p.s. I’ve been working on this damn list of characters for like 2 hours now (becasue I’m just in so many fandoms). And then Tumblr crashed and I lost everything.
Requests are open, but I do have some rules.
If I do accept your request do not expect it the next day, or even the same week. And if I do accept your request, do not keep bothering me (repeatedly) about the request. It will be published, but you must be patient. I am a person, I do have a social life as a young adult. I am also chronically sick and I have exams as well. This is not my first priority, it’s only for fun.
I will write for almost every kink, except: Piss, Spit, breast milk (any lactation), feet stuff (sucking, tickling, kissing ect.)
I’d prefer if you were to use the ask button on my page, if you want to be anonomys, use the annonmys button. My messages are not for requests, but if I do have a question, I’ll likely message you.
Masterlist
Characters I write for:
Mcu:
Thor Odinson
Spider-man (Peter Parker (all actors))
Wanda Maximoff
Steve Rogers
Moon Knight (All personalities)
Deadpool
Steve Rogers
King T’Challa
Shuri
Matt Murdock
Vision
Valkyrie
Agatha Harkness
Natasha Romanoff
Pietro Maximoff
Venom (Eddie Brock)
Yelena Balova
Dceu
Batman (Ben Alfick, Christian Bale)
The Joker (Jared Leto, Heath Ledger)
Harley Quinn
Poison Ivy
Wonder Woman
Aquaman
The Flash (Grant Gustin)
Vibe
Harrison Well
Supergirl (Melissa Beniost)
Mon-El
Braniac 5
Star-Wars
Dath Vader
Princess Leia
Obi-Wan Kenobi
Padme Amidala
Bo-Katan
Poe Dameron
Din Djarin
Arcane
Jinx
Vi
Vander
Silco
Jayce
Caitlyn
Henry Cavill
August Walker
Walter Marshell
Captain Syverson
Napoleon Solo
Sherlock Holmes
Geralt of Rivia
Henry Cavill
The Sandman
Dream of the Endless
Death of the Endless
Desire of the Endless
Lucifer
Corinthian
Constantine
Hob Gadling
Calliope
The Witcher
Geralt of Rivia
Yennefer
Jaskier
Cahir
Triss Merigold
The Sound of Music
Georg Von Trapp
Maria Von Trapp
Phantom of the Opera
Erik Destler (2004 Movie)
Christene Daae
Megan Giry
God of War
Kratos
Freya
Heimdall
Thor
Vikings: Valhalla
King Kanute
Harald Sigurson
Leif Erikson
Freydis Eriksdottor
Formula 1
Lewis Hamilton
Carlos Sainz
Daniel Riccardo
Pierre Gasly
Lando Norris
Toto Wolff
Pedro Pascal
Pedro Pascal
Oberyn Martell
Joel Miller
Din Djarin
Agent Whiskey
Javier Pena
WWE
Rhea Riple
Dominik Mysterio
Damian Priest
Finn Baylor
Basically any version of Elvis Presley.
Misc. Characters
Steve Abnesti
Khal Drog
Jack Sparrow
Dani Ardor (Midsommar)
Pelle (Midsommar)
Mads Mikkelson
If any more characters or fandoms get requested, I’ll add them
Summary: Henry comes home in the middle of the night after a long flight home from his press tour, desperate for his girl.
Pairing: Henry Cavill x reader
Warnings: P in V, leather collar, use of "daddy", derogatory names, humiliation, degradation kink, praise kink, smut, first-person narrator
Word count: 1.6k+, unedited
Dividers by: @sister-lucifer @cxrrodedcoffin
It's late, far too late and I'm fast asleep. The bed is empty, the sheets are cold. Much colder than they usually are. And instead of my usual lull of soft breathing, it's quiet. Far too quiet. My dreams are filled with wet fantasies unspeakable except to only one...
The door creaks open. He's home... I hear the shift as he slides his shoes off, the only thing he bothers to take off in time. A hand snakes underneath the bed sheets and pushes them aside enough to see my naked body. Hands, larger than my whole body, wrap around my waist. A heavy, comforting weight settles against my back. That family feeling of hard need presses in the curve of my back and ass.
The sharply ironed shirt is sure to leave an imprint on my skin. I bite back a hiss, feeling the cold metal from his tie clip press into my shoulder. Not to mention his belt buckle causing my whole body to clench around nothing.
His scruff tickles the smooth expanse of my collarbone as he places his usual soft kisses... "Fuck, princess... I've missed you so..." His hips buck forward as his hands grip my waist tighter. My body moves within seconds, instinct, second nature at this point. Pulling my legs forward and pressing my ass against his bulge.
"Is my baby awake? Ready for me?" His one hand moves, sweeping my hair away from my shoulder. His lips instantly attach to the sensitive skin. Sure to leave a mark. But that's how I like it. Show everyone who I belong to. As if it isn't obvious by the leather around my neck and the "H" dangling from it.
That same hand moves down, trailing my soft skin, causing my hairs to stand up from the slight tickle. Experienced hands find the wet heat between my legs. A sudden whimper falls from my lips when his fingers apply pressure in small circles. "I know, babygirl, I know. You want daddy inside you, don't you?" He whispers against my ear.
Everything is throbbing and I'm so needy and so ready. But 3 weeks has been far too long and I know that stretch is going to hurt so good. His hands release my body, instantly I curve my back more and let my ass up. Allowing him the beauty sight of my wet and needy cunt. Throbbing, practically begging for that perfect cock.
"Just look at that...so needy for me, aren't you doll face?" His thumb pressed again. My body jolts and pushes against him. He coos and I can feel my face light up red. How easily he has me in such shambles. And with one finger, long thick finger, he has me groaning. My teeth sink into the pillow, trying not to moan from something so... Easy.
I'm like putty in his hands within a few pumps, and everything throbs when he slides his finger back out. I whimper, and press back against him, begging with my body for more. "I know what you want, baby..." He comforts, then teases with just the tip. So warm already. "Is that what you want princess?"
Instead of answering with my words, I let my body do the speaking. Leaning back as I feel that delightful stretch. A groan leaving my throat as he goes all the way. Warmth spreading throughout causes my eyes to roll back. A euphoric smile on my face when I feel him hit that spot that almost makes me want to cry with pure joy.
"Mmhmm, fuck, princess, I've missed you. And this pussy...my cunt. Understand?" I can't respond but his possessive nature makes me want to finish on the spot. Even more so when it pisses him off, his hand grabbing my hair and pulling my head up. Bending over and forcing my lips next to his ear. "Say it." He hits that sweet spot that causes all sorts of noises to sputter out.
I don't know how I said it but the words: "Yours- Yours-" make it through. With much struggle since even just speaking seems impossible when he's scrambled my brain. "That's right...mine..." How he's able to form such coherent thoughts makes me feel almost insecure. Am I enjoying this too much? Is he not enjoying it as much as I am? If he's able to-
"On your back, fuck- I can't hold with you like this-" I almost let out a cry when that deliciously full feeling empties out. I pant, what did he say? "Sweet girl, I'm not fucking asking again." Now I know what I said. With every ounce of energy, that I find purely from the will to obey, I roll over.
"You're so pretty babygirl... I've missed you so much..." His soft pillow lips find mine and his tongue is in my mouth. Tongues interlocking, feeling the rough of taste buds and then the smooth area underneath. A thousand words and promises in that kiss. The same kiss that swallows my groans when he slides inside me again.
His tie dangles in my face when he comes up for air. I can't help myself when I grab him right there and pull him closer. I need him, right here. On top of me, all of him. I need to feel the warmth of his belly press against the fat of my cunt. "Off, off, please." I beg, trying to get my brain to focus enough to undo these damn buttons. But in frustration, I give up and instead just slides my hands underneath.
My nails dig into his back, marking my territory. Showing him just how wild he makes me. How I loose control and need to be closer to him. Inside his skin, his lungs, his rib cage and force myself into that spot in his heart that I know is reserved for me and me alone.
He chuckled at my desperation. Usually it would make me beet red with shame at how I loose myself, but right now I can't care. All thoughts of shame are thrown out the window when I see his beautiful body. That delicious weight that presses against me. It makes my eyes roll back as my lungs are compressed. So easily he could kill me, but he chooses to fuck me instead. Not even fuck, breed.
"I want to see you swell with my seed." One hand falls on the slender v-curve of my waist, the point right before the fat of my cunt meets the sleek part of my stomach. Right there where he'll pour his cum deep inside me. Where he'll put a baby inside me, his hand right where the baby would grow. "Can you do that for me, princess?" I clench around him with each nickname that he uses.
"Yes! Yes, yes, yes please, please," I mumble, ramble really. Hips bucking forward in a desperate attempt to force him deeper inside me. "Good...such a good girl..." Swiftly, and suddenly he grabs my thighs and presses them against my chest. The angle makes it easy for him to push all of himself inside me. I can see the tip press against the inside of my stomach, it makes me groan with mind-overwhelming pleasure.
Every thought I've ever had shakes out of my brain with the rapid pace that he pumps in and out of me. I can feel myself just for a moment cringe when a euphoric smile overcomes me and my eyes roll back. So cliché, like every other porno. But it's a reason because fucking hell it's so good. And the body will react however it wishes.
