#reader requests
Note
Sissy- I’m so excited you reached your 500 follower mark. You’re very talented and I love sharing this little Elvisey corner with you. ✨
This photo of him is gorgeous and dreamy and sort of gives me Sissy poetry vibes. I’ll trust you to create whatever feels good to you. A little smutty, a little fluffy, whatever tickles your fancy dear 🖤
Thank you for being who you are 😘
@lookingforrainbows Awww you're the best! Thank you! Love you sweet friend!
I might've gotten a little carried away with this one, but you said poetry, so here you go...
Just the Two of Us
Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, kissing, fingering, o in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, public(ish) sex, and some really indulgent purple prose
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"We're married."
"I know." You look at your new husband and you're in absolute awe. How did you get so lucky? As you walk hand in hand on the beach, you can't believe this is actually your life. You're married. And not just to any man. You managed to land the most famous man on the planet, but more than that, you love him more than you ever thought possible.
He stops and turns you toward him, wrapping his arms around your waist. The wind blows through both of your hair as the sun begins to set over the water. He leans in and plants a gentle kiss on your cheek.
"I love you so much, baby." He coos into your ear. You can't help but smile at his obsession with telling you how much he loves you as often as possible. This is probably the tenth time he's said it since you've been walking up and down the beach. "Let's lay down."
You spread out the towels you've been carrying this whole time, take off your gauzy white cover-up, and settle on the sand, lying on your stomach. He lays next to you, propped up on one elbow to look at you.
"Do you know how beautiful you are?" He says with a sly smile.
"I'm starting to believe it. It's hard not to when you say it so often."
"I just want you to see yourself the way I see you, baby." He runs his fingertips down your cheek and leans in and kisses you again. Then, he looks out over the waves and surveys the beach around you. It's deserted, but of course it is since this is a private beach reserved just for your condo.
You're soaking in the last of the evening rays when you feel him fiddling with the strings on the side of your bikini bottoms. Your eyes pop open as he pulls on one and it comes untied.
"Elvis. What are you doing?"
"Nothing. Just... playing..." He reaches across to your other side and pulls on that one too until it falls open.
"Elvis..." He slides his hand under the back of your swimsuit and takes a handful of your ass, squeezing it gently. The sound of the waves crashing fades into the distance as his hand drifts a little lower, his finger tracing the edges of your entrance. He moves his fingertip to your clit and begins to make slow circles. Without meaning to, you lift your hips and spread your legs a little. He knows this signal and pulls his hand back to press his middle finger into you.
"Mmm... Elvis we're on the beach."
"So? There's no one around for miles. It's just you and me, baby." He pumps his finger in and out of you and you moan softly.
"But still." He pulls his finger back.
"You want me to stop?"
"No!" He smiles and presses his finger into you again, using his pointer finger to rub on your sensitive button. He leans forward and presses his lips to your shoulder as he continues to play with you.
"I just want to please my wife on our honeymoon. Is that bad?" He adds a second finger to press inside you and continues to drag his other fingertip across your clit quickly.
"No... it's so good..." You can't help but moan as he works you with his hand. You feel your release building as he moves on you. His ability to bring you to a climax with just three fingers will never cease to amaze you. The pressure continues to build in your center and he stops pumping his fingers to focus on your clit. He moves his fingertip over and around you and the blood rushes to your core. "Fuck, Elvis!"
You try not to scream as your orgasm slams into you, spreading you open right there on the beach and burning you up like starlight. Everything is warm and pulsing and all you see is his smile. He knows how he's made you feel and it's all he wants. But there's one more thing he needs.
"Can I make love to you on this beach, baby? I need you... right now..."
Everything inside you is warm, sensuous honey, so the thought of saying no doesn't even cross your mind.
"Yes, please." He kicks his pants off, pulls off his shirt, and rolls over on top of your back, discarding your open bikini bottom. You spread your legs just enough for him to find your entrance with the tip of his rock hard cock. He pushes into you slowly from behind, filling you inch by gasp-inspiring inch. When he's got you fully stretched around him, he pulls almost all the way out and thrusts into you deeply again. He begins a steady rhythm of rolling his hips into you, pumping into you as you try not to make too much noise. You're up on your elbows with your ass raised to give him the best angle. He kisses your shoulder and then slips a hand up under the top of your bikini to play with your nipple. After a few more minutes of thrusting, he unties your top and takes that off of you as well. Now it's just you and him, naked together under the open sky, the sun setting over the water creating a kaleidoscope of cotton candy clouds reflected on the waves.
The places where your skin kisses his are lightning hot with passion and sweat. And his lips. He presses his lips to any place he can reach on your back as he continues to fill you with himself over and over again.
When he pulls out and rolls onto his back, you know exactly what to do. You've made love to him enough to know what he wants. You crawl on top of him, settling a knee on either side of his hips and sink down onto him. The change in angle makes you moan together in unison. Somewhere a dog barks, but you don't care as the wind brushes your nipples causing them to harden even more. He notices and reaches out with both hands to caress your breasts. The waves crest and break on the beach behind you as you move up and down on him, taking him as deeply as you can. The sun is just a sliver over the water, but the moon is full, replacing the purple and orange sunset with silvery beams and glittering stars. He looks at you like you've swallowed the moon, it's light emanating from every edge of you.
"You are the answer to every prayer I've ever spoken into the darkness." He whispers into the night. His hand finds your cheek and he drags his thumb across your lips. No one else on earth knows the poetry of your bond. But he breathes life into it every time he touches you. "I am whole because you exist."
You lean forward and lay on his chest as he thrusts slowly into you from underneath. He pulls you into a deep kiss, your tongues creating a medley of dance steps all their own. When the kiss ends, you whisper back to him.
"You are my sun. The center of my orbit. I am me because you are you." He kisses your cheek and smiles.
"The only thing that ever made sense to me was music. And now you're the only notes I hear." His voice is just for you in the inky black night. Your heartbeats match the rhythm of his thrusting and the waves pounding the beach.
"All I want is to be yours forever." You half-moan into his ear.
"You are mine, baby. And I'm yours. Until we ourselves are moonlight." He groans and closes his eyes.
Before you were married, your union would've ended now to prevent any too-soon consequences. But tonight, here on the beach as husband and wife, there's a longing from both of you to continue. Any uncertainty about the future is now replaced by hope. So he doesn't stop. Your movements create a tapestry of oneness and as he approaches his release, your pace is steady. It's an unspoken agreement, a covenant that doesn't need acknowledging.
"Oh, God, baby..." He moans, eyes closed and lips parted slightly. You look at him with endless admiration. He's almost angelic in this moment and you revel in his beauty as he tenses and then shudders into you. The warmth inside you is not just metaphorical and he fills you with everything he has. This is what it means to be joined forever.
"I love you. I love you. I love you." He whispers, his voice husky with post-climax emotion as he kisses your lips between each phrase. When he's finished and beginning to soften, you readjust to lay next to him. He rolls over to face you, tracing his fingertips along the outline of your body as gently as butterfly wings. There is no more separation between you. You don't end and he doesn't begin. You simply are, like pieces of tracing paper layered together to create a single image.
"My husband." You whisper, your fingertips gracing the side of his face with a kind of holy adoration.
"My wife." He replies, his eyes like oceans deep enough to contain you both.
You lay there under the summer moon, two naked souls bound together by a love beyond comprehension. Tomorrow will bring you back to a reality filled with concert dates and meetings. But tonight? Tonight is just for the two of you.
******
The End
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#elvis presley#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis fanfic#elvis#elvis presley fic#elvis smut#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley x y/n#elvis fic#elvis x y/n#elvis x you#elvis presley smut#elvis presley x you#reader requests
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congratulations on 3k followers!
would love to request Azriel x Reader (Fem!Reader if that’s okay with you), some good ole’ angst ending in fluff please!
Az knows reader is his soulmate and doesn’t say anything, reader either finds out because someone in the IC told her or the bond snaps for her, and she thinks Az didn’t tell her because he’s ashamed of her but really he’s ashamed of himself and thought reader wouldn’t want him.
I know this has been done before but I love seeing different versions of it and know yours would be amazing!!
The Shadowsinger’s Secret
Summary: After years spent trying to befriend the shadowsinger to no avail, you are finally ready to give up after accidentally overhearing him speak poorly of you. But when a gossip session exposes a life-changing secret, you realize you can’t let go of Azriel just yet.
Warnings: some miscommunication, fluff
A/n: Hope you enjoy this! Thanks for sending in a request and for your kind words!
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Meeting Mor at Rita’s during the time Velaris was warded and locked down had completely changed your life.
A close friendship had bloomed between the two of you. She introduced you to her two other friends, Cassian and Azriel, when she invited you to a dinner at the townhouse they all shared. After getting over the shock of meeting the fae so close to the High Lord, you were quick to make friends with them—or well, with Cassian at least.
Although Azriel didn’t seem like much of a talker in the first place, you began to notice the extra ways he would go about avoiding you. Quickly leaving a room with lousy excuses when you entered, avoiding eye contact when he did address you—like when he’d ask you to pass the potatoes since that was really the only time he talked to you, or pretending not to notice you when you would see him out and about in the city.
At first, you chalked it up to him being severely introverted and shy. Not to mention, all three of them were struggling with the fact that their brother and friend was stuck under the rule of Amarantha. It hurt your feelings, but you brushed it off, figuring he would open up to you over time. But that time never seemed to come even after Rhysand returned.
The first few months after Rhysand finally came home, you were quick to form a friendship with him despite him being your High Lord. You two shared similar traumas. You both had terrible fathers growing up. He had lost his sister, you had lost your brother—the reason you’d moved away from home to live here. But perhaps the best and most silly reason you got along so well was the fact that the two of you loved to gossip.
Even after making friends with both his brothers and Mor, Azriel did not warm up to you. He still avoided you. Still made sure to always sit at the other end of the table from you. Made sure to never be left in a room alone with you. And he would never be the one to offer to fly you up to the House of Wind, even when it would’ve been more convenient.
You were beginning to think maybe he just didn’t like you. And then those feelings were confirmed with the appearance of the Archeron sisters.
You had seen the way Azriel treated Elain, always offering to keep her company or escort her to places. He sat with her at dinners, listened to her talk about her hobbies, and even defended her when a bad word was said about her. Elain was easy to get along with, sure, but so were you. At least, you had thought you were. But Azriel was making you question everything you had ever thought of yourself.
He even became friends with Nesta, who had been nothing short of a viper when she first arrived in Velaris. That was when you finally let go of the notion of ever being his friend, ever getting him to even so much as look your way. He didn’t like you. For whatever reason, a reason you were too scared to ask the others about, he didn’t like you.
You had gone to such great lengths to be his friend. Gave him presents on Winter Solstice, brought his favorite treats from the bakery to leave in the kitchen for him every sunday, tried to converse with him during dinners, included him whenever you invited the group out for drinks. You had tried your hardest and it had been met with pure apathy. You eventually found out that he wouldn’t even eat any of the treats you brought, leaving them all for Cassian.
That really drove the nail into the coffin. He didn’t even want to touch something because it had been from you. It hurt more than you’d like to admit.
You were currently making your way to Rhys’s office for a meeting about how your mentorship with Madja was going but more importantly, to share the hot gossip you’d heard when two voices caught your attention.
You paused in your tracks when you heard your name mentioned, glancing at the closed door to Rhys’s personal library.
“You should at least try and talk to her, Azriel.”
“You don’t understand, Elain.” You heard Azriel respond. “I can’t.”
“It’s not fair that you're making judgements without even knowing her. She’s pretty, she’s kind—Y/n is a great girl!”
Your heart was wildly beating in your chest, both panic and nausea turning over your stomach.
“I do know her and she’s not. She's not pretty or kind. She’s not a great girl, she’s—”
You fled before you could hear the rest of Azriel’s response, tears burning in your eyes, chest tight.
So none of it had been in your head. Azriel truly disliked you. You didn’t know what you did to offend him or make him hate you.
You swallowed, thickly, wiping away the tears that had slid down your cheeks, trying to compose yourself before you entered Rhys’s office. The last thing you wanted was for him to ask you why you were upset.
But you could do nothing about the nausea in your stomach, or the hoarse feeling in your throat that made it hard to swallow. Maybe you’d just drop off the report and scurry home before anyone noticed something was wrong.
You pushed open the door to his office, keeping your eyes on the floor as you entered and shut it behind you.
“Ah, Y/n, just the person I was waiting for! You will not believe what I heard Nesta telling—” You looked up when Rhys paused to see him staring at you with concern. “Y/n, what’s the matter? Why do you look so upset?”
“N-nothing,” you choked out, striding forward and setting your report on his desk. “I’m just a bit tired today. Think I’m going to head home and take a nap.”
Rhysand stared down at the folder on his desk with a frown before leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Bullshit.”
“Excuse me?!”
“I’m calling bullshit, Y/n,” Rhys said, looking at you with a stern expression that was normally reserved for when Nyx acted up. “You stay out all night long with Mor all the time and you’ve never skipped out on our talks! What happened? Did someone hurt you? Who do we have to beat up?”
You shook your head with a small laugh that sounded as hollow as you felt. “Seriously, Rhys, I’m fine. Nothing happened. I really am just tired.”
He studied you before nodding at the chair in front of his desk with his chin. “Sit.”
You bristled at him using his High Lord’s voice to get you to obey, reluctantly taking a seat in the armchair. He didn’t seem bothered by the glare you were sending his way.
“This is hardly necessary,” you argued.
“You’re not leaving this room until you tell me why you walked into my office looking like a little, downtrodden puppy.”
“Gee, thanks,” you scoffed at his comparison. “Like I said, nothing is wrong!”
Rhys only quirked an eyebrow at you and you let out a noise of frustration. “Fine! Look, I just overheard some people talking about me and not all of it was…
pleasant, okay? That’s all.”
“Who?” Rhys barked out. “What were they even saying? You’re the most harmless person I know.”
You rolled your eyes at his remark.
“No one important and besides, people are allowed to have negative feelings about me,” you sniffed. “Even if it hurts to hear.”
“If it was no one important then you wouldn’t be upset. And no one is allowed to have negative opinions about any of my friends except for me,” Rhys leaned back in his chair and kicked up his feet on his desk before giving you a very feline smile.
You snorted. “Yeah, well, what if it was one of your friends I overheard?”
You regretted those words as soon as they came out of your mouth.
Rhys perked up. “If it was Cassian, don’t pay him any mind. He’s just mad you beat him at poker last week.”
“It wasn’t Cassian. It was Azriel,” you sighed.
Rhys was silent for a moment before he burst into laughter. Your mouth dropped open at his audacity.
“It’s not funny! I’ve spent years trying to be his friend! I don’t know why he hates me so much.”
“It’s funny because I know Azriel would never talk shit about you. He doesn’t even talk shit about the people he does hate and he most certainly does not hate you,” he chuckled. “I don’t know what you overheard but it must be a misunderstanding.”
“It wasn’t!”
“Alright, show me.”
