#the only heaven I’ll be sent to (is when I’m alone with you)

[hazelfoureyes]

⟢Alastor x Cupid FemReader Tasked with making a demon believe in true love or you can’t return to heaven, things immediately go off the rails when you hurt yourself and Alastor catches one of your most troubling arrows; Mania

˚₊ · »-♡→ Week 1 and Week 2

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 3 and Week 4 smut💦 (keep reading)

Alastor lets you leave the hotel! Together! For soup. Later, your plans to make Alastor lose his obsession backfire. But like, in a hot way so you’re not that mad about it. A+ for effort?

˚₊ · »-♡→Week 5, Week 6, Week 7, and Epilogue smut💦

「warnings/promises: smut, I once again misuse a fucking prayer in a sacrilegious way, soup, spoon feeding, Angel texts, so much cum, bondage, tentacles, just good ole fashion fucking in the radio station, not quite dubcon but Alastor doesn’t really listen, hell has twitter and lets be real it’s just normal twitter, giant Alastor, Horse Luci」

Minors DNI ♥️ 🧹lovingly

You finally managed to leave the hotel. It was of course with Alastor at your side, microphone pressing into the small of your back like a third arm. It was as if he worried you’d just turn around and run.

He opened every door, pulled out your chair, and when your left hand shook and dropped your food he took on the task of feeding you. It was embarrassing, to say the very least. The sinners in the restaurant staring, a brave few filming or typing furiously on their phones.

You got a buzz on your own cell, a gift from Angel when he realized Alastor wouldn’t let you speak with others alone. 

He texted a link to a post on some hell site, to a photo of you right then, at that exact moment, being spoon fed by the radio demon. You considered smashing your head into the table until you blacked out. If you got up and left would you make it back to the hotel before someone realized you weren’t a sinner? You were absolutely terrified of someone noticing you as heaven sent.

Heaven kicked? Heaven thrown. Yeah that one felt right.

“You need to eat. You can’t heal like this.” Alastor sounded concerned, but you fought the urge to care. 

He hadn’t apologized to Husk, but Husk did say Alastor seemed to avoid eye contact which was basically a gift to him. Alastor had come to your room to dress you the next day as he always did, neither of you mentioning the day before. The hall was magically pristine by the time you left.

A tiny sliver of you thought he felt embarrassed. But decades of experience told you that Mania didn’t afford embarrassment, the stricken couldn’t be truly manic if something like that was holding them back.

Maybe it had been such a shallow cut he hadn’t gotten the full punch of Mania?

Another attempt to feed yourself, slowly bringing your spoon to your mouth, “You know when I heal I am going to finish my task and leave, right?” 

An odd laugh, a non-existent tear wiped away, “Adorable. No. I promise you, that won’t happen.”

“Alastor.” You put the spoon down with a clink.

“I love when you say my name. May I offer you more reasons to hold it in your mouth?”

“Al-,” you groaned, “I can’t stay forever.”

He hummed, a show of pretending to think about what you said, “Wrong! You can. And I argue, you will.”

You tried again with the spoon, regretting soup. Your appetite had been shot for awhile and it seemed easy enough. Wrong. Again. There was a constant tremble to your hands since arriving. Perhaps experiencing pain for the first time was rattling your body so much that it couldn’t cope. “Why would I ever do that? This is literal hell.”

Alastor leaned over, taking the spoon from you with ease and bringing it to your mouth, “Because I’ll make you understand it’s where you belong. They didn’t appreciate you,” his grin widened, “Not like I do. Like I can, if you’d let me.”

Annoyed and flustered, you took the help to eat. “Thank you.” A spoonful, “How can you say that though? I’m the one and only Cupid.”

“Actually, no. You’re not. You are just the current incarnation. They’ll replace you.” 

You regretted telling him that. They could. Just replace you, that is. There was nothing stopping them. You stared into your soup, lips curling down.

“Don’t look so defeated. I’ll make you happy, for eternity.” 

Your eyes rolled. “When do you plan on starting that eternal happiness?”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, but you could see his hand slow, then become completely still. Had you wounded him?

He pivoted, “Doesn’t Cupid have wings?”

Another spoonful, “Of course.”

Alastor waited while you took a drink, determined to make you eat the entire bowl, “Where are they?”

A pause. Where were they? You hadn’t realized you couldn’t feel them. They weren’t everpresent, but their weight still sat between your shoulder blades at all times. Always. Normally. But now? 

“You don’t know? That’s troubling.” Alastor read your face with ease.

You shot him a look. Stop doing that. Stop replying to unspoken thoughts.

“Apologies.”

Another text before you could snap at him.

You slid the phone away from Alastor, face red. “Do you think, honestly, if you’re capable of it, that I’ll ever be able to go home?”

His hand came to your neck, running over your collarbone, “For the record, I’ve never once lied to you.” You rolled your eyes, fine, okay, “With your heavenly body, even as weakened as you have been here, I’d say just a few more weeks.”

You turned the phone face down.

“Good…that’s good. If you plan on winning me over, your countdown has started.” You pushed the soup away, appetite gone. The idea of never returning to heaven made you nauseous. He slid it back to you, face stern despite the smile he wore.

The walk home was quiet, your stomach full of unwanted soup.

No, not home. The hotel. 

He usually spoke a lot, clearly loving the sound of his own voice. His hand replaced the staff, settled on your back as he guided you. You could feel the warmth through your clothes. How could he be so hot and not be sweating? Another sinner thing?

The thought hadn’t left you by the time you came into view of the hotel gates. Maybe you had been replaced. How would you know? Maybe that was why your wings were gone. Surely there was some way to communicate from hell.

You found Lucifer as soon as you returned, unbothered by Alastor’s presence, “I need to speak to heaven.” 

Alastor was saying something but you had gotten quite good at tuning him out. Lucifer snapped back, the men quickly devolving into arguing again.

“Lucifer.” You said it with your chest. 

His apple topped cane whirled, a golden circle appearing with a crystal clear image of heaven’s glowing gates through its center.

A loud noise erupted behind you, a high pitched static wail, familiar tentacles flailed and a long shadow of a growing Alastor stretched across the wall. His back was bent into the lobby ceiling, perhaps three stories tall now.

The sounds of magic popping as Lucifer shapeshifted accented the sounds of horror with that of whimsy. You approached the portal, those black tendrils slithering around your ankles but you easily slipped out of them as their owner's energy was pulled to full demon Lucifer slamming into him.

Almost, you could see it. 

A monstrously large hand came down, shaking the hotel and knocking various objects off their perches in the lobby. Charlie and Vaggie, someone else you’d come to enjoy the company of, flew down the stairs.

The common area was filled with the sounds of yelling and breaking glass. You crawled over his hand as Alastor’s fingers curled around your body gingerly. He tried to pull you from the gateway but while he slowed, Lucifer now a flying horse kicking him in the face, your outstretched hand strained to enter the portal.

Your fingers grazed the doorway, the air around the lobby fizzing and warping as a desperate screech tore from Alastor’s wide and impossibly thin chest. The grip tightened around you. A static whine threatened to pop your eardrums.

As your fingertips pressed past the ring, they stopped. Something impenetrable and unseen between you and heaven. 

Alastor must have noticed it too, his grip loosening as you clamored on hand and knees to the portal. Your palm ran over the doorway, searching for a hole or seam to rip. Just under your skin was your home, bright and clean and painless. A tiny ‘no’ fell from your lips, smacking at the barrier with your open hand.

Alastor returned to his normal, still terrifying, height. Lucifer came forward, their fight losing motivation, his small hand on your shoulder as you sat on the hotel lobby floor. He closed the portal and apologized, “Sorry kid. Let’s try again when you finish that task, okay?”

Alastor’s arms went under your back and knees and lifted you off the ground. You didn’t resist or argue. Your eyes were unfocused, vision blurry with tears, as you were carried past the others. Vaggie looked ashamed, which was odd given she had more character than half the archangels could muster together between them.

There existed permissions for who could enter the heavenly realm, a list meticulously kept. They’d removed you from that roster. They’d locked the doors behind you.

You felt good. The final week of your first, and hopefully last, month in hell was marked with taking off your sling for the first time.

A good three day wallow in a metaphorical cave helped you emerge with renewed vigor. Of course they locked the gates behind you, otherwise you’d just go home. That made sense. That made sense.

That had to make sense. 

Deciding to take a risk and attempt to expedite your homecoming, you and Angel made plans. Like a teenager in a party movie you snuck out of the hotel when Alastor was asleep. Well, so you assumed. You weren’t really sure what he did behind closed doors.

Angel brought you somewhere he felt people would be receptive to discussing love and talking to angelic beings, and admittedly also very high. 

Sling off but still being as gentle as you could, you leaned across the small standing-only table to talk-shout with a rather cute aquatic demon. An eel? Or maybe some kind of water-fond lizard? It didn’t matter, his glasses were cute, both of you a little drunk,  and you quite good at saying the right things.

And all of the right things were said, and you felt maybe if nothing else you’d enjoy your first demonic lay, when the power shut off.

Everyone filed out, bummed and bothered to find most of the neighborhood shrouded in darkness.

Angel tapped your shoulder and pointed up the hill to the hotel, radio station a glow with a red light, “Ya know, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Nothing to do but to stare, you stayed quiet and angry while he flagged down a taxi knowing the trip would be fast without traffic lights, “Guess Daddy Dead Eyes is calling you back.” 

Anger grew and grew in your chest as you were charioted home.

Jesus, to the hotel. Stop doing that.

You burst into the radio station tower, Alastor barely reacting. Until, that is, you marched up to his desk.

Pinned before you could react, his body pressing into yours as your ass ran up onto the desk.

“Sneaking out like a child?” His voice was low, soft, unnatural. “Why do you intentionally torment me?” 

 “I have done,” you tried to move but only succeeded in rubbing your stomach against his crotch, “no such thing. You’re just possessed.”

He responded by pressing forward, no accident, as his eyes narrowed on you, “Correct. I am a man possessed.” When he rolled himself into you, an alcohol primed groan escaped your mouth. 

“I thought you didn’t care about those things,” your eyes flashed to his lap pushing into you and then back to his glare.

“You’re my exception that proves the rule. If you’re so desperate for attention there’s no need to leave the hotel to find it.” His smile was poisoned by the simmering anger in his eyes, “Dear.”

It was the alcohol and annoyance at losing a chance with glasses-man, Jake or Jark or something not worth a scrabble move, that made you sneer a reply, “Not yours. I am a divine creature, demon. Your body would just filthy me.” Nose up, feeling absolutely better than him in every sense, you pushed him off and left. 

That was easy. Wow. 

Proud of yourself, you made it to the elevator before you realized— illusions. Perhaps his illusion was the idea sex with you was worth the effort, more so than others. He said it himself before, he didn’t care for such things. Perhaps if you could show him it was as boring and unattractive as sex with anyone else could be, maybe you could shatter his mania with disappointment.

You pulled a u-turn and heel-toed right back into his station. Giving him no time to react this time, you climbed onto his chair and straddled him, “On second thought, try your worst. Let’s get it out of your system and move on.” You ground your hips down. He only smiled up at you, amused. Taking his hands you set them on your waist, giving him permission to handle you, “Claim me. Make everyone know I’m yours.” He didn’t move. You were starting to feel embarrassed, had he goaded you just to make you look stupid? He would.  But your kind invented the tension before sex between enemies, “If you can.”

That did it. His hair visibly stood on end, “It is not a matter of ability. It’s about-”

“If you can’t, that’s fine. No need to start lying to me now. But don’t say I never gave you the opportunity.” You smirked, hoping he enjoyed a taste of his own sardonic medicine, and lifted yourself off of him.

His hands came to life on your hips, helping you rise and then flipping you onto your stomach. Your arms pushed radio transmitters and various old timey fuckery away to make room for yourself.

Those talons slipped up the center of your bottoms and crooked into your underwear. Long and strong, his fingers felt you. “Is this a perk of a heavenly body or is this,” two fingers dipped into your already wet and relaxed entrance, “all for me?”

You fought the urge to respond with anything other than malice, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

In heaven no one needs preparation, no one needs lube or required stretching to keep things whole and fun. You would love to say that quality followed you down, but unfortunately, like perfect health and angelic wings, it had not. 

You decided to chalk it up to the alcohol. Always an easy excuse to offer yourself.

Alastor’s hands pulled away and up, finding the place just above the Rosie’s Emporium clothing tag and ripping the bottoms and underwear clean in half.

You bit into your hand to keep your excited shriek to yourself but unfortunately couldn’t stop your legs kicking up. His laugh echoed off the many windows. 

Why couldn’t he be worse at this? Why couldn’t Alastor be clumsy and meek and awkward at sex? No, the menace you’d gotten almost used to was confident and commanding, you felt yourself twitching in anticipation. People have a misconception that Cupid was a chaste and wholly emotional creature, which was false. First of all, Cupids varied based on the incarnation. Just like other heavenly creatures their personality was varied and unpredictable. 

Personally, you weren’t suited for the job. If you were honest. Why couldn’t your quiver just be full of Eros and Agape? Even of those two, sexual love was more your speed. Romance was fine and lovely but perhaps you’d gotten a little jaded. 

Luckily for you, fucking Cupid was something many winners had on their afterlife bucket lists and you rarely found yourself with an empty bed.

Your attention was stolen back, Alastor’s clawed hand grabbing at the flesh of your thighs, “Oops.”

Focus. Why were you doing this again? Your system was metabolizing the alcohol now, and with the air cooling off your exposed sex, everything was awash with lust. Did you want to diminish his mania or were you just horny?

Would it really be so bad to admit you were both?

Deep breath, you remembered. Boring. Banal. The plan was to be motionless and not provide him any satisfying sounds. Don’t touch him, don’t try to push back on him, no tricks or fancy shit. The sooner he was over this you could make someone trust in love and fuck off home. 

Seconds turned to a minute, your ass in the air as Alastor’s hands pawed at your skin. You wanted to ask what the hold up was, but you didn’t want to give away how much you were needing him to just fuck you already.

“Do you miss flying?”

You looked around, were you so drunk you missed an entire chunk of conversation while thinking about how to hide thirsting for his dick?

