#this song shredded my soul | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raginglesbian2006 · 3 months

Text

Ne Me Quitte Pas

Alastor x angel!reader

Chapter 1: The Song is Ended (But the Melody Lingers on)

Chapter Warnings: Murder, Mentions of rape, Death

The song is ended

But the melody lingers on

You and the song are gone

But the melody lingers on

Masterlist

"Have you ever been in love, Alastor?"

The radio static screeched to a halt. Charlie winced at this, covering her ears.

"What brought you to question this, dear?" Alastor asked after recovering from the initial shock, his ever-present grin looking a bit strained.

Charlie chuckled awkwardly. "Well..," she pointed at the pendant that hung around his neck, sitting atop his garments, "I see you with that beautiful pendant around your neck all the time and you're very protective of it.... so I was just wondering," she trailed off.

Alastor let out a laugh, "Oh my dear, this is nothing," he lied, "Love. What a ridiculous notion!"

Charlie could not help but not believe him, but she let it go anyway; bidding farewell to the radio demon to search for her girlfriend.

Alastor was left alone in his thoughts. His hands reached up to touch the little trinket he sought to wear religiously around his neck.

No, this wasn't nothing. This was everything.

As he walked through the halls of the hotel to reach his room, his mind lingered on you. You were the one who gave him this pendant. You were the one who stole his heart.

Yes, he was in love once. Still is.

He remembers the time he met you- when you became his safe haven. He remembers when you had to leave, far from him and he could do nothing about it.

He also remembers meeting you again- the memory etched in his mind.

It was a bright sunny morning in Louisiana. Alastor was in his studio, narrating the tragic news of the New Orleans Boogeyman striking again. This time, hunting down and killing the nation's "hero", the son of a military veteran. Arnold Miller had followed in the footsteps of his father and had joined the army. His brilliant feats of achievements served as a source of inspiration for every lad in America, more importantly in New Orleans, since it was his place of origin. To everyone else, Arnold was a good soul, always ready to help out people, never backing down from serving the nation he loved so much.

Everyone, except Alastor. Alastor knew of his true nature. Arnold was accustomed to luring in girls - often against their will- taking their dignity, ripping them to shreds, and leaving them to pick up the pieces in front of the ever-scrutinizing society. He used to brag about his "escapades" to his pals, unafraid that anyone would turn against him. Everyone loved him after all. Moreover, he saw no fault in his actions.

Alastor was more than willing to show him his flaws. He regretted not taking care of him earlier, jeopardizing the safety of so many women. But at least he was gone, having faced the end of Alastor's blade. No one would have to deal with another scum like him anymore.

His radio show went on as usual, after the initial murder reports.

He talked about the daily humdrum around the locality, cracked a few jokes on the ever-changing economy, and suggested stores that sold excellent formal wear. This was a routine he'd come to love during his time as a radio host. He was satisfied with the predictability of his shows, and his life by extension.

All in all, he was happy with the hand he was dealt with.

"That is all for today, folks! Be sure to lock your doors tonight and refrain from walking alone at night. You never know when the Boogeyman might jump up behind you!" he chuckled, "And don't forget to smile! You're never fully dressed without one!"

He turned off his feed and sighed as he slumped against his chair. He couldn't wait to go back home already. His ma, although sick, had pestered him to never skip a day of his work. She'd told him he looked miserable whenever he did skip work and she wished nothing but happiness for him.

He assured her that he was happy to stay at home to take care of her but her stubbornness knew no bounds.

"I suppose I do get my grit from her," he wondered.

He took off his headphones and stood up from his chair, stretching his long limbs in the process. He started cleaning up his station, when suddenly he heard a knock.

"Come in," he said, not looking up at the opening door.

"Mr. Alastor!" a chirpy voice greeted him.

It was the young lad he had hired for the smooth running of his little business. Oliver had been thrown to the streets having been unable to pay his rent and Alastor had found him shivering in a corner of the street. Taking pity on him, the radio host offered him a job and a place to stay near the studio. Since then, Oliver had become a rather loyal help to him. Had it not been for his astounding marketing skills, Alastor's radio show would've been far from popular.

"Ah, Oliver!," Alastor hummed, still not looking up at him. He was rather busy making sure his studio was left prim and proper, "Do tell me, how can I be of service?"

Oliver was jumping with excitement, "Well, remember we were having a chat on how the radio station needed a few more hands to handle it, given its booming popularity?"

Alastor hummed as he repositioned the antiquities his mother had gifted him when he opened his studio.

"Well, I found someone willing to take on the ever-daunting task!" Oliver exclaimed and stepped aside, "Meet our newest employee!"

Alastor, still stuck in his own world didn't look up until he heard a sweet voice ringing through.

"Greetings, Mr. Alastor!"

His hands paused for a second. This voice... he'd recognize it anywhere. He turned around abruptly and finally looked at his overexcited acquaintance and the recently recruited employee.

It was you. His breath got caught up in his chest.

"Salutations," he said softly, his mind still not having caught up with the fact that you were in front of him, alive, "May I ask what your name is?"

You uttered what he had wanted to hear. His eyes could not believe it. After all these years, he was finally able to see you. The very person who'd become his safe haven when he was young, the person who'd comforted him during those dark times- when he ran away from home, when he felt scared and alone, the person who'd given him the pendant he wore religiously around his neck before they left.

"Oliver, " he glanced at the boy, "Do go get them a drink. It is quite unsightly for us to not treat the newest addition to our business."

Despite your protests, Oliver nodded his head and ran out the door, eager to please his boss.

When the door closed shut, Alastor let out the breath he was holding in since he saw your face.

He muttered your name, "Dear, is it really you?"

Your eyes blinked for a few seconds before they scrunched up with your growing smile, "I was wondering if you'd forgotten me, Al."

Alastor laughed in disbelief, "Forget you? What utter nonsense. Forgetting you would be a sin so great that even Lucifer would shy away from it."

He slowly approached you, "Besides, " his hands went up to the pendant, "How could I afford to forget when you gifted me this?"

Your eyes shone and you giggled, "You still have that!" Your hands reached out to touch the pendant, but you hesitated and they stayed frozen in the space between the two of you.

Before you could apologize for invading his personal space, his hands drew yours closer. You stumbled forward, placing your hands on his chest, right over the pendant that lay atop it. You blushed at the sudden proximity. His hands slid up to your waist, holding you close. You dared to look up at him.

"By golly, you seem to have gotten much taller," you chuckled, pushing up his glasses that had slid down the slope of his nose, "Last I remember, you were still shorter than me."

His eyes and smile had grown softer, far from his usual demeanor.

"And you still look as beautiful as the day I lost you."

As if your face couldn't possibly get more heated, he managed to make it boiling hot. You tried uttering a response but stuttered halfway through. Taking pride in how he made you speechless, Alastor asked, "When did you arrive here?"