You felt dark claws tap on your mental shield and you let him in after some slight hesitation, letting him view your most recent memory.
“Hm,” Rhys mused when he was done. “I’m not convinced. You should’ve stuck around to hear what he said.”
Hearing Azriel’s words in your head again caused a new round of tears. You tried to hold them back, sniffling but it was no use. Rhys sat up straight when he realized just how upset you were.
“Y/n, please don’t cry. I promise you Azriel does not hate you. I know how awful that sounded but I really think—”
“He does! He’s never liked me! I’ve tried so hard to be his friend, Rhys, and he always ignores me or pretends I’m not there. Every time I try to talk to him he gives me one word answers and runs away with any excuse like he can’t even stand to be around me! I don’t know what I did to make him hate me so much or think I’m an awful person.”
You wiped away the tears on your cheeks, bitterly.
“Azriel’s just…shy,” Rhys said, weakly. “Give him some time to warm up to you.”
“I’ve known him for over fifty years now, Rhys! Hell, he’s already friends with Elain and Nesta and they’ve barely been living here for two years. I think if he wanted to be my friend, it would’ve happened already. He just doesn’t like me!”
The door to Rhys’s office opened right after you finished talking and you stiffened as Cassian strode in.
“Oh, hey, Y/n, I didn’t know you were in here,” Cassian greeted as he shut the door behind him. He stopped in his tracks once he noticed your tears and Rhys’s grimace. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
You groaned, dropping your face into your hands with embarrassment.
“Y/n is under the impression that Azriel hates her.”
“No, I know he hates me,” you said, voice muffled.
Cassian’s booming laughter filled the office, making you sink further down in the chair. What the hell was so funny about this?
“You think Azriel hates you?” Cassian asked in between his laugh. “Y/n, that is ridiculous! He could never hate you. You’re his mate—”
“Cassian!” Rhys rose, slamming his hands down on his desk.
Your head sprung up.
“What…what did you just say?”
Rhys let out a sigh, pinging the bridge of his nose. “Gods damn it, Cassian. Y/n…you weren’t supposed to find out this way. I’m so sorry—”
“Azriel is my mate and he knows? He told you guys but not me? Why…”
Why? Of course you knew why! He never told you because he didn’t want you as his mate. All the air in the room was sucked out, your face turned hot, your ears started ringing. Your mate didn’t want you. Your Mother-blessed mate didn’t want you. You shot up out of your seat, rushing to the door.
“Y/n, wait!”
But you didn’t stop.
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“It’s better this way,” Azriel sighed. “She deserves better than me. She deserves someone as good as her as a mate. She could never want someone like me—I’m not good enough for her.”
“You should at least try and talk to her, Azriel,” Elain replied.
“You don’t understand, Elain. I can’t.”
Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t talk to you because the mating bond might snap in place and then you’d be chained to him forever and that was just not fair to you. You deserved so much more.
“It’s not fair that you're making judgements without even knowing her. She’s pretty, she’s kind—Y/n is a great girl!”
“I do know her and she’s not. She's not pretty or kind. She’s not a great girl, she’s a saint. She’s not just pretty, she is the most beautiful girl in the world and she’s so much more than just kind. She’s good unlike me. I’ve…I’ve done so many bad things. I’m tainted and if I allow myself to be with her, I’ll ruin her.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself, Azriel,” Elain sighed. “Besides, shouldn’t Y/n be the one to decide for herself if you’re good enough for her? Me and Lucien didn’t get off to a great start but at least he was honest with me.”
Azriel’s wings drooped to the floor. “You’re…right. It’s not fair to her that I’ve been keeping this a secret all these years. But I don’t want her to feel forced to be with me.”
“She is smart, Azriel, and can handle herself. If she doesn’t want you, I’m sure she’ll be honest about that. But you won’t know until you try. And as much as I love listening to you talk about her—I think I can speak for all of us when I say that you should stop saying this stuff to us and start saying it to her! She probably thinks you hate her with how much you avoid her!”
Azriel’s chest ached at that thought. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you which is why he stayed away.
“But—”
“No more buts, Azriel,” Elain said, sternly. “Tell her before she finds out some other way like Feyre did. You know how much that upset her. Rhys is lucky my sister is so forgiving.”
Azriel swallowed thickly, but rose to his feet. It was about time he faced this, about time he stopped trying to hold his mate at arms length. Even if he felt like he didn’t deserve you, you deserved to know the truth.
“Okay. You’re right. You’ve all been right and I’ve been a coward. She deserves the truth.”
Elain smiled, nodding her head. “Good luck, Azriel. Just remember if she seems reluctant at first, don’t take it to heart. It took all of us some time before we warmed up to our mates.”
He gave her a dip of his head before leaving the library to start his search for his mate. What he didn’t expect was you to come barreling down the hallway with tears pouring from your eyes. His stomach turned over at the sight and he quickly stopped you in her path, grabbing you by the shoulders.
“Y/n, what’s wrong—”
Your eyes widened as you stared up at him.
“D-don’t,” you cried out, shrugging out of his grip. “Please, don’t touch me.”
And then you were off again, disappearing around the corner. He stood frozen in place, debating if he should run after you. But you clearly didn’t want to talk to him. And it was all his fault—the distance he had put between the two of you.
He made his way to Rhys’s office, pushing aside the urge to run after his mate and find out why you were so upset and who he needed to hurt for causing your tears.
When he entered, he immediately knew something was wrong. Cassian was staring at him with pure guilt in his eyes while Rhys stood behind his desk, frowning.
“Azriel, I’m so sorry,” Cassian choked out.
“Sorry about what?”
Cassian rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he wanted to ground to swallow him whole. “I might’ve told Y/n that you're her mate.”
“You what,” Azriel growled.
Cassian glanced at Rhys who decided to jump in before a war broke out in his office. “Honestly, Azriel, it’s your fault for keeping it from her. She was in here crying because she thinks you hate her. I was trying to convince her you don’t when Cassian walked in and let it slip.”
“You’re one to talk,” Azriel spat out. “You hid your mating bond from Feyre too.”
“Not for over fifty years! I would’ve told her if she hadn’t found out. I withheld that information for a few months and look how that turned out. How do you think Y/n will feel knowing you hid it from her for over fifty years!”
Azriel’s wings slumped, his shadows whirling around him in distress. Just the idea of you being hurt by him was enough to make him want to bash his head into the wall. “She deserves better.”
“You’re right. She deserves you,” Cassian said, gently, nudging him with his shoulder. “Maybe this was the push you needed, Az, to finally talk to her.”
Azriel sighed, bowing his head in shame. “I know, I know. And I will—I will go talk to her.”
“I recommend starting with an apology,” Rhys joked but Azriel was hardly paying attention, already sending out his shadows to find his upset mate.
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You were sitting on a hill that overlooked Velaris, running your fingers through the grass. This day had gone from bad to absolutely dreadful in the matter of a few minutes and now you were left reeling with the information that Azriel was your mate. A mate that had kept the bond secret from you. A mate that obviously didn’t want you.
He had said so to Elain. He didn’t think you were pretty or kind or great. It all made sense now, how much he had avoided you in the past. He didn’t want you to figure it out, didn’t want the bond to snap for you. You let out a sigh, drawing your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on them.
A light breeze of wind ruffled your hair forward as someone appeared behind you. You didn’t bother turning around, already recognizing that familiar smell of cedar and night-chilled mist. Cassian must’ve let him know that the cat was out of the bag and now Azriel was likely here to beg you to reject him.
“You know, I’ve lived in Velaris nearly my whole life but I’ve never been up here before today.” Azriel’s deep voice broke the silence. “That’s a beautiful view of the city.”
“I know,” you answered, quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. “It’s why I come up here.”
“Do you come here often?” His voice was closer this time and his shadows began to whisk through your hair and under your arms, much like they always did when in your presence.
“Only when I’m upset,” you sighed, blinking away more tears.
There was a moment of silence before Azriel spoke again. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I did not intend for you to find out about the bond that way.”
“It’s alright,” you said, weakly. “It must’ve been hard finding out your mate is someone you don’t want. I know you’re here to ask me to reject it. I will do as you ask so you can continue on with your life.”
“No,” Azriel spit out quickly, stumbling closer to you. “No, I’m not here to ask you to reject it. I’m here to explain myself…I hate that this has made you so upset.”
He sat down next to you, mimicking your position. You kept your gaze forward, scared to see what you might find if you looked at him. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Azriel. I get it. I, um, I overheard you talking about me to Elain.”
“Rhys showed me what you overheard,” Azriel said, his wings flexing before the one closest to you curled around your form to block the wind. “I wish you had stayed just a second longer, Y/n, because I truly was not saying anything bad about you. I would never—”
“If that’s true then what were you doing? What did you mean when you said I wasn’t pretty or kind or great? What could that possibly mean other than what it seems to?”
“I said that because it’s true. You’re not pretty or kind or great, Y/n. You are beautiful, the most beautiful girl to ever step foot in this world. And you’re not just kind, you’re so much more than that. You are good. You have the heart of a true angel. You are so much more than those three words can describe. I never kept the bond from you because I didn’t want you. I kept it a secret because you deserve someone better,” Azriel confessed.
“And you don’t think you can be that someone for me, Azriel? You’re my Mother-given mate! You want to know something? I’ve always dreamt about finding my mate one day. Hoped that I would get to experience a love like that in my lifetime. And to find out—”
Your voice cracked, tears sliding down your cheeks.
“Please, don’t cry,” Azriel pleaded, taking your chin in his grasp, and turning your head to face him. He cupped your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears. “I longed for the day I would find my mate. But when I finally found you after all these years, I…I didn’t know how to wrap my head around the fact that the Mother blessed me with you. You are so much more than I ever dreamed of. You are all that is good in this world. You bring happiness to every room you walk in. You’re smart. You’re beautiful. The last thing I wanted was to drag you down by shackling you to me.”
“What if it is you that I want? What if I want you to be that person? Did you ever consider that might be a possibility? Because let me tell you something, Azriel. You say I’m more than you ever dreamed of, but you are exactly who I’ve been dreaming of all these years. Someone calm, someone patient, someone good of heart. Someone I can feel safe around. Someone I can call home. What would you say to that?”
“Then I might say you’re an idiot for wanting me,” Azriel chuckled, still stroking your cheeks with his thumbs, staring down at you with those beautiful hazel eyes. “But then I’d probably get down on my knees and beg you for a second chance. To let me prove to you that you have my heart and soul. You have since the day I laid eyes on you.”
You stared up at him, eyes wide with your vulnerability. “And if I agreed to give you a second chance, what would you say?”
“I would say be ready by seven tonight so I can take you out and show you what a girl like you deserves,” Azriel breathed out. “What would you say to that?”
You laughed, the ache in your chest finally soothed. “I would say yes.”
Azriel smiled, a rare and breathtaking sight, before he stood and reached out a hand to help you off the ground. “Good. I was hoping you’d say that.”
You smiled back at him before finally taking his hand.
#acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel#acotar x reader#acotar x you#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel shadowsinger#azriel fanfic#azriel acotar#azriel angst#azriel fluff#reader requests
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Hi, how are you?
I was wondering if you could write something like "Dean reads you wrong" but with Sam Please
Hey, lovely!
I'm doing well, thank you. 💜 I hope you are too! Hmm, I'm still working through my current bank of requests, but since "Dean reads you wrong" is so fresh, it got me thinking about how Sam would go about this...
Pairing: Sam Winchester x F. Reader
Summary: It's hard for Sam to admit he wants you...when he thinks you might want his brother.
Song Inspo: "If You're Gone" by Matchbox Twenty
Word Count: 1,600
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, fear of unrequited love, mutual pining
Imagine: Sam reads you wrong.
When Sam falls for someone, he's...well, what he would call self-aware.
But also cautious.
He knows his own track record with women. He knows the life he leads, and has resigned himself to giving up most kinds of normalcy or domesticity.
And maybe, a part deep in the back of his brain has given up on the idea of love.
That's why it's so damn confounding...how you've managed to take him by surprise.
He's always been able to rely on you. Whether it's sharing the brunt of the research with him when Dean loses focus, or staying up with Sam on late nights, sharing mugs of tea and quiet conversation, bonding over familiar tastes in books, and '90s grunge music, of all things.
You also confessed to him, late one night, that you have a growing collection of mugs, fuzzy socks, and vinyl records, despite the fact that your record player has collected more dust than the bunker's old storage room.
You're wonderfully weird.
And you're unfailingly loyal to who you consider "your people." And Sam thinks (knows) he's fortunate enough to be included in that small circle.
Sam also knows, deep in his gut, no matter how much he tries to "rationalize" it away, that you're special. And special to him.
You've managed to do more than just slip under his skin. When he thinks too hard on it, he can admit it (just to himself). You've infiltrated all four corners of his heart so deeply, he doesn't have a prayer of scooping you out.
Some days, it's all he can do not to reach out while you're chatting away, filling the silence.
He can picture it like a scene in his mind: of interrupting your mouth with a gentle hand on your cheek, tilting your face up to his and showing you, with or without words, that he wants you...
And yet.
He can't help but watch how you are with Dean.
You two tease each other, bicker and gripe over coffee grinds left in the coffee pot and who ate the last of the leftovers. You fight with Dean over the remote on movie night (once, damn near smothering him with a pillow).
But you also dote on him, making sure Dean has one of his favorite desserts every time you go out to buy groceries. You swap his beer out for water when he's not looking. (And though Dean frowns and grumbles, he doesn't argue with your raised brow and imploring look.)
It's not quite flirting, but it's not quite platonic either—at least in Sam's eyes. You and Dean seem to have something.
And sometimes, your playful banter with his brother makes Sam sick to his stomach.
Like today, when Sam’s sitting at the kitchen table reading while you're making a cup of tea. The silence between you two is amiable, like usual.
Sam steals a glance at you and has to smile.
"Going with purple polka dots today?" he asks.
You look over with knitted brows of confusion, until you follow his gaze. You laugh sheepishly and wiggle your toes through your fuzzy socks.
"The floor is cold as hell," you defend yourself.
Sam's smile deepens a fraction as he turns back to his book.
"They're cute," he adds.
You turn your face to hide your blush. The mild thunder of heavy boots announces Dean's presence as he pops into the kitchen.
"Oh good, you're cooking. What's for dinner?" he asks. You turn to give him a familiar narrowed look.
"Who says I'm cooking?" you counter.
"Well, you're doing something on the stove..." Dean peers over and catches a whiff of the concoction you're brewing. He grimaces. "Second thought, I'm good. That smells like ass, whatever it is."
You roll your eyes at him. "It's just green tea, Dean. You know, health?"
He levels a deadpan expression at you as he opens up the pantry.
"I see your 'health' and I raise you...Doritos," he says. He digs his hand into the bag he's just pilfered and crunches a mouthful in your face. You can't help but splutter a laugh and push Dean away.
"You're ridiculous. If you catch a heart attack at 50, don't come crying to me."
"Hey, at least I'll die happy."