“Yes…?” True statement.

“Allow me to help with that.”

There was a moment you half expected to be chucked out the window, but almost worse than that, you heard him seat himself in the chair again before your body was picked up and off the desk. “Alastor! I don’t-,” Hands flailing, feet moving around the best they could, you struggled against the familiar tentacles he had command over. “I do not allow it!”

Your hands batted at them fruitlessly. One came under your knees and folded them to either side of your chest before wrapping around your waist twice, a second across your chest like a seatbelt snug and secure. Had you been on the floor you could almost be mistaken for taking a deeply devout praying stance. Only your arms were free to move, the position making you open and incapable of taking back any semblance of control. 

“Alastor!” Stretching, you could almost reach the edge of his work table, but your fingers and toes curled in as you were seated on something hot and stiff. Your lips quivered, desperate to keep silent as you were pulled down onto him. Reaching back your hands found his stomach, raking your nails across the skin in need of anything to grip. 

When you heard him chuckle to himself, you knew you were already losing. Plan backfiring entirely. You pulled your hands back to your center, taking ahold of the tentacle nestled between and across your chest. 

“Heavenly Father,” his voice was quiet but sure, your eyes so wide you worried you’d get stuck making a permanent face of utter shock and despair, “bless us and these thy gifts which we receive from thy bountiful goodness, through your name, our lord.” You were lifted off his lap, Alastor’s swollen tip dragging along your unstretched walls as he said the Lord's prayer, “Amen.” Pulled back down before the second syllable even reached your ears, you cut into your bottom lip as a scream bounced around behind your teeth.

Heathen.

“I would think you of all people knew how to finish a prayer.” Alastor chided, “What will heaven say?”

If heaven knew you were being impaled midair on an overlord’s cock, they’d create a second hell for you to rule. Population of none. Except maybe some horny nuns.

As he found a pace he seemed happy with, slow and long draws out of you, you realized how fucked you were. Looking down, you could see one of his hands was settled at the base of his cock, those long fingers draped down his balls. The other hand was unseen and unfelt. 

“Alastor.” You tried to sound stern.

“Oh I doubt heaven knows my name. Not yet at least.” He sounded unbothered, almost unaffected. “Not until I’ve spirited away their little angel of love.”

You were almost insulted at how easily he could speak despite being buried so far into your wet, hot cunt. Maybe you had been spoiled in heaven, people usually so turned on by the idea of you that they were coming undone as soon as you were wrapped around them or in them in whatever way you decided.  

A broken chant of “be bored, be bored,” in your mind as Alastor hummed, that mystery clawed hand falling at your back. Biting your lip, you tried to think about anything other than how full he was making you. Did the glasses man at the club have a cock as thick as Alastor’s? Would you have been as satisfied as you were now? Every down thrust made the tuft of fur at this base press against your ass. Soft. You wanted to grind against it, the idea pulling a wanton moan out.

Fuck. Failing to distract yourself because you got distracted. It was so hard to think about anything else than your body being pushed open again and again. The blood on your lips was sweet, licking them clean before finding a new spot to bite down on. Quiet.

“Ah, are you giving me the silent treatment?”

Could this son of a bitch read minds? Could sinners read minds?!

 If you didn’t reply, that was confirmation. But if you did reply, you were breaking your goal of not talking.

“Just…,” you took a deep sigh, knowing this was going to be rough, “I’m not really feeling like making any noise.” A shrug, the best you could manage at least while bound and held aloft in the space above his lap. Pretending this was normal and boring was a feat. “I’m not a vocal person during sex. I prefer to just lie there and get serviced. Don’t mind me.”

That sounded awful. Perfect. 

“Oh? Well then, I guess I’ll not worry myself.” You could hear the smile in his voice. Less perfect. He began to hum a little tune as your body, partially upright, was now being tilted forward at a 45 degree angle from his lap. His cock was bending in you, head pressing harshly up into your walls. 

Heart beating so fast you felt a dizzy spell hit you, that renewed anticipation almost as arousing as the sensations.

His humming continued like he was reading the paper. You’d never ridden a roller coaster, but you’d seen many people do it before and this was surely the same feeling; right at the peak before the drop. When the ride operator stills you and lets you stare down at the height before you. Your stomach was flipping, excitement tinged with fear. 

You were pulled off his dick until you felt the bell of his red tip get just outside your entrance. Was he going to pull out entirely?

No. He pulled you down by way of shadows and fucked you just a couple inches into your cunt. His head was dragging out past your tight hole and smashing back in, directly hitting your g-spot. The spongy bundle of nerve endings was dented with every thrust.

You weren’t used to having your entrance stimulated so much, the skin luckily becoming slick as your own wetness was fucked out of you. 

“That feels weird, please.” How quickly you gave up. “Stop pulling out like that.”

A considerate sigh, “But you’ve gotten so wet, my dear. You’re dripping down my thighs already. I don’t think you want me to stop.”

Could you cum like this? You felt like you could, maybe if you just…you quickened your breath, faster and faster. Your stomach heaving, you felt the crescendo of pleasure. 

“On second thought!” He stopped.

Your toes wiggled, hands gripping the tentacle on your chest. Quiet. Shh. Don’t argue. Boring. Don’t care. The building orgasm waned, you felt your blood pressure lower. This really was hell. 

Alastor’s head was just sitting in you, burning hot and throbbing. You were sure you could feel his heartbeat. 

You two were locked in a standoff. Someone had to let on they were enjoying themselves; Alastor releasing pent up frustration with your attitude toward his affections, you chasing down a rare penetration-only orgasm. 

An idea struck you, a way to hopefully antagonize him and bruise his pride enough to force him into your hand (pussy), “Thank God. I think it’s almost my bedtime.”

Alastor’s smile strained, a twitch coming over his left eye. A trap. But the idea of letting you down and off of him seemed far worse than the small defeat you were offering. “Allow me to rock you to sleep then, sweetheart.”

Success! Shit! 

You reached out, the angle of your punishment allowing you to grab the edge of the table and grip. Alastor’s annoyance translated to an inhuman pace, him pulling you off entirely from his cock before bringing you back down. He was positively slipping in and out of you, your lower lips puffy and soaked around him. This degree of wetness was something you couldn’t remember feeling outside of marathon sessions. 

When your hands tightened, a shock of pain tore down your arm, a scream bringing Alastor to a sudden stop. “My collar…” Pain was apparently not a kink you enjoyed, though you briefly wondered if heaven allowed it at all. 

You couldn’t even fuck properly. You couldn’t do anything right. All you managed to do was fail. A sting to your eyes as the air hit your welling tears. Did humans feel this pain often? Your body was righted and turned, you looked down to Alastor’s face as you were brought to him. He looked so soft, usual smirk a sweet toothless smile, “I told you to keep the sling on, didn’t I?” He looked happy.

Your arms found his shoulders and your head came to his chest, “Shut up and finish already.” He didn’t release you from the binding, instead pulling the right arm under the hold of his slender tendril to keep it safe and out of the way.  His hands were both at the base of his cock while you were gently riding him. Well, “you”. He was still using his powers to manipulate your body on and off of him. Alastor’s fingers were spreading your arousal down his shaft and along his tightening balls, if you had looked at his face you’d have seen a weakened man there, furrowed brows and lust drunk eyes. But you didn’t look, trying to hide the same expression on your own features. 

Left hand free, no need to hold yourself up, you made lazy, and you hoped subtle, circles around your clit. You weren’t sure if this was a total failure or not, but you could finish and say something good came of it. You, specifically. 

Things were quiet, though. The loudest sound in the room was the wet pop coming from where his body was meeting your sopping hole. His breathing was fast and soft, sighing when he bottomed out. Another bite to your lip, a few more deep hits to your cervix, and you enjoyed a small but satisfying release. The hand on you stayed through, riding out tiny waves of pleasure as you twitched around him. When you felt his release you sighed, you did it. You think. Maybe. Regardless. 

As he slowly lifted you, you considered if your legs could hold you—

Up you went and back down you fell as he took a new, quicker pace.

“A-Ah-lastor?! You,” you bit your tongue, “already finished?”

You had made a mistake earlier that you hadn’t even realized. But Alastor had been holding it between his sharp teeth, “How many times?”

Absolutely no idea what he was talking about, you gasped out a reply, “What!?”

“How many times should I fill you before you’re too filthy to return to heaven, do you think?” He couldn’t be serious. “Three? Five? You see, the advantage of using my tentacles is that I don't get tired.”

Oh, but he was serious. 

The battle was entirely forfeit somewhere around the third time he flooded you with his seed.

“These aren’t the usual screams I enjoy from my studio, but I’m not averse to them.”

 When he felt you’d learned whatever lesson you were supposed to be taking in by the pump full, you were finally removed from him. He covered your lower half with his coat around your waist. It would be lying to say you were surprised to find his wide shoulders and small waist wasn’t just an illusion of his well tailored, yet oddly torn, coat. He was annoyingly attractive. Who gave him the right?

Your legs gave out when you tried to stand, warm hands pulling under your armpits to get you back on your feet. As much as you wanted to push him away, you were still a little tipsy and your legs still getting used to full blood flow. His arm held out for you to use for stability, you took it and wobbled silently to the floor you both lived on. Before you left the elevator you looked down and saw a line of white dripping down your inner leg. Took longer than you expected, honestly. 

When you turned to the right to go to your door, his arm came around your waist and shepherded you to his room on the left. You shot him a look, asking what he thought he was doing. 

He laughed, “Oh, after tonight’s little escapade, you’re moving!” He opened his door and gestured for you to enter, “Welcome home, my dear.”

What was worse than a failure? A catastrophe? This was that. 

“Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up.” A hand patted softly at your ass before ushering you inside.

He did just that, wiping you down and undressing you before settling you into his bed. Exhausted and sore, you decided to argue after sleep.

When you awoke, you checked your shredded bottoms for your phone. Nothing. 

An answer was found when you mentioned it to Alastor, who asked what you were searching for so early in the morning, “Perhaps someone at that venue you enjoyed has it? Too bad you can’t go back and ask.” He was resting his back against the headboard, you realized he’d unbuttoned his shirt quite a bit. “Oh well!”

How was he always making you scream?

ᡣ𐭩ˋ°•*⁀➷ masterlist

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult (general tag list):

@cxrsedwxrlds , @nonetheartist , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @pansexual-opera-house , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum ,

@ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1 , @simphornies , @alleystore , @readergirlstuff , @berry-demon , @chirimeimei , @fairyv-ice , @olive-frog , @thonethatflies620 , @tiredkiwiii , @ilikemyteawithmilk , @whateverlololo , @psipies , @howabouticallyou , @roxxie-wolf , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @fizzled-phoenix , @fjorjestertealeaf , @phobophobular , @surusurusuru , @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 , @whateverlololo , @simplyonehellofanotaku , @xixflower , @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it , @roxxie-wolf , @a-case-of-attachment , @multifandomfanatic02 , @watereddownmilk , @raynerrold , @crazii-saber-wolf , @valkyrie-expeditions , @bontensbabygirl , @sillyb0nez , @oo0lady-mad0oo , @jazzmasternot , @pseudobun , @fraugwinska✨, @alitaar , @straows , @alastorssimp , @angelicwillows , @b-o-n-e-daddy , @one-and-only-tay , @asleeponelmstreet , @tremendoushearttaco , @mutifandomkid , @sapphirecaelis , @itzzzkiramylove  @saccharine-nectarine , @viannasthings , @looking1016 , @ultimate-duck-king-lucifer , @blakeaha , @astraechos , @reath-solia ,

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

@faeoffaith , sailorsmouth , @jeannyjaykaydeh , @jyoongim , @cosmic-lavender , @saturn-alone , @lustylita , @radio-darling , @kaylopolis , @dickmastersworld , @leviskittywh0re

@asianfrustration13 @alittletiredcry @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp

#alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x you #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #smut

[rory-cakes]

A Buck and A Canary

What was she doing here?

Why was she smiling at him like nothing happened?

He left their child alone!

He let her die!

He lied to her!

It has been one week since the battle at the Habin Hotel. They were starting to finish the reconstruction of the hotel when something strange happened. An angel appeared. 

“Hello! My name is Y/n Altruist, and the higher-ups of heaven have sent me to oversee the progress of the hotel!” 

“THEY CHANGED THEIR MINDS!?” Charlie was practically vibrating with joy. 

“Why?” Vaggie asked skeptically. 

“Well, unlike before, we have proof that your hotel works! A certain serpent has shown up in heaven!”

“Sir Penitouse is alive!” everyone was filled with overwhelming joy. 

“Also”

Y/n bowed in respect. 

“I deeply apologize for the exterminations. They were never supposed to happen. Sera and Adam were working alone in that sense.” 

Charlie grabbed her hand and helped her back up. 

“So really, no one knew? How is that possible?”

“The seven virtues are the only defense against evil on Earth so they have their hands full with that, I’m afraid. I was at the meeting and I brought up the issue as soon as I could!”

“Why do you care so much about what happens to us? No offense, we’re really grateful you did what you did! But why?”

“Well, I'm afraid my answer is a little selfish. My husband is down here. He wasn’t a good man but he was a good husband and he would have been a good father hadn’t he died.”

How did an angel like her end up with someone down here?

Wait-

An angel like her?

“Im sorry, but what is your husband’s na-”

“Birdy?”

“Alastor?”

Alastor sat uncomfortably on the plush couch in his room. Y/n sat equally as uncomfortable in a chair of a similar design. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. 

Alastor avoided making eye contact with his wife. I mean she had to know who he truly was at this point. How could she not?

“Alastor.”

She breaks the silence. 

“I’ve missed you dearly, my darling.”

Why was she smiling?

“I know what you did, and while I can’t say I’m pleased, that doesn’t change the fact that you are my husband.”

What?

“You cherished and loved me for so many years. You took care of me and Eudora. You loved me with everything you had.”

This isn’t right.

“So, if you haven’t stopped loving me in the time we’ve been apart,”

No

“I’d like to be your wife still.”

Alastor finally looked at his ethereal wife. She was so good. She shouldn’t be corrupted by his darkness. 

