#PLEASE let him be a wicked powerful enchanter

[walkingbomb]

"When he rises, everyone will see"

he wasn't talking about Corypheus he was talking aboUT SOLAS

"every one will be just like they were"

dwarves with magic!! immortal elves!!!

[80ssuperstar]

Hey Guys I made this Story that's based on The Ancient Indian Tale of Prince Rama and Princess Sita and the Ten Headed Demon Ravanna but I made it different with the Characters like: Prince Mordecai and Princess Samantha, Ravanna, Hanuman, Bharata, Indrajit, Manthara, Surpanakha, Queen Kaikeyi (Prince Mordecai's Jealous Stepmother)

THE STORY OF MORDECAI AND SAMANTHA:

Once upon a time, in the magnificent kingdom of Ayodhya, there lived a noble prince named Mordecai, beloved by all for his wisdom, courage, and kindness. He was the heir to the throne, destined to rule alongside his beloved wife, Princess Samantha, a woman of unparalleled beauty, grace, and compassion. Their love was the envy of all who beheld it, and their kingdom flourished under their benevolent rule.

However, their happiness was not to last, for lurking in the shadows was the wicked ten-headed demon, Ravanna, whose heart burned with jealousy and malice. Ravanna coveted Princess Samantha for himself, and he plotted to separate her from Prince Mordecai and claim her as his own.

Mordecai: "My dear Samantha, our love is like the eternal flame, burning bright amidst the darkness. Fear not, for I shall always protect you, my beloved."

Samantha: "Oh Mordecai, my heart sings with joy at your words. Together, we shall overcome any obstacle that dares to challenge our love."

One fateful day, as Prince Mordecai and Princess Samantha were taking a leisurely stroll through the enchanted forest that surrounded their kingdom, they came across a wounded deer lying in agony. Princess Samantha's compassionate heart was moved with pity, and she beseeched Prince Mordecai to help the poor creature.

Samantha: "Mordecai, look! A wounded deer lies in distress. Please, we must help it."

Mordecai: "Fear not, my dear Samantha. I shall use my magic to create a protective circle around you. As long as you stay within its bounds, no harm shall befall you."

That night, as Princess Samantha rested within the safety of the magic circle, she heard a terrible cry echoing through the forest. Believing it to be her beloved Mordecai in grave danger, she rushed to his aid, unaware of the treacherous trap that awaited her.

Samantha: "Mordecai! I hear cries of distress! I must go to him at once!"

Mordecai: "No, Samantha! Stay within the circle! It is not safe!"

But it was too late. Ravanna, with his dark magic and deceitful wiles, had disguised himself as Prince Mordecai and lured Princess Samantha out of the protective circle. Seizing her in his powerful grasp, Ravanna vanished into the depths of the forest, leaving behind naught but despair and heartache.

Ravanna: "Foolish princess, to trust in the illusion of safety. Now you are mine, and no one shall stand in my way."

Prince Mordecai, upon discovering his beloved Samantha missing, was consumed with grief and fury. Determined to rescue her from the clutches of the vile Ravanna, he embarked on a perilous journey, aided by his loyal companions, including the mighty monkey warrior Hanuman, the valiant prince Bharata, and the wise sage Vishwamitra.

Hanuman: "Fear not, Prince Mordecai, for I shall lend you my strength and my cunning. Together, we shall vanquish the foul demon Ravanna and rescue Princess Samantha from his grasp."

Bharata: "My lord, I pledge my sword and my loyalty to your cause. Let us march forth and bring justice to the wicked."

Vishwamitra: "Prince Mordecai, the path ahead is fraught with danger, but with courage and determination, you shall prevail. Trust in your heart, and victory shall be yours."

And so, Prince Mordecai and his companions embarked on a perilous quest, braving treacherous jungles, raging rivers, and dark caverns in their relentless pursuit of Ravanna and his captive, Princess Samantha.

Along the way, they encountered many trials and tribulations, including battles with Ravanna's fearsome minions, such as his son Indrajit, the demoness Surpanakha, and the wicked maid Manthara, who sought to thwart their noble quest at every turn.

Indrajit: "You dare to oppose my father, Ravanna? Prepare to face the wrath of Indrajit, the mighty warrior prince!"

Surpanakha: "Ah, Prince Mordecai, how handsome you are! Why waste your time on that insignificant princess when you could have a powerful demoness like me at your side?"

Manthara: "Princess Samantha is a threat to my mistress's ambitions. I shall do everything in my power to ensure that she remains in Ravanna's clutches forever."

But through courage, perseverance, and the power of their unwavering love, Prince Mordecai and his companions overcame every obstacle that stood in their way, drawing ever closer to their ultimate goal of rescuing Princess Samantha from the clutches of Ravanna.

At long last, after a fierce and epic battle that shook the very foundations of the earth, Prince Mordecai confronted Ravanna in his fortress atop the towering mountain of Lanka, where Princess Samantha was held captive.

Mordecai: "Ravanna, your reign of terror ends here and now! Release Princess Samantha, or face the wrath of a righteous prince!"

Ravanna: "Foolish mortal, you dare to challenge me? I am Ravanna, the Lord of Lanka, the most powerful demon in all the realms! You are no match for my might!"

But Prince Mordecai, fueled by his love for Princess Samantha and the strength of his noble heart, fought with a courage and determination that knew no bounds. With the aid of his allies and the blessings of the gods themselves, he clashed with Ravanna in a battle that shook the heavens and the earth.

In the end, it was not the strength of arms or the power of magic that determined the outcome, but the purity of Prince Mordecai's love and the righteousness of his cause. With a final, mighty blow, he vanquished Ravanna and rescued Princess Samantha from the darkness that had ensnared her.

Mordecai: "Samantha, my beloved! Are you hurt? Fear not, for you are safe now, and I shall never let harm befall you again."

Samantha: "Mordecai, my hero! Oh, how I have longed for this moment! With you by my side, I fear nothing, for our love is stronger than any magic or malice in the world."

And so, Prince Mordecai and Princess Samantha returned triumphantly to their kingdom of Ayodhya, where they were greeted with jubilation and celebration by their grateful subjects. Their love had been tested and proven true, and together, they ruled wisely and justly for many years to come, a shining beacon of hope and inspiration to all who beheld them.

THE END!!

I Hope you guys liked it 😊🥰

For: @fxe4596 , @nicomxm23 , @mordorigs , @jgquintelslut , @pinkcandycatmakesart , @anifaz , @isrrael120 , @notadumbdog , @martingeekermmd , @eeveepalooza , @apollothedeity, @sidoresca, @siinhorhy, @insomniacz, @rhyliethecaterfly , @yeetafry, @at-weeb96, @kiwithekool11437, @kiko2032, @orchestralauthor, @untitled14360, @loudlyhappycupcake

[moronkombat]

Hi hi hello how my new favorite person on Tumblr doing? 🌝

May I ask for some fluff/nsfw alphabet for Shang Tsung, please👉👈

Absolutely love all your content <3

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Aftercare may look a bit different than the conventional cradling embraces. Shang Tsung is more partial to observing the masterpiece he has created within you. He stands over you, that wry smirk seems so carved into him, and eyes scan over the mess you have become. He tells you this too, how beautiful you look and what a piece of art you are

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Shang Tsung's favorite feature is that witty smirk of his. He never wants to hide it and shows it off when certain little plans end in his favor. He wants others to know that he has won. Victories are his confidence and so he boasts them through taunting jeers

When it comes to his partner, Shang Tsung is enamored with their back, specifically the spine. How horribly divine it is to feel its ridges under the pad of a finger. Your grooves dip and bend as he traces them into your skin. It is an enchanting dream for him

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Truly depends on the mood and what he is wanting. However, he does have the rather wicked preference on cumming atop his partner's skin. So sticky and wet you look coated in liquified pearls. He smirks and spreads it around your naval, into your cheeks and chest. Such a pretty portrait you are

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Shang Tsung pleasures himself while watching his partner sleep. There is something just so exciting watching you unaware of his perversions. Never once does he touch you during this, simply observing you breath so lightly and unaware. He often finishes into his hand, watching his seed drip down the length of his fingers before he just so happens to let it drip drip drop onto your skin

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He never truly lets his partner know the level of experience possessed. Shang Tsung prefers to keep it vague and guessing. In truth he has experience but not too much to flaunt. He has enjoyed sex enough to learn what he prefers but also what another likes too

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Shang Tsung has a few preferences. Mainly he prefers his partner on top regularly or reverse and when you are on your side one leg hiked into the air. Likes to change positions frequently during sex with his partner

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

I wouldn't call sex serious when with Shang Tsung but it is not humorous either. It is more of a teasing experience with him laying languid taunts to his parent and laughing at their reactions to his touch

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Exceptionally groomed and completely shaven. He finds it bothersome not to keep himself clean there and so he always makes it a point to remove any hair hidden under clothing

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Largely depends on the mood of moment. Shang Tsung largely prefers teasing experiences but let's say he is truly madly deeply in love with his partner, then he will make it romantic. If he is more obsessed with his partner the romance is a bit more warped and twisted

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Yes but infrequently. When he is feeling the urge, Shang Tsung merely seeks his parent out to sate his needs. If his partner is unavailable then he may engage but it is not very often. He typically has his ways of convincing his lover into the bedroom

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Restraints- Cannot get enough of using restraints during sex. Loves to tie his partner up in all the different ways he can. There is power and control when he pulls those bindings so tight. There is so escape unless he grants it and that is quite the treat

Leather- Shang Tsung adores leather and wants to use it on his partner and himself. He is very fond of the feeling of leather on his skin and he is even more entranced by the marks it leaves on yours

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

On a desk or another hard surface. He likes to indulge in his partner when he works on his research. It makes him feel even more powerful knowing he takes you in the same place he dominates the field of research. He also likes when his partner is suspended in the air with ropes and chains

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Shang Tsung is turned on by many things but he is most aroused by his partner's curves and hips. He wants to watch those hips sway and move. Predatory eyes watch you go and his head will turn to enjoy the show while you pass by. This hunter is quick to stalk his prey before he pounces and consumes

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

A big no for him is his partner hitting him in the bedroom. Shang Tsung has taken beatings throughout his life and to be struck brings up those memories and has him feeling rather pitiful

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Has no real preference over one or the other. Both give him a sense of power and control so it largely depends on how he feels like expressing that control and what will amuse him the most

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex can vary from very fast and rough to very slow and taunting. Shang Tsung prefers to take his time with his partner. He wants them thoroughly used and satisfied. If you're going into the bedroom with him, expect to be there for awhile and to say your prayers because Shang Tsung loves to tease

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Doesn't mind them and will engage in them at times. However, like stated previously, he enjoys taking his time with his partner and a quickie does not allow for that

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He is anything but vanilla. He is always wanting to experiment with his partner. New positions, new kinks? He's up for them. He enjoys knowledge and knowledge includes bedroom practices. He's more than eager to try out all his finding on his partner. He makes sure they both have a grand time

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Shang Tsung doesn't have a time limit and will go until he and his partner are sated. While he may not be the most athletically built, his endurance is not something to be trifled with

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Shang Tsung owns a variety of toys but he does not use them on himself. They are rather exclusively for his partner and euphorically taunting you with them. He has quite the collection and is very keen on using them all on your body

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Tends to be terribly unfair during sex. He finds the whines and cries of his partner so very pleasant and so he will be sure to tease them relentless. It does not last forever, he still wants his partner to experience the greatness he is feeling. Still, his partner's reactions under his control provides no greater high

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Relatively quiet save for dirty whispers and chuckling. It is not often that he vocalizes his own pleasure. He would much rather hear yours

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

An avid fan of dirty talk and degradation. He will call you pathetic when you whine. But it is not an insult. Shang Tsung poses them as compliments

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

His build is lean and toned. Muscles are not chiseled but they are defined if you were to feel them. He is more of a grower than a shower, with him presenting rather long when in the heat of the moment

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Higher than average when in a relationship with a partner. When single, it is rather low as he does not pay attention to those urges. When with a partner, however, he craves them carnally daily

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Is usually pretty tired after sex but will never fall asleep before his partner no matter how exhausted he is. He will wait until you do first and then follow

[doodle-pops]

Dusk Till Dawn

Turgon x reader

Kinktober 2023: Squirting

A/N: My first time writing a single piece for Turgon and I enjoyed every second of it :)

Warnings: fem!reader, squirting, a slight overstimulation, Turgon being a tease and letting loose, dom!Turgon, a bit of power play, marathon sex

Words: 3.3k

Synopsis: Your King learns of your unique ability and makes use of it to pleasure himself all night.

List of Requests

“What’s the matter? Tired already?” His voice sounded mocking, and the uncommon nature of the King, as he stood at the end of the bed with an unphased and energetic expression.

How had you been going at it? Minutes that turned into hours that stretched into an eternity. You’d been tossed about the bed into complex positions to suit your King’s insatiable pleasure, a desire he kept sedated and suppressed out of fear and disgust. Now, he towered like an eternal being, body fit and filled with vigour for days to satisfy his hunger. The wickedly sinful lopsided smirk he gazed upon you with as his right hand roamed his body, slipping lower to grip his erect cock, stirred your rearranged insides. You could feel the tingling sensation building; your legs reacted, shutting themselves. His eyes didn’t miss the gesture, knowing it was the result of his undeniable wicked charm.

Panting the more you gazed upon his body, ripples of muscles just waiting to crush you under its weight, flexed and shifted for you to admire. Your eyes roamed from his pensive stare to his pectorals to his abdomen, all the way past his cock to his thighs. Those were the same muscles you adored whenever he trained in the early morning, now mocking you in delight of wanting more. It felt great to be pressed into the mattress by the giant stoic King; had you known there was the possibility he contained a loose bone, matters would have been enacted earlier instead of the tumultuous situation.

“My King…forgive me, but I was merely astonished by your raw power and strength. I require a moment to breathe,” you laboured, chest rapidly embarking on a journey to recover your momentum.

Instead of feeling sympathy on behalf of your problem, Turgon breathlessly grinned and hung his head to snicker. He warned you that this could possibly end wrong given his current disposition of not being enticed in years, and you informed him of your manageable abilities. Yet here you were, begging for resuscitation. Taking a step closer, knee touching the bedframe, his hand reached out to grip your thighs and pull you down. His body easily coveted your tiny figure with the devilish gleam in his eyes; who was this person? “Your expressions humour me milady. You would never expect a reserved person like me to have a display and appetite like this.”

Closing the gap by pressing his body against yours, his hands reached for you and intertwined them above your head. Without hesitation, his lips crashed against yours for another mouthful of air, swarming butterflies in your core. Your whines and moans were devoured effortlessly by his tongue the deeper he pressed on while your arousal slowly flowed out your cunt, adding to the stains already left on his cock. The friction from his erection rubbing against your fold accompanied by the waltz of your tongues left you shivering and covered in goosebumps. Each swirl of his tongue in your cavern left you panting and grinding into him aggressively.

Your legs, despite their soreness, wrapped around his slender waist and hooked their ankles to lock him in place. What an unorthodox contradiction you were exhibiting—it showed how much you craved him despite your mind pushing against the lethargy. Your body was your greatest traitor, and it did not please your mind knowing that Turgon manipulated its desires into feeding his salacious prowess appetite. His laughter echoed through the kiss and settled in the depths of your mind, melting the very fibre of your dignity and casting an enchantment. His sorcery was unmatched the more his tongue wrapped around yours and pulled sighs and indescribable moans out of your throat.

