his attention towards the gun still in his right hand.

Slowly, he traces your collarbone with the tip of his gun, testing the waters. When you breathe out a sigh of content, his eyes meet yours again and he knows that what he's doing is exactly what you want.

He slowly traces the gun from your shoulder to your collarbone again. From your collarbone to your neck and from your neck to your jaw. All the while, keeping eye contact with you and noticing how you're reacting to it.

You close your eyes, humming as a small content smile graces your lips. Billy watches every movement you make with the utmost interest. It spurs him on as he brings the barrel of the gun to your lips. You open your mouth obediently, something he hadn’t expected but he didn’t awfully mind. He pushes the gun to lie on top of your tongue. You twirl your tongue around it and Billy can’t help but think about what that pretty tongue of yours would feel like on his cock.

He feels the room getting hot and his pants tightening at these thoughts. But, fuck, are you pretty with your mouth open for him. His innocent girl with a gun in her mouth all because she begged for it. He never could’ve imagined this happening, the poor boy. Not in his wildest dreams. He was surprised, maybe even a bit repulsed at first, but seeing you like this for him is something he can most definitely get on board with.

You go on to suckle gently on the gun and it drives Billy absolutely insane. “Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty like this.” He murmurs to you and you smile. He pulls the gun from your mouth and admires the sheen of spit on it. “Absolutely disgusting.” He whispers to himself and your thighs clench together once more at his words because it is disgusting. You are filthy for wanting him to do this to you.

You just don’t care. You want him to do these things and you couldn’t care less about whether it’s bad or not. If anything, it spurs you on. It’s humiliating, but so, so good.

“Take that off, baby.” He gestures to your nightgown. You quickly obey, surprised by his sudden demanding tone of voice. The usual sweet Billy is no longer there and right now, you very much do not mind. You slip the nightgown off your shoulders, exposing your chest and Billy’s eyes catch on the sight before drifting further down as you push the nightgown off of you. You’re bare before him now and his eyes continue to wander. He’d never done that before. He said he always wanted to be respectful and didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.

He was right, it did make you uncomfortable, but not in the way he had probably imagined. You grow shy under his gaze, but secretly, you love the way he’s looking at you. Hungry, like a predator admiring its prey and playing with it. But that’s not what makes you uncomfortable, no, the growing heat between your legs is what is making you uncomfortable and Billy had barely even touched you.

God, what would it be like when he finally does touch you? Your cheeks flush pink at the thought. Billy notices, of course he does. “What is it, honey? Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ flustered already. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen and I can’t even look at her for a bit without ‘er gettin’ shy?” He’s teasing you, mocking almost. You furrow your eyebrows in frustration at his words and he chuckles. He moves to lie down next to you.

“Come here.” He demands, patting his thigh. You obey quickly, scrambling to move on top of him and straddle his lap. You’re naked on top of him and he’s fully dressed. When you’re travelling, he always stays fully dressed at night, just in case someone sees you both. He lets you wear a nightgown as you please, though. Right now, this proves to be a big contrast and it’s setting your mind on fire. You paw at his clothes and a smirk graces his lips at the desperation on your face. He likes it.

He holds up the gun that was still in his hand, tracing it from your belly to your chest. He smoothes it over your hardened nipple, making you shiver at the feel of the cold metal against your unusually warm skin.

“Might I remind you that I am the one with the gun in their hand right now, darlin’?” he props his left hand to rest behind his head as he continues to move the gun over your smooth skin. Your collarbone, your belly, your neck, anywhere he could reach. The suspense builds up and you can feel your stomach doing backflips as you close your eyes, soothing into the metal touch. But then…. click.

One short ‘click’ sound makes your eyes shoot open. He loaded the gun. Your eyes dart towards his face, a daring smirk on his lips, knowing exactly that that sound would’ve startled you. A shiver runs down your spine at the realization that the gun is actually dangerous right now. He could accidentally pull the trigger and hurt you….you like it.

“What is it, baby? You scared? I won’t hurt you, darlin’. Not unless you ask me to.” Those last words drive you insane and he can see you can’t take it anymore. You paw at his clothes once more, but he gives in this time. He gently lies the gun down next to him and sits up with you still on his lap. You stare at his hands as they slowly but surely unbutton his shirt, finally revealing some delicious skin to you. Once he’s unbuttoned the shirt, it takes everything in you to not start biting and sucking at his skin as he takes it off.

Billy sees the look in your eyes resembling hunger and he smiles to himself. He looks at you for a moment, letting you admire him, before saying; “If you want me to take these pants off, you’re gon’ have to get off of me, baby.” He chuckles as you eagerly climb off of him and he finally takes off his pants, leaving you staring at his obvious hard-on through his underwear.

“Yeah, you want that off too, baby?” he asks in a degrading tone of voice, mocking your desperation as if he hadn’t purposely been building up the tension inside you.

