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crimsonbubble · 8 months

Note

no bc just imagine how sexually frustrated miguel would be after chasing you around like cat and mouse… the breeding has entered the chat

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, breeding kink, creampies, hair pulling, degradation, overstimulation, a bit of manhandling, improper use of webs *not proofread, just pure horny

[I want him so bad why can't he be real 😔😔😔]

MINORS DNI!!

he's getting tired of this, but your pretty eyes and soft lips draw in him each time he swore that he wouldn't fall for your games. as tired as he is, he always lets you get away with it.

letting you get away with it a little too easily. though now he's stopped his chasing, trying to keep himself occupied to stop himself from playing into your games. he can feel your eyes on him, burning into his back as he continues working through anomaly reports.

as you tried to sneak up on him, you felt something spread across your chest, wrapping around your arms. with a sharp tug, miguel pulled you into him. you collided with his chest, a hand holding his webs and a hand on your lower back. you struggled against the webs, only making him spread more around you.

miguel quickly tugged your mask off, a smirk playing on his lips as he saw the shock written on your face. "not so tough now, huh?" you struggled against the webs again, trying to pull yourself away from him. "don't try and run from me now, you earned this."

miguel let out a grunt, pushing you up against his desk. he pressed a heavy hand to your back, webbing your wrists together. with little to no care, his talons rip through the crotch of your spider suit. the cloth is torn to shreds on the platform. "you've been nothing but a pain in the ass,"

miguel takes in the sight of you bound in crimson webs and bent over his desk. "a real thorn in my side." you try to peer over your shoulder only for miguel to press your head down to his desk. "we're not done til I say we're done." he disengages his suit with a flash, grinding his throbbing cock through your folds.

"you're lucky I'm even letting you have my cock." he says this yet he's just as needy for you as you are for him. the back and forth, the pushing and pulling, the cat and mouse games; he loves them but sometimes all he really wants is to web you up and fuck you til your legs give out.

and that is exactly what he's going to do. miguel lets his own fantasies and desires lead him, letting himself act on his impulses. miguel bottomed out in one sharp thrust, your walls convulsing and tightening around him as he fucked you. each thrust was heavier than the last, hips hips knocking you up further onto his desk.

with the hand pushing your face into his desk, he's tangling his fingers into your hair, pulling your head back as he rocked his hips into yours. you can't get words out because of how rough his pace is. miguel set a hand on your hip, using it to pull your ass back on his dick.

every thrust in and pull back forced his cock deeper, stretching your walls to accommodate his size. you're practically seeing stars shoot across your vision, mouth hanging open with each moan and cry that leaves you breathier than the last. with how easily miguel is leading you to orgasm, you know that you're not getting out of this for a while.

"only the first and you're already this fuckin' messy, huh?" the condescending tone makes your pussy flutter, as miguel tracks a finger over your pulsing clit. he rubs circles against the throbbing bud as you tumble head first into another orgasm. "m-miggy-" the words are caught in your throat, being passed by lewd cries and heavy moans.

your slick is gushing around his cock, and the wet noises of skin on skin finally make it to your ringing ears. miguel pushes your head against his desk again, grunting as he speeds through his release. it's a flood of warmth as miguel keeps his pace, groaning as much cum spills out of you. "fuck, look at you. such a messy little thing."

you can't tell up from down as miguel guides you to another orgasm. you're trying to alleviate the heavy plows of his hips by raising to your toes, but it only motivates miguel to go even harder, as if he's trying to knock the sense out of you. your eyes are blurring with tears, the stinging of the overstimulation starting to bite.

in a feeble attempt at pushing miguel away, he pins your wrists against your back. he uses it as more leverage to pull you back on his cock, letting another heavy load paint your walls white. "it's okay, take it just like that." the moans he's letting out are deep and guttural, a noise you would've missed if you weren't being drowned in his mere presence.

you're struggling against the webs again, the tingle of the overstimulation reaching new heights. miguels superhuman nature granted him increased stamina and endurance, making it easy for him to ride out his second high while you're crashing through your third. "c'mon now, is that all you got?"

you outwardly whine at his words, pushing your hips back to meet him halfway. miguel leans down, his chest to your back as he kisses up your neck. his fangs pushed against your skin, lightly grazing it with a featherlike pressure. it's as if he's teasing the idea that he could sink his teeth in. he very much could but he wants you to feel everything that he's doing to you.

he's got you trapped, and he doesn't intend on letting you go any time soon.

#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #bubbly writes <3 #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #miguel x you #miguel x y/n #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel o'hara imagine #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x y/n #spiderverse smut

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emry-stars-art · 4 months

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@neilimfinejosten said coffee shop au last month so you’ll never guess what I’ve been thinking about

A few thoughts under the cut!

Andrew works at a coffee shop in a college town, so far with all the foxes except Aaron, and Neil’s been far away on the run. I’ve been putting Robin in this one and I bet Seth hangs around the shop for Allison. Aaron will pick up a shift or two but mostly he’s focusing on school.

Anyway one day in a cold winter a new guy comes into the shop looking to warm up, and Andrew just happens to be working the register (rare). It’s hard to tell with the mask, but this guy doesn’t seem to be much older than him or the team, and Andrew can catch glances of bandages and band-aids under his clothes.

He becomes a regular through winter, but none of the baristas can decide on his name because he gives a different one every time he comes in.

#I couldn’t help the joke I had to make the gag about Andrew getting distracted and spilling coffee #which is much more likely to happen later on when Neil becomes Neil #but shh #got some more stuff I wanna draw #I won’t be writing this out though lol #at least not yet #this one remains sketches 🙏#and random thoughts #fan art #my art #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #coffee shop au #digital #at least the first one is #thank you ash for bouncing ideas with meee

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escapenightmare · 1 year

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soft n pouty bf nagi <3

"you forgot something," nagi mumbles from behind you.

"what?" you ask him as he wraps his arms around your waist from the back, resting his chin on your shoulder. he had stopped you at the door a second before you were about to leave, telling you that you had forgotten something. "what is it?"

he holds out a book in front of your face, "book."

"oh shit," you quickly stuff it in your bag, escaping from his lingering touch. "thanks sei."

"you forgot something else too."

his drowsy voice makes you stop again and let go of the doorknob, groaning. "what now?"

"kiss."

"bro." you deadpan, turning around to face him and his little unconscious pout. you quickly press your lips to his, "okay?"

"that wasn't meaningful," he narrows his eyes at you, looking sleepy even though he'd been awake for an hour already. his hair was all messed up, more than it usually was, sticking out in all ends and looking all soft and fluffy, just like him.

"sei," you groan again and kiss him once more, making it last longer than the previous one. "happy?"

"no," he lightly huffs, his hand reaching out and grabbing yours with a more defined pout.

you narrow your eyes at him the way he did at you earlier. "why?"

"’don't want you to leave," he said softly, pulling you to him with your hand and wrapping his arms around you once again.

"but i have to go, sei," you tell him, lifting your hand to stroke his hair.

"why?" you could literally picture him stomping his feet like a child. "return the book tomorrow?" he suggests.

"the due date's today," your hand is still stroking his hair and he leans into your touch, face relaxing and eyes closing.

when he speaks again it's almost in a whisper, "just for a little while?"

you think about it. if you stayed for even just five more minutes, you'd be smothered with affection and attention, pulled onto the couch for cuddles, probably get so caught up in the moment that you'd forget you had to leave in the first place.

or, you could leave right now and come home to a poutier and more affection-seeking, drunk on not having your love seishiro.

"...?" even his silence looks like he's asking you a question.

"what?" you reluctantly ask.

"don't go," he says, voice drowsy and as soft as could be. "just for a little. ’swear." a pause before he adds, "please."

your heart almost shatters at how broken he sounded, and you let him know your answer by wrapping your arms around him in a hug. "okay. but only for a little."

he eagerly nods, tugging you to the couch and sitting down before pulling you on top of him, hugging you close to his chest. you could hear his steady heartbeat as he looked down at you with nothing but pure love in his eyes.

"so," you start, maintaining eye contact. "what's wrong?"

his long legs tangle with yours and he seems to hesitate before he answers, voice as gentle as it was before. "just missed you."

"hm?" you brush a few locks of his hair away from his forehead and look down at him. "we were together the whole day yesterday."

"i know," he replies, hand on your back and thumb tracing random shapes that you could feel through your shirt.

a circle.. a six... an eight.. a square...

nagi lets out a soft and content exhale. "i like it when it's like this." his eyes sparkle a little and his lips curl up in a small smile. "when it's just the two of us."

you snuggle closer to him, letting him lean his forehead on your shoulder as he hugged you tighter. "me too, sei."

unsurprisingly, you fall asleep, wrapped up in nagi's arms and warm and comfortable hoodie.

only for a little while my ass, you thought when you woke up again.

he's setting a mug containing your favorite drink down on the coffee table in front of you.

your eyes immediately wander to the window and you sigh, it was dark outside.

the library was closed now.