The yearning sensation grew when his grip around your wrist tightened and pressed greatly into the mattress. Now you understood what a warrior's grip felt like and meant. The deadliness and precision of his hands as they held you secure and firmly left you enjoying the pleasures of his hands. He was eating your lips and his body moved in great seduction. Grinding and gyrating against you in a mating ritual dance to hypnotize your body, soul and mind; to give your all and allow him to have his way.

Growing breathless as your kiss escalated, he broke it to stare with hazy turquoise eyes and reddened lips. “You told me you wanted this from the very start; can you handle the rest?” he whispered sincerely as he bit his lip.

Finding it impossible to reply as his hips slowly ground his cock through your folds, you choked on air, basking in the pulsation that developed from the motion. The little heartbeat in your cunt produced an alluring rhythm, preventing his erection from slowing its pacing, urging it to continue. Turgon was conscious of his actions, he bathed in your pheromones and body’s desire to satisfy the depraved beast. It was years since he had the bliss of indulging in pleasure in the highest form, and when you offered yourself to him so sweetly like a sacrifice, how could he refuse.

Releasing his left hand from your wrist, his fingers ghosted over your sweaty skin—dancing and adding to the sensations—to grip his cock and align it with your entrance. No time was wasted after seeing your response; Turgon slipped in to relish in the temporary absence of your warmth. His body crumbled momentarily, dropping more weight and immobilising you completely. The shudders of his pleasure rippled violently throughout his body, heightening all your senses and pushing you to the edge.

The very weight of his cock resettled within your heat, surrounded by the warmth and softness of your gummy walls pulsating and massaging his cock had his hips gyrating against yours. It had only been six minutes since he had returned to your heavenly temple, and it felt like a lifetime; your walls contracted to adjust to the sheer thickness he was endowed and Turgon swore to the heavens that it felt like the first entry. “It doesn’t matter how many times I have you tonight; you’ll always squeeze me so tightly,” his voice was raspy and stuffy as he struggled to focus.

The weight of him once more filled you to the brim; you should know that a King as regal and elegant as him would no doubt carry proportions to display his sophistication. Where he lacked in grith, he fulfilled in length and weight, and that one single vein that ran alongside his length. A hollow groan escaped his throat as your warmth enveloped him like a cocoon, swaddling him in a blanket.

Look up, your vision was blurred by the dark locks of his head buried in the crook of your neck. The warmth of his breath as he panted and slowly made the first move to pull out, produced ripples of goosebumps across your body. Your free hand shot out to dig its nails into his back while your body arched into his. The delicious friction of your nipples gliding across his sweaty chest, and the grip his hands fought to hold on your thigh sent shivers down your spine. Turgon had no time to build any momentum and went straight for his target, to get you incapacitated before the night was over.

Straightening his posture and rising from your body, you had a curt moment to breathe before your body was being manhandled and dragged further down the bed to meet the edge. Tossing your legs haphazardly over his shoulder, one hand rested on your thigh while the other released your hand and rubbed at your clit effortlessly. The slick sounds of sweaty skin slapping against each other reverberated off the walls of his royal chamber alongside his grunts and groans. You watched as he majestically stretched his neck backwards to present his elongated, swan-like throat to moan. The way his dark strands fell over his shoulders and cascaded down his back was meticulously thought out; he knew what he was doing with every action of his, and it was astonishing to see him so relaxed.

Struggling to keep up and fighting to swallow the whiny moaned as his hips continued to drive his cock deeper, your hands came down to grip his wrist for stability. You could feel the pressure easily building as his thrusts grew with expertise and sin. Toes curling and eyes rolling, Turgon had you in an ensnared and eating out of the palms of his hands. The way his thumb would thoroughly rub circles on your clit, meeting the rolls of his hips that caused his tip to forever brush against your sweet spot; you were close to paradise.

“I can feel something coming love. Are you giving it to me like you promised?” he asked, lips running across your chest before latching to your left nipple.

Nodding and whining some incomprehensible response because the pressure was building at insurmountable heights, your grips around his wrists tightened synchronically with your walls. The loud hiss escaping his lips as he felt your gummy walls clamping down on his cock forced his hips to stutter before regaining their momentum. He laughed into your skin and continued to suckle your breast, switching from left to right.

“T–Turukáno… Please, My King—oh Eru!” you wailed into the air, eyes shut and body convulsing as the pressure snapped. You released; you came.

Sensing the insurmountable build-up of pressure pushing against his cock and movements, he slowed his thrusts and was met with the surprise of a lifetime. Caught in between watching you spasm and enjoying the liquid expelling from your cunt, Turgon pulled away from your breast to cast sparkled turquoise eyes at your orgasm. He didn’t stop, only slowing down to ease your sensitivity and observed the volume being expelled, a dazzling smile struck him. With a bite to his bottom lip followed by a lick, his thumb returned to your clit without hesitation and regained a languorous rhythm.

Turning his thrusts at snail’s pace at first, he arched over your body and hovered his lips above yours. “My, my, my. Is this why you didn’t want to continue in the first place darling?” his whisper was enchanting, prompting you to peek at him through slithered lids. Your chest heaved laboriously as you fought to catch your breath and maintain a focused gaze on him. The urge to roll your eyes again was beckoning from his torturous actions was dire.

Not a soul would suspect their King having qualities to classify him as villainous, but physical intimacies always brought out another side to people. As timid and skittish as he appeared, the key factor was the blood of Finwe coursing through his veins. The hunger and passion to perform like his life was dependent on it was crucial. “N–Not at all my King, never!” Your voice was faint and softer with a soreness lingering; courtesy of all the screaming he had you performing earlier.

“Really? Then you will oblige should I desire another, and another, and more…” He brushed yours before he took your bottom lips into his mouth and nibbled on it. The serenity of the lustful aura he released had a chokehold placed on your fuzzy brain; you couldn’t tell up from down, left from right. If your King said to be his mistress, wife or anything else, you’d happily oblige without insurgency.

Small trickles of your release flowed out and soaked his entire length as its pace picked up. Your legs dangled over his shoulder and your body perfectly pressed you into the mattress. All the rings of cream you left on him earlier disappeared as he was cleansed by the essences you withheld. As his pace doubled and tripled, the obscene slapping of sweaty and wet skin against each other reverberated throughout the room. Loud gasps and small chuckles as his hand slipped while gripping the back of your thigh followed. You were folded in half while your feeble attempts at gripping his thighs to slow him down were futile. A roll of his hips and your moans were stuck in your throat.

“Fighting me now, hmm? Ngh…don’t want to serve your King and give me what I desire?” he tantalisingly whispered now that his lips were ghosting the shell of your ear. “You promised to satisfy me all night; why are you running?”

Trembling in his hold as he pounded into you, the force creating creaks in the bedframe, you struggled to shake your head at him as tears pooled and cascaded down your cheeks. The shakiness in your breathing as your body moved up and down the bed from his powerful thrusts, knocked all the wind out of your lungs. He was rattling your skeleton and you could feel it jiggling inside.

As the temperature of the room rose, so did the heat in your breaths and bodies. He felt uncomfortably hot as his skin was stuck to yours; sweat dripping down his muscles and rolling over the curves as his body clung to yours. Chest to chest, his was rubbing against your nipples creating a luscious friction that synchronically fell into a rhythm with his thumb drawing circles on your clit. If your head wasn’t spinning then, it most certainly was now. “Oh Eru…hmm, fuck! So good, so good, fuck!” you screeched into the heated air, nails digging into his thick, muscular thighs as his cock drove deeper hitting your sweet spot.

You couldn’t begin to compare how artfully magnificent his thrusts were. With each sinful roll of his hips, you felt like a story was being told; one of lust and desire, another one of loneliness and a yearning for companionship and one of unfulfilled desires treated shamefully. You knew of his loneliness after the passing of his wife, all his frustration pent up without an escape. He was a like bubbling pot with a sealed lid, waiting to explode. It was safe to say, you considered yourself lucky to catch his eyes to relieve his sexual tendencies and he was living up to all your fantasies and more. The King of your city had you sprawled out on his bed with your legs dangling over his shoulder while plunging his cock into your cunt for his satisfaction. You were a gift in his eyes, and he would choose no other to be with at that moment.

Shutting your eyes to relish at the moment properly, a yelp slipped out when he pressed more of his weight onto you, leaving you immobilised, thoroughly. Dropping your hands from his thighs, they reached for the bedsheets, not caring if you tore them apart as he battered your insides. His vigorous thrusting left your ass reddened from the weighted impact with every collision. In addition, his heavenly grunts and moans in your ear were a melody crafted by the Gods, it made your essence trickle from your cunt. “Your cunt sounds so sweet, music to my ears,” he cooed, “but I want to hear it squirting for me. Can you give me another release love? I know you can.”

Whining to look up at his face as he pulled back to hover, you could barely get a syllable out. A hand left your thigh and slithered up your torso, stopping to grope your breast and tweak your nipples before arriving at your face. He wasted no time cupping your chin and forcing you to look at his turquoise eyes. “Is my Lady going to cum for her King? Are you going to give it to me…” His eyes bore holes into yours, and his sinister smirk wasn’t helping as your walls began contracting and the pulsation grew in tempo.

You could feel your heart beating in the core of your cunt, right where his tip met your sweet spot. All the butterflies that swarmed your stomach left and travelled to your cunt to meet your heartbeat and increased the sensations. The widening of your eyes as your breathing shortened and released in small intervals had your muscles clenching around his cock tighter. The choked sob and stutter in his hips were no escape to cease performing, for he tunnelled through your gummy walls and left them battered. His goal: rearrange your insides and get you to squirt now that he knew it was possible.

“Tu–Tur–…fuck! I can feel it, it’s there…ngghh!” you wailed. Your nails had tightened their grip on the luxurious fabric and tugged with aggression as the pressure built with nowhere left to run.

“That’s it, good girl, just like that,’ he praised as the motion of his thumb steadied and he felt a force opposing the thrusting of his cock. For now, it was pleasant if he had not cum and painted your walls in his release, he was taken caught up in the bliss of knowing that he could pull such a reaction out of you. It went to show that he still had his abilities after all those lonely years without practice. Now all that meant was for him to continue his ministrations to regain his prowess.

Without a second to lose, Turgon wanted to savour the moment you squirted everything on him and drew closer to capture your lips. Eating your lips and moans, he breathed into your mouth at the insurmountable pressure that collided with his cock and sprayed all over his lower abdomen and thighs. You could feel your body shuddering as the dams broke and expelled everything you had all over him. The moans of satisfaction that vibrated in his chest through the kiss alerted you of his contentment. Shivering violently in his arms, your hands slipped in between and pushed against his stomach to cease his thrusting; he was still going without any remorse for your sensitivity. “Turukáno, ease…ease up on me, please. Sensitive,” you cried out.

Reluctantly he slowed his thrusting until they came to a stop, he eased out with an obscene squelch and stood climbed off the stand at the edge. Curling up as your legs flopped off his shoulders, your body convulsed and shook as though you’d been electrocuted.

The chuckle that followed when he gazed at your fucked out state, lips swollen and red, eyes hazy and teary, loopy smile, tear-stained cheeks, hair tangled and a sweaty body, he mentally gave himself a pat on his back. You observed the way he licked his lips as his eyes roamed your body while grinning and shutting your eyes with a dazed smile. The image of him stoking his cock as though he wasn’t tired was painted vividly in your imagination. Enough to tell you that your night wasn’t over.

“Tired?” his voice rang with concern, eyes cautious gauging your reaction and body for injury.

Squinting through your right eye, you noticed his arched brows, meditatively waiting for your reply. “Well, what you suspect Your Majesty? You’re the one who laid the damages.”

Chortling, he placed a knee beside your limped body and beamed, “You look like you could do with another round to remedy your fatigue. I’m still becharmed by your little trick for I desire to see more.”    

Flashing a look of scepticism at him, both eyes were opened staring at him with livid horror. “Your Majesty—Turukáno, you can’t be joking?!”

“I’m not. You commanded that you would be the source of my pleasure tonight, and to that I oblige,” he charmed with a magical grin as his body slid over yours like a snake. “Now be a good girl and spread your legs for me, I wish to note if my fingers can do the same.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @lilmelily @eunoiaastralwings @koyunsoncizeri @ranhanabi777 @someoneinthestars @mysticmoomin @aconstructofamind @rain-on-my-umbrella @the-phantom-of-arda @singleteapot @wandererindreams @asianbutnotjapanese @ilu-stripes @justellie17 @justjane @silverose365 @bunson-burner @batsyforyou

[jalicefanficblog]

Hazbin Hotel prompt

It’s Charlie’s wedding and Alastor & Lucifer are fighting over who gets to walk her down the isle

A/N - i totally can see Alastor and Lucifer doing that! Maybe even make like this little rival thingy as they did in hells greatest Dad. Hope you like what i made out of your Request.

The big day had arrived.

Charlie and Vaggie were getting married.

The whole of Hell was excited and looking forward to the wedding. Of course, it had taken months of preparation and it had taken time until everything matched Charlie and Vaggie's wishes and ideas.

Invitation cards had been sent out, the planning for the festivities, the guest list and seating arrangements, as well as all the formal matters had taken a lot of time and neither of the two brides had gotten cold feet beforehand.

Vaggie, who had already been married once before her death, knew the procedure and was often the calm pool that Charlie needed when a few small mistakes crept in that were tantamount to a catastrophe for the Princess of Hell and she got worked up about scenarios. And despite Vaggie's short, hardly relevant marriage to a human being on Earth, this thing here was not only much better and more exciting, no, it filled the former angel with so much happiness… Charlie was the love of her immortal life and soon being able to call her her wife only doubled this happiness.

Unlike the bride and the bride, two people in the Hazbin Hotel were not at all happy when a damn important question had to be answered shortly, before the wedding and ceremony. Who would walk Charlie down the aisle to the altar?

With Vaggie, Zestial had agreed to take on this task, due to his new friendship with Carmilla Carmine and with Charlie… it was a bit more chaotic.

“She is MY daughter, I should have this honor without question”

“Ridiculous! Charlotte should be walked down the aisle by someone with enough brain cells”

“And you think you are competent enough? Someone who records the screams of sinners live on his stupid radio show”

“That the King of Hell is now making fun of the popularity of my radio broadcast… so typical”

“Typical? I have known my Char-Char her entire life and just because you stood your ass here for six months….”

“What was that?!”

Alastor's grin became even more wicked-like and there was a certain tension in the air , as he closed the distance to the little king of hell and was ready to hurl him across the room against the nearest wall with the help of the staff.

Alastor and Lucifer were arguing , about which of them would have the great honor of accompanying Charlie down the aisle and supporting her in this important moment.

And there was no question , as to which of them would be the arm that Charlie would lean on in her enchanting wedding dress and walk down the aisle.

Alastor believed it would be him.

And Lucifer was firmly convinced that as Charlie's father he could take on this task.

"You would disappear for some deal or this ridiculously tiring power play duel with Vox!"

"Oh please, what an incredibly cheeky insinuation! At least I didn't disappear for years when Charlotte needed my support”

“You damn…!”

