iām sorry that it takes me so long to get around to requests!! i donāt have much time to spare for writing, and i donāt want to rush anything bcs you guys literally deserve the best so thank you for being so patient with me! it means the world ššš
iām not an experienced writer, but i love stories and being creative! iām gonna try to write as well as i can and hopefully some people will like it (Ė¶įµ įµ įµĖ¶)
iām so grateful of everyone who has come to support me so quickly after starting this blog and iāll do my best to write for you sweethearts!
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- requests are currently closed! i have a lot of requests to get around to first and it will take me a while!!
- my writing usually will include things such as: swearing, blood, bullets/guns, violence, etc. if you have any concerns or questions i can answer them in the ask box!
- iām only writing for elias, he's my number one and the only character which i could write accurately (which is rlly important to me)
- however i will write for isaac if its requested and maybe even asirel?
- the reader is always gender neutral unless stated otherwise!
- will take any feedback! how else am i gonna improve :)
disclaimer: none of these works are mine. all credit goes to the original author @/yoursinisforgiven (also known as may/mae). unfortunately, after their deactivation, many of their works were lost, so this is just a small archive for myself and anyone else who misses them (grieving her absence like sheās my dead wife š) iām not trying to impersonate or claim anything as my own.
if u have any works that arenāt included here, please dm me or comment the link so i can add them, there are many many manyyyy that are missing
(my personal favorites are bolded)
isaac
minx (ft. vic, suggestive)
birdcage (ft. this fic, angst)
passion (nsfw)
college era!isaac x college professor!reader
1. (angst/fluff)
2. (nsfw, angst/fluff)
if u love me right, than who knows (ft. sabrina carpenter series, u and the character do a position from sabrinaās short nā sweet tour, nsfw)
linger (fluff)
good graces (fluff/none)
heavenly (ft. this fic, nsfw/brief angst)
dad!isaac x mom!reader
1. (nsfw)
2. (tooth rotting fluff)
when u go down under, do u miss me? (nsfw)
unseen (this is a series, cant find the other part tho. mystery/angst)
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vicĀ
vic x banshee!reader
1. (ft. asirel & pet, angst/none?)
2. (dark content/suggestive kinda, their freaked clean the fuck out)
guns and roses (none/fluff/brief angst)
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asirelĀ
envy (ft. this fic, nsfw)
euphoric (nsfw)
ephemeral (angst)
opia (angst/dark content)
to the bone (angst/dark content)
echos (brief angst/mystery/fluff?)
i wanna drink ur words like wine (suggestive/breif angst)
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ivanĀ
purity (suggestive/angst)
belonging (brief angst/brief fluff)
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eliasĀ
its getting stickyyy (ft. spiderman!au, suggestive/crack/very brief angst)
Hello, tumblr is getting banned in my country. As of now, I can still access it but idk for how long. Honestly love this community and loved creating for it, it's so sad to see things this way. I will try to find a way, I'll ask if there's any possible ways to access tumblr again. I still have so many drafts and writings, especially with Zaros and Xanthus.
If you guys wanna connect I have a discord: belladonnadawn.
I do believe this account will live, I just won't have an access to it. I hope they lift the ban!
Got bored asf so I decided to draw Elias again. I wanted to draw him with my Barista but then I realized that 1) Itās been almost TWO whole YEARS since Iāve drawn him with my barista and 2) I never really had an actual design for herāor a name, for that matter.
So everyoneāsay hi to Elianaāthe gorgeous barista that Elias has been feeling for a while. And if you ever seen that MF getting manipulated by a 5 ft 4 black woman with long ass braidsāLEAVE HIM ALONE, YAāLL! Heās right where he needs to be!!
This pic was based off coupleās photoshoots made in the 90ās. I honestly might make this shit a series, tbh. This was fun as hell to do.
Elias and Eliana. Got a helluva good ring to it if I do say so myself.