You finally found your voice, "O-oh, I just moved in yesterday! I needed a fresh new environment after having finished my schooling and I decided to come here. I was looking around for a job this morning when I stumbled upon Oliver and he offered me a position at your radio station!"

Alastor tsked, still holding you close, "Cher, you cannot just accept some stranger's proposal for a job. What if he lured you into something dangerous?"

"He told me about your radio show and I trust you with my life so...." you trailed off, looking sheepish.

Alastor chuckled as he shook his head. Letting go of you, he stepped back to pick up the coat that was hanging on his chair. Just as he was doing so, the door burst open to reveal Oliver with a piping hot kettle and a mug.

"I do apologize. Mr. Alastor here only likes drinking coffee so we have no other beverages available," Oliver explained, as he placed the utensils down on the nearby table.

"That won't be necessary now, dear boy," Alastor continued, "I'll be showing them around our city. Do keep the studio prepared and the articles ready for the evening broadcast."

And with that, he offered you his arm, "Shall we?"

You grinned and looped your arm around his and the two of you walked out, leaving behind a very confused Oliver.

"What just happened-"

Alastor's smile widened at the memory. He vividly remembers spending every waking hour with you beside him, now that he'd found you again. He had grown terribly attached to you, but you did not mind it one bit. You enjoyed the attention he showered you with and his company was something you looked forward to each day.

Oliver always joked about the two of you getting together. So it wasn't a surprise to him when you two eventually started courting each other. All he did was lament about being the miserable third wheel.

Alastor remembers how his daily "escapades" had reduced significantly with the more time he spent with you. He did not even realize that fact until the newspapers reported on the disappearance of the New Orleans Boogeyman.

His smile had strained when he'd read the article, his anger growing by every second. How dare they think of him as a coward?

However, all those thoughts dissipated at the sound of your voice. Oh, how you had captured his mind, body, and soul.

He introduced you to his ma soon after he started courting you. Although she couldn't see you properly, given her ailing health and age, she still welcomed you with open arms.

As he stopped going on his "hunts" frequently, his relationship with you grew stronger. You were there with him in every new chapter of his life. When he celebrated his 100th broadcast, you were there celebrating with him. When he experimented with his own twist on his mother's jambalaya, you were right there tasting his creation. When his mother eventually passed away, you were right there comforting him as he sobbed into your shoulder.

On his 30th birthday, you gave him a gift he'd treasure for the rest of his life. He had been complaining about how only one of his eyes had problems with vision and that wearing a pair of glasses proved to be detrimental to his other healthy eye. Taking that into consideration, you had gifted him a monocle. You apologized for how small the gift was and told him that he could return it if he wasn't pleased with it. He had silenced you with a kiss.

You were all he thought about. A life with you beside him was everything he wanted. That is why, he stood there in front of the jewellery shop, inspecting and choosing the perfect ring to propose to you with.

When he was satisfied with his pick, he had stored the little box inside his coat pockets. Oh, how he wished his ma was there to witness all of this. She had always wanted to see him married to someone, happily living the rest of his life under the love and care of his spouse.

Things were just perfect, more than ever before.

Until karma came knocking on his door. Literally. His dead heart still pains at the memory.

Alastor had never lost control of his life after he "took care" of his father. He prided himself on that. It was the control he was after, once he landed in hell and that is what made him a formidable overlord.

But the day he lost you? He'd never felt more helpless.

Alastor brushed some dirt off his clothes as he hummed to the tune of the radio playing in the background. His calm demeanor would fool most but he was undeniably nervous.

Today was the day he would ask you to be his, forever.

Alastor had called you to the little cabin he'd bought in the forest, which also served as his hunting ground- be it for deer or despicable humans.

No matter the atrocities he committed, one could not deny how beautiful the forest looked at night. Fireflies would scatter across the expanse of the land, making nighttime all the more lovelier.

Alastor had planned to get down on one knee with the night sky lit by stars and the glow from the fireflies. He believed it would be the perfect romantic atmosphere to propose to you.

Not long after, he heard a knock at the door. His smile grew impossibly large as he giddily opened the door. Instead of seeing you, however, his face was met with the end of a gun.

"See you in hell, murderer."

Alastor quickly ducked out of the way, letting the bullet whiz past him and hit the wall. The man who held the gun let out a grunt, displeased that his shot missed. Although the man was twice his size, Alastor was able to tackle him to the ground. Still, the man would not let go of his gun, leading the two of them to struggle for the weapon.

"You fucker- you deserve to die for what you did!" screamed out the man.

Alastor let out a laugh, his face looking strained, "I just did what those scums deserved."

In the middle of their struggle, the trigger was pulled once more and Alastor heard the gunshot. The bullet missed him again, this time shooting toward the entrance of the cabin. He hadn't looked away from his opponent for a moment, fearing he'd take advantage of the situation and kill him. However, his ears picked up a singular gasp.

His eyes widened as he looked towards the door, left ajar.

It was you.

Bleeding out of your skull.

Your eyes were wide as saucers, staring at Alastor. Your body trembled as you slid down the door, blood profusely dripping from your head and onto the wooden floors of the cabin. Then, with a loud thump, you fell back, taking your last breath.

Alastor felt his soul leave his body.

no...no...surely this was a dream, right?

Taking advantage of Alastor's vulnerability, the man shoved him aside and got up on his feet, pointing the gun at Alastor.

"Too bad the little missus had to go. It wouldn't have happened if you did not do what you did," the man sneered.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, Alastor took ahold of his gun and with all the strength in his body, pushed it out of the man's grasp. The gun flew to the side of the cabin, leaving the man unarmed.

Alastor stood up slowly, his facial muscles stretching in a maniacal grin. The man backed down slowly, his body trembling slightly.

"YOU. MADE. A. GRAVE. MISTAKE."

With that, Alastor pounced on the man and started beating him relentlessly, laughing all the while. He did not stop till the man's face had become red and blue beyond recognition and his chest stopped heaving.

Silence enveloped the cabin. In it was Alastor- his hands covered in blood, and two bodies. Alastor walked away from the dead body of the man and moved towards your lifeless figure.

Despite his maniacal grin still present, his eyes welled up with tears as he held your body close. His heart throbbed with immense pain and his mind turned foggy. All he could do was cry into your shoulder, wishing this was all a dream.

The night he was supposed to end with you as his spouse-to-be had now turned into him burying the love of his life. When he was done, he reached out for a stone and carved your initials on it, placing it atop your grave. He sat there for a while. His hands reached into his pocket and he pulled out the ring. He placed it on the stone.

His chest pained as he walked away from your grave. He would come back soon, he just had to dispose of the scum that decided to take his light away from him. Just as he started to turn the wheelbarrow that contained the remains of the man, he heard another gunshot.

