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madewithonerib · 10 months

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John Gills, English Baptist [1748] | Matthew 11:29-30

Take MY yoke upon you,…. [The phrase is Rabbinical]

The Jewish doctors often speak [a] of:

“the yoke of the Kingdom of heaven”, & of persons taking it upon them; and which they exhort to, and express in much such language as here [b];

“take upon you the yoke of the Holy Kingdom” [every single day]

They distinguish this from the yoke of the law, & say: “a man must first take upon him the yoke of the Kingdom of Heaven, & after that take upon him the “yoke” of the commandment.''

Their sense I take to be this, that a man must first make a profession of his faith in the GOD of Israel, & then live conformably to HIS law:

Agreeably to this, CHRIST exhorts such persons who come to HIM for rest & happiness—to profess their faith in HIM, to embrace the doctrines of the Gospel, to submit to HIS ordinances, & to walk according to those laws, commands, & orders, which HE, as KING of saints, has made, & requires obedience to:

So those who come to HIM for life, & believe in HIM, as the SAVIOUR of their souls, though they are not to trust in, & depend on any duties performed by them;

yet we're not to sit still, or lay aside the performance of good works, or live a licentious course of life, but are always to be doing the will & work of their LORD.

And this HE calls “HIS yoke”, in distinction from the yoke of the law of Moses, & of traditions of elders.

And learn of ME, for I am meek, & lowly in heart: respect seems to be had to Zechariah 9:9— where such characters as these are given of the MESSIAH.

The meekness, humility, & lowliness of CHRIST appear in his assumption of human nature — in HIS subjection to HIS FATHER — in the whole of HIS deportment and conversation among men; in HIS submission to the ordinance of baptism; in the whole course of HIS obedience to GOD, & in HIS sufferings & death:

And HE is to be imitated herein, by all HIS followers, may learn many excellent things from HIS example, as well as from HIS doctrine; & particularly, whereas, though HE was so great a person, yet condescended to perform every duty with readiness & cheerfulness

HIS Disciples should not think it below them to conform to every ordinance of HIS, to every branch of HIS will;

for HE has set them an example, they should tread in HIS steps, & walk even as HE walked.

There never was such an instance of humility, and lowliness of mind, as CHRIST; nor any example so worthy of our imitation as HIS.

The Jews have a saying [d],

• “for ever let a man , • “be meek as Hillell”, & let him not be wrathful as • “Shammai“:''

which two men were presidents of their universities about the times of CHRIST. But our LORD says, “learn of ME“, not of “Hillell”, or any of your doctors, & you all shall find rest unto your souls;

referring to Jeremiah 6:16 and which shows the rest HE speaks of in preceding verse, to be not a corporal, but a spiritual one; & which is to be enjoyed “in”, tho not “for” the observance of CHRIST's commands;

whose “ways are ways of pleasantness, & all” whose “paths are peace.”

[a] T. Hieros. Beracot, fol. 4. 1. Bab. Beracot, fol. 61. 2. Zohar in Lev. fol. 46. 4. Caphtor, fol. 44. 2. Tzeror Hammor, fol. 2. 2. [b] Zohar in Num. fol. 51. 2. Caphtor, fol. 48. 2.[[c] Misn. Beracot, c. 2. sect. 2.

Charles Ellicott [1749–1905] | Matthew 11:29-30

[29] Take MY yoke upon you—As the teaching of the Pharisees was a yoke too grievous to be borne, so the yoke of CHRIST is HIS teaching, HIS rule of life, & so is explained by the “learn of ME” that follows. [Comp. Ecclesiasticus 51:26]

I am meek & lowly in heart—The stress lies upon the last words. Others might be lowly with the lowliness which is ambition’s ladder, but pride & self-assertion were reigning in their hearts.

The CHRIST, in HIS infinite sympathy with men of all classes and conditions, could boldly incur the risk of seeming to boast of HIS humility, in order HE might win men to come & prove by experience that HE was able & willing to give them rest, to hear the tale of their sorrows, & to turn from none with scorn.

Ye shall find rest unto your souls—Here, as often elsewhere in our LORD’s teaching, we have a direct quotation from Jeremiah [Jeremiah 6:16].

• Jeremiah 6:16 [Berean] ¹⁶ This is what the LORD says: “Stand at the crossroads and look. Ask for the ancient paths: ‘Where is the good way?’ Then walk in it & find rest for your souls. But they said, ‘We will not walk in it!’

Joseph Benson [1749–1821] | Matthew 11:29-30

Take MY yoke upon you — Believe in & obey ME:

Hearken to ME as a teacher, rely on ME as a SAVIOUR, & be subject to ME as a governor. And learn of ME— Μαθετε απ’ εμου, be MY Disciples;

be taught by ME, namely, all things pertaining to your acceptance with GOD, your duty, and your happiness: for I am meek & lowly in heart—Meek toward all men, lowly toward GOD.

As an instructor, I will show MYSLEF to be most mild, gentle, & forbearing;

kind & condescending toward all MY Disciples, directing them with tenderness, patience, & lenity, in the way to pardon, life, & salvation, not imposing on them any un- necessary burdens:

And, as an example, recommending by MY practice both meekness & humility; meekness by bearing all kinds of injuries, & humility by condescending to do meanest good offices to the meanest of mankind.

Learn, then, of ME to be meek & humble, both in disposition and behaviour; and you all shall find rest to your souls—That composure, tranquillity, & satisfaction which nothing but humility & meek -ness, with an entire subjection to ME, can give.

The original words may be properly rendered, Ye shall find refreshment to your souls, such as you would in vain seek elsewhere;

refreshment, arising from clear manifestations of divine favour, consoling influences of HIS SPIRIT, lively hopes of HIS glory, & sensible communion with HIM.

For MY yoke is easy — Gr. χρηστος, gracious, sweet, benign, agreeable;

MY burden light: Or, pleasant, ελαφρον also signifies.

Such it is to those in whose hearts the love of GOD prevails over the love of the world & sin. To them, the commandments of GOD are not grievous, but delightful.

They love HIS law, & pleasure is in it all the day long.

#agreeable #sweet #gracious #MY yoke is easy #divine favour #refreshment #consoling #influences #Walk in the SPIRIT #lively hopes of HIS glory #communion #Joseph Benson #infinite sympathy

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yeslordmyking · 1 year

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Give thanks to the Lord, call on his name; make known among the nations what he has done. [ Read devo thought and prayer for this Bible verse ]

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ashyllum · 1 month

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𝐓𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐲 (Yandere! Sunday x Reader)

Gn! Reader (sub/bottom reader)

Desperate Pining series - Sunday edition

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

CW: power play, sexual guilt, desperation, mind fuck, mind break, yandere doing yandere stuff, sunday being sunday, conditioning, sunday molding reader

Play the song for best experience

You had made many mistakes in your life, joining the Iris family, your career choice, but none could compare to falling for Sunday, the Oak family's head, daring to pine for him romantically, while all you were a mere performer, hell, not even an innocent singer or actor, you were a host/hostess in a nightclub, a glorified whore.

You could never forget the day you saw the angel, in the club during your shift, as he entertained some family's guests.

The way he walked, talked, moved, breathed, it cause your brain wiring to fuse in mere seconds. He was holy, divine, just a mere look at him, caused your heartbeat to palpate an unhealthy amount.

And Xipe, in all their glory, gazed your way they day, as you were picked to serve his table, god, his melodious voice left you all tingly, breath heavy.

The way he looked at you with such softness, his pretty smile, making you to whimper unconsciously, your thighs rubbing together in your tiny little bunny suit, your pussy wet / cock already dripping pre cum.

So you found yourself moaning and inside a restroom stall, one hand inside your underwear, other in your mouth, to prevent any noise to escape, albeit you were doing a terrible job in it.

Your vision started swirlling around, purple curvy borders around you, as if you're looking at a screen, your mind entirely consumed by thoughts about Sunday, till the second you orgasmed.

It felt, dirty, dirtier than you were used to feeling, as you knelt on the bathroom floor, panting, heart heavy, longing, your body jittery and mind confused at your actions. But most importantly guilt, guilt for lewding someone so holy, a guilt akin to felt when sinning, yet, double as tempting to repeat.

And all those feeling increased exponentially, as you got out the stall, only for your eyes to meet those golden ones through the reflection in the mirror.

"You make such cute noises, there's no need to hold them back," he said, as he turned around and stepped closer to you, your heartbeats resonating with his footsteps, only for your brain to stop working as he took your hand and kissed the area you had bit earlier, staring deep in your eyes.

From that moment on, you memories remains a blur, the kisses, the touch, the luxury hotel room which you could'nt have ever afford, and the tears.

And God, did that strange guilt scare you off, you don't really remember it yourself how you physically jolted at the thought of him penetrating you, daring to refuse the leader of Penacony, making him settle for a sloppy blow job and a thigh fuck, you barely even touching him, making him do all the work.

Yet, the man was gracious enough to let you stay over in the room for the night, blessing you with the opportunity to wake up next to him.

"Won't you pay me back for this opportunity, little sheep?" He asked you, caressing your cheeks gently, his touch akin to a whisper, light, sight, barely there, reminding you how you dared to reject his affection last night.

So you stayed, helping him get ready, buttoning his shirt for him, as he read some texts on his phone, tying his tie, the way he liked, getting him some coffee and breakfast from the breakfast buffet in lounge, because he's too prestigious to mix in common folk, all while he scrutinized you whenever you didn't do the tasks the exact way he liked.

And the second he left the room, you felt hollow, as if your heart had a gaping hole in between as if he took away a part of your soul with him. So imagine the unfathomable amount of joy you felt when Sunday kept frequenting the club more and more, always picking you to serve his table, giving you that kind look, praising you, doing everything in your power to please him, putting extra effort in everything.

All that, only for your heart to break when you heard the whispers about Sunday starting to indulge in some of your co-workers in bed.

Cause, after all, your sin wasn't craving the angel's attention, but to even think you could ever deserve it.

Your weeks your brain stuck on the thought, if the Sunday will come back in club the next day, if he will ask you to serve or not, or will he ask your co-workers, the one who get to lay with him at night. Will he get disgusted by you soon, get tired of pathetic little you.

But till then, those few hours serving were enough, despite the pain and longing, you were willing to suffer if it meant keeping that damn smile in your life.

All such thoughts spiralling in your head 24/7, causing you to get anxious randomly, to the point, your friends started worrying about you. As your self esteem started dwindled down, day by day, as you kept comparing yourself with him.

So it was a shocker when one day the man showed up near the cramped dingy alleyways you live in, greeting you with the same sweet smile, as the first day, you saw him.

You humored the man for some while, best to your capabilities as your breath started to get heavier and heavier in his presence, only able to look at him with a longing gaze, his words flying over your head, till you both stood in silence for a while, your brain to gushy to realize.

"You know, little lamb, you really need to learn some from Sydney," he said, pulling you out of your daydream, gently brushing your cheek with two fingers, then using them to slap your cheeks lightly.

You winced at the name of your co-worker, the one labeled as 'Sunday's favorite',

"I-"

"Invite me to your apartment," he instructed, cutting you off "It's only polite to continue our conversation, inside, right?"

So there you were in your tiny, cramped, studio apartment, he thought of your living condition to be proud, that much was visible on his face, as you brewed him some tea, the most expensive one you had, which was probably too cheap for Sunday's taste, while he chewed your head off on speaking about random things.

But mostly instructing you how to do things properly, like pouring him tea, how to serve him, how to sit properly, and so on. Which you followed diligently, of course, Mr. Sunday, is a kind soul, teaching someone like you, how to behave.

"(Y/n), replace your black net stockings with white ones" he instructed, referencing to your work uniform, before leaving.

So you did, the next day serving him, like a "good boy/girl" those words causing your face to flush, redder than a tomato.

And you got rewarded alright, as he lead you to the same hotel room, from your first night. This time the experience was more sweeter, gentler, yet you still had a break down at the thought of getting penetrated by him.

Heart pounding hard, you got a full-on panic attack this time, getting coddled by Sunday, as he has you sit on his lap, facing him, his dick rubbing against your pretty hole, as he cooed on you, his one hand patting your back, while caressed your face.

"Darling, you had no problem, jumping on Hudson's dick, what's wrong with me?" he asked, out of nowhere, as his hand now grabbed the behind the back of your neck, causing you to whimper.

"W-who?"

"Ah, so you don't remember your clients, huh? How sweet of you, to happily lay with someone whose name you can't recall, over the man, who's been kind enough to hide you in your stupid mistakes"

He sighed, hitting your cheeks with two of his fingers.

"Tell me, my little lamb, what do you think, when you see me?" He asked, his lips laying on your Adam's apple.

"P-preety" you whispered out.

"That so, doll?" he took whispered, taking your hands, and putting it on his face, "if you think, i'm preety lay your hands on me," Sunday said, as you looked in your eyes, an desperate expression in his gold eyes.

To be continued ~

Have you longed for someone so much so, you start feeling disgusting?

Can't you tell I'm desperate? Can't you tell I'm cheap? You don't gotta love me, we don't have to speak I'll see you in the morning, if you gotta leave I'll see you when I see you You Were a Dream - Artemas

(Excuse me if this was bad, It's my first fic and I'm suffering for horrible period cramps )

#honkai star rail #hsr #hsr sunday #sunday #sunday x reader #yandere #honkai star rail x male reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday #hsr sunday x reader #yandere sunday x reader #Spotify

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cozyquinn · 1 year

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Not bad, old man

Hopping on the older!eddie hype here, seeing as its the only thing I've been able to write anything for recently, bloody writer's block. I'm a sucker for age gap fics, so couldn't resist going for the upper end of the age gap here- Eddie is late 40s, reader is written to be 22-24 (these ages are not mentioned in the fic but they are the ones I had in mind when writing)

A/N: I've left reader's description as bare as possible, down to not specifying what clothes are worn by reader to make it as plausible as a self-insert as possible. I hope it doesn't retract any from the fic! Not 100% happy with this one, but hope it suffices!

I have since gone back through and amended parts that perhaps could have been thought through a little better and added bits in to smooth things out a bit!

Also, I do not give permission for my work to be replicated or reposted anywhere.

summary: When Eddie agrees to resume his place in Corroded Coffin for one night as a favour to Gareth, he doesn't expect the Hideout to offer an opportunity to go home with anyone, let alone the pretty girl half his age.

warnings: 18+ smut ahead, minors DNI. Blogs interacting with this work who do not have their age in bio will be blocked.