You nod frantically, a small whine escaping your lips at the thought and the degrading tone of his voice. Bily’s surprised at the sheer desperation of you. I mean, just look at you! Sitting there on your knees on the ground right next to him, breathing heavily and a slight sheen of sweat already covering your body, your nipples hardened and eyes low to solely focus on him. It’s driving him insane.

He quickly takes off his underwear at your confirmation, finally lying naked before you. You drink the picture up like you’re a traveler in the desert that hasn’t seen water in days. You climb onto him, your eyes locking with his before pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss is full of desperation and desire as you swirl your tongue over his bottom lip and lick into his mouth as if you’re delirious at the taste of him (which you must admit, is not entirely inaccurate). He deepens the kiss by pulling you in by the neck, his hand having snaked behind you to firmly grasp you and move you as he pleases.

When you come up to catch your breath, he looks at you mischievously. He wants you so bad… but he wants to play with you for a bit. After all, you did ask him to use his gun on you.

He suddenly flips you both around so he’s on top now, grasping his gun in the process so you don’t land on it. It is still loaded, after all. You look up at him adoringly and it melts his heart for a moment. You try to pull him in for another kiss, but he stops you and lets his gun sit on your lips again.

“Just hold on, honey. Didn’t you tell me you want me to use my gun on you?” you nod, eager to find out what your darling boyfriend has planned for you. He smiles at your obedience and then focuses on the gun still resting on your lips. He slowly drags it down again. Down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, your nipple, your belly button… He’s nestled between your legs now, the tip of the gun resting right underneath your belly button.

His gaze flashes to your pussy, your clit already red and swollen, begging to be touched and your pretty hole already so wet with anticipation. “Look at that, baby. You’re so pretty and wet for me, aren’t ya?” he dips his head down slowly and unexpectedly licks a stripe from your hole to your clit, moaning at your taste and making you mewl at the sudden pleasure.

He looks up at you, admiring the pretty look on your face at his sudden action. “hey baby?” you answer with a breathy ‘yeah’. “can I try somethin’?”  you pause for a moment, curious as to what this ‘something’ is, but you quickly say yes at his proposal. He smiles and sits up, slowly dragging the gun with him.

The gun traces down… slowly down to where your pretty clit is aching for Billy to just touch. When the cold metal touches your clit, you squeal softly in surprise, the sensation foreign to you. Bily quickly asks if you’re okay, but the only answer you give him is a low and breathy moan accompanied by a smile.

He traces the gun lower… all the way to your pretty hole. The barrel of the gun catches on it and teases your entrance slowly, warming you up to the feel of it. Soft moans and whines erupt from your mouth and Bily can’t get enough of the sight before him. You, your legs spread out for him, his gun between them, your pretty face while you make those delicious sounds for him. It spurs him on to do what he does next.

He stops teasing your entrance with the gun for a second, but before you can protest or whine about it, he slowly pushes the tip of his gun inside you. Yes, he did it ever so slowly, but he’s having you mewl and moan for him so easily. He slowly keeps pushing the gun inside you (while still making sure you’re okay the entire time) until it’s in as far as it can get. At this point, you’re a puddle for him, all lust and desire for him and your brain has turned to mush.

The gun is soaking with your juices at this point and you feel so good all filled up by it. Billy slowly starts moving the gun out of you until only the tip is left inside you. A guttural moan rips from your throat when he pushes it inside you fully again. He starts fucking you with it, setting a slow but deep pace that has you squirming for more. His dick is growing impossibly hard at the sight before him and he can’t take it anymore. He slowly pulls the gun out of you now, carefully depositing it off to the side.

He slowly drags his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness before stroking his cock with it, spreading your arousal over it. The sight of him pumping his cock in his hand right in front of you has you delirious.

“Baby…” you mewl, reaching for him. “What is it, honey?” he asks gently, “What do you want?”

“Please fuck me.” You say directly and he smiles at that, leaning down to met your gaze. “Yeah?” he asks, slowly dragging his cock through your folds, teasing you and making your moan softly. Your hips buck up into him and he laughs at you. He laughs at you, how mean. You enjoy it, though. You like it when you feel degraded by him.

“Yes, please honey, please…” you beg and he smiles before finally pushing inside you. He stretches you out slowly. Your mouth hangs open and your eyes roll back, a guttural moan escapes you when he bottoms out. He pauses for a moment to let you adjust, but god, is he stretching you out good.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby. My pretty pussy is so wet for me.” he slowly starts moving in and out of you, making you mewl.

” And all because I fucked you with my gun?” His thrusts speed up and you scratch his back as you moan with every one. He grabs your thighs and proceeds to wrap your legs around his waist, making his cock hit a spot impossibly deep inside you.