This time, it did not miss.

Alastor fell to the floor of the forest. He sidled up to your grave painstakingly, abandoning the wheelbarrow. Blood poured rapidly from his head. Those god-awful hunters had shot him under the cover of this grim night. He somehow managed to rest himself against the tree that was situated right beside your resting place.

"Oh cher, " he wheezed out, "I suppose I wouldn't mind dying next to you."

As if things couldn't get worse, he heard the growls of the hunting dogs close by. His grin widened. So this was how karma came around, taking everything away from him. All that was left was himself.

His bleary eyes followed the imposing figures of the hunting dogs as they surrounded his dying body.

He reached out his hand towards the pendant.

Alastor couldn't even scream when the beasts tore into his body.

"Alastor?"

The radio demon turned towards the princess of hell, her hands laden with plans for the hotel.

"Yes, dear?"

Charlie hesitated, "You seemed a bit lost there. Are you ok?"

Alastor let out a laugh, "Just as jolly as the day I came to hell. Haha!"

Taglist: @yumiburrito , @candyladycry , @sleepykittycx

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x angel!reader

339 notes · View notes

astraystayyh · 13 days

Text

if you had read the story of hind raghab, if you had seen the picture of the child hanging from a pole, its lower body shredded, if you had seen the boy carrying pieces of his brother in a body bag, if you had known the soul of my soul, the story of refaat, and the countless war crimes israel has committed just in 7 months then you wouldn’t stream the song skz is putting out with charlie puth, a zionist and overall bad human, and that israeli producer. you would send a clear message that zionism isnt welcome in any capacity in any medium and you wouldn’t want to fund people who support its hateful ideology. this isnt a matter of being a skz anti and im so fucking tired of people painting it as such. where do you draw the line for your morals?

#‘im just here for the kids’ they will be fine if you dont stream one song #and even it they wouldnt be it doesn’t matter because human lives prevail profit #i just saw a fanbase raising 3500+ for this song #do u know what this kind of money could do for a family of palestinians rn #im so livid and it’s actually crazy that there isnt a general consensus about boycotting this song as it has been for cocacola #what’s different?#maybe u saw that this song could actually chart so u dgaf anymore about palestinian lives????#why would u even want skz to br associated with zionists in the long run???#im so mad like this is driving me insane #charlie puth is a nobody too like 😭 FREE US OH MY GOD #stray kids

194 notes · View notes

mi-i-zori · 1 month

Text

Breathe

Cod - Nikto x GN!Reader

SYNOPSIS : Nikto drinks blood like a starved beast.

WARNINGS : NSFW - 18+. Beware, this is kind of unhinged. Canon-typical violence, blood (Reader has periods - emphasis on period blood), Nikto (a warning in himself), blood/period kink (?), poetic smut, fluff.

Author’s Note : I have no idea why I keep using poetic sentences whenever I try to write smut, but hey. Guess its just how I am. A filthy romantic at heart.

I do not give anyone permission to re-publish, re-use and/or translate my work, be it here or on any other platform.

Nikto licks blood off his fingers on the daily like a starved beast, savouring a taste he knows will never fully satiate his hunger.

It does not matter if the crimson nectar is his or not ; he keeps engraving its flavour deep into his mind. It leaves a warm, metallic feeling in the back of his throat - one similar to the one lining the surface of the gun that was repeatedly shoved past his teeth after its bullets were lodged in-between his ribs, the thick ropes circling his wrists harvesting his own, personal flavour directly from his veins.

Both life and death flow past his tongue, carving countless nightmares in the few hours of sleep weighing heavy on his subconscious - dragging a never ending series of shuddering breaths up his oesophagus whenever he wakes.

He can never escape them, for reality is just as bitter as his dreams. So he drowns it it blood, gunpowder and alcohol, turning away from the shredded screams coming from his reflection in the mirror.

Until that moment.

Your face is pulled into a grimace as you tell him about the way one of your stupid coworkers shamelessly blabbered about how dirty he thinks period blood is, filling your head with somber thoughts at the idea that yours is quickly approaching.

You don’t see how his eyes light up when they fall upon the date circled in red on the calendar of your phone.

And it is only when his lips meet your bleeding walls for the first time, lapping at the tears running down the inside of your thighs with a newfound reverence blossoming on his tongue, that the spectre in his head finally goes silent.

You look like divine absolution, he thinks, watching with rapt attention as moans flow from your lips like a holy river. Lust fills his mind, body and soul as he wonders if edging you further would allow him to taste the stars running through your veins. Would the world end up falling apart with you ?

The thought of the Earth shattering like glass against the echo of your climax fuels the fire burning in his stomach.

So he keeps staining his mouth red with your blood and slick. War-torn hands hold your legs still around his head as his fingers pull at your flesh, moulding it to his will - and he growls loudly against your core, the waves of a supernova bursting through your entire body as a new orgasm shakes the very foundations of your universe.

Is it the third ? The fourth ? The fifth ? You stopped counting a few seconds after his mouth first latched on the sacred flower blooming between your legs, too lost in the song of your own pleasure.

Nikto doesn’t need anything more to find his own release. He then crashes on top of you as you both fall from your high, lips sharing the last remnants of your erratic, scorching breaths.

He lays there for the rest of the night, lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of your heartbeat - your divinity dancing on the back of his tongue.

The constellations lining your mind call out to him as he sleeps, flickering with the promise of finally carrying him away from the ruins of his heart. They light up his bones from below the thorns, and he would gladly sacrifice what is left of himself if it meant you could cradle them against your breast.

The warm softness of your skin soothes the pain still lingering in his scars, and he subconsciously cages your bare form in his arms as he drifts to the world of dreams.

He can finally breathe.

#cod nikto #call of duty nikto #mwii nikto #nikto #nikto x reader #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #cod mw2 #x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #smut #cod smut #i usually struggle when writing smut #but i wrote this so quickly #idk what possessed me #i enjoy poetic filth

245 notes · View notes

that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict · 4 months

Text

GUITARIST! HONGJOONG

Smut under the cut... I'm going crazy over him rn he's bias wrecking me so hard

CW: fingering, HONGJOONG'S FINGERS, mentions of mirror sex, slight dacryphillia

Guitarist!Hongjoong who loves playing on his black Ibanez for you, be it covers from your favourite indie band or songs that he's personally written for you

Guitarist!Hongjoong whose skillful fingers glide almost effortlessly along his guitar's fretboard, shredding out a soulful rhythm

Guitarist!Hongjoong who purposely wears chunky metal rings while playing in front of you because he knows you have a thing for his veiny hands

Guitarist!Hongjoong who knows very well what he's doing when he shreds out a fast-paced rift on his guitar, fingers skimming across the neck in a lightning-fast blur, his seductive, lust-filled gaze focused steadily on you