"Oh, right. A silver lining there. I'd hate to see what your arteries look like," you tease.
"Has anyone told you that you're unsavory?" Dean asks, continuing to crunch with an open mouth.
You smirk. "Is that your way of calling me sweet?"
He snorts. "Sure, sweetheart. We'll call it that."
"You know, I'm not your sweetheart," you point out.
Dean discreetly glances his brother's way with a sly glint in his eyes. Sam doesn't see it; by now he's trying his damndest to keep his eyes in his book and ignore the way his stomach is clenching, chest tightening.
Dean shifts his attention back at you and reaches down to brush your chin with his thumb.
"Not yet, but you could be," he says, in a flirtatious edge that he's never quite taken with you.
You're wide-eyed for a moment. In the end, though, you choose to take it as teasing. You push his hand away and give him an annoyed look.
"God, you're such a clown. Order a pizza if you're that hungry," you rejoin, and you pour two mugs of freshly brewed tea. "I won't even bother offering you one."
"Nope," Dean says, popping the "p." He walks out of the kitchen, giving Sam a firm slap on the back. Sam coughs and shoots his brother a frown.
Dean has the gall to wink at him before he walks out. Like he's having his own little private joke.
Well, Sam isn't laughing. He stares down hard at his book. He tries to ignore everything he just heard and saw out of the corner of his eye.
It becomes too much. He takes up his book and heads out of the kitchen.
He just doesn't see the way you frown as he walks away. There you stand, left holding two mugs of tea for you and him.
Sam returns to his room for a while. He's not hiding. He's...reading.
There's a knock at his door, and if it's Dean, he swears he's going to open his mouth and tell his brother to leave him the hell alone, like he's some kind of moody teen.
But it's you.
"Hey," you greet, after the door creaks open. Sam softens.
"Hey," he says, clearing his throat. "What's up?"
"You," you reply. You bring him his hot mug of tea and set it down on the desk where he sits.
"Thanks," he says.
You nod and place your mug beside his (Lord of the Rings themed, of course), and cross your arms as you lean against his desk.
Sam turns toward you in his chair. His hands rest on his thighs. His gaze travels back up to your face as he tries to keep his neutral, but welcoming to whatever you want to ask him. (He buries his heart deep, as he instinctively does whenever you're near him.)
"You okay?" you ask. Your brows furrow the longer you gaze down at him. Just staring, like you know he's hiding something. Like you can see straight into him, into the shadows where he keeps most of his thoughts of you.
This is perhaps the only area of his life where he's a coward.
"Yeah, I'm good," Sam replies, in a tone that suggests, Why wouldn't I be?
You quirk a smile. "Why don't I believe you?"
Sam swallows. For once, he's not sure what to say to you.
"You know you can talk to me, right?" you say softly. You take a subtle step into his orbit, almost between his open legs. Your demeanor says that you'd gladly listen, do whatever he asked of you. Because you're just that kind.
Sam's mouth twitches upward. "I know. I'm fine, really."
"You're fine, or you're Winchester fine?" you raise a brow.
Sam chuckles then, showing a flash of his smile. It lightens you.
"Maybe a bit of the second one," he admits.
You smile and inch closer, resting a hand on his shoulder.
"Yeah? Tell me," you say. Your voice is soft, but not quite a whisper.
It leads Sam to sigh. He grasps your hand where it lies on his shoulder. For a moment, he debates internally. He realizes then that Dean's antics earlier might've been more than just teasing. Maybe it was a subtle nudge—to stop wasting time.
Damn it, just do something, Sam thinks.
When you squeeze his hand back, it's just the small push he needs. He glances up at you.
Then he takes your hand and holds it between both of his, with care. He tugs you forward, surprising you as you step forward between his legs. Your mouth parts in soft surprise when he reaches a hand up to your cheek.
You still look surprised, blushing up to your ears, but you're not pulling away. In fact, your widened gaze moves from his eyes to his lips.
Sam smiles. He tugs you down to him and enacts a living daydream, finally kissing you with everything he has. Everything he’s had locked inside.
You respond to his mouth in kind; the subtle gasp of breath against his lips sharply cuts off as you sink into his kiss. Your trembling hand comes to his cheek, grazing the dull prickle of stubble. When your fingers dive into his hair next, it’s his turn to take a deep breath.
With each new kiss, he explores more of you. His hands find your waist, and he gathers you against his chest. You find purchase on his strong shoulders and give into the opportunity to straddle his hips, sitting in his lap while he continues to make your heartbeat wild in your chest.
Sam slows the kiss, only because his brain is starting to catch up with his heart. He wants to see your face, to make sure this is what you want.
He finds that and more when he looks up at you.
He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, tenderly brushing his thumb against your cheek.
"Does that answer your question?" he asks, with a soft laugh. You join him and press your forehead against his.
"I don't know,” you tease. Your eyes are dancing, both with amusement and relief. Because your heart has wanted this for even longer than Sam's.
You lean back in to whisper close to his lips. “Maybe I need a little more clarity."
Sam takes you at your word.
AN: It's been a long time since I've written for Sam! 💜 I got in another request for him a while ago. I may dust that one off soon... Until then, let me know what you think of this!
(And don't worry. I didn't forget about the Soldier Boy imagine I promised. That will come out at the end of this week, most likely!)
Read Dean's version: "Dean reads you wrong."
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hiii
Can you do Velvette x insecure reader? (any gender(s))
I Don't Deserve You
Velvette x insecure reader
Note: A short but wholesome one!!!
Word count: 647
Velvette had met Y/n around three years ago. The sinner hadn't been in hell for long when she stumbled upon them. They weren't the prettiest nor the strongest demon, actually they were pretty weak but something pulled Velvette to them. One thing led to another and they started dating.
To say her colleagues hated their new-found love was an understatement, Vox and Val hated her new partner. Velvette would dote on them, buy them new clothes and show them of on all her socials. According to Vox letting the public know about her relationship with a weak sinner would be bad for their image. One time he had even tried to hypnotise them to break up but his plan fell through.
Val on the other hand didn't like their looks and though that Velvette could do WAY better and he took every opportunity to let her know. Once he even brought in one of his contracts that was the same type of sinner, they, however, were smoking hot. Velvette actually dared to slap the Vee in the face for that one.
She always reassured her partner that they were perfect. Still, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they didn’t belong by her side.
On one hellish afternoon, Y/n laid on their shared bed and scrolled through their girlfriend's sinstagram. It showed a picture of the two of them in matching beachwear. Velvette stood by the parasol on the right while Y/n stood hunched over, looking through the cool box. The caption read: 'Two bitches at the beach, look out suckers! This ass is mine!'
They laughed looking back at their fun date. Scrolling down through the comments, they saw the usual replies:
Valentino_PIMP: We use the same swimwear line in the NEW angel dust porno, sluts!!
VoxTech_OFFICIAL: Line available on our online shop! Buy today, delivered tomorrow!!
Tiffany-PORNS: HOT!!! Ordering RIGHT NOW!!!❤️❤️❤️~
All of famous denizens, friends and colleagues. The usual but when they scrolled down, they came across these;
DoomBoom-482: Velvette hot as ever. Dont undorstand why shes whith that ugly.
Angel_FUCKER69: EEWWW!!! I didn’t want to see that 🤢
BAZUKAbAbY: we should just kill that bastard, they dont deserve our queen
Comment after comment, hating them. Tears filled their eyes as they read more and more.
Velvette walked into her apartment already angry, she couldn’t wait to complain to her partner about her shitty ass day. Valentino had ripped apart one of her best models on this busy fucking day.
She saw Y/n laying on the bed as she spoke, "you'll never guess what Valentino did today. Like I could just KILL him for thi-" She quickly cut herself off as she saw their puffy eyes stare at her. "What happened?"
"I-uhm..."
She jumped on the bed and laid down next to them. "What are you looking at? Show me." Velvette looked at the post, reading through all the comments. "You don't actually believe their bs?"
"Y-yes," they sniffed, "I don't deserve you... You are amazing, beautiful, smart, witty and I'm... Me."
"And you are THE BEST THING that EVER happened to me! There is no demon in hell that could make me laugh like you do! No one that can lift me up pike you do! No one who can make pancakes like you do!" She hugged them. "Everyone else are just shitstains!!! Without you, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy hell as much as I do now."
"Really?"
"Really, besides do you really think those basement dwelling, internet trolls would understand someone as fabulous as you and me?" Velvette kissed the top of their head.
"No."
"Then there is nothing to worry about. I love you and you love me. That's all that matters." She picked up her phone and looked through her liked pics. "Now I saw this really cute trend where couples choose each other's fits, wanna try?"
"Let's do it!!!"
Masterlist/request guidelines
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel requests#reader insert#reader requests#request#hazbin hotel velvette#hazbin velvette#velvette x reader#velvette x you#velvet hazbin hotel
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Could I please request Thranduil with a breeding kink with the lavender field prompt? 🔥🔥 thank you so much!! Your writings lift my spirits!
Here you go!
"Lavender Haze"
Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (elf/second person POV) | Location: Greenwood the great
Themes: Smut | Soft
Warnings: Kissing | Explicit language | Mild dirty talk | Breeding kink | Sex in an open field | Penetrative sex | Rough sex | Cream pie
Word count: 1.6k words
Summary : A game of hide of seek take place in a lavender field. What price will the loser have to pay?
Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume
Rules and tag form here | Prompts for requests here
A lavender haze.
That was all you could see in the periphery of your vision—an endless haze of the richest lavender swaying with the wind. The blooms rustled, murmuring with a hushed voice of their own every time the wind rose. It was sheer happenstance when you came across this field of wild lavender. Thrilled with this new find, you made haste to ride back to Amon Lanc and tell its prince. Thranduil listened with rapt attention and insisted that you take him there. No one knew of such a field, and he wanted to see it with his own eyes.
The prince came. And he saw. And believed. And a merry chase then ensued. No one besides the two of you knew of this little slice of paradise, and Thranduil wanted to make the most of it. Others would learn of the field's existence soon enough, and the opportunities to be alone within it would grow sparse.
You ran and ducked behind tall bushes. Hid behind the thick trunks of gnarled trees with branches so low they kissed the soft grass that grew beneath them. And Thranduil chased you still, calling out for you and searching for you, the heady rush of the chase working its magic on him.
"Where are you, meleth?"
You clapped your hands over your mouth and kept still. Thranduil was close to the oak tree you were hiding behind. You could not hear his footsteps; the prince moved like a wraith, not making a single sound. You press against the bark of the tree, wondering if he heard you or if he knew where you were hiding.
"Meleth?"
It was as if he were further away now, but you keep yourself concealed anyway. When it sounded as if he had moved quite a distance, you peered around the tree, pleased to find him no longer there. You take off again, giggling and smug, confident you have thrown him off your trail.
"There you are!" Thranduil ran in from behind and threw his arms around you. He cackled when you squealed and squirmed and tried to free yourself from his hold. His moving away from where you were had just been a sly trick. He was there the entire time, hidden, waiting for you to come out into the open.
"Th-thranduil!" Giddy laughter ripped through you when you tried and tried, and he simply continued to carry you deeper into the field. "Let g-go!"
"No!" Thranduil's laughter mirrored yours. He listened to you grumble and plot your escape, and laughed again, louder this time. "Yield, meleth. Escape is futile. Surely you know this by now."
"Never!" That never lasted no more than a few moments, when you realized you would not be able to extricate yourself from his vise-like grip no matter how hard you tried. You give up and go limp against him.
Thranduil sets you down amidst fragrant purple blooms. "Now, tell me. What was our wager again?"
"If I win, you are to be my slave for the turn of a moon," you answer quickly, more than a little disappointed that losing the wager meant not having Thranduil wait on you hand and foot. Literally.
Thranduil smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "And if I win?"
"I am to let you have your way with me. In whatever way you desire."
"A prospect that does not disappoint you, yes?"
You huff and cross your arms. How easy it was for him to read you! "It does not."
Thranduil smiled wolfishly and sat down, extending his hand to you. "Come, meleth. It is time to pay the piper, so to speak."
You narrowed your eyes and made yourself comfortable next to him, lying down on the grass as you did so. The sky was beautiful, all puffy white clouds against a field of the palest, clearest blue. You rest your head over your folded arms and watch while they stay low and move slowly. Thranduil is content to watch you. He lays down beside you, an enchanting smile slowly working its way across his face when you turn to face him. His eyes light up when you smile in return.
"I will pay," you reply with a grin.
Thranduil beamed and leaned forward, the sweetness of his kiss pouring into your throat when his mouth opened over yours. Deft, experienced hands worked on the clasps and lacing on your robes. Your gown loosened beneath his touch. The prince helps you out of your clothes, barely taking a moment to marvel at the sight of you exposed. Thranduil then sat up, his clothes rustling while he rid himself of his tunic and undershirts, belt and sash and boots. They all joined the growing pile by the side. He slipped out of his breeches, sighing in relief when his throbbing cock sprang free. He did not give you time to even think or breathe. He simply captured your lips with his.
Your nerves were aflame; every inch of you was heated and sensitive to his touch. And you were bold, reaching out to ghost a finger over the crown of his member. Thranduil moaned lustily and drew away, content again to watch, this time while you took him into your hands. He moved his hips, thrusting in time with your strokes. The warmth and frenzy of your pace were unceasing. It nearly undid him and almost made him cum all over your hand.
"Not like this." Thranduil loosened your grip and pushed you onto your back. "I would much rather finish inside you."
He was so warm when he lowered himself onto you—slowly and carefully—and tried not to lose control of himself and hurt you. He did not enter you immediately. Thranduil kept still while you touched his face and his hair, and ran your hands over his arms and chest and back. The prince was perfect, like an exquisite marble sculpture come to life.
"Mine," you declare without even hesitating. "All mine."
Joy welled within Thranduil's heart. "As you are mine," he exclaimed with pride before dipping his head.
He kissed with tenderness, then hunger, then fury, when your mouth parted for the warmth of his sinful tongue. Thranduil knitted his tapered fingers around yours, moaning into your mouth when your free hand slid around his waist and nails dug into his flesh.
"Naughty girl," he breathed wistfully. "Now open those beautiful legs for me."
He groaned under his breath when your legs slid open and hooked around his hips. Thranduil pushed in, inch by agonizing inch, sinking his shaft into your slit. The prince was built bigger than most, and you felt it in the pressure around your core. He kept still, his chest heaving and his heart racing wildly, while you adjusted to his size. Arousal pooled in your belly when even the slightest movement sent shock waves shooting up your spine like lightning. You no longer wanted him to stay still. You wanted him to move.
"I am ready."
Thranduil's pace was merciless. He rutted into you like a wild beast, growing drunk on your transported moans.
"Look at how well you take me," he cries against your throat. "It is as if you have been made for me."
All you could do was hold onto him while he bucked his hips against the insides of your thighs. "Perhaps it is because we were made for each other."
"Yes," Thranduil agreed. "Meant for each other. You are mine, just as I am yours. We belong together."