"here," your boyfriend hands you a book, sitting down next to you and cuddling up to you.

your eyebrows furrow, it was a book in your reading list.

"i went and returned the book for you," nagi says. "and got that."

you brighten up with a grin, "thanks, sei." your hand moves up to pat his head a few times and he pouted when you put your hand down.

there's no words exchanged as he curls up to you, and you wonder how someone could be as cute as he was in this moment; hair messed up more than ever, eyes sleepy and half closed again, drowning in an oversized hoodie and lips forming a tiny 'o' shape because of.... well, you had no idea.

you bring your free hand up to his cheek and smile. his hand comes up to hold yours as he nuzzles into your palm, eyes affectionate and loving, pout no longer visible on his face.

"i love you," he mumbles, leaning down and slowly kissing the corner of your lips. "a lot."

you gently smile, "i love you too."

nagi pokes the book in your hand, "read to me?"

"always."

#ー branded by ash.#first time writing for bllk pls forgive me 💀#blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro fanfiction #seishiro x reader #nagi x you #nagi drabble #blue lock nagi x reader #blue lock drabble #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #nagi seishiro

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achenetype · 2 months

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the place i left behind — luke castellan // explicit

luke is on the run. things would be going perfectly if only he could stay away from you.

pairing: luke castellan x reader

word count: 2.1k

content: smut/explicit content, oral (f receiving), slight choking, coming in pants, afab reader, unclaimed reader, weed mention, a bit of angst but it’s all for the plot

🎧: the place i left behind by the deep dark woods

it was a bad idea for luke to come back to camp. you knew it; he knew it better. returning after what he had done wasn’t just stupid — it was a death sentence.

but here he is, tapping on the window of the cabin you used to share.

you meet his eyes through the warped glass and his face curls upward into a lazy smile. hey, he mouths. it knocks the wind out of you, sudden and disarming; seeing that familiar grin makes your chest ache.

“hey,” you whisper back, knowing he can’t hear you. hoping he can read your lips, knowing you won’t get your breath back until you can see him face-to-face.

outside? luke says, gesturing to the door of the cabin. moonlight falls in bars through the windows, illuminating a stripe across the worn brass doorknob.

you nod. the simple motion makes you nauseous. this isn’t safe. you’re going to get caught. you’re going to get him caught, and then—

you’re standing in front of the door before you know it. cold brass meets your fingertips and you bite your tongue, pretending you don’t feel how your hands shake as you turn the knob with a soft click.

outside, it's hot and humid. the air seems to hang in place for a split-second before luke is on you; his arms wrap around you and his face finds a home in the crook of your neck. this close, you can feel him breathing, feel the muscles shift as he inhales and exhales.

your fingertips roll over luke’s back — over his deltoids, those powerful ropes of tissue hooked into the bones of his shoulders. you joked about him being missing a pair of wings before, but that was before this.

before you could feel exactly how much potential he had shifting under his skin. before he squeezes you and murmurs into your pulse, “shit, angel, i missed you.”

hearing that nickname from his mouth feels like someone has ripped a hole in everything you are. luke smells like sweat and sunscreen and just a hint of weed smoke, and he missed you.

“i missed you too,” you breathe, and luke reaches up to hold your face in his hands. his forehead presses to yours, his dark curls damp against your skin. the bridge of his nose brushes yours, quick, barely-there.

you pull back, lacing your fingers with his, and he follows. it’s almost like nothing’s changed, you think, the two of us sneaking out, the closeness. the rhythm between the two of you picks up just like it would any other day.

except luke’s hair is longer, creeping uncut towards his eyes, and there are new scars on his hands and his back. there’s a knife on his belt and the outline of a gun — a mortal gun — silhouetted through the white fabric of his tank top, the metal of it still cold despite being pressed against his stomach—

you wonder if he knows how to use it. if he had lined up a shot, pressed the barrel against someone’s chest or forehead or the underside of their chin, and pulled the trigger. you wonder how luke’s face would look spattered with blood.

you wonder how it would feel to wipe that blood off of him with your fingertips or a wet rag, sitting with his knees bracketing your hips, just like every other time you’d cleaned him up.

—and luke had never held you like that before; like he was afraid to lose you before you could even say one word to him. like crushing you to his chest would keep you there forever.

“why did you come back?” you ask, praying that he won’t say what you already know.

luke sighs and rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “you get right to the point, dont’cha?”

his voice is teasing, low enough that a few of his words blur together. y’get right to the point. his thumb moves in twisting, concentric circles around the ridges of your fingers. his eyes dart up to yours.

luke reaches to cradle your face again, his knuckles grazing your cheeks as his palms flatten, one at a time and molasses-slow, against your jaw. “i wanted to see you,” he says.

there it is.

you step back and luke follows, matching your steps until you feel the rough-hewn stone of the cabin wall against your back. “you shouldn’t be here,” you whisper.

that lazy grin finds its way onto luke’s face again. “what, you scared?”

you don’t respond, and luke tangles his fingers in your hair before pulling your forehead back to rest against his. “hey, are you— are you scared of me?” his voice falters; his thumb moves in tiny circles at the junction of your jawbone and your neck. he frowns. "angel, c'mon," he whispers.

you shake your head. tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you bite the inside of your cheek hard enough to bleed. “i’m scared for you,” you breathe.

you reach up to cup luke’s face with your hands, mirroring his posture. “but i’m not scared of you.”

slowly, you wrap your fingers around luke’s wrist and drag his hand away from your face. his fingertips run down your neck, across your collarbones. his hands linger for a split-second longer around your chest before his palm flattens against your stomach and he leans forward.

luke stops at the loose hem of your camp shirt. “can i?” he murmurs, hooking two fingers under the fabric. his thumb resumes its movement over your hipbone, calluses catching on the exposed strap of your underwear.

“can i,” he repeats. “please, angel?”

this is a terrible idea. luke tried to kill you. he tried to kill your friends. he nearly started a war between the gods. he’s a traitor, a walking betrayal.

luke is your best friend, and you have missed him more than anything.

the soft yes barely leaves your mouth before luke steps forward that final inch, caging you against the wall.

his hands slip under your shirt and pull it over your head, leaving you only briefly self-conscious before he finds your mouth with his. he kisses you hard, bruising, biting at your bottom lip. he makes a sound low in his throat, pulling you impossibly closer.

“i missed you,” he murmurs in the tiny pockets of air between your kisses. “fuck, angel, i missed you so much.”

“i know,” you say. i missed you too.

luke presses kisses to your lips and your cheeks. your jaw. the bridge of your nose. please stay.

he buries his face in your shoulder and laves his tongue over your pulse, drags his mouth from your neck to your collarbones to just above your navel. in his wake, a trail of reddish-purple bruises unfolds under your skin.

luke speaks in half-caught sentences into your skin. “i’m so sorry,” he whispers. “i miss you so much— so much, i’m sorry, angel.”

when he finally sinks to his knees in front of you, his lips slightly parted and his breath coming in shallow gasps, luke lets his head drop to rest against your hip. his pupils are blown wide, swallowing the brown of his irises with desperate, inky want.

“lemme taste you,” he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your exposed hip and stomach. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows and continues murmuring into your skin.

your hand finds purchase against luke’s collarbone and slides to rest against his throat; you match his jugular vein with the junction of your thumb and your palm, stroking the sides of his neck gently.

his breath catches, his heartbeat fluttering wild and needy against your fingertips. you half-expect him to pull away or to move your hand and continue kissing his way down your body.

instead, luke tips his head back that extra inch, his gaze flicking up and down before finally holding yours. his eyes are glossy and his mouth is open. his chest heaves against your thigh, trying and failing to control his breathing.

“are you sure?” you ask softly.

luke nods so feverishly that you worry his head will split from his neck. “c’mon,” he murmurs. “you know i wouldn’t ask if i didn’t want it.”

you do know, and it’s for that exact reason that you slide your thumb over luke’s adam’s apple again, pressing down just enough to make him gasp. it’s a broken, strangled sound, breathy and rough, and he sings it into your hipbone as he drags your shorts down your legs. the fabric pools around your ankles, and luke closes what little space is left between you in an instant.

he hooks his fingers under the sides of your underwear, toying with the lace idly as he mouths at the ruined fabric covering your cunt.

