#natural remedies for deep sleep

[sleepsia]

Top Natural Remedies for Deep Sleep

Are you tired of tossing and turning all night, desperately seeking the elusive embrace of deep sleep? You're not alone. In today's fast-paced world, quality rest is often sacrificed at the altar of productivity. But fear not, for there are natural remedies that can help you reclaim your nights and experience the rejuvenating power of a truly restful slumber. Join us as we explore effective ways to bid farewell to sleepless nights and welcome in a blissful state of deep sleep.

Introduction to Remedies for Deep Sleep

Struggling to achieve deep, restorative sleep can leave you feeling drained and irritable. But fret not, as there are natural remedies that may help improve your sleep quality. First up on our list is establishing a consistent bedtime routine. Going to bed and waking up at the same time every day can regulate your body's internal clock, making it easier to fall asleep and stay asleep throughout the night.

Another effective remedy for deep sleep is incorporating relaxation techniques into your nightly routine. Activities like meditation, deep breathing exercises, or gentle yoga stretches can help calm your mind and prepare your body for rest. Additionally, consider introducing foods and drinks known for their sleep-promoting properties into your evening snacks or meals.

Alternative methods such as herbal teas like chamomile or valerian root supplements have been traditionally used to promote relaxation and aid in falling asleep naturally. By exploring these remedies and finding what works best for you, you can take proactive steps toward achieving a more peaceful night's sleep.

The Importance of Deep Sleep

Getting a good night's sleep is essential for overall health and well-being. Deep sleep, also known as slow-wave sleep, plays a crucial role in restoring the body both physically and mentally. During this stage of sleep, the body repairs tissues strengthens the immune system and consolidates memories.

Deep sleep is vital for cognitive function and emotional regulation. It enhances focus, creativity, and problem-solving abilities, and helps regulate mood swings. Without sufficient deep sleep, you may feel groggy or irritable during the day.

Lack of deep sleep has been linked to various health issues such as obesity, heart disease, diabetes, and even mental health disorders like depression and anxiety. Prioritizing deep restorative sleep can significantly improve your overall quality of life.

By understanding the importance of deep slumber in our daily lives we can better appreciate its impact on our physical health as well as mental resilience.

The Dangers of Poor Sleep Quality

Poor sleep quality can have a significant impact on both our physical and mental well-being. When we don't get enough deep sleep, our bodies are unable to repair and regenerate properly, leading to decreased immune function and increased vulnerability to illnesses. Additionally, lack of quality sleep can impair cognitive functions such as memory, concentration, and decision-making skills.

Chronic sleep deprivation has been linked to an increased risk of developing conditions like heart disease, diabetes, obesity, and even mood disorders like depression and anxiety. Without adequate restorative rest during the night, our bodies struggle to maintain balance in hormone levels that regulate appetite and stress responses.

Furthermore, poor sleep quality can contribute to heightened levels of inflammation in the body which is associated with a variety of health issues including inflammatory diseases like arthritis. Inadequate rest can also accelerate signs of aging by impacting skin health negatively due to reduced collagen production caused by disrupted sleep patterns.

Natural Remedies for Deep Sleep

Are you struggling to get a good night's sleep? Natural remedies for deep sleep may be the solution you're looking for. Instead of resorting to sleeping pills, consider trying these gentle but effective options to promote better sleep.

One popular remedy is incorporating lavender essential oil into your bedtime routine. Its calming scent can help relax both the mind and body, setting the stage for a restful night ahead. Another natural option is valerian root, known for its sedative properties that can aid in falling asleep faster and improve overall sleep quality.

If you prefer sipping on something before bed, herbal teas like chamomile or passionflower tea are excellent choices. These soothing beverages can help calm your nerves and prepare you for a tranquil slumber. Additionally, magnesium supplements have been shown to regulate neurotransmitters involved in sleep patterns, potentially enhancing your ability to drift off peacefully.

By exploring these natural remedies and finding what works best for you, achieving deep and rejuvenating sleep may be closer than you think.

Establishing a Good Sleep Routine

Establishing a good sleep routine is crucial for ensuring deep and restful slumber. Start by setting a consistent bedtime and wake-up time, even on weekends. This helps regulate your body's internal clock, making it easier to fall asleep at night.

Create a pre-sleep ritual that signals to your body that it's time to wind down. This could include activities like reading a book, taking a warm bath, or practicing relaxation techniques like deep breathing or meditation.

Avoid stimulants like caffeine and nicotine close to bedtime as they can disrupt your ability to fall asleep easily. Instead, opt for herbal teas or warm milk which contain natural compounds that promote relaxation and drowsiness.

Ensure your bedroom environment is conducive to sleep by keeping it dark, quiet, and cool. Invest in comfortable bedding and consider using white noise machines or earplugs if you're sensitive to noise disturbances during the night.

By establishing healthy sleep habits and sticking to them consistently, you can improve the quality of your restorative sleep each night.

Foods and Drinks that Promote Deep Sleep

Eating the right foods and drinks can significantly impact your ability to get a restful night's sleep. Certain foods contain natural compounds that promote relaxation and help regulate sleep patterns. For example, tryptophan-rich foods like turkey, nuts, and seeds can boost serotonin levels in the brain, aiding in better sleep.

Additionally, incorporating magnesium-rich foods such as leafy greens, bananas, and legumes into your diet can help relax muscles and calm the nervous system before bedtime. Herbal teas like chamomile or valerian root have been used for centuries to induce relaxation and improve sleep quality.

On the flip side, it's best to avoid stimulants like caffeine close to bedtime as they can disrupt your ability to fall asleep easily. Alcohol may initially make you drowsy but can lead to fragmented sleep later in the night.

By being mindful of what you consume before bed, you can create an environment conducive to deep and restorative sleep naturally.

Relaxation Techniques for a Restful Night's Sleep

In our fast-paced world, finding time to unwind before bed is crucial for a restful night's sleep. One effective relaxation technique is practicing deep breathing exercises. By focusing on your breath, you can calm your mind and prepare it for sleep. Another helpful method is progressive muscle relaxation, where you systematically tense and release each muscle group in your body to release tension.

Meditation is also a powerful tool for promoting relaxation. Taking just a few minutes to clear your mind and focus on the present moment can help alleviate the stress and anxiety that may be keeping you awake at night. Additionally, incorporating soothing activities like reading a book or taking a warm bath before bed can signal to your body that it's time to relax and unwind.

Experiment with different techniques to find what works best for you. Whether it's mindfulness meditation, gentle yoga stretches, or listening to calming music, establishing a bedtime ritual that promotes relaxation can significantly improve the quality of your sleep.

Alternative Methods to Aid in Falling Asleep

Having trouble falling asleep? Sometimes, traditional methods may not work for everyone. If you're looking for alternative ways to aid in falling asleep, consider trying out aromatherapy. Essential oils like lavender and chamomile can help relax your mind and body before bedtime.

Another alternative method is acupuncture. This ancient practice involves stimulating specific points in the body to promote relaxation and relieve insomnia symptoms. Many people find acupuncture sessions beneficial in improving their overall sleep quality.

Additionally, you might want to explore herbal supplements such as valerian root or passionflower. These natural remedies have been used for centuries to support healthy sleep patterns without the potential side effects of prescription medications.

Some individuals also swear by meditation or mindfulness practices to calm racing thoughts and prepare the mind for restful sleep. Techniques like deep breathing exercises or progressive muscle relaxation can be effective in promoting a sense of tranquility before bedtime.

Experiment with different alternative methods until you find what works best for you in aiding your journey toward a better night's sleep.

Also Read:- What Lies In Store For The Future Of Sleep Health?

Tips for Creating a Peaceful Sleeping Environment

Creating a peaceful sleeping environment is crucial for achieving deep, restorative sleep. Start by keeping your bedroom cool, dark, and quiet to promote relaxation. Consider using blackout curtains to block out any light that can disrupt your sleep cycle.

Invest in a comfortable mattress and pillows that support your body's natural alignment. A good quality bed can make a significant difference in how well you sleep throughout the night. Remove any distractions such as electronics or clutter from your bedroom to create a serene atmosphere conducive to rest.

Try incorporating calming scents like lavender or chamomile through essential oils or candles to help relax your mind and body before bedtime. Consider playing soft music or white noise to drown out any disruptive sounds from outside.

Keep your bedtime consistent each night to regulate your body's internal clock and signal when it's time to wind down for sleep. By following these tips, you can transform your bedroom into a tranquil sanctuary perfect for achieving deep, rejuvenating rest naturally.

Conclusion: Improving Your Sleep Naturally

Incorporating these natural remedies into your daily routine can significantly enhance the quality and duration of your sleep. By establishing good sleep habits, consuming sleep-promoting foods and drinks, practicing relaxation techniques, exploring alternative methods to aid in falling asleep, and creating a peaceful sleeping environment, you can pave the way for deep and restful slumber.

Remember that adequate sleep is crucial for overall health and well-being. Prioritize your rest by adopting these natural strategies to achieve better sleep patterns. Say goodbye to restless nights and embrace rejuvenating deep sleep naturally. Here's to sweet dreams ahead!

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[healthandfitness786]

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[jackstockhypno]

Deep Sleep Slow Speech Hypnosis

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Talking more and more slowly until you drift off into a deep sleep.

Disclaimer: This media is for entertainment purposes only.

The information provided is not intended to replace medical treatment.

Transform Hypnosis and Jackstock are not responsible for any injury or damage resulting from engaging with the content provided.

Never listen to this content while driving or operating machinery, or any time that it is not safe to fall asleep.

Support me on Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Transform

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[marketxmax]

A Restful Revolution: My Experience with Magnesium Breakthrough

For years, I battled with restless nights and an inability to truly unwind. Sleep evaded me, leaving me perpetually tired and foggy-brained. I tried various sleep aids, from natural remedies to prescription medications, but nothing provided lasting relief. Then, I stumbled upon Magnesium Breakthrough, and it proved to be a sleep (and life) changer.

A Comprehensive Solution

What initially drew me to Magnesium Breakthrough was its unique formula. Unlike other magnesium supplements that offer just one or two forms, this product boasts a complete complex of seven different types. This includes magnesium glycinate, known for its gentle and easily absorbed nature, as well as magnesium citrate, which supports healthy digestion.

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Enhanced Sleep and Relaxation

Since incorporating Magnesium Breakthrough into my nightly routine, I've noticed a dramatic improvement in my sleep quality. Falling asleep is now a breeze, and I no longer wake up feeling groggy or unrested. Throughout the night, I experience a deeper, more restorative sleep, which leaves me feeling energized and revitalized in the morning.

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[nutritionistexperts1]

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[learnyogafreeforever]

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[xo-cod]

simon having trouble sleeping! he def gives sleep deprived and his sweet lil gf wants to help him sleep <33

running off to google and you find a list of ways to fall asleep and you see ‘having an orgasm / orgasming’ on the list and you start teasing him, saying stuff like “yeahhhhh, when’s the last time you had an orgasm?” and he’s just staring at you

could've been a lot more nsfw but i love soft simon so bad :( <33

bless him he's so 👁👄👁

"it's goin' to take more than an orgasm to help me sleep, love"

he's skeptical to even try it because he's been a trained soldier so many years, having sex won't just erase all the years of sleepless nights he's spent. naturally he's always been a light sleeper and coupled that with bring unable to rest has left him feeling a little more sluggish over the past couple days.

"just try it once, come on" you chuckled, stroking his hand softly. truthfully you were also beginning to get worried for his health and at this point you were willing to try anything for to help him sleep. he didn't really care for any sort of proclaimed remedies but you were eager to try so he decided to humour you this time

what he doesn't expect is to be incredibly relaxed after the whole ordeal, his head resting against your chest as he sighs softly. for the first time that night does his head finally still with all the thoughts, mind fuzzy between the pleasure and exhaustion settling deep within his bones. all he wants is to bask in the after glow of his orgasm, completely spent and all wrapped up into you

but when you try to shift to get off him, his hands quickly move back over your waist to keep you there. he's reluctant to let you go, a soft yawn falling from his lips as he buries his face deeper within your chest

"one more minute, please lovie" he begs softly into your neck, not wanting to leave the warmth that was you behind nor the way your body hugged him so perfectly or the tender squeezes your muscles provided

"you don't want to pull out?" he can hear your sleepy chuckle from above him and he hides a smile, bringing the blanket tighter around you both

"wanna stay here forever"

#asks #simon riley #simon riley x reader #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod mwii #simon riley x y/n #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #simon riley x reader smut

[swordgrace]

Okay I know you've already written "vampire eating out reader who's 'on the rag'" (to quote Paul) BUT... Can we have one with Astarion? 😩

𖣊 pairing — astarion x fem!human!reader.