He drapes my thighs over his shoulders, not stopping the onslaught of pleasure even for a second. In fact, he increases it. His point and middle finger hook under the leather around my neck and yank me forward. His lips crashing into mine. Forcing even more of himself inside me with his tongue. Only to suddenly break his mouth free to mumble. "Gonna fill you with cum. Hmm~ my little cum bucket? I'm gonna make you a mommy now, mkay~?"
The thought of even conjuring anything but moans and whimpers breaks my brain. And instead I reply with the feverish shake of my head. "Good, so good, almost baby, almost~" His lips crash against mine, teeth clashing but it makes it just that much more invigorating.
The incessant pleasure and pulse, hitting that exact perfect spot, mixed with the encouragement from his delightfully masculine nature causes my whole body to go stiff. A build and build until a suddenly push as I gush across him. The push pulls into a pull, wrapping around him and pulling him even deeper.
In the instant I can feel the warmth spread throughout my body and soak my insides. The pulse of me finishing sending him too over the edge. His lips let go of mine, his head falls into the crook of my neck. His panting tickles my neck in a way that makes me so proud. And when he lets down onto the mattress, the shake and shiver.
My whole body feels exhausted and on fire from the overly sensitive nerves all at the same time. My head is a buzz with an incredible floating feeling that makes me smile so wide that it seems almost cheesy in my mind. I'm so in love…
I can't help the whimper that spills out, similar the cum pouring out of me when he slides himself back out. His hand scooping the sticky mess and massaging it into my steadily rising and falling stomach. "You're so pretty, babygirl... daddy's pretty little princess, aren't you?" He leans down, kissing my forehead.
So careful with me after. The best of both worlds. Complete and utter release of control, of pleasure, and of everything in between. And in that moment no drug on earth can even compare…
I apologies for my absence...it will happen again. Here's an Elvis fanfic... it's probably not at all what you guys want but it is the only thing I've written in the last 5 months.
Summary: A frustrated Alpha Elvis needs his omega desperately and she is eager to please.
Pairing: Alpha! Big Daddy Elvis x Omega!Reader
Warnings: Omegaverse, humiliation, talk of BJ's but no smut.
Word Count: 1,5k+ unedited
Dividers by:@mmadeinheavenn and @crylynnluv
Everyone is on edge. The room has a thick cloud of annoyance that is oozing off one person. With a mixture of anxiety pouring in, since everyone is cowering from the scowling alpha. “Fucking hell, why can’t anyone get it right today?” No one answers him as he looks are accusatory at the crew.
No one is going to dare challenge him. Such a presence doesn’t really exist elsewhere. There hasn’t been an alpha with such a strong scent, such a strong aura, so much charisma. So when he’s pissed, everyone can smell it in the air and no one is going to even try to soothe him. Except of course one person.
“Where is she?” Elvis turns to his bodyguards. His nostrils flared and his jaw locked. His shoulder’s tense when the response he gets is far from what he wants. “We don’t know.” Elvis rakes his hands through his thick black hair. “Red...” Before Elvis can even finish his sentence the man has already run off in search of the alpha’s omega.
His head is pounding with a massive headache. His whole body is oozing with frustration. Their sleeping schedules are entirely different. He is able to stay up late, and sleep hours on end until he is needed. While she does her very best to stay up along with him, he lets her sleep late. But now he’s regretting it. His whole body is itching for her, he hasn’t been able to taste her sweetness in what feels like forever, even if it has been just a few hours.
Elvis can smell her before he sees her and instantly feel the tension leave his shoulders. “There she is...there’s my girl...” he mutters, staying in his spot with a hand on his hip. The other reaching out to beckon her closer. And when his sweet girl is standing in front of him, his large hand cups her round cheeks.
Her hair is messy, her eyes are puffy, she has her teddy in her arms, clutching it close. Her night dress is all twisted, hugging her curves. Clearly Red had just dragged her out of bed. “I’m sorry I woke you, my sweet girl, I’m sorry.” His large hands tuck some of her locks behind her ear, trying to wake her up just a little bit more.
Blue eyes that shine so gorgeously down at her, worked hands that hold her with such a gentle touch. Black hair that beautifully falls on his forehead, just barely over his eyes. That lemony smell mixed with the polish from his shoes and his hair, it’s amazingly delightful. His scent on top of it too slowly begins to fade from anger to soft contentment.
“On your knees, baby.” It’s almost instantly when her knees buckle and make contact with the floor. When she knows just how happy she can make his with this simple action. “There you go, sweet girl. I know that’s where you want to be, honey, I know.” He coos when she presses her face into his crotch. Her soft cheek rubbing up and down against the inside of his thighs, right against his scent glands. Her teddy still clutched to her chest.
She seems completely and utterly content. Like where she is, is heaven on earth. As if the other people standing there, watching them, just completely don’t exist. “Such an obedient omega. My perfect girl. I’ve missed you so much, baby.” Elvis’s thumb makes it way from her chin to her lips. The thick finger prying her mouth open. Her tongue almost instantly swirling around the tip of his finger. Letting Elvis’ imagination swirl around.
He wants to tease her. To see her squirm for him. See how eager she is to please him, even in front of all these people. His voice is rough and smooth at the same time. That rich southern accent that he has, the beautiful voice he’s been gifted, now tainted with the rough accusation he spits out. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Big eyes look up at him, wide and now worried, smelling the waves of irritation coming from him all over. “I had- I was-” then his hand is cupping her chin. Squeezing her cheeks together, stopping her from being able to talk. “Isn’t my rule that you need permission to leave my side?” With what mobility she has, the girl nods. His tongue grazes over his sharp canines.
He hums, “So tell me why my babygirl wasn’t by my side when I needed her?” Again she isn’t able to speak. Just struggling to open her mouth against his strong hands. He lets out a small chuckle. “How are we going to fix this, omega?” Instead of answering, his omega just opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue. This does make the King of Rock grin.
“Fuck, just look at you, such a good little omega, aren’t you?” His shoulders roll back as he looks up and around at the band carefully watching them. “Look at that, everyone. Are any of your omegas this well trained?” They know not answering would be the wrong move and also not answering correctly could send the powerful alpha into an angry spiral. So they all just sort of shake their heads no.
As much as he wants to use that sweet mouth of hers right here, right now, he’d rather not any of these other alphas see what is his. “No...no that’s alright baby... I’m just teasin’ yah. I know you were sleeping. No need to punish such a good little girl.” Her cheeks go bright red as she looks away from the band watching her.
“No, no, I just want my sweet omega close. Here, babgygirl...” he takes her by the shoulders, helping her up. “That’s right,” he guides her to sit on the chair he was sitting on earlier. “But Alpha-” he silences her protest with a deep kiss. His tongue pressing against hers, rough and smooth at the same time.
“No buts, babydoll. Be a good girl and stay right there. I need my girl here to be able to focus.” He kisses her forehead and turns back to his band. “Right, where were we?”
Hips that go from left to right. A waist so small but a belly thick. Showing the ages of him, everything that he’s been through. But the comfortable life that he’s built for himself. It shows how strong he is, how manly he is. How much he can eat what his omega makes him without a single complaint. She loves spending her night sleeping on his tummy, letting her canines sink in until it leaves an imprint.
That thick black hair of his that tussles when he’s thoroughly enjoying himself. Whether that is dancing on the stage or in bed when he’s ravaging her. It falls over his eyes, covering his forehead. And his side burns makes it look as if he’s turning into a wolf. Powerful and strong. There is something so manly of a hairy man.
Speaking of hairy, the way that his front few buttons hang open to show his trail of chest hair following down to his waist. As his omega you know that line goes down all the way. Into a thick bush that tickles your nose when your mouth is wrapped around him. That makes his scent linger and overwhelm you.
Or maybe it’s the sweat that drips down his forehead. The same sweat that soaks your chest and neck when he’s so deep inside you that you can feel your brains being scrambled. His sweat drip drips from his cheeks down to his chest, lower and lower. The smell makes your whole body light up, hot to the touch.
“Stop squirming.” His voice rings through her ears, when did he come up right behind her? “I wasn’t-” His hands are on her, on the bare spot under her neck that her nighty doesn’t cover. “Yes you were, I can smell your slick from over there.” His knuckles ever so carefully graze from her collarbone down to her fingertips. “I bet they can too...”
Her cheeks go bright red at just the thought. “What’s got you so worked up, baby?” Then his nose is pressed against the crook of her neck, right where those very sensitive scent glands are. The spot that makes every hair in her body stand upright. She can’t answer, only blush. “Was it maybe, possibly, that you wanted me to put that pretty mouth to good use?” He whispers right in her ear.
This only makes her squirm more, and that makes Elvis laugh. “What’s wrong? Use your words, sweet girl~” She huffs and looks away. “No, no, that simply won’t do... I guess there’s nothing you want then...” Again another huff escapes his omega. “N-no, wait-” his hands continue teasing her, light traces and touches all over.
“Yes, baby?” His grin is wide, he absolutely loves when she gets like this. “I-I need you, Alpha...please...” How could he ever possibly on earth deny his sweet girl anything? Especially when she asks so nicely. “Come on, I think we’ve practiced enough. Don’t you agree?”
Hi! What kinds of requests do you like to write? Would it be okay if I send in one for Morpheus?