“I left her alone.”

“So did I.”

Y/n smiled at the man in front of her. This was her Alastor. This was the man she fell in love with. Sure, there were blazing red flags and she should probably be running for the hills. However, she can’t deny the urge to be with him. 

“I’ve been watching over her.”

“You have? How is she?”

“She’s lived a long life. She’s been married to her wife for about 40 years now. She adopted three kids and has a bunch of grandkids. She had her own radio show, Al!”

“She did?”

“She did.”

Y/n moves to sit beside him and grabs his hand with both of hers. Alastor finally pulls her closer,

“You deserve so much more than I am. I cursed you in life I can’t let you get hurt again.”

“You are all that I want, and if I get cursed because of it, that will have been my decision.”

She places her hand on his face, and he leans into it. 

“My darling Alastor, there is nothing you can do for me to stop loving you.”

“Alright, Birdy, I’ll have you for as long as you wish to stay.”

And so the Buck was reunited with his Canary.  

A/N: Hi! I hope you liked the last part of Alastor's Birdy! If you have scenarios you would like me to write with this au, just send me an ask and ill get to it as soon as I can!

Taglist: @crazed-flower, @nanamunath, @preferably-fictional, @eccedentesiast-sapphic, @leximus98, @cupidsgift, @mag-chan, @stygianoir, @thereeallink, @yelloeukulele, @mariaclarade-la-cruz1, blurpleuni-squid, @galaxywing-has-adhd, @just-here-reading, @deez-nuts0, @strawberry-gothic, @purplerose291,@1-800-mocha, @trashbin-nie, @queenmizuki, @nkirukaj @bennythebitch @otherthoughtsofbu, @fantasycantasy, @hunnybee11626, @notally-tormal, @valerie-36, @lovingyeet, @holographicage, @har-har-harvey, @i-love-jafar, @cupidsgift, @meow-meowo, @theblueslytherin, @deadt3tinside, @lyralibra, @the-unhinged-raccoon, @avitute, @alastorswifeee, @stygianoir, @sideshow-b0b, @deadlymouse123, @mysingularitybts, @emotionalfangirl2002, @t0xic1vi, @goodlittlepup, @starsatmyhome, @wendds, @reader3, @redfoxgotlost, @hurthermore, @frostychurro @isa-dragon

#hazbin hotel #x reader #x reader fic #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor altruist #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor #rory writes #alastor x angel!reader

[emmcfrxst]

the only heaven i’ll be sent to (is when i’m alone with you); arthur morgan x reader

word count: 2K

warnings: smut!, afab!reader, religious themes (kinda. a bitch loves blasphemy<3), oral (f!receiving), body worship (arthur worships the ground you walk on), multiple orgasms (again, f!receiving), expressively asking for consent because that’s sexy! also yes the title is a hozier reference! feedback is appreciated as always <333

!!!!!MINORS DNI!!!!!

The wind blows softly over the half-closed lapels of the tent you and Arthur had set up somewhere around Dewberry Creek, your old, rusted lantern creaking as it sways with the night breeze. The flickering light does not seem to bother your companion, however, as he flattens his tongue over the seam of your cunt, moaning greedily into you. Arthur’s eyes flutter closed in ecstasy as your fingers tangle in his hair, giving the honey brown strands a sharp tug when he delivers a particularly hard suck to your pulsing clit. Your legs close around his head instinctively, trapping him between your thighs, tense muscles flexing against the sides of his face. A soft, breathy apology leaves your swollen lips, the pressure disappearing soon after as your lover pins your body down with calloused hands, brushing off your apology with a chuckle against your skin. You do not have anything to apologize for; Arthur Morgan, a man who has escaped death more than once, would gladly let himself be smothered by your cunt if it came to it. What a way to go that would be, he thinks. The closest to heaven’s gates he will ever get. And although Arthur isn’t a man of religion, he is more than willing to spend every day and every night praying at the altar that is your body, worshipping every inch of you with his eyes, his lips, his hands. Every kiss, every mark you leave on his skin is a holy reminder of the love shared between the two of you; of the passionate nights where Arthur can forget all about his sins and fully allow himself to be bathed in the sacred light of your affections.

“There you go, beautiful. Come back to me.” he coos at you, pushing hair out of your teary eyes, a tender grin on his face. His thumb gently runs under your eyes, wiping away the moisture there as you come back to your senses, focusing on his form above you. The sight of him is like a punch to the gut; blue irises swallowed up by fully dilated pupils, lips swollen and shining with the evidence of your previous orgasms, his beard is soaked through and his breathing ragged. You let your eyes wander down to where his bulge is straining against his union suit, biting your lip. The effect is immediate— his cock twitches under your sultry gaze, a soft groan leaving your lover’s throat.

“Stop lookin’ at me like that.” Arthur warns lowly, calloused hands running over the bare skin of your thigh. You giggle, lifting yourself up to brush your lips against his, your hand running down his chest, feeling his muscles flex under your touch.

“Like what?” You ask innocently, the teasing curve of your smile betraying your oblivious act. Arthur glares at you playfully, hand coming down to squeeze your inner thigh.

“Like ye wanna do real bad things t’me.” He mutters, voice raspier than usual, dripping with arousal. Suppressing a grin, you sit up, letting your hands slide all the way down to cup him through his clothes, thumb gently pressing against the wet spot on his underwear. A sick sort of satisfaction fills you at Arthur’s reaction —pretty blue eyes fluttering closed, his lips part in a strangled moan, hips jutting forward, seeking more pressure. You allow him a few moments to bask in your touch, swirling your thumb around his tip through the fabric and cupping his balls, before taking your hands off of him, leaving him breathing heavily.

“Maybe I do wanna do real bad things to you, Mr Morgan.” you whisper against his neck, leaving open mouthed kisses over his pulse point. A satisfied little giggle leaves you when you hear him cursing under his breath, hips bucking upwards of their own volition. Your victory is short lived, however, as your lover pinches your clit in retaliation, making you cry out. Satisfied, a smug grin on his face, he finally bares himself to you, making your breath hitch. It isn’t the first time you see Arthur in all of his glory —far from it, really, but the sight of how strong, how capable he is always manages to steal the breath right from your lungs. Freckles adorn the robust planes of his shoulders, ascending all the way across the broadness of a back toned from years of hard work; a petite waist and powerful hips curve out into muscled thighs and chiseled calves— Arthur Morgan is truly a sight to behold. He flushes under your heated stare but says nothing —how wise of him, you think, for he knows by now that you would never allow him to look down on himself, not even under the pretense of a joke. You deserve better than the way you treat yourself, you’d told him a million times. And you’ll spend the rest of your life proving it— that he’s worth it, be it through words, comfort, actions or through the passionate entangling of your bodies and souls. Because sex is more than just that to the two of you; it is a way of communicating the love and the needs you have for one another— Arthur, so painstakingly touch starved before you came along, now revels in the physical familiarity you two share. From fleeting touches to lingering kisses, he simply cannot seem to get enough of you; he does not believe the longing in his heart could ever be quelled completely.

Trembling gasps leave the two of you as Arthur slides his cock between your folds, coating himself in your slick. Jolts of pleasure thrum through your body every time his tip bumps against your swollen clit, your soft cries of pleasure causing Arthur’s cock to twitch.

“Sweetheart, if you keep makin’ all them pretty noises it’s gonna be over b’fore it even starts.” His accent is thick and his voice is shaky, excited little tremors running through his body at your state of undoing —all because of him. He’s made a real mess out of the two of you; drenched, sweaty and needy — thick strips of your wetness clinging to Arthur’s lower abdomen, precum pearling over the tip of his cock and gliding down his length; yes, your lover is more than willing to drown himself in your shared desire, to indulge in the carnality of your bound. Wrapping a hand around himself, he groans behind clenched teeth, sensitive to the touch, fingers quickly getting wet from how thoroughly turned on he is. He, however, remains unashamed, having accepted long ago that he will never be in control when it comes to you —he has never felt so connected with another human being, be it physically, psychologically, mentally or emotionally and he no longer bothers trying to hide the way you make him feel.

Understood. Respected. Appreciated. Loved. Alive. He’d never felt so many emotions prior to meeting you. Had never felt so alive; had never wanted to keep going as much as he has since you walked into his life. You make it worth it.

Letting his lips brush along your brow line, Arthur curls the fingers of his free hand around one of your thighs, spreading you open for him.

“Ye still good? D’ye want me to stop?” He asks, blue eyes roaming over your bare form with tenderness, trying to assess the situation. Even with you soft, pliant and soaked underneath him, Arthur Morgan would never dare to make assumptions about your desires, would never be so single-minded as to claim you without expressed consent from your part. He needs to know you want this as much as he does, wants this to be good for you— he thrives on your pleasure and your pleasure alone; can only feel good if you are. It is one of the many reasons why you love him so deeply, but in your lusting daze, you find yourself too strung up to fully appreciate it.

“Arthur Morgan, if you stop now m’gonna kick your sorry ass—oh!” Your voice breaks off into a pitiful little whimper when his cock teases your entrance, a low, rumbling laugh leaving him.

“As you wish, m’lady.” He allows himself to be playful for a few moments longer, basking in the frustrated little furrow of your brows and your pouting lips before pushing inside in one smooth glide, aided by your shared arousal. Arthur curses under his breath as your cunt flutters around him, trying to adjust to his girth. The blunt ends of your nails leave crescent marks onto the broadness of his shoulders and Arthur clenches his jaw, doing his best to stay still and allow you a moment of reprieve from the sensations that overtake your body. Busying himself with leaving marks onto your skin, he soothes the spots where his teeth have dug into, lips moving feom your neck to your chest to take a nipple into his mouth. The loud, broken mewl you let out at the action makes him shiver, goosebumps spreading all over his skin at the sound, but he continues to stay still, waiting for you to give him the permission to go on. It’s only when your legs wrap around his waist that he does finally let himself move, pulling himself almost all the way out before sliding back in with a quick snap of his hips. Another cry leaves your lips at the action, although this time sounding strangled, your cunt clenching around your lover’s cock at the delicious friction he provides you with. Your foot presses into the meat of his ass, encouraging him to go faster, deeper— a silent demand he is quick to indulge in. A series of loud, wet noises begin resounding around the two of you, only motivating Arthur on to thrust harder; your back arching up into him when he starts battering that one spot inside of you, rough fingers coming down to rub circles onto your clit. The moans pour freely from your mouth and into his as he kisses you, tongues tangling together in a messy, sloppy fight for dominance. You’re vaguely aware of the spit trickling down your chin but are far too gone to care; the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter with every powerful snap of Arthur’s hips into yours. Already sensitive from your previous orgasms, you rake your nails down his back, trying to warn your lover of your impending climax. Alas, gargling moans are the only thing you can manage before you finally snap; vision going white, body going rigid under his, you repeat his name like a prayer as waves after waves of pleasure wash over you. Arthur isn’t far behind you, spurred on by your own release, a long, incredibly deep moan rumbling through his chest before he pulls out of you, sticky cum splattering across your stomach. Coming down from your high, you tuck a few strands of hair behind Arthur’s ears, fingers lingering on his face lovingly. He leans into your touch immediately, turning his head to press a gentle kiss into your palm, his body trembling with the aftermath of his own orgasm.

“Was…” He clears his throat, rolling off of you and pulling you along to rest on his chest. “Was that good f’r ya?” The gravelly tone of his voice cannot conceal the genuineness of his question, his fingers running down the length of your spine. It makes you smile— he makes you smile, your sweet cowboy. Shifting to look at him, you kiss him right over his heart, fondness warming your features.

“It was. It always is, with you. I love you.” And despite it not being the first time you utter those words— far from it, really— emotion still takes over Arthur’s heart and features, eyes shining with a sheen of tears.

Love. You love him.

No, Arthur Morgan may not be a religious man, and he remains unconvinced of God’s existence, but he does know one thing; you are his little piece of heaven on Earth.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fic #rdr2 fic #rdr2 smut #rdr2 imagine #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption 2 fic #red dead redemption 2 smut #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

[cheekylittlepupp]

The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you

#astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion screenshots #mims posts ~ #bg3 astarion #baldurs gate 3 #oc: mira #astarion x tav #astarion romance #baldurs gate astarion #he’s uh he’s laying on a pillow. #this man will be the death of me #tumblr didn't like the actual tame ones i don't get it anymore #I swear guys I’ll be back to posting only Astarion soon 😔 very soon…tomorrow

[tomriddleslove]

Repent.

✩ Tom Riddle x F! Reader

Summary: The one where Tom is confronted by the golden girl of Hogwarts, and he confronts a rather ugly truth. Hatred and desire are very similar things, and Tom can’t tell which one he feels. Alternatively: As Hosier once said “The only Heaven i’ll be sent to, is when i’m alone with you.”

A/N: GRRR WOOF WOOF WOOF

Maybe smut in p2 if people want it?

Songs: Talk - Hozier

The elder Riddle boy found it ridiculous to think he’d be standing here, promoting the very school he had subjected to many terrors, schmoozing with the same snobby, stuck-up wizards and witches for hours on end. His mouth ached from being held in a permanent welcoming smile, and the corners of his lips turned upwards in an uncharacteristic manner.

The role of Head Boy came with countless benefits. For one, he was adored and respected by many, something that was absolutely vital to Tom. Similarly, it also helped preserve his image greatly. No one would question Tom if he was roaming the halls late at night, for he was simply upholding his duties. It became an excellent cover for his now frequent trips to the restricted section of the Library.

There were other less beneficial but still preferable upsides. He got his own room, as the Head boy and the Head girl got their own private quarters. He could be excused from meaningless activities such as the mandatory health education days, if he convinced Headmaster Dippet that his time would be better spent elsewhere. Truthfully, there weren't many negatives to being Head Boy.

Having to spend his valuable holiday time dressed in a rather suffocating suit, promoting Hogwarts as one of the best schools to new prospective parents, was not a part of his role that Tom enjoyed. But if this is the small inconvenience he would have to put up with twice in his one year as Head student, then so be it.