“gods, luke,” you say softly, tangling one hand in his sweat-damp hair and tugging. it’s more to test the waters than anything, but luke groans and shifts underneath you, and—

—and he’s hard, rolling his hips into nothing, chasing friction that isn’t there. his eyes, half-lidded and glassy, meet yours. you shiver — luke’s eyes are dark and intense, barely containing the want that lights up both of your bodies.

gods, he’s pretty like this, too, you think. who knew boys could look so good on their knees in the dirt?

luke pulls your underwear to the side and presses a quick kiss to your clit, mumbling in half-sentences as he laves his tongue over your soaked cunt. “my darling,” he breathes, dragging his hand up your thigh and reaching between your legs, sliding two fingers into you easily. “my angel, my everything.”

you rock your hips against his face, tightening your grip on his hair — which must be crossing some wires in his brain, because he shudders and points his tongue, flicking it against your clit as he curls his fingers.

“luke,” you gasp, tension building in your stomach. “i— i’m close, luke, please.”

luke looks up at you and smiles. you can feel his dimples against your inner thighs for a split second before he doubles down on his efforts, licking and sucking until something inside you snaps and you cum with a stifled moan, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

between your legs, luke licks his lips. “beautiful,” he says. his voice is raspy and he takes a deep breath, in-out, in-out. “there’s my girl. there you are, baby.”

you slowly sink to your knees next to him, your heart thudding against your rib cage like a trapped bird. “luke,” you whisper.

“yeah, angel?” he asks, wrapping one arm around you and tugging you closer. his fingers trace unseen patterns on the expanse of your thigh and you shuffle closer still to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. you can taste his sweat, electric and desperate. the smell of sex is probably all over both of you.

there’s a dark spot on the front of luke’s shorts and he tenses up when you slide your hand up his thigh. “did you— just from that?” you ask.

“oh, shit,” luke says, looking down. “uh— fuck, angel, i—”

“it’s okay,” you say, leaning forward to press your forehead to his again.

he sighs, tangling his fingers back into your hair. “i know.”

the two of you stay like that for what could have been minutes or hours before luke presses a kiss to your jaw and murmurs, “i have to go.”

something in your chest twists. the words slip out before you can stop them: “i don’t want you to.” you press your nose into luke’s hair and inhale the smell of sweat, of smoke. your fingers find the straps of luke’s tank top. look at this barrier. look at what’s keeping you apart.

“you know i can’t,” he murmurs, and you swear the crack in his voice breaks your heart all over again.

"i know," you say, tucking your head into his chest. "but i don't want you to go." you look up.

luke's eyes sparkle, brilliant and terrible, and when he kisses your forehead you can feel tears landing in tiny constellations across your head. "you deserve better," luke whispers. "better than me. than all of this."

do i? you ask yourself. and: do i want it?

when luke kisses you one last time and stands, drawing his sword out of nowhere, you know it as well as he does: you don't want better.

when he leaves — when there is nothing for days, when your dreams are haunted by the memory of his lips against yours and the smell of his hair, you know.

you only want luke.

#ash writing #pjo #pjo imagine #pjo x reader #pjo smut #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #reader insert #reader imagine #x reader #fem reader #fic writing #Spotify

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stil-lindigo · 8 months

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little dove.

a short comic about Ash and Snow's first meeting / how Snow got her nickname.

Snow's story

Ash’s story

notes:

all my other comics

store

#cw: animal death #cw: blood #i think after this ash goes back home and finds herself thinking of snow more and more #while snow returns to her own kingdom and forgets much of this encounter until ash reaches some renown as a monster with a blade #after which snow becomes extremely fixated on her and remembers her as the girl who watched her bury a dead bird in a flowerbed #lesbian first dates be like #anyway #i like the irony of snow's nickname being little dove seeing as how shes not exactly a very peaceful person #although she may seem like it on the surface #shes kind of difficult to write too. ive gotta balance her veil of innocence with genuine sincerity #the fact that she believes her own delusions is what makes her such a fun character #one day ill move on from these characters but i love my homicidal daughters very much #thank you for reading #sapphic art #comic art #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics #heartearters

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gardenpatchbaby · 6 months

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I am so sick of fic writers making 10-year-olds talk like babies.

I work with children and have taken numerous classes on adolescent development. Here's some of what I learned because I might actually kill someone if I read another fic where an older child is essentially a four-year-old. (No hate to anyone in particular. Children are confusing.)

(Slight trigger warning for 13 & 14 year-olds. Puberty/sex mentioned)

(Most info is from Chip Wood's Yardsticks: Child and Adolescent Development Ages 4-14)

#writing #writing tips #writing prompt #children #steven universe #tanjiro kamado #naruto uzumaki #harry potter #ash ketchum #vanellope von schweetz #dora the explorer #bluey heeler #eri #bingo heeler #tw sex mention

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taifenggg · 1 year

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Lovestruck[Demon Bros]

Things the bros do because they're simps for you.

CW: mild cursing

Characters: GN!Reader(no pronouns specified), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Authors Notes: I actually have a huge amount of requests for my other accounts but since I’m impulsive and have no sense of impulse control, I made another writing account for the sole reason that I wanted to ramble about Obey Me LMAOOO

[Dateables Here]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

He listens to you, even when he's busy

“Luciferrr,” you poke your head into his room, after knocking on his door. You stroll in taking in the sight of a somewhat disheveled Lucifer, sitting behind stacks of paperwork. A few buttons at the top of his shirt are undone and his tie is loose around his neck. You resist the urge to stare longer than you need to, turning away and plopping down in one of the armchairs in his room.

“I’m busy.” Although his words are blunt, there’s no actual malice behind them. You take that as a sign that since he didn’t actually tell you to leave that it was okay for you to stay. You lean over the side of your chair, sighing somewhat dramatically. “You’ll never believe what happened earlier.” And soon, you find yourself rambling about your day to Lucifer, speaking whatever comes to your mind. Every time you glance up at Lucifer, it seems as though he’s busy with whatever paperwork he’s subjecting himself to, but you ignore it and continue speaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer had actually stopped quite a while back ago, he was busy staring at the same line again and again, but somehow he couldn’t find the urge to continue working when all he could focus in on was your voice. His finger tapped absentmindedly at his pen as the edges of his lips quirked up every so slightly finding the way you were sprawled over the chair somewhat amusing.

Mammon [💰💛]

He’ll do something with you, even if he’s inclined not to

“D-do we have to do this?” Mammon’s hand squeezed yours tightly and you could feel how clammy it was against yours. You pouted at him, your lip jutting out, “Mammonnnn come on, can we please go into the haunted house? It’s supposedly much scarier than last years!” Your expression softens as you watch him visibly stiffen at the prospect of going in, “Well on second thought-”

“Nono, lets do it. T-the Great Mammon will protect you from anything that jumps out at us!” He points at himself, puffing his chest out to make himself seem more imposing. You resist the urge to laugh at how goofy he looks despite the fact that he’s clearly scared shitless. “Okay, okay,” you reach over to ruffle his hair, hoping that in doing so could help alleviate some of the nerves he was feeling.

“Oi, what’re you doing?” Mammon’s face flushes, but he doesn’t stop you, and instead leans into your hand more. Giving your hand one more squeeze, he charged towards the haunted house with you in tow. Needless to say the both of you spent the entire time clinging to each other when you're in there.

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

He has a playlist of songs that reminds him of you

“Levi, I just listened to that one artist you recommended to me, and I gotta say, their songs are absolute bangers,” You grin at him, “You have really good music taste!” Leviathan blushes from the compliment, turning to the side, “Well they actually dropped a new song recently, let me share it with you, I have it in my playlist.” He pulled out his D.D.D to open his Devilfy, scrolling through the numerous playlists that he had.

His finger pauses in its scrolling as it hovers over a certain playlist titled, “My Henry.” He glances up at you, feeling himself grow flustered as he quickly looks away once more, typing in the song instead of trying to scroll and find it and sends it to you. “Thanks! I got it!” You beam at him, shooting him a thumbs up from where you’re seated, and putting in your earbuds to stream it.

He’s grateful he made the playlist private, lest he deal with any questions from your end.

Satan [😾💚]

He sees parts of you in characters in his stories

“What do you have there?” you peeked over his shoulder, draping your arms over him. If it were any of his brothers, he would have found himself snapping at them and pushing them away, but since it was you Satan found himself leaning more into you touch. “A book I recently acquired,” he smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“Mhmm, anything interesting?” You absentmindedly traced the outline of his fingers with yours and Satan swore he could feel his heartbeat going faster. “Well, in a way the main character of this book is kind of like you. They’re kind, and they’re not afraid to stand up for what they believe is right,” He chuckles softly, turning the page with his free hand. You deadpanned, shaking your head, “You’re just describing every generic, heroic main character out there.”

Satan paused, setting his book down slightly as he turned to look at you, a gentle smile on his face. His hand reaches up, brushing your cheek, “I suppose, but they are traits that define you as well.”

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

He’s always seeking to try things with you

“Y/N! There’s this new café that opened up near Ristorante Six, want to come try it with me?” Asmo grabbed your arm, hugging it tight, almost as if he was afraid you would slip away from his grasp. You turned to face him, laughing softly as you transferred his hand into yours. “Didn’t you just go there the other day?” you teased him lightly.