Guitarist!Hongjoong who chuckles when he notices you squirming subtly from watching him and his fingers, obliging to touch you only when you ask him to in a shaky voice

Guitarist!Hongjoong who doesn't even wait to put down his Ibanez, merely slinging it across his back from the leather strap before immediately going down on you

Guitarist!Hongjoong who teases you at how wet you are from just watching him not-so-innocently play the electric guitar, devilish smirk spreading across his features when you cover your face with your hands and whine

Guitarist!Hongjoong whose expert fingers find your g-spot almost immediately, every time, causing you to arch your back and whimper

Guitarist!Hongjoong who loves fingering you in front of a mirror, biting back a groan whenever he sees the glazed look in your eyes as you shamelessly watch him work at your needy hole

Guitarist!Hongjoong who loves edging you like this, loves seeing you whine and cry for more whenever his fingers pull away from your leaky cunt at any hint of an approaching orgasm, cooing when you peer up at him with teary, needy eyes

Guitarist!Hongjoong who, thanks to years of training his fingers through playing the instrument, knows exactly how to use his nimble fingers on you, giving you at least 2 orgasms before finally sinking his leaky cock into your folds

"You want my fingers that badly, baby?"

"Come on, sweetness, just one more orgasm, I know you can do it."

"God, you really love watching my fingers knuckle-deep in your pussy, hm?"

Hahahshsh can u tell 😅😅 I have a thing for guitarists 😅😅😅😅 I'm one myself but omfg they're so jdnsskdbdnsn

#ateez #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #hongjoong imagines #kim hongjoong imagine

265 notes · View notes

azsazz · 4 months

Text

Bloody Knuckles and the Songs of Death (Part 6)

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Reader is everything that Azriel is not. Opposite feelings but equal death in the end.

AKA: Half a rewrite of chapters 43-47 of ACOWAR where reader is now there as part of the Autumn Court, excited to meet Azriel. The other half are my own ideas.

Warnings: Major themes of death and torture, ACOWAR spoilers (previous parts), blood, gore, mentions of abuse, smut.

Word Count: 2,070

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5)

_________________________________________

His admission is searing against your lips. A promise, made by the Taker of Death himself, cold and honest and true.

A bargain.

By warm and cold death themselves.

The moan that slips from your throat is animalistic. You surge onto the tips of your toes, shoving yourself as close as you can to him, body to body, your fingers sliding into his hair in a desperate move.

Death meets again.

Azriel’s body is cold against your own, cold like the breeze sweeping across the very balcony in which you stand, glued to him like a craving finally fulfilled after so long. His fingers curl around your hips and then he’s stumbling back a step, two, drawing you towards the doors leading back into your rooms.

Something awakens inside of you when he grips the back of your gown and rips it wide open, your fingers scratching at his skin. You gasp against his lips, his tongue dipping into your mouth, tasting his blood on your teeth.

He’s drunk off of your taste already. If Azriel weren’t the embodiment of death itself he would be afraid. Afraid of the way that he’s relishing in you. The way that you breathe is like the last breath from a mutilated body, one he’s just gotten done prying open in every way possible, the final burst of heat withering from their soul. Your touch is as hot as blood pouring from a wound, and when you shove your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and fist his silken cock, he feels reincarnated.

And him, he feels colder than a heartless body but oh so right against your skin. The shreds of your nightgown fall from your arms but you can hardly force yourself away from his to let the fabric slip to the ground. When you do, his golden eyes roam your skin as he works the buttons on his own shirt, an icy shiver licking up your spine at the intensity—the familiarity—of them. It makes you feel alive, so cold in a way it’s as if you’re facing the very fires of autumn you know so dearly now.

Until his gaze halts on the handprint around your arm.

You flinch as Azriel’s gaze hardens, the lust draining from his eyes. You try to twist your arm behind your back but his shadows are racing outwards like a lance, cinching around your limbs and pulling them taut, your skin fully exposed to his lethal stare.

“Don’t,” you plead, and all of a sudden you’re no longer one of the most feared females in this court. You’re a female who has had her rights stripped, freedom forced from her for a taste of the outside world. You had been trapped so long in the cells of the Oaks that you hadn’t properly thought about what the High Lord of Autumn was asking of you at the time, what you would have to give up for yourself, when he said that he would release you. You had agreed, unaware of all of the plans he’d already set forth for you to finish.

“What. Happened.” His shadows lacing his deep growl leave no room for argument. He sounds as brash as death itself.

But his touch is soft. Those marred fingers, brushing across the ravaged skin of your arm. His promise raking over the foolish one you had made so long ago. Azriel’s fingers feel like a loving caress of death, one that makes your thighs quake. Death himself, before you in the very flesh, so gentle, unlike yourself.

His golden eyes pin you in place more so than the shadows wrapped tightly around your limbs. He’s awaiting your answer, patient, as death always is.

You swallow harshly, but don’t break his gaze. The thought of the mark on your arm fills you with fire; hot, uncontrollable flames that make you want to set blazes to the forests of autumn, burn the High Lord’s court to the ground.

But you can’t do that to Eris. Killing his father will put everyone in a safer position, but exterminating the court as a whole would not bode well for any of you. Especially not with war on the cusp of the continent.

You itch to have your taste so freely fed. Thousands of souls for you to take, blood to bathe in, screams to sing. It makes your teeth itch.

“I made a very bad bargain,” you admit, lowering your chin. You cannot look at Azriel, not like this. Not when he’s looking back at you like he very well might throttle every member with the Vanserra name in your honor. “With a very bad male.”

He knows. You’ve told him you belong to Beron but not how you belong to him. How you’d been brought from the Oaks to do his bidding. How you’ve been under his lock for centuries.

If your love for death was lesser, you’d hate yourself more.

It’s not right to feel the way you do. When Beron has forced you to kill innocents, it was not the extravagant warmth you crave flooding your skin. It was nothing of the sort. You are used to death’s cradle, warm and lush and tasty. None of those kills had been deserved. They were nothing more than cold, heartless slaughters forced by your hand by the High Lord of Autumn.

“I will kill him,” Azriel promises again, jaw set in a firm line. He continues brushing over the handprint singed deeply into your skin. His free hand gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

And then he’s pressing that promise to your lips, sealing his vow with a kiss of death.

“The kill is yours, shadowsinger,” you agree against his lips. You delve your tongue into his mouth, kissing him harshly. The thanks that’s stuck in your throat is given to him like this. Azriel gives you his word not with the promise of night-dark ink against your skin nor a burn into your flesh. He seals his promise with the taste of you on his tongue, his fingers at your nape, and will do it with his cock in your cunt.