FORMAT: drabble — requested.

WORD COUNT: 3.5K.

WARNINGS: SMUT! (mdni), period sex, bloodplay, blood drinking, oral sex (f!receiving), cunnilingus, praise kink, hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), dirty talk, semi-public sex, risk of getting caught, unspoken feelings, astarion gives mad head (I don’t make the rules)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Well, here we are, back to my vampire obsession. I’m so addicted to Baldur’s Gate right now that it’s insane. I had so much fun writing this! This is also my first time writing for Astarion, so feedback is definitely appreciated! I’m hoping to write so much more of him! Thank you all for the support! ❤️

A distant, whistling breeze swept across the tall strands of sungrass, rustling against the threadbare canvas of your tent. It was shoddy lodging at best — certainly not a paradise. Gale and Astarion could afford such luxurious accommodations, but you were left to your own devices. You even envied Lae’zel’s tent, and it wasn’t much better than yours.

Crackling waves of dulled pain continued to ripple throughout the pit of your stomach, a familiar tightening and seizing of muscles that left you restless. Sometimes, humanity could be a horrible thing — you were a slave to your own basic bodily functions.

Shadowheart had bluntly broached the subject of menstruation with you earlier in the day — offered you rags to keep yourself clean. It was embarrassing, admittedly — you wanted to try and keep it all discreet.

Being underprepared for this scenario left you flustered and embarrassed, but you were thankful for her assistance, wariness aside.

Your newfound band of parasite-toting compatriots were becoming the closest thing to family that you had, but there were some you trusted more than others. You often regarded Shadowheart with a healthy dose of skepticism, but she’d been helpful enough.

Glittering rays of silvery moonlight struck through the worn spots on your tent, pooling across your form as you tossed yet again, hands folding together atop your stomach. The dying embers of the campfire dissipated out of existence — the world was dormant.

Sleep eluded you, replaced by the toils of your monthly blood moon that frustrated you to no end.

Halsin was generous enough to concoct an herbal poultice that was supposed to help, but one swig of the earthen liquid, and you were spitting it right back out into the dirt. Much to your dismay, you would be left to endure your cycle in its raw state, no remedies.

The gentle ambiance of swaying grass and the buzz of nature at dusk served as your atmosphere, accompanied by your deep breaths and occasional stifled groans. You rolled over, form awkwardly contorted on your side in an attempt to find some relief.

Your evening clothes were made of thistledown and spidersilk, far more comfortable than the linen-sewn rags you’d been trekking in for the last few weeks. It was all courtesy of a fashionable Drow you’d met in a village in the Underdark.

Your gaze fixated on the low, dimmed glow of a flickering lantern situated in your quarters, sitting soundly alongside your backpack. Orange light danced within the colorful glass, producing minuscule refractions that became a worthwhile distraction.

A fluttering of cloth tore your attention away from the luminous object, and you directed your gaze toward the agape flap of your tent.

Two glittering rubies peered down at you, sanguine hues dancing with a peculiar sheen amongst a canvas of smooth, marblesque flesh. The black ties of his silken nightshirt were left unkept, sleeves pulled toward the crooks of his pale elbows.

Astarion’s vampirism was something you’d become intimately acquainted with.

Perhaps it wasn’t your brightest move, letting him feed from you — but you had no qualms or regrets. Beneath the facade of allure and arrogance, Astarion wasn’t all bad. In the many moments you’d shared of allowing him to drink, you’d learned more, little by little.

“Astarion,” You exhaled, wondering why he’d come to you at this particular hour. He’d fed not long ago — from a nearby stag, and not you. He was ethereal beneath the moonlight, all lean and akin to a statue, living perfection as he lingered within the entryway of your tent. “Is everything alright?”

A sardonic huff escaped him, followed by a familiar tilt of his head, ivory curls swaying with his movements. “I could ask you the very same, darling.” He mused. “It seems that you cannot sleep.”

You swallowed the lump within your throat, sitting up enough within your bedroll to face him fully. “No,” You didn’t want to shower Astarion with the grisly details of your womanly cycle. It was of little importance. “Halsin’s awful concoction left a bad taste in my mouth.”

Astarion hummed, senses attuned to you — truthfully, he could smell you from across the camp.

That familiar siren’s song of blood echoed his name — your blood, above all. He wasn’t above lecherous thoughts, especially when it came to the likes of you. His solution to your little problem was unorthodox — Astarion wondered if you would be open to it.

“Was it that mess of an elixir that left you restless, or perhaps something else?” The pale Elf inquired, noticing the little flickers of realization settling into your features. “I have quite the keen sense of smell, you know. Your predicament is rather obvious.”

As your lips fell apart, Astarion chuckled — it was a rich sound, deep from within the confines of his chest. Embarrassment rippled through you, spreading like a wildfire throughout your body. Tendrils of heat crept along the back of your neck.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” You mumbled, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Is it bothering you?” You hadn’t considered that your blood might’ve had an adverse effect on the vampire spawn, but he dismissed your concerns with a simple wave.

Astarion stepped inside, dropping the burlap flap as it fluttered back into place. His flesh was a beautiful shade, encapsulated by the flickering glow of lantern light as he stood before you. “No,” He clicked his tongue. “I do have a solution to your predicament — with my own assistance, of course.”

Confusion settled into your countenance — Astarion wasn’t necessarily shocked by this, either. You were a delicate little human, a sweet, pious creature that he intended to ravish when opportunity presented itself — such as now.

He drank in your innocence, feeding from your piety as if it were your lifeblood. It was easy to charm you, let you slip into his intricately-spun web of seduction, but in reality, he found himself becoming soft on you.

What a horrid thing — soft on you.

Yet, Astarion couldn’t help himself. Your presence was soothing, providing a warmth that even enveloped his own icy heart. You never asked him for anything — you never used him. He wanted you all the more for it, desired to keep you for himself.

“How could you help me with this?” You questioned, assuming that he had some remedy for you that countered Halsin’s. Anything would do — you were becoming desperate for a solution.

Something shifted in Astarion’s eyes — his gaze became hooded, glazed with some indiscernible notion that caused your stomach to swirl with uncertainty. Your breath hitched within your throat when his cold digits swept across your cheek.

“In a way that I know best,” He crooned, thumb gingerly sweeping along the curve of your jawline. “You would lay back and let me taste you.” Astarion’s suggestion struck you as unorthodox and crude — and you nearly gasped at the insinuation of his words.

“You don’t mean it.” You countered, shivering beneath the icy bite of his embrace. Your flesh felt like scorched earth, blistering with a fever that you couldn’t sweat out — and your remedy, your cure — he stood before you like an ethereal god.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “I do, darling,” He uttered, voice dropping to a delicious octave that seemed to curl around you like a vice, spreading to parts of you that you never thought possible. “It would be mutually beneficial, I assure you.”

A guttural whimper of sheer want coalesced within the depths of your throat, goosebumps dancing across your spine as you contemplated. It felt so intimate — if you were to go through with it, the lines of your relationship with Astarion would be blurred completely.

The desire for relief and for him outweighed logic, and you exhaled, eyes silently pleading with him for his touch. Astarion was enticed — admittedly, he wanted to taste you, bloodied or not.

“If you are worried about the mess, you needn’t trouble yourself, my sweet.” Astarion mused, pearlescent fangs glinting in the low light. “I will take care of you.” Something about his tone made you shudder, wanting nothing more than to give yourself to him — every fiber, every piece.

His growing fondness for you was becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. He hungered for your blood and he yearned for you — a naive human that he initially cared little for. Now, he was enthralled, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“I’ll let you,” You whispered, voice barely above a shrewd whisper as you watched his expression blossom into one of sheer desire. Those crimson hues raked over you, devouring you without action, leaving you a mess, surrendering to him willingly. “Please.”

“How kind of you,” Astarion hummed, sinking onto his knees as his palm spread across the swell of your hip. “I wonder if you taste just as sweet as you look.” His honeyed purr dripped with a warm reassurance, all wrought with want as he eased you down onto your back.

A fire burned within your belly, demanding to be extinguished as you settled down onto the many layers of a tough leather bedroll and feathered blanket. Astarion loomed like a hungering predator as he slipped between your legs, throat hoarse with the sting of thirst.

His cold hands pried at your silken nightshirt, gingerly lifting the fabric towards your chest as it bunched up just beneath your breasts. A wave of cool, brusque night air licked across your stomach, but the sudden presence of Astarion’s lips made you tense up.

He made sure to touch you — caress your supple frame wherever he could. Despite his one-track mind, Astarion wanted to make you feel good. Those practiced digits of his slipped across your ribcage, dragging down toward your abdomen.

“I’ve dreamed of this, coveted this,” He murmured into your flesh, kissing his way toward your weeping cunt. Nimble digits caressed their way to the waistband of your undergarments, tugging them down and away from your body. “Your sweet flesh, your body beneath mine, crying my name from your lips.”

None of this felt real — your head was spinning, mind deliriously dizzy with a newfound desire. You couldn’t discern if his confession was genuine or simply a ploy to subdue you. Truthfully, you didn’t care either way.

Astarion hummed again, nose brushing along the supple skin of your thigh. “Astarion,” You mewled, unable to keep from saying his name. “I—I …” You babbled, savoring the sensation of his mouth on your skin.

You felt his body quiver with a gentle chuckle as he inhaled a gust of your intoxicating scent. It was your distinct perfume intermingled with that of blood — the twang of coppery menses that he intended on consuming.

Even when prone between your thighs, Astarion exuded a rather domineering aura, icy lips peppering a string of kisses against your inner thigh. He wanted nothing more than to bite — indulge himself in your sanguine ichor. The scent between your legs invited him in, instead.

As crimson wept from your core, the vampiric Elf moved forward, skilled tongue languidly dragging across your aching cunt. He shivered when your cruor fell upon his mouth, a taste of your blood that he so desired.

His palms settled themselves atop your plush hips, hooking underneath your legs. He pressed into your flesh, gripping you tightly as he held you firmly in-place. Astarion could feel the visceral, unrestrained way in which your body reacted to him, twitching and shuddering, thighs flexing.

“How delicious,” Astarion purred, voice dropping to a sultry octave. It stroked every recess of your mind, setting your nerves ablaze, making your stomach churn with a wave of butterflies. “My sweetest pet.” He uttered, licking at any drop of scarlet.

Flushed and flustered, arousal pooled between your legs, intermingled with that of your menses. One of your hands haplessly fisted the feather blanket, the other roaming towards that crown of ivory curls. A low, bemused growl tore past his throat when you gripped his tresses.

If anything, it simply encouraged Astarion, whose greed knew no boundaries. He eagerly lapped at your cunt, tongue tracing across your slit. You felt the little twang of relief that he offered, and you were beyond grateful. You felt the desire to reciprocate — if he let you.

It became increasingly difficult to stifle your pleasured mewls and moans, back beginning to arch slightly off of your bedroll. His continued string of lascivious praise and salacious comments made your flesh turn hot, begging for a release of any kind.

The dull burn within his throat was quelled, soothed by your cruor. Astarion was eager, delighting in your pretty noises and the way your body gave into him. He greedily lapped at the sticky menses trickling from your core, lips twitching into a smirk.

His crown of ivory curls felt like Githyanki silk beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, you peered down — you needed to sate your curiosity.

The mere sight of Astarion, coiled and poised like a lithe predator, wedged between your thighs sent you reeling. He could detect your beseeching gaze, and without pause, those vermilion hues flickered to hold your stare.