Asmo pouted slightly, holding onto your hand even tighter, “Since the line was so long I didn’t get to try everything that I wanted to because they were limiting the number of items a single customer could order, that’s why I want to bring you with me! Plus it’s super pretty there, pleaseeeee?” You held his gaze, your resolve wavering slightly, you had planned on doing something else but seeing how badly he wanted to go you couldn’t help but relent.

“Alright, alright, of course I’ll go,” you laughed lightly. Asmo’s face lit up upon hearing your answer, tugging you along with him, “Great! I have a few other things planned out, so hopefully you don’t mind if I steal you for a few hours~”

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

He seeks out your opinion before deciding on anything.

“Bloody Terrine, Deep-Fried Devil Zebra, Devildom Stir-fry with Toxic Chameleon-”

“Beel you’re drooling,” you laugh softly, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. He takes it from you, his stomach rumbling from the thought of what he wanted to eat. “Y/N, what should I get?” His eyes focus in on you after a few seconds of staring at the menu. “Huh?” you’re slightly startled from his sudden question. “You should get whatever you’re feeling Beel, I mean you’re the one eating it.”

Beel shook his head, continuing to hold your gaze, “I want to hear your thoughts as well,” a slight flush dusts his face, but it’s barely visible. You smile softly, looking up at the menu, thinking for a second. “Mmmm well you got Bloody Terrine yesterday, and Deep-Fried Devil Zebra a few days before right? Why not get the stir-fry?” Beel takes in your thoughts, thinking on it for a moment before beaming at you, “Okay I’ll do that, thanks Y/N.”

Belphegor [🐮💜]

He prioritizes your comfort over his own

Belphie opened his eyes slowly, a smile finding its way onto his face as he stared at you, asleep next to him. However that smile soon turns into a frown as he studies the way your face is scrunched up, almost as if you were having a bad dream.

Belphie gently untangles himself from you, brushing a hand over the top of your head. Almost immediately, your face relaxes and you let out a puff of air as you slip into a more comfortable slumber. Belphie continues brushing his hand through your hair, carefully so he wouldn’t end up waking you up. Sure he was tired, but he would have rather helped you than just leaving you to fend for yourself when it came to the nightmares that plagued your sleep. His tail curls around your leg comfortingly, holding you in place so that you don’t end up rolling away but at the same time you’re still near him.

Belphie sighs softly as he settles back down next to you, rearranging his limbs so that they weren’t in your way. Although it wasn’t the most comfortable position, it was better than nothing.

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ashtxrie · 1 month

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incognito mode (heeseung)

PAIR. classmate!heeseung x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, implied strangers to lovers WORD COUNT. 1.0k WARNINGS. none! IN WHICH: heeseung receives drawings from an anonymous admirer who decides to not be so anonymous anymore...

heeseung finds the first drawing when he opens his locker, a yellow post-it note among his books and papers. he doesn’t think much of it, not until he pulls out his textbook and it flutters to the ground, landing near his feet.

there’s something on the back, so he bends to pick it up and freezes. there’s a raccoon staring at a hamster opening up his locker, a small speech bubble above the raccoon.

i wish you’d notice me...

heeseung smiles despite himself, tucking the note back into his locker.

he finds the second drawing when he’s standing in line for coffee and rummages in his pocket for spare change. he finds two five-dollar bills, and absent-mindedly hands them to the woman with an outstretched palm, who then hands him his drink.

heeseung is more interested in the slip of paper he feels tucked and folded in his pocket, and he quickly thinks back through his entire day and realizes he has no idea how someone’s managed to put it there.

he pulls it out as he takes a sip of his coffee, hissing as it burns his tongue.

the drawing’s cute, it’s a raccoon staring at the same hamster with hearts in their eyes.

heeseung looks at it for a few moments, then folds it back up, sticking it back in his pocket. he doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he catches sight of his reflection in the windows, and thinks he looks uncharacteristically happy.

the third drawing he finds is during class when he flips his textbook open, frowning as he notices something tucked in one of the chapters in the back of the book. he flips forward, eyes widening as he sees another post-it note.

it’s the same raccoon, staring at the hamster curiously. there’s another thought bubble hovering over the raccoon.

do you like the drawings? i wish you’d talk to me.

heeseung smiles and holds the drawing closer, turning it around to see if there’s any trace of the artist. there isn’t, and heeseung frowns.

how am I supposed to talk to you if I have no idea who you are?

the fourth drawing is tucked into his palm as he’s passing through classes, and heeseung whirls around, eyes wide.

“wait,” he calls, but he doesn’t know who he’s talking to, doesn’t know who to look for.

he’s met with blank faces of people walking past him, and his face falls.

he was so close. so close to figuring out who it was.

he moves to stand somewhere near the edge of the hallway, unfolding the paper. he stares at it for a while, folding and unfolding the paper.

the drawing’s split into two halves. on one side the raccoon presents the hamster with the drawing, beaming. on the other half, the one heeseung has been staring at for minutes, is of the raccoon hiding behind a wall and watching the hamster opening the paper.

heeseung sighs, then sticks his hands in his pocket and walks outside.

the next week, heeseung seems uncharacteristically quiet, and he looks at the first drawing he’s taped to the door of his locker.

he doesn’t know why he’s kept it there, but somehow it makes him feel a little less lonely. he supposes it’s because he hasn’t gotten a drawing in a while.

he frowns as someone bumps into him, and heeseung drops his books. he grumbles and reaches to pick everything up, frowning as he searches for the drawing he’d been holding in his hands.

his eyes widen and he swallows. he didn’t lose it, did he?

someone clears their throat and heeseung looks up, curious to see the person who’d bumped into him holding his last book and the drawing in their other hand. “here,” you say, “i'm sorry.”

heeseung blinks, then breathes out in relief. “thanks.”

you smile warmly, then point to the drawing that heeseung is nearly cradling. “did you draw that?” there seemed to be a knowing lilt in your voice, but the boy in front of you doesn't quite catch it.

heeseung looks up again. “oh, this?” he shrugs. “no, i’ve just been finding them everywhere.”

you laugh. “do you like them, at least?”

heeseung smiles, and part of him is wondering why the hell he’s talking so naturally to someone he’s barely even met. but he does. “yeah. although i’m offended that i’m a hamster.” he grins. “i think i’m more of a deer, at least.”

you laugh again, and heeseung thinks he could talk to you forever. “a deer,” you shake your head, eyes curved to crescents. “okay.”

heeseung stands up again. “i’m heeseung, by the way.”

you smile, and heeseung thinks your eyes are rather pretty. “[name]. i’m [name].”

when heeseung sees the fifth drawing, he loses his shit. he opens up his locker and sees another drawing folded so small that heeseung doesn’t see it until it falls out. he picks it up, his eyes widening.

the raccoon is laughing as the hamster puts deer antlers on its head as a headband.

you’re still a hamster, it says in the text bubble above the raccoon.

heeseung walks out of school late, and pauses as he sees you lingering by the bus stop, standing up to stare at the vending machine.

heeseung can feel his breath in his throat, feels the drawing clenched between his fingers, and he marches toward you.

you turn at the last second, eyes warm. there’s a moment of surprise as you see heeseung, and he thinks you nearly look scared.

but heeseung pulls you toward him and wraps his arms around you. he hears your small gasp of surprise, before you hug him back tighter. so he figured it out, huh? took long enough.

"it was you?" he says, softly. tentatively, as if afraid he was wrong.

you hum and smile at him. "you found me."

"and for the record, you'll always be a hamster to me. you were the sad hamster personified when the teacher said you couldn't eat your instant ramen in class last week."

"i-- hey! ... whatever. at least i look cute in your drawings."

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen blurbs #enhypen fic #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fluff #heeseung fic #ashtxrie #— ash writes!

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alastrrz · 1 month

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i’m in desperate need of reader having feelings for alastor but instead of telling him she completely distances herself (idk why but im obsessed w this concept)

I JST READ SOMETHING VERY SIMILAR TO THIS so i'll definitely be basing this piece off of this by @princekeerys !

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ﾟ。 away from you ; alastor x reader

　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

genre/type: fluff/comfort, blurb

Over the course of the several months you'd been in hell, a few things have happened. The literal Radio Demon was the one who found you when you arrived in hell, and upon seeing how scared you were, offered for you to stay at the Hazbin Hotel. You've learned a lot about Alastor, you even became one of his closest friends. Or, more so, someone whose presence he didn't hate.

Among these few months, you also happened to learn that Alastor is on the aroace spectrum. Which means, in layman's terms, he doesn't regularly feel romantic or sexual attraction. Which was terrible news for you. After learning that, you started distancing yourself from Alastor. He'll admit, it left him confused. He was actually starting to miss your company.