No established timeframe, NO established relationship, older!Eddie x fem!reader, NO use of Y/N

trigger warnings for: age gap, daddy kink, use of pet names (sweet thing, sweetheart, baby, baby girl), use of 'fetish' or kink related nicknames (Daddy, Sir), p in v intercourse, oral (f receiving, mention of m receiving) spanking with hand, choking aftercare at the end! Please let me know if you find any others, but also note that this list is not exhaustive- please consume content safely and cautiously! If you don't like this kind of content, please just scroll on!

Your sober mind does little to dull out the unpleasantness of the Hideout in all its stale and smoky glory. The unfamiliar surroundings and gawping eyes of older men have you shrinking into the peeling wallpaper.

Only here thanks to the lack of excitement anywhere else mid-week in Hawkins, Indiana, and the promise that the headlining bands didn't always suck, you settle yourself comfortably against the wall.

Swearing to yourself you'd stay sober tonight, you nurse a tepid Coke -if you could call it that- in your hands, the measly dash of ice now fully melted by the heat of your hands and the heavy smoker's breath filling the room; condensation on your glass matching the slow drip of perspiration at the nape of your neck, both cooling your skin some.

A murmured voice announces the headlining band of the night, and you watch as four older men bustle on to the stage; a concoction of greying hair and fading ink that adorns the skin on show.

The band's entrance is blighted somewhat by a commotion amongst the 18-strong crowd; an elderly patron being shooed from the bar for his rather chancey grope at the band's sole groupie's backside.

On the stage, Eddie shakes his head with a smirk, remarking to himself how some things never change. The wrinkles forming around his eyes deepen as he squints into the cheap fluorescent lights blaring down on him.

Breathing in the stale air of his old stomping ground offers him a little confidence, but doesn't mask the time passed since he was last here; reminiscing on days of shooting the shit until early hours and thrashing himself across the stage until his bones ached.

He scans the room finding mostly dull eyes, only partly bothered by the presence of the aged misfits readying their instruments; the overall response not helping to calm his nerves from years of avoiding any kind of stage presence. This appearance was just a favour to Gareth, after all.

That is, until his eyes fall on you tucked quietly to the side of the room. Entirely out of place, but a gracious reprieve from the groaning oldies giving Eddie an age complex in his forties.

He feels a pang, a warmth, radiating from you across the room; he shakes the years from his heavy shoulders, only breaking your eye contact with a confident wink in your direction.

You quirk a smile up at the older metalhead on stage, his eyes glinting back in amusement as his bandmate musters up an anticipatory drumroll behind him; the rumble sent out across the floor lit a flame of energy below your feet, the vibration coaxing boldness through your bones as you sway to the music.

You keep your eyes trained on him throughout the set, darting between the silver strands scattered throughout his brown curls, his strong hands adorned with rings commanding control over the slender neck of his guitar, and the snarling twitches of his lips as he belts out vocals.

In Eddie's mind, the set goes without a hitch- minus the few misplayed notes dotted here and there from a lack of recent practice. 'Not bad for an old timer, huh', he thinks to himself.

He sets down his guitar, letting the guys know he was heading to the bar to wetten his hoarse throat.

Despite his best efforts to resist temptation -to remind himself of his seniority- he finds himself veering towards you where you'd settled on the left side of the bar, taking in your misplaced youthfullness amongst heavy smoke and wrinkled skin.

He approaches you, announcing his presence to your turned back with a kind greeting to the bartender. You turn your head just as his palm gently brushes your shoulder.

"Hey there, sweet thing. Mind if I sit here?" He says, gesturing to the seat to your right.

"Go ahead" you nod, turning to face him as he settles onto the fraying fabric and creaking wood.

"Thanks doll, the name's Eddie"

He reaches for your hand, bringing your knuckles to his chapped lips; a blush rising from your chest as you garble out your own monicker with as much composure as you can muster. A tarnished ring catches your finger as he gently pulls his hand away, electricity seering through your palm in its wake.

"I see you stuck around for the set. What'dya think?" He keeps up the conversation, a warm smile never leaving his face.

"Yeah, I saw you up there. You were pretty good, for an old man" You quirk your shoulders, a sly grin gracing your soft features as you eye him up from your periphery; doing anything to force a calm facade amongst the flurry of entirely inappropriate thoughts breaching your mind as you eye him up close.

"Oh, low blow. You wound me sweetheart" He chuckles with a hand held mockingly to his chest, any suggestion of real hurt in his voice dampened by the deep-set grin adorning his face. He continues before you can respond.

"What's a pretty little thing like you doing here, anyway? Would'na taken this place to be your kind of scene"

You shrug, dipping your head to focus in on your fingers fidgeting against the cup in your hands, doing your best to hide your blush from his attentive eyes.

"I guess I was just looking for something different. I'm sick of all those hyped up bars charging twice the price and offering glorified karaoke as headline bands, you know?" You say, a mischievous glint in your eye as you watch him through your eyelashes.

This earns you a deep chuckle, the gruffness settling heavily on your chest and lighting a warmth under your skin.

"Yeah, I get that" he nods, his eyes squinting in thought for a second.

"Uh, can I get you a drink? Least I could do since you stuck around for the whole set?" Eddie's eyes light up at his own gentle humour, a kind smile settled on his lips to keep you sweet.

Smiling sweetly in thanks for the offer, you reply.

"Oh, I'm not drinking tonight. Not alcohol anyway, just sticking to whatever sugar saturated crap this is supposed to be."

You raise your half-full cup to him with a laugh, trying desperately to ignore the throb settling between your thighs with each look he sends your way.

He laughs deeply, nodding understandingly at your response. He shifts on his seat, his calloused fingers reaching to scratch at the base of his neck.

"I forgot how humid this damn place gets" His voice is hoarse with age and strain but smoothens out with a cough.

He stands, shrugging off his thinning red flannel to reveal a plethora of faded ink dotted down his arms. Your eyes settle on the slightly blownout bats rounding his forearm; wondering what else could be hiding beneath the black shirt left hugging his torso.

Your heart thumps a little harder as your eyes scan out wider, along his broad shoulders and down towards his covered navel. The heavy breath leaving your lips thickens the air around you, winding around your throat in a way you imagine Eddie's rough hand would.

You're cruelly brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Eddie's voice above you.

"Hey darlin', you got a lil bit'a drool right-" he pauses, bringing his forefinger to the corner of his upturned mouth and brushing the greying fuzz above his lip.

You bring your hand up to your face with speed, frantically wiping and prodding at your lips; your mind burning with embarassment, your cunt betraying you with a clench.

He leans down, the scratch of salt and pepper scruff along his jawline tickling your cheek as his supple lips tease the shell of your ear. A gentle whisper sending a flush from your cheeks to your gently throbbing cunt.

"I'm just teasing ya, sweetheart" He takes a small breath before continuing.

"But don't think I haven't seen you eyeing me up. Didn't your daddy ever tell you it was rude to stare?"

His words punch a gasp from your chest, and his sly grin darkens the red tinge adorning your cheeks.

With eyes wide and pupils blown, you lean back. Your mouth agape, lips lightly trembling, as you search your clouded brain desperately for a response.

Eddie beats you to it, his right hand now gently approaching your cheek, his forefinger outstretched to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear; the clench of your thighs doesn't go unnoticed.

A quiet whimper leaves your lips as he brings you closer, his rough palm now caressing your neck. His thumb gently rubs along the vein pulsing through your skin, applying enough pressure to have your eyes fluttering closed and your hands reaching up to his tousled curls for purchase.

Without a second thought, your lips are on his. Chapped against smooth, you taste a hint of settled smoke and mint. You deepen the kiss, wanting to taste more of him. His rough tongue fights with yours, experience overpowering desperation.

His hands map out the path of your body, cupping and pinching in all the right places before they settle on your ass. Experienced fingers pressing into your flesh with a delicious sting, soothed by the lick of cool metal. His lips leave yours as he trails kisses along your chin, suckling a sweet red bud into your skin where your neck meets your jaw.

His mind fights an internal battle. He knows better, you've got to be at least half his age, but the aching pulse from his cock wins over.

"How about I show you what this old man can do, huh?" He growls into your ear, pulling you up onto your tiptoes as he nuzzles his strong nose into your throat.

You squeak out a "yes", the word drawling into a squeal when his teeth nip at your soft skin.

"Was hopin' you'd say that"

With that, he's leading you towards the door, leaving behind any semblance of your control and the now-flat cola you placed clumsily onto the bar.

Your feet stumble slightly underneath you as you try to keep up. The thrash of your thighs against each other with each small misstep eliciting a feeble whine from your lips.

Disregarding the call from Gareth across the room, Eddie thrusts you both out into the crisp air; gently draping the thin material of his flannel over your shoulders as he leads you to his van parked in the lot just a few feet from the door.

Throwing himself into the drivers seat with an urgency he thought he lost in his thirties, Eddie starts the engine and whips the van out of the lot quicker than your hazy mind can keep up with.

Your pulse races to the thrum of the engine, Eddie's hand squeezing your supple thigh leaves you twitching and aching for more; thanking all that's holy for the short distance between the Hideout and Eddie's trailer when he parks up.

He helps you out of his van, his arm flexing around your waist as he half-carries you to the threshold of his front door; swinging it open gently with the rattle of rusting keys.

"Sorry sweetheart. It ain't much, but it's mine" he murmurs, lightly gesturing to the small space of his living room.

You shake your head, a whispered reassurance of his home's perfection slipping through the crack of your swollen lips, you grasp his forearms with desperation, hoping he'll feel the throb of your hole through your hands.

Eddie seems to get the message, pointing in the direction of his room, sealing his promise of joining you in a moment with a kiss.

You rush to his room, peeling your outer layers of clothing from your body, fondling your breasts and teasing the slope of your hips as you go. Unclasping your bra, you toy with the straps in a teasing game, edging yourself with fingertip caresses against your skin.

A hungry grunt behind you grabs your attention, halting your sweet touches. You turn, gently circling your shoulders to tease away the straps sitting pretty on your clavicle.

You spread your arms out infront of you, sending your bra tumbling to the floor; a gentle request for closeness, your skin screaming to be touched.

Standing in just his underwear, Eddie's eyes trace your figure from top to bottom, his chapped lips being soothed with the brush of his tongue across them; you parallel his softness with a harsh bite to your bottom lip as your eyes follow the path of his tattoos to the bulge tenting his boxers.

The only reminder of his age sits at the edge of his eyes, the lines there softening his rugged look. He gives you little time to admire his mature but toned body as, with a feralness you've never before experienced, Eddie has you pinned to the bed.

His hips hold yours to the mattress, the giration of his pelvis offering sweet, agonising relief to your swollen clit through the layers of fabric.

He pulls away, planting hot kisses down your body with a desperation unmatched, the tickle of coarse stubble against your skin soothed by the drag of his warm tongue.

As he reaches the peak of your mound, your jittering hands inch down to circle your thumbs across his cheeks. His deep brown eyes settle on you, committing your vulnerable beauty to memory.

Your fingers loop through his hair, his silver curls adorning your digits like delicate rings as you rut your hips towards him. A sweet whine is all it takes to beckon the touch of his thick fingers through the cotton modesty of your panties.

You writhe and whine, begging for more; the blush of your cunt calling to his cock like a siren's song to a sailor. A slow stream of arousal fills your panties, hollowing the material to show the empty clench of your heat.

"Please Daddy"

It's barely a whisper but Eddie hears it, clear as a bell. His eyes widen for a moment, mirroring your disbelief at the words uttered from your mouth, before he's smirking into your clammy skin.

"What was that baby? Want to repeat that for me?"

You whine, shaking your head as your desperation fights shame. You squeeze your eyes shut and plead, "please Daddy, need you"

He smirks to himself. Whispering so low you'll never hear, "Daddy kink, huh. Should've guessed that one".

Raising his voice enough to flood your senses, his words ring out.

"Sweet little girl wants more, huh?" The smirk evident in his words.

He settles a rugged finger under your chin to coax your gaze back up to his, holding you there whilst you squirm; tears brimming your stinging eyelids.

"No need to cry sweetheart, Daddy's got you" he promises with a gentle tug and pull at the waistband of your panties until they hang idly from your ankle.

He wastes no time in blessing your bundle of nerves with his experienced tongue, branding the Munson name into your skin amongst calculated figure-of-eights.

You sob sweet nothings into the heavy air as his fingers breach the cusp of your entrance. His free hand takes purchase of your chin, curling you in on yourself to watch as the tattoos decorating his knuckles disappear into your heat with a squelch.

The cold sear of his rings against your sore folds has you hissing under your breath; each plunge of his fingers offering a new sweet wetness over the shimmering metal.

You beg to repay the favour, offering him your desperate mouth, as a blinding pressure builds in your core. He reassures you "next time baby", as you soak his fingers, extinguishing the flame of the inked candle on his middle finger with your wet.

Leaving you no time to regain your breath, his mouth is on your lips, your cheeks, your throat. Plump lips caressing your skin as the throbbing head of his cock kisses your entrance.

You whine as he enters you, the stretch unholy as you adjust to his size. His heavy balls rest against your pert arse and his hazy smile tells you he's exactly where he wants to be.

"That's it baby girl. Feels good, huh? Old man still got it?"

He taunts you with your earlier jabs. The curve of his cock relentlessly prodding at your aching walls, sweetening the sting of his jeering.

Flashes of white appear in your vision with each harsh thrust of his hips and snarl from his chest, and you grind your hips further down on to his pulsing cock.

You nod frantically to answer his question, your hands caressing his still-soft skin before puncturing your nails through the swell of his shoulders.

His desperation starts to show, his calloused hands slipping beneath your backside to hold your hips at an angle. His tip kisses your cervix, punching harsh moans from your chest as his thrusts start to falter.

"Gonna cum, sweetheart. Tell me where you want it"

Your head lolls back as you whimper a pathetic "inside me Daddy, please", your own words driving you over the edge to your honey-sweet climax as you quiver beneath him.

His cock throbs inside you, each flex against your walls sending aftershocks through your spent body. His forehead rests against your breasts, both of you rapidly chasing steady breath. As you calm down, he gently removes himself from you, rubbing soothing circles into your hips to lessen the sting.

"I'll be right back babygirl", he whispers into your cheek with a kiss, leaving the room momentarily to grab a damp cloth to clean you up.

You turn to him once the rise and fall of your chest has steadied, your bleary eyes finding adoration staring back. He smiles widely at you as he pulls you in close to his side, but you're the first to speak.

"You okay?", you ask quietly with a smile, not wanting to disturb the moment.

"More than okay. How you holdin' up, sweetheart?"

You only nod in response, your gentle eyes reassuring him that you were doing just fine.

His smile widens, a mischievous glint taking form as your eyes flutter closed.

He chuckles to himself, the vibration of his chest caressing your cheek as his gruff voice fills the air again.

"Not bad for an old man, huh?"