Hi dear! I accept all sorts of requests which you can read of here. But to answer your question, you are so very welcome to send in a Morpheus request. I just can't promise I'll write/post it immediately since I am in the middle of end of year exams. But I'll do my best to get to it. And thank you for asking 🥰
Hi 👋, My name is Mohammad, and I’m reaching out in a moment of desperate need. I’m a father of three young children living in Gaza, and we are caught in the midst of a catastrophic war. Our home is no longer a safe haven, and the future here seems increasingly uncertain. 💔
I’ve launched a fundraising campaign with the goal of raising $40,000 to relocate my family to a safer place where my children can grow up in peace and have a chance at a brighter future.
Unfortunately, my previous fundraising efforts were abruptly halted when my account was terminated without explanation. However, I remain determined to keep fighting for my family’s safety and well-being. 🫶
If you could take a moment to read our story, consider donating, or simply share our campaign with others, it would make an incredible difference. Every act of kindness, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety and a new beginning. 🙏
Thank you for your time, compassion, and support. ❤️🩹
https://gofund.me/fd1faea2 🔗
I am so sorry that this is happening to you and your family. Unfortunately I am still a student and do not make my own money. (I also don't make any money from my writing) But I am posting this in hope that the word is spread and more people are aware and able to donate to your cause. Hope you and your family can come out of this alive and safely 💜🙌🏼
Summary: All your life, Thor's blue eyes have haunted you. You believed you outran him, but now all your hopes come tumbling down.
Warnings: Cursing, mentions of Hel, Asgard, Valhalla, lightning strikes. Talk about slavery. Fire. Nakedness in front of a lot of people. Choking, yelling, chains, parental issues. Google Translate Norwegian. Scars. Body image issues. Talking about not eating. Dungeons. Thor straight up tries to kill you in this one...Tell me if I missed any.
Three months and nothing to fill your ears but the constant down pour of rain. You feel like an empty husk of yourself. The healers they’d come inside, clean your wound, leave food and then leave. The scar left behind...it’s a reminder on your body of something so violent. You spent hours on end looking in the mirror, tracing the white-pink mark. You’d stretch your stomach, looking at the way it move with your skin.
Then the tears would start again. Of course Thor hasn’t come to see you. Who would want you now? A slightly reminder of your disobedience, if only you stayed with him. You should have known he’d never want you to leave his side. You’d bite the inside of your cheeks until you could taste the metal dripping out your mouth. And then you’d check again. Red, blood red. Not even a speck of gold.
An annoyed gasp escapes you, with what strength you have you’d hit the mirror. But, it doesn’t have much effect. It doesn’t fill the rage that has been swirling around inside you. You feel so stupid. You know he had to cut his trip short because of your insolence. And here you sit in your room, crying because you miss him. His warmth, his voice and those eyes.
You hang over the balcony, you look down at the village. Very few people are outside, just those who really need to be. To keep their families alive, to hunt and to fish. But when they open their door the water comes pouring in. Flooding their homes. All because these three months it hasn’t once stopped raining.
Some part of you feels guilty for it. You know you can't control the weather, but if you could it would be like this. It’s supposed to be warmer now. It’s still cold like it should be in the deep of the winter and the sun hasn’t shown once. It’s not Spring like it should be. And New Asgard is struggling for it.
“I heard you aren’t eating.” The voice is rough and deep and one you recognise so easily. You scoff, but it hurts to do, your throat is raw from all the crying. “Like you care. You don’t want me anymore.” It’s almost as if a growl escapes him and then suddenly his large hand is on your neck, pulling you back to face him.
His lip curls up in a disgusted snarl. “You look terrible.” Your eyes are quick to find his. You find comfort in that neon blue that you’ve never been able to escape. You taste salty tears, your nose feels stuffy. His thumb grazes your cheek, his growl softens. “A Queen is not allowed to cry. Have I not taught you this already?”
“Not even in front of you?” You search for something, anything. But all you get back is anger and pain. He doesn’t like to see you cry, but in your mind he doesn’t like you being weak. Your eyes avoid his, your hands come up and wipe away the tears with the back of your hand. ”I’m sorry.” You quickly mumble.
Thunder cracks through the sky, you jump slightly and then he has you in his arms. A firm grasp, like he’s protecting you from the whole world. Like he’s scared you’ll be gone any second now. Like he’s going to lose you again. Like something is after you and he needs to save you from it. “My little dove.”
This makes you remember what you’ve been wanting to give him for so long now. “Thor...?” He’s so hesitant to let you from his grasp. Only when you raise your head and show him that you’re alright does he let you go. “I got you something.” His eyes watch you while you walk over to your side of the bed and pull that necklace you bought so so many months ago.
You dangle the dove necklace in front of him but his expression turns sour. Another huge lightning bolt hits right outside. Right on the balcony. The fur carpet that Thor had instructed be laid out so that your feet do not get cold, gets hit with the lightning and fire ignites from it. Roaring flames spill from it and you jump with shock and fear.
Yet Thor doesn’t move. Instead his jaw locks tight and he grabs the necklace from you so hard that the chain almost breaks. “Where did you get this?” His voice is rough and in that moment all you can see is that night where he showed up dripping in blood. The blood none of his and only of men he has killed.
You only see the anger of a gruesome murder. “I-” The lightning hits just outside the balcony again, the tree hits on fire. You jump, the fear settles in your body as the curtains catch on fire. The fire is quickly spreading, but you cannot run. For Thor’s thick battle-hardened hands wrap around your neck.
With a simple squeeze, that threatens to end your life, he repeats himself. “Where did you get this?” Your small hands claw as his and he lets go just enough for you to breathe again. “When you left the kingdom in my hands, I went to the market. A old woman there, she sold it to me.” Thor mumbles an array of curses under his breath.
He still doesn’t seem too bothered by the raging fire creeping into your bedroom. All he does is groan and then quite suddenly he bends down, wrapping his arms around your knees and throws you over his shoulder. His large steps carry you out of the room. He shoots out a rough command for the guards to, “Handle it.” In return, once they see the fire, the begins scrambling like headless chickens.
“Where are we going?” You ask, trying to see him but you’re only met with a head full of hair. “To do what I should’ve done the damn day I burned your fucking parents alive.” A gasp falls from your lips. He’s never addressed that day. The only sense of apology you’ve gotten from it is the guilt in his eyes when you bring it up.
But this is brutal. This cuts deep like a knife and twists and you can feel your heart beat in your ears as the fear rattles your body. No longer are you comforted by his presence. Instead, only terrified. Like a mouse being hunted, your breathing is quick and shallow. You begin hitting him, screaming, fighting for any sort of escape.
“I should have fucking known!” He yells when he stomps down the steps of the dungeon. You’re reminded of the stink of blood that this place oozes. “I should have known not to trust a snake bitch like you.” He snaps, dropping you down onto the floor of one of the prisons.
He grabs a neck collar and chain. The metal is heavy, and you stagger with the extra weight. He grabs you by the hair on your scalp. He pulls you up. Forced to meet those electric blue eyes. Outside, the storm is raging. Swirling with thunder and lightning. Each strike hits the floor outside the castle.
Fire surrounds the castle and the knights are struggling to keep the flames at bay. Should he not be doing something about this? Rather, he’s down here with you. “Was this your plan all along?” He grunts when the only reply you give is tears of fear. “Colluding with the gods?” He snaps again.
When you again only reply with whimpers he bellows out. “I trusted you!” You try to scramble away, the sharp sting of his hand gripping your hair shoots pain through your body. “Thor- please- I don’t understand-” You try to beg but it only back fires. He drops you down onto the wet floor of the dungeon.
“Don’t give me that! You planned with the gods. They sent you down here, you wormed your way into my heart. Made me utter the words of submission! For what? A chance to sit at the God’s table?” He yells out, pacing up and down the dungeon each of his steps causing a wet plop sound.
“Did they promise you eternal life? Powers of a God?” He scoffs, blue lightning jumps all over his body and it only confuses you more as to what is really happening. “Did I not teach you to trust only me? Obey only me?” He snaps, cursing again.
Thor pinches the bridge of his noise “I should just fucking kill you, for your betrayal.” He lifts his head, turning back over to you. Like he’s been struck with an idea. He has this sort of crazed look in his eyes. And...a smile. When have you ever seen him smile?
“I’m going to fucking kill you.”
Thor laughs, his shoulders shaking. “That’ll really show them.”
The cold settles in your bones. You can barely see the crowd watching you through the thick cloud of rain hanging over the coliseum. You try your best to cover up your naked body with your hands, but that still leaves you shivering. Your body is ice cold from adrenaline. This is where that knight got killed and you can only assume it’s going to be the same for you.
The crowd cheers when you hear the gate open. You can’t see what it is, but can only assume it to be somebody’s worst nightmare. Something comparable with hell itself. Something that most certainly spells out your death.
Footsteps echo and the mist clears in front of you. True it is, the one thing you fear, now, over monsters and the sky falling. Thor himself. He is dressed the same as you. Except he looks...Godly. Where before you were certain he was a Titan sent to overcome the gods. Now, you see he is one of them.
The rain doesn’t touch him. It’s as scared as you are of his wrath. Blue lightning jumps across his body. His beauty is glaring. His skin looks to be glowing, his eyes bluer than ever before. His hair shining like gold. His body looks to exist entirely out of muscle, pure power oozes from him.