Before Lucifer could attack Alasot, the door to the room opened and the savior in need… or the spider in rescue, entered the room and it didn't take long for Angel Dust, to push his way between the two arguing men.

“Boys pleeeeease, if you kill each other before Chaggie's wedding, it will spoil the whole mood and I want to catch that bridal bouquet! So… now let me finish! How about if one goes to Charlie's right side and one to her left side and you accompany her to the altar together?”

There was a brief moment of silence and an oppressive stillness. Lucifer and Alastor stared at each other in annoyance.

“Even the spider has a better suggestion than you… but well, for Charlotte’s happiness I’ll go along with this idea”

And with these words Alastor walked past Angel and Lucifer with a provocative smile.

“And be the first to offer her this compromise!”

Lucifer blushed even more and raised his chin almost defiantly.

“Not if I tell her first!” Lucifer boasted and ran past Alastor.

Angel Dust could only shake his head at these two arguing powerful beings.

The main thing was that they would lead Charlie to the altar together.

And hopefully this renewed discussion would not also put one of the desserts at the wedding up for debate.

Because if there were no Popsicles, Angel wanted to get involved in this argument and he would end up , leading Charlie to the altar!

Then Alastor and Lucifer could argue, until hell freezes …and then they would have a huge supply of ice…might not be the worst option.

The End

[cuti3pi5]

Once upon a dream

 Pairings- Hyunjin x fm reader 

 Summary- Prince Hyunjin the eldest son of the royal family was destined to rule the kingdom. Prince Hyunjin had undergone rigorous training to soon take over the throne. His skills with a blade were unmatched. He was more than fit to rule his father's kingdom. Yet he was assigned a final task to prove his worthiness for the throne. His father had given him the task of entering the dangerous enchanted forest. He must slay the powerful wicked fairy and retrieve her wings only then will he earn his throne and be crowned king. But what happens once Hyunjin meets this fairy and realizes she might not be as evil as the rumors are.

 Genre- Fluff

 Word count- Still in progress

AN- Hello!! This is my first-ever post. I'm still writing this story and just wanted to give out a bit of a teaser. Please let me know if anyone is actually interested in reading this. Writing isn't my strongest skill so if I make any mistake or you wanna leave any feedback don't be scared to point it out. Anyway just let me know if anyone is interested and I’ll do my best to finish it!!!

-——————————- ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚—————————

[bookshelf-in-progress]

The Golden Shoe: A Cinderella Retelling

Once there was a princess who was her father’s only heir. When she came of age, a series of balls were held, and the man she would choose to wed would become her country’s next king. Every man in the kingdom, from peasant to prince, was invited, but the princess was pleased with none of them.

Late in the evening, a stranger arrived--a handsome youth, fair to behold, in garments that seemed woven of the light of the stars. For the rest of the evening, the princess would dance with none but him. His manners, his kindness, and his grace impressed her deeply, but before she could ask his name, the great castle clock began to chime the midnight hour. Her partner made his excuses and fled from the ballroom, and though the princess pursued, he had disappeared down the palace stairs by the time the twelfth bell tolled.

The stranger returned to the next evening’s ball, wearing clothes that seemed to glow with the light of the moon, and once again the princess danced with no other. Whispers raced through the ballroom. Who was he? Where was he from? Some claimed him he was a foreign royal, others said he was a notorious outlaw, and still others said he could only be a prince from among fairy-kind. Though the princess stayed by his side all night, she could not pry from him a single answer.

Once again, when the clock struck twelve, her partner began to flee. The princess held his hands and begged him to stay, but he told her that she must allow him to leave before the toll of the midnight bell. When she asked him why, he gave no answer, but fled down the stairs and disappeared so thoroughly that none among the palace guard could find him.

The next morning, the princess spoke to her godmother about the mysterious stranger. Tonight would be the final ball, and there was no other man that she so wished to marry. But her godmother advised her this would not be wise. The stranger could be anyone--an enemy prince, a wicked enchanter, even a beast in human form. If the princess wished to find the truth, she could not let her partner flee at midnight. On her godmother’s advice, the princess ordered that the great palace staircase, down which her partner always fled, be spread with pitch, in the hopes that it would hold him fast and break whatever spell hid his secrets.

At the final ball, the stranger appeared just as before, in clothes so grand that they seemed to shine as bright and golden as the sun itself. The princess had never been so charmed, or so in love, and she could not even think of another partner. The hours slipped away, until at last the palace clock began to chime twelve.

As before, her partner fled, but this time, his shoes caught in the pitch on the stairs. One foot came free, and the shoe stuck to the stairs, but the other foot was held fast, and there, the princess saw, her partner still stood when the twelfth bell tolled.

The stranger's golden finery faded, leaving him clad in ragged clothes. “What have you done?” he cried. “Now I am lost without hope.”

He told her he was prince of a far-off land, and his stepfather was a wicked enchanter, who wished to take the prince’s country for his own two wicked sons. The enchanter had kept the prince in ragged servitude, but his power could have been broken if the prince had come to this ball and won the princess’ heart, so long as no one knew his name or nation and only if he did not stay past midnight. Now he would be taken back to his nation, hidden away among the people. No one would know his name or his face, and none would find him, until the stolen shoe was back upon his foot and the princess claimed him as her beloved.

With that, the prince disappeared, leaving the princess with nothing but a golden shoe stuck to the stair.

The princess journeyed across kingdoms trying the shoe upon every man she met, but finding none whose foot it fit. At long last, weary and ragged, she came upon a cottage in the wood, where lived a young man. His manners were charming, and the princess thought that at last she had found her beloved. She asked him to try the shoe, and when he put his foot within, it fit perfectly. She shouted for joy, and begged the man to return to her kingdom with her, where she could claim him as her husband and break the enchanter’s spell.

But as they traveled down the dusty road, a bird fluttered overhead, and bade the princess look again. There was blood in the young man’s shoe, and it fit only because he had cut off his toe. Then she knew him for the enchanter’s son, and fled from him down a dark and lonely road.

There she wandered for days, lost and afraid, until she came upon another cottage. Here she found another young man, kind and fair of face, and her heart rose with hope that she had found her beloved at last. His foot fit within the golden shoe, and she bade him come with her out of this dark wood. They had not gone far before another bird whispered warning, and the princess saw that blood filled this man’s shoe as well. He had cut off part of his heel to fit his foot within the shoe, because he was not her beloved at all, but the enchanter’s other son. The princess fled from him, and was soon lost in the darkness of the forest.

She wandered until she was nearly dead, until at last she came to a tiny hovel in the middle of the woods. There she met an old man, who nursed her back to health and asked to know her story. She told him of her quest to find her lost prince, and he told her that she would surely not find him in these dark woods. No doubt the enchanter held the prince close to the palace. The old man promised to show the princess a path that would take her there, far away from this dark and hopeless wilderness.

The princess thanked the old man for his help, but as she was about to take her leave, she saw footprints in the ashes of the hearth. “These are not yours,” she told the old man. “There is another who lives here.”

“It is only my servant,” the old man replied. “A ragged wretch who gathers food and cleans the hearth.”

“All the same,” the princess said, ��I should like to try the shoe upon him.”

She followed the ashy footprints until she found a young man in a dirty corner of the kitchen. He was covered in cinders from head to foot and did not speak a word when she asked him his name. Yet she slid the shoe upon his foot and found it fit perfectly. Then her eyes were opened, and she recognized the young man who’d won her heart those months ago.

The princess took her beloved's hand and fled. The old man roared with rage--for he was the enchanter himself--but though he tried to pursue the pair in the forest, the birds came down from the trees and plucked his eyes from his head, and he could follow them no further.

The princess brought her prince back to her kingdom. She declared before her court that she would marry him and no other. Then his rags and cinders became golden finery once more, and all knew him for the mysterious prince who’d come to the ball. Soon, the two were wed and their countries were joined, and if they have not died, they may be living still.

[mothernerd]

blood 1 - Strange/Stark!Reader

Relationship: Dr. Strange/Princess!Stark!Reader

Rating: M

Warnings: Adult Themes, eventual smut (like, wayyy down the line), adult language, implied sexual violence, general violence

Synopsis: Reader is the daughter of the legendary King Anthony Stark, Uniter of Lands, The Iron Defender, and leader of the realm. When the king disappears during battle, hope is lost and he is presumed dead.

When the late king’s uncle, Obadiah, takes the throne until your brother Peter is of age, he quickly arranges a marriage for you with a wicked king in a neighboring kingdom.

With the realms politics in question, and rumors of an upcoming siege to overthrow Peter’s rule before it starts, you quickly learn who is loyal to the crown and who is not.

Masterlist 

Chapter Playlist

1 - an empty grave

Cast:

The Royal House Stark:

King Obadiah Stark (Obadiah Stane)

King Anthony Stark (presumed dead)

Queen Virginia Stark (Pepper)

The Late Queen Alexandra Stark (your mother)

Princess Stark!Reader- you

Prince Peter Stark (Peter Parker)

Princess Morgan Stark

Knights:

Sir Samuel Wilson

Sir Steven Rogers

Sir Clinton Barton

Spellcasters/Master Sorcerers/Sorceresses:

Stephen Strange

Wanda Maximoff

Master Wong

Loyal to House Stark:

Natalia Romanoff (Natasha)- Assassin

James Barnes- her partner

Prince Thor- of Asgard, United with Stark’s kingdom

Prince Loki- of Asgard

Lady Brunhilde- of Asgard

Lady Sif- of Asgard

King T’Challa- of Wakanda

Princess Shuri- of Wakanda

(---) 

In a final twist of irony, the day of the funeral was bright and warm. 

You’d stood quietly while the priest recited his words, while candles were lit, while the Queen trembled silently next to you. You held Morgan’s hand, you listened while the choir sang, the ominous sound reverberating through your chest. 

The mourners in black whispered while the royal family walked up to an empty coffin. You touched the polished wood, fist tightening at your side. Pepper bowed her head, reciting a quiet prayer. 

How stupid. All of this was stupid. Praying to an empty box, crying over nothing. 

You kept your eyes down, lest you betray your own thoughts. Now wasn’t the time for rebellion. Not when your queen step-mother was relying so heavily on tradition and ritual to get through the day. It’d be borderline cruel to start antagonizing her in this way. 

No, you’d wait. 

Peter, your half-brother in blood but full brother in heart, touched your elbow, pulling you from your thoughts, and guiding you away from the coffin. He kept his eyes forward, expression stoic while he lead the family back to their positions in the massive cathedral. 

“They’ll pay for this,” he murmured low into your ear, as if reading your mind. The words were laced with a malice you’d never heard from the normally cheerful prince. 

You didn’t reply, instead you grabbed your younger brother’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze. A silent agreement. 

The attack had been a betrayal of one of the kingdom’s oldest allies, a neighboring kingdom ruled by someone your father had once trusted with his life. 

Apparently nothing was sacred anymore. 

The funeral ended somberly, mourners murmuring amongst each other, ladies fawning over Pepper, though the queen looked none too pleased with the attention. 

You searched the crowd for a pair of familiar of blue eyes, finding their owner tucked away from the crowd in a secluded corner. He was speaking quietly to the sorceress, Wanda, his eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. With a small nod, he signaled you over.

Weaving through the mass of people, you slipped into the conversation with Wanda regarding you, frowning in sympathy.

“I’m so sorry, your highness,” she whispered, bowing her head. “Your father was a good man, and an honest king. The realm is less for this loss.”

“Thank you,” your tone was colder than you’d intended, a reflection of the bitterness taking form within. Clearing your throat, you tried again, softer and more agreeable this time. “He truly was the best of us.”

Stephen sent Wanda a quick glance and the sorceress excused herself, parting the hall in a hurry.

“You’re angry,” he noted quietly. 

“Am I?” you hummed, quirking a brow up at your friend. “I thought I was supposed to be sad?”

“You’re allowed to be angry,” he replied, folding his hands behind his back. “It just means you understand the injustice of it all.”

“Peter wants revenge,” you stated, mimicking his motion and staring out at the sea of royals and court members. 

“Understandable,” he murmured. “I imagine a number of officials feel similarly.”

“He isn’t old enough to take the throne,” you supplied. “We can’t go to war without a seated leader.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time an heir succeeded in an unorthodox manner,” he noted before turning his head to look at you. “How are you, truly?”

You opened your mouth to reply, words catching in your throat. You felt hollow. You felt like you wanted to scream until you woke up from whatever nightmare you were caught in. Your heart felt like it had been ripped from your chest and stomped on. 

“I’m not certain,” you finally confessed, hands straining against each other behind your back. “Part of me wants to ride through the night and kill that traitor. The other wants to curl on the ground and fill the empty grave myself.”

He nodded in understanding.

“Grief is a powerful thing,” he replied softly, scanning the room before turning and giving you his full attention . “Would you like hide in the observatory a while?”

You looked up to him in surprise. The room was still full of mourners, citizens, and members of the court. Your duty would be to talk to everyone as they passed, pulling the burden off of Pepper.

“Can we?” you asked, voice cracking at the thought of having to converse any further.

Stephen gave you a mischievous smirk, nudging you toward a side door of the church. You followed his lead, slipping out of sight and tucking yourselves away from the crowds inside a small alcove. 

“They’ll want to focus on Peter and the queen anyway,” he noted casually, drawing up a portal with his fingers. “No point in dwelling. I’ll tell anyone who asks that you fainted from the stress and required immediate medical attention.”

“I’m sure they’ll all believe it,” you retorted with a matching grin, taking his hand and letting him help you through the portal with all of your heavy mourning apparel. 

The observatory had been a new addition to the palace after Stephen had arrived as its master sorcerer. Before, it’d been an abandoned archer’s tower, last used by the late king’s father, Howard, as a means of defense against the previously antagonistic kingdoms. 

After King Anthony had taken the throne and negotiated trade and peace treaties with the nearby kings, the reinforcements had largely been forgotten. 

Stephen had suggested it as an ideal place to study the cosmos above, and after some urging on your part, your father agreed to let the two of you repair the small space. When the foundation had been fixed to his specifications, Stephen added another enchantment to increase the size internally.

From there, the two of you worked to fill the space with objects of learning and interest. 

The walls had been lined with stacks of books, maps of the universe, and healing runes. Tables had been set with with all sorts of alchemical experiments, glowing amulets, and charmed quills. A small greenhouse had been established on one of the many turret balconies, where you helped tend to some medicinal herbs and enchanted florals. 

It was a place of peace and knowledge in a world of chaos and ignorance and in it, Stephen had taken the time to teach you the secrets of the universe. It was one of the few places you knew you truly could belong without judgement. 

“I’m not convinced this isn’t sabotage,” he stated once you were alone, the glowing orange portal snapping shut behind him. 

“What makes you say that?” you asked, lifting a book, flipping through a few pages in an attempt to distract yourself from his blunt words. You agreed there was some kind of malice involved in the attack, but sabotage suggested someone within the kingdom had betrayed your father. For such as honest and good your father was, your heart couldn’t handle such a reality.

“Whispers in the village,” he answered tersely. “Wanda was giving me her report when you approached. She is traveling to the next village over as we speak.”

“Rumlow betrayed his alliance,” you replied bitterly, refusing to look up from your book, though you couldn’t tell what the thing was about. Plants? Chaos magic? “What more is there to discover?”