His grip on your hand tightened. He plunged deeper and harder. It made you see stars. "More," you plead shamelessly. "More. Please."
Thranduil grunted softly. "Look at you. Listen to how desperate you sound. Should I deny you?"
"No!" you keen. "Please do not do that."
"Pathetic." Thranduil hissed hoarsely, his hips now undulating every time he thrust. "But I suppose I will concede to your plea. I am going to finish inside you, so you know who you belong to."
"Please." The knowledge of him filling you with his seed unraveled you. "Do it. Please."
He nearly fell apart when he heard. Thranduil let go of your hand and gripped your chin, forcing you to open your eyes and look at him. He wanted to see how your words could undo him. "Are you ready?"
You did see. You saw how his eyes had darkened and how raw, unbridled lust flashed in them. And you were so ready for him.
"Yes," you sob in relief. "So ready."
Thranduil ran his tongue along the curve of your throat. It made you tremble beneath him and whimper against his shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic and relentless. It sent you spiraling and made the world grow dark in your eyes. Thranduil gasped sharply while your walls contracted and milked his cock. It shattered him and made his orgasm rip through him. He glanced at your belly, his thoughts running riot with visions of his spend filling your cunt. It heightened the bliss he was already drowning in. With one last, satisfying grunt, he came to a stop, his arms and body trembling from the exertion.
Nothing could be heard save for the wind rustling through flowers and leaves and the deeper sound of ragged breathing. Thranduil slowly moved onto his back, taking you with him. You sighed in contentment while he held you against his chest. When you moved, he stopped you.
"Keep me inside you a little longer," Thranduil insists. "Just a little longer, then you and I can go for a swim in that pond nearby."
#thranduil#Thranduil smut#Thranduil x reader#Thranduil imagine#greenwood the great#x reader#x reader insert#reader insert#reader requests#reader insert request#💫a world of whimsy writes
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Pining
Clive Rosfield x fem reader, based on this request.
Angsty fluff, minor game spoilers.
-
You’d experienced a lot of hurt in your life.
It had hurt when, days after your 14th Name Day, you’d manifested magick without a crystal. Your father had marched you up to the constable’s office with no hesitation, your mother and sister at the door watching, but not protesting as you were dragged away. Your father wouldn’t even look at you as you sobbed, begging him to forgive you, that you didn’t mean it, but he was unmoved. The hurt of being so easily flung aside by people you thought were meant to love you unconditionally.
It had hurt when you’d been Branded a few days afterwards - strapped down to a table as a soldier had a hand grasped around your throat to keep you still, all whilst the Brand Master inked your skin. It was rare to awaken so late and they couldn’t risk losing such a healthy Bearer to the poisoned black carved into your skin, or so you’d overheard, so it was imperative you did not move. If your face wasn’t burning, your throat was from the taunting squeeze of your windpipe to keep you still.
It had hurt when a series of masters had worked you to the bone from the off. When they’d kicked, punched, whipped you for the days they felt you weren’t performing your best, that you were being lazy, not that you were drained of energy from a diet of scraps.
It had hurt knowing your life had a price, a physical amount of gil exchanged between hands, and one which lessened as you aged. It had hurt when your intoxicated master tried to flog you on the street to afford a few more pints of ale, until Cid came to your rescue.
It had hurt the day you’d had your Brand removed, despite the draught Tarja had you drink in preparation. The Brand removal was necessary when you joined the Cursebreakers – an unescorted Branded was too much of a target, after all. Tarja’s touch was gentle, her scalpel hand practiced and cautious, but it was never going to be pain-free.
All that hurt in your life, but this, you think - as you watch Clive and Jill deep in conversation, the way his eyes seem to light up when she places her hand on his arm - is the worst hurt of all.
You hadn’t meant to fall in love with Clive Rosfield.
There had been many Bearers easy on the eye across the years, but romance was strictly forbidden. Being caught in too close proximity with one another was enough to warrant a beating in many master’s eyes, the guilty parties made example of so much that you didn’t even dare to dream of finding love.
Even after settling down in the Hideaway, you hadn’t thought of it…
Until Clive.
Somehow, over the years, he’d crept his way into your heart, slowly and cautiously, and you don’t know how he did, but he’s there now and it hurts.
You’d met Jill in the infirmary. You weren’t a physicker by any means, but Tarja said your gentle manner was ideal for comforting those who were in pain or sick, so you’d been helping out there when Jill was first brought in, clinging to life.
The two of you had become best friends almost instantly – helping someone in those early days of recovery bonds two like nothing else - and your friendship had only grown stronger over the years. It felt like having your sister back, the jokes and secrets once again shared as she taught you how to braid your hair. You’d sobbed for each other in her room one night - for lost childhoods, lost dreams, lost family.
Before any feelings towards Clive had begun to develop within you, you’d gently teased her about him – asking her if he was her suitor.
“Clive?” She smiled, stifling a laugh. “No, he’s practically my brother. I love him, but not like that.”
Being friends with Jill had led to being friends with Clive, naturally. There had been tears when they’d returned from Drake’s Head sans Cid after Titan’s attack on the Hideaway - tears in relief at each other’s safety and tears for those lost. You’d been one of the lucky ones, escaping with minimal injury and had immediately thrown yourself into helping find and build the new Hideaway on the blighted lake. There was always something to be done – endless carpentry work, covert supply runs, shifts in the infirmary, taking turns making big batches of stews before Molly stepped up to save everyone the stomach ache.
At the turn of the year in the new Hideaway, the ale had been flowing at the Tub & Crown – music playing away on the orchestrator in a rare night of celebration. There was still work to do – the base would require constant maintenance and expansion of course, and not to mention the issue of the Mothercrystals themselves – but the mood was joyful.
Otto had even asked Lady Charon for a dance, much to everyone’s amusement. Everyone had held their breath, bracing themselves for her quick-witted tongue, but Charon had shrugged and accepted his outstretched hand. As they waltzed, others begun to join them, and you watched with an enchanted smile on your face. It felt like almost something out of a fairytale. Gav soon approached your table and extended a hand to Jill in a flourish, she is soon whisked away into the fray, laughing as Gav definitely has two left feet.
An outstretched hand appears to your side.
“May I have this dance, my lady?” You turn to see Clive, not dressed in his full armour, just his white undershirt and leather breeches. He seems softer for it, more relaxed in casual attire for a change.
“I… I don’t know how, I’m afraid.” You shake your head at his offer – you were never a lady of the court after all. Not like Jill.
“I assure you I am very out of practice, so we’ll do fine together. Please?” It must be the ale, you think, as you relent and take his hand.
He pulls you to your feet with ease and escorts you to the middle of the makeshift dance floor, placing his other hand on the small of your back and pulling you close.
“Just follow my lead – like our lessons in the pit.” He smiles, and your heart thuds.
You soon fall into the cautious rhythm – he steps forward, you step back. His eyes flick between yours and behind you, making sure you’re not going to collide into any of the other couples, particularly the enthusiastic Gav. Your face feels hot under Clive’s soft gaze. What is this feeling?
The music comes to an end too soon.
“Thank you, Clive.” You say, softly.
He smiles, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “My lady, the pleasure was mine.”
You stare at one another, perhaps a second too long, when there’s a loud crash – Gav has missed the stool in his eagerness to get back to his pint.
“Who moved my seat?!”
Laughter echo arounds the hall and the moment is lost then, but you remember it with a warm feeling in your stomach, a smile on your face as you drift off to sleep in your bed that day.
And the feeling only grows and grows…
--
A few months have passed since the turn of the year and life at the Hideaway remains busy – the Fallen relic constantly needs restructuring to accommodate new arrivals of freed Bearers after they had been nursed back to health in the infirmary, before you’d begin to assist them in adjusting to their new found freedom – albeit limited to the confines of the Hideaway - but freedom none-the-less.
Things have been somewhat different lately. Jill and Clive are often out on excursions together and when they are both back within the Hideaway, they have started to secrete themselves away on an evening to his chambers. It’s hard not to feel left out. Dominant business, you’d try to reassure yourself. A Bearer like yourself was nothing like the power an Eikon possessed. Jill doesn’t say what she’s been up to and you don’t pry, but she seems happier recently. Whenever you see her, she gets almost giggly, like she has a secret you’re not privy too.
And now, seeing the two of them sat at the table in the far corner, as if not to be disturbed, conferring closely, the physical contact, it becomes all too clear and it hurts.
“Gil for your thoughts, like?”
You jump at the sound of Gav’s voice and realise he’s stood right in front of you. You hadn’t even noticed him climbing the stairs, so fixated on the moment between Clive and Jill. You readjust the pile of books in your arms - Vivian had asked you to fetch a number of them from the shelves as she poured over the latest correspondences and, wanting to keep occupied, you had agreed.
“Oh.” You force a smile, though your heart is beating a mile a minute. “It’s nothing. I’m tired, I think.”
“That’s no surprise – you seem to be helping everyone at the moment.” He gestures to the books.
“I like to keep busy.”
At that moment, Jill lifts her hand from Clive’s arm and subtly gestures to you, but you keep your eyes focused on Gav. There’s a sweet smile on Clive’s face when he locates you with those kind blue eyes. He nods his head in acknowledgment, beckoning you over with his own hand.
It’s easier to pretend you haven’t seen the invite, that your eyes were fixed elsewhere.
There’s no fun in being a third wheel. You want to be happy for them, but there’s a horrible gnawing in your stomach, a constant lump in your throat. You’re jealous – you know it’s childish, pathetic, selfish behaviour and it hurts because you love Jill, you want her to be happy.
It’s easier to try and keep your distance, you conclude, and head out towards the map room, missing Jill’s puzzled expression and Clive’s crestfallen look.
--
The next day, they’d been embracing near the stairs to the side of the lift early afternoon – the very lift you needed to get in. Eyes cast down, task in mind, you tried to walk past unnoticed.
“..I don’t know what I’d do without you, Jill.”
The stabbing pain in your chest intensifies as you overhear so you quicken your pace, thinking you’ll get in and hit the lever without notice, but Jill steps in front of you, a warm smile on her face as always.
“There you are. We’ve been looking for you all over.”
“Can’t stop,” the lie comes easy, a false smile plastered on your face in return. “Tarja needs more herbs for the infirmary, so I’m heading to the mainland.”
“Well, allow me to accompany you.” Clive steps forward.
“No need. Cole’s waiting at the dock already for me.” You reply, stepping around Jill and backwards into the lift, slamming the lever with a little more force than strictly necessary.
--
No-one wants your help today. It’s odd. You’ve been round the Hideaway twice making sure no jobs had popped up since you’d last enquired. Despite everything seeming as busy as usual, everyone reassures you with various iterations of, “All’s in hand, thank you. Why don’t you take the day off?”
Not knowing what to do with yourself, you’d retreated to the solar you shared with Jill. It’s close quarters, true, but enough for two beds and a small dresser, holding a mirror. When Jill hadn’t been away from the Hideaway, you’d taken to getting up early and retiring late, making sure you could only exchange pleasantries about your days – you worried any prolonged interaction would cause your façade to crack. You love her, you should be happy for her, but you’re worried jealousy might poison your words.
You look in the mirror, your eyes immediately drawn to your Brand scar. Jill is a proper lady – elegant, poised, a Dominant, her cheeks smooth and unmarred. They’re perfect together. Why can’t your heart catch up with your head?
The door opens. Jill walks in, pausing as she places her hands on her hips as if she’s caught you in the act of something.
“Come on, out with it.”
“Out with what?” You feign ignorance.
“You’ve been avoiding me for days.”
“No, I haven’t.” You sit down on the bed, picking at a loose thread on the sheet. You should take it to Hortense. “Just busy. You know how it is.”
“You’ve always been a bad liar.” She chides, sitting down on her own bed. “Please. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” You smile, trying your best to make sure it reaches your eyes under her scrutinizing gaze. “No need to fuss.”
“You rise early, retire late – you’re burning yourself out.”
“It’s not every day. Besides…” jealousy tinges your tone - your will weakened by heartache and tiredness, “..you’ve been away with Clive so much of late, or in his chambers, you wouldn’t know.”
Jill stares at you for a moment, before her eyes widened in realization. “Clive and I-“
You get to your feet, your eyes burning, you can’t hear it out loud. “I’ve got to go.” And you run as if an Eikon was at your heels.
--
You’re sat at the edge of the a partially constructed platform towards the back of the Hideaway that was slowly being expanded. They hadn’t got much further than increasing the floorspace, but you dangled your legs off the side, watching the waters lap below and let the tears flow at last.
A wet nose nuzzles at your arm, a soft whine.
“Hello, Torgal.” Your voice thick with tears, you rub his soft ears. He accepts your attentions for a moment before he softly trots away as quick as he came, cementing your pitiful mood.
A few minutes pass before you hear footsteps approach.
“Good boy, Torgal.” Clive praises his faithful wolf and you freeze. You can’t run away this time – the only exit being the waters below.
“Torgal kindly helped me to find your hiding place.”
You rub your face with the heel of your hand but you worry it’s too late, that your voice is going to give you away. “Surely everyone hides in a hideaway.” Your attempt at a light-hearted tone sounds a little too forced through the tightness in your throat.
“True.” Hesitation. “May I?”
“O-of course.” You dig your fingernails into your palm, hoping to gain composure as Clive sits down besides you. There isn’t a lot of space on the ledge you had chosen, his knee knocking into yours as he sits.
“We’ve missed your company of late. I hear you’ve been assisting almost everyone here.”
“Always something to do.” You shrug, keeping your eyes fixed on your boots. “Though no-one seemed to want me today.”
“Ah, that was my doing. I asked them for respite – you’ve been working hard.”
“Oh.” Your heart is hammering at the proximity between the two of you. Can he hear it?
“Have I… offended you in some way?” He sounds nervous.
“Not at all.”
“You seem unable to meet my eyes recently.”
You know you should look at him then, to suggest he’s wrong, but they still sting with tears and you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want his pity. You can’t answer.
Clive continues. “You seem to avoid me at all costs. Jill believes so too. She says you’re early to rise and late to bed, constantly on the move.”
“There’s just a lot to do.”
“You do not have to do it all.”
You let out a dry laugh. “Says you.”
Another pause.
“Please...” His voice cracks ever so slightly with his request. “Look at me.”
You wish on Metia for strength – you feel he’d stay here all night if he must – and turn. The tell-tale tears on your cheeks highlighted in the moon’s glow.
He looks crestfallen, his hand twitches in his lap – he wants to brush away the tears. “I’ve upset you.”
You shake your head, averting your gaze again. “You haven’t.”
“What troubles you, then?”
“I…” You swallow. “I want something.”
“Then you shall have it.” Clive states, confidently. “After all, you do so much for the Hideaway and everyone in it. All you need to do is ask.”
“No. I… I want something I cannot have.”
“I don’t know about that. We destroyed a Mothercrystal.”
“No, it isn't like that. I really cannot have this.”
“Tell me - please. I cannot stand to see you this way a moment longer.” He places his hand on yours as he leans in – it can’t be deliberate. “I will do whatever it takes to see you smile again.”