He’s got this smirk on his face, he’s smiled more when he thought of killing than he ever did while fucking you. When he touches your cheek, he’s entirely warm. As if the cold cannot even reach him, his skin entirely impenetrable. His voice is husky and like silk when he bends down and whispers in your ear.
“Today, you will meet the gods. And they will curse you down to forever wander the coldest pit of Hel.”
Your knees give in. And as if something over comes you in that moment, you repeat the words he had that night. The world shifts and turns into one of glittering gold. Grass the colour of sunlight under your knees and you gasp, seeing Thor in all his glory. Red fur sits on his shoulders, his armour is a metal you’ve never seen before. On top his head sits a crown made from stone that reflect the golden light all around.
But what’s even more shocking is that you two are not alone. Not the bystanders, no. Gods. Odin himself, who else would lack an eye? Frigga herself, who else would exude such love? Heimdall, Balder, Ty, all 11 Gods. And Thor makes 12.
Thor scoffs, “You’ve brought me in front of them? Good, let them see my power and resistance.” He speaks in a language you suddenly understand. “This will not end well and you know it.” Frigga speaks in that very same tongue.
Your body acts before you can, reaching out to grab Thor’s pantleg. “Is this real?” He scoffs, “Do not act as if you’ve never seen them or Asgard before.” He turns back to argue with his mother, but she shakes her head no. Then his head snaps back down to you. His eyes wide as a realisation settles on him.
“You have not seen them...?” You gulp and shake your head no. He blinks, looking back up at his Godly parents.
“You submitted Thor. We returned your power back to you. You must return to the pantheon. Take your rightful seat as heir. With your soulmate by your side.” Thor staggers back, he sees his thousand years on earth flash before him. How hard he worked to overthrow the man who’s crown is heavier than his own. Only to submit in the scramble of trying to save the life of a girl.
Thor looks down at you. Dressed in the finest Asgardian dress. Hair braided the right way for a future queen. A crown sits atop your head that you had yet to notice. You’re too busy gawking around at the sights that no other mortal has or ever will see again. This is no simple girl. It’s his soulmate.
His voice shakes, how has his thousand years of planning all been brought down by the single sight of eyes that glow like his own? “Or you can kill her and die along with her. Letting the world fall off balance and let Loki take your place.” That can’t happen, all the realms would fall into chaos.
“Or you can join her back on Midgard. You can continue to try and raise an army that will never be strong enough to face even one of the Gods. And slowly watch her wither away and die as a mortal. Since you seem so keen on denying her rightful seat on the pantheon with your selfish desires.”
“I will not let her become a slave to any God.” Thor interrupts. Shouting at his parents, pointing to the girl clinging to him. “Look at her, son.” Frigga sits more upright. He looks down, this time seeing the weak, naked girl with the chain around her neck, crying and begging for her life to be saved by Thor.
“She already is one.”
They’re toying with his mind again.
(This is the second last part if you do want to be added to the taglist)
Summary: A young author travels away from her family to The Opera she has heard so much about. She is lost and confused and yet still seems to get a job there as a cleaner. Yet when she meets a mysterious man there, everything changes. Her mind is entirely consumed, but will she allow her burning need for him to consume her life as well?
Warnings: Kissing, cuddling, impure thoughts, alcohol, I would also just like to remind everyone that the life expectancy back then was 60.
The door flies open and a tall elegant lady opens the door. She glares at Elliott, before her eyes soften when she sees me. She opens the door wider. “You come home, who knows what time at night, smelling of beer and with a girl?” She scolds, closing the door and crossing her arms. “Oh, grand-mère,” he coos, taking his grandma’s face in his hands and giving her a kiss on every cheek.
“Tu devrais la voir comme une famille. C'est une Claremont.” He says, now both having their stormy grey eyes keenly trained on my every movement. The older woman hums and raises her brow. “Elle dit qu'elle travaille à l'opéra.” This makes the corner of the woman’s lip slide up in the slightest, pleased grin. “Opera Populair?” Quickly, I nod. Just barely could I keep up with their French but I did hear the words ‘opera house’ and then she smiled. Clearly, she likes that part.
Elliott’s grandmother walks forward, swiftly placing a kiss on each cheek. “Poor girl, what are you doing so far from home? Does the music not want you anymore?” She coos, her eyes jumping all over my face, as if searching for something under my skin. “The music has it’s grip too deep in my soul.” She laughs and nods. “An uncommon problem. Come, sit, I made dinner...”
Her eyes look through my soul. It’s like she and I are speaking our own language. In a trance of the touch of her hands and the knowing she carries. Clearly, she knows more than she leads on and I almost groan. I wanted to escape the thoughts of him. I wanted the rain to wash it away and leave me the clean slate I was before ever coming to this damned place. Rather, before ever seeing those almost green eyes.
The red wine swirls in the wine glass and the fire crackles in the background. He’s been in this trance since his grandmother went to bed. “I didn’t think you know how to be quiet.” He does a grin that looks to be saying ‘now is not the time.’ I swallow my words, nodding, to show him I understand he doesn’t want to joke. He wants to be serious. I rarely know how to be serious, all I really ever want to do is laugh. I choose to fill the silence with the sip of my red wine.
The air is thick. His brows are in a frown and he seems to be thinking of everything all together. His coat is hung up and he’s only in his flowy under shirt. It frames his muscles. His calloused hands put down his own whiskey glass. His jaw locks and he sighs leaning in forward. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. Elliott’s hand pulls his hair back and out his face before his stormy eyes finally settle on mine.
“I must ask something of you. A partial stranger.” I can only gulp, leaning in to his words. “My grand-mama, I worry about her. She’ll tell you that she’s as young as you and doesn’t need any help but... she’ll be 55 one of these days. She is lonely more than anything. And I can’t be with her every day as I’d like to be. I’m away for months on end...” I instantly notice what he’s trying to explain.
“You wish for me to stay with her the summer? Check up on her on the weekends?” I fill in his sentence for him. He swallows his wine and nods. “She is familiar with your family, you two seem to be getting along quite well... I’d owe my life if you’d agree.” Grey eyes suddenly seem full of an emotion not quite sure of. A mixture of beg and need. His hair has started to dry down in an sun-kissed blonde. The dark blonde brows are plucked together in worry for his grandmother.
“I just met her and-” his hand reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You’ve stopped shivering.” Elliott’s voice is almost a whisper, more sultry than anything. But his eyes aren’t anywhere near my shaking body. Rather glued onto my lips. “Am I suddenly no longer a spoiled brat?” He lets out a boisterous laugh. One that I’ve never heard Erik let out, he never laughs and he rarely smiles.
There I go, thinking of him again.
Elliott’s hand rests on my cheek, leaning in more. “You’re definitely starting to grow on me...” A giggle escapes my lips, I allow him to guide me further down on the couch. He takes my wine glass from my hand and places it on the nearest coffee table. “Please, ma dame, may I kiss you?” My breathing hitches and I can hear my heart pounding. Should I consent? I just cursed myself out for stupid choices involving men.
But can I really focus and think clearly when his hand has moved onto my waist. His body pressed so tightly against mine. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. His hot breath heating up my neck. “Please, please, jolie dame. I must feel your lips on mine.” Just hours ago, Erik refused to even let me imagine us together. And he only kissed me as a botched solution for his idiotic words. Now, this man, even more handsome under the light of the fire, is begging to kiss me.
How can I ever deny him when there’s nothing more I crave now than a man’s body inside mine. Cradling me and distracting me from any and all reckless mistakes I’ve made. For the pleasure of the body to overcome the terrible thoughts of the mind.
Elliott’s eyes are on mine and mine on his. And I can see them light up when my head slowly nods yes. His lips are cracked and tastes so salty. I savour the taste of ocean on his skin. And I can feel him adjust my body in his hands so that my body can be closer to his. Elliott’s hair is still damp under my finger tips and an a guttural noise reverberates from his chest when I give his hair a slight yank.
My breath is quick and short when his lips leave mine. His grey, barely blue eyes search my face all over. Until his lips spread out in a grin, “You’ve distracted me, mon cherie.” I laugh and as I do, he presses his cheek against the bare skin of my chest and neck. Like a kitten purring in my lap. A dog begging for cuddles. “I’ve distracted you?” I can’t help but laugh.
He hums and nods, “I never kiss a lady I just met...” Elliott rests his chin on my chin, looking up at me. “I’m certain we’ve met before. At some stuffy tea party or boring ball.” His warm chest vibrates as he laughs at my words. “Is that your way of asking me to kiss you again?” I can’t help but shrug my shoulders. “Would that be so wrong of me?” He hums, one of his hands escape from under my body and land on my cheek.
Elliott’s thumb swipes left and then right over my cheek. “Only on one condition.” My hand mirrors his in the locks of his hair. “Anything.” He smiles at my reply. “Tell me you’ll stay with my grand-maman, take care of her when I’m not here to?” I can see just how much he cares for his grandmother, the love he feels for her. Even more so the responsibility he feels for her.
Again his grey eyes turn bluer when I slowly nod yes. How can I not? I have no where else to stay. And rather I should be the one begin him to stay. He sits more upright, straddling my waist. Elliott takes my hands in his. “Thank you, thank you so much Mariposa. Vous ne comprenez pas à quel point cela compte pour moi. Merci, merci. Je retire tout ce que j'ai dit.” He can very clearly see the confusion behind my eyes, because he laughs. Full of joy and amusement. “Don’t worry, I only thank you.”