There was, of course, you. That was perhaps the worst part of the job. Having to work alongside you. Tom loathed you, more than he did the average person.

You pranced into the school, having only joined in the 6th year. Within a week of your arrival, the teachers could not stop raving about the prodigy that they had the pleasure of teaching. Your hand shot up before Tom’s, and your marks were almost always higher by 1 damned percent. It wasn’t just enough that you had stolen Tom’s spotlight, no, you made sure you were front and centre in every field. Tom excelled in academics, you excelled in everything. From sports to extracurriculars, no one stood a chance if you were there.

But perhaps what infuriated Tom the most, was that you were nice. People adored you, and you naturally managed to captivate everyone with a sort of charisma that had teachers and students alike stumbling over one another for the chance to speak with you. You had it all, with absolutely no flaws.

Tom didn’t have a valid reason to hate you. With the others, he could attribute his hatred to their foolishness, their stupidity, or their overall incompetence. But you? There was nothing. It was irrational to hate you - the golden girl of Hogwarts, and that was what infuriated him more. It betrayed every rule he held himself to; he always had to be logical and meticulous.

Tom seethed inwardly as he watched you effortlessly charm yet another set of parents, your smile radiant and your words smooth as silk. He couldn't deny your talent or your intelligence, but it grated on him nonetheless. You were a constant reminder of everything he wanted to be but couldn't quite attain.

It wasn't just the fact that you outshone him in every aspect; it was the way you did it with such ease, as if it were effortless for you to excel in every endeavour. Meanwhile, Tom had to meticulously plan and scheme for every bit of recognition he received, always calculating his next move to stay ahead.

His eyes rake down your form, taking in the deep red dress that you wore. No doubt the finest silk draped over your body, a sort of blood red that caught under the dim lights of the chandeliers. Drawing the eye and commanding attention wherever you went, the fabric flowed gracefully around your figure, accentuating your curves in all the right places without revealing too much.

You were undeniably stunning, yet another thing to add to a list of your perfections. You handled the disgustingly leering eyes of the elder Wizards, who came to talk to you, with grace.

A damned Gryffindor too, as though your very presence wasn’t offensive enough.

Gods, he hated you. He really did. Your mere presence was enough to set him on edge, a fire burning through his veins that could never seem to be quenched no matter how hard he tried. He runs a hand through his lightly gelled hair, walking over to the far side of the Great Hall. With the rest of the attendees being otherwise engaged in conversation, he grabs a glass of champagne, knuckles white as he grips the delicate glass stem and drains it in one go. He sets the glass back down and sighs before plastering a fake smile on his face, manoeuvring through the crowd.

As Headmaster Dippet ascended the small stage at the front of the great hall, a hush fell over the crowd. He cleared his throat, adjusting his spectacles before addressing the gathered guests.

"Good evening, esteemed colleagues, parents, and students," he began, his voice carrying easily across the room. "I would like to extend a warm welcome to each and every one of you to our annual open evening here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The assembled guests murmured their acknowledgements, and Headmaster Dippet continued, his tone warm and welcoming.

"We are delighted to have the opportunity to showcase the many wonders of our esteemed institution to you all," he said, gesturing expansively to the grand surroundings of the great hall. "From our esteemed faculty to our talented students, Hogwarts prides itself on providing a world-class education in the magical arts."

A ripple of polite applause echoed through the hall, and Headmaster Dippet smiled warmly before continuing.

"I would like to take this opportunity to express my deepest gratitude to all of our dedicated staff and volunteers who have worked tirelessly to make this evening possible," he said, his gaze sweeping over the assembled crowd. "Their commitment and dedication to our beloved school are truly commendable, and we owe them a debt of gratitude for their efforts."

Another round of applause filled the air, and Headmaster Dippet nodded in appreciation before raising his hand for silence once more.

"And now, my dear guests, I invite you to partake in the festivities," he said, his tone lighthearted. "Our talented orchestra awaits to serenade you with their delightful melodies, and I encourage you to take to the dance floor and enjoy the evening's entertainment to the fullest."

With a final smile and a gracious bow, Headmaster Dippet stepped down from the stage, leaving the guests to mingle and enjoy the rest of the evening's festivities.

You look over at Tom and find he’s already looking at you, a shift in his gaze when you lock eyes with him. You see him sigh, and motion to the large area of floor which had been dedicated to dancing. The very face of the school, the two of you step up, and dark green clashes with deep red, the serpent and the lion front and centre. Your hand finds his, cold and unwelcoming, and his other comes down to rest on your waist, fingers brushing against silk.

The melodic hum of the violins echo through the hall, watchful eyes on the two of you. Your steps were hesitant at first. Gradually, as you found your footing, your movements became more fluid, if not entirely harmonious.

“Smile, Riddle. At least make it seem like you’re happy to be here.” You mutter lowly, only for his ears. He clenches his jaw, but ultimately he knows you are, as always, right. A small smile graces his lips, looking down at you as he speaks harshly under his breath.

“I’m not happy to be here.” He snaps, and a smirk tugs at your lips as the two of you continue dancing, harshly whispering to one another.

Tom's eyes bore into yours with a fierce intensity, his jaw clenched in barely restrained anger. Yet, despite the tension that simmered between you, you refused to back down, meeting his gaze with a lazy smirk of your own.

"Is that so, Riddle?" you retorted, your voice barely above a whisper but laced with undeniable challenge. "Because it seems to me like you're doing a splendid job of pretending." You quip sarcastically.

His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress with a forceful urgency that sent a shiver down your spine.

Tom's lips curled into a sneer, his voice dripping with venom as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You think you're so clever, don't you?" he hissed, each word punctuated by a sharp edge of contempt. "But you can't hide your true nature forever, no matter how hard you try. I'm just waiting for the day that perfect facade of yours crumbles.”

Your smirk only widened at his words, a glint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you leaned back slightly, meeting his intense gaze with a challenging one of your own.

"Ah, but dear Tom," you countered, your voice silky smooth despite the tension crackling between you. "I don't need to hide anything. Unlike some people, I don't have dark secrets."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear.

You simply chuckled, a sound filled with smug satisfaction as you leaned in to whisper your reply. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, Riddle," you murmured, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "After all, it's not like your plans are a well-kept secret."

For a split second, Tom froze, his eyes widening in surprise before a mask of cold indifference settled over his features. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he snapped, his tone icy as he pulled away from you, his grip on your waist loosening slightly.

“Oh of course not. I’m all the more intrigued to see how it will all play out.” You hum, an infuriatingly smug grin on your face as you look up at him, as bold and blunt as you've ever been.

Tom must admit he’s somewhat suprised. You seemed so demure and polite, he had never expected such directness from yourself.

The song comes to a close, everyone applauding as you meet Tom’s stare head-on, refusing to break away. You go to walk away when his hand wraps around your waist, pulling you back into him with terrifying force as the orchestra begins playing once more, with everyone else joining in.

The sudden tug at your waist caught you off guard, your breath hitching as you found yourself pulled back into Tom. His grip was firm, almost possessive.

"What do you think you're doing, Riddle?" you demanded, your voice tinged with a hint of apprehension as you struggled against his hold.

But Tom's expression remained impassive, his eyes boring into yours with a steely resolve that sent a chill down your spine. "Dancing," he replied curtly, his tone clipped as he held you close, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

He leans in closer, breath fanning against your ear as he speaks.

"You do realize you're playing with fire, don't you?" he murmurs, his voice laced with a dangerous edge.

“I’m not afraid of being burned.” You remark back quickly, meeting his frustrated gaze with a teasing one of your own.

Tom's lips quirked into a sardonic smile at your response, a flash of something unreadable flickering in his eyes. "Perhaps you should be," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with a warning tone.

You let go of Tom as the music comes to a close and he doesn't immediately pull you back. You look at him for a second more before tearing your gaze away and disappearing into the crowd.

Silly, silly girl.

Tom pursues straight after you, murmuring half-assed apologies to the couples he shoves past. The serpent slithers through the crowd, far in over his head, desperate for a glimpse of that red.

As Tom finally catches sight of you weaving through the throngs of people, his frustration mounts, fueled by the relentless desire to confront you. Without a second thought, he pushes past the last couple blocking his path and quickens his pace, determination etched into every line of his face.

"[Name]!" he calls out, his voice cutting through the din of the crowd. But you don't stop, your figure disappearing around a corner just ahead.

Refusing to be thwarted, Tom breaks into a sprint, his heart pounding in his chest as he closes the distance between you. Finally reaching the corner, he turns sharply, only to find you standing just a few feet away, your back pressed against the cold stone wall of the corridor.

A smirk plays at the corners of your lips as you watch him approach. "What's the matter, Riddle?" you taunt, your voice laced with a hint of amusement. "Can't keep up?"

Tom's jaw clenches, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface as he comes to a stop in front of you.

"You think you're clever, don't you?" he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

You tilt your head to the side, a mocking smile playing on your lips. "I don't have to think, Riddle," you reply, your tone dripping with sarcasm. "I know."

A flicker of annoyance flashes across Tom's features, but he quickly masks it with a cold indifference. "You may be clever, but you're also reckless," he retorts, his voice icy as he takes a step closer, crowding your space.

"And you're one to talk," you shoot back, your voice laced with a challenge.

Without warning, Tom closes the distance between you, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist with a forceful grip.

Before you can react, he's dragging you down the corridor, his steps purposeful as he leads you to the nearest empty classroom. You stumble along beside him, caught off guard by his sudden aggression.

He shoves open the door, pulling you inside with him as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting, fumbling around for a desk as Tom slams the door shut, He turns to you, breathing heavily as he takes a step forward, forcing you to back up into the desk behind you.

“What do you know.” He utters, voice low as he clenches his jaw.

"I know enough," you reply evenly, meeting his intense gaze with unwavering defiance. "I know that you're not as invincible as you think you are. Though you’re certainly trying to get to that point."

A flicker of anger flashes across Tom's features, his eyes narrowing as he takes another step closer, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. "You know nothing," he retorts sharply, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

You should feel ashamed, you should avert your eyes, but you cannot help but feel thrilled at the sight of Tom so angry, a familiar flutter in your stomach as he looks away, his jaw clenched.

The corner of your lips turn upwards into a provocative grin, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip.

Tom lets his gaze stray downwards for one second and he knows he’s fucked.

Completely and utterly done for. He’s fallen for the most stupidly infuriating, brainless, primal emotion of them all. Tom Riddle, who is smart, manipulative, and cunning, has lost his cool because of lust.

How utterly pathetic.

The realization hits him like a punch to the gut, leaving him reeling with a mixture of disgust and arousal. He hates you, despises every fibre of your being, and yet, that only seems to fuel the fire burning inside him.

You remain silent, observing him carefully as you are not privy to his innermost thoughts.

For a moment, there's a palpable silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. And then, without warning, Tom's hand shoots out, grabbing your chin with a bruising grip as he forces you to meet his gaze.

"You don't know anything," he hisses, his voice low and dangerous.

You don't have the time to even think of a response because Tom’s lips are crashing onto yours, replacing every single thought in your head with him and him only.

It's more angry than it is anything else, mouths clashing against one another in a punishing kiss. His grip on your jaw is bruising, a stray hand coming down to rest against the curve of your thigh and push you up so you're sitting on the desk.

He kisses you with fervour, as though he’s trying to steal the oxygen from your lungs and snuff the life out of those damn eyes.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer as you meet his kiss with fervour, your lips moving against his with a desperate need that borders on reckless abandon.

“Tom,” You murmur, a gasped plea as your nails dig into his bicep. He pays it no mind, lips coming down to press open-mouthed kisses to your throat.

It's maddening, the way you've managed to unravel him with just a glance, a touch, leaving him stripped bare and vulnerable in your presence.

But even as he loses himself in the heat of the moment, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminds him of the danger you represent. You know things, dangerous things, secrets that could unravel everything he's worked so hard to achieve. And yet, in this moment, none of it matters.

His rationale and will is eroded to nothing, consumed by the need to possess you fully.

Your hand wraps around his tie, tugging him slightly as you lean back, breaking the kiss. You gaze down at him, green tie wrapped tightly around your hand, and Tom wants to groan at the interruption, though he refuses to give you the satisfaction of doing so.

“Lust is a sin, you know?” You hum, lips slightly swollen and red as you keep Tom in place, a smirk tugging at your lips.

Tom didn’t care. He wasn’t religious. He didn’t believe in God. Tom didn't care about the concept of heaven and hell either. If being with you meant risking damnation, he was more than willing to take that chance.

“So is Lying. Greed. Hatred. Jealousy.” You list, tugging at Tom's tie with each word, pulling him lower and lower until he’s the one looking up at you. You lean back on your palms, crossing your legs as you narrow your eyes.

“Quite the sinner, aren’t you?” You hum, your voice laced with amusement.

Tom is done for, looking up at you with his mind filled with nothing but a visceral need for you.

“Perhaps.” He mutters, his voice strained.

He reaches out for you but you tut, placing a heel on his shoulder as you forcefully push him down, forcing him onto his knees in front of you with his tie still grasped firmly in your hand. The action causes your dress to slip slightly where the slit occurs in the side, revealing a glimpse of your skin so close to Tom’s face that he can’t tear his eyes off of it. A devious grin graces your face, tilting your head as you pull your plush lip between your teeth.

“Do you believe I won’t get into heaven?” Tom murmurs, stupidly playing into this game of yours as he looks up at you.

You laugh, low and mocking as you look down at him.

“Oh Tom, at the rate you’re going at I’ll be the closest you ever get to paradise.”

Tom may have been strong, but he was only human, and mankind was prone to crumble in the face of temptation.

“What do you suggest I do then?” He growls, his voice a low rumble filled with frustration and desire. You smirk down at him, relishing in the power you hold over him, knowing that you've managed to unravel the facade of control he presents to the world. With a flick of your wrist, you release his tie from your grasp, allowing it to fall limply against his chest.

Your heel remains as it is, pressing down firmly on his shoulder to ensure he remains in the same position as you speak, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Repent.”

Repentance is not something he's accustomed to, nor is it something he's ever considered. But in this moment, with you holding all the cards, he finds himself willing to entertain the notion, if only to appease the insatiable hunger gnawing at his soul.