I need an audio with a human character and a mythic reader. OR A SECRET MYTHIC READER and even the audience doesn't know and has to piece it together with the character
farmer's boy!elias has taken up permanent residence in my brain.
i fear heās plowing more than just fields.
warnings ; brief but detailed nsfw towards the end, faint mention of smoking, mention of death, reader's family is implied to own an apple orchard and a bakery, potentially inaccurate details considering it's an au.
farmerās boy!elias who moved inland with his father after taraās passing, the both of them carrying grief like it was packed in burlap sacksāheavy, scratchy, impossible to set down. tara liked califonia. she built her name there, her little slice of royalty but late at night, when she'd wonder if she'd wake up next morning without a muzzle pressed to her forehead, she''d stare up at the ceiling too long and whisper about the future. about raisingĀ caddel, about open fields and the kind of quiet that doesnāt hurt your ears. she never made it there.
elias did.
he didnāt understand it then, but he does now.
farmerās boy!elias who had a hard time adjusting at firstāthe heat pressed on him like a punishment, the chickens screamed from dawn ātil dusk, and the land didnāt feel like it wanted him. the land was too quiet, too still. he didnāt know what to do with silence that didnāt hum with waves.
farmerās boy!elias who likes how the stars look impossibly clearer compared to the city
farmerās boy!elias, who smells like sun-warmed hay and engine oil, the kind that clings to his shirt long after the dayās work is done.
farmhand!reader who, quite frankly, couldnāt stand him, not one bit. he was chaos wrapped in a flannel shirt, mud on his boots, dark curls damp with sweat, and that goddamn grin that made everything feel like a dare. youād catch him stealing apples from the basket meant for the truck, biting into them like he owned the world. juice running down his chin, dripping onto his neck, sliding over his adamās appleāhis throat moving as he swalowed, slow and deliberateāand youād hate how you noticed. How your scolding voice would catch halfway through the word āeliasā because it sounded too soft in your mouth.
farmerās boy!elias whoās too touchy for his own good, always brushing past you with his hands lingering a second too long. a hand at your waist when heās guiding you through the barn, a shoulder bump when heās teasing you for missing a nail on the ground. he laughs with his whole body, head thrown back, and you want to hate him for itāwant toābut itās hard when his laughter makes the world feel a little less heavy.
farmhand!reader who notices the scar aligned on his abdomen the first time he takes you to a lake to go swimming. despite your hesitances, you ask about it. he shrugs, shakes his head and says it's nothing.
you don't believe him.
farmerās boy!elias who offers to teach you to drive one lazy afternoon when the sunās melting over the hills and the air smells like rain that never comes.
āi can drive,ā you say, indignant.
ānot well,ā he snickers, leaning against the hood of the truck with that same infuriating smirk.
and you tell him to shove it, but you still slide into the driverās seat. his hand still finds its way over yours when you reach for the gearshift, and the heat of his palm burns through the fabric of your jeans like something dangerous.
farmhand!reader who learns to stop flinching when he gets close, who starts to crave the sound of his boots on the porch steps, who watches him from the window when heās fixing the fence and pretends itās nothing.
farmerās boy!elias who never learned how to stay quiet, who fills every silence with laughter, or stories, or the sound of your name, rolling it in his mouth like something sweet.
and maybe one night, when the stars are loud and the cicadas wonāt stop singing, he kisses you.
and itās messy, and itās hot, and it tastes like apples.
farmerās boy!elias whoās all too quick to attempt to sneak you into his room, fumbling the latch on the screen door with one hand and tugging you behind him with the other, lips bitten red from grinning like a boy who knows better but does it anywayāhe thinks heās being smooth, whispering ācāmon, no oneās up this early,ā even though youāre both tracking mud on the porch and your heartbeat is loud enough to wake the whole house, despite it really only being his father and the blind pitbull who resides there.
farmerās boy!elias who tragically fails, of course he does, because his father hears the clumsy hush of your steps on the wood floor, hears your breath catch and the way elias half-shoves you toward the stairs, and suddenly that rough voice calls out from the kitchen:
āelias. that you?ā
and your spine goes cold, like always, like it did when you were little and your ma told you to run the thank-you basket up to the 'new family who moved to town' and you stood at the edge of the porch too long, clutching the apples and trying to work up the nerve to knock. always afraid heād answer the door and not elias, but himābroad-shouldered and sun-leathered, voice like a storm that didnāt break.
farmerās boy!elias who doesnāt miss the way you freeze, the way your hand clenches in the fabric of his shirt and your eyes flick toward the sound like a rabbit about to boltā
and heās already changing plans, all too quick, muttering āshitāokay, okay, come on,ā under his breath, the heat in his voice curling into something darker, more urgent, grabbing your hand and tugging you out the way you came, sneakers skidding in the wet dirt as he yanks you behind the barn, your breath catching in your throat like a secret you shouldnātāve let out.