“Rien de ce que vous faites n’est très gracieux, n’est-ce pas?” My head snaps up, all thoughts of the two men in my life being interrupted by the French of the old woman. I groan, she insists on speaking only French to me. I’ve been doing my best to keep up but our conversations tend to be choppy with a lot of repeating. But I can make out her words to be something about me not being graceful.
“I am not Prima Ballerina as you used to be. I clean and I write and that’s just about it.” She hums and nods. “I do not see what he sees in you.” Again I sigh, “I promise you, Madam, your grandson and I only kissed. Nothing more.” Again she hums and I can see the disbelief behind her eyes. “You already look pregnant.” I stop my sweeping at her rude comment. “That wasn’t very polite, now was it?” I choose to avoid her jab at my weight. I know the ballerinas all aim to be as thin as possible.
She replies with a tsk noise, not bothering herself with my scold. “I was not talking about my grandson.” I tilt my head to the side. My hair has gotten longer, it’s just barely past my shoulders. “Who then?” She repeats her easier tsk sound. “You know who I am talking of.” I gulp when my mind immediately jumps to one man and one man only. I go to laugh and brush her off but she interrupts me. “He was there in my last years of teaching. Back then Madam Giry was his obsession.”
Time slows when her words make much more sense than they should. “She...knows of him?” Elliott’s grandmother nods, “But of course...Now tell me...what does he see in you?” My mouth is dry and my mind whirls, trying to decide if I should share with her. Ultimately, I decide to pull myself a chair and sit down next to her. And with great detail, more than the older woman likely wanted, I explain my relationship with the man that haunts my every move. Who’s she going to tell?
“I do not know what to do.” Is how I finish my story. She sighs, intertwining her fingers and leaning further back in her chair. “I think it was foolish of you to ever even believe someone like him could ever even love.” My brows pull together. “Do you not believe him to be human?” She almost laughs, in the last month or so I have yet to see her smile like she did when Elliott was here.
She shakes her head. “He is human, just perhaps not one capable of loving.” That feels so cruel to say. I could see kindness and compassion behind his eyes. Even more so when he looks at me. Ike I hold the answers to the world in my eyes. He always looks like he’s on the verge of tears and just about ready to break down. Erik just holds so much emotion, no where near the heartless beast she imagines him to be.
“But I can see in your eyes you do not agree with me.” My lips pull up in a shy smile. “I know what it’s like to be young and in love.” Now my smile is a laugh. “Only enjoy it. Once the dream becomes a nightmare, you’ll wish you’d enjoyed it more in the moment. And that you didn’t spend so much time stressing about it.” The way that she speaks it’s as if she knows. “Especially if you’re his second girl.”
And instantly, my mind goes to Christine
It was like I hit the golden treasure when I found her notebook in my tunnels. I couldn’t control myself. I had to know each and everyone of her thoughts. And what I read was so utterly beautiful, I couldn’t stop. I had to make sure that the whole world knew of this. Could experience it just as I have. And after a month of utter writers block, I knew each and every word that would come next.
The words that would bind together and make this story she has made into the perfect play. And along with a semi-threatening message, I left the play, in her name, on the director’s desk. When all returns, the world will see her in all her glory. See just how magnificent her mind is compared to the other simpletons that run this place.
Summary: Love is Desire's first creation. As Cupid she shoots her arrows of love and rips them from people's hearts too. Occasionally, shooting a soulmate arrow. What does she do when her first Soulmate arrow in 100 years is between Cupid and Dream?
Pairing: Dream of the Endless x OFC Love/Cupid/Venus (you know how these beings have millions of names) (Also technically it could be an x reader because love is sort of anthropomorphic but in this story a she)
Warnings: Manipulation, threats, crying, cliffhanger, unedited, kind of like enemies to lovers, soulmate au, cursing, gore, snake slander :(tell me if I miss any.
The hall is somehow even quieter than when Morpheus was captured. Everyone is far too scared to interrupt the stare down between Dream and Love. Love doesn’t need to breathe and yet it feels like she is suffocating. This...might just be their first time seeing each other since Dream gifted her the realm. Each had been too busy with their duties.
But it’s not awkward or painful between them. For the first time in Lucine’s life, she sees her master reach out. His long slender arm escapes from under his starry robe. A stark white contrast against the darkness of the dreaming castle. A gentle big outreach for her to come closer.
There is a click as she steps forward, her body instinctively wanting to be closer to him. She know she should think more clearly about this, and yet, she doesn’t. Love’s smaller, tanner hand slides into his and with seconds Dream’s arms are around her. Cradling her close and an unknown sob shudders through her body.
Tiny hands grab onto the felt of his big black coat. The fabric absorbs the tears that gently roll down her cheeks. She shakes her head, her golden spun hair falling lose from her usual braid. “Don’t, don’t do that. Please, don’t do that again.” She begs, her body shaking and Dream places a kiss on the top of her head.
His large hand cradles her head and every time she begs for him to never mess with her mind again, he replies with a simple: “I won’t. I’m sorry.” Lucienne has never seen Dream be anything but stoic and angry. Discipline of his realm and his creation has only ever been the only thing he enacted.
But now...he’s cradling this little flower. The embodiment of love and joy and everything soft and cuddly. An emotional girl who feels everything and anything from the slightest blink and trip. Hushing her as she cries into his chest. Black against her pink. And the red thudding heart the two of them share.
When her cries slowly die down, she realises the position they’re in. And that the whole court is just sort of standing there...watching them as Dream comforts little Love. She steps back, looking up at him with these teary brown eyes that makes him want to burn the world down all of the sudden.
“I’m sorry, it’s just-” She realises how she must look. She wipes her tears off on the back of her hand. She flattens down the frizz of her hair. “-it was like with Desire. And-” Dream stops her with a gentle hand on her upper arm. Rubbing soft circles to remind her that her body is hers and she has control.
“I understand, Love. I acted before thinking of how it might affect you and I...I must earnestly apologize.” He speaks and again everyone is scared to breathe. That century must’ve really done him good, or perhaps it’s the ball of sunshine he now feels responsible for because he’s never apologized before...
Love lets her shoulders drop slightly, feeling the weight drop from her back. She sort of looks around from Dream to the librarian to the raven. She realises that she’d likely interrupted something. She swallows, “I’m sorry, um,” she gathers her thoughts, “you called me here...” She looks up at Dream, allowing him to finish the question on his own.
Dream seems to ignore the utter urgency that he was feeling before this. And he doesn’t allow for Love to slip from his arms either. He shows nonchalance to the rest of his people, but behind her back, he balls the fabric of her dress in his hands. Resting on her lower back, clenching the pink dress until his knuckles turn whiter that the pale he already is.
All from guilt, utter guilt. How could he not have thought this through? The seriousness of having to fix this great danger in the universe overcame all his mind and then hers. He hadn’t even realised he could climb in her mind like he can his other subjects. Dream can do that with the dreaming inhabitants because they are a part of him. That would mean that Love is a part of him...
It has to be true because their hearts beat in the same rhythm. Not yet one because she still carries the arrow with her. But they know, they know they’re meant to be. Their souls yearn for each other, no matter how their minds fight the reality of it all.
Lucienne forces herself to speak up. To step forward because it would seem her creator’s mind has faded to other matters. Much prettier matters than the horrifying gaping black hole that could possibly consume the dreaming, an ugly matter. “Cupid, why were you talking to Rose?” Big golden eyes, usually warm and caring now confused and frightened.
“I’m not there for her.” A sweet voice that makes Dream’s cold icy heart begin to defrost. “But you were with her?” Lucienne repeats. “Her friend, Lyta. She has a broken heart but refuses to let go... It can be quite the horrific site and if the arrow stays in her heart much longer, the effects could be drastic...” They all turn and look to each other, like they know something she doesn’t.
“What?” Lucienne sighs and Dream conjures up his sand, making up sights and sounds to explain the severity of the situation. “Rose Walker. Something called a dream vortex....”
She feels like a little girl who’s just been scolded. She can’t understand them, she can’t understand how they don’t see to even care about Rose, as a person. She’s just a girl looking for her brother. Why they’re so dead set on killing her, she can’t comprehend it. Rose has a whole life she’s meant to live. A pink or maybe red arrow waiting for her somewhere in the world. A heart tethered to hers, waiting to see her smile for the first time. And they just want to take that all away, no consideration for what Destiny has planned for her.
Cupid huffs, pouting like a little girl too. Her pouting lips resting against her knees that are pulled up against her chest. Her bare toes digging into the mud that oozes water, coming from the lake, when she does. She watches as the little fish go to take a nipple of her toes and then jump away when she wiggles them just a little. Then the ripples of water it creates across the pond. Bouncing from the walls of mud and reeds all the way under the little stone bridge allowing the teddies access over the pond.
They berated her too like a little girl. How dare she even consider that the life of one girl is as important as the whole dreaming and all its dreamers? She can’t even believe they’d ask such a thing. She loved all the mortals, with all her heart she loved them. Even when they curse and scream at her for the agony she has no choice in. Is she just a naive little girl? Should she keep her nose out of Dream’s important politics and stick to her fairies and teddies and hearts and arrows?