Desperation flares like a beating heart, pumping full with blood. You’re ravenous for him, for his words, for his actions. For Death himself. He feels like the half of your soul you’ve been missing for centuries, like the other half of the death you’ve always known you belong to. The iciness of his body against yours is otherworldly, the chill from his bones mixing with the warmth of your own makes your head spin.

“When you were inside of me,” Azriel starts, and it’s gruff. His words heat your cheeks and you gasp as your nipples tighten, brushing against his shirt. He’s still fully clothed but you are already undone before him, ready to give yourself over to the death that makes you feel whole. You realize that he’s referring to the High Lord’s meeting when you’d slipped past his defenses and into his mind, halting him from pummeling Eris into the ground. “How did you do it?”

“Nothing can stop death,” you breathe, sliding his shirt from his chest. He’s magnificent, the hard muscles packing his body from centuries of training. He’s tan all the way down to the cutting lines where his trousers meet his hips, and your mouth waters a little when you think about his cock that is pressing fully against his fabric. Kissing your way across his collarbones and down his chest, you continue. “You will find, Death, that if you so choose to stop me, you can.”

“Don’t stop,” he growls, hissing when you lap across his nipple and roll it between your teeth. His fingers stroke icy lines down your skin until he’s cupping your cunt, fingers sliding between your seams to feel your wetness. “Gods, you’re so wet for me.”

“Have been since I first laid eyes on you,” you admit, distracted by undoing his pants. He’s strapped with weapons but there’s something inside of him that doesn’t care should you wrap your fist around one and plunge it straight into his gut. “I’ve been waiting for death to claim me for years. And here you are.”

Azriel watches as you sink to your knees, drawing his pants down with you. His cock springs up, hard and hot and ready. He can’t get the words out before you’re mouthing at the deep lines of his hips, following to where they’re pointing, licking at the base of his cock.

“Death,” he warns you, using the same nickname you’ve been using for him, but you’re not listening. The feeling of your warm lips against his shaft is intoxicating, and he fists the hair at the back of your neck as you suckle at his tip, flicking your tongue against his slit in a teasing manner. He wants to pick you up and fling you onto the bed, mount you like the raging beast inside of him wants. He’s going to claim you so thoroughly you won’t be able to part from him ever. He can feel the stirring in his chest, the feeling burrowed deep within his aching soul.

“Claim me,” you beg him, sucking down his length as far as it will go. Azriel chokes, hips bucking without his permission and you’re moaning around him, pressing closer, eagerly. He uses the hand on the back of your head to help you, guiding you so far down his cock that your nose meets his hips.

You’re dripping onto the floor beneath your feet. You’re already so full, the missing piece of you found. His length is smooth of your tongue, slick down your throat as you bob. The sounds of his cock down your throat are lewd, as are his reactions to your movements. You feel like you can’t breathe, your chest aching with lust. Your thighs are pressed so tightly your writhing does nothing to stimulate your clit, and when you reach your hands down to relieve yourself, Azriel pulls himself away.

“I’m going to touch you,” he grunts, lifting you off of your feet. His mouth crashes against yours in a heated kiss that’s all teeth and tongue. His hands pull you close to his body but you’re clinging to him just as tightly. He keeps you suspended right above his cock, the head of it brushing your entrance as he walks you both toward the bed.

You mewl, undulating your hips to try and force yourself down. Azriel isn’t having it, though. He tosses you onto the bed and doesn't let you catch your breath as he climbs up after you, a predatory look in his golden gaze as he nudges your legs wide with strong hands, devouring the sight of your glistening cunt.

“Fucking perfect,” he nearly groans, all but collapsing between your spread limbs. He’s a desperate man, no better than any other as he buries his head there without a second thought, cock aching dangerously at the surprised moan you release. It makes his shadows sing, and the way your hands find his hair immediately, pulling him into you as you grind just as urgently has him near bursting.

You taste better than anything he’s ever dared try. Better than the blood of his enemies, better than the souls he collects. Your taste will forever be ingrained in his memory, and he hopes, once he kills Beron for you, your taste will forever be on his tongue.

“Azriel,” your moan is throaty, a hardly there noise in your ears, drowned out by the sound of blood rushing through your veins. You know you’ve screamed it for all of the patrons of Thesean’s estate to hear, perhaps even his court. You’re lucky that Eris and his incorrigible family have left you here tonight. You’ve found yourself an assassin, a lover, and maybe even a mate. You cum with a noise that could awaken every body you’ve helped put in the ground. Shadows wreath your vision, vignetting it in darkness. Azriel’s hands dig into the meat of your thighs as you try and clench them because he is not done with you yet. Nor will he be when his cock has dipped into your slick, nor will he be when you’re spent, limp with pleasure against his chest. Nor will he be when he finally—finally—has you all to himself.

#azriel acotar #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #azriel #acowar #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel smut #azriel angst

219 notes · View notes

hllywdwhre · 4 months

Text

Bad Decisions

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

Summary: You meet up with your boyfriend and poke fun of media rumors

Warnings: Allusions to smut, but no actual smut. MDNI/18+

Word Count: 513

Notes: Based on the song ‘Bad Decisions’ by Ariana Grande

Let 'em keep, let 'em keep on talking

But it don't matter what they say

Cause you know when you hear me knocking

Gonna get that, ooh ooh

Familiar anxiety filled your brain, though you weren’t sure if anxiety was the right word anymore. Excitement fit better.

The long, dark coat hid what was hidden underneath; a lace, black bodysuit that was, honestly, a size too small. It being a size too small led to it hugging your ass and your boobs being squeezed just enough, though. One wrong move and you would be exposed, but it only added to the excitement.

He answered the door with a smirk on his face, already knowing who stood on the other side. He let you in silently and you followed his outstretched hand.

Smoothly, his hand grabbed the string of the coat and caused the delicate knot to come undone, opening the front of your trench coat to reveal just enough of what was underneath.

You heard his breath hitch in his throat and you couldn’t stop the smirk on your face.

You dropped the trench coat, looking up at him and chuckling at the look on his face.

“I’m assuming you like it… judging by the drool on your chin,” you said, knowing you would regret the words later tonight when he inevitably threw the words back in your face as he teased you until you were begging.

“Darling… fuck,” he said, his voice already dropping as he walked over to you.

One of his hands immediately went to your waist and one went to cup your face to pull you into a kiss.

You heard the shred of the lance mere minutes later,

“That was my favorite,” you grumbled against his lips as you tugged gently on his hair.

“I’ll buy you another. I’m supposed to be your sugar daddy, remember?” He replied sarcastically, his lips only moving to bite at your neck and leave a mark you knew would be a pain to hide later on.

You let out a mix of a chuckle and a moan at his words and actions. People had plenty to say about the two of you, especially considering the age gap, but it didn’t matter.

The way he made your heart flutter.