You took lengths like staying on the complete opposite side of the room he'd be in, not making eye contact with him, and you also stopped giving him his daily 'Good morning!'. It made him a little sad. You were going to do everything in your power to put your silly crush on the back burner, just to make him comfortable.

Eventually, a couple weeks passed, and Alastor was pretty upset that he basically hadn't seen you at all. He showed up at your bedroom door, almost knocking it down. You scrambled out of bed, opening the door. "Hi! Uhm, oh! Alastor!.." You weakly smiled, not looking him in the eyes.

He sighed, his eyes showing a bit of disappointment. "You can look me in the eyes, you know. Have I done something wrong, my dear?" He questioned, walking into your room. You shook your head, "No.."

"Then what ever is the matter? Why is it you're avoiding my every move?" He tilted his head, leaning on his staff. You groaned, might as well rip the bandaid off. "I know you don't romantically like people! I don't wanna bother you with my stupid crush on you!"

Alastor was honestly stunned for a moment, his eyes blankly staring at the top of your head. "If you're mad, you can just say that." You spoke, turning your back to him.

"Oh, sweetheart, why would I ever be mad? Your presence is quite literally the only one I enjoy in the hotel! I've grown to be a touch sad without you around, actually." He spoke honestly, putting a hand on your shoulder. "We can talk more details later, but for now, please stop distancing yourself. I miss you, sha."

#ashe's writing #hazbin #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x reader comfort #alastor x reader fluff

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ashanimus · 1 year

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Fanart from @carpisuns's seriously adorable fic, the Death Defying Flirting Methods of Willow Park!

#toh #the owl house #toh hunter #hunter noceda #willow park #toh willow #huntlow #the owl house fanart #carpisuns #sorry this is so late omg #everyone if you haven't read the fic please go check it out it's adorable #I actually squealed #in the meantime enjoy my horrible left handed writing #fairytalesandfolklore #lollytea #thank you both for the consulting help :v #ash art

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asoftepiloguemylove · 1 year

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everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it

Frank Bidart The Third Hour of the Night / Ashe Vernon IT'S A CIRCUS AND WE ALL PAID TO BE HERE / unknown / Rachel Swirsky A Memory of Wind / unknown / unknown / @borzoidaily

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crimsonbubble · 7 months

Note

Cod men being absolute munches please ❤️❤️

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, oral, overstimulation, panty stealing (dont ask pls im depraved), beard burn, scent kink of some sort *not proofread, just pure horny

[BRB LOSING IT RN]

kinktober masterlist

MINORS DNI!!

ghost is messy and kinda pervy. like he'll keep his mask on when he tells you to sit on his face type messy. will not take the mask off until you've soaked through it but you can feel his tongue push against the rough fabric as he bumps it against your clit. he has definitely used the soaked mask as fap material when he's away from you. though he's not opposed to stealing your panties if his masks aren't available to him.

if ghost was messy, then soap is sloppy. he's doped out on your taste and scent. he just wants all his senses to be you. loves to squeeze your hips while your push his face closer against your pretty cunt. once he starts, he won't stop. he just thinks you always have too much on your mind, so he's doing you a favour and making him the only thing on your mind. also, you just look extra pretty when you're tearing up sensitivity. loves how you can't tell if you want to pull him closer or push him away.

price is so so attentive. he's peering up at you as he sucks your pretty clit into his mouth. makes your thighs clench around his head just because he loves seeing how easily your body reacts to him. also loves to hear you complain that your skin is raw and sensitive but then again it is unbelievably hot to see your captain's beard dripping in your arousal.

gaz loves to have you sit on his face. literally smother him, it's what he wants. heavily encourages you to ride his face as you please. grabs your ass like he's getting paid to do so. can not and will not keep his hands off you. if you offer to suck him off, good god he'd make sure to give you the most mind blowing, toe curling, gut wrenching orgasm ever.

alejandro loves control, but he's always willing to sacrifice it for you. he'll let you take the reigns; want to sit on his face? he'll happily lie down for you. want to have him on his kness? he's already there. while his mouth is busy working on your sticky cunt, his hands are roaming all over you. it's like he's trying to commit the curves and slopes of your body to memory.

rudy is a certified lover boy. literal hearts in his eyes when he's needy for you. wants, no needs you to sit on his face. he just wants to feel your thighs on him. holds your hips down on his face so he can tongue fuck you and bump his nose into your clit.

horangi downright abuses your sweet little clit. he can't help it, you make the sweetest noises when he overstims you. he'll pin your hips down on the bed so he can trace his name on your clit with his tongue. loves to hold eye contact with you when he goes down on you. def the type to stop when you close your eyes or look away.

konig forces you to put your weight down on him. don't just hover on him. sit on him. full weight. doesn't matter if he can breathe or not. though he prefers to situate himself between your thighs with his hood on, so you can't see what he's gonna do. once you cum on his face, he isn't letting you go until you do it again. forces your body to move along his face so he can continue to please you.

keegan finds it more amusing to just pull his mask up over his nose to eat you out. simply bc he can't be bothered to take it off completely. he's a clit kisser. and he makes out with your pussy too. sitting in his office chair while he's kneeling under his desk so he can eat you out. loves to finger you while he kisses and licks your clit.

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illyrianbitch · 4 months

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Beneath the Ashes of Our Broken Oaths

Pairing: Morrigan's Sister!Reader x Azriel

Summary: After abandoning the refuge of Velaris, you, Morrigan’s twin sister, returned to the forsaken Hewn City fueled by a vision for a better future. Now, your estranged family seeks your help when rumors of rebellion spread at a time of utmost inconvenience. Torn between your anger and a desire to protect the good, you begrudgingly agree and are forced to face memories of a past life and the unsettling presence of Azriel– the first man you ever loved.

Warnings: ANGST, Helion being compassionate and its sexy, Inner Circle slander (sorry feyre baby), Y/N is kind of a bitch (but its warranted and a slay), family trauma.

Word Count: 2.9k

Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It was Helion, the High Lord of Day, who had seen the flicker of hope in your eyes. A man of discerning wisdom, he recognized your yearnings of a better world. He knew you, he knew your heart, and he trusted your vision— with the promise of your support shall he need it. You knew that your support, in the grand scheme of things, meant nothing to Helion. He had always held a heart of gold, of understanding, and he would have helped you without anything in return. But you had insisted, declared that you needed to give him something to thank him. Your support, he had agreed on. It was all you had left, anyway.

Now, you stood before him, pleading. Your chest was tight and a calm panic filled your veins. You needed to act. You needed to keep things in place.

"Helion, please," your voice, normally composed, now carried a tremor, a plea that hung in the air, reeking of desperation. Low light poured through stained glass windows as the sun slowly set, painting a kaleidoscope of muted colors on the marble floors.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth, held a regretful sympathy.

"Y/N, I wish I could," He replied, his voice caressing the air, "But with the current state of affairs and your father’s growing paranoia, it's too risky. I can't jeopardize my people. My help is needed elsewhere."

Approaching you, he extended a large hand, gently cupping your chin, his touch reassuring and pained. "Give me some time, sweetheart."

Desperation deepened in your eyes, and the intensity of your plea swelled. Aching with fear and worry, your gaze remained locked on his. "I don’t have time. Hewn City corrupts swiftly. You know this.”

Helion sighed, a sound filled with a blend of both compassion and helplessness. "Perhaps you should reach out to Rhysand. His influence might help, now more than ever."

Yor felt a bitterness surface, like bile rising through your throat. A soft scoff left your mouth as you roughly pulled Helion’s hand away from your chin, withdrawing from his touch in offense. "Rhys had a chance to help. He didn’t. He couldn’t care less. I won’t go crawling to him."

Helion's gaze softened, a tender response to your rough tone. He let out a sigh and pulled you close to him once more. His touch sent a wave of comfort through you, something that happened often when you visited him to discuss these things. Helion was a man who loved physical connection— you didn’t mind it. It made you feel seen, understood. Now, you craved that feeling more than ever.

"I don’t understand this contempt you hold. Surely they will want to help you. They miss you."

You rolled your eyes at this. Of course Helion would think so. As much as you trusted him and his admiration for you, he always did love your family. Your sister and your cousin would always be in your life, tied to you in one way or another. Frustration tinged your voice.

"It's too late. Going to Rhysand now would draw unwanted attention or, worse, he’d halt my efforts because of some perceived danger."

There was a moment of silence, and your eyes bounced around the room, searching for somewhere to land that wasn’t Helion's burning gaze. Once more, he moved a hand to gently cradle your face.

"You cannot foresee every outcome. You're not a mind reader, Y/N."

A bitter laugh escaped you, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "I might as well be when it comes to family."

"You've accomplished so much. Allow yourself a reprieve. You can't bear the weight of the innocents lives in Hewn City alone."

You blinked away the tears that welled in your eyes as you admitted, "I can't afford to stop. If I do, they'll think I've given up."