How can she not say anything? Accept it as is? Accept the death of a young woman, because, what? She might harm Dream? That girl won’t harm a fly, unless of course the flies that dare sit on her brother’s food. Can’t Morpheus understand that it isn’t hate that fuels her but love, love for her brother? Of course he can’t. He’s never loved anyone. If he did, she’d be the first one and maybe the only one to ever know. The fact that he seems so complacent and maybe even started this idea of killing the girl makes her utterly furious at him.
Furious...?
Has Love ever been angry before? She’d felt sad before, mourning the death of a love bond. Guilty, yes, when having to take the love from people. Scared when Desire taunted her so. Obedient when he’d command her. Empty when he’d take over her body. But not angry at him for it... Even when she had accidently taken that soul, she was not angry. She was scared, scared of herself, scared of what Desire might do, what might happen to her.
But angry, like this? No...
The hot sun’s rays are interrupted by a dark cloudy man who sits himself down right next to Love. Well...with a distance of course. A distance that makes both of their hearts tugg but neither of them would admit it. They can’t love each other, the arrow has not been planted. And they can’t like each other, they’re polar opposites. But they do, at least, Dream knew it was guilt that he felt when Cupid’s smile dropped learning about Rose. And a complete and utter sense of emergency to fix this.
At least, Dream thinks there shouldn’t be a universe where she isn’t smiling. Much less pouting and brooding in her garden, her flowery kingdom, like she does now. It’s a wrong doing for the universe for his little sunshine to be cloudy...His?...
“You look like a fairy. Like those the little girls dream of...” Cupid shrinks away from him and hides her wings when he makes the comment. “I’m not a fairy. That’s a fairy.” She looks at one of her creatures, tiny little fluttering wings and jumping from flower petal to dew drop. “Of course not.” He replies, hoping that agreeing with her might be at least a start to remedy the situation. But it isn’t and he realises that when she huffs and turns away, suddenly the moss growing on the tree is much more interesting than anything on the side he’s sitting.
His hand twitches as he stops himself from grabbing her face and forcing her to look at him. He has to be soft he keeps reminding himself. He can’t just take what he wants. But he himself isn’t ever sure what it is that he wants. Why suddenly seeing her in such distress make him... angry...? Who dares hurt such a sweet soft thing, love herself?
“Love-“ her head swivels for her eyes to snap at him and glare his soul straight out his body. “Leave.” She huffs, with this new sudden stubbornness he’s never heard before from her. “No.” He replies with the same zing. His stark eyes clash with hers. As if in a battle of wits to see who’s the most stubborn. Nothing but their breathing and the chirping life around them is to be heard. Besides, of course, the clashing swords of wills.
But she’s never been one to fight and even less so with someone who’s done so much for her. She stands up. No longer challenging his mirroring of her own stubbornness, she walks until she feels the wet, squishy mud of the lake in between her toes. “Dream...you have done much for me. Brought me peace and allowed me to bloom...” She walks until she can feel the warm lake water up to her fingertips.
“Showed me the power I did not know I held...” She walks until she can feel the slimy plants cling to her waist. “But know this-” She turns, her hair frizzy from the humidity of the lake. The sunlight hits her just right, making her look like a nymph that makes Morpheus’ heart beat just a bit faster than it had been. And her brown eyes look just about ready to devour him for the sin of even thinking about going against her will.
“-I will not put the well-being of the humans over a love that must still bloom.” And then she walks until the aqua swirls in her ears and stings her eyes. All only to make it seem that the tears rolling down her cheeks are only that- water. All only to convince her heart that their connection hasn’t pooled into a reservoir she saves for herself when the loneliness creeps up on her. That the flowers of love aren’t being watered. And that the branches of the heart hasn’t started to flourish for the first time since her creation.
Desire had to have loved her at some point, right? This can’t possible be the first time she’s felt all...warm inside. But she had been so angry...? The agony humans feel when they are in love she remembers to be quite similar...
Hii, are you going to continue The Desire to be Loved? If so please add me to the taglist! ♡
Hi! I am going to update Desire to be Loved. Probably some time after the 18th since that's when my Pre-lims end. (I doubt anyone outside of South Africa knows what that means but okay) I feel terrible for making everyone wait but I was studying hard, focusing on my future💪🏼 and stuff. And I'll be sure to tag you (and everyone who asked) on the next post's tag list🫶🏼
Okay guys so...my PC broke🫨 it's um, done for. 2008 model so...yeah no there's not saving it... So if the formatting of this is weird, that would be the reason, I'm doing this on my phone.
Pairing: 70s!Elvis Presley x fem!reader
Summary: Elvis accidentally runs into a time traveler and doesn't even know it. All he knows is that she somehow just knows everything about him. Especially how badly he needs a good cuddle
Warnings: Topless reader, topless Elvis. Fluff. Angst (Elvis cries)(his ouchie body🙁) Mommy kink?? Idk this one might be a little weird guys... But he's so bbg really. Submissive Elvis. Coddling Elvis. Mentions if skin-to-skin contact. Mentions of Gladys Presley and how much Elvis missed her :(.
Word count: 2k+ unedited
Dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Just another groupie, he would have thought if it wasn’t for the way that he looked at her. Like she sees right through him. As if she knows everything about him. Past, present and future. Across the room, where the people mingle after his show. The VIP’s so excited to have the honour and the money to meet him. All too scared to touch him, for he is the king and they are but onlookers.
Long meaningful strides to the face that calls to him in the crowd. Eyes so warm and so clear of mind. Set on him and him alone. No other thought behind those eyes except the ones reflecting his own blue eyes. The light hits her and makes the frizz of her hair look like a halo and not an imperfection. Is her breathing matching his? He could swear he saw her chest rise and fall in rhythm as he takes a sharp inhale.
His hands fall on her upper arms, just below her shoulder. Wrapping all the way around and holding her like a Christmas present. Careful not to tear at the wrapping, wanting to appreciate the effort that has gone into the sharp folds of the corners and delicate little bow on top. Bound together by tape. Christmas lights, red, then green, then red again shining down on the present, begging to be opened.
“Hi.”
His tone of voice like one he’s known all his life. Like he would greet an old friend, one which you share such a bond with that even after years it’s still the same. The ruffles of her shirt conceal the soft skin that he so desperately wants to feel under his palms. His thumbs moves the finespun sleeve up, Elvis has to hold back a groan when he feels just how silky her pale skin is.
“Hi.”
She replies in the same manner as his. The lights reflect in the wet of her eyes, making it look like diamonds under sunlight. Long lashes blink, to truly take him in. His tan skin, from his Hawaii vacation she knows, his straight nose and soft pillow lips. Just how warm his hands are around her arms. Just how many hours she spent dreaming about this.
“Do I know you?”
A moment where they both seem to take in this bizarre moment. Anon, as if it was meant to be, they both just sort of break out in giggles. His wide smile that she’s seen so many pictures of. And a real laugh that the home tapes haven’t captured exactly. Simply because they can’t copy the echo. Or the way his eyes scrunch up and he leans forward against her. Or this crazy farm feeling that usually gets covered with shame.
But there is no shame now. Because this is real. Can you believe it? He’s actually here, in front of you. Holding you even. For him, it feels even crazier. Who are you? What is happening? Why do you seem to look right into his soul? You two must know each other. She looks so familiar, like those people you meet in your dreams and then suddenly see them walking past you on the street.
“No.” She says in between laughs and again he struggles to believe that. “Come on. I must’ve met you somewhere. Even just, on the road or- I don’t know in a bathroom line.” The girl just shakes her head again. “Do you even use public toilets?” He quickly eats his words. “No, I guess not really.” She can’t help but smile at the foolishness of this all. Of the craziness of this, really.
He slings his arm over her shoulder, like the photos, tucking her into his side. She can hear her heart beating louder than ever before. She’s scared she might even pass out from excitement. He’s so close, she can smell the Brut perfum against his neck, just like Priscilla said. She’s living every girl’s dream right now. Every crazy fangirl’s dream.
“Well then, I think we ought tah get tah know each other then, huh? Honey?” She practiced her soft smile in the mirror and she can only hope that it’s being reflected right now. She just barely moves her head in a nod. “I think so too.” Her eyes drink in every single behind road he takes, in hopes she can follow the path when this is all over.
He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it against the nearest chair’s back. “Darlin’... I jus’ can’t seem to place yer accent. Where did you say you’re from?” She has to make an active effort not to bite her lip, she doesn’t want to be that girl. She shakes her head. “I didn’t.” That crooked smile overcomes him. “Oh, right. Well, please do tell me.”
Crap. Now she has to think incredibly quickly. Her geography isn’t exactly the best and she’s never really cared to put in much interest in the timeline of America. “Up North.” His brows raise, “No spot spicific?” She’s quick to shake her head. “No...we travelled a lot.” His eyes go sympathetic, “Ah get that. Ah haven’t stopped traveling since this whole lot started.” She gets this look in her eyes, like she knows.
No one has ever before reached the level of fame he has. How could she know? How could she so convincingly act like she knows? But it feels so real, so much so that his heart and body feel all warm inside. “Yeah?” She replies, a one common word and yet it feels like it’s the perfect response. Not forcing him to go on, but rather inviting him to. Still, though, not at the same time. Leaving it open for him to decide if he says more or doesn’t.