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson one shot #older!eddie #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie x you

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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months

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Worshipper!Ghost who wholeheartedly believes Reader's actually a deity. He can't see You as someone who's simply a mortal, someone who's only a deity because he thinks You are. No, You must be an actual deity, You have to be.

You're too kind, too divine. You exude power in Your gracious actions, how You so kindly love him. You decided he was worth Your love and attention, was worth being in Your presence. Who could love a man like him if not for a deity?

And so he believes You're a deity so much that he loudly proclaims it to anyone who will listen. He regals them with Your accomplishments, Your holy actions. It's a bit much, most people think, but no matter what they say, he will stand firm in saying You're a deity.

Until his entire worldview changes when You get sick.

Ghost's heart is torn into two as he watches You get sick, with mere mortal cold. Of course, he still is the best worshipper he always is, tending to Your needs. He doesn't leave Your side, feeding You nutritious food, helping You drink water. He helps You fight the cold, bringing color back to Your paled skin until it's to its former beauty and glory again.

One would think Your sickness would cause him to see reason, to see that You are not the deity he thought You were. But he doubles down on his belief, feeling so grateful that he was deemed worthy enough for You to come down to the mortal realm in a mortal form. That's why You got sick, You took on a mortal form that could get sick with mortal diseases.

For him.

How gracious You are, not only giving him Your divine presence but also being mortal for him. It makes Ghost love You even more, worship You even more reverently.

He whispers thanks to You every time he kisses You anywhere, whether it's Your temple, Your lips, Your hands, or Your fingers. Every place You let him kiss and hold the mortal form You've taken to be with him is a privilege he cherishes.

"Thank You," he murmurs in between kisses as he kisses Your knuckles, his hold on Your hand so gentle and loving. "Thank You for deeming me worthy. I love You, my deity."

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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thebelugawhalefriend · 4 months

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Many Loving Kisses - Yan!Royal Harem x Reader

PART TWO

CW: Yandere themes, Fem reader, Homophobia, Polyamory, FxF and MxF, Slight mentions of religion

Note: This is based on a dream I had a while back that actually opened up the idea of polyamory being healthy to me. While the dream involved an emperor from Japan and his harem, I'm very worried about writing for a culture I'm not completely learned up on. So! I've written it to fit a Medieval setting ^^

"The King has requested your daughter's hand in marriage." A messenger read from his scroll upon a white stallion, your parents looking on in shock. "His Majesty? But... Why our daughter?" Your mother starts, but her partner puts her hand on your mother's shoulder. "Do you dare ask why our gracious King would bestow upon you a dowry for your daughter? After he pardoned the unholy sanctity of your union?" It's then your other mother, "Auntie", steps in with venom in her tone. "Now you listen here, you brute... My wife didn't dare insult the king! She simply asked why he would want to take our only child away from us. Disgracing our union is unnecessary!"

To this, the messenger seethes. Withdrawing from his horse, the towering brute of a man steps closer to your mothers. "He did request that anyone unwilling to hand over the bride to be shall be taken to be executed. Would you prefer I end your lives? I'll be more than happy to-"

"Stop!" You immediately waved your arms up, trying to get in the middle of the dispute, "I'll go- please! Just don't hurt my mom and auntie...!" It was now their turn to look upon you with shock. "Baby..." Your mother lifts her hands to hold your face. "You don't have to do this. We'll do anything to keep you safe-" "Mama, it's not worth sacrificing your lives over something like a marriage. I love you both too much to see someone take your lives..."

Sundown's pink hues darken the skies as you wave your final goodbyes to your moms. To ensure you wouldn't change your mind, some of the men who had tagged along with the messenger tied you tight and carried you upon horseback. While your parents were paid a great sum for your hand, you couldn't help but worry about what the king's wife would think. How would this work? Would she be okay with the king having you as a second wife? Of course, his first wife will still be Queen... But what will you be?

Nightfall approaches as soon as the men who carried you in tow arrive at the gates. The king, in all his glory, looks upon the arriving carrivan with great disdain. The messenger leads on with pride in his chest and eyes. "My King, we've brought your bride to be as you requested!" "And you tied her like an animal to a slaughter?!" The king's sharp tone immediately deflated the messenger's ego. "I- uhm- It wasn't I who requested she be bound like that! Men, what have you done to our lady? At least treat the maiden with class!" The crew hastily undoes your ties as the messenger puffs out his chest yet again. Though, the king seems unimpressed.

"I've had quite enough trouble with the likes of you, Stephen. You treat your job as if I bestowed upon you a knight's status... One more misuse of your power and I'll have you imprisoned for the rest of your days." His golden eyes now fall upon you, gaze softening upon seeing your figure. "As for her, let her come and follow me. She's to be acquainted with my wife before any plans are set in motion."

Now, it's hard to not fall for a king so handsome. Stunning muscular features, a chiseled face as if a sculptor carved him from marble, and long curls of red hair pulled onto a loose ponytail. Freckles mark his face and skin like stars and constellations, with multitudes of scars connecting them. You start to wonder if God personally painted him to look like a galaxy... "I do apologize for how my men have treated you. It's difficult to find men as honorable as my own knights, dearest (Y/N)."

"You... Know my name, Your Highness...?"

"Why wouldn't I? You've been all my wife has been talking about for the past few weeks! It took me the longest time to come around to the idea but... One look of who she spoke of and I couldn't agree faster."

"King Fl-"

"Please, you may call me Rose." His smile is so warm, it brought your face to a rosy red. The tenderness of his words... That spark in his eye... It's hard to believe that this would be yours to even have, not to mention have his wife willing to share!

Once you both happen upon an ornate willow door, Rose gives it a gentle knock. "Darling?" A soft voice calls from inside the room. "Is that you?" "Yes, my dearest wife! I have brought someone you'd most adore to meet..." "Oh! But Rose, I'm just about indecent! Visitors can't gaze upon me right now..." The red haired man rolls his eyes with a bright smile, "Oh, alright, I suppose (Y/N) can wait a few moments longer."

With that, the door creeps open. "Please, let her come in!" You swallow a large lump in your throat, trotting in carefully. The inside of the room is spacious and rather decorated- even for a queen. Paintings of fables and animals decorate the walls, each framed with delicately carved wood. Walls themselves were murals of flowers and leaves, furniture threatening to overflow with delicate knick knacks and jewelry. What catches your eyes is the large pink bed with sheer canopies of white hanging over. On the sheets sit a tall and curvy woman. Eyes a striking purple and hair as black as a raven's plumage. What stands out most about her are her larger than life scars along her collarbone. While Rose's own were small, hers looked like she had fought a wild beast... The only thing that covers her is a purple nightgown, only going so far as to cover most of her thighs.

"You must be (Y/N)." She stands from the bed, brushing off her legs and looking at you with a bright smile. The mere sight of her vulnerability brings a deep blush back to your cheeks. "M-My Lady... I'm honored to... Uhm... Meet you!" You try to curtsey, but the queen merely laughs at your attempt and approaches your feeble form. "Please, there is no need for formality, little one! From now on, you can call me Azalea. But, any amount of nicknames will do." With that, she reaches her hands to your face and cups them along your jawline. "Look at you... You're so beautiful... So joyous and kind... I knew from the moment I saw you, I would love to have you marry my husband and I!"

It wasn't too long ago you met the queen. Only about a month, if you had to make a guess. She had been making her rounds along town in disguise despite her husband's protests. That's when she happened upon your family's stall. Adorned with colors and beads, it immediately was obvious that you were all selling jewelry. "Greetings!" You beamed from the stall, the queen's attention caught on you. "Would you... Actually, hold on a moment." The curious monarch watched on as you picked through one of the racks of necklaces. From them, you picked a particular piece- An orange and red beaded necklace with a ruby as the showpiece. "You look like someone who could use a little more red-"

"Oh no, I can't- I'm sorry, I don't have any..." While the Queen fretted this potential trick, you put your hands onto her own. "I didn't say you had to pay for the piece. I... Actually made that one myself. I would be honored to have someone as beautiful as you wear it." She was quick to catch onto your "flirting", to which she laughed and looked into you. "If I didn't have a husband, I would snatch you right up! If only men were so flattering as you are." You gave her a little look of confusion, "I didn't mean to try and take you as my own- Oh, but I would if you wanted me to-! Just uh! Uhm..." That assumption brought a great fluster to your face. "I genuinely mean it, miss. I have a great feeling about you! I don't often get them but... Mom says when you get that feeling, you just have to... Put it into action. Does that make sense?" The tall woman laughed again, "Absolutely not, but I appreciate the gift you've given me. Perhaps fortune will be as giving as you are..."

At the time, you didn't even realize just what her status was. It wasn't until this very moment of her hold on your face that you finally could recognize her.

"You were that lady I met last month, weren't you?" Azalea beams with amusement, her familiar laugh ringing in your ears, "It took you long enough to figure that out! Ah, but don't you worry about it, just proves my disguise is effective." As she keeps you in conversation, her body urges you to join her on the bed. By that, it's merely a hand pulling you to the mattress and a gentle push urging you to sit. With you next to Azalea, Rose peeks right in with curiosity.

"How are my wonderful girls?" He steps right in, Azalea sticking her tongue out and pulling you in for a protective hug. "This one shall be my own wife! You can't have her, Rose!" Her tone is playful, but for a moment, you could have sworn you saw that primal desire of possessiveness. "Oh, you wound me, darling! I paid her dowry, only for her to be snatched away?" He comes in closer, leaning into his wife with that exact same look. "I don't think so... Come here!"

The redhead pulls you and Azalea in for a tight embrace. Between his muscular chest and Azalea's soft breasts, you're sure you will suffocate under this pile of affection. Though, it isn't long until he pulls away to let you breathe. "Goodness, my apologies (Y/N)! I should be more careful with my two favorite flowers..."

Their gentleness and affection all reminds you of your moms. How they would shower you with affection and each other with love. It brings a certain ache to your heart, but... You'll see them again, right?

"King- Sorry, Rose?" "Yes, my flower?" "What will become of my moms?" Your freckled lover pauses for a moment, "Your mothers? What of them? They've been compensated for your dowry." "When will I see them again?" This time, Azalea comes in to answer. Her limbs wrap around you and pull you into her lap by the waist. "Oh, my dear, we can't have you wandering about in public! You'll be a spectacle out there! Besides, you'll already have a lady who will care for you every day..."

"But... What of my friends?"

"What of them? They'll get to watch you marry us! Besides, you'll have a man who will be your company from dawn until dusk." While Azalea holds you, Rose brings a hand to your chin and strokes it lovingly. That facade of care was quickly starting to feel like a trap you've fallen into.

"That's... Lovely and all! I really do appreciate that I'll be spending my days with you both. I just worry that... Well, you both have many duties as king and queen. Surely I could be allowed outside...?" Both of the lovers freeze. It's as if you admitted to murder! The tension of the room grows thick like butter, with Rose's gaze turning from soft to absolutely enraged. Yet, his tone is still calmed. Too calm.

"My darling little flower..." His grip on your face tightens, "The outside is far too dangerous for you to venture into. You're to stay here with us and be our company. Do you understand me?" Your eyes widen and you nod feverishly, Rose letting out a sigh and pulling back. Azalea turns you slightly so you could look into her honeyed look using those familiar amethyst eyes. "Don't let it scare you so easily, loveliest... We love you! We won't hurt you if we don't have to. We'll keep you safe here... No matter how hard it'll be!"

#yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #imagines #x reader #yandere crush #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n

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callsign-venus · 6 months

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I'll Be Home for Christmas | Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

Description: With Bradley on deployment, you don't find the Christmas season as cheery as usual. The Daggers make it their mission to help you get into the holiday spirit. Cue intensely competitive gingerbread house decorating competition.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Fluff with a teeny dash of angst. Drinking. That’s pretty much it. Really just self-indulgent, friendship-heavy fluff with lots of pining. Enjoy x

Nat King Cole’s voice dances out of your record player has you put the finishing touches on your cranberry Aperol spritzes. Their cherry warm color makes you smile despite yourself.

You have always loved Christmas, but this year it hits you like a truck – and not even one with a tree strapped on top. All the little traditions that usually warm your heart with holiday cheer feel just plain sad to do alone. You had a tremendous battle with your artificial tree, which fell on you twice. You were proud of yourself for not crying, and in the end you were able to admire all of its eight feet of glory. Then you remembered you had to light the whole thing. Two hours later, you had undone no less than three tangles of light strands, found out two of them were dead (and all your untangling had been for nothing), and had one big cry fest for yourself. Not even a steaming cup of cocoa made you feel better after that disaster.

Wrapping presents for your friends and family, rewatching all your favorite Christmas movies, and driving around rich people neighborhoods to admire their lights hadn’t gone as poorly, but they all made his absence grow harder to ignore.

When Bradley told you his deployment would last through the holidays, you struggled to keep your disappointment to yourself, though you’re sure he could see it shining in your eyes. As much as you would miss him during the holidays, you knew it was worse for him, with only emails and skype calls for comfort – no silly little Christmas rituals to occupy his mind.

“You need help in here?” Natasha’s voice jolts you out of your pity-party spiral.

“No, I just got distracted,” you say, scooping up two of the spritzes and offering her one. “Let’s get this party started.”

Phoenix smiles and accepts your cocktail. She herself had just gotten back from her own deployment, and pretty immediately sensed your holiday ennui. She was the one who suggested this festive evening, and you’ve never been more grateful for her friendship.

While you were listless in the kitchen, she had assembled the most perfect gingerbread house making station you’d ever seen: frosting packed into several near-bursting bags, candy canes arranged in perfect rows, gumdrops with a shimmering dusting of sugar, and a scattering of gingerbread roofs and walls waiting patiently to be dressed.

“Wow, Nat, this looks great.”

“Thank you. I’m sure the boys will mess it up in three seconds flat, but at least you appreciate it.”

As if on cue, your front door bursts open, and a clot of merrily dressed sailors spills into your home, arms stacked with presents for Secret Santa. You point to the open space under the Christmas tree, and quickly your and Natasha’s presents are joined by all the others.

After the presents are unloaded, you and Phoenix are engulfed in hugs. Fanboy is wearing a Santa hat, and he has two in hand that he passes to you and Phoenix, insisting that you put them on right now. You happily oblige, as you’re inching closer to how you usually feel during the holidays now that you’re surrounded by friends. Even Jake is cheery, having rocked up in an ugly Christmas sweater covered with bows and tinsel, which is bizarre yet comforting. You do your best not to think about the person you wish was here most, as the Daggers seem dead set to help you have a great Christmas despite his absence.

“This is for you, our gracious host.” Bob hands you a potted poinsettia. “Thanks for putting up with us.”

“It’s really no problem,” you insist as you place the flowers on the side table by your couch. “I love you all.”