farmerās boy!elias dragging you behind the barn like itās the only place on earth thatāll let him breathe. like he needs the rough wood at your back and the worn denim of his jeans pressed up against you just to stay grounded.
farmerās boy!elias whoās panting already, burying his face in the curve of your neck as his arms wrap around your mid section and his hips move on instinctāslow, searching, needyālike heās not even thinking anymore, just feeling, chasing whatever little bit of you he can have. like the ache in him is too much to hold, like itās already spilling over no matter how hard he tries to keep it together.
farmer's boy!elias who starts to move harsher against you without even thinking, hips grinding in slow, desperate rolls, the ache in his jeans so sharp it borders on painful, like every bit of him is burning up from the inside out-his hands locked tight on your waist, jaw clenched, lashs fluttering as he twists his eyes shut like the sight of you might tip him over the edge too fast. a sound that could be mistaken for your name getting caught in his throat as he feels the precum beginning to dampen his boxers.
farmer's boy!elias who wants to see you, god, he wants to see you-wants to look at your lips when you call his name, wants to memorize the way your face scrunches when you try not to moan, but it's all too much right nowāhe's so needy, it's embarrassing, you can feel how hard he is through his jeans and it's making your head spin.
you open your mouth to tease him, something about how he's acting like a boy who's never done this before, about how maybe he isābut all that comes out is a breathy, choked-off sound that barely passes for a word, and that only makes things worse, because now he's groaning against your skin like he's unraveling.
farmer's boy!elias who leans in close, breath hitching, who buries his face against the curve of your neck and bites-not too hard, but firm enough to make you gasp-his teeth just barely grazing, lips parted, like he's trying to taste the heat off your skin, like if he breathes you in deep enough he can ground himself.
farmer's boy!elias who makes this soft, broken sound against your neckālike he hates how good this feels, like it scares him-and his hands slide down to the backs of your thighs like instinct, gripping tight, like he doesn't even know what to do with himself anymore.
farmhand!reader who's so used to being composed around him, so careful, so quietā especially under his father's roof-but now you're flush against the barn wall, gasping through your teeth, fingers curled into his shirt like you might fall without him.
warnings ; detailed nsfw, reader has female anatomy.
thinking about isaac's fingers. how easily they know you. how he doesn't hesitate-doesn't fumble or flinch or overthink. no, he just presses in, like he was made to. like he's done this before in a dream he never woke up from. they curl into you like instinct, like muscle memory, and god it's so natural it's almost unnerving. like your body just waited for him.
and you both gasp once his fingers are wedged inside.
not in unison, not really, but close enough that it feels like you're tethered by something bigger. he draws in sharp through his teeth, jaw locked, eyes flickering down to watch the way you arch, the way your mouth falls open and your thighs shake a little. and you feel full, but it's more than that. it's the way he looks at you when he's inside, the way he bites his lip like he's trying to hold something back (he never can).
he's obsessed with the way you react. eyes tracing every twitch, every quiet moan that slips out before you can even stop it. isaac's the type to watch the whole time-mouth parted, gaze heavy, like he's trying to memorize every second. like he thinks he won't be allowed this again.Ā
he's surprisingly slow with you, though. careful, reverent in a way he doesn't let many people see. like this is sacred. you're sacred. and his fingers-long, knuckled, a little rough, worshipful. they ask and take and give all at once. his thumb brushes over your clit almost accidentally and your hips buck and he smiles. smug. boyish. like he didn't mean to, but now he's gonna do it again.
he mutters things too-barely there, but you catch them
"fuck, you feel good..."
"so fuckin' warm..."
"look at you. look at you, baby..."
he calls you baby a lot when he's like this. usually with a laugh under his breath, like he doesn't wanna admit how soft it makes him. like he doesn't want you to know how serious it is. how deep it goes. but it is serious. it's always been serious with you.
sometimes he kisses you when he's got his fingers buried in you slow and deep and a little messy, like he can't decide what he wants more, your mouth or your moans. and it devours you.
and when you cum, it's like he feels it too. that's the part that wrecks him. like his whole body flinches with it, and his forehead drops to your shoulder and he just breathes you in, clutches you like you might disappear.
I find it so insulting that James keeps blaming Eliasās listener (not sure of the name) for the situation they are in. Like bro your organization is the one who made that cafe your āneutralā space. They probably lost a lot of friends to that explosion and are now traumatized stuck in a safe house with only one person to trust and now you are threatening them and blaming them for a problem that is your fault!