@schaebickel @mildlyuninformative @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @lillywildly @multifandom-worlds

#slytherin #slytherin boys #tom riddle #harry potter #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys fic #theodore nott #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle fic

[annaartnstuff]

The only heaven I’ll be sent to

Is when I’m alone with you ✨

#I was born sick #but I love it #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #david tennant #micheal sheen #neil gaiman #stained glass #church #praying

[saintslore]

The only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you

#trc fanart #trc #the raven cycle #pynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch

[lychniis]

⚘ ― EVENFALL ! ( valentines day event ).

( # )ㅤ evenfallㅤ —ㅤ twilight ; dusk. the period or the light from the sky between full night and sunrise or between sunset and full night.

syn. a valentines day / white day event inspired by hozier lyrics ( and also seconding as my 1000 follower event i suppose XD ). feel free to drop by and select a prompt from the list below alongside a flower / genre. you could always opt for more flowers. however please note that minors are not allowed to request for / interact with nsfw works. please note that the maximum character limit is three.

this was more of a last minute bout of silliness, but i'd love to write some requests for you guys after supporting me and my bs for nearly two years now XD. so hey hey, my inbox is open to be raided! i'm currently taking this event for genshin impact and honkai star rail!

prompts. the prompts and flowers available are listed below. you can request a single prompt + one of more flowers of your choice! you could also add some additional suggestions if you'd like, say a setting or an au or a scenario! requests close by the 20th of febuary. i'll start posting on white day, march 14th.

daisy — fluff.

hyacinth — angst.

tulip — crack / humor.

orchid — smut.

i. ❛ there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. ❜

ii. ❛ no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her. ❜

iii. ❛ you knew who i was with every step that i ran to you. ❜

iv. ❛ some like to imagine. the dark caress of someone else. i guess any thrill will do. ❜

v. ❛ honey, when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes. i feel like a person for a moment of my life. ❜

vi. ❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

vii. ❛ honey please, try to love me. my love will never die. ❜

viii. ❛ know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty, oh my sunlight. ❜

ix. ❛ you don’t understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need. ❜

x. ❛ idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword. ❜

xi. ❛ honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips. ❜

xii. ❛ i'm so full of love I could barely eat. ❜

xiii. ❛ honey you're familiar, like my mirror years ago. ❜

xiv. ❛ i know who i am when i’m alone. i’m something else when i see you. ❜

xv. ❛ there’s something tragic about you. ❜

xvi. ❛ there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. ❜

xvii. ❛ still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man’s beliefs. ❜

xviii. ❛ i’ve known the warmth of your doorways. through the cold, i’ll find my way back to you. ❜

xix. ❛ screaming the name of a foreigner's god, the purest expression of grief. ❜

xx. ❛ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted, but i’m singing like a bird about it now.

xxi. ❛ the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you. ❜

xxii. ❛ i’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. ❜

xxiii. ❛ i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me. ❜

xxiv. ❛ honey please, try to love me. my love will never die. ❜

xxv. ❛ i had been lost to you, sunlight, and flew like a moth to you. ❜

xxvi. ❛ it’s not my arms that will fail me, but this world takes more strength than it gave me. ❜

xxvii. ❛ i need you to run to me, run until you feel your lungs bleeding. ❜

xxviii. ❛ i will not ask where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you. ❜

xxix. ❛ be still, my foolish heart. don't ruin this on me. ❜

xxx. ❛ honey, i wanna race you to the table, if you hesitate, the getting is gone. ❜

( all the dialog prompts presented here are taken from songs by hozier. i own none of them. )

EVENT WORKSㅤ •ㅤ ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN

#&&. my writing !! #EVENFALL ; valentines 2024 #genshin impact #honkai star rail #zhongli x reader #jing yuan x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #neuvillette x reader #blade x reader #kafka x reader #x reader #event #valentines day #wriothesely x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #aventurine x reader #sunday x reader

[writtenfromhawkins]

hoax.

ship: steve harrington x fem!reader.

summary: when his father lets him know his presence is expected at a company dinner party, steve blurts out he’d be taking his girlfriend. the problem? he’s very single. now stuck in a lie, he goes to you for help.

word count: 2.7k.

warnings: lots of pining, some curse words, mentions of migraines, steve’s dad sucks. 

authors note: cliché, but i am simply a slut for the fake dating trope.

part two

let’s fall in love for the night.

“Are you fucking insane?”

“Come on sweetheart,” he begs, reaching over the counter to grab ahold of your hands, his gaze never faltering. “I can’t go alone.”

“You could,” you point out, wiggling out of his grasp, “if you just told the truth. “

"I’m already the loser son with a dead-end job.” Steve waves his arms around, motioning to the racks of videos in the dingy store as if to say see? “I can’t be the loser son with a dead-end job and no date.”

And just like that you falter, any arguments—and you have many—die before they can leave your lips. You hate that your good, kind, funny, absolutely incredible friend felt like anything but. You’d never verbalize it but you despised his father for being the only one capable of bringing that side out of him, turning him from the man you admired into the needy, desperate-for-acceptance and attention boy you barely remembered from high school. 

“If I go...”

It’s a hypothetical, not a real answer but still, your words inflate him. He stands up straight, shoulders back, handsome features pulling into a grin.

“Steve...”

Before you can react, he’s up and sliding his long body across the counter. “Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, coming to a stop in front of you. Big hands reach out, grabbing ahold of each side of your face to pull you close and press a kiss to your forehead. “You are an angel, a goddess really, heaven sent.”

If his praise warms you, his lips set you on fire, just enough to make your brain go fuzzy and have you ready to agree to whatever he wants but you stop yourself, doing your best to hold on to some semblance of self-control. 

This is your friend, one of your closest, and one you maybe have some confusing feelings towards. You don’t like-like him, no way. But, yeah, your heart would beat just a little faster when you saw him and, sure, when he’d touch you—God, was he affectionate—sometimes you’d get butterflies. He was also your ultimate confidant, the one you could complain to about your parents or rant to about your latest shit date. He was a safe place, a non-judgmental ear, someone you could always rely on. Again, confusing.

You worry the ruse he was suggesting would run the risk of crossing a metaphorical line, something you may not be able to come back from.

“Steve,” you say again, hoping to grab his attention, “Stevie, that wasn’t a yes.” His smile falls and you resist the urge to backtrack. “I was trying to ask what we’d be doing. Like... if I agree, what am I actually agreeing to?”

Just like that, he perks up again because you are considering it. That’s progress and he’s grateful; you were the only person he felt comfortable enough asking. Robin would just laugh at him, he could hear it now—like anyone would believe that, dingus, she’d say before bursting into giggles. Nancy was complicated, came along with too much baggage and too many hurt feelings. But you? With your kind eyes and warm demeanor, he felt like he could go to you for anything.

“It’ll be an easy night, I promise,” Steve assures you, desperate for you to believe him. “I’ll make up some excuse so we can just meet my parents there. We won’t even have to deal with them that long. Really. I’d just need you to tolerate them for dinner and, uh, you know... act like you like me.” He throws it out there like it’s nothing, like the thought of that doesn’t make him feel some type of way. “You can wear a pretty dress and get a nice meal out of it. And, I swear, I’ll owe you big time.”

You’re quiet, pretending to consider the proposition—as if you could ever say no to him. “Can we get ice cream after?”

With no warning, he’s reaching out for you again, pulling you into an embrace. “Whatever you want.” He means it too.

—

When Steve shows up at your door a week later, you can barely contain your relief when you see officially that you two match. Well enough anyway. Getting outfit details out of the man had been akin to getting teeth pulled—long and painful.

“What’re you wearing?” You’d asked one night, phone cradled between your ear and shoulder, cord fully extended as you dug through your closet.

“Uh... jeans and a t-shirt?” His answer had come out like a question.

“What?” You’d laughed. “Not right now, Steve. I meant for the dinner.”

“Oh!” You couldn’t see it, but he slapped his forehead, face flushed. “Right, yeah. Duh. It’s supposed to be fancy so like... a suit and tie.”

“Color?”

“Black.”

“Black,” you’d repeated.

“Is that bad?” Steve’s voice betrayed him, he sounded panicked.

“No, no!” You were quick to reassure him. “That’s classic. What color shirt?”

“Blue.”

You paused, waiting for further details that don’t come. “What kind of blue?”

Steve scoffed. “What do you mean what kind of blue? Blue is blue.” 

“It’s really not,” you pointed out, arms crossing. “Is it dark or light?”

“Why does this even matter?” He didn’t mean to be short with you. Really, he didn’t. But anything involving his dad was enough to set him on edge. An already short fuse combined with genuine confusion didn’t make for the moment peasant conversation.

“So we can match. We’re supposed to look like a couple, right?” You chose to ignore his tone for the sake of keeping the peace.

Like a couple. “Oh,” he breathed. “Right, sorry. It’s dark.”

You’re about to ask if he meant more midnight blue or something a tad lighter but you stop yourself. No point, you could make that work. 

And you did. The little number you’d picked out was navy, slinky, and fell to mid-thigh. With enough skin exposed to keep it interesting but just conservative enough to satisfy the stuffy businessmen you’d surely encounter. 

“Hey,” you greet him, leaning against the door frame. You try to stop yourself but your eyes travel, taking in the perfectly coiffed hair, the broad shoulders, and the snug slacks. He cleaned up well.  

The one imperfection—if you could even consider it that—is the loose tie hanging around his neck. He catches your gaze and lets out a dejected sigh. “Couldn’t get the damn thing tied and didn’t wanna ask my dad. Do you think...?” He trails off, sheepish.

You soften at the admission, happy to help with whatever he needed. “Of course,” you answer, stepping aside. “Come in. I gotta grab my purse anyway.”

He steps cautiously inside, taking the opportunity while you were busy to fully appreciate your attire. “I shoulda said it as soon you opened the door but you look incredible.” You were always beautiful, that was something he realized ages ago, but to see you dolled up for him was something new, something he thought he could get used to. “I’m gonna have the prettiest fake date there.”

You can’t help it, you preen at his praise. You were doing this for him, after all. You wanted him to be pleased, to think you looked nice. With your back to him, you’re able to hide just how much an effect those words have on you as you grab your back from an end table and slip the strap up your bare shoulder.

“Alright,” you say as you approach him, coming to a stop right in front of him, the toe of your heels just barely touching his Oxfords. 

Almost hesitantly you reach out, hands taking hold of each end of the tie. It’s pretty, you decide. Navy with light blue and white flowers. You’re rusty but still, with minimal fumbling, you’re able to get a passable Windsor done. Carefully you tighten the knot, knuckles grazing his Adam's apple before your hands lower, smoothing the fabric down his chest to his sternum.

You hope he can’t tell your hands are shaking, he hopes you can’t feel how fast his heart is beating. 

Satisfied, you take a step back, eyeing your work. “Looks pretty good to me.”

He nods in agreement. “S’perfect, sweetheart. Thank you.” A silence falls over you for a moment, it’s comfortable and nice, but Steve has to break it. “Ready to go?”

When you give the affirmative, he offers you his arm. You take it and soon he’s leading you out of your house to his BMW, opening the passenger side and getting you safely in the car before rushing around the other side, joining you. 

—

When you pull up outside the banquet hall, Steve is quiet. Tentatively you glance over at him. Both hands are gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles are white, his shoulders tense, jaw clenched. You want to ask if he’s okay but before you can, he’s looking back at you, smiling although it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Let’s do this.” He doesn’t sound excited.

Steve is out of the car and making his way to your door before you even have your seatbelt undone. You thank him when he opens it, pulling the hem of your dress from where it’d ridden up on your thighs. His eyes follow your movements.

“Before we go in there, I just want you to know we can leave anytime, okay?” You’re doing him a favor, a major one, and he doesn’t want you uncomfortable, doesn’t want you in a bad situation just for his benefit.

You almost laugh, figuring that he’s being just a little dramatic but you refrain. “It’s just dinner, Steve. I promise I’ll be okay.”

He wants to point out you’ve never actually met either of his parents, making you woefully unprepared for what the night would entail. He wants to warn you, to protect you, but then you’re taking his hand in yours and any concern is forgotten.

—

That’s how you walked into the event: fingers interlaced, whispering to each other and Steve despised himself for how much he was enjoying it. You were his friend—strictly platonic. It should have felt weird or uncomfortable, but it didn’t. On the contrary, it felt nice, natural and he was hoping his parents wouldn’t see him, that he could keep the night just the two of you.

Those hopes are quickly dashed when his father, from across the fucking room, bellows out his name, waving. Steve can tell right then and there he’d been drinking and all he wants to do is turn you around and take you home but instead, he leads you right into the lion’s den. 

He regrets it but it’s too late. “Mom, dad, this is...”

He doesn’t even get the chance to introduce you. His mother is squealing your name—he’s surprised she even remembers it—and is wrapping you in an embrace. It’s stiff, incredibly insincere and you don’t like it, but you smile anyway.

When she dropped her arms, you step back so you’re pressed tightly against Steve, his hand finding the small of your back. “Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, it’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Oh,” his father breathes, “it’s nice to meet you too. We didn’t even think you existed, isn’t that right, honey?”

Wide-eyed, Mrs. Harrington almost looks apologetic. “We’ve just never seen you around the house.”

Steve grits his teeth, the irony in the comment not going unnoticed. They were never home enough to know what he had going on. 

“More like we didn’t think a girlfriend could fit his ice cream shop budget.” He says it like it’s supposed to be funny. No one laughs.

“I don’t work at Scoops anymore, dad.” Steve sounds contrite when he reminds his father, but the older man simply waves him off.

You tug on Steve’s suit jacket, stopping him before he can say anything else. “Well, you have nothing to worry about, I’ve never been treated better. You really raised a perfect gentleman, you should be proud.” And they should. They ended up with an incredible son even if they did little to form him into the man he was now.

“I guess he was bound to inherit something from me.” Yeah, right. “So, what do you do? Steve said something about college?”