"No," Helion asserted, his voice unwavering. "Your dedication is commendable, but you need to care for yourself. Let me help you."

You bit the inside of your cheek as you stared at him, his brows furrowed slightly and a sad smile on his face. He moved his hand once more, gently tucking stray strands of hair behind your ear. Then, he ran a finger along it, a soft caress carried by a weight of understanding. You shuddered at the lightness of his touch.

"Stay, Y/N,” He suggested, his voice smooth and low, “Let me be a distraction. You take care of others; let someone take care of you."

You leaned slightly into his caress, feeling the warmth radiating from his hand. A fleeting sense of comfort teased at the edges of your weary soul. Yet, reality swiftly reasserted its grasp, and you gently withdrew, a soft sigh escaping your lips.

"I appreciate the offer," you murmured, your voice tinged with regret. Your hand delicately intercepted his, guiding it away from your cheek. "But I can't afford the luxury of distraction right now."

He acknowledged your decision with a small nod.

“I wish I could do more for you."

A tender smile found its way to your lips and you held his gaze for a fleeting moment of gratitude.

“I know.” You replied before you winnowed away, leaving the luminous embrace of the Day Court behind.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You were on edge. You had been for the last few weeks. Now, after failing to convince Helion, you could feel it catching up to you, a dark hole forming in the pit of your stomach. It felt like you were being swallowed alive, eaten by your own anxieties and fear. But you didn’t have time for this. You couldn’t risk falling apart, becoming vulnerable. No, not at a time like this.

You had mastered the art of drowning your thoughts, of discarding the weight that threatened to pull you under. Tonight would be no different. The impending storm would be weathered, as it always had been. You would begin to drink your worries away, give them time to manifest, and then shove them away into the crawlspace of your mind, free to collect dust and rot away.

You moved toward a small table where a simple platter of dark amber liquid awaited. Your fingers tightened around a small crystal glass as you poured. As the first sip touched your lips, you felt the familiar burn, a welcomed distraction. The amber liquid offered solace, if only for a fleeting moment.

And then, you stilled. The creak of the floorboards behind you announced their presence, and you felt it—a pricking at the base of your neck, the subtle disturbance of the air as someone entered, no, appeared. Your body tensed instinctively, shoulders rigid, as you ceased your movements. You took a moment to compose yourself, closing your eyes and inhaling deeply-- a futile attempt to ground yourself.

You downed the drink, the warmth spreading through your veins, and set your glass down, a definitive thud echoing in the silence as it met the table. You turned around slowly, the ever-present undercurrent of anxiety beneath your skin momentarily masked by a face of composure. The simple décor of your home surrounded you—the tattered tapestries, broken furniture—all a testament to a life you had built in the aftermath of your return. One that lacked the color that you once held.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Your voice, laced with both mockery and a hint of something darker, hung in the air.

In front of you, Rhysand stood tall and proud, a figure of authority. His eyes, once familiar and comforting, now held a look determination. His gaze held yours strongly, and for a swift moment, you saw them soften. But the tenderness quickly dissipated, his eyes narrowing with a slight tilt of his head. You ran your eyes along his face, then down his form, taking in the detailed and intricate patterns of his clothing— an embodiment of Night Court royalty. Then, you looked at him again, your jaw clenching. It had been a while since you looked into his eyes, a violet color deeply embedded into your mind. For a moment, his presence consumed your thoughts, distracting you from the other man that you felt in your home.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see the dark figure stepping out from the corners of your room. A darkness licked at your skin.

"Hello, Azriel," you acknowledged him, your eyes remaining fixed on Rhysand.

Azriel's presence was a dark whisper. The edges of your room seemed to blur with shadows as he stood there, a silent observer.

"I’ve come to request your help," Rhysand's voice cut through the stillness, his words carrying the weight of urgency.

Your response was swift, dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, that's rich."

The corners of the room seemed to darken further as Rhysand's frustration manifested in the clenching of his jaw. The subtle play of shadows accentuated the lines on his face, revealing the strain of a desperate plea.

"Please hear me out."

You shook your head. They shouldn’t be here. This was risky, dangerous. You needed them to leave. They needed to disappear, to let you go and never find you again. That was the only way you would be able to survive.

But every fiber in your being was screaming to do the opposite, to embrace your cousin and explain to him, tell him everything. You wanted to get on your knees and beg for the kindness he always showed you, to ask him about your sister. For him to tell you about his life, his love, his child. But you couldn’t. And from inside you, your heart tugged you to Azriel, his stoic form. You couldn’t look at him, couldn’t bear to catch his gaze. It was all so wrong. This disconnect, this anger you felt for them, for your situation, for yourself… it was eating you up. But this wasn't the time. So you pulled your thoughts together and focused on the one thing that had never let you down: your fire.

You reminded yourself of the resentment you held, deep down. Reminded yourself of how they had failed you, separated themselves from you, your vision, and the suffering of the good people here, in Hewn City— your city. Rhysand's city.

Ignoring his original words, you looked at Rhysand with the hint of a wicked grin on your face.

"Where’s your child bride? I heard she’s reading at the same level as your babe. You must be overjoyed."

Rhysand's expression tightened, anger simmering beneath the surface. The mention of his mate touched a clear nerve, and for a brief moment, you reveled in the discomfort you had caused. It was a twisted satisfaction, a way to regain some sliver of control in this unexpected encounter.

His temper flared, a fleeting glimpse of vulnerability replaced by a presence of anger that you knew all too well. He bit down on his frustration, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure. But you pressed on.

“I’m only kidding, take a joke, Rhysand. 500 years and you still have the emotional regulation of a teenager. Nice to see some things don’t change."

Rhysand's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and confusion, observing you and your wall of icy nonchalance. His name sounded foreign on your lips, spoken with such malice and distaste. Even the last time he had seen you, during a bloody war against Hybern, you had not been so venomous. This was a fact you both thought of as you stood here, now, in front of one another again. You moved gracefully through the room, ignoring their presence, and opened a small box that sat on your table. The delicate aroma of sugar wafted through the air. You took a seat.

Azriel and Rhysand exchanged glances. Your fingers idly played with the box, an ornate creation that held delicate, candied treats. With an almost casual indifference, you brought one of the sweet confections to your mouth, savoring the taste as if the weight of their presence meant nothing to you. You could feel the tension building in the atmosphere, heightened by their growing sense of agitation and frustration. It radiated off of them like heat. You welcomed it with open arms, like a freezing child in the cold.

"These are the loveliest desserts,” You explained, bringing the candy close to your face with an examining eye, “Hard to come across here. But I know a guy.”

“Want one?" you offered, dropping your candy back into the box and extending it toward Azriel, whose stoic expression remained unchanged.

"What? Doggy can’t take a treat?" You taunted with a measured smile. You didn’t miss the slight flare of his nostrils, or the way his shadows began to snake up his arms, angry and riled up.

A tense silence lingered as Azriel remained perfectly unmoving, his eyes holding a depth of attentiveness that made you uncomfortable. But the discomfort within you sought distraction, and you continued with your mockery. You waved your hands in the air as a dismissal.

"Bah, you guys are no fun."

The room felt charged as you baited them, your attempts to deflect the gravity of their visit becoming slowly evident in every casual gesture.

Rhysand's frustration reached a boiling point, and he took a step forward, shifting the conversation.

"We didn't come here for sweets and jests. We came for you."

You chuckled, a sound that held a bitter edge. "Me? You must be desperate, Rhysand."

A flicker of hurt crossed his eyes, swiftly replaced by a steely resolve. "There are rumors of rebellion here,” He took a pause, glancing around the room as if he was contemplating continuing. He spoke again, “But, I'm dealing with a larger threat that has me on the defense. I cannot afford an uprising."

Your laughter cut through the air like a blade. "Is the idea of civil unrest among your people an inconvenience? My, what an issue, must be terrible."

Rhysand's patience waned, his features hardening. "Stop this, Y/N. We need your help to prevent a disaster."

You leaned back against your furniture, your eyes narrowing as you regarded him with a chilling indifference. "I've heard nothing about any unrest. You've wasted a trip."

Rhysand's gaze bore into yours, an unspoken challenge. "Azriel has been in Hewn City, gathering information. He's heard the rumors. I know you're lying."

In that moment, a silent battle waged within you. The desire to help, to make a difference, warred against the fear of exposing yourself to the dangers lurking beyond your sanctuary. The memories of the past, the reasons you returned, echoed in your mind. You wanted to help, but you knew their presence could unravel the delicate life you had crafted.

Rhysand's voice softened, a genuine plea beneath the layers of frustration. "Y/N, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t serious. Why do you refuse to acknowledge that?"

Then, his eyes softened, sensing a crack in your facade. Inner turmoil clouded your eyes as you locked gazes with him. The conflict within you played out in the subtle tremor of your fingers, a telltale sign of something bubbling beneath your icy exterior. But as quickly as it manifested, you shut it down, fast enough to resolve Rhys of his attentive eyes. He swallowed and fixed his composure.