“Why did he do it?” he asked. “What motivation does he have to sever one of the strongest military alliances in history?” 

“Greed? We’ve had a surprise in economic activity since the scholar agreement with Wakanda,” you guessed with a shrug. “This isn’t a smart man we’re dealing with. I’m met him once before. He’s ambitious and motivated, but not particularly clever.”

“Peter is almost of age, your father has prepared him for his new role thoroughly,” he continued, pacing the space. “It doesn’t make sense. Everyone is well aware he will be of age to take the throne in six months time, and now this just ensures his placement.”

“Not everything does,” you reminded him. “You taught me that. Or don’t you remember?”

You paused after a moment, peeking up from the book after letting his words settle.

“Maybe he plans to use Peter’s inexperience against him?” you suggested quietly. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but even with the training and learning, Peter was a different person than your father, perhaps not in morals but certainly in other areas like strategy and planning. 

“I intend to get to the bottom of this,” he stated, his hand tightening at his side. You’d never seen Stephen so inflamed before. “At the very least, I can try to retrieve his body. Negotiate a dignified exchange.”

The words pierced your heart far more painfully than you’d anticipated, your hand gave a jerk and you dropped the book you’d been fidgeting with while he spoke. 

The mental image of your fathers head on a pike outside of Rumlow’s keep was enough to make you nauseous. 

“I’m sorry,” Stephen’s tone shifted at your reaction. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”

“Don’t apologize,” you assured him, clearing your throat and composing yourself. “You’re just doing your job. It’s why he trusted you to the position. You’re asking the questions that need to be asked.”

He watched you pluck the book off the ground and toss it on a nearby table with a low sigh. This was a precarious position he found himself in. 

On the one hand, he’d been appointed as the Master Sorcerer of this castle and this realm. He had an obligation to serve that role and ensure the safety of the kingdom’s inhabitants. Not to mention, his obligation as a peacekeeper in his position as Sorcerer Supreme at Kamar-Taj.

On the other, you were his dearest friend and companion, and the obvious hurt you were suffering made his other duties nearly impossible to focus on. It was no wonder Kamar-Taj frowned on intimate attachments, they did provide a distraction from the ambivalent roles sorcerers and sorceresses were bound to play. 

He wanted to serve as an unbiased judge in this troubling time, but his heart wanted him to seek justice and bring peace to your troubled mind. 

His eyes drifted to the telescope at the edge of the room and an idea hit him.

Perhaps a distraction was best for the time being? A small respite to pull away from the doom and gloom of the immediate future.

“Do you remember that star cluster I showed you last week?” he asked, hooking and arm over your shoulder and guiding you toward the window. “There’s a fascinating change that’s been occurring.”

It was still relatively bright out, though with the sun was just starting to dip over the horizon, there was enough darkness to point out the phenomena he’d discovered the night before. 

“Let me adjust-,” he tinkered with the measurements before signaling for you to lean in. “Do you see it?” 

“They’re changing color,” you noted with a small gasp of excitement. “That’s a promising omen, isn’t it?” 

Your expression had brightened considerably when you looked up at him. 

“It is,” he nodded. “The specific colors suggest a period of tranquility and prosperity after a short struggle.”

“Then maybe it isn’t all terrible,” you tried voicing optimistically. It sounded strange, like you still weren’t entirely convinced, but the evidence was clear before you. 

Stephen knew the stars never lied and had taught you as much over the time you’d spent together. 

You sighed sadly, giving the stars another peek and shaking your head when you pulled away. 

“I miss him,” you murmured, looking up at Stephen miserably. 

The sorcerer frowned sympathetically, before he moved toward you and pulled you into a tight embrace.

You pressed your cheek against his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around you. 

“I know,” he replied softly, resting his chin on your head. “Just know he loved you very much, and wouldn’t want to see you so hurt on his behalf."

That seemed to break something in you, and you buried your forehead into his chest, shaking with suppressed sobs and held back tears until finally you choked out a wave of emotions all at once.

He spent an hour sitting with you while you cried into his tunic, yelling about how angry you were to how miserable all of this made you feel. He listened, offering a handkerchief and when you started to calm down, summoned a fresh pot of herbal tea.

“We will find answers,” he stated, blowing gently over the steaming cup in his hand. 

“You sound so sure,” you noted with a bitter chuckle, eyes swollen and red from your tears.

“I’ve tampered with seeing the future from time to time,” he replied cheekily. “Perhaps I’ve had a vision?”

“And what did that vision show you?” you pressed, playing along with a ghost of a smile behind your own cup. 

“We win,” Stephen replied firmly, his expression falling serious.

“Doesn’t feel like it,” you confessed quietly. 

“Victory seldom does,” he watched you take a sip of your tea. You closed your eyes and relaxed your shoulders with the calming scent.

You opened your mouth to ask him a question when a knock at the observatory door broke the small spell of peace that’d fallen over the space.

“I’ve got it,” he gestured for you to stay seated, moving toward the door and slowly peeling it open. 

It wasn’t that he was overtly concerned for your safety, but given recent events, Stephen didn’t want to be lax in covering all possibilities. The world had gone mad and he wouldn’t put an assassin with a dagger outside the realm of potential visitors.

“Is the princess here?” Loki, Prince of Asgard, asked with a tone laced with annoyance upon Stephen’s appearance. 

“Loki?” you must have heard his voice and stood, setting your cup aside. “Stephen, let him in. It’s okay.”

With a glare at the prince, Stephen stepped aside and allowed the emerald clad royal through. 

He didn’t like outsiders in the observatory. Especially when you were around. 

It made him especially uneasy inviting another magic user inside, where they could potentially measure its wards and security for later aggression. 

“Peter mentioned you might be here,” Loki glanced around the room, arms folded behind his back. “I apologize if I’m intruding.”

That last part was directed toward Stephen with the smallest smirk. 

“No, it’s okay, we were just having tea,” you replied quickly, gesturing to the steaming pot on the table. “Could I make you a cup-?”

“No-,” he cut her off and cleared his throat apologetically. “I’ve come to say farewell. My father is ordering the borders to Asgard closed until Rumlow’s nation offers an explanation to this… tragedy.”

“I see,” your expression fell at the news. 

Certainly Asgard closing its borders was a worrisome sign. They were the kingdom’s greatest allies and largest trading partners. The effects of such a move would be felt for quite some time, both in security and in the local economy. 

“I’ll write,” he promised with a curt bow. “Don’t fall behind in your studies. I’ll be testing you the next time we meet.”

You smiled before he took your hand for a brief kiss on the knuckles. Rolling your eyes, you pulled away and threw your arms around his shoulder in a hug. 

“What a sad parting,” you laughed at his bewildered reaction. “And you’re going to kiss my knuckles like we haven’t known one another for years? On the day of my father’s funeral? Unacceptable.”

He barked out a small laugh, reciprocating the embrace with an arm before pulling away. 

“Stay safe,” he urged her before looking up at Stephen with a steely gaze. “Do well to keep her protected, Sorcerer.” 

“Always,” Stephen answered tersely, a little offended at the prince’s casual disregard for his abilities. He’d always kept you safe, and had absolutely no intention of letting that guard slip now. 

“Travel safely,” you called after him and he gave a final wave before pausing in the doorway when Stephen moved to close the door.

“Keep her close,” Loki warned quietly, the smirk disappearing completely. “There are whispers in the village of treachery and assassination. Do not let anyone have the opportunity to take advantage of the situation.”

“My associates are building wards around the castle and her quarters as we speak,” Stephen replied in agreement, a quick glance in your direction to ensure you weren’t listening. 

“The tea was a nice touch,” Loki noted with a hum. Stephen nodded curtly. 

The tea had a protection enchantment included in the mixture of herbs. Something small, but effective if you found yourself in danger without him, Wong, or Wanda nearby.

“Be well,” Stephen closed the door once Loki was out of sight, turning and finding you digging through his trunk of cloaks at the back of the room. “What are you doing?”

“I want to see Natalia and James,” you answered, pulling out a large blue cloak and holding it to your shoulders. 

“Absolutely not,” he crossed his arms. “Your father was just killed, possibly murdered. You’re not going to the village unprotected.”

“That’s why you’re coming,” you threw a crimson cloak in his direction, fastening the blue one over your shoulders. 

“Did you miss the part where I said murdered?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Then it’s a good think I’m friends with assassins,” you chimed back, pulling the hood of the cloak over your head. “They might be able to tell us something.”

“I’m sure Wanda and Wong have already talked to them,” he shot back, folding the cloak over is arm. “You should stay at the castle, at least for tonight.”

“You already know I’m going to go regardless,” you replied. 

“Because you’re a headstrong idiot,” he sighed, reluctantly pulling the cloak over is shoulders. “Who clearly has a death wish. What if your family comes looking for you?”

“They won’t,” you answered with a confident grin. “Mother is going to be with Morgan and Peter is going to lock himself away in the armory or training fields until the knights give up and make him retire to his chambers.”

“You’re so confident in your knowledge of the castle,” Stephen snorted, tying the cloak around him. 

“It’s what happens when you’re the eldest daughter of a king,” you replied, patting him on the shoulder. “You see everyone, but no one sees you.” 

“Poetic.”

“Also, you owe me an ale for enchanting my tea,” you quirked a brow toward him when he stammered back a response. “Didn’t think I would notice?”

“I’m losing my touch,” he sighed, waving a hand and summoning a bag of coin.

“No, you’re just turning into a fussy mother hen,” you grinned, the smile looking far more relieving than the grief he know you wore on the inside. “It’s endearing.”

Wha danger was a short outing for the evening? It was arguably safer in a crowd than alone in her chambers, especially while Wong was still working on the wards.

Besides, the assassins you’d found friendship in would do well to keep threats away as well.

And while Stephen pondered this thought, you were already part-way out of the room and headed toward one of the hidden passages in the hall. 

(---)

2 - a night at the pub

TAG LIST (MESSAGE ME IF YOU WANT TO BE ADDED)

@ayamenimthiriel​ @drstrangely-strange @ladynothing​ @im-a-bi-disaster-help​

[ilikefandom]

Altering Reality

”Request: How about a fic where Voldemort wins and Y/N and Sev go back to fix things but she has to keep reminding him that its not the original timeline? Make it fluffy <3

Requested by: Anon

Synopsis: (Y/n) and Sev go back in time, but all they needed was a litte perspective.

Pairing: Severus Snape x Fem reader

Warnings: Small discription of blood

Voldemort had said it himself, Harry Potter was dead, he had won and they had lost. (Y/n) tugged Severus through the hallways of the castle. Their flight bringing them past the empty classrooms and exploded hallways. 

“We have to do something.” (Y/n) Snape said, facing her husband and clutching at his hands.

“What can we do?” Severus asked, taking his wife in his arms. “Unless we can go back and change something, the Potter boy will still die.”

(Y/n)’s eyes widened and she dug around in her pockets. When she had finished searching she lifted a gold chain out of her bag. Attached to it was a small device with a sand timer in the middle.

“How on earth did you get a time turner?” Severus looked at his partner with a wicked grin on his face.

“I received it from a dear friend at the Ministry. This is the only way that we can change things, we can go back and try again.” (Y/n) was basically bouncing on the balls of her feet as she looked at Severus. 

“Are you sure that this is a good idea?” Severus asked as (Y/n) pulled her time turner over the both of them.

“Yes.” (Y/n) answered as she began to twist the time turner back six hours. “If we are correct in our assumptions, what you have to do is give Harry Potter some sort of clue on how to open the snitch. Give him something that could be of use. And make sure you lure Voldemort away from the castle.”

The scenery blurred and meshed as the couple made their way back in time. Arriving just as Voldemort sent his first message to the death eaters. 

“Showtime.” (Y/n) smiled, pecking Severus on the cheek then dragging him down the hallway where they ran seconds ago, that is six hours in the future.

“Goodbye my love.” Severus said, pressing a kiss to (Y/n)’s forehead. 

(Y/n) darted down the stairs to the dungeons to find the compartment. She retrieved Severus’ anti-venom for Nagini, his book of spells and an amulet that she had made herself. This amulet had the power to tether a person’s soul to their body while the body healed itself. Quite like life support did in Muggle hospitals.

Severus, on the other hand, made his way to the boathouse, unaware of what he should do if he met the Dark Lord. He gripped the tethering amulet that (Y/n) had made and took a deep breath before crossing paths with his dark master and stalking alongside him to the place where he believed would be a place where he would die.

(Y/n)’s amulets were important and powerful. Being born with a half magic system in her body, (Y/n) could only use wand magic on certain occasions. Instead of being angry and bitter that their daughter had hardly any magic, (Y/n) had been sent to a special wizarding school in Egypt to become a sau, or a maker of magical charms. Her magic was infused into different pieces of stone, then carved into shapes and symbols to give her magic meaning.

(Y/n) moved seamlessly through the students catching a glimpse of the Golden Trio as they made their way to the boat house, seeing Severus joining Voldemort on the path, following the students down the path, (Y/n) ran her fingers over her teleportation amulet. How she wished that she could pull her husband to her, for this plan to work, she needed him to lure the Dark Lord into a false sense of victory.

Arriving just in time for Voldemort to order Nagini to attack (Y/n) watched as her husband lost blood from his neck, setting down the amulet, she pulled out the anti-venom and her enchanted artifacts.

As the trio fled the small house, clutching memories in hand (Y/n) drew a protective circle around herself and Sev’s barely alive body. Ignoring the blood and venom seeping from Severus’ neck (Y/n) said the activation spell and connected the amulet to Snape’s soul. She poured the anti-venom and healing potions alternately over Sev’s skin until the wound itself was mostly healed, a small cut that was not only survivable but very likely not to scar.

Releasing the amulet from Severus’ soul, he inhaled a deep breath. “(Y/n) my love?”

“I’m right here Severus.”

The couple stared into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Letting out shaky laughter (Y/n) pulled Severus to his feet. The couple wrapped themselves in each other’s embrace and swayed slightly as the morning breeze blew into the boathouse. 

Making their way back to the school, the Snapes fell from their elation into silence as they snuck back into the crowd waiting outside of the school. Voldemort once again said that Potter was dead and (Y/n)’s breath hitched, all of her muscles collapsing in on themselves. Until silence filled the courtyard.

Neville Longbottom had stepped forward, raising the Gryffindor sword and all chaos broke loose. Harry Potter stood up, grabbed his wand and ran toward Voldemort. All of the defenders of Hogwarts raised their wands and the death eaters charged the castle. 

Grabbing his wife, Severus disapperated to the top of the astronomy tower, as he held her gently, the sounds of explosions rocked the building. 

Screams from the front court yard made Severus let out a shocked whimpering sound. (Y/n) who had regained her bodily functions made her way up to the windows. Then she turned and tackled Snape with a hug. “He did it. Harry Potter has done it.”

Severus' fear trickled away and he held his love closer than before. “He sure did my dear one. Harry Potter is, once again, the boy who lived.”

Author’s note: It’s a bit shorter than usual, but I hope you like it. Please leave a comment and/or request a story. I love to hear your feedback and suggestions. 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 04

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual harassment (please don’t read this chapter if it triggers/makes you uncomfortable, your safety comes first)

A/N:  i do realise i’m on a roll posting every day but uni starts early and idk why i keep writing like i’m running out of time😂 hope you enjoy this chapter. much love xx

* additionally, there is a light sexual harassment scene in this chapter and if anyone is uncomfortable or triggered by it i would skip it. your mental health and safety come first. *

NEXT CHAPTER

One day I’ll fly away...