A fresh wave of tears threatens to spill and you turn your head in towards your shoulder. It is only there for a moment when fingers grasp your chin so gently, tilting it back towards him and forcing you to meet those blue eyes once more.
“Please.”
You can’t refuse him any longer. The vortex of emotions inside is too much. Maybe - maybe - if you let it out, you could try and move on than wallow forever more in this hole of self-pity.
“I want you.”
He blinks, his expression unchanged. Your heart is beating too fast, you feel sick, things will never be the same again-
His lips are on yours. Clive Rosfield is kissing you. You’re too stunned to reciprocate for a second, but then you pull back, looking alarmed.
“But Jill…“
“What about Jill?” His tone is one of confusion.
“You’re with Jill.”
“I am not." He looks almost amused. "I care for her, true, but as a sister.”
“But the two of you… I’ve seen you. Secret conversations at all hours and…”
“We were talking about you.” Clive looks embarrassed. “I… I felt unable to express my intentions. Jill was determined to give me encouragement. I’ve been trying to get a moment with you all week.”
Your heart is skipping in a confusing way. “Your intentions?”
“You consume my thoughts when you are in and out of sight. I don’t know how you did it. You have been a constant by my side these last few years and I feel myself yearn more for you every passing day.” He places a hand on your cheek. “I was becoming insufferable away from the Hideaway with my talk of you, or so Jill claims.”
Your face is burning red at his sweet words, his soft touch upon your face, the admiration in his eyes. He leans forward again, his lips pressed against yours gently at first as you fall into a clumsy rhythm – both shy and a little unsure at first.
His teeth nip your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open so your tongues intertwine. You place your hand on his chest – something you’ve only ever dreamed of – and he wraps you up in his arms, pulling you close, kissing you as if he needs it to live.
Clive pulls back, allowing the two of you to catch your breath, before he smiles at you.
“You don’t need to be in want of me, my darling, for I am already yours.”
-
Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi
#ghostdogwrites#clive rosfield x you#clive rosfield x female reader#clive rosfield x reader#clive rosfield fluff#clive rosfield#ff16 x reader#reader requests
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I saw your post of villanious and I smile bc there's barley any content 😔. Of you have time can you write about how would Dr Flug act around black hats apprentice (like they been raised and taught by black hat to the point they could be considered black hats kid/grandchild) Because he is secretly in love with them?
♡A/N: dawww ty!!!! Villainous has been one of my favorite fandoms like ever- and i enjoy writing for these sillies!!!! There is hardly any Villainous writers rn, and im here ti fill in that place!!!!! Besides, i love writing for my favorite nerd<3333 hope you enjoy~!!!♡
Dr. Flug × Blackhats apprentice reader!
▪︎ he didnt believe it for one second! Blackhat, with an apprentice? Absurd! That was highly unlikely! It made the doctor laugh out loud at the thought. Blackhat would hardly have time or the patience to take in some random villain under his wing
▪︎ until he met you
▪︎ when Blackhat called the team for a meeting in his office, he surely expected it to be another mission. He was not optimistic about it
▪︎ instead, to his suprise, Blackhat mentioned a new member joining the team. Flug could hardly believe it! But what caught him off gaurd was how fondly Blackhat talked off this person, as if this was someone he had knew. And with that, Flug expected the worse. Blackhat hardly had time for friends, and if it was atleast an alley, then they had ro be strong, scary, and murderous like his boss was.
▪︎ you can say for sure he was caught off gaurd when you were introduced. You looked.. normal, like.. a person. And Blackhat let you stand near him, and the demon himself spoke fondly about your abilities, almost proudly. This spiked the doctors curiosity
▪︎ Bkackhat decided that you would join the trio on one of their next missions. 505 was ecstatic to have a friend, and Demencia could care less about another member. Flug though? This poor man was petrified. Was this a test???? Would you be observing them and reporting their work back to Blackhat?? Did Blackhat not trust them enough to do their jobs properly???? These questions sent the doctor spiraling
▪︎ when the time comes for the mission, Dr. Flug was nervous as all hell. Deciding he was going to go out of his way to impress you! If you were here to test them, then he sure was going to do his best!
▪︎ he ended up getting so nervous he nearly crashed the hat plane because he wasnt paying attention
▪︎ he was distracted! He was tring his best to observe you and understand you. You were hardly even seemed like a threat. For instance, you pet 505 willingly! Thats something no villain, let alone a favor of Blackhats would even come close to doing
▪︎ you just seemed... normal to him. What was so special about you?
▪︎ until he was in trouble
▪︎ he was pinned, unsure what to do. His plan didnt go out well at all, and he was doomed for absolute failure
▪︎ he expected to be beaten by this hero, he waited for the pain but... it never happened
▪︎ Instead, he found you where the hero would be, effortlessly throwing the hero off of Flug, and throwing him into the nearby wall without any struggle. A fierce look behind those eyes, as you snarled at the hero. Before you turned your attention back to Flug, and offered him a hand up
▪︎ he was stunned
▪︎ Maybe he understood why Blackhat was fond of you, after watching you easily ground a hero before his own eyes, he was in awe
▪︎ afterwords, on the way back from the mission, Flug nervously thanked you, and you just smiled and told him it was no trouble
▪︎ Flug and you got talking, the doctor ended up learning about you and Blackhats backstory. He hardly believed it at first, but then again, he couldnt ask Blackhat about it, that was a death sentence.
▪︎ you two ended up getting along!
▪︎ Flug was still equally terrified of you, getting extreamly nervous in your presence
▪︎ He had to do some research, because he didnt fully believe your story, observing yours and Blackhats interactions. He seemed to value your opinion abit more than he did witg the rest of the crew, but he also pointed out each flaw in your work. Not like he woukd do with Flug in disappointment, but like he was teaching you
▪︎ Flug was ultimately confused, but he decided not to dig into it anymore, just incase something bad would happen of he found out to much
▪︎ he wa just confused on how you werent so hostile abd scary like Blackhat was, and alas, he would never know
▪︎ you got to come along on missions with the trio! And to Flugs suprise, you worked really well with his plans. You two even made a good team together! Undoubtedly, the first person to actually follow along with his plans, and that was enough to make him value you alot more.
▪︎ you two didn't really spend to much time together. He was usually busy in his lab, or you were busy following Blackhat around as he taught you things
▪︎ though, occasionally, you would have free time, and come and visit Flug down in his lab!
▪︎ he was suprised at first, but he hardly minded, after all you didn't touch anything, and you were more curious about asking him of his projects, which he was happy to explain to you
▪︎ he liked when you came down to visit him, although it wasnt constant, he enjoyed your company, and your curiosity of his projects, he liked talking to you. It was always so quiet down in his lab, he usually talked to his robots or to 505, it was nice to have a an actual back and forth conversation
▪︎ when he first noticed his likness to you, it was when you were helping Blackhat with his work, and spotted Flug out thd corner of your eye. And you stopped to wave at him!
▪︎ you actually stopped your work, just ro acknowledged him.. for some reason, that made his head spin
▪︎ once he realized he liked you, he desperately tried to push his feelings away. He was confident that it would never work, after all, Blackhat would forbid it , or turn him into a pretzel if he found out that one of his workers grew a fondness for his apprentice
▪︎ But, no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't deny it. Especially during missions, when you taunted the heros and maniacally rip them to shreds, it makes his heart skip.
▪︎ or the way you punished heros???? He is smitten
▪︎ Demencia definitely noticed the hopelessly lovesick look on Flugs face abd teased him about it
▪︎ he just, couldnt help it! No matter how much he tries to bury you out of his mind, the moment where you saved him from that hero lingered in his mind. And it made him sigh each time the memory would replay in his head, just the way you looked at him was enough to make him swoon
▪︎ He had to face the fact
▪︎ that he was hopelessly in love with what he believes could never be, no matter how much he longs for it
▪︎ Little does he know... an apprentice who struggles with their hopeless love<3
#reader insert#dr flug x reader#dr flug#x reader blog#reader requests#villainous x reader#villainous#gender neutral reader#lovesick nerds<3333
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I want Bucky x hairy f!reader. And not one where she just happens to be hairy and he has to just not mind, I want him obsessed with her hairy pussy. Loving the smell and taste and her feeling confident even though she might have hairy nipples, a happy trail, hairy legs etc. I want him obsessed with her no matter what, him loving pleasuring her even though she’s not ‘conventionally’ attractive. Maybe the first time she was scared but now he’s obsessed, he’d never asked because he thought her body her choice but a spontaneous make out which leads to more reveals her to be hairy, she’s shy, he comforts her and loves her for it and from there he is beaming when she goes out with her hairy legs on show and proud of her and will beat up anyone who says shit about her
(Sorry this is long and rambling just wanted it off my chest)
Whew, what a prompt! 😮💨😏
I’ll add it to my request list and try my best to fulfill your desires. 🫶🏼
💋Sj
#bucky barnes#james barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#james buchanan barnes#sergeant james barnes#sergeant james buchanan barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes smut#Bucky Barnes request#reader requests#anon request#smut requests
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Saint Tony (Tony DiNozzo x reader) part 1; fluff
You’d been working at NCIS for a few months. Gibbs saw you working for the police department. You were a detective that wasn’t taken seriously. You made observations and figured out things that the other cops didn’t, but you were so young, you were a girl. Nonetheless, Gibbs asked you to come work for him. And that’s how you met Tony.
You: I’m going drinking tonight with the girls.
You respond to his text. You hadn’t been talking to Tony for a long time, had only been friends since you started at NCIS.
Tony: Oh fun! What bar?
He replies he wasn’t gonna show up. He just wants to make sure you’re safe
You: Stevie’s
You say, a dc famous western themed bar/club known for its really good drinks and music but terrible violence. You had been fine in your past experiences, so you didn’t think much of it.
Tony: Taking a gun?
You: Mmm I thought about it but not tonight
Tony: Have a DD?
You: No we’re taking an Uber.
Tony: Well call me when you get home, or if you need anything
You: Okay thanks dad 😂. You joke.
Tony: Wow I care about you and all I get is sarcasm? Not even a promise of a kiss
You: Aww poor Tony… baby needs some attention.
Tony: I mean, I wouldn’t mind having you to myself tonight
You: Ooo maybe maybe.
Being with Tony seemed like such an amazing idea. As much as you wanted to play around before giving in, you were wanting to dive head first into him.
Tony: Well go have fun with those girls! Call me. Be safe (y/n).
The disappointment settled in as he changed into some pj pants and his hoodie. He heated up some leftovers and turned on a movie.
Time skip~
Tony was asleep in bed. Meanwhile a night at the bar turned to be you starving, drunk, and desperately searching for your phone. When you finally found it, you called Tony.
“DiNozzo” he says sleepily into the receiver end.
“Hey Tony. Would you mind picking me up?” You ask. Your words slurring into each other.
“Yea, I’m on my way” Tony sat up and swung his legs out of bed. Grabbing his keys and wallet he left the house. 15 minutes later Tony’s Mustang was running idle in front of the bar. You walked to the entrance where Tony was standing. You laid in his arms as he leaned against the door of his car, laughing.
“Tony Tony Tony” you say.
“(Y/n)” he laughed. “Let’s get you in the car”
“Okay okay” you were giggling. Body shaking against Tony’s as you did. Tony was smiling. You looked so beautiful. A black satin dress, your hair was messy now, a little mascara under your eyes, but that lipstick was unmoved. He helped you into the car, running to the other side to get in.
You had your head on his shoulder. He could feel your light breathing on his neck. While waiting at a red light he tried to look down at you, he found your eyes looking at him. You moved your body, a drunk hand lazily moving around his neck. He moved his face to looking at you completely as you laid your lips on his.
“Can I sleep with you tonight?” You whispered between kisses.
“Yes” he responds as he began driving to his apartment. Your hands all over his body. “(Y/n)” he moaned. He slowly started losing his composure. Dick hardening as he speedily drove to his apartment.
Tony was willing to admit that he wanted to have sex with you. But not drunk. He wanted you when you were sober. In his mind, if you love him sober, you’ll love him drunk. Not the other way around.
“Tony” you whispered in his ear.
“(Y/n)” he responded. Your hands still traveling around his body when he pulled up into the driveway. He parked the car and turned it off.
Once the two of you were inside, Tony took you to his bedroom. You drunkly got undressed. Tony had his back turned while you were pulling down your pants. He tossed one of his shirts on the bed.
“I’ll be back” he said and left the room retuning a few minutes later to see you sitting on the edge of the bed. “Brought baby wipes for your makeup” he shrugged crouching down to help you wipe it off.
You were smiling. You played with his hoodie strings while he cleaned off your face. Slowing down around your lips. You leaned down and kissed him. He kissed you back. Tony moved between your legs and you scooted back on the bed. The blankets already in disarray seeing as he was sleeping earlier.
“Tony…” you whisper palming him through his pajama pants. He shook his head, kissing you deeply.
He held your hips. Close to his.
“Fuck” he groaned as you moved against him.
He pressed his lips to yours one more time. You passionately kissed him back. He covered you with the blanket, as he noticed you were getting sleepier and sleepier.
“Goodnight gorgeous” he kissed you before cuddling next to you. You hummed in response.
#ducky mallard#jethro gibbs#tony dinozzo#x reader#ncis fandom#ncis fanfiction#ncis x reader#ncis x readers#tony dinozzo x reader#ncis#ncis reader insert#ncis imagine#ncis smut#ncisverse#ncis hawaii#ncis sydney#ncis la#ncis los angeles#ncis new orleans#tony#timothy x reader#anthony dinozzo x reader#reader insert#male reader#reader requests#gn reader#fem reader#gender neutral reader#anthony dinozzo#leroy jethro gibbs
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@atleastpleasetelephone Hey friend!! Thank you so much!!! You sure can have some smut 😏. I hope you enjoy this filthy little ficlet.
Daddy Likes His Coat
Warnings: 18+ MINORS NO. DNI. Kissing, cussing, masturbation (f & m), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, public sex
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You've been with Elvis for almost a year now, and he knows how you can get sometimes, especially after a good show. So when you're getting on the plane and you grab his hand and pull him to you, he's not surprised to hear what you whisper in his ear.
"I need you..." He smiles, but shakes his head genially.
"No, baby, there's too many people on the plane tonight." You pout as you make your way to your seats. He goes all the way to the back by the bathroom.
"See! The bathroom is right there!" You're seated across from him facing him and the back of the plane. The charter plane is small, but big enough for there to be no one directly next to the two of you. Everyone else is in front of you. You stick your bottom lip out and beg. "Pleaseeee."
"Baby. No. Maybe when we land." He leans across to pat your knee and pulls out a book and starts to read. You look out the window for a bit and then get an idea. He doesn't even notice you wiggling in your seat.
All of a sudden something lands on his book right in the middle of where he was reading. He looks at it puzzled and then goes to pick it up. That's when he realizes it's your white lace panties in his hand. He looks up at you quickly and shuts his book, your panties still clutched in his fist. He has a devilish glint in his eyes.