“You’re filthy, you know that?” he sets a brutal pace, his thrusts hitting that spongy spot inside you so well every time. You cry out and he admires the expression on your face, brows furrowed, jaw slack, eyes rolled back, a hot blush spreading across your cheeks, a sheen of sweat coating your skin.

“Gettin’ off on me threatening you with my goddamned gun" he curses and he can feel you tightening around him at his words, having caught on to the fact that you like it when he says these things to you.

You’re going insane at this rate and you can feel the coil in your stomach tightening already. “I didn’t expect my sweet girl to like those things.” he states, obviously out of breath. "Turn around, baby." He demands before pulling out of you. You whine at the sudden emptiness, but you do as he says, propping yourself up on your knees and resting your head down on the makeshift pillow below you.

He kneels behind you, admiring the way your back is arched and the way your pussy is soaked for him before teasing your entrance with the tip of his dick again. You're about to complain about him not fucking you yet when he suddenly pushes inside you and bottoms out in one thrust.

Your face is pushed down into the pillow and your eyes roll to the back of your skull as he keeps fucking you, setting the same brutal pace as before. He bottomed out every single time, sending waves of pleasure to your core and you can feel your orgasm starting to build quickly.

You try to tell him that you're close, but all that leaves your mouth is moans and rambles. Your brain is foggy with pleasure, but he gets what you're trying to say. "What is it, darlin'? You close? What do you need?" He asks in a mocking tone of voice. You just answer with a whine.

He chuckles at your reaction before reaching in front of you to slowly rub at your clit. You mewl and squirm at the sensation, feeling the coil winding impossibly tighter. Billy's thrusts grow sloppy and you can tell he's about to cum as well.

He sets a fast, calculated pace at rubbing your clit. "Fuck, baby, you're squeezing me like a vice." You whine at his words. "I'm gonna cum inside you." he curses at the thought. "Fuck, I'm gonna fill you up so good, honey."

He's thrusting into you at an ungodly pace and his skilled fingers rubbing your clit is just too much. You cry out as your orgasm washes over you. Your cunt clamps down on Billy's dick, coating him with your cum.

he moans and fucks you through your orgasm. "Shit, baby, I'm gonna come." The movement of his hips stutter as he comes, filling you up just like he said he would, slowly pushing his cum deep inside you with every thrust.

You whine. You're overstimulated and you can't take any more. you claw at his back and he slowly pulls out. "Hey honey, you okay?" he asks gently, cupping your cheek with his hand. you nod and sigh, too tired to keep your eyes open.

Billy lies down next to you, holding you close to him. your sweaty bodies tangle as you both calm down and you both lie there for a while.

"Well." Billy starts after a bit. "That was... unexpected." You chuckle at his words and murmur a small 'yeah' in return.

"Why haven't we done that before?" He asks incredulously. You outright laugh at his question.

"Did you like it then?"

"Absolutely."

Tags: @harvey-malfoy

[redskull199987]

A bright Future

Paul Atreides x fem!reader Word Count:1.4k Warnings:minor Spoilers for Dune Part II, Blood, stab Wound, Violence, you know the drill Summary:You thought you were going to be fine. Until you saw Paul cry. He knew the Rules of the Desert better than anyone else. Seeing him waste his Water so freely told you how serious the Situation was…

Masterlist

It was quiet. Or at least that’s what it felt like. A quiet and short moment, that barely anyone around you noticed. You had always thought getting stabbed would be a sharp pain, naturally. That you’d scream out in pain or drop to your knees. 

But none of that ever happened. It wasn’t a sharp pain, it felt dull and barely noticeable. It was the adrenaline and Spice running through your system. Or that’s what you told yourself. You had to tell yourself something. Something to keep you focused, to tell yourself to not black out. To pull out the blade and kill the Harkonnen Warrior in front of you. 

You felt slow, awfully slow. You thought that if you had been any slower, the Harkonnen might have stopped and laughed at you for ever thinking you could beat him. But Paul and Chani later told you, they had never seen someone move so fast, like you did in that moment.

The Adrenaline, you told yourself again. Over and over again. You had to keep fighting, finish the Mission. Save the Fremen. The people that had become your family, even over the short time that you had been on Arrakis. You just had to make it, that you owed them.

The next few minutes felt like you weren’t even in control of your own body. Like you were a watcher, an observer. It felt like you were back on Caladan, watching a filmbook about the Fremen with Paul. You saw yourself fight against the Harkonnen with Paul while Chani fired her weapon at the Thopters. You saw the Explosion and felt the earth shatter from the sheer power of the blast. It must’ve been the Spice, you thought. Granting you views and visions you weren’t even capable of seeing. As an Outsider, you had always been sensitive to the Melange.

And lastly, you felt the Pain.