Instinctively, your body shivered, goosebumps cascading down the length of your spine. You watched in silent reverence as the broad flat of Astarion’s tongue lapped at your cunt, showering your clit in newfound affection. A stray curl fell across his temples — he was beautiful.

A strangled gasp escaped you, and you fell flat once more, fingers seizing up within his tresses. Astarion’s form rumbled with subtle laughter as he keened forward, mouth suckling on that sensitive clutch of nerves. Your reaction was well worth it.

“Astarion,” You cried, thighs rattling like leaves upon a swaying tree. You wanted to thank him over and over again for this — the tight waves of aching pain had subsided. “Gods, I — Feels so good.” A pleasured moan tore past your lips once more.

A sliver of you feared waking the others, potentially alerting the camp to your nightly accolades. You didn’t want to allow your worry to fester, hips rocking forward when his tongue embraced your cunt once more.

One hand traveled from the curve of your hip to the apex of your thighs, two fingers stroking over your weeping entrance. You gasped, soothed by Astarion’s soft laughter as he lifted his head slightly. “So sensitive.” He purred, lips stained in a glistening layer of crimson. He kissed the inside of your knee.

Heat rolled through you in pleasant waves as pangs of ecstasy gripped you. Seeing Astarion’s bloodied mouth made you shiver, only wanting him to continue, bring you to climax. He sank two digits into your cunt, tongue dutifully returning to lap at your clit.

If you were to perish now, you’d die happy and within the throes of your own ecstasy — with a pale, Elvish deity between your thighs.

You’d wanted him for some time, and to finally drown yourself in his affections — it almost didn’t feel real. The practiced, needy lap of his tongue brought you back to reality, making your hips lurch forward once more. Those digits of his gently pistoned in and out of your cunt, ensuring a level of softness.

Rivulets of your menses coated his fingers, much to his delight. Astarion was relentless, driven in his quest to simultaneously feed and soothe your blood moon pains. His perfectly-timed movements of his fingers worked in-tandem with his mouth, tongue flicking from your clit to your weeping core.

A white-hot pleasure blistered through you, beginning to mount into your encroaching release. Your climax was close, stomach swirling with molten heat, body feeling as if it could simply float away.

“A—Astarion,” You whimpered, desperate to get rid of your nightshirt. The coolness of dusk could not alleviate the pure heat you felt now. A shrill cry left your lips when he withdrew his fingers, simply exchanging them for his tongue as he dragged you closer. “Astarion!”

His name felt like an incantation upon your tongue — it was a sultry, desperate plea for him. The Elf thoroughly reveled in your innocuous cries, wanting to hear you chant his name like a prayer. It felt so genuine, affection intermingled with desire.

Astarion’s gaze lingered on you, chest heaving, flesh glistening with a sheen of perspiration, countenance contorted into sheer ecstasy. There was something rapturous in his eyes — you couldn’t see it, but it was certainly present.

A low hum of approval escaped him when you absentmindedly tugged on his curls again, and he rewarded you with a barrage of his tongue. It was a greedy assault on your cunt as the vampire spawn drank from the source, inhaling a gust of your scent.

“Such a pretty voice, darling,” Astarion uttered, and you soared underneath his reverent praise. You were prepared to burst, body tensing, like a blossom unfurling within the sunlight. “You taste delightful.” He knew what it would do to you — he reveled in it.

You shivered, feeling his nose brush along your thigh as he kissed at the skin there, teeth teasing and grazing along your sensitive flesh. He returned to your core once more, lapping at your oozing cunt with glee — and that seemed to be enough for you.

Everything seemed to spin in circles, head fuzzy and body sinking into sheer bliss. Pleasure washed over you in hot, visceral waves as you were brought to your climax, hips tilting upward as you came.

The coil within your stomach snapped, muscles relaxed — the uncomfortable pain had subsided. Even if the relief would be fleeting, you were beyond grateful to Astarion for assisting you. You came to, flushed and flustered, sitting up enough to see Astarion finishing up.

He emerged from between your legs, tongue languidly lashing across his pearlescent fangs and lips. Speckles of crimson were splattered across his chin, but you nearly collapsed at the sight of him sucking on his fingers.

Whatever mess you made, Astarion had cleaned it all away — he never spilled a drop. “That, ah …” What did you say? “Thank you for doing this, Astarion. I don’t know what else to say.” You confessed.

Astarion chuckled, head canting to one side. “Speechless, are we? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time that I’ve left someone in such a state.” He crooned, and before he could move to stand, you reached for his arm, coaxing him back.

“Don’t ever feel obligated to do this,” You mumbled, somewhat embarrassed at the sight of your cruor on his chin. Sheepishly, you swiped it away with your thumb — but he caught it. “I feel like I didn’t do anything in return.”

Instead, the pale Elf held your wrist, ruby hues drinking you in, picking you apart. Astarion remained hushed for a moment as he considered his words, lips quirking into an abnormally tender smirk. “You did return the favor, darling. Your blood is tribute enough.”

Your breath hitched within your throat, but you didn’t protest, gaze subtly absorbing his porcelain features. He was gorgeous — you often felt inferior in his presence, shadowed by his timeless beauty. You smiled at him, fingers reaching to squeeze at his hand. The gesture was unexpected for him, but he made no comment.

“Thank you. I do feel better,” You cleared your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek. “Did you mean what you said, about coveting me and dreaming about this?” For your own peace of mind, you wanted to know where you stood with Astarion.

He should’ve known that you’d ask.

Astarion hummed, neglecting to disclose the truth about how he felt towards you. Part of him was fearful of the implications, of what it could mean — he felt unworthy of you and your piety. “Of course,” He uttered, voice dropping into a more alluring octave. “I would not mind indulging in this again.”

Part of you deflated — intimacy wasn’t the only thing you wanted from Astarion. You wanted his heart. It gave you something to think on, but for now, you were simply content to enjoy his company, lewd or otherwise.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You murmured, visibly sheepish as you glanced back towards your bedroll. “I should try and sleep, I think.” You nearly asked if he wanted to stay with you, but fear and insecurity gripped you in that moment.

“I should hope that your rest is much more productive.” Astarion smirked, pressing a feather-light kiss against your knuckles before rising to his feet. Sharing your bed didn’t seem prudent — for him, it would only make his feelings for you worse.

A soft laugh bubbled forth from your lips before you pulled your clothes back into place, descending onto the feathered blanket. “Goodnight, Astarion.” You exhaled, watching him as he slipped towards the burlap flap of your shoddy tent.

“Rest well, my sweet.” Astarion hummed, and like a shadow, he disappeared into the star-speckled gloom of the night.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #baldur’s gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader

[celenawrites]

John Price is a natural leader.

Always taking the lead on the field and off duty. Always confident, self-assured in his abilities to guide himself and others through difficult situations with ease.

He's always so worried about his team - slipping in some antihistamines in Gaz's pockets whenever his dust allergies kick in and make his sneezes ring out on base at ungodly hours, making sure Johnny doesn't end up recklessly in another communal mess 'fight'', and checking up on Simon after a rough mission drains all life out of his blue eyes, leaving him dull and mute from the trauma of surviving another war.

He never forgets to wish his teammates birthday, always tries his best to push them to take extra leaves so they can visit family and rest after an arduous mission, and even indulges in their frivolous past times, if only to make time pass by easier.

He always remembers to send Kate and her wife flowers as a 'thank you' for hosting him for dinner, never forgets to call Laswell and congratulate her on successful jobs, and makes sure to send the finest bottle of wine for letting some of his 'rebellious actions' go under the radar.

So when he finally comes down with the seasonal flu, you take it upon yourself to reciprocate the generosity he graces everyone with - not letting the man leave the warm, soft bed as you tend to every need of his throughout the day.

"Sweetheart, get back to bed. I'll be fine", John tells you but his stuffy nose makes his voice sound more nasally than usual.

You tut at him, recalling his high temperature, "I cannot laze around while you're suffering and need me, John. Now let me take care of you, and put the cold compress on."

"Yes ma'am."

You run around, from room to room - arranging things and making sure to check in on your dear fiance to make sure he's not in pain while you prepare some home remedies for him.

A herbal mixture you make him drink for his sore throat, which Price downs with a small wince; changing his cold compress with a new one so he can rest comfortably. Turning down the lights so that his eyes don't smart anymore, and he can actually take a nap around noon while you work on lunch - chicken noodle soup and warm porridge that can warm him up from inside and are easy on the stomach - recalling every little trick your Mum did whenever you got sick.

And when you finally come back in the room to find John sleeping, you take a moment to breathe calmly as you slowly admire him. His flushed cheeks, freshly-trimmed mutton chops, his freckle on his nose and how his nose scrunches up while he's deep in his sleep, and how oddly comforting it is - to have him in your home, to see him resting after months of separation and knowing that he possibly hasn't slept this peacefully in ages.

"Take a picture, darling. It'll last ya longer", calls out a raspy voice, followed by a dry chuckle.

Felling your ears warm up at being caught by the very object of your attention, you promptly deflect, "Oh, shut it, you big dork. Lunch's ready, if you'd like to have it."

"With you?" John asks rhetorically, with a small fond smile on his face.

"Always."

#john price x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #call of duty #john price x you #price x you #call of duty fluff #cod x reader #cod fluff #cod headcanons #captain price x reader #price x y/n #price x reader #char.price #celena.writes

[vampirevatican]

Bedtime in the House of Lamentation

pairing: om! brothers x reader

summary: you have a special sleep speaker that changes colors. they check in on your room when they hear noise at night, but it's not you and they find a lone light glowing their nail color or power

Lucifer - blue/red

classical music, but it's the chill kind... ya know the ones you can fall asleep to

fave songs but piano version

white noise

This was one of the nights he does his rounds of the house. Making sure his brothers, Mammon, weren't out causing trouble for him to deal with later. Being the eldest, when he does these check-ins, he'd just open the door and then leave the bedroom resident to whatever they were doing. He never thoroughly checked a room unless something suspicious was going on, or he's heard rumors regarding the resident and their bedroom.

So when he finally gets to the first floor he notes that there's a faint sound of classical music. He ends up at the front of your door and without a second thought he opens the door and is met with the speaker glowing, music flowing from it and your sleeping form.

It seems you tried to pull an all-nighter. Your phone still in your hand, covers not properly covering you, but sleeping so peacefully. A small smirk appears on his lips as he pulls the covers over you, making sure you don't get a cold, and then leaves the room. Maybe he'd need to get not cursed records and finish work earlier so you can fall asleep together.

Mammon - white/yellow

r&b. look me in the eyes and tell me he's not black. go on, yeah that's what i thought.

jazz... now hear me out, casino things

continuing casino stuff, casino ambience

When hears the faint sound of slot machines in the House of Lamentation he's in a whiplash of excited and confused. Didn't he just leave the casino? And there's no way in west devildom that Lucifer agreed to him wanting a mini casino in the house. So naturally he follows the sound and hopes for the later.

But no, it's coming from... your room?! Quickly opening the door he finds a small speaker emitting a light and your phone, charging, right next to it. "Casino ambience..." he whispers reading the title of the video in your phone screen after getting closer to it.

Awww his human missed him, well it's only right that he adds to this bedtime immersion by slipping into bed with you. Crawling into the bed with you, holding you close, he notices you almost stir awake and the small smile on your face. Damn, could you possibly be any cuter right now?! He rubs your back and soothes you back into your deep sleep and soon drifts off as well.

Leviathan - purple/orange

gamer lets plays are playing through the speaker

or maybe a game ost that has sleepy/chill vibes

acnh w/ rain background anyone?

He had left his room for a food break between gaming. He had a few raids and team rounds to do, but right now refueling was more important. That's when he hears something near the kitchen. Putting down his cup noodles he follows the sound and finds it coming from your room.

There was a faint light glowing from the crack in the door and it wasn't the usual bright yellow from the lanterns and fairy lights in the room. Pressing his ear to the door he recognizes the music being one of your cozy games. Gaining no answer from knocking on your door, or calling out to you, he opens the door and instantly covers his mouth. 'Oh my gosh they're so cute! WAIT NO THIS IS CREEP BEHAVIOR!! but...' He practically tip toes into your room and sees the speaker.