She remembered the very first role she got to play as a lead. She was the standby for Glinda in Wicked. She could still feel her hand shaking as the backstage technicians secured her to the bubble. She could still hear the bubble machine engine rumble as the bubble raised up in the ceiling and for a moment she was above everything - above the audience, above the cast, above the stage itself. It felt like flying, soaring through the gasping of the crowd. She remembered feeling like this was her height, this was her flight but as things went, as she got more roles and as she progressed to the screen as she always wanted, the feeling of flying just seemed to soar, turning her into a creature of air.

Flying for Bucky was something he couldn’t remember, he remembered crashing. Remembered falling from the train waiting for the peaceful slumber of death to come but it never did, remembered the cold snow melting through his jacket reaching his skin. It’s cold. Remembered diving in after Steve, lungs filled with water, heavy suit. It’s cold, it’s quiet. Soaring was only something he could dream of while frozen or when they put him on a cell with a small window. Crashing was more like something he could remember, drowning, pushed to the bottom by his arm, wishing death came to greet him

More powerful than crashing was sound. The theatre was always filled with whistling from men getting a peak at ladies’ legs, women giggling and security trying to keep out children and teens away. You could hear the laughter reverberating from any material, it was electrifying. Her voice however seemed to melt over distorted past sounds, a melancholy while held hands with the old telling it never of its former glory but of what it can be. Bucky knew now why her agency kept her so locked up, all people with a voice eventually fly away. 

     - Don’t just stare at me. - she bite her lip, looking the other way. Did she sound that bad? She thought she sounded just fine in the shower that morning, maybe her bathroom had better acoustics. - Should we go back home? Before it gets dark?

     - Sure. - he got up from his seat, extending his hand towards her so she could jump off the set. She put her hand in his, another hand coming to rest upon his shoulder as her elevated her up into the air before bringing her down onto the worn out floor. 

The walk back to the subway was quiet. People were starting to crowd Coney Island for night time dates. Bucky remembered bringing girls to dates in Coney Island, even remembered bringing Steve along, he just didn’t remember the girls’ names anymore. There were some flashes of what they were wearing but surely those memories were replaced with that of Y/N staring at the ferris wheel as they walked back to the subway.

Once there, her child like wonder of the city that never slept and the city which she now lived in didn’t seem to leave her eyes, sparkling brighter than the billboards in Times Square. The walk back to the apartment was once again quiet, with their footsteps being the only thing echoing in the halls. Soon enough they reached her door, still looking as intact as they left it.

     - Thank you so much for showing me Coney Island. - she handed him the teddy he had won. - Thank you gift. 

     - I won it for you, Y/N. Besides, I think I’m a bit past stuffed animals. 

     - Well, I’ve had my fair share of stuffed animals to last a life time and I insist you keep this one. - she stuffed the teddy between his arms, finding it incredibly adorable how the little toy looked smaller in the middle of his arms than in hers. - Little Coney Island memento. 

     - I should get going. - he changed the subject, gesturing with his hands as he looked at the time on his watch. - It’s been a great day, Y/N.

     - The pleasure’s been all mine, Bucky. - she smiled as she held the edge of the door. She stood by the slightly opened door watching as he turned the corner which led to the lift. Once he was out of sight, Y/N walked into her apartment, closing the door behind her but still holding the knob with a silly smile on her face. 

Bucky reached the headquarters around 11 PM. Despite going the long way home, expecting Steve to be asleep when he returned. Steve had a very mundane routine when it came to sleeping, he could still sleep but he would wait until everyone was asleep for him to go to his bedroom. Bucky didn’t want to have to dance the first day in the job waltz. He knew he cared, he knew Steve wanted him to be alright. There was only one small thing; Steve wanted Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, his Bucky, and he just wasn’t that man anymore. He didn’t like being asked who he was, he doesn’t know who he is.

Opening the door to the living room, he found Captain America himself sat on the big lounge chair, skimming through his list of modern day TV shows and movies. His blue eyes moved from the bright lights of the television to him.

      - How was the first day? - he questioned, regular optimism present in his voice. Steve had remained the same, maybe it was that which made him believe the spectre of the boy Bucky was could be revived. He seemed to forget dead people can’t be revived. 

      - It was good, went to Coney Island.

      - Coney Island? - Steve muted the TV, contorted face expression settling into his youthful features. - I thought you were going to guard her door.

      - She wanted to see Coney Island. Couldn’t let her go alone?

      - Didn’t her personal assistant tell you she couldn’t leave? - he had been noisey, he had looked into Bucky’s contract. He told himself it was just in case, just in case Bucky needed his help. - You don’t want to get in any trouble, specially with agencies. They’re the devil.

      - I’ll take it into consideration. - his skin tightened as he smiled a tight straight line. 

      - Do you wanna stay for a while? I’m watching a series Sam recommended. 

      - I think I’m gonna just go to sleep.

Steve nodded allowing Bucky to return to his bedroom. There wasn’t much in the bedroom, a bed, side table and wardrobe, nothing else. No mirrors and no windows, silence, grey and black bedding, no decoration rather than a postcard his sister had sent him during the war framed in a plastic frame. No glass, Steve wanted nothing around he could harm himself with. It was almost like living in an insane asylum. 

He looked at the little teddy bear in his hands before placing it on the side table, a little smile on his face. A Coney Island memento indeed. 

The morning came rushing like the rain which fell against Y/N’s bedroom glass window. She turned around in her bedding, pushing her knitted quilt up to her nose, the scent of fresh crisp cotton invading her senses. The mood would’ve remained the same comfortable, early morning type had it not been for her comforter being yanked off her without any warning. Through the fogginess of morning sight, she could make out Ms. Olson in her traditional black suit co-ord. She thought it fitting, considering her morning was now ruined.

     - Get up. We have much to do. - she barked like an infuriating dog.

     - But I thought I had the weekend off.- Y/N rubbed the sleep of her eyes, sitting up, quilt covering her body. 

     - You have last mine commitment. Now run along and change into something more ... - he analysed her before gazing her face, tight expression settling in. - Enchanting. 

She left Y/N in the bedroom, clenching her bedding as she looked around the place she’d rather be. Nevertheless, she rose from her bed and walked up to her wardrobe grabbing the first dress she could find and a pair of heels. Her routine during work was different, she normally showered, got her makeup done, dressed and then out of the door. Mechanic, controlled, with Ms. Olson asking her to hurry up. In a split second she returned to the living room, bag held on her shoulder, sunglasses in hand as she prepared to walk out with Miss Olson.

    - You should’ve put some product on your hair. The ends look dry. - Miss Olson commented as they walked outside. She looked around hoping Bucky would be around but it was just her and Miss Olson. 

    - Is Mr. Barnes not coming? 

    - It’s a dress rehearsal. - Y/N froze in her mind. Dress rehearsals were supposed to be better than fittings but after her last experience she really wasn’t in the mood for another experience with the director.

Time seemed to stop, freeze in spot as she stepped inside the car. No noise, no sound, even colour seemed to fade as the car drove faster and faster. She wondered what she could do, open the door, roll over, maybe do it like what she had seen in Lady Bird but the driver always kept the door fully locked and Miss Olson always had her eye on her like Sauron’s Eye.

She looked at her phone in her lap, fingers loomed over Bucky’s name. He was employed by her, maybe she could ask him to come over. Maybe if he was there it would be easier. She sent the message hopeful he would reply, but the text bounced back. Looking at the network, she was lacking all the bars on her phone. Sighing, she leaned against the car seat, looking off the window, dark clouds on the blue sky mocking her. 

As the car came to a halt on the same building as before, she almost had to be pulled out the car by Miss Olson. Once inside, Y/N could see him, she could smell his patchouli fragrance as he wrapped his arm around her. She stood once again in front of the camera lights, muffled cries in her head as she was squeezed into a corset and a then a body con dress. Her eyes were blinded by the lights, behind those lights Miss Olson and Mister Powell gazing at her. Her hand slide down her collarbones to her lap, feeling the fabric as the cameras kept flashing, locking her in a case of lights. 

Once the lights dimmed, she could see them looking down at her, almost five feet tall, mumbling she couldn’t hear as one of the costume designers helped her out.

     - Costumes are looking fantastic. - the director walked up to her, hand wrapping itself around her waist, raising up to lay just below her breast. - Maybe you should try and cut some weight. You would look a bit better.

     - We’ve already started a diet plan. - Miss Olson added. - Not to worry, Mr. Powell. Y/N is fully invested in this movie.

She remained caged in the conversation, being moved by someone back onto the car and dropped at home. She looked around her hallway, wondering if it had always been this cold. As she opened the door to her home, she noticed the jar of flowers the director had sent her on her kitchen balcony. White carnations in a crystal clear jar. She stormed to the kitchen, ripping the tag of the carnations. To my perfect leading lady. The handwriting wasn’t his, probably his assistant. 

When had it all gone so wrong? Why did it felt wrong? Why did the flight felt like a burning crash? When did it all get so screwed up? 

She wrapped her hands around the glass jar, hands trembling, the sound of her ring hitting against the glass being the only thing she heard before a shattering sound filled her mind. It was fast, too fast but she threw the jar against the wall, watching as the glass shattered into a thousand pieces, falling into the ground like small diamonds. She thought it would make her feel better but instead she feel to the ground, trying to gather the pieces together as guilt embraced her. 

    - Y/N?

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[slashingdisneypasta]

Slashers / Horror Villains as: Animated (Children’s) Movie Villain Songs

+ A Nightmare Before Christmas 

First of all, its mostly Disney. Second of all, I hope you know that this was a struggle for me. 

Also, note, Bubba will be the only Leatherface in this post and Billy and Stu will be the only Ghostfaces. There is Norma Bates though, so sort of a consolation. 