The way his skin felt against yours.

The way he seemed to be able to read your body like it was the simplest of books.

The way his body collided with yours, causing both of you to release near-pornographic moans.

The way only he could get you to show that submissive side of yourself that you kept locked away from anyone else.

Fuck what others thought.

The map his lips made along your skin caused your eyes to roll back in your head and the map your lips made along him erased any thoughts of doubt.

The moment your knock sounded on the door, any anxieties or doubts erased from your minds.

Your minds, souls, and bodies were meant to be pushed against each other’s and melded together in ways that would make the devil blush.

“You’re mine and I’m yours,” he said firmly, picking you up and holding your body to his as he made his way back to the bedroom.

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian x y/n #Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

190 notes · View notes

unboundprompts · 10 months

Text

Pirate Prompts Inspired by Songs

-> writing prompts from the lyrics of songs that give off pirate vibes. feel free to edit as you see fit.

"You ain't welcome 'round here anymore. You might as well go." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Kick him in the head and throw him over." - Drunken Sailor by aeseaes

"Tear this place apart and leave not but a single shred. Tonight we'll be much richer men, tonight they'll all be dead!" - Side Quest by The dread Crew of Oddwood

"So, you want to be immortal with a loaded gun?" - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"He wiped the blood from his face as he slowly came to his knees. He said, 'I'll be back when you least expect it. And hell's coming with me."' - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"I sold my soul to the calling." - Fire by Barns Courtney

"Abandon everything you know, sail with us and we'll show you what it means to be alive" - Abandon Ship by fin

"No second life, no second try." - Side by Side by Storm Seeker

"You line your pockets full of money that you steal from the poor." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Dance my dear like the raging seas. Sway my ship until the sun rises. Spin like the wind like there was no tomorrow and the end was near." - Into The Night by Firkin

"Whisper your siren's song to every girl who comes along." - Vixen by Destroy Boys

"So much I have lost and so much I resent." - Only Us by Miracle Of Sound

"They didn't know him by his face, but by the gun around his waist." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"Pain is what you desire." - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"We've drunk a couple bottles and set our grief aside." - As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese

"Sold my soul to the barrel and the devil set me free." - Into The Night by Firkin

"I am the devil that you forgot." - Hell's Comin' with Me by Poor Man's Poison

"This is our ship, and we're your crew." - Abandon Ship by fin

"Let the sin we swim in drown us." - Only Us by Miracle Of Sound

"You sail among liars." - Start a War by Klergy, Valerie Broussard

"I'm dying to feel again, anything at all. But I feel nothing." - Gold by Imagine Dragons

"I know you're out there in the shadows." - Dear Fellow Traveller by Sea Wolf

"A pirate's life is hard to live, but the treasure will help, no doubt." - Side by Side by Storm Seeker

"Glory and gore go hand in hand." - Glory And Gore by Lorde

"We've got nothing left to lose." - The Captain's Dead by Paddy And The Rats

"Don't ask for me to lie then beg for forgiveness for making you cry." - Human by Rag'nBone Man

"If they think they're better still, I'll bring them to their knees." - Sticks and Stones by Ye Banished Privateers

"We lost a good ship to the depths." - The Voyage of the James Caird by Graeme James

"The rain and sea and storm winds crashed against our ship with wrath." - The Flying Dutchman by The Jolly Rogers

#prompts inspired by lyrics #writing prompts #dialogue prompt #prompt list #story prompt #rp prompts #fic prompt #story prompts #dialogue ideas #rp meme #writing dialogue #pirates

308 notes · View notes

superblysubpar · 3 months

Text

We'll Call It Love masterlist | It Had To Be You masterlist

the song: Suddenly I See by KT Tunstall // It Had To Be You playlist

warnings: this story is a part of the series We’ll Call It Love, and much of it would be spoiled if you read this first. It’s linked above, and I hope you love it! | series warnings pertain | mentions of drugs | "illusions" to smut

3k words

Steve always thought he’d meet the love of his life, his soul mate, at a bar.

Which sounds kind of lame now maybe? It’s just that the movies make it feel like this magical moment - you know, the couple sees each other, the music swells, the lights change - it’s undeniable.

But that’s not happening for Steve Harrington it seems, definitely not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

So here he is, just breaking up with another girl in another random Chicago bar.

His thumb pulls at the damp paper label, his brows furrowed over hazel eyes girls tend to like to look into deeply from time to time - or so he’s been told.

“It’s just not working.”

The words taste more bitter than the beer on his tongue because for Steve, that’s quite the opposite of how he feels a relationship should be described. Your relationship shouldn’t feel like a job. It should be easy. It should feel right. It should just work for lack of a better term.

When there’s no response from the other side of the table he finally glances up from the shredded label to find her typing on her phone, reaching for her wine glass and nodding.

“Brenda?”

The blonde finally lifts her eyes from the device, smiling under vacant eyes.

“Sorry, did you say something?”

Steve sighs deeply. He rubs at his temple as he nods.

“Yeah, yeah I did. I don’t…I don’t think we should…do this anymore?”

Silence.

She’s typing on her phone again.

“Brenda?” He blinks at her incredulously before leaning across the table, closer, as he lowers his voice, “Brenda, I’m breaking up with you.”

She snaps her gum, slides her phone into her purse and starts to slide out of the booth.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time. Listen, I didn’t even know we were dating? We haven’t even slept together and I didn’t think we were, like, an inclusive thing, you know?”

“You mean exclusive?”

She’s already walking out the door. As Steve watches her go with a disbelieving stare, he sees one of the TVs suspended over the bar has the Cubs game on now.

Well at least tonight isn’t a total bust.

“Hey man, ‘nother beer?” The bartender who brought him his first one asks from where he’s collecting empty dishes at a nearby table.

“Um,” Steve runs a hand through his hair, squinting at the tabletop before he sighs. “Sure, thanks.”

The bartender leaves and Steve rests his chin on his fist, watching the game but not really seeing it.

He’s not really sure what he’s doing anymore. Is it all just normal? To be this hopeless, to be this unhappy with life, to be this lonely. There has to be someone out there for him right?

His phone buzzes loudly on the table, stealing him from his spiral only for the dread he was barely allowing himself to dip into, swallow him whole and drown him.

The contact ‘Dad’ displays with no photo for what feels like forever until it finally stops and the screen goes dark.

Steve is still staring down at it when a large basket of breadsticks slides under his nose and a cold beer right behind it.

He glances up and the bartender is taking his empty bottle, smiling in a sort of laid back way that makes Steve envious of his clearly relaxed state and demeanor.

“On the house. You look pretty down about that blonde.”

“Oh,” Steve sits up, clearing his throat. He feels the warmth under his cheeks as he shakes his head, “No, um, she’s…yeah, I’m not missing her. Just lost in thought I guess. Thank you…” Steve trails off, looking for a name tag.