“Yah mind if I go change into something more comfortable?” She’s quick to shake her head no. “Not at all.” It’s only warm smiles from him and to her and then back again. He seems reluctant to be away from her for even a bit. But when he does eventually pry his eyes from her, he speaks again. “Make yerself comfortable, little one.”
You have to stop yourself from gasping. The nickname reserved for Priscilla. And something you’ve done has made him deem you worthy for it. No one else has taken any notice of you. All brushing you off, that is what you wanted, you will admit. But you bought the VIP ticket with the intention of only catching a glimpse of him. Maybe even if you were somehow possibly lucky enough, a peck. Like he gives the front row girls.
Now, you’re in the famous International Hotel’s very own Elvis Presley’s residence and you’re damn sure you’re going to explode with joy. Or maybe even cry. Or hell, both! You know you shouldn’t snoop, having earned his trust, somehow. But you need to see this all, while you still have the chance. The universe could play some cruel joke and take this away from you any minute now.
Trinkets, of a price you can only imagine, scattered all over the place. A real, now not vintage, plate player. You gasp, quickly searching through the stack for your favourite song. You’re not really entirely sure how it works, you never could afford one of your own. Your fingers stumble, trying to get the needle to pick up the song.
Not that you have to put it on, large hands take the needle from you. Practiced, this is all he’s known, first try gets the needle to take. His voice plays from the record, his brow raises. “Yah like this one, darlin’?” The girl smiles, “I do, it’s my favourite.” He chuckles, “I jus’ sang this on stage, yah wanna listen tah it again?” Her lashes flutter like she can’t believe he’d ask such a question.
“I could listen to you reading the bible and still wouldn’t get bored.” You choose each word so specifically. And you knew he’d grin at that. “Is that so?” The girl smiles, her head tilts to the side. Again she seems to look deep into his soul. Into his true desires for gospel and the Word. Her brows furrow, her eyes get filled with this sort of hurt. She seems to be searching his face, inspecting every bit. He feels insecure, does she notice the way his cheeks are rounder? Or just how much she makes him sweat?
“Sit down, sweetheart.” Her voice takes this nurturing tone that he yearns for since his mama... When she takes his wrist and guides him over to the couch, he doesn’t protest. It’s the way she does it with so much love in each action. Even holding her hand out for him as he sits down, take the pressure off his soar knees.
She bends over, he can’t help but take a peak under her shirt. But his intentions seem so wrong when she places a tender kiss on his forehead. “You’re done performing. It’s just you and me now. I won’t judge, I wouldn’t dare even think of it. You can relax.” She mumbles, then presses another kiss against his forehead.
The girl, who’s name he has yet to ask, takes this huge pressure off his shoulders. He even lets out a sigh and sinks further into the plush cushions. His head leans back against the back of the sofa. He looks up at the pattern of the popcorn ceiling. A relaxed sigh comes from deep in his soul. Then, the lights turn off with a click.
It’s likes she just knows him. The stress just sort of falls away. “We’re caught in a trap...I can’t walk out...” she hums the lyrics of the song, she cups his cheek. She slightly tilts his head up to look up in the eyes. “Because I love you too much baby~” His breathing hitches at the sincerity of her words. His lip quivers and she frowns, her thumbs grazing over his cheeks to wipe away the tears pouring down.
She sits down next to him, he’s quick to hide his face in the crook of her neck, in shame that he’s crying. “That’s okay, Elvis. It’s okay, baby.” She coos, rubbing circles against his back. His large hands grab at her shirt. The material feels so rough and in all reality he wants to feel her bare skin. She coos again, cradling his head in her arms.
“C’mere, baby. C’mere my Satnin.” His head snaps up, his brows pull together. Now you’re panicking. Too far? Did you give yourself away? His large hands wrap completely around your waist. He cuddles his head in the valley of your breast. Holding you like one would a teddy bear. Especially when it’s thundering outside and it’s all you have to keep you safe.
And then...he just sobs.
Your one hand holds his shirt, so tightly your knuckles turn white. The other rakes your nails against his scalp. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “You’re safe, baby. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Cry all you need, booby.” And when she uses that nickname he just cries even harder. How? How does she know? All the sweet names his mama used to call him.
And how does she hold him, like he’s been craving to be held. Grasping onto him, with all her might. As if he might run away any moment. Taking all that he gives to her with gratefulness. God, he missed when people used to be grateful. When people used to ask for him and not just expect all of him all the time. When people were happy with whatever he gave and not expecting for him to die for their entertainment.
“You don’t need all those pills, baby. You don’t any of it. You’re just a darling boy who needs to be held. Ain’t that right, honey?” She coos as he rubs his tears off on her blouse. She doesn’t care. His hands slide under the shirt, gently tugging it off. He places wet open mouth sloppy kisses against her collarbone.
When he’s satisfied with her taste, he rubs his cheek against her neck. Down, down until he rests once again between your breasts. The soft feeling of your skin and the steady beat of your heart rhythm pulls him closer to sleep. He looked about settled, until he huffs, sitting up right again. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, before he shrugs off his silk pajama shirt.
She chuckles when he wraps himself like a vine around her again. “It’s okay, baby. I know you’re tired, sweetheart. So, so tired, hmm? Putting on such a good show, your mama would be so proud. I’m sure of it.” Again, you chose your words so carefully. Between exposing your position and cradling Elvis to sleep.
You cradle his head in your arms. Gently feathering your nails across his bare back. The other tucked under his hair, holding his face so close to her. Like they’re glued together in this skin-to-skin contact. “Sleep my darling Elvis. Your mama and Jesse is watching down. Looking over you. Protecting you. They’re so proud of you, Satnin. You can sleep easy now, it’ll all be okay.”
And you stayed in his arms, even as your arms and legs fell asleep and your back groaned from his weight. You didn’t dare move an inch. Besides the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you tried to keep your breathing steady.
All to keep him sleeping. He needs it so...he needs his rest...
So, here is the sitch. I usually really hate like time travel fics. Because they feel so poorly done and like such an easy cop out to me. But with the 16th recently I just couldn't stop thinking about he just needed to be held:( And then I discovered Elvis ASMR and that like made this thought even worse.
I thought about making a part 2 where it like shows the readers POV of like accidently time traveling and finding him but then I realised like, what's the point?? That doesn't add anything to this narrative. And like the whole chapter would just be the reader scheming to see him?? And like how they feel?? And like, what's the point, you guys already know how you feel??
But, this Elvis ASMR has like a whole bunch of scenarios and I thought about like writing something like this to futher the scenario. All of them usually end up in Elvis sleeping though, so maybe I'd just be more of the same thing? But I think it'd be nice to have something to read while you listen to it?? And I could call it the Sleepy Elvis series...
Okay guys so...my PC broke🫨 it's um, done for. 2008 model so...yeah no there's not saving it... So if the formatting of this is weird, that would be the reason, I'm doing this on my phone.
Pairing: 70s!Elvis Presley x fem!reader
Summary: Elvis accidentally runs into a time traveler and doesn't even know it. All he knows is that she somehow just knows everything about him. Especially how badly he needs a good cuddle
Warnings: Topless reader, topless Elvis. Fluff. Angst (Elvis cries)(his ouchie body🙁) Mommy kink?? Idk this one might be a little weird guys... But he's so bbg really. Submissive Elvis. Coddling Elvis. Mentions if skin-to-skin contact. Mentions of Gladys Presley and how much Elvis missed her :(.
Word count: 2k+ unedited
Dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more
Just another groupie, he would have thought if it wasn’t for the way that he looked at her. Like she sees right through him. As if she knows everything about him. Past, present and future. Across the room, where the people mingle after his show. The VIP’s so excited to have the honour and the money to meet him. All too scared to touch him, for he is the king and they are but onlookers.
Long meaningful strides to the face that calls to him in the crowd. Eyes so warm and so clear of mind. Set on him and him alone. No other thought behind those eyes except the ones reflecting his own blue eyes. The light hits her and makes the frizz of her hair look like a halo and not an imperfection. Is her breathing matching his? He could swear he saw her chest rise and fall in rhythm as he takes a sharp inhale.
His hands fall on her upper arms, just below her shoulder. Wrapping all the way around and holding her like a Christmas present. Careful not to tear at the wrapping, wanting to appreciate the effort that has gone into the sharp folds of the corners and delicate little bow on top. Bound together by tape. Christmas lights, red, then green, then red again shining down on the present, begging to be opened.
“Hi.”
His tone of voice like one he’s known all his life. Like he would greet an old friend, one which you share such a bond with that even after years it’s still the same. The ruffles of her shirt conceal the soft skin that he so desperately wants to feel under his palms. His thumbs moves the finespun sleeve up, Elvis has to hold back a groan when he feels just how silky her pale skin is.
“Hi.”
She replies in the same manner as his. The lights reflect in the wet of her eyes, making it look like diamonds under sunlight. Long lashes blink, to truly take him in. His tan skin, from his Hawaii vacation she knows, his straight nose and soft pillow lips. Just how warm his hands are around her arms. Just how many hours she spent dreaming about this.
“Do I know you?”