He runs a hand through his hair. “Still, we’re a lot, I know.”

He’s not wrong – Coyote and Payback have already found the spritzes and Fanboy’s popped three gumdrops into his mouth – but you don’t mind. Even when the gingerbread house decorating competition starts. Calling it a competition might be an understatement. The Daggers are more than competitive, especially about inconsequential things. Nobody speaks as they draft their houses in bright white icing and stud them with decorative candies. The only way to get them to quiet is through arts and crafts, you muse as you decorate your house with swirls of icing like snow drifts and tiny snowflakes dotting the roof and walls.

The sabotage begins early, when Hangman reaches for a bowl of peppermints and not-so-subtly brushes his hand over Phoenix's roof, smearing the frosting.

“Hey asshole,” Natasha says. “That’s my house.”

“Oh really? Looks like you got a little smear there.” Jake slides a finger across Phoenix’s carefully piped shingles, messing up her roof even more.

“You’re a dead man, Seresin.” Nat narrows her eyes. She won’t go for Jake’s gingerbread house, she’ll bide her time. You’re glad you’re not Hangman right now.

“Got anymore spritzes?” Coyote asks you.

You nod your head. “In the kitchen, help yourself.”

When Coyote gets up to refill his glass, Fanboy snatches his piping bag and swaps it for his almost empty one. While Fanboy’s distracted, Payback helps himself to the pile of Twizzlers Fanboy’s been hoarding since the beginning of the competition.

“Who is even going to judge these?” You ask almost absentmindedly as you stand a gingerbread couple together at the door of their house with copious amounts of frosting. “We all know whose house is whose.”

There’s a smattering of laughter.

“We’ll figure it out after Secret Santa,” Nat assures you as she completes the retiling of her roof, the eaves perfectly punctuated with peppermints.

Before you can question the logic of that solution, Bob asks for your opinion on colored versus strictly green and red gum drops.

“Hey, no helping the competition,” Fanboy complains.

“What?” You level a heavy gaze on him. “Scared you won’t win if Bob and I combine forces? I would be.”

“I’m just saying, this should be a fair contest,” he says.

You shrug him off and answer Bob, but in the spirit of sabotage, you neglect to tell him about the frosting dried on his cheek.

Even though you’re risking your gingerbread house’s safety, once you’ve finished, you slip into the hall. You refresh your inbox on your phone, and you smile as you see an email from Bradley.

Subject: Miss you

Hey pretty girl. Been missing you all day today. Wish I was there to hang stockings and give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen. Don’t forget to hang it – you can leave it up until I get back. Don’t have a lot of time, but I just wanted to let you know that I love you and I can’t wait to come home to you.

Your heart flutters, as it always does when you get an email from him. You quickly type out a response.

Subject: Miss you more

Hey hot stuff. I’ve already hung the mistletoe and have no plans to take it down until you make me see stars under it. I miss doing holiday things with you (you really know how to wrangle the tree), but Nat especially has been helping me through it. Still, I really miss you. All I need is your arms around me and everything will feel right again. Can’t wait to see you again.

You press send and sigh. You never want to complain – it’s Bradley who had to live on an aircraft carrier for months at a time – but sometimes it feels so unfair for two people to be so in love and yet spend the holidays all alone.

You give yourself a moment to collect yourself before you go back to the increasingly hostile competition. Jake has icing in his hair – you know Phoenix is responsible, but her wrath won’t end there – and Payback’s house had a giant fist-sized crater in the roof. Surely unrelated, Coyote’s knuckles are dusted with gingerbread crumbs. You couldn’t help the smile the chaotic scene pulled from you. Especially since your gingerbread house remains in pristine condition.

You thank Nat for watching over it, and she responds with a bright smile. “No problem, I can’t have the boys messing up your Christmas celebration.”

“Hey!” All the boys except Bob protest in unison. Phoenix raises her brows, point proven.

Once all of the gingerbread houses are complete and aligned in a row like a candied neighborhood block, the party shifts toward the Christmas tree. Bob distributes presents to each of you. Yours is an envelope, and you know it is from Nat. Your name is written on the thick, cream paper in Nat’s graceful script, which you know like your own after years of friendship.

“No one can beat my present,” Nat boasts as she catches you studying the envelope.

“Oh we’ll see,” Coyote says.

You swallow down a little lump, seeing everyone around the tree without Rooster. Though you love and appreciate your friends, the emptiness of his presence is almost smothering.

Your mood warms when Jake volunteers to go first. You’re his Secret Santa, and just as you predicted, he loves the smartphone-controlled paper airplane you got for him. He opens it and has it folded in a matter of seconds. He syncs it to his phone, and his first flight ends with the plane crashing into Coyote’s head.

“Durable.” Hangman remarks as he picks up the paper airplane, which holds its shape just fine.

“Asshole.” Coyote replies.

Payback is next, and he gets a bottle of scotch from Jake. You don’t know much about scotch, but from Payback’s reaction, you can tell it’s a really nice bottle.

Coyote gets Bob a navy Aran sweater, which Bob wastes no time throwing on.

“Feel how soft!” Bob says as he smothers Coyote in a hug. Cue three minutes of Bob inviting everyone to touch his sweater – you can’t blame him, though, it is really soft.

Bob’s gift to Coyote makes you wonder how Nat is going to top it. Bob made a crochet version of Taffy, Coyote’s miniature pinscher.

“Thank you, I love it.” Coyote cradles the crocheted dog tight, and you wonder if you’re just imagining the tremble in his voice or if he’s actually about to cry.

“Come on Javy,” Jake says, “don’t go all soft now.”

Fanboy gets a countertop pizza oven from Payback, which instantly becomes one of his most prized possessions based on the sheer amount of pizza he consumes.

“Thanks, man.” He gives Payback a friendly punch on the arm. “You all have to come over for pizza night.”

You all hum in agreement. Fanboy’s pizzas are amazing, and you wouldn’t mind spending another night with everyone together. Well, almost everyone. You swallow down the lump in your throat.

Phoenix opens her gift from Fanboy slowly, as if she’s afraid of its contents. She peels back the shiny green paper to reveal a charcuterie board and a set of cheese knives with wooden handles that match the board. She hugs it close to her chest and mouths thank you across the room to Fanboy, who doesn’t notice because he’s reading the pizza recipe included with his oven.

Finally it is your turn. All eyes in the room land on you, strangely sober despite the freely flowing spritzes. You give Phoenix a quick glance as you slide a finger under the flap of the envelope, but her expression is unreadable.

“It's a…” you say as your fingers graze a satiny band of fabric. “Blindfold?”

You hold it up for everyone to see. Everyone’s expressions are carefully arranged to not convey anything. Not quite the laughter you were expecting. A sense of uneasiness blooms in your stomach.

Nat stands up and takes the blindfold out of your hands. Quicker than you can think, she’s tying it around your head.

“What is going on?” You ask.

She finishes the bow and pats your shoulder. “Just you wait.”

A few suppressed snickers fill the room and make your uneasiness melt into dread. The gentle shush of a door opening and closing makes it worse.

“I swear, if you guys are ‘How the Grinch Stole Christmas-ing’ me right now I will be so angry.”

The silence that falls after you speak is so, so loud. No one turned the record, so even Nat King Cole is quiet. But then you hear it. It’s hard to explain, but you’d know that breathing anywhere. You’d spent many nights falling asleep to that gentle lullaby or hearing it as he held you close in the kitchen, neither of you caring that dinner was burning on the stove.

You rip off the blindfold, and there he is. Bradley. Bradley. Standing next to your Christmas tree, a bow tied around his chest. The Daggers surround him like magician’s assistants, all their hands raised in a sort of ta-da manner.

You leap off the couch and into his waiting arms. He smells like an aircraft carrier and shitty coffee, his clothes rough and government-issued, and his hair cropped a little too close to his head than you know he likes – but he’s yours. He’s yours in the way his embrace consumes you, blurring the line between you and him, erasing the months and miles of distance between the two of you. He’s yours in the way the beat of his heart drums in rhythm with your own. Yours in the way that you are his as well. He lifts you up so your feet dance in the air, pressing kisses to the top of your head.

He sets you down and crashes his lips into yours. He slips his tongue into your mouth unabashedly, and despite your audience, you let him. The kiss is long enough that you start to feel bad for everyone else, so you sheepishly pull away.

“Goddamn, Rooster,” Hangman says, “let the girl breathe.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves the comment away.

But you don’t want to breathe. Not if your other option is to kiss Bradley until you’re both oxygen starved. Because you’re starved for him, need to feed on his presence.

Then the realization sets in. Rooster is supposed to be deployed for another month. You wheel around to face Nat. “How the hell did you do this?”

She shrugs. “Loverboy emailed me last week, just after I got home from my deployment. Said he was coming home earlier than expected, and he wanted to surprise you.”

“Wait, so all of you knew?” You pointedly look at everyone, but nobody can quite keep eye contact with you.

Bradley wraps an arm around your waist. “They all did pretty good keeping it under wraps, huh?”

“I would hope so, given our clearance levels,” Jake says.

Everyone laughs, but you’re still reeling. You can’t believe Bradley is here. His calloused fingers rubbing the skin of your back, just under the hem of your shirt. His gentle laugh reverberating against your body, reminding you what wholeness feels like. His lips, slightly chapped (with none of your chapstick to steal on the carrier), murmuring into your hair. You can’t hear what he’s saying, but you know what he means nonetheless.

You’d imagined Bradley’s homecoming as a flurry of ripped clothes, bruising kisses, and mutual insatiable hunger, but this is better. All of your friends in the same room, sharing in this festive homecoming, looking like absolute dorks. Fanboy’s Santa hat sits askew on his head. Payback and Coyote are obviously drunk off their asses (they definitely pregamed the festivities, as Payback has been reduced to giggles and Coyote has actual tears streaming down his face). Jake has yet to realize the frosting in his hair, Bob the frosting on his face. And Natasha is a dork by association. You and Bradley too. But the overwhelming love in the room makes you want to sob happy tears.

Bradley happily indulges you all in judging the gingerbread houses. He gets down to eye level with each entry, runs his fingers along the roofs, occasionally snaps off a piece of candy and pops it in his mouth.

“Very good job, everyone.” He speaks to the group as if you’re all kindergartners, reveling in the building anticipation. There’s never a prize for Dagger competitions, but there doesn’t need to be. Bragging rights is all they need, no matter how menial the situation.

Bradley carefully reshuffles the houses in order from last to first place. Fanbody. Jake. Payback. Coyote. Nat. He purposefully shields first and second place. Only you and Bob are left – maybe the least competitive people in the room – and still, tension is thick in the air.

“And the winner…” Bradley’s voice booms like an old-fashioned gameshow host, “...is…”

He finally slides to the side to reveal your house sitting in first place.

Bob sticks his hand up for a high five. Your hands collide with a solid thunk.

“Not fair,” Fanboy protests. “Rooster’s obviously biased.”

“Come on, he didn’t know whose house was whose,” Phoenix says. “Besides, you weren’t even in the top five, and Payback had a hole in his roof.”

“It’s ok, Nat,” you voice oozes with fake sympathy. “I’d be upset too if I spent so much time on a shit gingerbread house.”

Fanboy’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh you want to play that game?”

He lunges around the table, and you immediately grab Bradley to use as a human shield.

“Lots of talk from someone who’s gonna hide behind her boyfriend,” he says teasingly.

“I’m not hiding.” You tighten your grip on Bradley’s waist, his hands covering yours. “You can get to me, you’re just gonna have to get through him first.”

Bradley puffs out his chest. “Nobody disparages the gingerbread contest queen. She earned her title by being the best.”

Later, because he can’t keep a secret from you (the only thing that saved the Secret Santa surprise was only being able to communicate through email), Bradley confesses that he knew which house was yours the moment he saw it. But still, that one little detail doesn’t negate the fact that you are the gingerbread contest queen.

And Bradley defends your honor well as you maneuver him from behind to keep a distance between yourself and Fanboy. Eventually, Bob steps in to broker a peace deal to end the conflict. Somehow, you are roped in for bringing more spritzes to Fanboy’s pizza night, but he can no longer dispute the fact that you have the best gingerbread house. A win is a win, and your gloating privileges remain.

Later, when everyone is winding down and glancing at their coats hanging by the door, Bradley pulls you into the kitchen.

“Honey, I think our guests are about to leave.” You try to move back toward the living room, but Bradley keeps hold of your hand. “Please, let’s not be rude.”

He shakes his head. “They’ll understand. They know. They know exactly what it's like.”

You relent because he’s right. Even you don’t know what it’s like. Loneliness has been a long lingering companion of yours, but you suffer her presence at home surrounded by close comforts and your parents a short drive away. For Bradley, for Nat, for Jake, for Bob and all the rest, it’s different. It’s their job. They suffer loneliness with mostly long shifts and shitty food for company.

So you let Bradley chase out his – and your – loneliness in the kitchen. As he pulls you ever closer, his palms flattening you against him, you wonder how you ever survived apart when it was so clear that your souls were really just one.

You break away panting. God knows how long you were indulging, but you just about jump out of your skin when you realize Phoenix is in the kitchen right behind you, pouring herself a glass of champagne.

Your cheeks warm. “Nat!”

“Sorry, didn’t bother me, so I didn’t want to bother you.” She shrugs. “Want a glass?”

You decline, and you and Bradley shuffle out of the kitchen like teenagers caught in the act. Nearly everyone is shrugging their coats on, chatting about the night, when they catch sight of the two of you.

“Now, just where in the hell did y’all run off to?” Jake prods.

You can’t even look at them.

“Just the kitchen,” Rooster says, locking his hand in yours. “Needed to make sure the champagne was still flowing.”

Everyone shares the same knowing look that makes you want to shove them all out the door. Instead, you and Bradley post up at the door like perfect hosts and thank everyone for coming as they slip into the surprisingly chilly night. Then, only you, Bradley, and Phoenix are left.

While everyone was saying their goodbyes, she was sipping her champagne and quietly wiping sugar, gingerbread crumbs, and crusted frosting off the dining table.

“You bitch,” you say as you swoop in to help her clean up. “How come you didn’t tell me as soon as you found out?”

She laughs and takes another sip of wine. “Why don’t you ask Rooster?”

You raise your eyebrows at him. He sheepishly grins.

“In my defense,” he says, “it was a really good surprise.”

“I can’t believe you two.” You laugh. “But thank you for the surprise. It was wonderful.”

You try to direct your gratitude to them both, but something in Rooster’s expression snags your gaze and won’t let go. There’s still an unsatiated hunger heavy in his eyes.

Nat sets down her now empty glass. “Alright, lovebirds, I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”

She gathers her things, and you walk her to the door.