There are links to videos on YouTube ^^

~~~

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher / Ghostface: Playing With the Big Boy’s Now (Hotep and Huy, Prince of Egypt) 

Well... they’re part of the ‘big boys’, now! They are part of the Slashers group that, uh, ‘inspired them’. Imagine instead of Egyptian Gods, they’re chanting Slasher names. 

[HUY] Pick up your silly twig, boy [HOTEP & HUY] You're playing with the big boys now! Ha ha ha ha!

[EGYPTIAN PRIESTS] By the power of Ra Mut, Nut, Khnum, Ptah Sobek, Sekhmet, Sokar, Selket Anubis, Anukis Hemsut, Tefnut, Meshkent, Mafdet... 

Chop Top and Nubbins + Bubba Sawyer / Leatherface: Kidnap Mr Sandy Claws (Lock, Shock and Barrel, Nightmare Before Christmas) 

I mean... they aren't Drayton’s minions, but they are like this XD 

I say that we take a cannon, aim it at his door And then knock three times And when he answers Sandy Claws will be no more

Yes you're so stupid, think now If we blow him up to smithereens We may lose some pieces And then Jack will beat us black and green

Kidnap the Sandy Claws Tie him in a bag

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray: In The Dark Of The Night (Rasputin, Anastasia)

Mystical man? Check! ‘Betrayal’ (As far as he sees it)? Check. Made them pay? Check; I think Nica, Sarah and all the other families he destroys throughout the franchise can attest to that. And ‘One little girl got away’? Well Andy isn’t a girl, but yeah. Check. 

I was once the most mystical man in all Russia When the royals betrayed me they mad a mistake My curse made each of them pay But one little girl got away Little Anya, beware Rasputin's awake

Drayton Sawyer: Don’t Fall In Love (Forte, Beauty and the Beast: The Enchanted Christmas) 

Its such a crochety, unessessarily rude way of describing relationships to someone! I mean, I understand completely and resonate deeply with the desire to be alone and not be responsible for anyone else, but- come on! Beast doesn't share your view! Let it go! 

Its just like Drayton’s reaction to Bubba having a crush. Super cool video too! 

As soon as your heart rules your head Your life is not your own It's hell when someone's always there It's bliss to be alone

And love of any kind is bad A dog, a child, a cat They take up so much precious time Now, where's the sense in that?

Freddy Krueger: No More Mr Nice Guy (Rothbart, Swan Princess) 

A man with an uncomfortable relationship with the main female character pretending to be normal and not homicidal for a while before unlocking more power and letting there inner bad guy loose and taking great pleasure in it? Sounds familiar. They also have a similar vocabulary- except of course Rothbart is rated G. 

I'll become that nasty, naughty, dirty, spiteful Wicked, wayward, way-delightful Bad guy I was born to be

Lyin' loathesome, never-tender Indiscreet repeat offender No more Mr Nice Guy That's not me 

Inkubus: The World’s Greatest Criminal Mind (Professor Rattigan, The Greatest Mouse Detective)

‘Inkubus’ is literally a movie about him listing all his crimes over the centuries and messing with the police force because he has a bone to pick with a detective. Sounds pretty similar to me! Listen to the song! ^^

Now comes the real tour de force Tricky and wicked, of course! My earlier crimes were fine for their times But now that I'm at it again An even grimmer plot has been simmering In my great criminal brain! 

Jason Voorhees: Despicable Me (About Gru, Despicable Me) 

I... this is all I could think of!! But the more I listen to it and read the lyrics... it f i t s Jason so well! XD Please just let this slide; I know Gru isn't really a villain but he is at the start!! Let me have this. 

Why ask why? Better yet "Why not?" Why are you marking x on that spot? Why use a blow torch isn't that hot? Why use a chainsaw? Is that all you got? Why do you like seeing people in shock? But my question to you is "Why not?" Why go to the bank and stand in line Just use a freeze gun it saves me time. I'm havin' a bad, bad day It's about time that I get my way Steam rollin' whatever I see, Huh, despicable me I'm havin' a bad, bad day If you take it personal that's okay Watch, this is so fun to see Huh, despicable me

Jennifer Check: Trust In Me (Kaa, The Jungle Book) 

She’s a succubus demon. Tempting boys into a safe-feeling, docile state so she she can strike is her thing. 

Will cease to resist Just relax Be at rest Like a bird In a nest

Trust in me Just in me Shut your eyes And trust in me

Mayor Buckman and Granny Boone: Savages (Governor Ratcliffe and the Colonizer’s parts, Pocahontas) 

Obviously, because of the (Inaccurate) historical relevance of both movies (Different time’s, same terrible prejudice,) and also because there is definitely a very cult-ish feel about both Governor Ratcliffe’s song and Buckman’s leadership. How easily they’re able to gather support from their people for the most horrible reasons. How horrifying it is to audiences and historians. 

They're only good when dead They're vermin, as I said And worse

They're savages! Savages!

Barely even human

Savages! Savages!

Drive them from our shore! They're not like you and me Which means they must be evil We must sound the drums of war!

Michael Myers: The Gospel Truth II (Muses about Hades, Hercules)

In a Disney movie, Michael would have others sing his song about him as he goes about his silent, determined walking XD 

If there's one God you don't want to get steamed up It's Hades 'Cause he had an evil plan He ran the underworld But thought the dead were dull and uncouth He was as mean as he was ruthless And that's the gospel truth He had a plan to shake things up And that's the gospel truth

Midnight Man: Oogie Boogie’s Song (Oogie Boogie, Nightmare Before Christmas)

A song about a “Gamblin’ Boogie Man” is perfect for the Midnight Man! He and Oogie could be pals. 

Woah! The sound of rollin' dice To me is music in the air 'Cause I'm a gamblin' Boogie Man Although I don't play fair It's much more fun, I must confess When lives are on the line Not mine, of course, but yours, old boy Now that'd be just fine

Norma Bates: Mother Knows Best Reprise (Mother Gothel, Tangled)

Norma is soooooo so so so unbelievably manipulative towards Norman (And Dylan. It just works better on Norman) and this song absolutely presents that. She can go from sweet, loving mother to spiteful, heinous bitch in two seconds if Norman or Dylan don't do what or react the way she wants them to. 

Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that's demented

This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you've invented, Just proves you're too naive to be here Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you, you think that he's impressed? Don't be a dummy Come with mummy

Pamela Voorhees: My Lullaby (Zira, The Lion King 2)

In a opposite approach to a villainous mother to Norma, we have Pam, who was heartbroken by the camp councillors letting her son die and vowed to get revenge. She didn't know she was teaching Jason to be the Crystal Lake killer like Zira did, but she did, and the whole song does have her kind of feel to it also. 

Sleep, my little Kovu Let your dreams take wing One day when you're big and strong You will be a kingI've been exiled, persecuted Left alone with no defense When I think of what that brute did I get a little tense But I dream a dream so pretty That I don't feel so depressed 'Cause it soothes my inner kitty And it helps me get some rest

Patrick Bateman: Cruella De Vil (Arthur, 101 Dalmations) 

Never before was there a song that described audiences reaction to watching Patrick living in his daily life and hearing his thoughts better then this one. 

Cruella De Vil Cruella De Vil If she doesn't scare you No evil thing will To see her is to Take a sudden chill Cruella, Cruella De Vil

The curl of her lips The ice in her stare All innocent children Had better beware She's like a spider waiting For the kill Look out for Cruella De Vil

Pennywise (Both): You’re Only Second Rate (Jafar, Return of Jafar)

Mostly for the video and Jafar’s energy in this scene actually XD So many transformations, so many tasteless puns! I was going to give this to Freddy but its the closest thing to Penny I could think of. 

Go ahead and zap me with the big surprise Snap me in a trap, cut me down to size I'll make a great escape It's just a piece of cake You're only second rate You know your hocus-pocus isn't tough enough And your mumbo-jumbo doesn't measure up Let me pontificate upon your sorry state You're only second rate

Sheriff Hoyt / Charlie Hewitt: Hellfire (Judge Claude Frollo, Hunchback of Notre Dame) 

A nasty filthy man who think’s he’s in the right despite being the biggest creep and monster ever? Mhm. 

*Note: I honestly didn't notice the deformed baby, Quasimodo/Thomas link until the day after I wrote this. Don't know how I feel about it. I mean, Hoyt is actually nice, in his way, to Thomas so the connection isn't totally there but onwards:

Beata Maria You know I am a righteous man Of my virtue I am justly proud

Beata Maria You know I'm so much purer than The common, vulgar, weak, licentious crowd 

End of Post! 🌼

(Bonus’ under the cut) 

I did think of other connections which I obviously didnt landed on but still have merit! Here! 

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher: ‘Gaston’ was considered, but that would have just been a joke XD I don’t think Stu is quite as obsessed with Billy as LeFou is with Gaston. 

Chucky: Friends on the Other Side. Obviously! That link was actually what inspired me to make this post. In The Dark of Night fits to a T though. 

Freddy Krueger: You’re Only Second Rate! Ah, its perfectttt. But No More Mr Nice Guy fits better. If I ever do a Slashers as Disney Villains post, he’ll be Jafar for sure. Or Hades. Or Scar. Or Oogie. Probably Hades. You know what? Without the gore and blood and explicit sexual references, Freddy could be a Disney Villain himself. Its not like Disney hasn't towed the line before with perverted villains. >_> (Jafar and Frollo) 

Jason and Pamela Voorhees: Mother Knows Best! Of course. 

Jennifer Check: Love is For Peasants (Barbie Island Princess) Because Jennifer thinks like this: 

Men? <<< Literally anything else. 

Patrick Bateman: How Can I Refuse? (From Barbie Princess and the Pauper) XD If Patrick were a kids movie villain, he would totally join the ranks of corrupted usurpers pretending to be trustworthy royal advisory staff. Also ‘Let It Die’, that little interruption part of another song that O’Hare sings in the Lorax and ‘How Bad Can I be?’. 

[littlefreya]

Rip You Apart - Part 2

Summary: He demanded you to stay away from his basement, but you were curious by the howling sounds. Now he caught your scent and the beast inside him wants to claim what your body offers. 

Sequal to Part 1

Pairing: Werewolf!Henry Cavill x Reader

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: AU. Dark Fantasy, violent rough sex, MaleDom / FemSub, overstimulation, biting, manhandling, unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of bodily fluids. All the good stuff.

A/N: Okay, I woke up this morning and wrote the short drabble and did not intend to have such warm feedback from you guys. So a gift from me to you here is part two! Many thanks to the AMAZING @agniavateira who edits my work! 

Title: Rip You Apart

The deep blue gaze followed your hands as you reached to the cuffs around his thick wrist. Standing on the tips of your toes, you made an effort to reach the small iron pin that held the cuffs together. The screeching sound of grinding metal filled your ears as you managed to pull the small peg between your thumb and index finger. 

Henry’s arm fell heavily to the side of his body. You’ve meant to reach his other arm when he grasped your jaw tightly and held your face to his. He pulled you close, tilting your head up and letting his nose run up and down your neck to catch your alluring scent.  

A low soft groan left his lips while his hand brought your ear to his mouth. “You can still run, turn away and I won’t hurt you.” 

You whimpered, your breath shuddering through your chest. There was no physical or mental power that would make you want to turn and leave him behind. It was as if you were bewitched, your mind weakened by whatever was in the air. 

Perhaps it was those piercing blue eyes that had you under his spell?

The only will you had was to touch him. Trembling fingertips pressed onto hard abs, now lubricated with sweat that made his skin glow in the dim light. You slid further down and squeezed his pulsating manhood, whimpering once more as you felt his girth between your slender fingers. 

He wasn’t lying, he was about to rip you apart. 

Henry hummed with pleasure, his free hand tugged your hair, forcing your head further back as he ran his beard down your exposed throat. It was as if he meant to mark you with his scent, to frighten away any other wooing male who might come in your way.

“I don’t want to run,” you answered, enchanted. Your skin tingled and reddened under his ministration. Gently and carefully, you nudged him away and shifted to undo the other cuff while he stared at you with growing anticipation. 

You knew well enough he could have freed himself once the first cuff was off. It was your loyalty that he needed.

He coveted your full devotion and more than anything, he coveted you.

The remaining cuff fell to the ground, thundering through the room and through your trembling heart. You stepped away, watching as Henry stood free, arms pressed to each side of his body. His gaze pierced through you silently, penetrating into your soul. There you were, a young succulent female who wandered into the territory of a starved ferocious beast. 

Instinctively, you paced back with fear as he began to move. Your feet were nearly stumbling but you needed them no longer. 

In a flash, you were held against his body, toes dangling in the air as his hands grasped you onto him. His grip was so stark that you couldn’t help but yip, yet your cries were muffled into the mouth that devoured you. 

He kissed you with an aching craving, his tongue invading between your lips to domineer your very breath. You’ve never been kissed this way, as if you were claimed, any refusal you made is to be dismissed. 

Not as if you wished to refuse him. 

Henry’s hand made it clear that he has no intention of letting you go either. His hands found your behind and pressed you into his hardness, the slight friction enough to make him moan into the depth of your throat. The sensation of his girth against your abdomen made your panties soaked and the vicious smirk that formed within his kiss did nothing but alert you that his need for you was dire and unrelenting. 

Within seconds, you were shoved to the ground with the large, burly man climbing on top of you. His fingers wrapped around the fabric of your clothes and ripped them shreds. Your shirt, your jeans, and your undergarments were now nothing but a pile of rubbish laid on the ground. 

Alarmed, your hands came to cover your chest, your legs crossing to shy away from his hungry glare. But the enormous god-like creature would have none of that, his hands forced yours away, pinning your wrists to the floor while his knee kicked your thighs apart. 

“I warned you,” he spoke darkly before lowering his head to the throbbing tendon in your neck. Warm wetness flicked over your throat as his tongue descended down your skin. You shivered and hissed at the way his saliva chilled in the cold air once he moved away.

Following the course of your body with his mouth, he savoured on every inch of you with vast enticement. To him, you were a delicacy to be consumed, and damn if he didn’t want to have it all.

“I always wondered what you taste like,” he murmured against your breast, the tip of his tongue circling around your nipple. A deep moan departed from your lips, your voice aquiver, your body arching on the floor, taking whatever he offered as a great whore. You brought yourself to grind at his knee, leaving a trail of wetness against his trousers. 

“Please, Henry.” You urged, trying to induce more friction. The chains weren’t lifted from him, they were passed onto you.  Now you were bound to his sinful will, resistance was futile. 

“Take me!” 

If only you’ve known that those words brought his promise to light.

Sharp fangs sank into the plumpness of your breast, his teeth broke into your tender skin.. You yelped out in pain only to be comforted with pleasure as he licked at the blood that dripped from the bite.  

“You smell so good,” he murmured against your chest as his hands finally left your aching wrists. Within seconds, every inch of your body was left bruised. Deprived, he left his seal across your body, scratching, suckling, nipping, and kissing at every pure piece of flesh. Even the sacred space between your legs wasn’t spared. You gasped, left reddened and swollen as he abused you with his wicked mouth and tasted your elixir with every suckle of his lips.

“You taste even better,” he murmured, his breath vaping hot against your cunt.

You bit on your knuckles, pushing yourself into his face to urge him to fuck you with his mouth. 

But you’ve gravely erred. It wasn’t the time to please you, it was time to wreck you.

Kneeling between your legs and unbuckling his belt, he exposed his endowed cock to your smitten eyes. You whimpered as you drank in the sight of his perfect manhood, adorned with ridges and veins that ran through its generous width. Your body shivered as you realized he was about to enter you, and make you take him all the way inside with no bargain.  

With every means to keep the promise he made, he gripped your thighs, nails digging into your muscles. He pulled you toward him until your ass rested on his thighs, positioned for easy penetration.

His beautiful blue eyes focused on your terrified gaze, his hands further spreading your thighs apart. 

 “After this, you will be mine forever, do you understand?” 

It wasn’t a question meant to be answered.

You both cried out as he entered you with a violent slam. Your wail was deep and full of pain against his melodic shout of overwhelming pleasure as his cock sank fully into your lush depth. He was too large, splitting you in half. Your walls struggled to shove him away as if to banish this sinful invasion into your body but he would have none of it. Smirking, he pulled away only to shove into you again, even harder. There was no parley nor did he mean to spare you, you were meant to stretch and accommodate him.

He knew he was hurting you yet there was no power to stop the beast that took control of the reins. Loud grunts chanted through his mouth, and his brow furrowed with concentration as he held you hard and fucked you like an animal.

Tears sprang from your eyes, he made you sear with each thrust yet something inside you wanted this, needed him to use you, to unload his pain into your willing wound. You pushed to meet his thrusts, squirming upward, grinding yourself against his body. Soon pain mixed with pleasure and your cunt became devoted to his claim.

Henry’s brow softened at your acceptance, thrilled as you took everything given to you. He watched with awe as you whimpered for him with ecstasy, tugging on your own hair as waves of pleasure licked at the spot where your bodies united. 

His hand reached out to cup your jaw forcing you to look straight into his eyes as he pounded you. Jostling on the floor you quickly grabbed his hand, forcing his thumb into your mouth. You moaned and sucked hard while his cock bottomed out inside you causing warmth to gather within your loins. You were close, never feeling so full and whole in your entire life.

Yet Henry gave a glare that was a mixture of awe and fury. It was wrong of you to provoke the beast but you couldn’t help it, you heeded the calling of something archaic.  

“You’ll take what’s given to you.” He blurted and placed his hand on your neck, choking you as he began to pound into you at a violent pace. It was all that was needed for you to lose yourself in his carnal union. You screamed in ecstasy, feeling yourself falling apart around his cock. 