“Argyle, man,” the bartender slaps his hand out and grabs Steve’s.

Steve points to the ceiling, smiling. “Like the name of the bar?”

“One and the same my dude. Let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Steve keeps his eyes on the game until he can’t resist the scent of butter and cheese and he grabs one of the breadsticks. He practically moans when he takes the first bite, and his eyes flutter open when he hears a laugh float across the quiet room.

He swallows around the way too hot to have taken that big of a bite of bread as he sees you. You’re the only girl at the bar, head thrown back in a laugh he swears sounds like a favorite song as Argyle pours more red wine in your glass. There’s pizza in your hand and you’re gesturing to the baseball game.

He might already be in love with you.

And that’s before he watches you devour more than one piece of the pizza you’re eating alone and watching the baseball game like you actually care about it.

Steve clicks his phone unlocked, ignoring the text from his father, and types one to Robin instead.

Steve: Do you believe in soul mates?

It takes less than a minute for her to respond.

Robin: Steve, I’m sorry, but I cannot do this. Brenda is NOT your soul mate Steve: we just broke up Robin: oh thank god Robin: I mean, I am so sorry, what can I do? Ice cream? Steve: no, listen… Steve: there’s this girl here Robin: no Steve: I haven’t even told you the best part Robin: let me guess, you think you love her already? Steve: if you’re gonna be a brat about it, I will not tell you that she’s watching the Cubs game right now Robin: wow? Steve: Robs, she’s ACTUALLY watching it Robin: Yeah, and? Do you even know her name yet, Dingus? Have you spoken to her? Dude, I love you, but you can’t keep doing this Steve: what’s a good pick up line?

Steve takes a swig of his beer and chokes around it when Robin responds.

Robin: I might not be a pro player, but when it comes to you, I won't stop until I’ve reached all the bases Steve: absolutely not Robin: I think I glove you Robin: my dugout, or yours? Robin: I’m an umpire. Can I have your number so I can make the call? Steve: I hate you Robin: why don’t you just go with “Hi.” idiot Robin: also, why are there SO many baseball pick up lines on google? And what do they mean? Wtf is a pinch hitter?

Steve rolls his eyes at his screen, locking it closed as he slides out of the booth. He approaches the bar slowly, deciding that Robin is right, he should take it slow, he always does this.

And maybe he’ll go with the umpire line.

But when he’s right behind your shoulder, so close he can smell your perfume that makes him want to fall inside the bottle, he sees your pizza.

And it has fucking olives on it.

“Shit.”

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he clearly did, and when you turn to face him, he sort of forgets how to breathe.

You’re clearly taking him in just like he is you, and when he sees your mouth drop open a little as your eyes meet each other, he feels like someone is playing a prank on him.

Because the bar lights dim and the lyrics of As Time Goes By plays loudly.

And Steve knows, logically, that this is all because it’s the time of night where bars dim their lights and that the song is from the other TV playing Casablanca. He knows this.

And yet…

“Hey, sorry I’m late.”

Steve kisses your temple as he leans around you and grabs a breadstick on the bar despite your protest. He groans around the bread as you turn to smile at him.

“I swear, Argyle puts drugs in these.”

He sighs, pushing more into his mouth as he blinks at you, nodding his agreement. Steve’s eyes roam over the little black dress you have on, stopping appreciatively on the lace neckline that dips nicely and not so innocently. His fist comes up over his mouth, clearing his throat around the bite he shoves into his cheek so he can talk.

“You look nice.”

“What, this old thing?” You spin on the stool, shrugging your shoulders with a smile.

“Did you have something going on at work today?” He asks, brows furrowing and at first you think he’s joking, but then he cocks his head, ripping at more of the breadstick.

“Um, no, I-”

“Hey,” Steve waves for Argyle’s attention before he turns to you, apologetic, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, do you care if we get the pizza to go? I’m beat from today, and I just need to get into something that isn’t this tie and eat that pizza and pass out.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You smile, sure it’s not quite meeting your eyes, but Steve doesn’t notice because he’s already relaying the message to Argyle who looks at you curiously, then Steve, then you again before nodding.

“Sure, man, I’ll box it up right now, it just got out of the oven.”

He walks away and Steve looks at you curiously, “That was weird, right?”

Except it wasn’t, because Argyle and you must see all the couples literally making out over their pizza, or snuggled up on the same side of booths and pressing their noses into cheeks and whispering sweet nothings into ears. Argyle and you must know that today is Valentine’s Day and Steve…doesn’t?

You quickly hop off the stool, grab your thick winter coat and shrug it on, pretending not to notice, “No? It’s busy, maybe he’s just overwhelmed.”

“Yeah, maybe…” Steve trails off, looking around until he lands back on you buttoning your coat, then down at your feet when he smiles. “Hey, you’re wearing the heels I bought you.”

A hum leaves your pursed lips as you roll your eyes. “Well, they’re really nice and they’re not doing anyone any good hanging out in my closet collecting dust on their red soles.”

Steve leans in and kisses you, quickly and subtly before he whispers, “It’s okay to admit you like the fancy things I buy you…speaking of…” He grabs his wallet from his back pocket.

He hands you his debit card, before he nods outside, “I’m gonna go run and pull the car up so you don’t have to walk in those all the way to where I finally found parking.”

“Steve, I can-” He’s already waving it off and kissing your cheek, disappearing out the door he barely just walked through.

You slump against the bar and pull out your phone, looking around at the packed place with a sour feeling in your stomach.

Normally, you hate this day. It’s overpriced consumerism at its finest. It's a sickening zoo of PDA everywhere you look, and places like here that normally are your peaceful, quiet spots, are packed.

But you’d be lying if you didn’t say you were sort of looking forward to the day this year. Because, in all honesty, you’ve never really had someone you’ve wanted to celebrate with or someone who cared to do so until now.

Until Steve.

Which is what leads you to pull out your phone, open a text to Robin, decide absolutely not because she’d just text him and then he’d feel awful and instead you call Eddie who answers on the first ring.

“What.”

You go to bite at your lower lip at the sound of his curt greeting and think better of it, what with the lipstick you put on for tonight and all.

“Are you busy?”

Eddie sighs, dramatically, and you hear the distinct sound of a can crushing. “Yeah, I’m fucking the love of my life after we just had a candle lit dinner for two.”

As you look at the window, waiting to see Steve’s car, your eyes roll. Argyle hands you the pizza box with a smile and your voice lowers.

“Steve’s a…has he…does he like Valentine’s Day?”

Eddie snorts as he slurps a sip of a fresh beer into the receiver, “What kind of question is that. Of course Steve likes Valentine’s Day. It’s his shit. One year he took a girl out to like this whole big, fancy dinner and ice skating. Presents, flowers, the whole thing. He even gets Robin flowers and a card every year. He’s always been like that. Got everyone in middle school like the really nice candy and cards. Superheroes and name brand shit.”