“Thank you.” You give her a hug. Neither of you are super touchy, but your gratitude for her tonight is almost endless. “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it.” She squeezes you tight before letting go. “Goodnight, Rooster!”

“Goodnight!” He calls from somewhere deep in the house.

“Sounds like he’s waiting for you,” she winks. “See you soon.”

“Get home safe!”

And with that, it’s just the two of you. You expect Bradley to pounce the second the door closes, but he doesn’t appear as you linger by the doorway. Odd. You check the kitchen, living room, and dining room. All empty.

“Bradley?” You call.

“Right here.”

His response floats from down the hallway, from your bedroom.

And sure enough, there he stands in the doorway. Right under the mistletoe you hung up earlier in the week, the biggest grin on your face when you pictured his homecoming some time after New Years, all the Christmas decorations gone except the lonely mistletoe, waiting patiently for his arrival. But now, you can put the mistletoe to good use while Christmas is still bright on the horizon. The warmth of the season bleeds into the warmth of your kiss. Christmas will come as surely as it would have if Bradley was on deployment, but now you welcome it. You want lazy days sipping eggnog and baking cookies. You want late, festive nights at the Hard Deck with the Daggers, getting into pool competitions with Bradley as your loyal teammate despite how disastrous you are at pool, assured in his easy we-lose-together attitude. You want a Christmas morning with presents that don’t matter because the best gift you could ask for has already appeared right by your tree tonight, wrapped in a bow.

“Don’t leave me ever again,” you whisper against his chest.

“I won’t,” he says, “I won’t.”

You both know it’s not something you can ask of him, not a promise he can keep. It’s not fair to either of you to pretend like this will be his last homecoming, the last time you both are starved of each other for months. But right now, it feels good to pretend.

You can’t think long about his future deployments, however. Your worries melt away as Bradley makes good on his promise to give you the best mistletoe kiss the world’s ever seen.

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun maverick fanfiction #rooster fluff #bradley bradshaw fluff

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her-satanic-wiles · 8 months

Text

October 9th

Glory Hole, Papa Emeritus I x GN!Reader

Masterlist

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Glory holes; sex work; gn!Reader (but reader has a vulva); major inspiration from those slavic glory hole porn videos (iykyk); free use; fingering; overstimulation; cunnilingus; pussy worship (because of course there is); body worship (because this is Primo we’re talking about, man will lavish you in praise unprovoked); squirting; multiple orgasms; unprotected sex; piv sex; spanking; I may have accidentally made this reader plus size so if you are, great, if not, also great… ;

Taglist: @sodoswitchimage @enchantedbunny @bitchywitchygardener @thew0man @sodomiser @the-did-i-ask @copias-sewer-rat @gehrmansbignaturals

🔞 MDNI 🔞

There were times in one’s life where partaking in sins of the flesh wasn’t quite as romantic as one always wanted. The church, of course, always promoted the use of sexual rituals when it came to invoking the Dark One, as well as carnal lust being one of the most important fundamentals of their beliefs. However, sometimes sex was a bare necessity. Banging one out was akin to taking your car to the mechanic to get the oil changed, or cleaning your house and resetting it every season.

Primo, being the old man he was now, didn’t often find himself partaking in rituals anymore. Didn’t feel like he wanted to play cat and mouse with a pretty young sister - or old sister, he wasn’t picky. The idea of wooing a goddess every time exhausted his old brain, thus when nature did call on him, as rare as it was, he would go down to the basement levels where strings of Siblings also needed some attention and couldn’t be bothered with chasing down someone they deemed attractive. Where faces could remain hidden and the thrill of anonymity heightened the pleasurable experiences.

The Ministry’s glory hole.

Now, it seems ridiculous and kind of culty that a religious sect would own a plethora of custom built glory holes, I completely understand. But it just seemed fitting to have one when so many people live in a small space, and a large portion of these people are insanely horny introverts.

So, Primo walked into the corridor that lead to private rooms, chose the orifice he wanted to use and entered the room. After knocking, of course, he wasn’t a monster. The Sibling who was waiting for him had been propped up on a cardboard structure, the perfect height for the average penis-wielder. They were positioned on their stomach, allowing whoever came in two holes to easily play with.

Primo grabbed the camping chair that had been folded neatly in the corner of the room and placed it in front of the hole. His head was at the perfect height to play with the Sibling with his hands and mouth, which is something he intended to do first. Primo, like all of the Papas after him, was a very attentive lover - gracious, even with people he was to spend only twenty minutes with. He had no idea how long they’d been there, but he could see by their bare and swollen folds (and even a droplet of cum on the floor) that they had been used before him. Therefore, he wet two of his own fingers and delicately placing them inside them, tentatively, so as not to hurt their already sensitive pussy. They hissed at the feeling, the overstimulation catching up to them, but the moan that followed afterwards told Primo that they were still ready and happy to go. The light above their hole was green, so he knew the other person was consenting to this.

Green light - good to go.

Yellow light - stop what you’re doing and switch it up.

Red light - stop completely.

Everyone within the booths had buttons to press to express their consent as well as alarms just in case someone overstayed their welcome. Big and burly Ministry officers would come charging in and forcibly remove the other person if needs be. Safety was always the most important thing.

When Primo pulled his fingers out, the only thing coating them was the Sibling’s juices, meaning whoever had used them before had cleaned up after themselves. Primo grunted in appreciation. He didn’t mind eating cum out of a pussy, provided it was his own. With the confirmation he needed, Primo nuzzled into the Sibling’s folds, and allowed his tongue to flick over the sensitive bud softly, tentatively making sure this was okay before proceeding to get more intense. The light remained green.

So, Primo placed his hands on the Sibling’s deliciously plump ass and spread them apart, giving him complete and unobstructed access to his favourite place of worship. His tongue darted erratically over the Sibling’s clit, alternating between licking and sucking. He knew this was a hit with the Sibling, given that their hips were rocking back and forth, working Primo’s nose deeper into their wetness. They tried not to give away their identity with their voice, but their moans and little gasps of “yes!” and “more!” wasn’t helping them. Thankfully, Primo didn’t recognise their voice, but his cock was certainly standing to attention and appreciative of the noises it was hearing.

Pulling away temporarily, Primo inserted two of the same fingers into the Sibling’s slick hole and curved downward, roughly fingering them as he sucked on their clit. He had been around long enough to know exactly what to do and how to please whatever partner he was with, and the Sibling’s gasps of affirmation was enough for him to know that they were seriously enjoying him. It wasn’t long before his fingers felt the familiar tightness, and his face became drenched in the Sibling’s cum, their squirt trickling out of them and flooding the shelf they were lay on. Papa only stopped when he saw the light turn yellow.

He stood and removed the chair, placing it back to where he got it from, before undressing himself. He was a traditional man, preferring to be completely nude under his robes, and so he stood as naked as the Sibling, cock standing freely and begging to sink into the sopping cunt in front of him. In reassurance, and perhaps a gentle warning, Primo placed one of his hands on the Sibling’s ass and stroked it gently. He ran his cock through their folds once, twice, three times before easing himself in gently. The Sibling’s gasp was music to his ears, and it took everything in him not to thrust forward and take his own pleasure. But he held on to the very last bit of sanity he had for the sake of this poor Sibling’s overworked hole. Even with his cock working its way inside the Sibling, he was still giving them reassuring touches and being as gentle as possible. But their pussy was warm, and wet, and fluttering with every movement. He hadn’t felt this good in years.

Papa didn’t care who knew he was in there, he just wanted to make sure the Sibling was comfortable. “Flash your light green when you’re ready for me to move.” He requested.

After a few seconds the light flashed, and Primo began his assault.

The thrusts were tentative and shallow at first, but soon enough he let his wants take over him. His pace quickened and his hands gripped tightly onto the Sibling’s hips to ground and allow himself to hit the right spots more precisely. He would alternate between quick, short thrusts to long, powerful hits where he’d slam himself back in and reach the very back of their hole. He needed this. He didn’t realise just how horny he’d been until he sank deep into the Sibling. He’d almost forgotten how good a tight, wet cunt felt wrapped around his achingly hard cock. Sathanas - if He was good, He would allow Primo more reminders of his youth so he could come back down and play with as many Siblings as he could get his hands on. But he almost wanted to keep this Sibling forever. He wanted to find out who they were. He wanted to bring them up to his chambers and watch their voluptuous ass bounce on his cock as he lay on the bed like a King.

He watched with intent as their ass jiggled at the recoil, every time his hips rammed against it and bounced with the force. He bit his lip and let out a groan, resisting the urge to spank. He didn’t want to do anything the Sibling was uncomfortable with. “C-can I spank you? Fl-flash if yes.”

Another flash, this one even faster than before. Primo chuckled. His hand came down with a slap over and over again, the intensity getting bigger and bigger until their right cheek was red and raw with the impact. Every time he hit them, they squeaked like a little mouse. Between each hit was a reassuring rub, followed by an even more intense one. Sometimes, he would couple the slap with the timing of his cock hitting their cervix. This would earn him an unintentional scream.

When Primo had tired of the spanking, he moved his hand under their bodies and began working his middle finger at the Sibling’s clit. They had already cum once by Primo’s mouth, and it felt great when their cunt constricted his fingers, but he was desperate to feel it around his cock. With the amount they were worked up, he didn’t believe it would be long before they came. And sure enough, the familiar tightness began to appear and Primo felt their walls closing in again. His own throat released a growl as the Sibling’s orgasm ripped one of his own and his balls emptied inside them. They stayed connected for a moment, Primo being too tired to move but also not wanting it to end. But eventually, he pulled out, hissing at the loss of warmth.

His eyes were transfixed on the Sibling’s pussy, watching his cum ooze out of them like melted ice cream down a cone. His finger ran through the mess and gathered it before licking it off. He couldn’t help himself. Once more he unfolded the chair from the corner and set to work abusing their cunt in the sweetest of ways.

The Sibling, who was now almost entirely fuck-drunk and brain dead from orgasms, was babbling incoherently to themselves on the other side of the wall. Their hips were bucking at the feeling of Primo’s tongue eating his own cum out of their cunt and they could hardly contain themselves. Their hand moved backwards, reaching for Primo’s bald head and pushing him further into their cunt as though they were desperate for another orgasm. “Papa!” They cried. “L-like that! Right th-ere. Oh fuck! Please don’t stop! Don’t stop!” And it didn’t take much more than a nudge to the clit to have them tipping over again and cumming for the third time from Primo’s body alone. They were completely breathless by the time Primo pulled away, and in their somewhat delusional state, they clumsily climbed out of the hole and exposed their entirely naked body and face to their Papa.

“Hey, hey!” Primo said, concern in his voice as he watched the exhausted Sibling sway. He gently moved them to the seat and had them sit on it. “Are you okay, little one?”

They nodded. “I wanted to see you.”

Primo chuckled fondly. “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

He wrapped his own robes around the Sibling, who was now shaking, and stood behind them giving them an awkward back hug, trying to bring warmth back to their adrenaline-filled body. “What’s your name?”

“I’m ___.” They answered. “C-can I see you again, Papa? Please?”

It had been a long time since a person had attached themselves to him because of his bedroom prowess. “Only for coffee, little ___. Your head is not clear enough for other decisions.”

They nodded. Primo found themselves looking at them in adoration - they were so unbelievably cute. If nothing else, Papa may have just made himself a new friend.

Previous Day ⛧ Next Day

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twistedbloodstain · 1 year

Text

vincent de gramont x assistant!reader: i made you my temple, my mural, my sky now i'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life. | the marquis wants more of what meets the eye.

plot: the one where the marquis has had enough of just a glimpse.

warning: unrequited?,vincent is down bad af, boss-assistant relationship

masterlist

your cries of pain are so soft but so loud in his ears. stupid, stupid girl. what have you done? it frightens him to see you so…helpless. he tries to soothe you from it but to no avail, he can feel the warm thick blood from your torso dripping on his trousers.

but what petrifies him to the bone was your silence. the moment you flutter your eyes shut and the whimpers of pain from your lips dwindle down makes his blood run cold.

what happened next was a blur for him but all he can remember was holding your hand as thomas drove through the thick of the city to bring you to safety. why had you done that? he clasps your hand even tighter when he can feel you take a sharp breath every now and then. it makes him hope. it makes him pray to any god out there to let you live. please…not her..not her. not when she did that for me. not when she just took a bullet for me, it cannot be. he doesn’t know why, but he does. he’ll beg on his knees to every god out there if it meant seeing you safe and alive.

when you're taken from his arms and placed on a stretcher, he can only stand in shock. it still doesn’t make sense to him, were you…not what he thought you were? no, no she was just in the way of it. she probably cursed me to death when she got shot. but she hadn’t said anything, and the way she looked at me. god it was full of fear and dread, she had gripped on him when he’d taken her to his arms, and it was full of the fight left inside her. the way she latched her hand on his wrist felt like the way you would grip a rosary for a prayer to god, he wonders to himself.

the marquis stands still in front of the door. behind the door, are skillful medical professionals working to keep you alive but it doesn’t feel enough. he feels fear pool into his stomach. what if she doesn’t recover? what if she doesn’t live through the night? what if she dies? what would he do?

his mouth sews shut and his throat goes dry. she’ll live. she has to, the marquis reassures himself. he cannot bear the thought of you gone, of you dead on a medical table all because of him.

the gods had been gracious. why? because right now, he’s sitting beside the bedside table on which he has his preferred drink; a pitcher of lemon water. other than that there’s the matter of you.

there you are in the least of your glory. tucked beneath the silk sheets in one of the guest rooms of his estate and your head laid on the large wooly pillows. the doctor managed to stabilize the wound on your torso.

“thankfully, the bullet hadn’t hit any vital organs, the main concern we focused on was the excessive bleeding from it.” the doctor explains to him. there are more he says to him, but he never hears the end of it. all he could focus on was you. your eyes still shut but your breathing was steady, he could hear the beeping of the vitals sign monitor as he gazed at you.

you looked so…innocent. as if you weren’t recovering from an injury but merely sleeping. your guard was down and you seemed so calm. something he never witnessed while you worked for him, not that he’s ungrateful for it but you always seemed rigid and always expected something bad to be thrown on your face all the time, to see you so relaxed and serene felt like a gift.

it felt like a privilege from the gods. oh they truly had been gracious enough to give this sight to him.

he wondered if he would see more of this once you woke up. he hopes he does, your sweet angelic face that was always nervous and alert was more delightful to see when you were peaceful. he wonders what your smile would be like, how the corner of your lips would curve when you were amused from something he said, you’d often hid it from him trying to remain professional when a you heard a jape from someone.

he wonders what your sweet laugh would sound like. that would be lovely to hear. how it could sound like music to his ears when it came from you, how precious it would be just to hear it once. he would be honored if you were ever to bestow that gift to him. lastly, he wonders how to make you happy. how to make you pleased whenever you see him, not that composed structure you give him when you greet him in the morning but something genuine. he wants to tear down the walls you’ve built in front of him so he can see you. what you’re truly like.

now, you’ve shown a glimpse of it to him. he wants more, he prays that when you wake up, you won't shut him out again. when you wake up don’t shove him out of what you’re like. when you wake up don’t hide what you feel for him, not from him, don’t hide it from him. don’t wake him up just to realize it was all a dream. a fantasy he thought that came to its reality. you’re many things but cruelty is not one of them. so don’t break him, for god’s sake don’t.