Henry looked at you with fury, eyes blazing at your sight of bliss. With a grunt, you were flipped on your knees and entered from behind. You were still clenched from your last orgasm yet he ignored the protest of your walls and took your hair in his fist, fucking you with inhuman stamina.

 All you could do was succumb to his need and moan as he punished you with impossible speed.

“Is this what you wanted?” Henry rasped in your ear. “Is this what you expected you’ll receive?”

“Yes!” you screamed, feeling yourself clench again. The room filled with the squelching sound of your wet skins slapping against one another with great haste. Adding to the symphony of his animalistic growls which overpowered your succumbing cries.

Once again pleasure was taken against your will. Your cunt milked at his cock woth desperation, begging him to join you in this dark paradise, to give your body what it needed. You were on the brink of collapsing, muscles violently trembling beneath him as he took you in vigour, yet once again you were flipped, taken to a new position before you even managed to catch your breath. 

Down on your back, hands pinned at each side of your head, Henry drove between your legs, his blue eyes met yours, ravenous and feral. He gasped against your lips, drops of sweat trickling down his face and falling onto yours.

Beyond sore, your body couldn’t take him anymore. With tears in your eyes, you begged.

It was all that the beast needed. 

With a great roar, he swelled and twitched inside you and you felt the hot rush of his load sprouting into your accepting womb. Gasping, he collapsed onto your chest and you immediately embraced his trembling, exhausted body and quietly ran your hands onto his back. 

“Mine,” he groaned against your bruised skin.

“Yours,” you answered as he remained buried inside you, making sure his seed dwells there for as long as it needed to be.

_______________________________________________________

[blackcloverfan101]

Mal's Birthday

Mal: Hey E! Do you know what day it is?

Evie: *gasp* Wait that's right! Happy Birthday Mal!

Both: *hugs*

Mal: I knew you wouldn't forget!

Evie: Oh! You need to go to Hades' place right away!

Mal: Why?

Evie: No questions! Just go!

Mal: Ok Ok!

Mal crosses the bridge to get to Hades' lair.

Mal: Hmmm? The door's open...Sus.

Mal walks in the main room to see Hades with a present.

Mal: Is that for me?

Hades: Ofc it is!

Mal: *gets excited*

Hades: Go ahead. Open it!

Mal opens the box and sees...

Mal: *gasp* A skeleton puppy!

Skeleton Puppy: Ruff! *licks her face*

Mal: Its so cute!

Mal: *hugs Hades* Thanks dad!

Hades: Your welcome. Happy Birthday Mali.*smiles*

Mal: *smiles*

Mal: *turns back to the s pup* I'm gonna name you...

Mal: Ember!

Ember: *barks with approval*

Hades: Really? Thats sus.

Mal: *laughs* Oh be quiet.

Mal: *phone rings 'Ways to Be Wicked'* Oh?

Mal: *picks up phone* Its Ben.

Mal: *answers call* hello?

Ben: *on phone* Mal! Meet us at the enchanted lake. And bring Hades.

Mal: Ok! Bye Ben!

Ben: Bye babe. *hangs up*

Hades: What happened?

Mal: He said to meet him at the enchanted lake. Oh and to bring you.

Hades: If he was trying to make a joke, it's not funny.

Mal: C'mon lets go!

So Mal and Hades go back to Auradon to the enchanted lake.

Mal: I wonder why he wanted us here?

Then suddenly...

The Vks, Aks, Ben, Adam, and Belle: SURPRISE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAL!

Mal: *gasp* Guys! I-I don't know what to say! Thank you!

Ben: Happy Birthday Babe!

Mal: Awww Thank you Ben! Thanks guys!

Hades: *gets a little jealous* Hmph

Ember: *gets excited* Ruff!

Everyone:....What is that? *confused*

Mal: Oh right! This is Ember! My new skeleton puppy!

Hades: *very pleased with himself* Present from me. UwU

Everyone: *not surprised* Typical Hades.

Hades: Hey! Its a very good present! Skeleton puppies are VERY rare mind you!

Mal: *laughs* Oh father.

Mal: Now c'mon! Lets celebrate!

Everyone: YEAH!

So they all celebrate, Hades helps Mal cut the cake, and of course light the candles.(cuz ya know, fire powers.) Mal gets a lot of new gifts, a new outfit from Evie, Jay gets her a new watch, Ben gets her a brand new motorbike (with skulls and dragons and little flames on it), and Adam and Belle get her a new crown. They all had a good time.

THE END

[herstarburststories]

Make Me Yours

Day 4 of Kinktober: Body Ownership

Day 4 of Suptober: Branded

Pairing: Michael!Dean x reader

Summary: Michael wants you to be his.

A/N: I swear I'm not that pornography on daily basis I'm even more, but branding is very kinky here. I also strongly support you listening to False God while reading. @itsangelpie @deanmonandnegansbitch, this is the Michael one I was talking about xD

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, p in v, bit of power play, marking, brief fingering, grace

CATCH UP KINKTOBER & SUPTOBER

Michael enjoyed leaving a trace behind like any other powerful celestial.

Once, the loyal son convinced himself that it was because he wanted, not only humans, but his siblings, father, and any other being to know that he could be a savior like he was built to be. No matter what, he was a righteous warrior who would do anything his beloved father wanted him to. He was a perfect soldier, earning nothing but pride and all the head pats possible. 

At least, that was before. It was back when Michael thought that God truly loved him and that he had a bigger purpose than gaining adoration from his fragile humans to overthrow Lucifer — his little brother, the archangel that was thrown away like a rough draft. Now, Michael couldn't care less about living up to his goody two shoes reputation. He didn't care about his brothers and sisters either, much less the humans. The archangel wouldn't say that he hated them like Lucifer foolishly did. His brother was wrapped in a bubble of jealousy that was almost embarrassing. No, breakable things didn't deserve attention. Michael just didn't care about them or their little world. All of his heaven-made goals had melted into one thing to look forward to — getting Chuck back to kill him.

So what if he had to burn a couple of dimensions and their human inhabitants? That was just an unfortunate side effect of Chuck’s little creations being the only thing that could catch his attention.

Burn a book? Get the author’s fury.

Michael was more than satisfied with the idea of leaving a trace of calamitous fire behind. It was such a beautiful legacy that would put fear into the atmosphere of the universe, and Michael would be God. He would be better one — the evolved version of what he’d always been as an archangel.

The torn holes of vulnerability inside of him had only grown wider, gaping into an open wound when his father left him as though Michael were as useless as a broken toy. That wicked, selfish side said it was because he wanted everyone to know how terrible he can be — fear him so no one will ever be close enough to hurt him again. 

Terror had worked better than adoration for millenniums. 

The archangel is good with that. Unlike his father, Michael's ego is as big as the amount of blood in his hands, not the people on their knees or the number of démodé cathedrals to worship him in the name of a bible that he never wrote. He doesn't need humanity’s adoration.

You bit your bottom lip to contain a smile, glancing at him. Michael could read from your mind and erratic heartbeat that you were both excited and curious about what was going to happen. Yet, he didn't need to. He knew your body — that perfect body — very well by himself with no help of his powers.

Correction: he needs one human's worship.

As mentioned beforehand, powerful beings like to leave a trace behind for multiple reasons: marking their territory like a big dog, making a point to gain respect through terror, or boosting their self-confidence. 

“Get on all fours, little one.”

For the first time, Michael wanted to make someone a living reminder of him. He wanted to mark a human for being his: you.

You were obedient, quickly moving to the position that he had asked. You can hear Michael humming in satisfaction, moving in such a quiet way that you almost feel surprised when he placed his hand on your back.

Michael watched your body with care, his fingers dancing with tenderness on your skin. He used to believe that a vessel was everything a human body was worth. Sex was a foreign concept, nothing but an earthling’s attempt not to feel alone — if they weren't fighting, they were fucking. It got boring after the first few centuries.

And then, you happened.

“So marvelous, little one.” His words were laced with gruffness, startling a whimper out of you. “All of this…” He held your waist and pulled you back swiftly. You gasped, feeling his hardness against your ass. Michael didn't slide in, but he kept rubbing himself on you. “All of you…” One of his hands slid down your body, making way for his fingers to catch your sweet spot. You were so warm and wet: there was nothing on Heaven, Earth, or Hell as splendid your needy cunt. “Who do you belong to, Y/N?”

“To you, Michael. I belong to you. Please.” You should be ashamed of begging so early, but how could you judge yourself? Michael's hard cock behind you, making your ass dirty with precum along with two fingers inside your pussy and his possessive words stewing inside your head — you were still just a human, after all. “I need you.”

It was blissful, to have someone he was enchanted by to worship him as the Sabaeans did to the stars.

“Patience is a virtue, little one.” The archangel wore a proud smirk, adding another finger into your wet mess. You groaned in response, pressing your hips to his pelvis in an obvious attempt for more.

Michael's cock welcomed the growing arousal, dropping more precum than before and twitching. It was difficult not to give himself any relief, but he had to teach you a lesson before taking you again. Religion came with strict rules.

He pulled away from you, grabbing your neck from behind only to push your head on the bed. Your cheek to the mattress made it was painfully easy for reality to sink in: the archangel’s fingers on your bare skin, his fingers that were inside you. There was something uniquely blasphemous about sinning like this.

“You take what I give you, and you're grateful for that. Understood?” He howled, tightening his hold on you. “I picked you.”

“Yes, master.” The two words fought to leave your mouth before ultimately escaping. You know you should be afraid, but your soul refuses to welcome any feeling other than excitement. Michael didn't even use his grace yet. He wouldn't hurt you: at least, not enough for you to suffer. Everything he did to your body was a blessing.

“Good.” He exhaled, letting go of your neck. The archangel had been way too patient, and you waited long enough. You dared turn your head to look at him, and Michael was divine. His gorgeous body was crouched with his knees on the bed while he patiently observed you. His length was large and rock hard against your leg. You just wanted to give him release. “Like what you see?”

You gulped, nodding furiously. The archangel chortled before he slid his cock inside you without any other warning.

You let out a shamefully loud scream. What else could you do? His cock was fucking its way inside you, cleansing your body with the prayer of being everything you could ever need or want: to feel holy, to feel full. Michael grunted, grabbing your hips to pull you closer, and you moved back and forth in sync with him. Soon, the bed was the one clamoring with noise. Both of you became hollow when you were like this — hungry, craving for something to fill up your empty pieces.

Michael was the right hand of God, the protector — whatever treasures he chose to deify would be eternal because he could make it happen. And for Heaven, he adored you.

His cock found your G-spot, and his grace flooded into your veins as if it was meant to be there. Your walls were tighter and tighter around him, and you couldn't wait to feel his load inside you, marking you from inside. There was a wash of glowing pleasure in your body. You had never felt so light before. This felt like the precipice of your glorified religion, and God, you could make a church out of this.

“That's it, my love.” Michael moaned, his eyes bright blue as he fucked himself into you. You bit the pillow to keep another scream down. He squeezed your waist. There was something burning in your bones with a painful pleasure as his hand glowed. He was branding you as his, writing his symbol all over your soul, bones, and heart. And you were enjoying every single ache of it. “Cum for me. I want to hear you coming for me.”

He may be a false god, but he certainly brought you to heaven.

Your lips parted into a moan as your juice came all over his pulsating cock, and Michael came inside you in a rush. Everything hurt as if he had rearranged your bones, but it was as comfortable as if they were all snapped back together in the right places. You fell on the bed out of exhaustion, wondering if you'd live to see another day. All of you seemed to be on fire, much more than the other times. Your pussy was pulsing, and you could smell him all over your skin. He had made your body his. You were his.

Michael pulled away from you, a lopsided grin on his lips as he glanced at his possession. The archangel laid down, pulling your tired body to him. You clung to Michael while trying to breathe properly. What had just happened?

“Wh — What was that?”

“I marked you, little one.” Michael gave you a devilish grin while his eyes shone a dazzling blue. He was the apocalypse of your soul, and you couldn't wait for the sweet destruction. “Now, everyone will know that you are mine. Your pussy, all your body, and your soul. You belong to me, Y/N.” He had everything now. The world and you. He was ethereal. “I'm your god now.”

You made an altar out of him, and you'd always be a loyalist to this love, no matter the sacrifices you'd have to do for this. 

Leave a comment and reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my day 1,2&3 of kinktober & day 3 of suptober, and my masterlist ♡

Dean's sweethearts: @akshi8278 @hardcoresupernatural

Hunters: @demonhunterbarbie @bi-danvers0 @emilyshurley @desimarie12

Kinktober taglist: @psych0crybaby

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[fictionadventurer]

Fairytale retelling: Genderswapped Cinderella

The Golden Shoe

Once there was a princess who was her father’s only heir. When she came of age, a series of balls were held, and the man she would choose to wed would become her country’s next king. Every man in the kingdom, from peasant to prince, was invited, but the princess was pleased with none of them.

Late in the evening, a stranger arrived--a handsome youth, fair to behold, in garments that seemed woven of the light of the stars. For the rest of the evening, the princess would dance with none but him. His manners, his kindness, and his grace impressed her deeply, but before she could ask his name, the great castle clock began to chime the midnight hour. Her partner made his excuses and fled from the ballroom, and though the princess pursued, he had disappeared down the palace stairs by the time the twelfth bell tolled.

The stranger returned to the next evening’s ball, wearing clothes that seemed to glow with the light of the moon, and once again the princess danced with no other. Whispers raced through the ballroom. Who was he? Where was he from? Some claimed him he was a foreign royal, others said he was a notorious outlaw, and still others said he could only be a prince from among fairy-kind. Though the princess stayed by his side all night, she could not pry from him a single answer.

Once again, when the clock struck twelve, her partner began to flee. The princess held his hands and begged him to stay, but he told her that she must allow him to leave before the toll of the midnight bell. When she asked him why, he gave no answer, but fled down the stairs and disappeared so thoroughly that none among the palace guard could find him.

The next morning, the princess spoke to her godmother about the mysterious stranger. Tonight would be the final ball, and there was no other man that she so wished to marry. But her godmother advised her this would not be wise. He could be anyone--an enemy prince, a wicked enchanter, even a beast in human form. If the princess wished to find the truth, she could not let her partner flee at midnight. On her godmother’s advice, the princess ordered that the great palace staircase, down which her partner always fled, would be spread with pitch, in the hopes that it would hold him fast and break whatever spell hid his secrets.

At the final ball, the stranger appeared just as before, in clothes so grand that they seemed to shine as bright and golden as the sun itself. The princess had never been so charmed, or so in love, and she could not even think of another partner. The hours slipped away, until at last the palace clock began to chime twelve.

As before, her partner fled, but this time, his shoes caught in the pitch on the stairs. One foot came free, and the shoe stuck to the stairs, but the other foot remained stuck fast, and there, the princess saw, he still stood when the twelfth bell tolled.

His golden finery faded, leaving her partner clad in ragged clothes. “What have you done?” he cried. “Now I am lost without hope.”

He was prince of a far-off land, and his stepfather was a wicked enchanter, who wished to take the prince’s country for his own two wicked sons. He had kept the prince in ragged servitude, but his power could have been broken if the prince had come to this ball and won the princess’ heart, so long as no one knew his name or nation and so long as he did not stay past midnight. Now he would be taken back to his nation, hidden away among the people. No one would know his name or his face, and none would find him, until the stolen shoe was back upon his foot and the princess claimed him as her beloved.

With that, the prince disappeared, leaving the princess with nothing but a golden shoe stuck to the stair.

Thus the princess journeyed across kingdoms trying the shoe upon every man she met, but finding none whose foot it fit. At long last, weary and ragged, she came upon a cottage in the wood, where lived a young man. His manners were charming, and the princess thought that at last she had found her beloved. She asked him to try the shoe, and when he put his foot within, it fit perfectly. She shouted for joy, and begged him to return to her kingdom with her, where she could claim him as her husband and break the enchanter’s spell.

But as they traveled down the dusty road, a bird fluttered overhead, and bade the princess look again. There was blood in the young man’s shoe, and it fit only because he had cut off his toe. Then she knew him for the enchanter’s son, and fled from him down a dark and lonely road.

There she wandered for days, lost and afraid, until she came upon another cottage. Here she found another young man, kind and fair of face, and her heart rose with hope that she had found her beloved at last. His foot fit within the golden shoe, and she bade him come with her out of this dark forest. They had not gone far before another bird whispered warning, and the princess saw that blood filled this man’s shoe as well. He had cut off part of his heel to fit within the shoe, because he was not her beloved at all, but the enchanter’s other son. The princess fled from him, and was soon lost in the darkness of the forest.

She wandered until she was nearly dead, until at last she came to a tiny hovel in the middle of the woods. There she met an old man, who nursed her back to health and asked to know her story. She told him of her quest to find her lost prince, and he told her that she would surely not find him in these dark woods. No doubt the enchanter held him close to the palace, but the old man promised to show her a path that would take her there, far away from this dark and hopeless forest.