“Well, I bartend part-time at The Hideout.” You say it like either of the elder Harringtons would have heard of the shithole but they’re definitely not your usual clientele. “It’s a little bar on the other side of town. But yeah, I’m in school right now. I’m majoring in Early Childhood Education at Purdue.” 

He whistles like he’s impressed. “A teacher, huh? An actual career.” He’s talking to you but he’s looking at Steve,

Your eyes narrow and you open your mouth, desperate to put him in his place, but Steve speaks before you get the chance. “Yup,” he agrees, “she’s brilliant. All future little gremlins are very lucky.”

You’re tense, frustrated by Steve’s father and the way he jumps at any opportunity to cut Steve down, but you allow yourself to be temporarily distracted. You could tell he meant what he was saying and it meant a lot to you.

“Oh, babe,” you turned to look at Steve, practically beaming at him. You catch the way he flushes at the pet name—a bold move for you, something you normally didn’t use but, hey, you were trying to sell it. “Thank you.” You turn your gaze back to his parents. “He’s so supportive.”

“He should be,” Mr. Harrington pipes up. “If he’s not gonna have a real job—”

Okay, that was enough.

“Hey—”

“Sweetheart,” Steve interjects, already knowing what is coming, “is your head feeling any better?”

You blink, totally caught off guard. What the hell was he talking about?

“Oh?” says Mrs. Harrington. “Are you not feeling well?”

“She gets these awful migraines,” Steve answers for you, just blatantly lying now. “Had one all day today.” He tsks as his hand moves from your back to your temple, fingers massaging soothing circles into the flesh. “I tried to get her to stay home but she was so excited to meet you guys. Nothing could have kept her away.”

“That’s so nice.” Her tone doesn’t suggest she actually thinks of it as nice, but she still presses a hand to her chest, feigning sincerity. “We couldn’t wait to meet you either, not after the way Steve talked about you.” The boy in question bristles at the comment, silently begging his mother not to reveal what he had actually said. “But if you’re unwell, you should really get some rest.”

“You are so right, mom,” Steve agrees readily, arm moving to wrap around your shoulder. “I know you’re disappointed, baby, but we should go.”

“Oh,” you say, back of your hand rising to rest against your forehead, “I guess you’re right.” You’re eager to go now, but do your best to sound reluctant, sad. “I’m so sorry we can’t stay for dinner.”

The goodbyes are brief and hurried, you have to resist the urge to run out the door, only fully relaxing once you and Steve are safely outside. “God, Steve,” you sigh, shaking your head. “They’re really awful.”

He can’t help it, he laughs. “I really should have warned you, huh?”

“Your father, I just...” You trail off, unable to even put it into words.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. You were great in there, by the way.” He would be forever in your debt, you saved him from monumental embarrassment. “It’s still kinda early, I think I can get us in at Enzo’s. You know, if you want.”

Your nose scrunches up and you shake your head. “Let’s just go get ice cream.”

“No way,” he protests. “You need actual food.” A lecture you’d received from Steve more times than you could count. He was always making sure you ate, that you were hydrated, that you slept well.

It was nice to be looked after but that was not what you were after now.

“You said anything I want...”

How could he argue with his own words?

“I guess I did, huh? Let’s get you that ice cream then, pretty girl. You definitely earned it.”

Maybe tomorrow after the soft touches, the pet names and the kind words things would be awkward. Maybe your concerns were valid and a line had actually been crossed, maybe things would be different. But that was a problem for another day.

For now, you were keen to sit with your friend in your fancy clothes, hip-to-hip enjoying two scoops of mint chocolate chip.

—

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you

[moonagedaydreamsofrhiannon]

When The Goo Goo Dolls said “I’d give up forever to touch you,” “you’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be” and when Hozier said “the only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you” and when Taylor Swift said “I would fall from grace just to touch your face” and when Hozier said “if I could hold you for a minute, I’d go through it again,” “I would not change it each time, heaven is not fit to house a love like you and I” and when Hozier said “I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door” and when George Ezra said “is the grass of Eden overrated? No one else is such a beautiful dream to me” and when Big Thief said “no love is like this, no sacrifices” and when Jeff Buckley said “my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder,” “all my riches for her smile,” “all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter” and when Johnny Cash said “you can have it all, my empire of dirt” 

#something about love and sacrifice and sin and devotion and damnation and etc. etc. #desperate tragic love songs with religious imagery #jeff buckley #hozier #francesca hozier #taylor swift #the goo goo dolls #big thief #take me to church #iris goo goo dolls #lover you should've come over #johnny cash #religious imagery #love songs

[nightprompts]

&. 𝐡𝐨𝐳𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  lyric  dialogue  prompts  taken  from  various  hozier  songs.  free  to  change  how  you  seem  fit.  )

❛ i’ve walked the earth and there are so few here that know how dark the night and just how cold the wind can blow. ❜

❛ i’ve no more kept my warmth than blood upon the snow. ❜

❛ it’s not my arms that will fail me, but this world takes more strength than it gave me. ❜

❛ the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you. ❜

❛ i’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. ❜

❛ i’ll tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife. ❜

❛ good god, let me give you my life. ❜

❛ so tired trying to see from behind the red in my eyes. ❜

❛ every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside. ❜

❛ you knew who i was with every step that i ran to you. ❜

❛ would things be easier if there was a right way? ❜

❛ honey, there is no right way. ❜

❛ i fall in love just a little, a little bit every day with someone new. ❜

❛ when you kill the lights and kiss my eyes, i feel like a person for a moment of my life. ❜

❛ you don’t know what hell you put me through. ❜

❛ there’s something tragic about you. ❜

❛ i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me. ❜

❛ i have never known hunger like these insects that feast on me. ❜

❛ i’d be home with you. ❜

❛ there’s nothing sweeter than my baby. ❜

❛ no grave can hold my body down, i’ll crawl home to her. ❜

❛ what did you bury before those hands pulled me from the earth? ❜

❛ i will not ask where you came from. i will not ask and neither should you. ❜

❛ just put your sweet lips on my lips. we should just kiss like real people do. ❜

❛ i know who i am when i’m alone. i’m something else when i see you. ❜

❛ you don’t understand, you should never know, how easy you are to need. ❜

❛ don’t let me in with no intention to keep me. ❜

❛ don’t feed me — i will come back. ❜

❛ i’ve known the warmth of your doorways. through the cold, i’ll find my way back to you. ❜

❛ still my heart is heavy with the hate of some other man’s beliefs. ❜

❛ i need you to run to me, run until you feel your lungs bleeding. ❜

❛ when i was a child, i heard voices... some would sing and some would scream. ❜

❛ i learned the voices died with me. ❜

❛ don’t you ever tame your demons, but always keep ‘em on a leash. ❜

❛ you’ve done me wrong for a long time. but after all you’ve done, i never changed my mind. ❜

❛ honey please, try to love me. my love will never die. ❜

❛ nothing fucks with my baby. ❜

❛ if i was born as a black thorn tree, i’d wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies. ❜

❛ ain’t it warming you, the world going up in flames? ❜

❛ i couldn’t utter my love when it counted, but i’m singing like a bird about it now.❜

❛ i’m almost me again, she’s almost you. ❜

❛ i’ve had no love like your love. from nobody. ❜

❛ make your good love known to me, or just tell me about your day. ❜

❛ i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight. ❜

❛ that’s the kinda love i’ve been dreaming of. ❜

❛ i fell in love with the fire long ago. ❜

❛ with each love i cut loose, i was never the same. ❜

❛ i had been lost to you, sunlight, and flew like a moth to you. ❜

❛ know that i would gladly be the icarus to your certainty, oh my sunlight. ❜

❛ i have never loved a darker blue than the darkness i have known in you. ❜

#hozier #sentence starters #lyric sentence starters #roleplay memes #ask memes #inbox memes #dialogue prompts #writing prompts #rp memes #lyrics

[b1mbodoll]

(sorry for my english)

what do you think about sunghoon pissing on/in reader??

he'd gaslight them to make them think this is the only way he'll forgive them for even looking at other guys. it could be all intimate and reader could be totally up for it BUT hoon could also make it so humiliating, forcing reader to show everyone who they belong to..

“IN THAT CASE could you write hoonie pissing on your face to show you who you belong to ??? <33”

pairings: park sunghoon x f! reader

warnings: omorashi + degradation + manipulation + jealousy + humiliation

💌: i sort of combined these two asks bc i love this omg u dont understand, i love u guys and ur minds. also nonnie please dont apologize for ur english, its great !!! <3

“what the fuck were you thinking, yn? why would you let him touch you like that, don’t you love me?” sunghoon was seething, muscles taut and his hair a mess due to him tugging on it in frustration as he stared you down. “i do love you hoonie! promise i didn’t want him anywhere near me but he wouldn’t leave me alone,” you explained, tears lining your lashline because the thought of making sunghoon feel unloved was killing you. “please believe me! what can i do t’make it up to you hoonie? i’ll do anything, just-“ you sniffled, “just want you to believe me please.”

sunghoon was impossibly hard now, cock throbbing when the sound of your soft sniffles and whimpers reached his ears. you tried your best to stop crying but little did you know his plan was now in motion. “well, i guess there’s something you can do, but,” he sighed, “i don’t know if you’re up for it…’s okay sweetheart, don’t worry about me.” your eyes widened as you wrapped your hands around his noticeably larger one, “no! tell me hoonie, i said i’ll do anything. wan’ show you how much i love you.” well how could he say no to that?

“okay angel i guess we can try it out.. get on your knees ‘nd start suckin’ my cock.” you complied with his request immediately, not wanting to upset him even more. you noticed his cock was already leaking quite a bit inside your mouth, thinking you were making him feel so good he produced more precum than usual made you bob your head faster, gagging around his girthy cock.

your boyfriend was in heaven. your gags and moans causing vibrations around his cock that sent him over the edge, but not before he pushed your head down, your nose pressed right up against his pelvis causing you to choke a bit. “fuck yeah, doll, take this fuckin’ cock. this is what you get for letting others touch what belongs to me.” you squeezed your eyes shut as tears continued sliding down your cheeks, the warm stream of sunghoon‘s piss hitting the back of your throat was too much for you, nails digging into his meaty thighs. he let go of your head when he finished, squishing your cheeks together to watch his piss leak from your sore mouth.

“look so fuckin’ pretty, angel, you’re nasty aren’t you? look at you clenching your thighs, god, you’re pathetic. think that guy would still wanna fuck you if he saw you like this?” you were so humiliated, you couldn’t believe that sunghoon pissing down your throat turned you on this much. he let go of your cheeks to pet your head, letting you rest on his thigh. “don’ care about him, hoonie. promise i don’t, i’m yours. only ever wanna be yours,” you sighed, looking up at him with a pout on your lips. “i only love you, do you believe me now?” he smiled down at you, “i don’t know baby we might need to do this again sometime before i can forgive you.”

#♡.signed. sealed. delivered. #♡.the honeypot #enhypen x reader #enhypen smut #enhypen #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #💌.omorashi #💌.degradation #💌.manipulation

[wanderingelvis]

i was wondering (and totally lmk if i’m like spamming you i totally don’t mean to) if you could write a fic where elvis meets an innocent reader on the set of a movie.(the reader is an extra) and elvis begins to notice the readers little space habits and suspects it. one day, after overhearing some of the other male cast members make rude remarks about the reader and elvis decides it’s time to take the reader home where he can protect them. elvis calls the reader over to his trailer and starts to make the reader drop, so that he can take the reader home and be their daddy.

i loved this request sm that it’s gonna be a two-parter!! so here’s part 1! ✨

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

Word count: 3,101

Pairings: 70s CG!Elvis and Little F!Reader

Warnings: little space lifestyle, manipulation

It was your first proper job. The one that you were proud of, that your parents would tell their friends about and it was a lot of pressure.

You were the newest person to Elvis’ little performing circle and Elvis always made a point to get to know his band and performers - how else could he put on a successful performance if not everyone was on the same page and trusting each other?

After spending time alone with you and in a group setting, Elvis had his suspicions about you. You had all the qualities of someone with a little personality - docile, submissive, wide-eyed, easily overwhelmed and eager to please. Now, Elvis knew that this meant that you could just be sweet and innocent, adjusting to the chaos of his world, but Elvis figured that even if you were just that, the little lifestyle would certainly help you cope in dealing with all of it.

The first time Elvis really suspected anything was during a break in recording, when a stuffed animal fell out of your locker in front of everyone. You furiously tried to stuff it back in, hoping that no-one had seen, but you'd caught Elvis', Jerry and Sonny's eyes as well as a few others. Your cheeks heated a violent shade a pink, as you tried to sort yourself out, getting increasingly flustered and overwhelmed. As Elvis observed you from afar, he knew you couldn't look after yourself properly, someone was going to have to do it for you.

From then on, Elvis had quietly instructed Jerry to have someone watch over you, making sure you were okay and reporting back to Elvis.

Elvis had been told by Charlie that he’d spotted you in the park by the studios colouring pretty pictures under a tree, whilst Red had informed Elvis that you stopped past every stray cat in the lot, crouching down to speak to it, feed it if you could and stroke it.

Elvis knew you were a little angel sent straight from heaven and he knew he had to have you. Elvis devised a somewhat sinister little ploy to get him in your good graces, for you to see him in a caregiver light from your first proper encounter.

The fame and power that came with Elvis meant that all he needed to do was slip the security a $100 dollar bill and in exchange, he and his small entourage were given the keys to every locker. He only really trusted Jerry with this operation as he made Jerry break into your locker and retrieve your teddy bear from your locker and bring it to Elvis. Now, Elvis knew that his actions were going to cause you distress, but he figured that in the grand scheme of things, you’d be better off for it - that’s how Elvis liked to justify many of his less-than-moral escapades.

“Thanks, Jer.” Elvis said, grabbing the plush, brown teddy bear with a pink bow tie from Jerry who remained slightly confused at Elvis’ intentions.

“Now what, EP?” Jerry asked, curiously.

“Now, I’ll give it back to her when the timing is just right.” Elvis said, leaving Jerry just as bewildered. Jerry figured it was better to just let Elvis do whatever it was that he needed to do rather than question it. There was a method to his madness, Jerry tried to tell himself.