The Pain of the weight of the world crashing down on you again. First there was silence, but suddenly you felt everything everywhere all at once. You felt like the sand beneath your feet was pulling you down and no matter how much you fought against it, you couldn’t escape it. Couldn’t escape fate. Couldn’t escape death.

You abruptly came to a halt. Paul’s hand left yours and you saw your two companions run a little further, until they noticed that you had stopped. You heard Paul call out to you and a few seconds later, he came running over to you. His expression was of pure panic when his gaze wandered from your face to your abdomen. You had pressed a hand against it, but it seemed useless. Thick warm Blood was oozing out between your fingers. It felt comforting, somehow. It told you that you weren’t dead, yet. Somewhere in your mind, you heard Stilgar scolding you, every drop of Blood was valuable Water. Water that was now lost in the Dunes of Arrakis.

“Paul?”, You mumbled. You were sure he didn’t even hear you with how quiet you spoke. Your mouth felt awfully dry. But what you did know, was that he saw you fall. And you felt his arms as they wrapped around you, dragging you back to your feet, urging you to keep going. A soft groan left your lips, as you did as he told you. Just a few more meters. A few more meters and you'd be over the next Dune. You’d be safe. You knew that the rest of your people weren’t far away. Neither was Sietch Tabr. You were almost sure that you were going to make it. That was until you saw Paul cry. Saw how his tears dropped into the hot sand, evaporating almost immediately. He knew the Rules of the Desert better than anyone else. And seeing him waste his Water so freely told you how serious the Situation was.

When you reached the top of the Dune, The Spice Harvester behind you exploded, sending the three of you flying down on the other side. Your ears rang from the Explosion. But you barely even acknowledged it. You tightly pressed your hand on top of the Wound as you tumbled down in the sand, but it  was useless. Finally, after what felt like ages, you released a scream. A scream so earth shattering, Paul later told you, he thought he’d lost you in that exact moment.

For a few Seconds, all you heard were your own wheezing Breaths, the blood rushing in your ears and the sand crunching beneath your Body. When Paul and Chani came into view, you heard their Voices. Loud and Clear. You wanted to answer them. Tell them that you were going to be fine.

But you couldn’t. You couldn’t talk and if you could’ve, you didn’t even know if you could promise them that you were going to be alright. You so desperately wanted to talk to them. Talk to Paul. Tell him how much you loved him, that you would follow him to the very end. Talk to Chani, tell her how much you appreciated her, how thankful you were that she took you in and accepted her as one of her own People.

But you couldn’t. All you managed to do was lift your hand, even just a few centimeters above the Ground. And when Paul grabbed your hand, squeezed it ever so tightly, you knew that it was going to be alright. It had to be. it just had to.

And then you blacked out. 

You were older. So much older. At least ten years. Over the time, you’ve had many Spice-induced Visions. Never as strong as Pauls, only snippets. Short moments, often not far into the future, just a few weeks, a month tops. 

But this was different. This was at least a decade into the Future. And it felt so vivid, you almost thought it was real. When you saw your own face, older and more mature, standing alongside Paul and behind a long table that you knew was in the throne room of Arrakeen, many familiar faces gathered around it, alongside with some you didn’t know, yet. You knew you were not dead, you couldn’t be. For what reason would you be seeing this, if you weren’t going to make it. It would be worthless. 

As the Vision started to fade, you saw Paul look at you. Not at the older You, but at you. You who were observing this. And it felt like he could see you, standing there at the other side of the Table, smiling at you like he always did when he tried to comfort you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but there was nothing you could do, as you felt your mind slip out of the vision and back into reality.

You heard all kinds of voices around you, most of them familiar. You felt the bed beneath your body, you smelled the warm air of Sietch Tabr. You knew you were Home. And when you finally opened your eyes, you heard a chorus of cheers break out around you. You saw the warm smile of Stilgar who patted your shoulder before he scurried off to tell the good news to the rest of the Fremen. Next you saw Lady Jessica, your Reverend Mother standing in the Corner of the Room. She gave you an acknowledging nod. You bowed your head in return, knowing that you probably owed her your survival.

Lastly, you saw Chani and Paul who were sitting at your bedside. When your Gaze wandered to them, as you sat up you couldn’t help but laugh. it was a warm and genuine Laugh. You were alive. You had made it and you would live to see them again, the people who mattered most to you. Chani smiled at you in return, gently squeezing your hand, before standing up to join Stilgar and the other Fremen outside.

Paul and You were the only People who remained in the now silent room.

“I thought I’d lost you.”, he finally sniffled. You slowly looked up, seeing that Tears were running down his face. “But you didn’t.”, You answered firmly, raising your hand to wipe away his tears,”So, stop wasting your water.”

Paul chuckled quietly, putting his hand on top of yours, closing his eyes in relief. With a grin, you leaned your head against his, swaying in the warm sun of Arrakis.

“Trust me, we have a bright Future ahead of Us.”