"Honey, what-"
You spread your legs slowly, giving him a full view of your pussy under your short skirt. His eyes widen.
"What are you...?"
He trails off as you lick your fingers and move them down to your core. His mouth drops open a little as you begin to rub circles on yourself, biting your bottom lip to keep from moaning. You roll your hips forward into your hand.
"Mmm." He groans quietly and reaches forward to touch you. You use your knee to push his hand to the side.
"Uh-uh. You said there's too many people on the plane."
"Baby, please."
"Touch yourself, since that's what you made me do." He sighs deeply.
"You're a pain in the ass, sweetheart. You know that?"
"You love me." You close your eyes and moan softly as you slide a finger into yourself, pumping it in and out.
"God, I really do." His eyes are glued to what your hands are doing. He swallows hard and then stands up as much as he can in the small plane, yanking his jacket off. He sits back down and folds it and holds it in his lap, his hands buried somewhere underneath. You know him well enough to know that he's currently freeing his cock from the confines of his pants. A smirk crosses your lips as you watch him begin to stroke himself under his jacket, trying desperately not to react with his face.
"Shittt." He hisses and you quickly pull your hands back and close your legs as a stewardess walks over to you both.
"Mr. Presley, would you care for some water?" He's stopped moving, but his hand is still under his coat.
"Nope. Not tonight." He answers with a strained smile.
"Do you need anything?"
"Not anything you can give me. Thanks." She looks at him with a confused expression and then turns to walk back up the aisle, smiling at you as she passes.
"You're gonna be the death of me, doll." He goes back to moving his hand under his jacket. "Mm. C'mon honey, lemme see ya again."
You consider saying no, just to tease him, but you're too turned on to stop, so you spread your legs again and let your fingers trail down your front back to your center.
"There ya go, baby." He groans a little louder than he probably should. You have on a tank top with no bra under your coat, so you open it and pull your top down to give him a glimpse of your nipple.
"Mmm, that's so mean, baby."
"As mean as this?" You answer breathlessly as you move your fingers even faster over your clit bringing yourself to a very obvious orgasm. The waves of electric pleasure crest and break as your climax rushes through you. You bite your lip again and moan quietly and your hips buck while your eyes close. The image of you making yourself cum almost drives him over the edge.
"Goddamnit, woman."
He begins to pump himself faster, no longer trying to hide his facial expressions as his hand moves up and down his rock hard cock. He closes his eyes and makes a face that you recognize.
"Gonna make me ruin my coat, doll."
"That's right, daddy, cum for baby." Suddenly, he shakes his head and opens his eyes.
"No. I'm cumming inside you. That pussy is mine." He reaches forward with his free hand and grabs your arm dragging you into his lap. Everyone on the plane very clearly hears exactly what he says, but he no longer cares. You giggle as he slides you onto his dick and groans loudly.
"I thought there were too many people-"
"I don't give a fuck. Bounce." He lifts you by the waist and you move up and down on him. It only takes a few times before you feel him tense and buck up into you, filling you with his hot release.
"Oh, god, baby, yes." He moans as he shudders and relaxes. You feel his arms wrap around you and he leans against the back of your neck. "Fuck, honey, I love you."
He lifts you off of himself and pulls your skirt down, handing you your panties to put back on.
"I love you too." You lean in and kiss him gently and then turn to go back to your seat. He slaps your ass as he puts himself away. Bending down, you hand him his book from where it slid onto the floor during your activities. He spends the rest of the flight reading and you look out the window, fully satisfied.
The plane lands and you all make your way off. As you do, Joe looks at Elvis with his eyebrows raised. Elvis shakes his head quizzically.
"What? I really like this coat."
******
The End
#elvis presley#elvis presley fanfiction#elvis fanfic#elvis#elvis presley fic#elvis smut#elvis presley x reader#elvis x reader#elvis fanfiction#elvis presley x y/n#elvis fic#elvis presley smut#elvis x you#elvis x y/n#elvis presley x you#elvis presley fanfic#reader requests
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Heya guys Kat/Lime here
Well I didn't imagine that my Sephiroth Headcanon about a crush request would get so much traction and just surpassed my older GoW requests I did about a year ago.
Wow....
I'm flattered and I'm proud....
If you guys wanna do requests I'll link my request board here. It'll have what I'm currently into and my introduction if you have any questions or ideas. I'm also trying to advertise my upcoming Comic Last Pegasus as much as I can so hopefully art will be up soon of some characters.
I'm also getting back into my Zelda rhythm and I drew some Zonai so yeah...
I'm happy to make new friends, especially art friends hehe...
#thank you#reader fanfiction#reader requests#x reader#sephiroth x reader#final fantasy fanfiction#final fantsy vii#ff7#ff7 x reader#sephiroth headcanons#Sephiroth fanfic#legend of zelda#zelda#tears of the kingdom#breath of the wild#last pegasus#original comic#ocs#original story
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Hey could I request angsty and fluffy headcanons for Dean having a crush on reader but he thinks she has a crush on Sam but she actually has a crush on Dean back
Hey lovely!
So I kiiiind of already did this type of prompt with "Dean gives you an impossible choice" and its sequel, "Choosing Him."
But I'll do another imagine in this vein for you! ❤️
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader
Word Count: 1,000
Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst(ish), fear of unrequited love, mutual pining
Imagine: Dean reads you wrong.
When Dean falls for someone, it's "slow and steady wins the race."
But the spark. That spark is instant.
He feels it with you.
Your pretty smile. Your "get it done" attitude that mirrors his. The way you know all of his references, whether it's movies or TV or music — you grew up learning how to tell time from what was on TV, just like him.
It's the way you laugh with him, share quiet moments of contemplation with him, and even moments of grief with him. Even when it's his grief, you always come. Whether it's to sit beside him, or share a drink with him, or make him something you know he likes, or get him to take a drive with you.
But realistically, you have more in common with Sam.
Both of you are bookish (nerds). You two get into heated discussions about Dante's Inferno and proper Latin translations. (You always accuse Sam of his pronunciations being off, while Sam argues, "At least I remember the whole exorcism. You think the damn demon cares if my vowels are off?")
You and Sam bicker. You playfully tease him, bring smiles to his face just as often as you bring them to Dean's. You're comfortable with him, playfully jabbing his arm or his chest when you mess with him.
Sam takes it with a smile, or a slight roll of his eyes, but always with fondness.
Dean can't help the churning in his stomach. Every time he thinks he has a read on you. Every time he thinks it's safe to maybe, one day, after a hunt, after an episode of Dr. Sexy, after you get out of the shower, after he's made you a home-cooked meal, after you sit with him and talk about everything and nothing while he works on his car — he thinks he might have a shot if he asked you out.
But he always falters, because he just can't fucking tell. He thinks you and Sam have something.
And Dean...he likes you. A lot.
More than he's ever willingly expressed.
But despite his reputation with women, he's never, and will never, step on his brother's toes.
Until he can't help himself.
It's your birthday. Sam got you a series of books he recommended to you last month. (Again, fucking nerds.) Dean got the booze and made the food to celebrate.
But you're surprised, and even a little teary when he brings out the cake he bought at an honest-to-God bakery. He even stood in line, waited 30 minutes to have them write your name on it, with little balloons. The frosting letters are drawn in your favorite color.
"Happy Birthday, sweetheart," Dean tells you. His tone is a little too soft. It's because he sees your unshed tears, and his heart clenches.
It's just a fucking cake.
Does it really matter that much to you?
But he still feels a well of warmth and pride in his chest. He turns to his brother with a smirk. "I win."
It's meant to be playful, but he kind of means it. Sam just eyes him knowingly.
"Sure," Sam laughs.
What the hell does that mean? Dean nearly frowns. But he's soon distracted — by you leaning in close to kiss him on the cheek.
He turns just in time (with slightly wider eyes) to see you blush.
That smile tells him something.
"Thanks, guys," you say to both of them. But your hand lingers on Dean's wrist, squeezing a bit.
At the end of the night, Sam turns in early. You stick around to help Dean clean up.
"Aw, stop. You're the birthday girl. I got this," Dean says, waving you off. You join him at the kitchen counter and lay a hand on his arm.
"Dean," you say softly. It earns his attention. You look a little nervous, your eyes falling from his, then meeting them again.
"What's the matter?" he asks. His brows furrow. He's thinking of your lips on his cheek. Unconsciously he glances down at your pretty mouth.
"Was wondering if you could help me with a birthday wish," you said.
A smile begins to tug at your lips, and Dean can't help but smile back. Intrigue, and a small tremor of something triggers up his spine.
"Oh yeah? What's that?" he asks.
You bite your lip. "Okay...I'm going to ask you this once. Yes or no. And if it's no...then we won't talk about it ever again and you'll have to wipe it out of your memory, because I don't want to make things weird or make you uncomfortable and I don't want to have to do something drastic, like leave the Bunker—"
Dean's smile falls as his brows raise in slight alarm. He also raises placating hands to stop your verbal flapping.
"Whoa, hey. What? What the hell kinda birthday question is this?"
You close your eyes and take a breath. "Okay."
Your eyes open, and as what happens far too often, Dean's captured by them.
"Close your eyes for me," you request.
"My eyes need to be closed to answer a damn question?"
"Damn it, Dean. Just do it, please!"
He lets out a slightly peeved breath, but he obliges you, shutting his lids. He really doesn't know what the hell is going on...until you lay a bracing hand on his chest and press a soft kiss to his lips.
For a moment, he freezes.
He inhales deeply through his nose as the surprise fades.
Relief floods in its wake.
A smile reaches his face.
But soon enough, before you can pull away, he grasps your upper arms to hold you in place. He dips his head down to kiss you in earnest. His lips find yours, gentle at first, and then gaining in passion.
He learns quickly the pattern of your lips, and the heady feeling of that knowing travels straight to his brain, stronger than the whiskey he drank earlier.
It's like you two were made to move together. To end up just like this.
You both are breathless by the time your eyes slide open and meet one another.
Dean's lips curve into a smirk. "How's that answer for ya?"
Your smile is beaming bright.
"Yeah, that works."
Chuckling, he pulls you in closer and tugs a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushing your blush-warmed cheek.
And he answers you again.
AN: Ugh, I'm sappy as hell. 😂 Hope you liked this! Let me know what you think. 😉
Read Sam’s version: “Sam reads you wrong.”
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#Dean reads you wrong#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester x you#dean winchester x female reader#reader requests#ask me stuff#dean winchester#sam winchester#dean winchester fic#spn#supernatural#zepskies answers
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Hello there! I do hope you are doing well! I was wondering if I could request a Hazbin Hotel imagine with Alastor x reader?
Maybe the reader works at the Hotel and has for some time but is missing her life back with the living, so she heads to the kitchen to make some comfort food. Reader is from the South like Louisiana or Mississippi and makes Jambalaya. As she is cooking and dancing around the kitchen, Alastor is drawn in by the familiar smells and sit down and lots of fluff ensues?
Maybe they get together at the end?
Thank you so much and have a wonderful day/night! :)
One O'Clock Dinner
Alastor x homesick fem reader
Note: I decided to just have Y/n be from New Orleans as I'm not too familiar with United States' topography. Not my greatest work but still enjoyable!
Word count: 2174
Alastor definitely wasn't your ordinary demon. He was a ruthless overlord that concurred hell when he just arrived. His terrifying broadcasts were planted in almost everyone's memory, well except those that died when he had mysteriously disappeared. One of them was a certain demon from Louisiana.
Y/n had lived in New Orleans since she was a baby and never knew a different home until the day she died and was cast down to hell. She knew she wasn't the best person during her life but she wouldn't really consider herself so bad to be cast down to hell for eternity, a decade in purgatory maybe. Alas purgatory did not exist, so she was stuck there.
Until half a year after she arrived, she saw a news broadcast of Charlie Morningstar and her redemption program. Everyone had laughed at the princess but Y/n saw this as her chance. She made her way over and signed into the Happy Hotel.
Th Radio Demon knocked on the door only a few minutes after she had checked in.
"Alastor, darling, pleasure to be meeting you! Quite the pleasure!"
Y/n had heard whispers about him but nothing that went into detail, so she eavesdropping on Vaggie telling the story to Angel. The man seemed very dangerous. Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea after all.
"So we're is your hotel staff?"
Charlie had agreed to take Alastor's help and now he was going around the room seeing what everyone could do.
"What about you, dear?" He had seemingly teleported right in front of Y/n, startling her.
"I-" She stumbled over her words as the Radio Demon's big red eyes were right staring at her. "-I can cook, I guess."
"Wonderful! As for the rest, I suppose I can cash in a few favours." He proceeded to summon a cat, bat like demon who became the bartender and front desk personnel, and a small cyclops demon who would take care of all the cleaning.
As much as she started to enjoy being around these people, Y/n quickly became tired as she had never been able to rest easily after landing in hell.
Before she could leave, however, the wall was blown up. A zappelin floated high on the sky. The demon inside it challenged Alastor but was easily defeated by the overlord.
She stared at the left over rubble. "I'm going to bed." Y/n swiftly left and made her way upstairs to her room.
A week went by and everywhere she went, Y/n felled someone staring at her in the shadows. She wasn't sure who nor why they were interested in her. It was making her squeezy, so much so that every time someone tried to talk to her, she jumped.
"Sorry Angel, didn't see you there!"
"Nifty! Where did you come from?"
"Oh! Husk, right just Husk."
The worst time it happened she was walking up the stairs, looking over her shoulder to search for whomever was following her. Y/n walked right into someone and almost fell from the stairs. Luckily that person caught her.
"You ought to look where you're going darling!" The Radio Demon helped her up the rest of the staircase. "Can't have our staff get hurt, you would be difficult to replace!"
"I'm sure there are other demons in hell who can cook. Besides didn’t you cook the other day?" She asked.
"Well yes, but they wouldn't be half as interesting as you!" Alastor smiled.
When Alastor had first arrived he saw her sitting there. The demon didn't seem to recognize him, sitting in her own little world. He had to admit that the girl was attractive but that wasn't what irked him, no, there was something about her.
From that day on he started observing Y/n, trying to figure out what was so special about her. He had found out she just died half a year ago. He learned about her skills and hobby's, he also had to admit that her cooking was amazing. Maybe even better than his, maybe.
The only reason the Radio Demon had kept his cooking in higher regard was because hadn't tasted any of her southern Louisianan dishes.
Alastor was watching her form the other side of the room. Y/n looked around while walking up the stairs, when she slipped. He quickly moved through the shadows and caught the girl. Her wide eyes were looking up at him. The Radio Demon couldn't get enough of them. How he wished to steal those eyes... He swiftly said his goodbye and disappeared into his room.
Why did he do that? There was no reason to intervene, but he did like the feeling of holding them... Alastor started to scold himself. Perhaps he is just hungry? He hadn't eaten demon for quite some time.
That night he went out and hunted down his victim. The first floor was empty, everyone was asleep. Alastor brought his bag of 'groceries' to the kitchen. He grabbed the left-overs of that night's dinner and mixed in the fresh meat. The mixture of his favourite food and Y/n's cooking was heavenly.