When you realised that your beloved and treasured teddy bear, Binky, was missing, it felt like your whole world had fallen apart - or at least the secure feeling of it that your teddy bear gave you.

You tried real hard not to let the sheer panic and distress seem obvious as you stood at your open locker, quietly hyperventilating that your most trusted teddy was gone. She was a reminder of home, that helped steady you when things where getting all a bit much for little, sweet you.

You began to pace the locker room, thinking maybe she’d fallen out of your bag somewhere and been misplaced but the panic inside of your tummy was growing as your started to realise she was nowhere to be seen.

You see, Elvis was watching you from a tall window above the entry locker room, from the top of a stairwell as your distress confirmed to him that you were indeed a little, even if you didn’t know it yet.

You tried to keep your composure as you went into rehearsals with Elvis and the rest of the crew. It was safe to say you were feeling very wobbly and nervous, your lost teddy bear playing persistently on your mind. You were worried you’d dropped her in a puddle or left her on the bus on the way to the studio, what if she was scared? You could’ve sworn that you’d put Binky in your locker along with your bag, but you knew your memory wasn’t the best and now you were just so confused, right before you had to go and record.

Sheepishly, you wandered into the studio where a couple of people were already set up and chatting. You walked over to your stool and microphone, sitting down and patiently and quietly waiting for Elvis and everyone else to appear.

You were trying to remain calm, you knew you needed to be a big girl right now, not crying over some silly bear, you just couldn’t help the anxious feeling that was creeping its way into your body.

When Elvis appeared he went around the small room greeting everyone, making sure they all felt comfortable and good - and that’s when he landed on you.

“Ready to record, Y/N?” Elvis asked in a surprisingly softer tone, a little more hushed than usual.

You offered a small smile and nod, your quiet demeanour making Elvis raise his eyebrow at you, even if he knew why you were quiet.

“Everythin’ alright honey?” Elvis asked gently.

“Just tired.” You mumbled albeit remaining very polite. Elvis nodded and continued on.

The recording was going well until your microphone fell from its stand as you tried to adjust it, causing a loud bang in the isolated room. You apologised skittishly, and you thought everything was going okay until you screwed up your lines, your brain just going fuzzy.

Feeling a little worked up, you apologised again, especially to Elvis, who just sent you a nod of acknowledgment before continuing.

When the horrendous session was finally through, you quietly began to gather your bearings and sort your equipment when you realised someone much taller had approached you.

“Y/N? Elvis would like to see you right away in his trailer.” A man, who you believed to be called Jerry, told you. You gulped, realising you were likely in for a big telling off after ruining several takes with your clumsy and distracted self.

You followed Jerry compliantly, you wouldn’t ever disobey any command, you didn’t trust yourself to know better and you wouldn’t dare go against anyone. Jerry led you to Elvis trailer, doing an odd pattern of knocking, probably so that Elvis knew it was him. Jerry nodded at you and opened the door, before walking off to tend some other business.

You tentatively wandered into the trailer that you’d never been in before. You liked it a lot, velvet reds, an oddly comforting scent of cigar smoke, designs for performance outfits pinned on a wall and even a few pistols laid out on a counter.

“Y/N?” Elvis said cooly, snapping you out of your observations, you noticed you’d begun nibbling your finger whilst looking around - a childish habit that for some reason, you couldn’t get out of.

You just smiled sweetly, unsure what Elvis wanted but fearing you’d let him down during the recordings.

“Do you know why I called you here Y/N?” Elvis asked gently, relaxing on the couch as you stayed fixed in your spot, not daring to move unless told to.

The size difference between you was immense, you felt utterly dwarfed by his presence. He wasn’t even the tallest guy on the lot, despite being very tall, yet he seemed to tower over just about everyone.

You panicked a little at the question, fiddling with you fingers. “M’in trouble for messing up the recording?” You asked meekly, shy to even admit it.

“Not in trouble sweetheart,” Elvis assured gently. The pet name made your tummy do a little somersault - a sensation that was foreign to you but one that you quite liked. “Everyone’s got bad days, you didn’t seem yourself in there,” Elvis said observantly.

You were feeling wobbly. Now, you weren’t actually accustomed to the little space lifestyle so you didn’t really understand the feelings you often experienced, you couldn’t really articulate them in any way to yourself, let alone to somebody else. But you knew when you felt a little different, you felt, as you put it, wobbly. It was that feeling of anxiety, mixed with neediness and vulnerability.

You weren’t exactly sure what triggered feeling wobbly either. You knew that it could happen when you woke up in the morning, if something out of the ordinary happened in your routine, if you were scared or even if you were happy.

You blinked a little, worried about a potential onset of tears if you admitted to Elvis you’d lost Binky.

“I, um, I lost somethin’ just before the session, and, and,” You frowned a little, getting frustrated at yourself at tripping over your words. “I guess, it was just on my mind lots. M’sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise.” You said earnestly, your nerves and flustered state seeming obvious to Elvis, who patted the spot on the couch next to him.

“C’mere.” Elvis cooed and you complied without a second thought, making your way over and sitting down next to the big man. “Whatcha missin’ darlin’?” Elvis asked, despite knowing.

“My bea-“ You stopped yourself, feeling all hot and bothered at mentioning that you were so devoted to a soft toy, thinking how silly you’d look in front of Elvis. “No, it’s silly.” You mumbled.

“If it’s causin’ you this much upset little one, it ain’t silly.” Elvis soothed, the pet name doing a number on you again, giving you those strange wobbly feelings.

You’d always found Elvis attractive, even before you started working with him. However, there were little things that you really liked about him, such as when you were standing in line next to him in the canteen area, he’d always help serve your plate up, always insisting on more green vegetables to keep you healthy.

It was like he was a dominant albeit gentle and encouraging presence and you really were drawn to him, even if it was unprofessional.

“I have a teddy bear and I lost her and she’s really special to me and I don’t know where I put her a-and I thought, I thought,” You we’re starting to get worked up and panicky all over again, this time in front of someone so famous and powerful that it was making the situation worse. “I put her someplace safe but when I looked she was gone and she helps me and I don’t know what to,” You whimpered, your voice cracking as tears began to pool in your eyes.

You dared not look at Elvis, only imagining his face when he realised how weird you were. Yet all you felt was a large hand on your back, gently rubbing soothing circles which helped.

“Oh little one, I’m sorry.” Elvis cooed as you hiccuped adorably by his side, your feet not quite reaching the floor in comparison to his which were outstretched. “What does she look like hm?”

“Um, um, she, she’s got um, brown fur and she’s got a pink bow tie and it’s um, it’s real pretty,” You stammered, feeling so wobbly and small as tears began to trickle down your puffy cheeks.

“A pink bow tie?” Elvis asked with you nodding and sniffling in response. “Well, I did happen to notice a teddy bear out in the entrance to the lot earlier, a teddy bear with a pink bow tie in fact.” Elvis said and for the first time since you entered his room, you looked straight up at him.

“Really?” You sniffled, your eyes wide as you wiped them with your sleeve.

“Want to come with me and we can take a look and see if she’s yours?” Elvis said gently. You nodded yet again, feeling just a bit too wobbly to keep using words. “Okay sweet girl, let’s go.”

Elvis helped you up a little, taking your small hand in his large one as you went to another room. You realised that lots of trailers were interconnected from the inside and Elvis had so much space.

You were surprised at how sweet and kind Elvis was being. You’d expected him to find you odd, but he was being gentle and soft with you, as if he knew you were feeling a little unsure of yourself and in a wobbly state of mind.

When you turned a corner, you entered a room where lots of other men, who you realised later were Elvis’ Memphis Mafia, were all lounging on the couches, laughing and drinking. At the sudden surprise at the large crowd of loud men, you tried to hide behind Elvis a little, shuffling your body behind his whilst holding his hand a little extra tightly, which he couldn’t help but smirk at.

“Outta here, fellas.” It was just three words but they all quickly obliged Elvis’ request, leaving within a minute of the command. It made you realise the power and control Elvis held. “Sorry about them, honey.” Elvis said, offering you a smile.

He led you a draw, opening it and pulling out Binky, with you tearing up all over again at the mere sight of her.

“That’s her, that’s Binky.” You said, wiping your eyes again as you hiccuped. Relief washed over your small body as you wrapped your arms around Elvis, as far as they would go. “Thank you, thank you, you saved her!” You cried sweetly.

“Oh darlin’, look atchu, look at the state you’re in, all worked up, hm?” Elvis cooed, grabbing some tissues from a box on the table and kneeling down to gently dab it under your eyes and nose. You felt a little embarrassed at the way you were, but you couldn’t help it if you tried, you were just an overwhelmed little thing.

“M’sorry, I was just real worried and she, she’s real special t’me.” You said softly.

“I know she is, I know baby. Binky’s a pretty name, you give her that name sweet girl?” Elvis asked you, trying to make you feel better.

Elvis was secretly thrilled at how everything had turned out, you were even more vulnerable than he’d initially anticipated. He could tell that you were feeling little, you just didn’t know how to articulate it, just like a little one.

He wanted to protect you and take care of you so badly, here you were, right in front of him, a sweet, beautiful, docile, gentle, naive little thing and he just had to have you.

“Uh huh.” You said sweetly, “I had her all my life and she just makes me happy and helps me when I’m feelin’…” You trailed off a little, unsure of how to describe how you felt to Elvis.

“A bit confused hm?” Elvis said, finishing your sentence for you. You nodded, grateful that Elvis was able to think for you. “I bet she’s been helping you with your new job here?” Elvis asked.

“Jus’ get scary sometimes.” You admitted, almost whispering as Elvis continued to kneel in front of you.

Both you and Elvis realised you were feeling extremely ‘wobbly’ as you’d put it, as you started chewing on your fingertips anxiously.

“I know it can baby, you’re doin’ a real good job of it baby.” Elvis hushed.

“Really?”

“Really. How’s about I make you a lil’ promise honey?” Elvis suggested, gently taking your fingers from your mouth and holding them in his own hands. “How’s about, whenever you feel scared, or even a lil’ bit nervous or confused, you come knock on that door and you come find me? You can do whatever you like, you and Binky, you can even have a nap if you need to. How does that sound, little one?” Elvis said, pushing stray hairs behind your ear tenderly, making shivers go down your spine.

You nodded again, liking the idea very much. You had some friends in this place but you often found it all very overwhelming and stressful. Elvis had been nothing but a calm, authoritative presence and you craved more and more of him.

“Good girl.” Elvis praised.

And that’s how the next couple of months ensued. Elvis delighted in you seeking him out for comfort. At first, it was only a couple of times a week but eventually, you’d be in his dressing rooms practically every day.

Elvis had made it a safe haven for you, he’d even given you your own draw, where you’d keep Binky, knowing she was much better off there than in your locker. It also held a colouring book with lots of different paints and colouring pencils for you, which you enjoyed doing quietly between each rehearsal. Elvis has even put some of your favourite snacks in there for if you were ever feeling peckish.

It had everything and Elvis gave you everything. You felt so looked after and cared for that it was becoming difficult to not become totally dependent on Elvis. It was at the point where Elvis, or one of his men, would now pick you up from your little apartment and drop you back, even if that meant you staying far later than your finished time. But you didn’t mind, you loved the tranquil and safe space Elvis had made for you. You loved doing your pretty colours for Elvis whilst he worked on other projects throughout the day, as you eagerly awaited his return so that you could run up to him and show him all your pretty pictures.

Elvis was surprised at how quickly you seemed to slip into the routine he’d provided for you. You were everything he wanted and more - beautiful, gentle, kind, naive and little.

The only thing left to do was to officially introduce you to the little lifestyle, and Elvis couldn’t wait.

taglist: @eliseinmemphis @prompted-wordsmith @vintagegirl2005 @imaginationlast @presleyenterprise @librafilms @ccab @wolywolymoley @wwebaby657 @billhaderstan420 @waiting4brucewayne2adoptme @elvispresleywife @ellie-24 @hollbunn @sassanoe @gothicphantom @fallinlovewithurlove @astralheart21 @elvisbf @slimerspengler @octobers-snow @meetmeatyourworst @reddie-freddie @kxnnxy @lana-4life

#elvis #elvis presley #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis smut #elvis x y/n #elvis fluff #yandere elvis #elvis x you #70s elvis #little reader #elvis fanfic

[goldsainz]

MASTERLIST.

A/N: i’m not making a masterlist for this man, not worth it, only fic i’ll make for him ever (and i mean that because as much as i love reading about him, it would hurt my heart to write good things about him) velaryon!reader (no stating of bastard or true born, just rhaenyra’s daughter) i’d recommend listening to bigger than the whole sky because it sets the mood greatly [gif cred: @gameofthronesdaily]

WORD COUNT: 2,5k

──────────

MORE THAN JUST A SHORT TIME

You had claimed the second largest dragon to exist, Vermithor, when you were just 9 years old. 

It was a great feat, and an outworldly honour to be his rider. Though tensions weren’t as high within your family, having claimed that dragon was an obvious gain towards your side. 

You had sung to him, paying no mind to the warnings of the dragon keepers as you ventured into the depths of the dragon pit. It was like a match made in heaven, as Vermithor found you worthy, being claimed once more.

You could offer a protection many dragons lacked, as did their riders. It made perfect sense in your head to advocate for yourself and go to Storm’s End with your brother, Lucerys. And even though you would be of better use somewhere else, the thought of your little brother being sent alone, even as a messenger, was outrageous in your eyes.

“It will be easy, mother. In and out, he’s just a messenger.” You continued to argue with your freshly crowned mother.

“You would be of better use elsewhere, Y/N.” Her voice was stern, you were sure she was a breath away from commanding you to drop the matter.

“What of the skies? Arrax is far too young as is Lucerys, Vermithor will serve the both of them with great protection.” Lucery’s huff was not unheard, but you chose to ignore it, you had more pressing issues. 

“Lucerys will be just a messenger, what would he need protection for?”

“Our foes.” Your voice is chilly, it makes your younger brother’s hair stand up. He knows the risk, and yet he is willing to still complete his duty, but you won’t let him do it alone.