A moment where they both seem to take in this bizarre moment. Anon, as if it was meant to be, they both just sort of break out in giggles. His wide smile that she’s seen so many pictures of. And a real laugh that the home tapes haven’t captured exactly. Simply because they can’t copy the echo. Or the way his eyes scrunch up and he leans forward against her. Or this crazy farm feeling that usually gets covered with shame.
But there is no shame now. Because this is real. Can you believe it? He’s actually here, in front of you. Holding you even. For him, it feels even crazier. Who are you? What is happening? Why do you seem to look right into his soul? You two must know each other. She looks so familiar, like those people you meet in your dreams and then suddenly see them walking past you on the street.
“No.” She says in between laughs and again he struggles to believe that. “Come on. I must’ve met you somewhere. Even just, on the road or- I don’t know in a bathroom line.” The girl just shakes her head again. “Do you even use public toilets?” He quickly eats his words. “No, I guess not really.” She can’t help but smile at the foolishness of this all. Of the craziness of this, really.
He slings his arm over her shoulder, like the photos, tucking her into his side. She can hear her heart beating louder than ever before. She’s scared she might even pass out from excitement. He’s so close, she can smell the Brut perfum against his neck, just like Priscilla said. She’s living every girl’s dream right now. Every crazy fangirl’s dream.
“Well then, I think we ought tah get tah know each other then, huh? Honey?” She practiced her soft smile in the mirror and she can only hope that it’s being reflected right now. She just barely moves her head in a nod. “I think so too.” Her eyes drink in every single behind road he takes, in hopes she can follow the path when this is all over.
He shrugs off his jacket, hanging it against the nearest chair’s back. “Darlin’... I jus’ can’t seem to place yer accent. Where did you say you’re from?” She has to make an active effort not to bite her lip, she doesn’t want to be that girl. She shakes her head. “I didn’t.” That crooked smile overcomes him. “Oh, right. Well, please do tell me.”
Crap. Now she has to think incredibly quickly. Her geography isn’t exactly the best and she’s never really cared to put in much interest in the timeline of America. “Up North.” His brows raise, “No spot spicific?” She’s quick to shake her head. “No...we travelled a lot.” His eyes go sympathetic, “Ah get that. Ah haven’t stopped traveling since this whole lot started.” She gets this look in her eyes, like she knows.
No one has ever before reached the level of fame he has. How could she know? How could she so convincingly act like she knows? But it feels so real, so much so that his heart and body feel all warm inside. “Yeah?” She replies, a one common word and yet it feels like it’s the perfect response. Not forcing him to go on, but rather inviting him to. Still, though, not at the same time. Leaving it open for him to decide if he says more or doesn’t.
“Yah mind if I go change into something more comfortable?” She’s quick to shake her head no. “Not at all.” It’s only warm smiles from him and to her and then back again. He seems reluctant to be away from her for even a bit. But when he does eventually pry his eyes from her, he speaks again. “Make yerself comfortable, little one.”
You have to stop yourself from gasping. The nickname reserved for Priscilla. And something you’ve done has made him deem you worthy for it. No one else has taken any notice of you. All brushing you off, that is what you wanted, you will admit. But you bought the VIP ticket with the intention of only catching a glimpse of him. Maybe even if you were somehow possibly lucky enough, a peck. Like he gives the front row girls.
Now, you’re in the famous International Hotel’s very own Elvis Presley’s residence and you’re damn sure you’re going to explode with joy. Or maybe even cry. Or hell, both! You know you shouldn’t snoop, having earned his trust, somehow. But you need to see this all, while you still have the chance. The universe could play some cruel joke and take this away from you any minute now.
Trinkets, of a price you can only imagine, scattered all over the place. A real, now not vintage, plate player. You gasp, quickly searching through the stack for your favourite song. You’re not really entirely sure how it works, you never could afford one of your own. Your fingers stumble, trying to get the needle to pick up the song.
Not that you have to put it on, large hands take the needle from you. Practiced, this is all he’s known, first try gets the needle to take. His voice plays from the record, his brow raises. “Yah like this one, darlin’?” The girl smiles, “I do, it’s my favourite.” He chuckles, “I jus’ sang this on stage, yah wanna listen tah it again?” Her lashes flutter like she can’t believe he’d ask such a question.
“I could listen to you reading the bible and still wouldn’t get bored.” You choose each word so specifically. And you knew he’d grin at that. “Is that so?” The girl smiles, her head tilts to the side. Again she seems to look deep into his soul. Into his true desires for gospel and the Word. Her brows furrow, her eyes get filled with this sort of hurt. She seems to be searching his face, inspecting every bit. He feels insecure, does she notice the way his cheeks are rounder? Or just how much she makes him sweat?
“Sit down, sweetheart.” Her voice takes this nurturing tone that he yearns for since his mama... When she takes his wrist and guides him over to the couch, he doesn’t protest. It’s the way she does it with so much love in each action. Even holding her hand out for him as he sits down, take the pressure off his soar knees.
She bends over, he can’t help but take a peak under her shirt. But his intentions seem so wrong when she places a tender kiss on his forehead. “You’re done performing. It’s just you and me now. I won’t judge, I wouldn’t dare even think of it. You can relax.” She mumbles, then presses another kiss against his forehead.
The girl, who’s name he has yet to ask, takes this huge pressure off his shoulders. He even lets out a sigh and sinks further into the plush cushions. His head leans back against the back of the sofa. He looks up at the pattern of the popcorn ceiling. A relaxed sigh comes from deep in his soul. Then, the lights turn off with a click.
It’s likes she just knows him. The stress just sort of falls away. “We’re caught in a trap...I can’t walk out...” she hums the lyrics of the song, she cups his cheek. She slightly tilts his head up to look up in the eyes. “Because I love you too much baby~” His breathing hitches at the sincerity of her words. His lip quivers and she frowns, her thumbs grazing over his cheeks to wipe away the tears pouring down.
She sits down next to him, he’s quick to hide his face in the crook of her neck, in shame that he’s crying. “That’s okay, Elvis. It’s okay, baby.” She coos, rubbing circles against his back. His large hands grab at her shirt. The material feels so rough and in all reality he wants to feel her bare skin. She coos again, cradling his head in her arms.
“C’mere, baby. C’mere my Satnin.” His head snaps up, his brows pull together. Now you’re panicking. Too far? Did you give yourself away? His large hands wrap completely around your waist. He cuddles his head in the valley of your breast. Holding you like one would a teddy bear. Especially when it’s thundering outside and it’s all you have to keep you safe.
And then...he just sobs.
Your one hand holds his shirt, so tightly your knuckles turn white. The other rakes your nails against his scalp. Whispering sweet nothings in his ear. “You’re safe, baby. Nobody’s gonna hurt you, sweetheart. Cry all you need, booby.” And when she uses that nickname he just cries even harder. How? How does she know? All the sweet names his mama used to call him.
And how does she hold him, like he’s been craving to be held. Grasping onto him, with all her might. As if he might run away any moment. Taking all that he gives to her with gratefulness. God, he missed when people used to be grateful. When people used to ask for him and not just expect all of him all the time. When people were happy with whatever he gave and not expecting for him to die for their entertainment.
“You don’t need all those pills, baby. You don’t any of it. You’re just a darling boy who needs to be held. Ain’t that right, honey?” She coos as he rubs his tears off on her blouse. She doesn’t care. His hands slide under the shirt, gently tugging it off. He places wet open mouth sloppy kisses against her collarbone.
When he’s satisfied with her taste, he rubs his cheek against her neck. Down, down until he rests once again between your breasts. The soft feeling of your skin and the steady beat of your heart rhythm pulls him closer to sleep. He looked about settled, until he huffs, sitting up right again. She’s about to ask what’s wrong, before he shrugs off his silk pajama shirt.
She chuckles when he wraps himself like a vine around her again. “It’s okay, baby. I know you’re tired, sweetheart. So, so tired, hmm? Putting on such a good show, your mama would be so proud. I’m sure of it.” Again, you chose your words so carefully. Between exposing your position and cradling Elvis to sleep.
You cradle his head in your arms. Gently feathering your nails across his bare back. The other tucked under his hair, holding his face so close to her. Like they’re glued together in this skin-to-skin contact. “Sleep my darling Elvis. Your mama and Jesse is watching down. Looking over you. Protecting you. They’re so proud of you, Satnin. You can sleep easy now, it’ll all be okay.”
And you stayed in his arms, even as your arms and legs fell asleep and your back groaned from his weight. You didn’t dare move an inch. Besides the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you tried to keep your breathing steady.
All to keep him sleeping. He needs it so...he needs his rest...
So, here is the sitch. I usually really hate like time travel fics. Because they feel so poorly done and like such an easy cop out to me. But with the 16th recently I just couldn't stop thinking about he just needed to be held:( And then I discovered Elvis ASMR and that like made this thought even worse.
I thought about making a part 2 where it like shows the readers POV of like accidently time traveling and finding him but then I realised like, what's the point?? That doesn't add anything to this narrative. And like the whole chapter would just be the reader scheming to see him?? And like how they feel?? And like, what's the point, you guys already know how you feel??
But, this Elvis ASMR has like a whole bunch of scenarios and I thought about like writing something like this to futher the scenario. All of them usually end up in Elvis sleeping though, so maybe I'd just be more of the same thing? But I think it'd be nice to have something to read while you listen to it?? And I could call it the Sleepy Elvis series...