Doing a double take he leaves your room as quickly and quietly as possible... after a picture of you with the speaker's light on you first though... you're just too pretty and it's too heart-warming to know when you don't or cant sleep in his room, because you can't sleep, this is how you remedy it.

satan - green

or maybe r/no sleep, r/aita, r/dndhorrorstories, buzzfeeds are you scared

cat radio... no really cat fm

book readings

He's used to you falling asleep while reading to you, or when you'd spend time with him just to fall asleep on his lap waiting for him to finish his books. And yes he'd go cat watching with you. Even plotting to adopt a few if you both ever got the okay from Lucifer. Though he wouldn't have guessed things like that extend to you getting a good night's rest.

This particular night he was entranced by a book in the library when he heard... meowing? Though it wasn't normal meows, it was to the tune of some song. He knows that cats are known to sing sometimes but since when did either of you sneak one into the house? Following the sound he soon realizes that it's some kind of recording because what's next is a narration of a book he's read before.

Noticing the green glow from under the door he decides to check in on you and sees you knocked out. The sound of a narrator, close to his tone of voice, reading you a story as you dreamt away. He couldn't help but smile as a warm feeling took over his heart. To think you needed to hear him, or someone like him, read stories for you to properly sleep was too sweet to bare. He quietly closes the door and heads off to bed for the night.

asmo - pink

meditation or ocean sounds

true crime, makeup or both

honestly smthn that'd be trendy and recommended for sleep

First of all, he didn't expect for you to go to bed so early. Usually he's the one with an early bedtime but tonight was an exception. There was a party he was invited to and he couldn't just ignore his adoring fans.

So when he came back and heard a sleep meditation coming from your room, his curiosity gets the better of him. He decides to take a peek into your room and has to hold back a squeal over how you look sleeping. When it comes to beauty only you could rival him, and this even counts when you're sleeping!

His eyes follow where the faint pink glow is coming from and surprise! it's your little speaker. He can't help admire you and be glad you took up one of his trends. You really do care! Of course he does his bedtime routine and then cuddles up in bed with you. The pink mood lighting and how peaceful it is was just too hard to resist.

beel - red/orange

lullaby music, or 80's rock songs in music box style

podcast

snoring sounds

Beel is known for his late night kitchen rummages. Infact he got used to you not stopping him but helping by joining in or just keeping him company, you'd rarely scold him for his late night rampages. Though tonight you were no where to be found.

When he first passed by your bedroom it was relatively quiet, so he figured you were asleep. Not being able to eat how he usually would, concerned over your absence, he took only a couple snacks and checked on your room again before going back to his.

This time he notices a music box playing and a light coming from under the door. He peeks through a crack in the door he makes from opening it a little, and notices you sleeping. He smiles warmly and the grin becomes bigger when he sees where the light and sound is coming from. You and Belphie slept the same, covered with blankets and surrounded by pillows. It was endearing and he couldn't help but curl up in your room that night with his snacks.

belphie - purple/teal

fave songs but it's in music box style

asmr, and it's like a muffled city, keyboard typing, or rainy day, with music from another room

lofi

Being the Avatar of Sloth, he didn't have to go to you room to see how you were sleeping. Though you did peak his curiosity a little when he heard lofi music coming from your room. Surely you couldn't be so diligent, or a nerd, that you'd be studying at this time of night. Turns out his suspicion was correct, you weren't studying.

He was currently a by-stander of your dreams tonight and he takes note of how he appears in them. It wasn't like he was fully in your dream, no dream self to speak of, but instead things you associated with him.

Taking his powers a bit further he astral projects and finds himself right by your bed. A glow of light seems to pass through his spirit form and looking over he finds where it's coming from, along with what's making your dreams what they are. Smiling a little he looks over at your sleeping form, a bit of your face peeking out from the mass of covers, and notices that you're smiling too. "Cute." He whispers and decides to insert himself into your dreams. You wanted him so bad then fine, he'll be there.

#omswd #obey me! swd #obey me x reader #om! lucifer #om! satan #om! asmodeus #om! mammon #om! leviathan #om! beelzebub #om! belphegor

[bun-z-bakery]

If you’re still taking requests, would you consider writing reader taking care of a sick dogday (and maybe him being difficult abt it?) plz? If not sorry to bother&have a nice day!

Yep! Currently I'm still taking requests! :3 I hope you enjoy!

Cold And Comfort

Dogday has been acting odd and it's gotten to the point where he has distanced himself from everyone, including you.

Naturally, you begin to wonder if you did something that hurt him and he felt the need to distance himself. 

3 days of this was enough and you decided a confrontation was needed. 

“Sunshine?”

You softly call out to him from behind the door. 

It's quiet, only the faint sound of breathing is heard. 

You slowly open the door, closing it behind you as you look around for your giant companion. 

It didn't take long to spot him wrapped in a pile of blankets, he even covered the window blocking the sun rays that he loved to feel on his fur. 

Carefully you make your way to him and gently shake him. 

“Dogday?”

You whisper to him as you take a seat beside him. 

Slowly he begins to wake up, you know from experience that Dogday is the type to enjoy sleeping in and will even sometimes pull you into a nap even if you have work around the house to finish. 

“Angel?”

He moves under the blankets and then slightly uncovers his face. 

He uses an arm to cover his eyes from the sun's rays. 

His voice sounded strained, similar to how it was in the factory. 

“We're worried about you, is so–”

He cuts you off with a series of sneezes, at first you thought it might have been the dust. 

The room was used as extra storage after all. 

But then you remember how he felt when you touched him. 

He was …scorching? 

“Are you ok?”

You try to keep calm as you feel around his face, but he can already sense your rising panic. 

You weren't familiar with toy anatomy, but this certainly wasn't something anyone warned you about. 

Surely he couldn't be sick, right?

Dogday takes a deep breath, you can hear a slight wheezing coming from his chest. That was all you needed to confirm your suspicion. He was in fact sick. 

“I feel terrible, I apologize for scaring you, my Angel.”

He covers himself again as he lets out a painful cough that makes you cringe. 

Seeing him in such a state made you upset. 

You try to think of all the reasons why he could've gotten sick. Allergies? 

“I don't understand how this could've happened.”

Maybe you were in contact with someone who was sick and you gave it to him. 

Does that mean there's a chance Poppy and Kissy are sick too? 

Whatever the case may be, he couldn't stay here. 

“Come on, let's get you out of here this dust isn't helping you!”

You exclaim as you try to pry him out of his blanket cocoon, but he refuses to move. 

“Angel, please don't fuss over me. I can assure you I'll be–”

He coughs before he can finish and you quickly remove the blankets. He begins to shiver once he's fully exposed to the air. 

“Dogday.”

You hold out your hand and he takes it, he's careful not to pull you down with his weight. 

Poor thing was shivering like a wet dog, but it had to be done. Aside from baths, he's never this difficult. 

You couldn't help but wonder why the sudden change. 

It took a bit of convincing, but you managed to get him back to your room and tucked him back into his blanket cocoon. 

“I'm not letting you move an inch.”

“Angel, don't worry about me…”

He attempts to plead with you again but unfortunately for him, you don't give up that easily. 

He was going to get better and you weren't going to let him suffer when you could help him recover faster. 

You gently scratch his ear, it doesn't take long for your gentle touches to put him to sleep. 

Quietly you make your way downstairs to make him a pot of soup. 

If he was able to get sick like a human, surely human remedies would work too right? 

Once you're finished you make your way back to your room with a bowl large enough to hopefully satiate someone as large as him. 

You thank Kissy Missy for opening the door and she gently closes it behind. 

Dogday must've been exhausted if he didn't hear you enter the room. 

You set the bowl on the nightstand and gently shake him once again in an attempt to wake him. 

“Sunshine!~"

You whisper to him and instantly his eyes greet yours. 

He begins to sniff the air before his eyes land on the bowl next to him. 

“Angel please, you didn't have to trouble yourself cooking for me…”

He said softly as he turned his gaze back to you. 

You sigh as you take a seat on the bed and turn to face him. 

“It was no trouble, you're no trouble! But you know what would be?”

He tilts his head to the side. 

“What?”

“No one eating the pot of soup I made.”

You jokingly pout. 

Dogday gives in and finally allows you to take care of him. 

Secretly he does feel guilty every time you need to cook different meals and buy extra medicine when the regular doses aren't effective. 

But he's glad it was his Angel who was by his side. 

Just like you had thought he did get better faster under your care. 

Soon enough he was back to his old self. 

‧₊ ๑˚.・

You lay in bed reading a chapter of a book as you unwind for the night. 

Suddenly you feel something heavy as your lower half sinks into the bed. 

“Hey.”

You chuckle as you hold the book to the side. Dogday lay sideways on the bed, he didn't fit in the bed laying sideways but he was in a good mood. His tail was always a dead giveaway. 

“I don't deserve you angel.”

He says in almost a whisper. 

His voice sounded much healthier than I did a few days ago, you've never been happier to hear his barks and howls again. 

“Is that why you were giving me a challenge?”

It saddens you to know how he felt but with his situation, you could see where he was coming from. 

“You've done more than enough for all of us. I don't want you to deal with more than you already are...”

“Well, your angel seems to think differently.”

You give him a reassuring smile and pet his head. 

“I think you deserve this and much more. Now please get some rest.”

You giggle at the last part as you playfully poke his cheek. 

“I've been resting all week!”

He laughed as he straightened himself to lay next to you.

“Hey, Angel?”

He turns his head to you. 

“Yes, Sunshine?”

You replied as you turned your head to face him as well. 

“Would you mind making that soup again for me?”

You quietly chuckle and put your book down for the night. 

“Sleep and I'll make all the soup you want until you're sick of it!”

You both laugh and Dogday quickly rolls over, hogging the blanket all to himself. 

You put your book on your nightstand preparing to say your goodnights but Dogday beat you to it. 

“Goodnight Angel!”

You playfully snicker as you try to stop his tail from hitting you. You couldn't help but smile at how the little things you do bring him the greatest joy. 

“Goodnight Sunshine.”

#Dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #sunnyangel #dogday #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #Smiling critters dogday #bun z receipt

[ddarker-dreams]

What would scara do if you usually have troubles surrounding sleep, whether it's you having trouble falling asleep or going to sleep way too late even though you know it's not good

outwardly, he's grumpy about it, complaining that you're making things needlessly difficult as if you actively chose to have insomnia. secretly staring at you while you're asleep is one of his primary hobbies! what is he supposed to do now? stare at you unblinkingly while you're awake? no, that's embarrassing, it'd damage his pride.

then there's the issue of you needing sleep, due to you inhabiting a mortal body (for the time being). what a headache this is turning into. mortals can die from the slightest, seemingly insignificant circumstances, he's heard of them perishing from a bee sting. what a fallible form. he's trying to act nonchalant to disguise his inner panic. his overprotective nature borders on unreasonable. a branch could break off and bonk your head by pure happenstance and he'd eviscerate the tree as if it willingly participated in attempted murder. so this... this is a dilemma. he'll tell you to "figure it out yourself" while consulting numerous doctors and researching dusty tomes for esoteric fixes.

imported teas, changes in linen and pillows, adjusting temperature/light, burning incense... he's going through all the potential remedies in alphabetical order.

however, if you're the one choosing to go to bed late for whatever reason, he's genuinely irate. what foolish reasons must be floating around in your head to play with your health? why must he double as your (unwanted) lover and caregiver? he'll snap at you when he catches you waddling about, demanding that you go to bed immediately. he'll grab you by the sleeve and drag you there himself should you insist on being difficult.

there is a hidden solution to this, if you're willing to indulge in a little lip service: tell him that you're staying up so you can spend more time with him and whew. oh boy. he's wrapped tighter around your finger than a noose upon an executed man's neck. does he know you're being coy? deep down, probably, yeah. but in the moment, that doesn't matter. you're... you're flirting with him, and he'd be damned if he lets this opportunity, manufactured or not, pass him by.

#yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #scaramouche brainrot #concepts #answered #Anonymous

[badgerbl00d]

one piece boys being overprotective...