The princess thanked him for her help, but as she was about to take her leave, she saw footprints in the ashes of the hearth. “These are not yours,” she told the old man. “There is another who lives here.”

“It is only my servant,” the old man replied. “A ragged wretch who gathers food and cleans the hearth.”

“All the same,” the princess said, “I should like to try the shoe upon him.”

She followed the ashy footprints until she found a young man in a dirty corner of the kitchen. He was covered in cinders from head to foot and did not speak a word when she asked him his name. Yet she slid the shoe upon his foot and found it fit perfectly. Then her eyes were opened, and she recognized the young man who’d won her heart those months ago.

The old man roared with rage--for he was the enchanter himself--but though he tried to pursue them in the forest, the birds came down from the trees and plucked his eyes from his head, and he could follow them no further.

The princess brought her prince back to her kingdom. She declared before her court that she would marry him and no other. Then his rags and cinders became golden finery once more, and all knew him for the mysterious prince who’d come to the ball. Soon, they were wed and their countries were joined, and if they have not died, they may be living still.

[nerdypanda3126]

Playing with Fire – Ch. 4

Luka's friend comes to visit and brings with him something that will help Marinette and Luka share the fire without having to touch each other, but it has an odd side effect for Marinette—she realizes that she likes being close to Luka, and what's more, he likes being close to her, too.

Okay so, if you haven't already, please please pretty please go read The Great and Powerful Sorcerer Stone by the lovely @verfound. I leaned pretty heavily on it to write this chapter (and it's a really fun read 😁)

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

When they walked out, Marinette didn’t see anyone, but she did hear a steady string of curses from somewhere near the tree line, along with a tree creaking under weight it wasn’t meant to hold. Luka snickered again and told her to wait as he pulled away, transforming instantly and prowling towards the racket. 

“We talked about the booby traps, kid!” The voice grouched, clear enough for Marinette to hear. There was a quick snap of rope, another yelp, and a thud, quickly followed by Luka’s hissing laughter. 

“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. What took you so long, anyways?” 

Luka loped back into view, leading an odd looking man with bright purple hair stuck up in all directions, metal looped all the way up his ears, flowy black and violet harlequin robes over black and yellow striped hose, and an angry scowl. He was rubbing his backside, as if he’d fallen on it. 

Marinette’s face flamed into a blush when she noticed the direction they were coming from and figured out what had happened. The snare she’d set up. Luka’s friend had triggered it and gotten stuck in the tree. But her blush cleared and a grin broke across her face instead as she realized who it was. 

“Jagged!” She ran towards him and hugged him tightly around the waist. 

“Hey! It’s the baker’s girl!” 

He returned her hug and swept her off her feet to spin her briefly as she giggled the whole way. Just like every other time he’d come into the bakery since she was almost fourteen years old. He’d become a family friend after he helped her parents put out the fires—figurative and literal—between her and the mayor’s daughter. 

He only stopped through the village occasionally, but every time he did he always bought up enough bread to feed an army, tucking it away into enchanted pockets. And he always had the best stories, even if he insisted on singing some of them along with his “cursed” mandolin that never sounded quite right. She’d grown to love it though, and she liked to think it was a sound from some other world. 

Luka snorted, engulfing them both in a plume of smoke. Marinette waved it away from her face as Jagged set her back on her feet. When the smoke had cleared, Luka was scowling, but not at her. At Jagged. He had a challenge in his eyes that Jagged waved off along with the smoke. 

“What, you think I made all that bread I brought you?” 

“That was for Luka?” Marinette asked brightly.

 “Course! Case you hadn’t noticed, he’s a scrawny little thing. Gobbled it up as soon as he saw it, every time. A’int that right, kid? And the questions! You wouldn’t believe, he’d pester me until I told him all about—”

Another snort, laced with sparks this time, was aimed at Jagged. He danced away, patting out the embers that landed on his robes. 

“Geez! Don’t have to get all moody on me. How’s that for gratitude, eleven years I've been bringing you anything you ever asked for, taught you everything you know, never asking for nothing in return, you think you could say thank—” He cut off with a yelp as Luka sent another shower of sparks his way. 

Marinette rushed to Luka and threw her arms around his neck, cooling his fire. He was still irritated, but he put his arm around her waist, returning her embrace as if to let her know it wasn’t directed at her. 

“You’ve never had an issue with the plundered gold I gave you, either, so don’t act all innocent,” he grumbled at Jagged. 

“Gave being the key word there.” Jagged snapped back. “These were new, too!” He whined, pointing out the scorched holes his trailing sleeves now sported. 

“Serves you right. Eleven years and you still haven’t learned not to taunt a dragon.” 

Marinette glanced up at Luka and he was smirking, apparently pleased with himself for ruining something of Jagged’s. Almost like this was an entirely normal interaction for them. 

“Guess you don’t want what I brought, then? Fine, I’ll just be on my merry way.” Jagged spun on his heel and made to walk down the path. “Bet the king could pay better for all this junk anyways, I mean, not that he needs it, but, hey, if you don’t want it…” 

Luka sighed and shook his head. “Whatever you’ve got, I’ll take it.” 

Jagged stopped mid-step, but didn’t turn around. Luka’s grip tightened on Marinette’s waist. 

“I’m sorry about your robes,” he added, begrudgingly. “I’ll give you a little extra to have them mended.” 

At that, Jagged spun back around, grinning, and pulled his mandolin off his back. The neck had cracked in half, apparently as he’d fallen from the trap, and his grin slipped to an almost comical grimace as he brandished it at Luka. 

“This! This is why I said no more bloody booby traps! Can’t you just burn ‘em to a crisp and be done with it? Ya great, overgrown lizard, I swear, every time I've got this thing just the way I want it you just—” He kept muttering to himself as he fitted the wood back together carefully. When he took his hands away, it was magically all in one piece again. He shook the repaired instrument at Luka as if it were a sword instead of a piece of hollow wood with strings strung across it. 

“You’re lucky this wasn’t my neck!” 

Luka squeezed her to his side again, and his wicked smirk had come back. “Well, at least this time, I wasn’t the one to blame.” 

Jagged’s eyes and the makeshift sword snapped to Marinette and she blushed all over again. “It was meant for a rabbit,” she muttered. 

For the first time, Jagged seemed to realize how close they were standing, and the way their arms were looped around each other’s waists. 

“I told you, kid! I knew she’d stay! And you were worried, psh, I’ve known the baker’s girl too long. She couldn’t slay a butterfly!” 

Luka tensed beside her. “She hasn’t made any decisions yet, Jagged.” 

Jagged just shook his head at Luka, grinning, and dug in the neck of his robes to produce two silver chains, with smooth matte black stones dangling from them. “I’ve been saving these for when she made it up here. Don’t ask me how I got ‘em—” he tossed a wink at Marinette at that “—but they’re very special.” 

He set his mandolin on its end and admonished it to stay and it stood on its own, upright, at his side. With his hands freed, he carefully pulled the chains off his neck and laid the gems in his palm for them to look at. 

“Heartstone,” he announced proudly. “Best thing for a soul bond like the one you’ve got. It’s one stone, split in two, so they resonate with each other.” 

“Jagged—” Luka warned, right as Marinette asked, “What do they do?” 

“Well, since you asked,” Jagged said pointedly, shooting a glance at Luka before continuing. “They act as a sort of container if you will. Makes it so you don’t have to cling to each other for dear life like that.” 

He slung one chain around Marinette’s neck and pressed the other into Luka’s hand since he refused to bow his head to let Jagged put it on him. As soon as the stone touched Luka, Marinette’s flames were pulled into her half of the stone so it crackled happily at the base of her throat, and there was a bright blue glowing underneath Luka’s fingers, too. He shivered as his scales slid over his forearms, but he stayed on two legs. Marinette pulled away from him gently, more to test the heartstones than from a need to separate from him. 

Even though they weren’t touching, they stayed the way they were. 

“They work!” She shouted, more from surprise than anything else. 

Luka was gripping the stone in his hand so hard his knuckles were white. “She hasn’t made her decision, yet,” he said quietly, although there was danger hidden in his low tone. “Jagged, you can’t just—” 

“Sure I can, m’b’y!” Jagged stood in between them and clapped Luka on the shoulder. “We’re friends, after all, ain't we? I can be generous every once in a while.” 

“Luka, if you don’t want them—” Marinette started. 

“It’s not about me, Marinette,” he said, still in that small, quiet tone. “It’s never been about me.” 

Jagged rolled his eyes and clapped Luka on the back of the head, making him stumble forward before he turned to glare back at Jagged, his eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Jagged examined his nails nonchalantly.

“It’s a gift,” Jagged said, with a threat laced through his casual tone. “Take it, leave it, hurl it into the woods if you want, makes no difference to me.” 

Luka’s eyes slid over to Marinette. She was standing behind Jagged, watching the two of them face off with her hand over her mouth. He glanced at the gem hanging around her neck, then back up to her face. Something vulnerable was flickering across his expression despite his tense posture. Hope? Fear? He was so closed off that she couldn’t tell which. Maybe a little of both. Afraid to get his hopes up. 

“I’m staying,” she said, loud enough for them both to hear her. “My decision is made, Luka, I want to stay with you.” 

The fight drained out of him and the tension between the two of them dissipated as quickly as it had started. Jagged pulled Luka into a quick hug, ruffling his hair as he did, then let him go to grab his mandolin. 

“Great! That’s all settled, now we can celebrate!” He tuned it to whatever incorrect notes he seemed to deem appropriate before he started yowling along to it, partly singing, partly shrieking. Marinette winced as Luka gravitated back to her side. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he murmured in her ear. His hair was sticking up where Jagged had mussed it. With a grimace, he put the chain around his neck to match her. 

She reached up to run her fingers through his hair to fix it. When his eyes met hers again—those serpentine slits in the center of that bright blue—the fire around her stone sputtered erratically at the same time her heartbeat kicked up a notch. She pulled her hand away shyly. 

“Taking time to think about it wouldn’t have changed my decision. And Jagged meant well, I’m sure. These do really seem to help.” She looked down and slid the pad of her thumb over the smooth black stone. The fire played over her fingers as she touched it, but stayed contained. 

He hummed in response and turned his eyes back to Jagged’s performance. He was going on as if he were playing for the whole village, even though not even the two of them were listening. There was an odd sense of peace that had washed over Luka. Like her decision was the last thing keeping him on edge and now that she’d made it, he could let himself relax. 

His words from the other night came back to her. “I’m still half-expecting you to murder me in my sleep.” Teasing in tone, but a grain of truth had been nestled within the joke. She wondered if he had even been planning on fighting back had she decided—

Resolutely, she reached out to loop her arm through his so she could lean her head on his shoulder. Like the other times she’d shown him affection, he stiffened at first, and she felt him look over at her. But then he laid his hand over hers and sighed against her. 

When the sun was starting to set, Jagged finally laid his mandolin aside and pulled a veritable feast out of his enchanted pockets, complete with a grass-stained blanket that he laid out for them as if he’d done it thousands of times. Marinette sat close to Luka, still not entirely trusting the heartstone, but the blanket didn’t burst into flames and neither did she. She giggled and looped her arm through Luka’s again, leaning into him because she could and not because she had to. Luka’s mouth twitched into what could’ve been a smile and his thumb skated across the back of her hand gently. 

But when she caught sight of the bread Jagged had brought with him, stamped with a terribly familiar signature, her breath hitched and Luka tensed up again beside her. 

“You saw my parents?” she asked quietly. 

Jagged shared a loaded look with Luka and they had a silent battle between them. Luka shook his head the slightest amount and Jagged frowned. 

“I did,” he answered her. “They’re all good, even managed to teach me a thing or two while I was there. Although…” He trailed off, breaking the bread between them as he did. 

“What?” Marinette asked. Luka’s hand wrapped around hers and he gave her a small squeeze. “What’s wrong?” 

Jagged glanced up at Luka one more time before he met Marinette’s eyes. “They’re in mourning.” 

“Mourning? What—” She felt her eyes widen as she caught his meaning. “They don’t know I’m okay. Luka, they don’t know!” She shook his arm frantically, but he was as unmoving as stone. 

“The tailor’s boy seems to have a notion of avenging you.” Jagged was speaking to Marinette, but his eyes had flicked over to Luka’s. “Some misplaced version of chivalry or valor, but he’ll be making his way up sometime soon.” 

A heavy pall fell over the two of them. Marinette looked between them, aghast, and the happy blue flame consuming the stone at her throat turned white and started crackling. 

“But we can talk to him!” she cried, startling them both. “He’ll see I’m okay and I can explain and he won’t come here and Luka won’t have to—” She sucked in a sharp breath. 

“Marinette—”

She shook her head. “You can’t, Luka.” Her voice broke on his name and he grimaced again. “He’s my friend, and he doesn’t know, and… you just can’t.” 

She fought against the tears that were gathering at the corners of her eyes, glaring at him fiercely instead. He looked from her to Jagged. Jagged just shrugged, and Luka sighed. 

“You’re right. And I won’t. I promise.” He squeezed her hand again to emphasize his point. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes before he spoke again. “We’ll go to your parents. Explain things. Hopefully stop your friend from doing anything he’ll regret. And then we’ll come back here.” When his eyes opened again, they fell on her, and even though his gaze was filled with warmth and certainty, it was almost like his features were drawn tight. “Okay?” 

“Thank you,” she said, and she stretched up to kiss his cheek. He jolted when her lips touched his skin, and she pulled away, blushing, but he kept his hand wrapped around hers and gave it another squeeze to let her know it was okay.  

Jagged cleared his throat, but he was smiling as he started yammering on about other things. Some of it Marinette understood, but Luka was right, he talked a lot about the things he’d “Seen.” As he strummed at his mandolin, even in between bites of their supper, he ranted to her about “perfume ads” and “charts” and “baby-faced newcomers”—whatever any of that meant. 

Luka smiled at her and gestured with his head. She held up the sign he’d shown her and Jagged seemed to like it because he stood and started playing his mandolin in an odd, fast, shrieky way she’d never heard him do before. When he played like that, the out of tune notes almost blended together and sounded… okay? If she listened with a kind of mental squint, that is. 

After supper, Jagged pulled more things out of his pockets, this time a bundle of books that he’d thought Luka would like and new clothes, although he apologized to Marinette that he hadn’t brought any for her. She shrugged and told him that since they were going to the village anyways, she could pick up a few things while she was there. Luka subtly pressed some gold into Jagged’s palm as they shook hands and Jagged grinned, tucking the coins away without saying anything about it. 

As Luka rattled off his list for next time, Jagged winked at Marinette when he mentioned pillows. She blushed all the way to the roots of her hair. 

The moon was out by the time Jagged was leaving the clearing, and he waved back at them before he disappeared into the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a branch thwacked against something solid and a loud twang of strings echoed through the clearing, followed by Jagged’s cursing. 

Marinette hid a giggle behind her hand and Luka chuckled with her. An awkward silence followed as they both paused to look at each other. The stone at Luka’s throat cooled to a dull red, flaring orange in time with his heartbeat as a smile warmed his expression. At the same time, hers flared white as that smile made her stomach do a little flip. 

He tucked the bundle of books and clothes under his arm, then threw out a hand for her, inviting her to take it, and she did. Although when his fingers laced through hers she felt like she’d swallowed a thousand butterflies. Every step up the tower made her blush more, but she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. The only thing she could blame it on were the stones around their necks, making their connection blatantly obvious. He’d said it before, they shared the fire, and he’d helped her channel it before, but this was… different. 

Maybe because there wasn’t a need for them to be holding hands anymore, but she realized that not only did she still want to, but apparently so did he. 

When they reached the room at the top, he set the bundle down on the chair before he turned to her and slid the chain around his neck up over his head. He held onto the stone, though, as if asking if it was okay if he broke the resonance between them. She gulped and nodded. He set it resolutely on the table, where it became a lump of black stone again and her fire fled from her and arced across to him as he transformed fully. 

Her hand was still on what was roughly his shoulder and he let out what she felt was a sigh, then settled into what she recognized as his sleeping position. Curled tightly around himself, but with a small space now for her to step into. She was kneeling next to him, hesitating, when he looked over at her expectantly. He blinked at her, and the tuft of hair at the end of his tail flicked against her ankle. She didn’t know if it was because she’d spent some time around him, or if the heartstones had deepened something between them, but she understood that he was asking if she was okay. 

She looked away to hide the blush that crept onto her cheeks as her fingers dug into the thicker scales at the back of his neck. When another concerned flick ghosted across her skin, she shivered before she took a deep breath and smiled at him, settling into place in the curve of his stomach while also pushing a small, insistent thought to the back of her mind. 

“Different,” it whispered, “Something’s different.”