“how long until she awakens?” he interrupts the doctor in the middle of his talk, surprisingly still going on.

“i’d give it two to three weeks, sir. if her vitals remain stable.” the doctor answers dutifully,

he hums before replying, “you can go.”

the doctor nods and bows his head a little then obediently obeys his command. right now, it’s just you, him and that monitor.

he stares at your face in uncertainty, two weeks. before it was something that seemed short enough for him but right now it felt like a century. he wanted to speak to you, to talk to you. he had so many questions for you, why you’d taken a bullet from him. if you wanted to resign from your job. why you made him feel like this.

like a lovesick fool.

as if that wasn’t painful enough, the answers he wanted to hear cannot be said. it felt like you told him you loved him then fled, although unintentionally it’s not like you intentionally got yourself shot to avoid confrontation from him…did you?

he shakes that thought out of his mind, the truth can only be provided through you. who is unable to answer that for at least two weeks, it was itching him to know, to know what you’ve done to him. what magic or skill you’ve done to make him latch onto you like a bug.

most of all he wants to know where does that leave the both of you. he wishes you don’t flee from him, that you’ll take him for what he is and more. he doesn’t think he can handle the idea of you out of his reach. out of safety, the only comfort you can only seek in this world is from him.

albeit, ironic considering you’re passed out on a bed because of a bullet meant for him. but when you wake up, he’ll promise. he’ll swear to you, that nothing, nothing would ever get to you ever again. he would protect you with all his power and control over the country just to see you sheltered from harm. what good is his power if he can’t use it to protect you from his enemies? anyone that fucks with you, fucks with me mon amour. i promise. he promises to you and to himself.

he remembers a painting he saw in the louvre. the death of alcestis. a tale about how alcestis willingly dies in place of her husband, admetus. at first, he’d thought the pair, alcestis and admetus were a bunch of fools. why would you eagerly die for someone? if you truly cared for your wife why had you let her die in your place? that’s not love, it’s simply tragedy. not that he has much experience on that matter but he never understood it.

the evening he starts to understand,. alcestis dies for her husband because of love, because she cannot bear the pain of her love absent in this world. she cannot live without her lover. did you think the same when you took a bullet for him? did you think that no pain could compare if he were dead? although for admetus, he could not find a defense for him, ironically he is the admetus to your alcestis but he swears. he swears that will never be the case ever again.

he’ll bring you back from the dead if it meant he would die in your place.

the guilt surges into his guts, mixing with the pool of fear that rushed into his veins last night. he feels sorry, for his failure, for himself but most especially for you. he feels miserable that he’d failed you, that because of him you got hurt.

it’ll never happen again. i won’t let it happen again. he vows to himself. he has to, for your sake and his.

as he stands up to leave, he goes to your bed and gazes into your face once more. he lowers himself to your frame, setting himself on the edge of the bed. you make no sign of disturbance from his movement, still heavily asleep. he takes your hand and strokes the back of it, lovingly.

“i have to go mon amour, but i’ll be back. i’ll be here when you wake up, i’ll be the first person you’ll see the same way i was the last person you saw.” he whispers to your dozing face, he ponders if you could hear him. likely not, but it doesn’t hurt to wonder.

he leans forward and slowly presses a soft kiss to your temple. gentle and nothing harsh, meant to convey his care with how fragile you were right now. he lets his lips linger on the softness of your temple, relishing on the mellow texture of your skin. he wants to stay here, with you. just the two of you like it always was for the past two years, he should’ve urged you to come sit with him in the car on the way to meetings, should’ve spoken to you every chance he had and he should’ve confessed how he felt towards you. no point mourning time that has been spent, even if it meant years that were wasted.

when he pulls away from you it feels like a force urged him to stay and he hopes he could but he can’t. he has a lifetime for that now, and so do you. he lifts your hand to his lips then slowly kisses your wrist, also lingering so long but seems so short for the marquis.

he leisurely stands up, keeping his eyes on your face. he strides towards the door then takes one last glance before opening the door. i’ll be back and she’ll still be safe. i’ll only be gone for only a few hours, he murmurs to himself.

he opens the door and sees a pair of guards by your door, they stand straight and acknowledge him by nodding their head. he sees thomas walking up to him, likely bearing news.

“sir, we’ve carefully taken them. they’re chained up at the edge of the city, we go at your order.” thomas informs him diligently. the marquis simply nods his head, a gesture of affirmation. he turns his head to the pair guarding your room.

“make sure to call for me, the moment she wakes up and keep her here until i say otherwise. understood?” he sternly instructs with the cold tone they’ve known for years. the pair answer obediently with compliance.

the marquis leaves them then walks through the hall towards the exit of the manor with thomas trailing behind him, it was odd to no longer hear the clicking of your heels behind him but right now he had other concerns.

it was time to make the people who hurt you, pay for what they’ve done.

when the news reaches his ears, he’s astounded. almost three weeks after your operation, you were finally awake. it delights him, to finally know you were safe and awake. he immediately stands up from his chair and walks out of his office.

he was overjoyed with what he just heard, although he did everything in his power to not let it show on his face as he trudged through the halls of the manor. the dread and fear was gone, in its stead it was bliss and happiness, he felt lighthearted knowing that the threat of losing you from death was finally extinguished.

two weeks after the incident and you still haven’t woken from your slumber, it had angered him. so he had taken it out on the doctor responsible for your recovery, he had pierced his hand with a knife and his assistant nurse had to help him pry the knife from his hand, from what he heard. it can be said that it was an overreaction and ever since that occurrence everyone walked on eggshells around him.

now it was gone, he felt relieved to know that you’re awake but as he neared your room, he heard a door close, the sound echoing in the cavernous hall. soon after, he saw adeline, the senior housekeeper coming from the other direction he was headed. the housekeeper stopped on her feet and acknowledged him by lightly bowing her head. he wondered if adeline just visited your room, it was probable to happen considering she had been one of his spies during his “venture of getting to know you”. he shakes that thought, it wasn’t important but a mysterious feeling remained in his stomach.

when he saw thomas and another of this men guarding your door, he saw the doctor and nurse nearing your door. the doctor greeted him but he made no effort to do the same. the moment he enters through the door he sees you.

awake. alive. safe

he swears his heart could burst just by the sight of you.

he stays silent the entire exchange between you and the medics. he sat on another of the chairs, lounging and waiting for it to end so he way share a word with you. he notices the way you flinch while they rebandage your wound.

he wants to kill that entire family all over again, just for the way you flinch right now.

when the pair of medical professionals leave he gazes at you. it takes all his strength to keep his composure calm and professional when all he wants to do is take you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

he speaks the first word for the both of you, simple courtesies. how were you feeling and the situation of your injury, nothing important. you thank him for the measures he’s done for you to keep you alive. i’ve done more and i’ll do it all over again. he wants to say but doesn’t.

what makes his brain suddenly stop functioning for a moment was when you ask when you tell him you need to go home.

you are home. can’t you see? can’t you see?! he wants to tell you.

it was starting to happen. he was starting to lose you when he just had you. he walks towards the window and faces away from you, trying to remain composure.

“sir?” you call out to him.

i can’t let you leave. i cannot bear the thought of it, i felt like i was being torn apart alive knowing you almost died because of me. how much more knowing you’re alive but not within my reach? don’t be cruel, mon coeur. don’t do this.

“is there something wrong with what i said?” you innocently question to him.

“you cannot.” he finally spits out.

you’re shoving me away just like what i feared. but why? i’ve done good things and unspeakable things for you, you can’t simply abandon me like this. not when you’ve made me feel alive and loved.

“why? is there something wrong with me?” you worried ask him, “sir?” you add when he doesn’t reply to you.

“it’s not…safe.” he states to you, finally facing you. he stares at you, if it was a gift to watch you asleep, it was a pleasure to see you awake again.

“for…who? for you or for them?” you frown, trying to deduce everything he’s said to you.

“it’s not safe for you.” he finally clears it out, glad to have gotten rid of it.

your mouth falls open, “what? it’s you they were aiming for, not me. they wanted to kill you. it was you they wanted to shoot. you were the target. i honestly don’t think they’d go after the assistant to finish the job. right?” you begin to ramble.

tell me something i don’t know, my dear. i’m reminded of that every night i sleep and every breath i draw from this world. no need to rub that in, but i’ve made amends. you have nothing to worry about.

“yes, you’re right. they wouldn’t.” he disclosed to you, “i know that bullet was intended for me, the man was supposed to shoot me. god knows i know.” he whispers.

“and look what happened to you. what they..did to you.” he says as he slowly walks towards you. “you…you weren’t supposed to get hurt. i don’t think i can forgive myself for that.” he says softly as he looks back at you.

suddenly, everything finally sets into your head. he can see your eyes widen while he gazes into your face. the urge to hold you close and kiss you like a starved man to death was strong. especially, right now when you’ve realized the weight of his words.

he doesn’t need to say it out loud that he cares and loves you. when the words he said hinted at what he means to say and the actions he’s done spoke better than his words could ever say but he still tries. he knows that you already know but he wants to make sure.

“you’re right. it was meant for me, but you had it instead. you…you took a bullet for me. who does that for someone? how many people in the world can say that they’ve taken a bullet for me? one. there’s only one. and she’s sitting right in front of me.”

the heaviness on his shoulders feels lighter now, he’s finally said the words however merely a fragment of what he truly feels but he has his entire life to say all of them, he’s in no rush to say his love to her right now. he has his entire life to love her.

“believe it or not, mon amour. you’ve become more precious to me than anything this life has to offer, i want to keep you safe and right now the only way is to keep you here.” with him, he wants to keep you safe here with him, away from all the horror of his work, to stay only with him and to speak the words unspoken for years.

“for a while, until you regain your strength. do you understand, mon coeur?”

the marquis has gone fucking crazy.

first he expressed a confession of love to you, second he was watching you the entire time you were asleep and lastly, he won’t let you leave the estate.

it had almost been an hour ever since your conversation with him after you woke up. soon after, thomas knocked the door and peeped his head in, informing the marquis about a visitor in the drawing room. which you were eternally grateful for because you were speechless with everything your boss just told you.

you were still sat on the same chair ever since, you deduced you’ve been in a trance for about two hours and a half, you felt like your legs would give out of shock if you tried to stand up. you found it hard to process everything.

did the marquis feel something for you? certainly. you could tell his intentions from his words and his tone. oh god, the words were enough to catch you off guard but the way he said it, slowly chokes you alive from how stunned you are.

but it feels out of nowhere. in the two years you’ve worked for him, he has been nothing but cold and crass with you like any other interactions between a boss and assistant so this feels rather confusing rather than touching even with the fragility and regret oozing through his tone.

even more reason to go home. you need space, from your injury, from that night and in addition from him.

you need to process your feelings properly without the marquis hovering around you, especially when he made it clear that you weren’t going anywhere. but how in the world were you going to get out of the room? everyone in this estate would immediately inform the marquis and drag you back to the room the moment they see you outside. although you could make an excuse to see someone then bolt through the manor the moment you’re slightly a few paces ahead of them.

you were at a complete disadvantage though, the guards could easily overpower you with their strength and just like you they’re familiar with the nooks and crannies of the sizable manor. however, if you were lucky and stealthy enough, you could attempt to temporarily hide from some rooms until you manage your way to the back door exit without getting caught.

you trudge towards the door, unsure with the plan in your head but too exhausted to make a fool proof one. you slowly push the door with all your strength, you slowly step out and the guard to your right immediately spots you. that’s expected.

“ma’am? you shouldn’t be up and walking around, the marquis specifically instructed that you stayed in your room.” the guard reprimands to you.

“i need to get to the doctor right away. i need the prescription for these painkillers he gave me. you know, in case i need more,” you lie to him.

“we can call for him, so he may come back. easier that way, no hassle for you.”

“i can’t wait for him, it’s urgent. please, i really need this.” you plead to him.

The guard feigns a look of hesitation from your reply. you hold your breath, praying he falls for your folly. he lets out a sigh then answers to you.

“alright, ma’am. but I’ll have to accompany you.”