☆ characters: sir crocodile, dracule mihawk, captain smoker

☆ up next: drinking with the one piece boys pt. 2

☆ summary: how each of these characters comes to your aid and save u

☆ a/n: definitely want to make more parts to this.. please feel free to make suggestions! enjoy ;3

crocodile:

“Meet me there tonight,” Crocodile yawned, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. 

You closed your eyes as he tucked you back into bed, gently covering you in a mass of blankets and sheets. 

Sleep overtook you as you watched him put on his coat and slip out of the door, smiling to yourself as you noticed he’d left his watch on your nightstand. 

The bed he’d bought you was unbelievably comfortable and dangerously warm. The biting cold desert nights were remedied with the matching duvet and silk pillow sheets he’d gifted you and the only thing that made sleeping better was when he’d stay the night. 

But you understood the nature of your relationship- if you could even call it that. 

The affection and softness he showed you were for no one else to know about, and that much had been made clear. 

Yet, you couldn’t find yourself worrying too much. Crocodile was, of course, one of many benefactors whose attention you’d grabbed and you were overtly aware of the effect you had on him. 

You’d meet him at any bar he asked you to, take care of any business he needed handled, and when he called, you’d come. 

But as much as you knew you weren’t entirely his, he knew he wasn’t entirely yours. 

The clock read 9:00 when you decided to get ready.

A sleek black dress with a plunging neckline that hugged you where your flesh curved. 

Glossy black heels, extending your long legs and paired with a red lip. 

You grabbed your wallet and pulled your coat over your shoulders.

It smelled like Crocodile. Expensive cologne and cigars. Last time you’d worn it some wine had spilled and he offered to have it washed. It carried the clean scent of lemongrass that all his clothes smelled like. 

You couldn’t help but take a deep breath before stepping out. 

The bar was busier than usual, there was even a jazz band playing. The music was soft and cool, you made a mental note to ask them for a business card, as you were sure this was the kind of thing your lover would love to have at his next party. 

Sauntering towards your usual spot at the bar, you took the only open seat next to a blond gentleman who was chatting with the bartender. 

He had on a blue suit and an obnoxiously loud laugh. 

The bartender made his way over to you, “Anything I can start you off with?”

“Just a martini please,” you asked. 

“Fufufu~ Put it on my tab,” the man next to you said to the bartender. 

You looked over at him, smiling, “Thank you. Do we know each other?”

���Not yet,” he said, he wore sunglasses, but you could feel him looking you up and down and suddenly felt very vulnerable, “But I’d like to.”

Something was off about him. You could sense something predatory in his voice and the hairs on the back of your neck started to rise. 

But Crocodile would be there soon and you’d been looking forward to your martini so you decided to at least finish the drink before finding some bad excuse to leave. 

You sipped on your drink and politely entertained his odd questions, like Where did you like to shop? What fabric feels best on your skin? and What perfume were you wearing?

The longer you spoke with him, the more you felt an intense and unnerving hunger invading him. 

“What brings you here?” you asked, finally reaching your limit to his never ending questions.

“Just waiting for an old friend,” he answered, amused by you.  

Silence followed your question. You’d finished your drink a while ago so there was nothing left to do but sit and wait. 

You could feel the man’s eyes watching you, almost as though he were trying to look through your skin. 

You heard the door of the bar swing open and turned around. 

Relief washed over you as you saw Crocodile walk in, extremely tired and in need of a drink and some sloppy kisses. You’d provide him readily with both. 

He walked over to you smiling and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, “Sorry about the wait, Sweetheart.” 

“Pretty girl you’ve caught,” your ‘friend’ said, the odd lilt in his voice setting you on edge.

You watched Crocodile’s entire demeanor shift in an instant. 

His eyes narrowed like a cat’s and there was a shift of energy in the room. It filled with tension and sand from floor to ceiling. 

“Doflamingo,” Crocodile stated. 

“She’s kept me in good company,” he mused, gesturing towards you, “Clever girl, and such a sweetheart. Didn’t even recognize me. Isn’t that cute?”

“Y/n, we’re leaving.”

You nodded and got up, making your way towards him.

“Ah-” you yelped as a sharp slice of pain cut through your wrists as you felt yourself jolted a few feet backwards, your back hitting against his clothed chest. 

“Surely, Crocodile, you’re not too vain to share?”

You felt the air get sucked out of the room, a wave of anxiety flooding through every living thing in that bar. 

Awkwardly yet quickly the bar's patrons left, running once out of the confines of the four walls holding the two warlords.

Sweat dripped down your body and your breathing was starting to become panicked. 

The pressure along your wrists was getting worse and you had no idea what was happening. A thin line of blood dribbled down your forearms as your hands were raised above your head as though pulled by some invisible string. 

A calloused hand pressed your face against his own, and you froze as you felt Doflamingo’s tongue 

“I suggest you end your little game now Doflamingo,” Crocodile said, his voice calmer than he looked, “Out of the two of you, there’s only one I can dry out, and it isn’t the one covered in sweat.” 

You felt grains of sand rubbing against your skin and looked down to see your assailant's leg was getting dried out.

“Fufufufu~ too much pride to share, but not enough to avoid jealousy.”

With a grunt of dissatisfaction the hold on your wrists ceased and your fall to the floor was stopped by surprisingly soft sand. 

Crocodile helped you up, wiping away the blood from your wrists and tearing his pocket square in half to tie around each of your wrists. 

He helped you up with a shocking delicacy, and walked you out of the bar. Sending in Mr. 1 to finish taking care of the situation for him. 

A car picked you up and your lover tended to your wounds. Brushing your hair out of your face and letting you change into his shirt. Your clothes were torn and stained with blood and dirt. 

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he assured you.

You laughed, “That’s okay, I did like the coat though. It smelled like you.”

He sighed, rubbing circles on your back. 

You’d be the death of him.

“Let me take you back to yours,” he said, pressing kisses to your head, “I- I’d like to see that you’re alright.. and I believe I left my watch there.” 

mihawk:

You rubbed your husband’s back in an attempt to console him as you both watched the Red Haired pirates unload their ship on Kuraigana Island. 

“You know this means we’ll get no sleep for the next week,” Mihawk said, “And that we’ll be in dire need of food and a maid by the time they leave.”

You laughed, “But it gets so lonely here! You wouldn’t know because you’re always leaving, but I get lonely and bored. And I’ve heard they like a drink or two.”

“Or two.”

The two of you sat and observed as they finished unloading and docking the ship, and you pressed an outburst of kisses to his head, tugging your hand away from his. Laughing at his reluctance to greet his unwanted guests. 

“How are ya’ Sweetheart?” Shanks hugged you and pressed a big kiss onto your cheek, earning a glare from your husband. 

“I have one for you too, Hawkeye,” he said, approaching the swordsman who reluctantly allowed himself to be embraced. 

You greeted the rest of the crew, and only Beckman had the decency to withhold a kiss. 

The drinking had started before the sun had a chance to set. By early dusk, with golden rays still streaking the sky, cups were being filled. To your pleasant surprise Mihawk allowed himself slight indulgence and was portioning out a pint for himself. 

You’d started off well, just a glass of wine. But by your second you were already messily kissing your husband- much to his (well hid) enjoyment. 

Since you weren’t a pirate or a powerholder you rarely accompanied Mihawk on his expeditions, they were too dangerous. And though you couldn’t complain about the castle you were living in, you could definitely complain about the boredom. 

There was plenty to do, you’d planted a garden and the island cats had taken a liking to you. You had an enormous library and a beautiful kitchen. 

Yet you found yourself incredibly happy to be here, partying with pirates who had stories and scars and were loud and boisterous and dangerous and exciting. 

So when the crew’s sniper suggested shots you were the first to participate. 

Mihawk stayed seated in the back and gave you a nod of encouragement 

“He does leave me here with his wines all day,” you joked, earning an eruption of laughter from the men. “She’s drinking you dry, Hawkeye!” one yelled. 

“Oh I most definitely am,” you teased, winking at your husband, who choked on his drink. Another fit of laughter seized the pirates, especially the captain. 

“I like her,” he said, taking a seat next to the swordsman.

“How about a drinking game,” one of the men yelled.

A chorus of yeses followed. 

“Rules are simple, player says heads or tails, if their guess is right the coin goes to the next person, if the guess is wrong you remove one article of clothing and take a shot.”

The sound of a sword unsheathing silenced the entire party. 

“Might wanna adjust some rules there,” Shanks laughed.

“I-if the guess is wrong you take a shot.”

“One more sweetheart,” Shanks laughed, “C’mon!”

You nodded eagerly, firmly gripping the overflowing shot glass in your hand, the bitter brown liquid sloshing over the rim. 

You choked down your sixth shot of the night, biting back the urge to gag. You weren’t sure what you’d just swallowed but its effects were nearly immediate. 

The sound of your heart pounding throughout your body was making you dizzy, and the sound of waves crashing led to a subtle nausea spreading across you. 

The sun had long set and night covered the island. You’d all been partying and drinking for hours.

“Another!” you slurred, grabbing onto the captain’s arm.

The crew laughed and Shanks poured you another shot, bringing it to your lips for you.

“That’s enough,” you felt a strong hand wrap around your waist, and saw Mihawk pull the shot glass away from your lips. 

“‘m perfec’ly fine,” you insisted, hiccupping. 

“I can tell,” he mused, “Let’s go sit for a while.”

Mihawk held a water bottle to your mouth, wiping the spilling water off your lips with his thumb. 

“Tired, cariño?”

You nodded, bringing his arms down around your waist.

You were undeniably adorable with pouty lips and warm, rosy cheeks. 

But he knew drunk pirates and didn’t think you needed to be surrounded by them any longer. He lifted you up onto his lap, where you found a worthy pillow in his chest, bringing your arms to rest around his neck. 

Mihawk started the walk up to your room, to get you ready for bed and you half-heartedly waved goodbye to the loud and laughing entourage of pirates in your backyard. 

You’d have a terrible headache in the morning and be hungrier than usual, and your husband would bring you medicine and breakfast in bed. 

smoker:

Vice Captain Smoker was a serious man who was both dedicated and loyal to his work. Morally and legally he upheld his reputation and duty as a successful marine and had a generally better record than his subordinates, peers, and supervisors. 

Loguetown’s reputation had been single handedly transformed under his supervision.  

More often than not the man’s mind was occupied with quotas and deadlines, meetings with higher ups he was dreading, and whipping the lower ranked marines into shape.

But Friday nights when Tashigi would stay late so he could leave early, there was one other thing he allowed himself to think about.

You.

He wouldn’t admit it to himself and it was more of a subconscious attraction than a spoken one but every Friday, without fail, he’d stop by the bakery you worked at to get a latté. 

You had found yourself looking forward to Fridays. The city was surprisingly quiet those nights despite it being the start of the weekend and by the time the Captain came around you were getting ready to close up shop.

He was easily noticed for several reasons, mainly because he was well known (and feared) but also because he always made conversation with you. The first few times you were slightly taken aback at how chatty he was, he was known to be a man of few words and it unnerved you to see him so talkative. 

By the fourth cup of coffee you’d served him you saw him as a regular. 

In reality, Smoker himself was surprised at his change in demeanor when he was around you. 

As though someone were feeding him lines, he found himself able to just talk. 

About the weather and the city, but also to ask you about yourself. 

After a month or so of visiting you he found himself craving coffee on Mondays. And eventually Tuesdays and Thursdays, and sometimes- when he was in a particularly good mood- he’d even go on Wednesday mornings to pick up coffee for the entire department. 

And you, increasingly eager to see your favorite regular, would always have his order ready when he arrived. 

A time or two you’d even brushed hands when passing the coffee and in both of you a feeling of nervousness and pleasure was revealed on your skin through a light pink blush. 

It was a Tuesday evening, right as you began closing that a new customer came in. He asked for a cake and said he’d need it by morning. 

You explained that it wouldn’t be possible, as you were closing now and he was welcome to put the order in the following morning. 

“I’ll pay five times whatever you’re selling this stuff for,” he offered, “My captain likes sweets and I was just let on the crew and he gave me this errand and said I had to-”

You interrupted his rambling with a nod and said you’d do it for five time’s the asking price. 