Even when his hunger was satiated, Alastor couldn't stop thinking about her. Something was definitely wrong with him. He kept think about her, her stupid smile and her jokes. The Radio Demon hadn't actually held many conversations with the girl but he had stalked observed her enough to know what kind of person she is.
Alastor knew her and yet, he craved for more. To not only be around her but to make her smile, genuinely smile, and to understand her.
Another two weeks went by and the horrible feeling of being watched only got worse. Now the spectator was even following Y/n into her room. She became more and more reserved, didn't even introduce herself when sir Pentious joined the hotel. Y/n started crying herself to sleep at night, she wished she was still alive with her family. She missed them.
Unconsciously she made her way to the kitchen and rummaged through the fridge. She was craving the food from her home and by chance she had just the right ingredients. Y/n put on her apron.
The Radio Demon was pacing around the room. Y/n hadn't been her usual charming self for the past week. She was quiet and always looking around. It made his gut wrench, what could she be so hung up about that she was crying herself to sleep?
Alastor's curiosity had grown to an obsession and he knew it. He didn't just want her to be happy, he needed her to be happy. When she wasn't, he was restless.
As the Radio Demon was weighing his options, a familiar scent attacked his nostrils. It gave him a moment of peace. He made his way down the stairs, following the smell like he was in a trance.
Someone was singing in the kitchen. He opened the door to find Y/n cooking and swaying to her own tune. For the first time in two weeks, Y/n had a smile on her face.
"And what are you cooking up at one in the morning?" Alastor looked over her shoulder. "You should be getting your beaty sleep, darling."
"I was just really craving it," Y/n explained after she got over the scare of him standing there all of a sudden. "I wasn't able to sleep."
"What are you making?"
"Just some Jambalaya." She lifted up the lid to show him. "I'm also preparing beignet's."
Alastor looked at the dough, which were waiting for the oil to heat up. "Louisianan?"
"Yeah, I'm from New Orleans." She lifted up one of the beignets and dropped it in the pan. "Learned from the best chefs in the city." The dough slowly turned a darker brown.
"That's such a coincidence! I grew up in Orleans too!" He took another whiff of the Jambalaya. "Mind if I join you?"
"If you set the table."
"It's a deal, my dear!" Alastor joked, even getting a chuckle out of the girl. The sound shot straight to his heart. Oh, how he wished his microphone had recorded it.
When the Jambalaya and the beignets were ready, the two sat down and ate VERY late dinner, or rather early breakfast. It was a surprisingly domestic scene. The two went along well.
"Yeah, I grew up in the big city too. Back then it looked a lot different though. It was overrun by secret speakeasies those were the days." He mused over the past.
"I wouldn't be able to imagine for those being illegal! Hey, what did you do to get send to hell?" Y/n so daringly asked. "I heard you were pretty powerful ever since you first got here."
"Oh well," Alastor blushed like a high school girl telling someone about their embarrassing crush, "I was a serial killer. Ate up my victims and threw their leftovers in the bayou."
Y/n spat out her drink. "Wait!" She screamed while coughing. "You are THAT Alastor. They teach about you in history classes!"
"Do they now? I suppose I was quite the man."
"I wouldn't say that," Y/n mumbled, "But it is impressive how you climbed up the ranks here in hell. I almost feel safe sitting around you." She looked at Alastor's widening smile again. "Almost."
"Why wouldn't you feel safe my dear?" Alastor questioned. "The Hazbin Hotel had both me and the princess of hell protecting it."
"I might sound... Crazy, but I feel like someone has been watching me." She looked down, even though she didn't feel the eyes on her right now. "I haven't been doing too well because of it."
The reason she hadn't been her usual self was because he was freaking her out. It all clicked now for the Radio Demon.
"Well then I have to apologise." Alastor used his shadows to move right behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You see, I have been keeping an eye on you. It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable."
"You have been stalking me?"
"No, no my dear. Just... Observing," the Alastor corrected her.
"Tomato tomato." Y/n looked up into his terrifying, red eyes. "And why has the infamous Radio Demon been stalking me?"
"Observing!"
"Just answer the question."
"..." He sighed, "I'm not too sure either. The only way I could describe it is you interest me."
"Well, next time you can just knock on my door. I prefer not to be watched during my cry sessions."
"Oh, but I loved hearing you sing when you thought no one was there."
The two started laughing, treating the stalkerish behaviours of Alastor as a joke.
"No but really, stop. It's creepy!"
"If the lady demands it."
The night went on long after the dinner was over. In a moment of confidence, Y/n implied that she was interested in seeing his radio tower and Alastor happily brought her there. She shuttered walking up the stairs into the little booth.
"Take a seat." Alastor pulled back the chair and when she sat down, scooted it up to the desk.
He started to explain what all the buttons and switches where for and how the antenna's send out radio waves or whatever. Y/n was only listening to half of it. The other half of her attention on Alastor's face. She had never realised how handsome the deer demon truly was. And his voice was incredibly soothing, at least for those who weren't scared of him.
His big eyes were beautiful and his wide smile was incredibly charming. Y/n's eyes drifted up to his head. His ears looked soft and fluffy, she wondered if she would ever get the chance to touch them. The antlers sticking out of his hair gave him a more manly appearance, contrasting the cute ears.
Y/n started leaning into him, getting incredibly close to his face.
"And these make sure tha-" Alastor immediately stopped talking when he turned his head and realised how close the two really were.
His nose was touching hers and he could feel her breath. Alastor's heart started pounding harder and harder, a slightly red blush decorated his face matching his attire and his eyes stared right into hers. He could only think about how beautiful she was.
Unconsciously he moved closer and closer and so did she. Until their lips touched. Y/n took this chance to deepen the kiss.
It lasted only a minute but to the two of them it felt like forever. They wished to keep going, however, they were unable to keep in their breath for that long.
As they pulled apart from one another, the realisation dawned on them. It was quiet.
They went back to their own room, neither of them dared to say a word. Perhaps it was just a fluke or perhaps this would grow out into more. Whatever Y/n was going to do about it could wait for tomorrow, it was 3 am after all and she was tired.
For the first time in weeks, Y/n fell asleep with a smile.
Masterlist/request guidelines
#hazbin hotel#reader insert#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel requests#x reader#reader requests#alastor the radio demon#alastor x you#alastor x reader#alastor hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin alastor
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Hello, there ♡ I saw your requests are back open and I was wondering if I could request some more Thranduil smut where the reader (female human) has a nightmare or is just deeply upset over something (whichever you prefer) and he comforts her, but then it slowly turns into a slow burn fuck sesh 🔥🔥 thank you so much. I hope you are having a good week.
Well hello there! I had a great week, I hope it was the same for you! Now, onto your request.
"Light after darkness"
✨Pairing: Thranduil x Fem. Reader (Human / Second person POV)
✨Themes: Some angst | Smut | Soft
✨Warnings: Insecurity (Reader) | Mentions of imprisonment/torture | PTSD | Kissing | Fingering (Fem. receiving)| Body worship | Nicknames | Explicit language | Mild dirty talk | Penetrative sex | Cream pie
✨ Word count: 3k words
✨Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 18+
Summary: A bad nightmare and waking up in the dark ends up with something much lighter and sweeter.
✨ Author's notes: "Girdle of Varda" is a band of countles stars similar to the Milky Way.
Want to be tagged? Want to know the rules? Read all here.
The vision returned, darker and more sinister this time.
It started as an inky black mist rolling in, and the world went dark. Lightning struck like a lance, its flash splitting the sky, but little could be seen, save for shadows in the gloom. Ugly things, ones only found in the darkest pits, slithered about, muttering in a tongue that was foul and torturous to listen to. There were flashes of terror and suffering, and there was laughter, coldness, and cruelty. There was the glint of steel, of eyes glinting like red, hot coals. And the pain, sharp and intense, returned, with memories of a dark time flooding in like waves crashing over jagged rocks.
And that flood only grew, with those waves rising higher and higher. Your heart lurched at the next flash of lightning, at the glint of a sword, at the sound of a beast pounding over muddy earth. You caught the subtle sheen of armour, the agonizing sounds of frantic screams. Red eyes flashed in the darkness again, hot and angry this time, rushing towards you, and then —
"Starlight?" a comforting voice called out from the darkness, pulling you out of the dream and slowly into waking. "Starlight, are you all right?"
You jerked awake, a silent scream trapped in your throat. The utter clarity and terror of that nightmare left you shaken and cold, and you trembled, your eyes barely making out the outlines of a large room. "It's dark," you said in a panic, your chest heaving heavily. "Why is it dark?"
You heard nothing, save for the muffled sound of feet over thick carpets. A candle was lit, its soft, golden light dispelling some of the gloom. Someone walked over to the large, arched windows, opening them to a wide expanse of the night sky. Sheer drapes fluttered in the cool breeze. And how beautiful the sky was! Countless stars glittered against an endless field of inky black, with the Girdle of Varda and a pale full moon standing out against them all. How comforting it was to see that sky after weeks of darkness, the light of that candle, but most important of all, the face of the ellon who made his way back to your side.
"Are you well, starlight?" He studied you, his eyes filled with growing worry. "You were struggling in your sleep."
"Bad dreams again," you tried to take a deep, steadying breath to try and compose yourself. "From before and..." You began to weep then, shedding sad, bitter tears, as the memory of your capture kept flooding back. Thranduil felt helpless, unable to defend you from an enemy he could not fight or even see. It made him angry—so very angry, that he couldn't shield you from the horrors that plagued you some nights. In the end, he settled on the one thing he could do. He joined you in bed, gathering you in his arms and holding you while you wept.
Tears fell, hard and relentless, and you clung to Thranduil's robes, your chest heaving painfully against his. And Thranduil refused to let go, holding you silently without complaint. His presence was a great comfort, and his touch was soothing. You lost track of time, so lost were you in your grief. And it slowly passed, with your tears easing and your sobs quieting. The pain you felt ebbed, and yet you felt empty instead of light.
"Do you wish to talk about it, starlight?" Thranduil's voice was warm and deep as it cut through the haze.
"Tis the same as before," you choked, nestling into him. "A foul mist and lightning. Daggers and those ugly red eyes. Then a sword flashed in the darkness. Your elk pawing at the earth. Screams." Your eyes drifted down, to your exposed left arm. "The pain."
Thranduil ran a careful finger over the scars on your forearm, a gift from your orc captors. "Does it still hurt?"
You shook your head. "Not anymore. But I can still feel the blade. And I hate it. I hate how it looks. How it makes me look." You sniffled again when you went over those scars, all words, all in the black tongue of Mordor. No amount of healing could make them go away, and you were bound to carry them for the rest of your days. "I feel ugly."
How Thranduil hated it, hearing you talk like that. He couldn't bear to hear you talk of yourself that way. "You are beautiful starlight, and it pains me to hear you talk of yourself that way."
"But look at these!" You cried and stuck out your arm, so he could see. "They will never go away, so how can you say that I am?"
Thranduil took your hand into his and lifted it to his lips. "I am not blind to them, starlight. I say you are beautiful because you are. Remember your first night after waking up?" His pulse scrambled with each little kiss when his lips pressed against your skin, at the scent that filled his lungs—the sweet scent of you. "When you were strong enough to dine with the rest of us?"
Your cheeks warmed; how could you forget? Thranduil was the first to rise when you walked in, his eyes fixed on you and no other. He had insisted you sit next to him, and he spent almost the entire night talking and dancing with you. "I thought you had never seen a mortal before me," you managed a weak smile.
"Hah!" Thranduil guffawed, his lips skimming over your fingers. "Mortals, I deal with plenty. You on the other hand? I have never seen anyone like you, and I could not keep my eyes off you. You were a vision that night... You are a vision, starlight. I wish we had met under happier circumstances, but I am glad we did. I would not change the past several moons for anything."
You barely remembered the first few days of your rescue. All you did have were hazy memories of that battle, of opening your eyes and seeing Thranduil for the first time, the fall of his silver-blonde hair, the steel of his armor, the cloak that kept you warm on the ride back to his halls. Still, those first memories of him, blurred as they were, were so precious to you. "I would not change one thing either, save for maybe this."
Thranduil's lips left your fingers and trailed down your arm, barely skimming over the scars. "You are beautiful, starlight," he breathed softly. "Will you let me show you just how beautiful you are?"
You hummed sweetly, all too aware of the heavy thud of your own heart. And to have him take his time to make you feel good? Well, you were not going to say no to that. "Yes," you said, your breath hitching when his eyes darkened.
Thranduil took his time, slowly unburdening you of your robes and unburdening himself of his. He started by touching you first, letting his hands glide all over your body, slowly and gently, like he was touching you for the first time. And he trembled, his breath soft and tremulous, his hands shaking as they continued with their gentle exploration. "Just feeling your naked skin against mine is enough to make me weak," he murmured, delighting in the little gasp he heard. "So soft, and I cannot get enough of it."
His touch slowly grew insistent, and his light brushes grew a little rougher, a little greedier. His hands were everywhere, over your thighs, your belly, the soft swell of your breasts, deft fingers kneading at your flesh. You shivered, your body slowly easing over soft, silk sheets, your fingers digging into the fabric. Thranduil saw this and groaned under his breath. He had only just begun.
He moved over you, his thighs pushing yours apart. Propping himself on one elbow, Thranduil continued with his exploration, his soft, luscious lips just hovering over yours. His free hand kept gliding over your belly, over trembling muscles, and his eyes locked on you. And those eyes of his, burning bright even in the light of that single candle, the blue of them as vibrant as a clear morning sky. That was the only first clear memory you had of him after your rescue: opening your eyes and finding him looking down at you on the ride back. A gasp then ripped through you when his hand came back to your breasts, stroking the soft skin, his fingers drawing little circles, then pinching lightly at first, then growing rougher, until it felt like your entire body was aching. Flushed and breathless, you moved a hand over his, trying to guide him.
"No," Thranduil gently ordered, his lips brushing over yours. "Not tonight."
You swallowed and moved your hands over your head, your body pulsing as he continued, brushing his fingers over your throat, your lips, and your eyelids.
You were everything he wanted, needed, even. And he didn't stop. Not with his hand, not with his lips. Thranduil kept brushing his lips over yours, savouring the sweetness of your mouth and he felt it—the slow pin-pricks of desire smolder and grow stronger, degree by slow degree. Hunger threatened to overcome him, but he forced himself to hold back just a little longer. He wanted to taste more of you first.
Your back arched against him, and you sighed helplessly when he dipped his head, his lips and his tongue leaving a damp trail in their wake. "I cannot get over how sweet you taste," he mumbled against your throat, his teeth nipping at your skin. "Just thinking about my lips against your skin is enough to make me hard."
You pulled away and looked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, searching for any sign of a lie or a tease. There was nothing but love and dark hunger burning in them.