“thank you.”

the both of you began to walk towards the medic’s office, thankfully the back door was close to the office. silence ensues the walk towards the destination, as you walk you plot your escape. as soon as you make a left, you bolt and run. the pathway to the medic’s was a bit of a maze, hopefully it would confuse the guard and either make the wrong turns or slow down from catching up on you.

several minutes and paces pass by and you finally see the opening to your escape. as soon you made the turn, you ran. a grunt of shock exits the guard’s mouth before scurrying to go after you. then you encounter the turns required for your escape. you move around hastily and once you look back you see that the guard was no longer on your tail. but you couldn’t afford to slow down, sooner or later he might catch up to you or worse another guard captures you.

you could hear bouts of masculine shouts throughout the manor as it bounced off the walls. it filled your stomach with dread and veins pumped full of adrenaline as your heart beat with trepidation. anxious that perhaps the marquis was informed of your ongoing escape.

finally you see the lavish curtain adorned with elegant designs, you shove the curtain aside and search for the door with your hands. for a second, you thought you’d arrived at the wrong place until a soft click entered your ears and your insides warm from happiness. the door was just as heavy as the others and with all your strength you pushed it open half way. you turn to properly fix the curtain making sure no trace of your escape was visible then shut the door as it creaked loudly, cementing the success of your breakout.

you burst open through your door, quickly shutting and locking it. adrenaline and paranoia filled your senses, afraid that you’d been followed to your home and that soon someone was banging on your door until it fell down. you press your back against the door and sink to the floor and sigh in relief.

you take a deep breath and slowly close your eyes for a while, relishing in the comfort of your apartment. you look around glad to see the familiar sight of your home and the sudden purring of your cat. you glance as you see him making his way towards you, a small smile curves your mouth.

ah..one of the burdens are coming to comfort me.

as he nears, you scoop him into your arms and nestle him on your chest. you wish it could stay like this for a while, that you weren’t actively avoiding your slightly deranged boss (that is in love with you?) but merely coming home from a long day to seek comfort from your cat. the ball of fur purrs and vibrations are felt through his body.

you pull away from your cat and get on your feet, making your way to your room for a well earned rest from doing a five mile marathon trying not to get caught. the adrenaline and paranoia was finally long gone.

you needed this. you need to hide out for a while before you face the awkward and confusing truth of reality. the comforting sensation home has given you brought you to sanity. you need to leave.

the guards open the door for him as per usual. although, he can sense fear radiating from them, and due to the intensity of the previous occurrence they were walking eggshells around him again. he enters the room, your room specifically. a few hours ago, the both of you were here and now you were gone, again.

vincent was annoyed. the very people he instructed to keep you in this room failed to obey the task but also lost you as you ran from your escort. not only did you leave this room but you also escaped the estate. how in the world did that happen?

he had no idea you’d be this slippery even with the strict bodyguards instructed to protect and detain keep you in the room. he expected verbal resistance not bloody remus john lupin. isn’t this so sweet? you. the gift that keeps giving.

he doesn’t let his men continue the search, after all there was only one place you could’ve been. in that apartment you live in for the past years, he knows where it is and what floor you are due to the investigation he’d imposed upon you a few years ago. so no worries, he only has his men posted around the structure to make sure you don’t leave. it’s much more strict and controlled than before, this time if they saw you exit the building they’d immediately grab you and bring you back to the estate. so win-win.

although, he prefers to have you here right now, he tries to understand that you’re probably overwhelmed with the surge of events that happened ever since that night. so he lets it pass. as much it insults his pride but he’s not in a hurry to have you stay with him for the rest of your days now that you’re awake. you’ve kept all what you felt from hidden because of his power,his intimidation and his pride. he doesn’t want to lose you again because of it. so he lets it happen, a few hours without you was a price worth paying for a lifetime loving you.

after all love does odd things to people that even the normal human cannot comprehend, love has its mysterious ways and that he can understand for you, even if it wasn’t all going according to what he wanted, he can swallow that down for you. you’ll be all worth it.

he can imagine waking up next to you in the early mornings, grazing your soft palm then slowly kissing your pulse while you sat next to him during dinner and the sweet kisses the both of you would share in the privacy of his room. he can fantasize the sweet dreams and the sinful acts he can do to you when you are finally his.

he inhales the air inside the room, the scent of you evident in the room, like a bloody handprint in a crime scene, attempting to calm himself with the remnants of your presence.

oh..he really misses you.

why do you have to be so stubborn? why do you feel the need to resist him and his love? he’s simply doing this for your best, for your safety. why can’t you just let him do this for you?

this moment should be joyous and exciting between the two of you, because you’ve both found a chance at love. how often does that happen? especially in a workplace, how often does someone find the love of their life within close proximity with them? little to none. he wants to beg you to stay, to journey through the uncharted territory together. don’t leave him, don’t.

he’s finally realized that he loves you, let him show it. let that love melt all that fear you hold in your heart. because it’s all right now, he’s here, let him love you, let him protect you, let him yearn for you.

something vibrates in his pocket, it snaps him out of his trance. a notification beeps through his phone and he leisurely opens it knowing it’s probably a reminder for a meeting. he’s found it hard to arrive at his events on time even with a temporary assistant assigned to him. the latest one wasn’t as sharp and attentive as you, which he found irritating. he really misses you.

the message that laid before his eyes almost made his heart drop.

EMAIL 8:35 PM

SUBJECT: RESIGNATION LETTER

author’s note: this was long…plus i recycled some dialogue bc school’s kicking me in the ass and i couldn’t form coherent stuff for that. i will compensate for that…with another fic…

taglist: @dcgoddess @1mawh0re @davvydobrik @ilunapb @hesvoid3434 @heartrot666

part one part two part three part five

#bill skarsgard imagine #vincent de gramont #vincent de gramont x reader #marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont x reader #bill skarsgard #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgard gif #bill skarsgard fanfiction #bill skarsgard icons #john wick #oneshot #john wick four #john wick fic #keanu reeves #yandere #obsessive #yandere x reader #yearning

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hopepetal · 3 months

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@gremnda since you wanted to see the larger wip from my boatem apocalypse fic!!

The light in the sky pulses green, neon against the black night. Radiance oozes from it, taints the air, makes the sky look sickly. Even the stars shy away from it, repulsed by the unnatural force that occupies their home.

Pearl can't bring herself to look away, mesmerized by its awfulness. She finds herself falling forward and stumbling into a step, her heart drumming a frantic rhythm in her chest. Every instinct in her body tells her to run, to hide, to look away, but Pearl discovers with rapidly fading horror that she doesn't want to.

The light is actually quite beautiful, she has to admit. Stepping through the gathered crowd, Pearl hears herself murmuring apologies as she pushes forward. She can't be bothered to check if others are doing the same thing– looking at the crowd would mean taking her eyes off of the Light.

There's someone beside her, someone important. He doesn't look at the Light, unlike her. A shame, really. The Light is so beautiful. She can't imagine not wanting to look at it, not wanting to stare into the everlasting glow.

She doesn't hear anything anymore, because everything is blocked out by the Light's faint humming. It reminds her of the faint whir of machinery, but it is somehow more. It is the sound of many voices humming at once, and yet impossibly inhuman. She takes another step forward.

He is beside her again, shouting what might've been her name. She hums in displeasure, joining the Light's song, still keeping her eyes glued to the angelic radiance. Such a shame indeed, that he doesn't wish to bathe in the Light's glory. The girl she once was would be sad when they'd have to get rid of him.

Wait.

Pearl blinks, then lets out the breath she didn't know she was holding. The tension flees from her body as she gasps in air, her senses crashing back into her as she is finally able to tear her gaze from the light.

Grian is standing in front of her, grabbing her by the shoulders. His dark eyes look up into hers, concern and fear brewing a storm of emotions on his face. “Pearl?” he asks, then cracks a smile when her eyes meet his. “Hey, there.”

Pearl blinks again and smiles back. “Hey, mate. Guess I got a little carried away, huh?”

Grian snorts, rolling his eyes. “A little? Goodness, Pearl. Next time I'm just going to punch you.”

Pearl gasps in mock horror, clutching her hands to her chest. “You would never.”

Their conversation is interrupted by screams from the crowd around them, and they know enough by now to grab each other's hand and start running.

The light explodes, and the two throw themselves around the corner, pressing back against the sturdily built wall that only shakes slightly from the force. As soon as the wave of light passes them, they're immediately running again, though not from the light.

This time, they run from the monsters the light created. —— “That's on you, for going into such a heavily populated area,” Impulse scolds Pearl and Grian, with no real bite behind his words. He's just relieved they made it back– everyone is. “I told you both. I really did try to warn you!”

Grian finishes wrapping his wound, looking up with a smile. “We're adults, Impulse. We can make our own decisions.”

Impulse laughs, shaking his head. “I'm not saying you can't, man! I'm just saying they're stupid decisions!”

“Says the man who wants to go to the city,” Pearl shoots back in a teasing tone, pulling her hair out of its braid.

Impulse splutters, trying to find words. “That's hardly the same thing! We need supplies! Mumbo needs stuff to fix communications in the bunker!”

The mustachioed man looks up from where he's playing cards with Scar in the corner, eyes wide. “Oh, don't blame this on me, goodness gracious!”

Scar laughs, setting his cards down and leaning back. “Yeah, I'm pretty sure Impulse is just cooped up in here. He needs to spread his pretty little wings and fly!” He makes a grand sweeping gesture with his hands, smiling widely.

Impulse buries his head in his hands. “You're all awful. Out of everyone, I just had to spend the apocalypse with you four.”

Pearl leans on Impulse's shoulder, grinning. “Love you too, Impulse.”

#my writing #boatem

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 4 months

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AN ANGEL READING ; PICK A PILE. GO SLOW!

PILE 1 ~ 'LOOK BEYOND'

If you picked this pile, you have to go with source on this one. Your path isn't linear, and neither are you. Protection is granted whichever path you choose to walk. Gifts will start to show itself more soon for people who picked this one. These gifts could be known but you've kept them hidden, or they are starting to grow and you can feel and see them much better. Boldness is a theme for this group because it helps you shine bright like a light bulb, you'll stick out like a green thumb and the soul mates and partnerships connected to your life path/ hearts desires will become a growing opportunity. Work on this, and by the spring/summer months you'll see a noticeable difference in your income and your way of life as a whole.

Themes: Bunnies, River banks, Walks at the park, Cool outfits, Divine ephiphanies.

Numbers: 333, 211, 316, 411, 414, 666, 999

PILE 2 - PAST LIFE MEETING

If you picked this pile, you'll be having a soul mate connection of a life time. This isn't no ordinary love, this person has known you from many different worlds besides this one. It's an opening of the heart for this group. It's asking you to take a leap of faith as there is a sense of newness coming around the corner with this partner. Enjoy the experience with bonding with a soul just as deep as you. There is nothing to be ashamed of or afraid of. Bliss is an ethereal feeling that makes the high feel worthwhile. This is a strong partnership ready to overgo intense feelings of the path they've chosen in order to grow on a deeper soul level.

Themes : Lovers, Channeler, Divine Timing, Peace of Mind, Glory, Special Occasions, Romantic

Numbers: 444, 212, 222, 333, 555, 999

PILE 3 - EMPTY CLIPS

Going outside and getting some fresh air. Bonding with nature and the tides. Exploring the open zones in your area. There's so much to see if you look around. Traveler. Take that train or that bus, where will you go next? Seek for more. The journey is in the pineal gland (third eye), you have to want this. You have to focus and just go for it. Be bold and be righteous. In times of traveling, you will have protection around your aura. Mystical experiences could be noted during this time as the veil is insightly thin right now.

Taking a trip can help cut off old ends and dying partnerships will seize to exist in the next few months. You have to go within and just go with the flow my love. Take the chance, it'll be worth it in the end.

Themes : Adventure, Travel, Oceans, Beaches, 'Narley dude', Making a move, Going slow, Captivating energy.

Numbers: 616, 555, 777, 888, 909

PILE 4 - 'UNWANTED ENERGY, STAYING STILL

If you picked this pile, it is necessary for you to lay low for a while. Your vibration is a little more sensitive than usual. If you picked this group you could possibly be an empath. Also take note that you should consider doing any energy cleanses as needed for your energy to get a boost. Just stay out of drama, gossip and focus on journaling any emotions that make you feel stagnant, sad, depressed, angry, etc. Working on your shadow and inner needs will be substantial for your growth in the later years. So being more secretive on this type of work will be the best choice. You could be a light for other people and could be called into the spotlight for healing. Sensual energy is in your aura waiting to be fully tapped in. You are gracious, please remember. Venus energy is surrounding your being. Look at the stars, and look back at yourself. Remember you are your worst enemy at times, but you can always be better than today.

Themes: 'Shhh, I heard she's got problems', gossip, hear say, crying out loud, making space for yourself and for others, being insane.'

Numbers: 808, 222, 111, 777, 711, 303, 313

#pick a pile #pick a character #angel reading #channeler #intuitive #tarot reading #oracle #oracles #witch #mystic

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queerprayers · 8 months

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update <3

I've been procrastinating this (as if that could make it all less real), but so many people have sent prayers and well wishes that I wouldn't feel right not letting you know how grateful I am for your words and also letting you know this: My beloved grandfather died last week.

I honor the faithful service he gave to countless churches and communities, the children he helped raise, the grandchildren he sang to, the children he baptized, the couples (including my parents) he married, the people he buried, the music and faith that never left him even when so much of him did.

I will pass on the last thing he ever said to me, in July, after a busy and joyful weekend celebrating his fiftieth wedding anniversary, as he got in bed for his nap, taking seconds in between words to think: "It's not all hard. Not all the time." This is so hard. But it's also part of loving someone: promising to mourn them when the time comes. Promising to keep going. Love is hard, but it's not all hard. Not all the time.

His funeral will be Catholic, but he used to be a Lutheran, and he presided over many funerals from the worship book I still use, so here are some words I've been saying from there:

O God of grace and glory, we remember before you today our brother. We thank you for giving him to us to know and to love as a companion in our pilgrimage on earth. In your boundless compassion, console us who mourn. Give us your aid, so we may see in death the gate to eternal life, that we may continue our course on earth in confidence until, by your call, we are reunited with those who have gone before us; through your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord.

Into your hands, O merciful Savior, we commend your servant. Acknowledge, we humbly beseech you, a sheep of your own fold, a lamb of your own flock, a sinner of your own redeeming. Receive him into the arms of your mercy, into the blessed rest of everlasting peace, and into the glorious company of the saints in light.

The generations rise and pass away before you. You are the strength of those who labor; you are the rest of the blessed dead. We rejoice in the company of your saints. We remember all who have lived in faith, all who have peacefully died, and especially those most dear to us who rest in you. Give us in time our portion with those who have trusted in you and have striven to do your holy will. To your name, with the Church on earth and the Church in heaven, we ascribe all honor and glory, now and forever. Amen.

O death, where is thy sting? O grave, thy victory? The strife is o'er, the battle done. Love will come again like wheat arising green. The Lord bless and keep him. The Lord make his face to shine upon him and be gracious to him. The Lord look upon him with favor and grant him peace.

I'm not a Catholic, and was never really taught to pray for souls, but I think I get it a bit now. He was, though, and if that's something you do, I'm sure he would have welcomed that. (And if you know any good saints to throw in the mix, go for it.) My grandmother could also use your prayers.

Thank you for reading this, and holding for a moment the love I have for him. It's heavy right now, and easier to carry with others' prayers beside me. I am praying beside you as well, especially with the many people who have sent me asks that have gone unanswered for ages now. And God holds all of us, more than we could ever imagine. I don't claim to understand death, but I am in the palm of the universe's hand, and my granddad is too, reunited with all that left him in his sickness, and united with a God who knows death intimately. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, love to love.

<3 Johanna

#death mention

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just-some-random-blogger · 1 year

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Yo! I cannot get enough of dad!dream! Can you write something with reader and Morpheus bonding by her taking him around and showing him what she did while he was trapped and Morpheus lamenting about being gone for so long and missing his child’s (because he absolutely accepts that that is his kid. No ands ifs or buts) milestones.oh! Maybe a scene where he shows her around the dreaming while he’s repairing it and she gets to see what it looks like it it’s full glory!

Star Collector

Dream of the Endless x Fae!Reader (tho tis mostly Dream & his fae!baby girl)

Summary: Your daughter grew up loving flowers. One day, a strange man comes to her whist she was playing in the garden, and she immediately offers him some buds from her collection.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: fem!reader, fae!mother & daughter, girl dad!dream, CUPCAKE BABY GIRL!daughter, fluff, angst?, typos, etc.