 ฿550 for a single cake wasn’t an opportunity you’d pass up, and you figured you’d compensate for the lack of sleep tomorrow.

You’d stayed up the entire night working tirelessly to make sure the cake was ready. When you say to take a “short break” before opening, you’d passed out on the counter, forgetting to set your alarm.

You heard soft knocking on the window and were jolted awake. Rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes you looked over to see Smoker puffing his cigar outside your shop, a concerned look on his face.

You got up to unlock the door and let him in.

The sun wasn’t up yet. The clock read 5:00.

“You’re here early,” you said.

“Yes.. Well, I walk this way to my office and I saw you sleeping. Are you alright?”

You nodded.

“You’re sure? Did you sleep here? Do you need anything?”

Your eyes widened and the color of your cheeks conceded your embarrassment.

“No! Yes, I stayed in the shop late,” you explained, “A customer needed a cake ready by this morning.”

Smoker nodded.

“Thanks for asking.”

He nodded again. 

You started getting his coffee ready as you talked.

“ Don’t those take a long time to make? Do you usually do that? Stay late, I mean.” he gestured towards the display of pastries.

“Not usually, no,” you laughed, at his onslaught of questions, “But he made a fantastic offer. Five times the asking price! He said something about his Captain. I think he was a pirate. I didn’t pay much attention after he offered the money.” 

Smoker laughed.

“Oh,” you added, “Please don’t arrest him until after he pays.”

You liked the sound of his laughter and joined him in giggling. 

“Any requests for your latté art today?”

“Surprise me.”

You handed him his coffee and refused his payment, assuring him he was a regular customer and it was quite alright. 

“Then let me use this to buy you a coffee.”

You smiled and assured him you had all the coffee and sweets you could possibly need.

“But if you’ll let me borrow that bill for just a moment, I’ll leave you something.”

Smoker looked confused, but had no hesitation in offering you the money.

“This is probably the only way I can get you to keep your money.”

You took out a pen and scribbled down your phone number on the bill.

He blushed as you handed it back to him, gently folding it into his pocket. 

“If.. you aren’t busy tonight” he started, hesitating, “I’d love to take you out to dinner.”

You looked up at him. 

“I’m not busy!” you nodded eagerly, “I’d love to!”

“Is 7 alright then?”

“Perfect,” you said, “Just call me.”

Smoker walked out, smiling more than he thought he ever had, 

It was cold out and he went to take a sip of his coffee, he thought to himself that it tasted better than usual. 

#crocodile #sir crocodile #crocodile x you #crocodile x reader #crocodile x y/n #sir crocodile x you #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x y/n #sir crocodile smut #one piece crocodile #mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk x you #mihawk x reader #mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk x you #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x y/n #dracule mihawk smut #one piece mihawk #smoker x you #smoker x y/n #captain smoker x you #captain smoker x y/n #captain smoker x reader #zoro x you #ace x you #luffy x you

[heich0e]

THE WITCH'S SONG - part two knight!osamu/witch!reader tags: fem!reader, royalty!au, supernatural!au, witchcraft, enemies to lovers, mentions of violence/illness/death, persecution and oppression, tw blood/gore, please read the tags on each chapter as updated and minors do not interact. crossposted to ao3 MASTERLIST

For as long as you can remember, you have always risen with the sun.

It’s a habit so deeply constitutional that you've never bothered to question that part of your own nature—the breaking light cresting over the horizon each day, perfectly in time with the first flutter of your eyelids.

Your bedsheets are gentle against your skin as you rouse from your slumber. They're buttery soft, perfectly worn-in from the many nights of rest you’ve found under their cover, and the scent of fresh air still clings to them from an afternoon spent hanging on your clothesline a few days prior. You nestle your cheek into the downy embrace of your pillow, breathing in deeply to savour those lingering notes of summer breeze. You let the breath fill every corner of your chest as you inhale, feeling the way your ribs rise to make room for it, and then you let it out again in a warm rush. You repeat the cycle a few times more, and slowly take in the first moments of your day as your eyes adjust to the early morning light.

With your your arm crooked at your elbow, your hand sweeps lazily around beneath your pillow. You search blindly for a moment, unhurried but sure, and then your fingers brush against something solid and cool hidden away under the feathery mass. You wrap your fingers around the object and draw it out, holding it up above your face to appraise it.

It’s a pair of silver scissors, with a sprig of dried lavender fastened to them beneath a thrice-knotted length of thin white twine.

Outside your window, the milky indigo sky provides very little light. The distant sun is still only a sliver of light peeking out over the eastward sea, but what little glow the new dawn provides catches in the scissors's polished silver surface. You see the distorted image of your own eye, just a glimpse reflected along the narrow blade, staring back.

Sleep does not come to you peacefully, and it hasn’t for a long time. It seems to fight you, tooth and nail, each night, but the battle is ever-changing. Sometimes sleep evades you completely, leaving you to toss and turn restlessly until the moon disappears and the day starts anew. Other nights, slumber overtakes you quickly, but its true violence strikes when you’re left at your most vulnerable—nightmares whose claws sink themselves so deep into you, you can still feel their phantom pain long after you tear yourself awake in a cold, trembling sweat.

Your fingers tighten around the scissors in your grip—still cool to the touch, as though your body heat cannot warm them.

The scissors are a simple charm to keep away terrors that might creep in while you sleep. Just like them, the collection of carefully crafted and curated trinkets that surround your room—dried flowers, jagged crystals, hand drawn sigils inked upon slips of silk and parchment—are all kept in an effort to rest peacefully. To ward away anything that may prevent it.

You didn’t always have so many.

You didn’t always need them.

These items are tacked to your walls, line your windowsills, and hang from the tall posters of your bed—each and every one a remedy originating from a carefully documented entry in your mother’s grimoire. The massive tome rests presently at the foot of your bed, tangled in your quilt. You often fall asleep—as you had the night prior—poring over the parchment pages, bound in strong leather tanned a deep midnight blue, filled with a familiar sloping script that makes your heart ache. Her life’s work and story, her own magic and every piece of knowledge ever shared with her, is contained within those precious pages.

It’s one of the last parts of her that remains.

Thankfully your mother's charms served you well throughout the night, as you feel relatively well rested as you rise from your bed—pulling a housecoat on atop your poplin nightdress and stretching your arms up over your head to welcome the day. You tug your quilt up to meet your pillows, tucking it in neatly at the corners, and then you close the heavy cover of the grimoire that rests at the mattress’s edge. You let your fingers trace lightly over the embossing on the cover as you appreciate it, and then you slip it safely into the trunk at the end of your bed where it belongs.

You’re a little surprised that your visitor from the night before hadn’t caused more of a disturbance to your sleep, already so capricious, particularly given the terrible sense of foreboding that had been hanging over your cottage in the days leading up to his arrival—like a heavy, briny fog rolls in from the sea. You choose not to question good fortune, at least not so early in the day—shaking your head as if willing the unwelcome thought away—and you set about your usual morning routine as though nothing in the width of the world is different than it has been any day prior.

You wash, prepare a light meal, and dress yourself in simple attire suitable for a day’s labour, all before the sun has fully risen from the cradle of the horizon. You plan to work in the garden again today, tending to your plants with the meticulous care they require. You aim to start early in hopes of completing the task before the hottest part of the day makes the work less pleasant—the air at dusk the night before had smelled so sweet, a faithful harbinger of a sunny day ahead.

The grass still glimmers with dew as you step outside your cottage, breathing in the clean, crisp air. Across your property, the sun is just about to creep up over the sea, though there’s a lilac brume that cloaks it—a gentle shroud that lets you see her shape without straining your eyes. You keep your feet bare as you tread towards the garden, listening to distant birdsong, and the blades of dew-damp grass kiss against your soles with every step.

You pause at the break in the wall that surrounds your cottage, the threshold between your garden and your home, and take a deep breath in. The wind kisses your cheek as a breeze rushes past, and the plants rustle around you as if bidding you good morning. On your exhale, you breathe the greeting back.

The light continues to rise in the sky as you labour, soon burning off the gossamer mist that tends to linger early in the morning until the day is bright and warm and fully underway. You shuck the knitted sweater you’d worn out at dawn as the temperature climbs with the sun, and eventually cuff your trousers at the ankles too, but you pay little attention to the heat of the day as you go about making sure your plants are watered, pruned, and any that require special attention are given what they need.

You sing softly while you work.

Witches have long sung songs while they toiled, or gathered together, or just as a means to pass the time. It's a cherished tradition among your kind, and you were taught when you were very young that a witch’s song is a sacred, honoured thing—her voice a gift and a powerful tool.

You don’t sing as much as you ought to, nor as loudly. Perhaps, not least of all, because there’s no one there for you to sing to save for your budding rows of plants. Some of y our earliest memories, the ones hazy at the edges as they’ve been eaten away by time, are of your mother singing in her own garden at the house that you were born in.

Why do you sing to them, mother?

On the edge of a northern breeze, you can hear your own voice—higher, lighter, happier than what it grew to be. You squint up into the midday sun as you reflect.

So they can remember us, Button.

Button.

She called you that because you were always losing yours when you were young; returning to the little cabin you called home at the end of the day with dirty knees, pockets full of shiny rocks, a handful of berries to share with her before dinner, and with one less button on your dress than you’d set off into the woods with that morning.

You remember her impossibly soft hands patting over your head, your arms, your legs, as she appraised you for any bumps or bruises. You remember her breathy laugh as you told her your scrapes and nettle stings didn’t even hurt. You remember her gentle eyes, always sparkling like she was telling you a secret.

Don’t you like when I sing to you? Doesn’t it make you happy?

Your little ribbon-haired head couldn’t have been quicker to nod if you’d tried—your answer to her question came immediate and fervent. Your mother's voice was your most favourite thing.

Well, it makes the plants happy, too—and that happiness will help them grow. Their roots will dig down deep into the earth, and they’ll take all our stories that I sing to them there, too.

You recall the childhood fantasy of each word of your mother’s song spelled out in sprawling, knobbly roots, hidden underground, being kept safe by the earth.

Your eyes flutter shut, blocking out the sun and trapping in the fleeting memory.

The songs she sang to you, the stories that she told, the grimoire in the truck at the end of your bed. Those are all that you have left of her now. You keep them safe just like the soil covered up the roots.

Since time immemorial, song has been used to pass tradition from one generation of witches to the next—the legends of your people, the same ones you recite now as you snip the reedy leaves away from your precious plants, were all taught to you in verse and chorus.

Men flock to the melody of the witch’s song like moth to flame. To hear it is to be bewitched by it. Your mother warned you of such a thing, in the same way all young witches are, and of what might happen should your song be overheard.

The history of man calls the witches temptresses, because of their own weakness to their song. Sirens. Man-eaters. That’s how they choose to remember it in their own egocentric folklore; the witch's song is a weapon used to ensnare them, and nothing more. They hide their own antecedent failings by laying blame, and burning any testament that remembers it otherwise.

You've known one truth as long as you've known anything: men are gluttonous, self-serving beasts. They see the world solely as it relates to themselves. They'll take anything in which they see beauty. And they'll immortalize their story, inked in your kind's blood, only as seen through their own eyes.

But the witch’s song was never meant for man.

You pause, your eyes still tightly closed, with your face turned up towards the sun.

Miya Osamu is standing at the forest’s edge.

You know he’s there even without opening your eyes, but when you eventually do, your sight immediately catches on the glint of the polished sword hilt at his waist.

He’s come armed today.

It’s noon on the day following his unceremonious arrival—the one where you had warned him, at risk of his own life, not ever to return. You know it’s noon, or very near to it, because the sun sits at its highest point in the clear midday sky as he emerges from the thicket of the wild, towering woods at the edge of your property.

For a moment upon seeing him, you wonder if you ought to flee—if you should seek shelter on the other side of the little rock wall you know he cannot cross. Instead, you hold your ground, still resting in the dirt of your garden—the knees of your twill pants stained with grass and soil, with grime caked beneath your fingernails.

You will not run from him.