"D-do you m-mean it?" you still asked, as doubt slowly sunk its claws into you. Thranduil was the Elvenking, an ellon who could have had anyone he wanted, and yet he chose you, a mere mortal with a scarred arm. His choice shocked many, and you were constantly worried despite his promise of devotion.
His eyes grew serious as his hand went lower, to the apex of your thighs. "I mean it, starlight, every word of it," his voice was thick and hoarse, a groan escaping his lips when you arched your back again, your mouth parting in a soft moan as his fingers rubbed up against your heat.
There was no talking now, just feeling. Thranduil watched, his blood heating at the sight of you writhing beneath him. He wanted to see, truly see, what pleasure was like on you, and he was not disappointed. Intoxicating, was what it was, and he took his time, drinking in the myriad of expressions that washed over your countenance—the looks of shock, desire, and pure ecstasy. Thranduil enjoyed it all, committing everything to memory.
"No starlight," he denied you when you tried to move your hand over his once more. "Not tonight. Let me take care of you."
Oh, how he took care of you, running the pads of his fingers over the warmth of your slit, your little pearl. And how it thrilled you—how it sent jolt after jolt of intense pleasure washing all over your body. Having to keep your hands to yourself and letting him take control—it all felt so wonderful and so very erotic. And then he slid a finger in, gently curling it around your pulsing walls, pulling shameless moan after shameless moan out of you.
"You are made for me," Thranduil's breath had grown ragged, his eyes feasting on the sight of you moving frantically, how you bucked against his hand. And how his heart pounded against his chest as you continued to writhe beneath him, your walls clenching around his finger. "Just me. And look at how glorious you are right now, starlight. Look at how your body responds... I could spend all day in our chambers like this, just watching you."
"Th-thranduil," you whimpered weakly, your body slowly unraveling beneath him. You were unsure what heated you more, his words or his touch. "D-dont stop. P-please."
The king growled in approval, his own body aflame. "That first night with us," he crooned huskily, his lips skimming over the shell of your ear. "When you came to eat with us, and I saw you, I thought I had strayed into a dream. I could not keep my eyes off of you, starlight."
"M-more," you pleaded, your body tingling at his words, your muscles tightening more and more with each passing second. "P-please my k-king."
Thranduil was almost undone by that alone. And he felt it—your thighs shaking, your walls slowly tightening. He withdrew his finger and positioned himself, his lips just a hair's breadth over yours. "Your body is intoxicating," he breathed, trembling when the tip of his cock rubbed against your slick. "Fuck," he mumbled, his very breath shuddering. Thranduil swallowed and forced himself to focus. He was not going to move along blindly. He wanted you to feel as much pleasure as he did.
And you could no longer bear not touching him. You could no longer bear this waiting. You reached over, twining your arms around his broad shoulders and tracing lines between his shoulder blades. "I'm ready," you whispered. "Please, my king. I need to feel you inside of me again."
Thranduil's gaze cut to yours. There was nothing but lust shining in his eyes and it thrilled you to have him look at you like that.
"Please," you pleaded once more. "I need you inside me."
Thranduil hesitated briefly. Just briefly. He looked at you, eyes filled with reverence, his free hand brushing over your hair. You looked up at him, the two of you staring at each other in wonder. There was a pause. The very air seemed to still. And then, his mouth captured yours in a kiss. His kiss seared, his mouth hot and hungry as his lips plundered yours. Your heart fluttered when he pressed himself against you and his tongue licked past your parted lips to dip into the warmth of your mouth. A noise rose at the back of your throat, a soft, needy moan, something dark and sinful, enticing him to kiss you even more. Your arms tightened over his shoulders, and your legs scrambled for purchase against his hips. You felt it—him piercing your core, his cock sinking inch by slow inch, pushing you deeper into the bed. And oh, how good it felt to have him inside you, filling you to the hilt. Belonging to him, just him. Oh, how you loved that, knowing you were his. And then he moved. His first thrust ripped a gasp out of you; the second, a dreamy sigh.
Thranduil was slow and deliberate. His thrusts were gentle and steady, as if he didn't want to shock you, or cause you pain. All you could do was cling to him, your body tightening again with each passing moment. It was always like this, always so good, and only he could make you feel like this, take you higher and higher, to places you have never been before.
Thranduil's breath quickened and grew ragged. He grunted when your hands moved up and buried themselves in his thickhair. Those grunts grew deep and gutteral and turned to moans every time you tugged, every time you pulled him closer to you. Feeling your naked skin against his hammered at his restraint, and he slowly picked up the pace, going harder and faster, his hips slamming against the inside of your thighs. His moans matched yours, his free hand kept gripping at your hip, so he could go deeper. And how he loved it, how you held him, how your body responded to him.
"You are perfect starlight," he rasped, rough and deliberate, when your hands moved back down to his shoulders and your nails dug into his skin. Thranduil didn't mind it one bit, for it meant you found pleasure in what he was doing. "You are perfect even with your scars, and I would not change a single thing about you."
You would have replied, but your answer was muffled by his kiss. It didn't matter. Hearing that he fully accepted you, scars and all, was enough. Seeing and hearing how strong his desire was for you was enough. You cleaved to him, your legs clinging desperately against his hips as he took you closer and closer to the edge. It was there, in the trembling of your thighs and in the quickening of your breath. Thranduil felt it—the coiling of muscles in his belly, the frantic pace of his breathing. "Together then?"
You looked up at him and nodded.
Moans spilled free and filled the room, drowning the sound of skin slapping against skin.Thranduil didn't let you go, not when your orgasm ripped through you and you cried for him, his name repeatedly rolling past your lips. Oh, how that shattered him—his name on your tongue, your walls clenching around his cock. Thranduil took you over the edge and fell with you, his moans peppering the air when those coiled muscles snapped, making him lose himself in you. You barely heard it, so caught up were you in your blissed-out state. You barely heard it, the satisfying grunt, the gruff, throaty moan. You felt his body trembling violently over yours before he spilled his seed inside you. One last thrust, one final moan, and he let go, propping himself on his hands to stop himself from collapsing over you.
You hear nothing, save for the sound of your choppy breathing and his. Only that and a sweet smelling wind that blew in through the windows. You opened your eyes to that glorious sky, those glittering stars, and the soft light of the moon. You hungered for such sights, to see light after being kept in the darkness for so long, and Thranduil made it possible again, in more ways than one.
"My king," you breathed when Thranduil moved to his side, taking you with him. The strength of his arms and the gentleness of his touch were nearly enough to make you forget. Nearly. The memories will always remain, but you knew you would be safe in his arms and that nothing could get to you now.
"My queen," Thranduil brushed his nose against your hair. He then started to hum an elven lullaby, his soft, soothing voice lulling you into a deep and peaceful sleep.
Tags: @shrasdust | @asianbutnotjapanese | @nupppuff | @ryantryan6969 | @viivi
#thranduil imagine#thranduil smut#thranduil x reader#Thranduil#The hobbit#the hobbit x reader#the hobbit imagine#reader requests#reader inserts#Asks#Writeblr#a world of whimsy writes
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Tranquility
Joshua Rosfield x fem reader
Minor spoilers, I guess? Fluffy fluff. Inspired by this request.
An exaggerated sigh comes from behind you, intent to draw your attention. You smile but continue to read, turning the page with minimal fuss.
You’ve been reading at the desk for a little while now, in the chambers the two of you have been assigned in the Hideaway. You’d be happy enough in the bunks, but Clive truly doted on his younger brother and he had organised a room formerly being used for storage to be repurposed – a bed, desk and chair quickly sourced and put in place.
Joshua is on strict bedrest under Tarja’s and Jote’s instructions. You hadn’t escaped orders either, been given a stern warning to leave Joshua in solitude– as if you’d want to delay him regaining his strength. You’d easily preoccupied yourself, having arrived at the Hideaway a few days prior with Jote and helping with various jobs. You were midway through bringing supplies in off the skiff when Clive had called your name on the pier, asking you to please go and keep Joshua company. It turns out Ifrit had found the Phoenix bent over on the staircase, coughing, a weary hand on the wall, determined to seek you out after being separated for so long.
It had been nerve-wracking to meet Clive in Tabor, Joshua’s sworn First Shield, especially with the unique courtship you and Joshua had. You weren’t betrothed or wed for that matter, but you lived as if you were, and you were sure the brothers would have so much to catch up on that Joshua might not have even had time to mention you. You’d heard so many tales of Clive over the years, knew how special the brothers were to one another and so desperately hoped to make his approval.
You shouldn’t have worried. As soon as Joshua stepped foot in the building, he’d strode directly over to you, pulling you into a deep, brief kiss, before taking you by the hand over to Clive and Jill.
Though a little surprised, Clive had been nothing but kind, considerate and welcoming in the time you’d spent with him after their return from Kanver and bout with Odin – the reason as to why Joshua was confined to his bed.
“Darling, come here.” Joshua demands, softly. “Please.”
“You, my love, are meant to be sleeping.” You chide, eyes not leaving the page.
“Resting.” He corrects. “Which I would do far better at if you were by my side. Nay, in my arms, actually.”
You look over your shoulder to roll your eyes – he’s propped himself up against the pillows, his black shirt unlaced, hair a little mussed and looking so beautiful. You realize as soon as you meet his soft blue eyes that engaging with him had been a mistake. You can never resist that face. He could tell you to walk straight into the mouth of a Morbol in his loving cadence and, by Founder, you’d do it.
No.
You must steel your resolve. He needs to rest. The colour’s only started to return to his complexion in the last day or so and you do not wish to hamper any semblance of recovery.
You try and regain your composure. “I do not wish to be at the wrong end of Tarja or Jote’s wrath when-”
“My sweet one, I beg you.”
Mothers, you can’t resist that – even if you’d downed many a tonic. You pick up your book and get to your feet, before toeing off your boots, and make the short walk over to the bed to climb in besides him. He instantly takes your free hand, pressing his lips softly against the back of it.
“Thank you.”
“Mm-hm.” You hold your tongue, not wishing to encourage him further, though you know when it comes to Joshua and his affections he needs no influence to shower you in loving words and sweet gestures.
You go to return to your book, assuming he’ll rest now as you read besides him. That, however, turns out not to be his intention as he plucks the tome out of your hand with nimble fingers and places it down alongside him, just out of reach.
“Joshua…”
“It has been so long since we could just enjoy each other’s company, although I know that was at my behest. And now we are here… Well, I admire and respect Jote greatly, but to be truly alone in your company has become all too rare an occurrence.”
The Phoenix’s attendant was nothing but loyal, but sometimes her presence grew a little… suffocating, through no fault of her own. She was tasked with Joshua’s protection – his healer, his blade, his warden – and you were nowhere near skilled as her in those areas of expertise. You greatly admire her for her patience with him too – it was certainly hard to rein Joshua in at times.
“No, you are right. It has been a while.”
It felt like you’d been trekking across the continent non-stop the past while, poking around Fallen ruins, researching where you could, before he’d, reluctantly, sent you to Tabor to reside under Cyril’s watchful eye as set out to infiltrate Prince Dion’s camp to seek his aid. Your reunion in Tabor had been all too brief – he’d then sent you to the Hideaway alongside Jote to offer assistance there whilst his new party set forth to Kanver.
And Odin.
You don’t like to dwell on that – that Barnabas had split the sea with a swipe of his sword.
How easily could he have split Joshua in two?
“We should savour these moments.” He says, softly.
He draws shapes on your palm – it’s a nervous habit, you’d noted. He used to dance flames between his fingertips before he discovered this settled him just as well.
“You are thinking too much.”
“Impossible.”
Often, you would catch him standing or sitting in place, an arm across his chest, his other arm balanced upon it whilst he cups his chin, deep in contemplation. Sometimes so deep in thought, you’d resorted to peppering his face in kisses to get him to return to you.
You’re too used to this particular look, the responsibilities of the Phoenix resting too heavily on his shoulders.
“I disagree.” You place a tentative hand on his chest, hovering over that burden encased within. “Are you in pain?”
“No.” You stare at him for a moment, gauging whether it was a white lie across his tongue. His eyes seem sincere as he meets yours – he could never truly lie to you.
You scoot forward and swivel, carefully placing yourself across his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck loosely and in returns he brings you in closer.
After all this time, his cheeks still flush a little to have you pressed against him.
“And to what do I owe this pleasure?”
“You need to rest and, to do so, you must take a respite from thinking of Ultima.”
He opens his mouth to protest, but you press your forehead against his before he can utter a word, and you move a hand to caress his cheek.
“And rather than exhaust yourself further chasing answers you cannot currently seek, mayhaps for now you can think of my touch and of how much I love you.” You whisper, tenderly.
“Sweet one, that thought has never once strayed from my mind - this is all because I love you. I want you to have the world.”
“I already do. You are it.” You tilt his chin up, pressing a soft, tender kiss to his lips. There’s a phantom taste of iron – too many times had you kissed your Phoenix’s bloody mouth in relief. “So, please, rest.”
He buries his head into your neck then, pressing a kiss or two to your throat, making your heartbeat quicken. “Can we stay like this?”
“Of course, love. Just close your eyes, mm?”
He nods, nuzzling in softly, the tip of his nose tickling your skin. You smile, closing your eyes, being close to him, being held like this is always so relaxing, your worries evaporating. It isn’t long before your breathing synchronizes and the two of you are slowly lulled to sleep, feeling content, safe and loved.
--
Clive doesn’t knock, forgetting himself, forgetting he’d sent you to sit with Joshua earlier too, and opens the door in a hurry. He has a vial of freshly brewed medicine from Tarja to deliver, but the scene before him stops him before he can voice his intentions.
Joshua is asleep, for one. He hadn’t even stirred at the sound of door opening. The Phoenix is propped up against the pillows and you are still wrapped in his arms, one hand spread flat over his heart. Joshua’s head is against the crook of your neck whilst yours lays upon his, both deep in slumber.
The two of you look so peaceful.
“It’s rude to stare.” Jill jokes softly, wrapping an arm around Clive’s waist. He smiles down at her lovingly before he presses a kiss to the side of her head. How sweet it was that he and his brother had been blessed with you and Jill.
“Yes. I forgot they’d be together – I was tasked with delivering Joshua’s medicine, but…” He trails off, it goes without saying he does not wish to disturb such a tranquil scene.
“It can wait.” Jill smiles at the two of you. “Joshua has all the medicine he needs.”
--
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Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi
#ghostdogwrites#joshua rosfield x female reader#joshua rosfield x you#joshua rosfield x reader#ff16 x you#ff16 x reader#ffxvi x reader#reader requests
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Kinktober is Here!
Fall is upon us, depraved sexual acts are in full bloom. Please enjoy Day 1: Cuckolding + Forced Voyeurism (don't panic, it's not what you might think. Or maybe it is, if I like the way you think).
There's also a Kinktober playlist, which is ongoing from last year with more added and more to come (cum? coom?).
PS: forced voyeurism was originally called "audience" but I changed it to be more accurate.
#kinktober#data soong#commander data#lore soong#lore star trek#datalore#x reader#reader insert#reader requests#fanfic#fanfiction#smut
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