“Oh.”

There’s silence on the other end for what feels like forever and you hear his sharp inhale as the car pulls up.

“I gotta go,” you start to hang up but then think better of it and hiss into the phone, “Don’t say anything to him or Robin or Nancy or I will kill you.”

“But-” You click off the phone before he can say another word and head out the door where Steve is already jogging around the front of his car and opening your door for you.

The glaring reality of your situation hits you as Steve closes the door.

Steve didn’t forget Valentine’s Day, he just doesn’t want to celebrate it with you.

You try to shake off the mood, to smile and nod as he talks the whole way to his apartment about the new job, because you are really proud of him and you love hearing how excited he is for this new work he’s doing. And really, isn’t being alone with him, eating pizza, in comfy clothes, a perfect night with him because anything you do with him is perfect?

It’s just hard to shake the fact that it’s a known fact he’s gone above and beyond for everyone else on this holiday, but not for you.

Steve grows quiet as you walk inside the apartment building, thumb swiping over your knuckles back and forth gently until you untangle your fingers so he can unlock his door.

The heels are kicked off and your coat hung as Steve slides the pizza onto the island, turning towards his bar. “I got that wine you really liked, do you want a glass of that with it, or…” he trails off waiting for you to respond.

You nod and head towards his room, but his arm snakes around your waist, tugging you to a stop so you can see his eyes when he ducks his head to catch your gaze. Steve speaks softly, worried, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you smile and he frowns and you kiss the corner of his lips, “Sorry, I just had a long day too, I guess. Lady things. Heels hurting, whatever-”

“The heels hurt?” He looks genuinely concerned, and goes to reach for his phone, “I’ll get you a different size, they shouldn’t hurt-”

“No, no, no, I meant like…” you kiss him again, feeling something in your chest ache.

Steve is wonderful, wanting to buy you new shoes because your feet hurt and here you are sulking because what? He didn’t get you overpriced bad chocolates?

He kisses you back, hand cupping your jaw until you’re sighing and pulling away.

“The shoes don’t hurt my feet. I don’t know why I said that. They’re perfect and the wine sounds great. I’m gonna change quick, okay?”

He nods, but he’s still frowning as you turn into his bedroom. You literally shake out your arms as you enter his closet, like you’re trying to rid your body of the bratty feeling as you roll your head from side to side, the tense feeling in your neck making you feel nauseous and guilty.

You pad over to the tall dresser, pulling at the top drawer that’s slowly becoming yours as your phone rings, loudly, in the other room.

“Steve, can you grab that? It’s in my coat pocket. It’s probably just Eddie, I hung up on him earlier…” you trail off as you remember what else is in the coat pocket and you race back out to the kitchen, sweats and one of Steve’s shirts in your hands.

Your tights covered feet skid to a stop in his kitchen at the sight of what Steve holds in his hand.

His tie is gone, white dress shirt partially unbuttoned to reveal the white tank top underneath with a small glimpse of his chest hair peeking out the top of it. His hair is sticking every which way, like he ran both hands through it several times in less than the minute you’ve been a part.

And in his fingers dangles a gold chain, his gold chain, with a little ‘S’ hanging from it.

“Steve, I-”

He looks up at you and his cheeks are flushed pink and his eyes look a little glassy and he clears his throat as he holds it up higher. The ‘S’ spins with the movement, catching the light and sparkling as his voice breaks a little when he asks, “What’s this?”

Your eyes close as you groan and drop the items. The heels of your palms into your eyes as you shake your head. The words tumble out of you, unable to be contained any longer.

“It’s stupid. I’m sorry. I just…I thought…I figured you’re a guy who, like, would eat this holiday shit up, and I don’t know, your chain just…I don’t know. I stole it and I brought it to a jeweler and got the ‘S’ for it and I know it’s technically a gift for me, but I just thought you’d like it if I wore it but it’s fine, I can return it or we can just…I don’t know, I-”

“Hey,” he interrupts softly, now standing just in front of you. He tugs on your wrist, pulling your hand from your face before his fingers tuck under your jaw so you have to look at him. “You got me this for Valentine’s Day?”

The words of the holiday must make your face aching to be nonchalant twitch or shift or something because Steve leans down and presses his forehead against yours.

“I didn’t forget. I just assumed you were very much not the kind of girl who would eat this holiday shit up,” he laughs at the parrot of your words as your lips twitch. “I thought you’d hate the fancy dinners and the flowers and chocolate, and just want today to be…normal?”

Your shoulders shrug as you step closer, letting your hands tug at his shirt collar. “I do…normally.”

Steve’s nose traces up yours and back down as he hums, lips ghosting over yours as he speaks, “Yeah? What changed?”

“Are you fishing for a compliment Harrington?” You whisper, heart stuttering in your chest as his lips catch your bottom one and linger, his breath exhaling against your skin warm as he laughs.

“I wouldn’t complain if I got one,” his lips skim up your jaw, kissing just below your ear before he asks, “Can I put it on you?”

Something inside of your stomach flutters as you nod and spin for him. Steve’s nose follows your ear, down your neck as his hands reach around with the necklace. The cold metal hits your skin, your toes curl and legs press together as his fingertips skate across your collarbones with the ends of the chain, until they’re clasping it closed.

You spin slowly, bodies refusing to stop touching each other as Steve swallows loudly and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. His eyes remain on the necklace as you tilt your head back to look up at him.

Steve’s hand reaches up, fingertips gently brushing down the chain until they’re on the ‘S’ where he pauses, his adams apple bobbing as the apartment grows warmer from the heat of his stare.

He leans forward, and before you can even naturally follow, he tugs, lightly, on the ‘S’, making your brain buzz and something spark up your spine as the distance between you closes.

Steve makes a sort of choked noise from the back of his throat, pupils blown wide when he finally looks into your eyes.

Your lips hover over his mouth, whispering around their smirk, “Pizza’s getting cold.”

Steve groans as you slip out of his arms, spinning towards the food only to be caught around the waist by his arms. He practically drags you to his bedroom, growling, “Fuck the pizza,” around your laughter.

You’re not sure what you were hoping for, really, with the gift, for your first Valentine’s day together.

But watching Steve Harrington’s eyes practically roll back in his head with you grinding on top of him, his hands pressed to the mattress with fingers entangled in yours, as the chain and little gold ‘S’ hits his chin is pretty fucking great.

Oh, and him coming with no warning when you kiss the pair of freckles on his neck and whisper, “Happy Valentine’s Day baby” was pretty cool too.

#we'll call it love #it had to be you #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #modern!steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington series

102 notes · View notes