He approaches you slowly, with careful steps as not to tread upon any one of your still-budding plants. You don’t bother watching him draw nearer.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve to come back.” You sink your spade into the earth at the base of a plant that’s showing signs of rot. Its your final task in the garden for the day: you plan to cut it out at the root, take it back into the greenhouse, and try and salvage at least a few slips for propagation.

Your only hope now is that any affliction hasn’t spread beneath the soil.

“I’m not here to prove my nerve,” he says to you, pausing a few paces away between a patch of rosemary and another of oregano. His voice is clear and sure like the blue sky overhead. “I’m here to help Atsumu.”

You place the uprooted plant into a small tin pail beside you, prodding into the soft edges of the hole you’ve dug to excavate it for any signs of further blight. You see none, thankfully.

But rot’s a tricky thing. Sometimes it's in plain sight, and others it hides where the light can't reach it.

“I don’t care why you’re here,” you tell him, setting aside your spade and meeting his eyes as you drag the back of your wrist against your perspiring brow. “And I don’t care about your brother.”

The knight looks worse than he had the day before when he showed up in your workshed, but you’re not surprised by that fact. He spent the night in the woods, that much you’re certain of—not least of all because the nearest village is too far for him to have travelled their and back by midday. His hair is unkempt, his clothing rumpled like it’s been slept in, and the shadows under his eyes are darker, more severe than they had been the night prior—though perhaps their stark contrast is just more evident in the light of day.

At his waist, Osamu’s hand rests lightly upon on the hilt of his sword, but it seems more instinctive than threatening given the way his fingers are slack. There’s a frustrated furrow in his brow that deepens in the wake of your words, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yer the only one who can help him.”

“No, I’m the only witch your king hasn’t culled,” you parry. “There’s a difference.”

Osamu’s lips pull into a thin line. “So you admit it.”

You blink.

You suppose this is the first time you’ve confirmed his accusation. The first time you’ve admitted to your truth. It wasn't so much a slip of the tongue as it was an inevitability.

“It does me little good to say anything otherwise,” you respond, unshaken by his observation. “You need me to be a witch. As you’ve made clear: your brother’s fate relies on it. The help you hope for me to provide to you is all that’s keeping that sword in its sheath.”

The knight’s fingers curl loosely around the hilt of his weapon at your mention of it, as though becoming conscious for the first time of its weight against his hip.

But it’s not strictly true, what you’ve said, and you both know it.

There’s one other option Osamu has available to him—one other cure to heal what ails his beloved brother—and it very much requires the use of his sword.

Witches have been driven to near extinction now—every coven you’ve ever known to inhabit this kingdom wiped out in their entirety—with little more to prove they ever existed but your own fleeting memory of them.

The only pieces of them worth saving were their hearts.

There’s a reason why witches have forever been hunted for them—a reason why the king’s knights would cleave them out before their bodies were burned. The hearts of your kind have long been coveted by men for the residual magic that they hold. Even when a witch dies, her heart will keep beating, though only for a short while, and to possess a witch’s heart while it still beats—however faintly—will bring luck to the one who possesses it. It can cure any ailment, or end any drought, or even turn the tides of a battle.

Those hearts and the promises that they assured were worth more to glory hungry men than the lives of the witches they rightfully belonged to.

You feel a white hot flash of anger roll through the pit of your stomach like a violent tide at the thought of it, digging your fingers deep into the soil below you to find comfort. You stare up at the man above you, no different from any of the rest of them, and your eyes narrow resentfully. You clutch dirt by the fistful.

“All the hearts the crown has ripped from witches over the past two hundred odd years, and to what end?” you ask him, disdain dripping thick and venomous from every word. “The fortune of a trophied heart is fleeting, their power fades with every passing beat until eventually the pulse stops altogether. Your king knew that, and he chose to pillage them regardless. That old bastard was born with the world in his hand, yet he hoarded those spoils for himself—wasted them—only to die, like all mortal men do, and leave the rest of you behind to suffer for it.”

“Hold yer tongue,” Osamu warns you sharply, his lip curling in time with his hand tightening on the hilt of his sword in a white-knuckled grip. “How dare ya speak ill of the late king.”

“Why defend a man who left his country in ruins?” you goad him further, twisting the knife you’ve managed to wedge between the plates of his composure’s already straining armour. “A man who stripped his kingdom of its greatest resource—of the lives dedicated to the keeping of this land—and left his infant son to take a throne he drove into the ground with his greed. A son I’m sure has grown into just as pitiful a ruler as his father.”

The knight’s sword glints in the sunlight as it’s quickly drawn. The sound of the finely honed blade scraping against the sheath is almost pleasant; surprisingly delicate in its own way, even in its violence.

You kneel beneath Osamu in the glare of the all-seeing sun, the point of his blade held level at your throat.

“Don’t say another word against King Shinsuke,” the man hisses, and much like the first time you mentioned his brother by name, it seems you’ve struck a tender nerve.

You don’t flinch, but your eyes do flicker down towards the garden beds.

A tense moment passes with his steady sword resting just beneath your chin.

“You’re stepping on my spearmint.”

Osamu’s gaze follows yours down to his feet in surprise, to where his left boot treads upon a small mint plant. He inches his foot back slightly, almost without thinking, after you point it out. Some of the outer leaves are bruised, but you’re fairly certain the plant will still survive.

A breeze rolls in from the east, rushing through the blades of grass and rows of plants until it lifts the sleeve of your shirt as it passes like a kiss from the sea. You find it comforting. Reassuring.

Osamu speaks again.

“I could just take it, y’know.”

You don’t need him to clarify what it he speaks of.

What’s strange to you isn't the threat he utters, but rather that the words were spoken so quietly they were very nearly lost in the passing breeze. Part of you can’t help but wonder if he knows he uttered them aloud at all, or if they were merely one final fervent encouragement to steel his own resolve. You look up at him, and see his eyes are burning with insistence—wild in their hopelessness.

His expression is grave, remorseful almost. “I’ve got no other choice.”

Ah.

The final fraying morality of a desperate man.

“Good luck,” you say to him. You still meet his gaze without flinching. His sword is still pointed at your throat. “You’ll have to find it first.”

Confusion flashes behind those frantic grey eyes, and then creeps in the horrified realization.

At the tree line in the distance, a raven takes off from the highest bough of an old oak tree with a piercing caw.

“I don’t believe you,” he says, but his voice is tight and unconvincing—almost like you can hear the bile creeping up his throat. You wonder if he’s saying it in hopes of persuading you or himself.

You lift your shoulders in a dispassionate shrug, reaching up towards the neckline of your blouse. “Would you like to check?”

It’s quiet for a moment as you wait for a reply you know will never come.

Behind the knight’s own rigid shoulders, the soaring raven swoops down into the treetops out of sight.

“You cut it out yourself,” he finally breathes, your finger pausing where it’s looped underneath your collar. His expression clearly conveys the disgust he feels at the very premise.

You drop your hand, swiping your dirty fingers on the thighs of your trousers in a lazy attempt to clean them.

“I thought I ought to beat a man like you to it.”

The knight before you looks like he might be physically ill, a sallow hue overtaking his skin that wasn’t there a moment prior. You’re not sure you entirely blame him for the revulsion, considering what he must be thinking—considering the vile things he must be picturing in his mind. The image of you harvesting your heart from the cavern of your chest; the idea of you holding it—beating and bloody and hot to the touch—in your own hand.

Your gaze hardens with renewed contempt.

“I watched my people be massacred for their hearts," you tell him. "I watched knights just like you drag them in front of crowds, tie them onto stakes, and burn them for a spectacle. An immolation that the king—the one whose precious memory you stand here and defend with that sword—presided over like a jubilee,” your voice threatens to waver, but you keep it even as you stand. Osamu’s blade follows you as you lift yourself up to your feet—but his wrist is limper now than it was when he first drew it. Weakened. You swallow back the bitter taste creeping up your throat. “If not for my mother, I would undoubtedly have been among those lost, and I swore to myself that if it was the last thing I did—the only thing I ever did—I would never let my own heart suffer the same fate.”

Osamu lowers his arm to his side, his blade withdrawn.

You meet each other, eye to eye, but there’s no doubt now who stands as victor.

“Kill me if you want to,—” you tell him, your tone indifferent to the very challenge you make on your own life.

From deep in the forest, you hear the raven’s caw once more—the shrill cry of a predator catching its prey. The knight’s head turns slightly towards the sound, just the subtlest tilt of his face in the direction, but yours doesn't.

Your eyes don’t leave his.

“—What’s one more dead witch atop the grave of hundreds?”

He considers you for a moment in silence, and then slowly he sheaths his lowered weapon.

He turns his back to you, and your eyes trace the broad lines of his shoulders as he retreats in the direction of the forest from whence he’d appeared.

“I will not help you, no matter how many times you seek me here. If your brother's days are numbered as you say, save your efforts and return to him.”

Osamu pauses, a few furrows away from you in the lush green of your garden.

He's unnervingly still for a moment, still facing towards the forest, but then he turns to you once more.

His eyes are supplicating—no trace of the anger or the malice they’d held moments before. His voice is soft when he speaks again.

“I’ll give ya anythin’ you ask in exchange for yer help. Anythin’.”

You laugh, but the sound is acerbic like the taste clinging to your tongue. The chill in your voice stands in stark juxtaposition to the gentle warmth of the early summer day surrounding you.

“There’s nothing on earth that you could give me that could ever make up for the things your kingdom took away.”

Osamu’s face falls, but he nods almost imperceptibly. It catches you by surprise, that seeming resignation—acceptance—to the only answer you offer him.

Wordlessly, the knight turns and continues towards the trees.

He doesn’t tread on any of your sprouting crops as he departs.

#osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #hq fic #hq writing #writing #tws

[anlian-aishang]

Tags: levi x reader, smut, humiliation, ejaculation, fem!reader Word count: 1100 A/N: PMS made me h-word, needed a self-indulgent outlet oneshot. Hope you enjoy, too <3

“So goddamn needy.”

You could not even try, did not even think to deny it. Lately, you had been nothing short of animalistic. A dire heat equivalent to the throes of July. No matter how much you tried to cool yourself off, methods ranging from cold showers to self-love sessions, nothing had truly squandered your flame. Hormones had a hold of your mind from the second you opened your eyes in the morning till the moment you closed them at night. 

How long had that lasted? 

And how long would it last?

Levi himself had not experienced the toll that such thirst could take on someone, but as your husband turned sex toy, he was able to intuit. 

Contortion: head over heels, your ankles knotted at the nape of his neck, propping yourself so that your g-spot and clit could be slammed simultaneously. Desparate: lips helplessly parted, pathetic screams overflowing past them. Weak: arms trembling in their attempt to hold him and keep him close. Yet ridiculous strength: fingernails dug deep into his shoulders, thighs clenched around his torso, Levi grit his teeth in resistance. Determined to satiate, he bit back the signs of his wear and disguised them best by projecting them onto you.

Silver eyes glared from above. Though you managed only a thin glance past your overstimulated squint, his gaze managed to pierce through you all the same. Deep chills in your veins as ice-cold words rained down, “What is that now, four?” Levi smirked, “And you’re still going, huh?”

The heat of embarrassment, but still no match to the one in your core. After this many, you yourself were losing sight of your goals. Detached yet encompassed by your sex. Levi’s length had ripped you to shreds, delightful shreds. His friction burned your walls, a welcome scar. You were soaked in unspeakable, indiscernible damp of sweat, precum, and arousal. In your haze, you could fathom only one remedy, and that was more of him. As your insides twitched with yearning, you relied on his member to fill that gap. Having exhausted your natural lubrication, surely, his seed would make you whole again. How could you go to sleep if you were still this horny? He has to fuck you senseless.

It seemed that point was nearing. Stumbling over an incoherent combination of his name, swears, and cries, Levi’s confidence swelled. His confidence, a direct correlation with your humiliation. Levi fisted his hand in your hair and leveraged his lips to your ear, “Do you even fucking hear yourself, brat?” A single chuckle, so near-silent, it made your head spin even faster. Did he just laugh? Or am I hearing things?

Levi spared you no time to ponder. Fingers snapped to your clit and rotated furiously. Your back arched steep as your nerves screamed, that rise cruelly bringing you even deeper into his touch. Levi snickered, unable to dilute his volume this time, “What would you do without me?”