“Lord Borros is a proud man, he would not let harm come to his guest.” Your mother’s words are true, but the fear burning in the pit of your stomach could not be quelled.

“It’s a short flight, we'll be back before you know it.” You assured firmly, reaching to grab one of her hands, “Please let me do this, I will go wherever you need me to after coming back, I swear it.” Your whisper was intended only for your mother’s ears only, as she nodded her head, the rest of the people in the room awaited their Queen’s verdict.

“Princess Y/N Velaryon will aid her brother, Lucerys Velaryon, in his travel to Storm’s End to prevent any conflict that may arise.” You let out a breath, the grip you had on the table lessening in force as you looked at your brother, noting the relief of not being alone.

You stared at the ceiling above, hoping that the Gods were not playing cruel games with you. You prayed for your fears to be misplaced, that you would return home safely.

━━━━━━

Flying towards Storm’s End was more dreadful than you had anticipated. You flew over Arrax, as your own dragon shielded Lucery’s. You were both slightly shaken from the tempestuous storm coming, your hair now laid messier and more like knots form the strong winds.

Sometimes Vermithor grumbled from the thunder, as if to challenge them to be louder. You urged him to be calm, but he was set on showing his strength. Though you weren’t sure to whom.

When you finally landed you viewed the guards standing in front of Lord Borros’s hall. You hopped off from Vermithor, gracefully landing on the ground. As you walked behind your brother, you both heard a roar that made you turn.

Vhagar was here.

You had to swallow down your worries, preparing for the worst, but mostly to defend Lucerys. Something in you urged you to turn back, to denote the Baratheon’s as a lost cause, but that would not suffice. So you took all of your bravery, and continued to walk.

“I am Prince Lucerys Velaryon.” You knew him, he was fearful but still remained poised for the realm’s sake, more so your mother’s.

The guards looked at you, “I am Princess Y/N Velaryon.” 

“We bring a message to Lord Borros from the Queen.”

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon.” The thundering does not stop, but as he is introduced a figure turns around.

You know exactly who it is. Aemond Targaryen had not been a pleasant surprise, but you were grateful that the sighting of his dragon could mask the utter shock of seeing him, once more.

“Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. And his sister, Princess Y/N Velaryon.” One of the Baratheon guards finished.

You held his gaze, looking straight at his eye, no fear visible for him to take advantage of.

“Lord Borros... we brought you a message from our mother... the Queen.” Lucerys says, 

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King. Which is it? King or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.” Borros Baratheon laughs at his own jests, but you do not even twitch from it. Your posture straight, which made his laughter die as he viewed your hard stance. “What's your mother's message?”

Your brother hands it to one of his guards, so that he can place it on Lord Borros’s hand.

“Where's the bloody maester?” The maester makes haste to him, grabbing the message as he whispers it’s content to him.

Whilst you awaited for him to finish, you quickly avert your eye to your once lover, now enemy. It seems the joy shared just days ago quickly died, as did the memories of you and him together in your heart. Replaced by betrayal, the usurping of your mother’s throne no doubt supported by his end.

“"Remind" me of my father's oath. King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact.” The smirk on Aemond’s face never leaves him, only seeming to be reinforced by his seeming victory, “If I do as your mother bids... which one of my daughters will you wed... boy?” 

“My lord... I am not free to marry. I'm already betrothed.” At Lucerys’s words, your uncle smirks more, the change noticeable to the both of you.

“So you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen, my lord.” Your brother says, making his way out of the Hall. You follow in suit, your hand still gripping the sword on your hip tightly. 

“Wait... my Lord Strong.” You tense at his voice, watching as Lucerys turns to him. “Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?” 

“I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior.

“A fight would be little challenge. No. I want you to put out your eye. As payment for mine. One will serve.” Aemond takes of his eyepatch, his sapphire eye a sight you often saw in the privacy of your chambers. He then proceeds to take out a dagger, throwing it onto the ground. You step in front of your little brother, cocking your head to the side as if to challenge him. “I would not blind you. Mm, plan to make a gift of it to my mother.” 

“He will do no such thing.” You seethe, your voice overpowering your brother’s “No”.

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.” Aemond seems to come to his own conclusion, but you just scoff at the irony of his words.

“Says the usurper’s brother.” He smirks at your words, only infuriating you more.

“Not here.” 

“Give me your eye or I will take it, bastard!” You take out your sword, pointing it to him, watching as he runs towards the both of you. Lucerys has taken out his own, too, but you know that only one of you can put up a fight against him. It seems your fears were correct, you only wished they didn’t escalate further than mere threats.

“Not in my hall! The boy came as an envoy. I'll not have bloodshed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys and Princess Y/N back to their dragons.” The three of you make no move, “Now.” 

You made your way to the exit, gripping your brother’s hand to show even the slightest of comforts to him. You shuddered out a breath as you noticed the terrible storm you now had to fly in.

You watched Lucerys run to Arrax, the dragon meeting him halfway. You avert your gaze from them, looking out for Vhagar, but she was nowhere to be seen, and that made you tremble. And the cold was not at fault.

“Sōvēs, Vermithor!” You took off when Arrax did, following them from behind this time.

You yelped when you saw Vhagar appear above you, watching intently as your brother appeared to be shaken from the scare. 

Aemond’ laugh was cruel, not the one you loved. It made you gulp, trying to maintain Vermithor at bay as he sensed your worries. You had a great bond with him, but he was not called the Bronze Fury for nothing, and now was not the time for him to show it.

Aemond shouted things you couldn’t quite make out with the heavy storm, but what you could make out was Vhagar trying to bite Lucerys and his dragon like it was her last meal. Though Vermithor was big, he paled in comparison to the mighty Visenya’s dragon. Which is why you feared greatly for Arrax, who in your eyes was still just a baby.

Your brother shouted for his dragon to turn quickly. You gripped the reins and flew after him, swishing around Vhagar who seemed to not be bothered by the big dragon by her side. The same could not be said for her rider, who was watching you attentively. 

As Lucerys entered a narrow passage made of rocks, you were below Vhagar but still slightly behind her. You now set your eyes only on Lucerys, making sure not to lose your sight on him.

Aemond continued to laugh, talking to the rain about how he was still owed a debt. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, wind jig what possessed him to create such a dangerous chase for something that had not great value now. He had claimed Vhagar, wasn’t that what he once called, a fair exchange?

You were suddenly pulled down by your dragon, no command needed as you watched fire be thrown to Vhagar, some of the heat reaching you. Vermithor seemed to be aware of his surroundings more than you were, but you were frightened, he did something under no command. Yes, he had saved you from being burnt, but who could say what more would be done without your word. 

“No, no, no, no, no! No, Vhagar! No!” Aemond shouted to his dragon, who seemed to have made her own mind up as to what she would do in retaliation.

Vermithor roared, a protective nature you had now passed onto him. He quickened his flight to reach Arrax faster than Vhagar, and you were now flying upwards, reaching a clear sky.

Vermithor was now surveying the new landscape, he was near your brother but not close enough to shield him from the wide mouth of Vhagar.

It had happened far too quickly for the both of you, the screech from Arrax, the frightened scream of Lucerys, and the chilling roar of Vhagar. In just a second you had watched your brother fall from the sky, whatever was left from his dragon almost grazed you. 

You looked to Aemond, who seemed just as distraught, the evident loss of control over his own dragon did nothing to your growing anger. There was no time to truly grasp the severity of the situation, your new mission was to get to Dragonstone physically intact. 

“Sagon adere, Vermithor, adere!” You shouted to your own dragon. Be fast, Vermithor, fast!

The chase was now bloodier, it was no longer a game of a scorned man, but that of a war scarred dragon. Vermithor was thankfully faster than Arrax could have ever been, which was why you had managed to loose Vhagar in the clouds. Though you could still hear her roar every once in a while, you weren’t sure if it was true or just your imagination replaying it. 

But you knew one thing for certain: this meant war. This was one of the biggest crimes a man could commit, and you would make sure it was known by every single lord lyal to the Blacks or Greens, the world would know. 

Aemond Targaryen was a kinslayer, and your little brother had been his victim.

━━━━━━

When you reached Dragonstone, only then did tears start falling from your eyes. Vermithor wailed as he felt your pain.

You sobbed still sitting on your dragon, you hadn’t even reached the dragon keepers, resting by the mount. You felt helpless, like a failure, you had been sent to avoid anything even touching Lucerys. Yet here you were, without your brother, mourning over a loss you had witnessed.

It shouldn’t have been him, he was young, far too young, with so much life to be lived. What were you supposed to say? There were no words that could ever suffice for the horrible event that had happened.

Your mother had lost her daughter just hours ago, and now, Lucerys was gone too. You screamed in agony, hitting the saddle with all of your might, knowing Vermithor would just barely feel it. He roared loudly, and if the people at Dragonstone hadn’t heard him before, they had now.

You cried for what felt like hours, until your face felt dry from the tears. Your eyes were red, your face puffy, all things you rarely saw from yourself. You didn’t even bother fixing your soaked hair as you commanded your dragon to fly towards the dragon pit. 

The keepers made now questions with your state, already fearing the wrath painted all over their Princess’s face. You walked painfully slowly towards your mother, not giving any time for the guards to open any doors or announce your presence to her. You only stood in front of her from the other end of the table. 

Daemon sensed something was wrong with his daughter, ordering the room to be cleared. All of the lords and guards left as quickly as their feet allowed them too. 

“Where is Lucerys, Y/N?” Your mother carefully asked, watching you intently as you made your way to her.

You didn’t dare to look at her, tears dripping onto the floor. You heard her take a sharp breath, turning to look at the fireplace. You saw Daemon follow in suit, his hand intertwined with hers. 

When she turned around, you glanced up and saw a look on her face that could only mean trouble. There was no way to go back now, any ounce of mercy that existed inside her, was now gone. 

You bowed your head to her, your lips trembling from grief and rage. 

Lucerys would be avenged. 

#*ੈ✩༄ my works ! #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #ewan mitchell #lucerys velaryon #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond fanfiction #aemond x y/n #aemond fic #aemond targaryen x velaryon!reader #aemond targaryen x female reader

[whoslibby]

eris was truly a devoted mate to you, he would do anything for you. you were his saviour; the only thing stopping him from being as cruel as he could of been.

today was your wedding ceremony, a special day for any two fae but this one was different. you had it earlier today only to retreat to your shared bedroom for the evening.

eris pulled out a slip of parchment, vows. your body tensed nervously not knowing what he could be saying your vows were earlier today.

“I didn’t want to say these earlier.” he tells you, you were his to enjoy, his vows intimate, something he couldn’t share with someone else.

“I should have worshipped you sooner, the only heaven i’ll be sent to is the one when i’m alone with you.” his eyes flickering up to you as he puts the parchment back into his pocket before he continued to speak. “i’d give you my life, and I have. there is no sweeter innocence then seeing my darling y/n.” his vows short but powerful, a telling of how devoted he was.

#jj talks #take me to church #hozier #eris vandaddy #high lord eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of wings and ruin #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses

[eddiemunsonssoulmate]

♠ Eddie Munson Masterlist ♠

I’ve fallen so deep into the Eddie hole there’s no sun down here so here’s my masterlist in case you wanna join me in my little hole.

♣ Eddie x Reader ♣

Mostly one shots and longer fics are here. If it’s a series/multichapter it’ll have it’s own little masterlist on here too.

• The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you || Smut

You and Eddie have some time to spare before D&D starts. It escalates quite quickly.

• Strange Love | Part 1 | Part 2  || Smut, Fluff, Angst

The popular girl mingling with the school’s freak should have been outrageous. Yet you chose him as a quick escape from reality because he seemed to be the only person able to give you what you needed. You had no idea that the escape he offered you would turn into something so much more complicated.

•  Wanna piss off your parents? ||

You asked Eddie to date you to piss off your parents. It works better than expected.

comin soon

•  Master of puppets I’m pulling your strings || Smut

He always acts like a king when he’s playing D&D, this time sitting on his throne and grinning at you without any shame as he almost killed off your character. Time for payback.

•  I just fell in love, you should try it, it's a hell of a drug ||

tba

•  You are my strange addiction ||

tba

•  Roll the dice || Fluff

You didn’t understand the appeal of this fantasy game until he took the time to teach you the basics and now you’re loving it

coming soon

•  The Devil Doesn’t Bargain || Angst, Fluff

You and Eddie are best friends, he is always there for you if you need him. One day you knock at his door after you went back to your abusive Ex the night before.

• Say you'll still be by my side || Hurt & Comfort, Canon Divergent

Eddie made it out of the Upside Down, barely alive. He’s in a coma now but you refuse to let him go.

• The Song of the Sea || Alternative Universe - Pirate & Princess, Hurt & Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Smut

What would happen if a princess who wants to escape her golden cage of royalty finds herself in the arms of a pirate who is not just yearning for the sea anymore? You’ve been trapped inside the castle all your life, only dreaming about adventures and true love. He had always been a child of the sea, but something was missing in his life. You had no idea that this man, who you met by pure accident, would change the course of your life forever. Or maybe it was fate, about to meddle with your life like a puppet master playing the strings?

♣ Eddie x Reader Blurbs/Requests ♣

Small blurbs I come up with that aren’t really long enough to fit in the above category or request from you guys. If you want to request something, check my FAQ, it might help you and me out.

•  Emergency Kiss

Andy wouldn’t leave you alone until an opportunity to escape his begging came along.

• Tattoos and community pools

The Hellfire Club is as the community pool. You and Eddie have been dating in secret for a short time and he finds something on your skin that has him all hot and bothered.

•  Special piercings

Eddie notices your piercings for the first time.

• Thunderstorm Love

The thunderstorm might have ruined chilling in the boat in the middle of lover’s lake but it lead to some other interesting things.

•  A Little Unsteady

Eddie has no idea why you’re avoiding him and everyone else so he decides to check on you, not knowing you’re currently fighting your demons.

• I’ve got you, brother.

What really happened with Eddie in the Upside Down.

Canon divergent fix it fic.

• All the whispers in my ear

After Eddie barely survived the attack in the Upside Down, he has his own way of dealing with his trauma and you’re not a fan of it.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things fanfic