A/N: lol u sent this before i even got back to you. update: IM FINALY GETTING BACK TO YOU. I THINK IM IN A DAD!DREAM STREAK. I had a little problem with continuity and feasibility of the kid, well, being a child after dream was trapped for a nearly a century, so i made them fae! hope you dont mind. anyway, i hope you like it, and i hope it was worth the wait my love love love Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

The sky was a lilac and orange color today. The sun was lowly kissing the mountain ranges from across our domain. The dusk left a pinkish haze in its wake. The fireflies were at the start of their debut.

The balmy breeze embraced my daughter as sweetly as I would as she gathered all the flowers in our front lawn to her heart's content.

And I had been in the middle of a chore when I felt a ripple of dread rush through me. The spoon in one hand and the jar of honey in the other quickly left my grips as I ripped my chiffon skirt up and dashed over to the open door by my kitchen. I had a complete view of my baby mere moments ago. Now, she was not at all eye shot.

So as I ran outside, my heart raced; my bare feet galloped across the grass and dirt of the garden.

Then all at once, the air was stolen from my lungs and my movements come to an abrupt halt. He stood there, a tall, dark figure, starkly contrasting the fauna and the tiny, bright baby next to him.

Her voice was small and soft, and her hair tie was loose around her hair. She raises a flower bud and grins from ear to ear.

He bends down and takes the flower bud from her, muttering a gracious thank you.

When he turns to me, a shiver runs down my spine.

I am in utter disbelief. I only realize it was indeed real after he walks over to me and says my name.

I gasp for air, "Dream?"

The next moment, I am in his arms, embracing him tightly.

"You came back to us," I speak against his chest, eyes water.

He presses a kiss on the side on the top of my head, "I apologize I did not come sooner."

I pull away from him shaking my head. I take his face in my hands, grunting softly when I feel the stickiness of the honey in my fingers. I retreat my hands, as not to spread the thing on his cheek, but he presses his hands atop mine, holding me back. His palm covers the back of my hand as he pushes my hold back on him. He sighs at the contact.

My lips quiver at the sight of him. The next moment, I pull him into a kiss, still reeling from the fact he was here and that I could do this.

I wonder if it was me, him, or the time between us, but it felt different. The feel of his lips were both longing and loving but there was feel to it that I could not identify.

When we break away, I take his arm and lead him back to the girl. I look at her then look at him, smiling as I did, "she is a collector, my lord. She has only bore witness to 4 planetary alignments and yet she knows more flowers than I."

I turn to him, wondering if he remembered that that was how our folk counted our age, and that I meant the alignment of the five planets, which, on the basis of other creatures, happened every 19 years.

I do not get to respond or note on how he gulps at my words.

It was blistering reminder that it has been that long.

Dream nods, "she has named many flowers to me," he mutters and smiles, "she is as enchanting as her mother."

I chuckle and lean into him, "but she is as stubborn as her father."

He turns to me furrows his brows at this.

I release his arm with a chuckle and crouch down, beckoning the child over. I call out her name and she turns to me idly. "Come, my love," I wave my hands toward me.

She turns back to her flowers and continues to put them into her basket.

I let out a soft sound and stand. I turn to Dream, "the spitting image, as you see."

Dream's expression hardens. He is not stubborn. He furrows his brows tighter and looks down at the child, calling her name out with authority, making her turn to him. She stills as she looks up at the man, who says, "your mother is calling for you."

She merely blinks at him.

I laugh, shaking my head. I crouch down and lean on my knees. I call out to her again, beckoning her over in a higher pitch, and at last, she finally comes over, although visibly reluctant.

I laugh at her and take her into my arms, peppering her cheeks with kisses as I do so. She coils up and giggles and grins because of this.

Dream watches the exchange and feels his chest tighten.

I turn to him with a smile then back to the child, "my sweetling," I mutter to her, "do you know who this is?"

We turn to Dream at the same time. When I turn back to her, she purses her lips and looks with her wide eyes. She turns back to me, "sandman."

I break into a laugh and nod at her, "yes, my bright star. That is the sandman. He commands dreams."

She turns back to him and leans into me, casually observing the man.

I rock her in my arms and kiss her head, "that's your father, my love. You asked me before why you didn't have a father-"

Dream clenches his jaw.

"-I said you did-"

Because she does.

"-and this is him, darling," I explained.

Immediately, the girl perks, eyes widening even more than they already were. She mutters questioningly, then points, "sandman?"

I nod at her words, "yes, child, sandman is your father."

"Father?" she repeats incredulously, "he is my father?"

Dream feels as though he was kicked in the teeth.

My baby turns to me and whispers, "father?"

I give a sad smile and nod, "yes, baby. Father."

She turns to him and points, "you.... father?"

I turn back to Dream with a smile that is quickly stunted when I see the expression on his face. Dream looks like he was devoid of all color, more so this moment than a while ago.

I release a breath, rocking my daughter in my arms, "my dear, do you want to go to your father?"

The girl turns to me then back to him. She does not speak and only reaches out both her hands to Dream.

Dream instantly stiffens, visibly taken aback by the eagerness of the child. Yet not a second too late, he reaches out for her and takes her in his arms. In that moment, I swear I saw his being twinkle as she leaned into him.

The girl was so little and soft against him. He felt the need to hold his breath, as somehow the act would have been offensive to her. He would never do anything to offend her. It had been so long since he had held something so... so frail, so tender, so delicate in his arms. The moment she placed her clammy palm against his chin, he decided he would die for her. The moment she blinked at him then smiled, his insides scorched with a familiar protectiveness; he would never let anything happen to this creature so long as he was.

"Father," she mumbles through upturned lips. There was apparent splendor in her eyes. He would willingly be put through imprisonment again if only it ascertained that she never loses this gleam.

She smiles from ear to ear, "I love you."

Dream's soul is crushed.

No. He will never be imprisoned again. The thought of never beholding the sight of her sparkling face is the worst punishment anyone could ever muster.

Dream opens his mouth, wanting nothing more than to repeat and reassure his love that he, in fact, loved her too, but somehow, it did not feel right. It felt out of place, it felt cheap. He did not feel worthy to repay her affections when he knew his words were not nearly as genuine as hers. For he was jaded and cynical and so utterly lost.

He is glad that she leans into him, holding him in a tight embrace. He did not have to speak anything it seems

The sight of the father-daughter duo brought tears to my eyes.

I watched as Dream rubbed her back and tightened his hold on her form.

He releases a breath and mutters lowly, "would you like to see my collection, daughter?"

Immediately, his daughte pulls back and perks up. Her lashes flutter in intrigue, "do you-" excited heave, "do you collect flowers?!"

Dream presses his lips into a smile and shakes his head, "I collect stars."

The gasp that leaves her is one of astounded enchantment, "y-you WHAT?!" The girl turns to me with eyes the size as saucers, "mother! HE COLECTS STARS!"

I return her expression with shocked amusement.

Dream brushes her hair back, "I keep them in my coat."

The girl immediately turns to his coat, watching it so intently.

"If you like, I will give them all to you."

She does not hesitate and readily nods in excitement, "I DO, I DO, IDO, IDO, IDOIDOIDO!"

Dream laughs, "then, I say, all the stars in the sky are yours, my love," he announces softly, "however... I am embarrassed to admit, I have just regained my strength. I have yet to finish rebuilding my domain, so I cannot call the heavenly bodies and introduce you as their master for I have nowhere to invite them."

She stays silent upon hearing that. Then after a moment, she looks up at him, "we can invite them to here."

Dream presses his lips into a smile, "a generous offer."

"I can show them my flowers!"

I coo at the girl's sentiment.

"My daughter, bringing a star to the land of the Fae would be unwise," he gently explains, "instead, I will hasten my reconstruction of the Dreaming and bring you there promptly after."

She raises her hand, "I like dreaming!"

He is momentarily taken aback by this. Dream knows well the tide and currents of a child's mind, ever-changing and wild. Their words at times were here then there. It similar to that of dreams. And yet hearing this from his child was similar to having your heart clenched.

"I am honored by you," he adjusts her hold on her, "... would you like to watch me rebuild our Dreaming then?"

She opens her mouth then turns to me. I offer her a smile and nod instantly. She turns back to him and blinks slowly. She hums before she speaks, "I help mother cook, so I help father re-bill our dreaming."

Dream feels those words tug at the very fibre of his being. He gives the faintest of retorts, for he is afraid he would break if he spoke any louder, "thank you."

#dream of the endless fanfic #dream of the endless fluff #the sandman fanfic #the sandman fluff #the sandman x reader #morpheus fluff #the sandman x you #dream x you #dream fanfic #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless x you #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #dad!dream of the endless #dad!dream #girl dad!dream #papa bear!dream #the sandman blurb

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wrappedinamysteryy · 5 months

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HIGHLY REWARDING GOOD DEEDS ✨

1️⃣ Would You Like To Be Close To Allah?

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

"The closest that a person is to his Lord is when he is prostrating, so say a great deal of supplication (in this state)."

📚: Sahih Muslim 482 (1083)

2️⃣ Would You Like The Reward of Hajj?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Perform Umrah in the month of Ramadan as it is equivalent to Hajj or Hajj with me (in reward)."

📚: Sahih Bukhari 1863

3️⃣ Would You Like A Home In Paradise?

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

"Whoever builds a mosque in which the Name of Allah is mentioned, Allah will build a house for him in Paradise."

📚: Sunan Ibn Majah 735 | Sahih

4️⃣ Would You Like To Achieve The Pleasure of Allah (سبحانه و تعالى)?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Allah is pleased with His servant who eats some food and then praises Him for it (says Alhamdulillah - Praise be to Allah) or who drinks some drink and then praises Him for it (says Alhamdulillah)."

📚: Sahih Muslim 2734 (6932)

5️⃣ Would You Like Your Duaa To Be Answered?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"The supplication made between the adhan and the iqamah is not rejected."

📚: Sunan Abi Dawud 521 | Sahih

6️⃣ Would You Like The Reward For Fasting A Complete Month Written For You?

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

"Fasting for three days during the month is like fasting, the whole of the month."

📚: Sahih Muslim 1159 (2736)

7️⃣ Would You Like To Have Good Deeds The Size of Mountains?

Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said:

"(A believer) who accompanies the funeral procession of a Muslim out of sincere faith and hoping to attain Allah's reward and remains with it till the funeral prayer is offered and the burial ceremonies are over, he will return with a reward of two Qirats. Each Qirat is like the size of the (Mount) Uhud. He who offers the funeral prayer only and returns before the burial will return with the reward of one Qirat only."

📚: Sahih Bukhari 47

8️⃣ Would You Like To Accompany The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) In Paradise?

Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said:

"I and the one who looks after an orphan will be like this in Paradise." showing his middle and index fingers and separating them.

📚: Sahih Bukhari 5304

9️⃣ Would You Like That Your Actions Continue After Your Death?

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

"When a person dies, his deeds are cut off except for three: Continuing charity, knowledge that others benefited from, and a righteous son (child) who supplicates for him."

📚: Jami at-Tirmidhi 1376 | Sahih

1️⃣0️⃣ Would You Like A Gem From The Gems of Paradise?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Shall I not tell you of a treasure which is one of the treasures of Paradise?"

He (ﷺ) said: "La hawla wa la quwwata illa billah (There is no power and no strength except with Allah)."

📚: Sunan Ibn Majah 3825 | Sahih

1️⃣1️⃣ Would You Like The Reward of Praying The Whole Night?

The Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said:

"Whoever prays Isha in congregation, it is as if he spent half the night in prayer, and whoever prays Subh (Fajr) in congregation, it is as if he spent the whole night in prayer."

📚: Sahih Muslim 656 (1491)

1️⃣2️⃣ Would You Like The Reward of Reciting One-Third of The Qur’an?

The Prophet (ﷺ) said to his companions: "Is it difficult for any of you to recite one-third of the Qur'an in one night?"

This suggestion was difficult for them so they said: "Who among us has the power to do so, O Allah's Messenger (ﷺ)?"

Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) replied: "Allah (the) One, the Self-Sufficient Master, Whom all creatures need.' (Surat Al-Ikhlas 112:1-4) is equal to one-third of the Qur'an."

📚: Sahih Bukhari 5015

1️⃣3️⃣ Would You Like That Your Scale Is Very Heavy With Reward?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"(The following are) two words (sentences or utterances) that are very easy for the tongue to say, and very heavy in the balance (of reward), and most beloved to the Gracious Almighty (Allah):

« سُبْحَانَ اللَّهِ وَبِحَمْدِهِ، سُبْحَانَ اللَّهِ الْعَظِيمِ »

(Glory and praise is to Allah, Glory is to Allah The Most Great)."

📚: Sahih Bukhari 6682

1️⃣4️⃣ Would You Like That Allah Increases Your Provisions?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Whoever would like his rizq (provision) to be increased and his life to be extended, should uphold the ties of kinship."

📚: Sahih Bukhari 5986

1️⃣5️⃣ Would You Like To Have A House In Paradise?

Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Whoever is regular with twelve Rak'ah of Sunnah (prayer), Allah will build a house for him in Paradise.

Four Rak'ah before Zuhr (and) two Rak'ah after it, two Rak'ah after Maghrib, two Rak'ah after Isha and two Rak'ah before Fajr."

📚: Jami at-Tirmidhi 414 | Hasan

1️⃣6️⃣ Would You Like That Allah Protects You?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Whoever prays the Fajr prayer then he is under the protection of Allah.."

📚: Sahih Muslim 657 (1494)

1️⃣7️⃣ Would You Like Allah To Send Salat (Blessings) Upon You?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Whoever sends Salah (Graces, Honours, Blessings and Mercy, etc.) upon me once, Allah will send Salah upon him tenfold, and will erase ten sins from him, and will raise him ten degrees in status."

📚: Sunan an-Nasa'i 1298 | Sahih

1️⃣8️⃣ Would You Like Allah To Increase Your Honor And Raise Your Status?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Charity does not decrease wealth, no one forgives another except that Allah increases his honour, and no one humbles himself for the sake of Allah except that Allah raises his status."

📚: Sahih Muslim 2588 (6592)

1️⃣9️⃣ Would You Like To Be Distant From The HellFire By Seventy Years?

The Prophet Muhammad (ﷺ) said:

"Whosoever observes fast for one day in Allah's Cause (to seek His good pleasure), Allah will keep his face away from the (Hell) Fire (a distance covered by a journey of) seventy years."

📚: Sahih Bukhari 2840

2️⃣0️⃣ Would You Like To Enter Paradise?

Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said:

"Whoever offers the two cool prayers ('Asr and Fajr) will enter Paradise."

📚: Sahih Bukhari 574

#islam #muslim #islamic reminders #islamic quotes #islamicreminder #islamic

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