His dirty talk and teasing had you believe that he was doing you favors, and of course - the solidity of his cock pounded the proof that he was happy to provide them. However, you did not recognize exactly how much he was enjoying this. Sure, he was helping you, but that did not mean he was deprived. So swallowed by your needs, you were ignorant of his pleasure. At this time of the month, you got so wet, and he found it fucking adorable that you never seemed to notice. Some coincidence that your energies had synchronized to the same stretch of every 28 days? Normally, you were so sharp, but physiology turned you dumb to the religiousness of your timing. You thought him some savior, a slave to your needs, yet it had not crossed your mind that the opposite could also be true. 

What would you do without me? His words reminded you - you needed him. They also blinded you - he needed you. In the same breath, Levi provided the one cure for your paralyzing heat, you provided him the one touch that would drain him dry. Your warm, wet walls were to die for. After hours of fucking you raw, dripping in sweat, each of his muscles pleading for reprieve, he knew that lethal figure of speech was no exaggeration. Love and lust - some days, one more than the other - drove you both to this point. Levi would spend his last ounce of energy, you would flirt with unconsciousness, for just one more orgasm. 

Fuck! Levi bit his lip hard, the metallic aura of blood a drop away, silencing his outcry. A familiar flood to his V, frenzy took the reins of the rocks of his hips. In that moment, he recognized: his fever had matched yours. His end was drawing near. Hours ago, he thought yours was too. Levi no longer had the liberty to edge you, to mock you. Suddenly, he had to beg you. In your mist, you heard an order. Levi tightened his tangle of your hair, yanking hard, forcing your eyes open and locking onto his. Growling, accelerating, “Cum. Cum for me.”

You snatched his wrist in your grip. Thumb inadvertently pressed on his strained tendons. Levi winced, his voice strictly monotone, yet inexplicably vulnerable, “Cum with me, princess.”

And finally, you could tell this would be the one. Fuck your left hand! Fuck that vibrator he bought you! How dare you try to replace him? His voice penetrated your thoughts. Don’t you know, baby? I’m your remedy.

In a symphony of your cries and his grunts, countless thoughts were communicated and shared. The first taste of a long-lost recipe. Stumbling upon a song you had forgotten about. Finding a keepsake you thought had disappeared forever. Every period brought unpredictable emotions, cramps, blood, and a debilitating sex drive, but they also brought this feeling. The reprieve on your face. The exertion on his. Breathlessness of your voice. Exhaustion in his. Deep flow of his searing cum, the seeping waterfall of yours. 

Coming to, despite the rampant nature of this sex, your tender ritual remained: eye contact promptly returned and met. Levi caressed your face. You cupped his head in your hand and brought him to the crevice of your chest. For a handful of moments, you deliberately caught your breaths. Finally, for the first time tonight, your standard self reincarnated. Pillow talk was coherent. You were able to loosen your thighs from their perpetual clench. Though you had a naked Levi Ackerman draped atop you, sex had been fucked to the back of your mind.

And how long would that last? 

Already, it threatened a comeback. He fucked you good, though. At least a few days, maybe not even until next month.

Levi knew better. Tomorrow morning at latest. 

// masterlist //

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi x you #levi ackerman x you #oneshot #smut #anlian writes #alias's #my writing #2023

[goldenempyrean]

Could you do one where both Wanda and Nat are sick and super clingy to reader and just want to cuddle

Clingy Cuddles And Warm Snuggles

〚 Notes - This req was so cute! I loved writing it! Hopefully you enjoy reading :D 〛

〚 Summary - You come home from a mission to find that the compound’s been swept with a cold, meaning its up to you to take care of your sick girlfriends.〛

〚 Wordcount - 1720 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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You sighed a deep exhale of relief as the warm air of the compound met your skin. You’d just spent a long weekend up in the chilly mountains of Canada on a solo-mission so it was safe to say you were more than thankful for the warmth. However, as you made your way inside the compound, you immediately noticed something was off. The place was actually quiet? 

That was something which almost never happened, there was always so form of background noise even if it was just the sounds of a distant conversation or the humming of background music. But no, it was almost silent. You shrugged and being naturally curious person that you were, you headed over the kitchen to both investigate and make yourself a snack. 

Luckily as you approached the kitchen you could hear faint sounds of life. The recognisable sizzle of something frying echoed down the halls. Opening the door, you were met with the sight of Clint as he stood over the cooker, making himself some bacon and eggs. The sound of the door closing announced your entrance and the Archer turned towards you, giving you a small smile. 

“Welcome back Y/N,” He came over and gave you a quick hug before pulling away to muffle a cough into his elbow, “How did everything go?” 

“It went alright, glad to be back though,” You replied as you grabbed yourself rummaged around the snack cupboard before settling on a bag of Doritos, “Where is everyone though? It's so dead in here, usually you can't get a break from the noise.” 

“Y’know I can make you some decent food if you’d like,” He smirked, nodding down towards your choice of snack, “and It’s been like this all weekend, Tony managed to spread around some sort of bug, and it's really knocked people out. This is the first time I’ve been up in a day or so” 

  “Really?” You raised an eyebrow; it definitely wasn’t like Clint to stay in bed. It wasn’t often that anyone at the compound got sick really but when they did, it always seemed to spread like wildfire, especially since you all lived in such close-contact with each other. 

“Yeah, it’s been rough. Even Rodgers is down, we had to explain that cold ‘remedies’ from the 40’s weren’t exactly scientifically accurate after he tried convincing us to ‘take a good ol’ fashioned bit of whiskey’ to feel better.” 

You let yourself chuckle at that, remembering how Steve first reacted to seeing a bottle of DayQuil.  

While you loved catching up with Clint, you couldn’t help but miss the presence of two very special people and you found yourself asking, “Have you seen Nat or Wanda anywhere?” 

Clint thought for a second, “I think they’re still up in their room, last I heard neither of them were feeling too good either so they’re probably still in bed trying to sleep this crap off.” 

“Both of them?” You asked, slightly taken aback. The pair of them never got sick often, Nat had a great immune system and whenever someone was sick Wanda was always the one to go round wiping down surfaces with anti-bacterial wipes, meaning neither of them got sick that often even if there was something going round. 

“Yeah, I don’t think Wanda’s excellent wet-wiping skills were enough to save her this time,” Clint sniffled lightheartly but he must’ve picked up on your anxious expression as he soon came over and gave your shoulder a quick squeeze, “I'm sure they’ll both be okay, go on, go and see them.” 

You nodded, sending him a grateful smile, “Thanks Clint, hope you enjoy your bacon!” You called as you left the kitchen, setting off in the direction of your room. 

It was only a quick walk to your room, as you approached the door you made sure to open it quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone inside. As light floods into the room the sight before you weren’t exactly what you were expecting. 

On one side of the bed is a bundle of blankets, the main duvet and many other blankets are all tightly huddled around a shivering auburn-haired woman, only the top of her head poking out from within. In juxtaposition to this, Natasha was laid next to her on the bare mattress wearing her favourite sports bra and one of your pairs of silk shorts. 

“Y/N?” Natasha mumbled as she lifted her head from the pillow. Her poor voice sounded so unbelievably hoarse. 

“Hi baby, a little birdie told me you weren’t feeling too well.” You sympathised as you let the bags you had been carrying fall to the floor. To your surprise Nat pulled herself up and out of the bed and shakily padded towards you. 

She’d almost reached you before swaying drastically, as she seemed to lose her balance. Luckily, you’d seen this coming and managed to catch her in your arms, wrapping one around her waist to support her closely, “Easy there, let’s get you back in bed sweetie.” 

“Mm thanks,” Natasha whispered, letting you guide her back to the bed, “It’s been a while since I was this sick. My body feels all weak.” 

“That bad, huh?” 

To answer your question, Wanda let out a wet cough and curled herself further into her ball of blankets, the sound of which led you to go back over to your bag and taking one of the water bottles you had stored in there before placing it on the nightstand next to her, “You okay in there sweetheart?” You spoke down into her hair, pressing a small kiss to the exposed part of her forehead. 

"Mmh, my body feels like it's been hit with a truck,” She sniffles as a shiver runs down her spine the feeling of your lips brush against her skin. Wanda tries to smile up at you, but there's so little strength left in her, she has trouble lifting her face from the blankets. 

“Hh’iiitshoo! ‘tschioo!” Hh-Hh’tshiew!” 

You looked over to see Nat sniffling thickly as she rubbed her nose against her wrist and judging from the overflowing trash can and empty tissue box next to her side of the bed, it becomes obvious that she’s going to need some more. 

“Bless Natty, you want me to get you some tissues?” You cooed, as you came to sit on the edge of the bed, brushing your hand down her cheeks to move back the loose strands of hair which had fallen infront of her face, not missing the heat which radiated from her, “You feel abit feverish sweetie, have you taken your temp’ recently? 

Natasha shook her head, “I took Wanda’s earlier, it was 38.6 but I haven't taken mine.”  

“Awh sweetie, that’s so amazing of you to take Wanda’s but just remember that you need to look after yourself too,” You smiled, as you kissed her warm cheek, “Settle back down and I’ll go find the thermometer.” 

“Hh-iishiew!” 

“Bless you! I’ll get you those tissues too.” 

Finding both items was easy, Nat had left the thermometer on the sink in your bathroom and a supply closet a little further down the hallway was always stocked with plenty of tissues. Coming back to the room, you placed the fresh tissue box in Natasha’s lap and shuffled up onto the bed, nesting yourself between the two women. You took Nat’s temperature first, mainly because she was the one clinging to your side and to no-one's surprise, she did have a fever. 

“Wands? I need you to come out of your little blanket bundle for me sweetheart.” You coaxed her, not wanting her brain to melt inside of her head. Even if she felt freezing, you were positively sure that she was running still a fever. 

Your suspicions were proven correct when she eventually wiggled herself free of the blankets to let you check her temp. Wanda coughed again as you helped her sit up, sneaking a hand down her shirt to rub small comforting circling along her back. 

“You should drink some of that water baby, it’ll help.” You soothed, Wanda took your advice and took careful sips of the water. Giving a tired yawn once she’d finished, she took the opportunity to lay herself over you, resting her head on your chest. 

“Comfy?” You smiled to yourself once she’d settled back down but you soon felt Nat cuddle further into your side, shuffling up so her head would rest alongside Wanda’s, the two women contently cuddling into you, craving your touch. 

“I missed you.” Wanda admitted  

"Missed you too, Wands" Your heartbeat quickening as the woman snuggles herself into your body. A small yawn escapes you as the two women lay in your arms. The bed creaked as you gently shifted your body, tucking in Natasha with a light arm around her shoulders, “I missed both of you.” 

Nat went to mumble something only both she and Wanda sneezed simultaneously instead, earning a small noise of amusement from the red-headed spy.

"Hh-hetschioo!"

"Eiiishiew!"

“Oh, bless you, bless you! Aw, my poor sweet girls, how on earth did you both get so sick, hm?” You sighed as Wanda sneezed down in her blankets again, and surprisingly she didn’t make a fuss when you reached across to grab a tissue to wipe her nose with, “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you feel so icky.” 

“Tony can't keep his gross germs to himself.” Natasha sniffled, vowing that once she was better, she’d be going over to his lab to lecture him about proper hygiene. 

“Well Tony should be very afraid then.” You smirked, knowing Natasha fully intended to give the man a piece of her mind once she felt well enough but for now, she was thankful that you were here to hold her 

“How about you two try and get some sleep, I bet that’d help a little.” You smiled, pressing soft kisses to their warm foreheads as they settled down. A comfortable silence settled around the three of them in the dimly lit bedroom. Their chests rise and fall with each breath as they drifted off to sleep.

Sure, you had tons of paperwork and a mission report that you should’ve been doing but that could wait. Being there to cuddle your sick girlfriends was the only true thing that mattered. 

#natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff x reader #sick!natasha romanoff x reader #sick!wanda maximoff x reader #WandaNat #sickfic #snzfic #whump #comfort #marvel sickfic #avengers sickfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic #marvel fluff #mcu #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #marvel