"Azriel has gained information that it's not just a rise against me. There are whispers of a rebellion against Keir himself. I need you to listen for information from your father."

Your father. A wave of nausea rippled throughout your body and you clenched your jaw in response. The title sounded strange coming from Rhysand, a stark reminder of your place here, of your place in his family. No, no. You thought. I will not let them see me falter.

Rhysand continued, "Azriel has gathered intelligence, but we need someone on the inside. We need you."

A cynical smile now played on your lips as you taunted them, "Maybe it's time for a change. The mighty High Lord struggling to keep control – how novel."

Azriel, who had maintained a cold silence until now, spoke up for the first time, taking a heavy step forward towards where you sat.

"We both know you do not mean that."

You turned your gaze to him, eyes dark. "And what do you know about what I mean, Azriel? You don't know anything about me."

Rhysand put a hand out in front of Azriel’s form, biting back his retort. The room hung heavy as you finally declared, "You've overstayed your welcome. It's time for you to leave."

Rhysand's eyes met yours with a determined glint.

"I will be back. Family does not give up."

His words pulled out a surge of anger bubbling within you. Family? Without a second thought, you stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. "Family, huh?" Your voice dripped with bitterness, and you moved toward him, anger etched on your face.

But before you could reach him, Rhysand winnowed away with a controlled fury, leaving Azriel lingering.

Azriel stood still, his eyes slightly narrowed, his brows furrowed at you. You met his gaze and felt a wave of guilt through your body, filling the hole where your fury once was a second before. If you didn’t know any better, it seemed as if Azriel was….. Disappointed? Hurt? But you stabilized yourself, pushing the observation away. Your anger, raw and unfiltered, had an intensity that took even him by surprise. He held your gaze. Then, like a wisp of darkness, he too disappeared, leaving you alone with the remnants of unresolved tension and the taste of bittersweet candied treats lingering in the air.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

a/n: hello hello!! welcome to my lil new fic!! im new here and i have no idea what im doing but i hope at least one person enjoys what has become my creative fictional baby. when i tell you this story has a place in my HEART....y/n here is multilayered and complex and flawed but that is why i love her!! serving cunt 24/7!!!

tumblr scares me so any feedback is so very loved and any advice is great too!! mwuah

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achenetype · 2 months

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Hihi can you please do a Luke x reader where it’s basically an unrequited love like reader is so in love with Luke and he has no idea so she moves on and years later she’s over him and confesses to him like a oh I thought you should know and the whole time Luke had been in love with her, kinda base it off that one TikTok audio where it’s like “I’m not in love with you anymore” “I never knew you were” 🩷🩷

OHH YOURE FEEDING MY ANGST BRAIN WITH THIS ONE. buckle up lets break some hearts

edit: this ended up being WAY sadder than i originally intended. i am so sorry anon oh my god

i gave you a rare gift (but you didn't want it) — luke castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

word count: 2.8k

content: angst, major character/reader death, unrequited love, mutual pining, reader is part of kronos' army, luke and reader are doomed by the narrative, [Y/N] used (sparingly), alcohol mention, description of injury

listening to: bloodfest (from mizumono) by brian reitzell

You are twenty-two years old, sitting on the rocky beach of a lake somewhere in the forests of upstate New York. Light, gentle fog hangs in the air around you, and the only sound is the tap-tap-tap of Luke skipping rocks across the water.

Come dawn, the world will burn. The gods will be dethroned. Every demigod will either be free, or dead.

But now, at midnight, you are twenty-three and Luke turns to you. He's holding a small, squashed cupcake in one hand. "Happy birthday," he says, "to my right-hand man." He pauses. "Woman. Right-hand woman."

He holds the pastry out to you and smiles, but something behind his eyes is empty. Hollow. He hadn't been sleeping recently. As much as he tried to hide it, he couldn't stop you from seeing when he came to you every morning for a cup of coffee and to debrief for the day.

Perks of being the revolution leader's best friend, you think. His right-hand woman.

Luke's eyes flick from the cake to your face. "Do you like it?" He asks, and for a split second, you swear there's a note of hope in his voice. "I wanted to do something, y'know," he says. "Twenty-three is huge. It's a monumental age."

You nod, but stay quiet.

He pauses for a second. "You remember how you always said you wished you never had a birthday?"

When you were twelve, nearly thirteen, your mother drove you across the country to go to summer camp.

"It'll be like a road trip," she said, tossing your duffel bag into the back seat of her battered car. "And then, hey, you'll only stay at camp until the end of August, and then you can come back and go to school. See all your friends again." She squeezed your shoulder and pushed the car door closed. "How about that?"

"Sure," you said. "Super fun."

And it was; you were actually kind of excited. You'd never been to New York. It seemed a million universes away.

And it was your birthday tomorrow. Maybe this was a gift, something that your mother had put together to make up for the years of being too tired and too drunk to make a cake, or get presents, or anything.

Your mother put her hands on her hips and sighed. "You know how I feel about the attitude, yeah? Let's not do this today."

"I wasn't even trying to—" You cut off as your mother glared at you, her face tense. You knew that look: the biting-the-inside-of-her-cheek, trying-to-be-understanding, trying-to-be-a-good-mom-despite-it-all look.

You hated that look.

"Just..." She sighed. "Just get in the damn car, [Y/N]."

You did, fighting back the tears building in the corners of your eyes, and the slam of the car door closing was as loud as thunder.

Twenty silent minutes of city streets and highway merge ramps and cold, empty stretches of asphalt and concrete passed before either of you spoke.

"Mom," you said, thirty-three seconds into minute twenty-one, "I'm sorry for talking back earlier." Your voice was quiet, shaking, cupped in your throat like a scared animal.

She didn't answer, keeping her eyes fixed on the road.

"I don't like being like this, Mom," you said, looking over at her. The silhouette of her through the driver's side window, backlit by the streetlights, was shapeless. Impassive. "I don't like doing this with you all the time."

She scoffed.

You pulled your legs to your chest, tucking your head between your knees, and tried to find sleep.

You weren't sure how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of music playing softly over the speakers. Exit signs whizzed past you at what felt like breakneck speed. You wondered, briefly, if you would break your neck if you jumped out of the car right now.

Ultimately you decided against it. You didn't want your mother's last words to you to be, get in the damn car.

That would make her feel guilty, you thought, and that guilt would make her hate me even more.

"I don't wanna fight," you tried instead, picking at a loose thread in the cuff of your jacket sleeve. "Mom, I'm sorry, okay? I don't want us to be mad at each other anymore," you said. A sob caught in your throat, heavy and wet and choking.

Your mother sighed and reached one hand from the wheel to tuck your hair behind your ear. "I know you don't, sweetie," she said. "I don't want to be mad at you either."

"Then why do you do it," you asked.

When she turned to look at you, her eyes were wet. She smiled, or tried to. "Sometimes, certain people just…can't help but fight," she said. "It's just part of who we are, I think."

"Did you fight with Dad?"

Your mother inhaled, quick and sharp through her nose, as she flicked the turn signal to right and guided the car down the exit ramp from the highway, her eyes locked ahead. "Yes," she said. "Sometimes. Sometimes I think that's where we get it."

You swallowed. "Do you ever miss him?"

She doesn't peel her gaze away from the road. "Every day."

The two of you made your way through bustling streets and across too many bridges to count. You thought you fell asleep again, for a minute or maybe a year. Maybe it was all a dream.

"Mom," you asked as she turned onto a worn dirt road, the sunrise barely stretching over the horizon, "why are you bringing me here?"

She didn't answer for a moment. Two moments, then three. Through the leaves, you saw one tree standing impossibly tall. A pine tree.

Your mother parked the car and turned to you. "Because I don't know what to do with you, [Y/N]," she said. "I don't know how I can keep you," she paused, "safe. How I could do this, on my own, in any normal way."

She got out of the car and grabbed your bag, shoving it against your chest. "Camp is just up that hill there," she said, gesturing in the direction of the large tree you'd seen earlier. "They’ve got people up there waiting for you."

"Mom," you said. "Wait, I—I wanted to talk to you—"

She shook her head. "I can't come with you, sweetie." She smiled, the curve of her mouth falling just short of her eyes. "You just remember that I love you, okay?"

At that moment, you knew: she was going to leave you here.

“No,” you said, tears rolling down your face. “No, no—Mom. Mom, please.”

“Before you go,” she said, her voice tight and sharp, “I wanted to give you this.” She reached into the back seat and pulled out a jacket, worn leather with patched elbows. “It was mine in college,” she explained, not meeting your eyes. Like she was reading from a play or book, and you were the unfortunate audience. “I figure, it doesn’t fit me anymore.”

She pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Happy birthday, baby.”

It was the first time you had ever felt like your mother loved you. You knew she liked you, sometimes. But you were never quite sure if she loved you until that moment.

And then she got back into the car with one final, teary nod.

And you never saw her again.

“Yeah,” you tell Luke, shrugging. “I think I’ve got a pretty good reason, though.” Your lips curve into a smile.

He laughs and tilts his head. It’s a habit of his; he’ll say something and twist his neck just a fraction, narrow his eyes. A nervous tic that not even years of training and fighting and killing could stamp out.

You used to think about kissing his neck when he did it, but now you’re not sure whether you would know the difference between kissing and ripping his throat out.

“True,” Luke concedes. You laugh, too, unrestrained and loud. “Gods, your sense of humor is dark.”

“You laughed first,” you remind him. He grins.

The cupcake he offers you, despite its lumps and smears of frosting, is pretty good. You split it apart with careful fingers and hand half of it back to him.

“You’re celebrating with me,” you laugh, “so you get half. That’s the rule.”

Luke simply smiles at you and takes the crumbling cake from your hand. “Whatever you say.”

You roll your eyes, grinning back. “Damn right.”

Luke’s laugh rings out again, sharp and bright against the night sky. Firelight flickers across his face, painting him in brilliant streaks of orange and gold.

“After tomorrow,” Luke murmurs, pulling his knees up to his chest, “we can do this whenever we want.” The wind ruffles his hair almost fondly, floppy brown curls stirring and settling back against his skull.

You raise an eyebrow. “This?”

He gestures in a wide arc. “Be here, like this. Just be people, instead of demigods or heroes or revolutionaries.” Luke’s voice picks up, conviction surging into his words. “I mean, seriously—when was the last time you thought you would ever have a normal life?”

You’d never understood the demigods who joined Luke’s cause without knowing him. The plan itself seemed crazy—the only way anyone would follow it was if they knew their leader could pull it off.

You have to know Luke to know he was capable of that, you think.

Until now. Now, you see what you think everyone else sees—a real leader, a revolutionary. A force for change with a silver tongue.

He makes it all seem so possible. You almost think he might pull it off.

Luke looks over to you. “We’re going to change everything,” he says.

Almost.

“We’re going to change the rules,” Luke said, spreading the map over an empty cot in his cabin. “If we want to win, we need to be thinking six steps ahead of the enemy.”

A few of the campers huddled around the makeshift table shuffled and coughed awkwardly.

“Every strategy’s been done before,” a tall girl with bubblegum-pink hair and an eyebrow piercing shouted from the back of the group. “How are we going to out-war the god of war’s kids?”

Murmurs rushed around the table, soft and susurrant. There’s no way we’re going anywhere here. We’ve gotten our asses beat six weeks in a row. What are we even doing?

Luke smiled. “Ares is the god of war,” he said, “not strategy.” He slung his arm around one of the campers next to him and inclined his head in the direction of the map.

Quietly, almost too quiet for you to hear, he murmured into the girl’s ear. “Don’t doubt yourself, Bethy,” he whispered.

You learned three things in the ten minutes that she spent explaining your team’s new strategy—

—one, your team was going to kick some major ass—

—two, your strategist’s name was Annabeth Chase, and she was the smartest eight-year-old you have ever met—

—and three, Luke was right.

Annabeth’s plan took the rules of Capture the Flag and threw them out the window. She split the team into four subgroups, each with a delegated leader. Luke nodded along as she talked, marking the map with a stubby pencil.

When Annabeth’s eyes, dark and piercing, searched the crowd and landed on you, you felt your heart stop.

“You,” she said, “are you good with a sword?”

You raised your eyebrow, pointing to yourself—just to confirm this genius child was speaking to you—and Annabeth nodded.

“I guess?” You said, shrugging. “I know some basic stuff, and I’m good at disarming.”

Annabeth’s face broke into a smile. “Work with Luke on the first wave of offense.” She gestured to the map. “You two will take points B and B-one,” she explained. “My group will take the A-points. You wait for our signal to move in.”

You met Luke’s eyes across the table. Hey, you mouthed.

His eyes flicked up and down your form. Hey, he mouthed back. You ready to win?

You smiled and nodded.

Good, Luke said, all teeth. Let’s go.

He stood and grabbed his helmet. You did the same.

“I’m [Y/N],” you said as you followed Luke through the forest. “We, uh—we met when I first got here, like, a year ago.” I was sobbing my eyes out because my mother abandoned me, you didn’t add. It was kind of pathetic. I think I threw up from crying so hard.

You suddenly hoped Luke didn’t remember meeting you, actually. That would be less embarrassing.

He turned and caught your eye. “You live in the same cabin as me. ‘Course I know you.”

Of course he remembers.

You laughed, flushing red. “Oh. Yeah. Of course.”

The silence was so thick, you could have cut it with the sleek bronze of your sword.

In the end, it was Luke who broke the silence. “You wanna play a game while we wait out here?”

You shrugged. “Sure,” you said.

“Twenty questions,” Luke replied. “So we can learn enough about each other to actually work together.” He smiled. “What’s your favorite color?”

“Low-hanging fruit,” you said, your voice just barely taking on a teasing tone. “It’s green.”

Luke laughed, loud and full and bright. “Apologies,” he said; mirth crept into his words, staining everything with a tinge of that laughter. “I’ll go for the more gut-wrenching, intimate questions next time.”

You flushed red again. Intimate questions. What the hell does he mean by that?

“My turn,” you said instead. “What do you want to be when you get older?”

“We’ll be heroes,” Luke whispers. “Real heroes. Not figureheads propped up by the gods.”

You wish you could believe him. He’s lying on the beach next to you, his head resting in the junction between your shoulder and your neck. Over the treetops, the stars are beginning to fade from the sky.

It’s almost time.

Your throat feels like someone has sanded it down to expose your vocal cords. This is a bad idea, you want to say. We shouldn’t do this. Tell me we can still not do this.

“Wanna play twenty questions?” You say, crackling and hoarse.

Luke turns to look at you. “Yeah,” he murmurs.

“My turn first,” you whisper. Luke nods.

You take a deep breath, in and out. “Are we going to die doing this?”

Luke inhales sharply. “Maybe,” he says. Slowly. Deliberately. “But we’ll do everything we can to make sure we don’t.”

“I got another question,” you say. Luke raises an eyebrow. His knuckles brush yours as you sit up.

“Are you scared?”

It’s your birthday.

You think you’re going to die.

Luke is kneeling over you, the palm of his hand pressed against the wet opening in your stomach where someone had caught you with a spear. The shaft of it is still sticking out of you, you think. You’re afraid to look down, afraid to see it.

“No,” Luke gasps, “no, no, no.”

You watch as the gold fades from his eye, leaving behind the honey-dark brown you remember. His hands are slick with blood—most of it’s probably yours, it has to be yours. You’re bleeding out, after all.

You tug on Luke’s sleeve weakly. “Hey,” you breathe. “Luke. It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

“No,” he says. “You’re—you’re hurt.”

“I know,” you rasp. “I know it hurts. I’m the one—”

You break off as a cough sticks in your throat. It feels wet. Oily. Desperate to get out. You taste the blood in the back of your throat before you can even take another breath.

“—I’m the one who’s feeling it,” you finish, your voice tilting up at the end. A joke. Gods, your sense of humor is dark.

Luke laughs weakly. “Don’t talk,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine, [Y/N], just fine.”

He meets your eyes. You see him realize it in slow motion.

Tell him. Tell him now. He’s never going to know otherwise—he could die any minute—

“Luke,” you murmur. “Luke, did you know I loved you?”

He freezes. “What?”

You cough again. Blood spills over your lips. “I loved you,” you repeat. “Since we were campers. Had the…the biggest, stupidest crush on you.”

Luke shakes his head. “No, no,” he says. “You—”

“You’re my best friend,” you continue. “Whatever feelings were there, you’re my best friend.”

Luke’s palm against your stomach is warm. It feels safe. It feels like sleeping side-by-side in the cabin, like shared meals and shared secrets.

“Why are you telling me this?” Luke says, “why are you—why?”

You blink, just once, but it takes everything you have to open your eyes again after closing them. “Because I’m going to die,” you whisper. “And even if—even though I moved on, I wanted you to…to know.”

Luke bows over your body, pressing his forehead to yours. Tears slip from his cheeks and fall onto yours, driving little rivers through the blood smeared there.

He’s crying. Why is he—

“You idiot,” Luke says brokenly. “I loved you too. I loved you too.” He cradles your head in his lap, brushing your hair away from your face. “[Y/N], I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes slip shut.

I loved you too, Luke’s voice echoes. I loved you too.

#— ash's writing #pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #reader insert #y/n #pjo imagine #ok now we get into the warning tags #graphic depictions of injury #major character death #major character injury #reader death #alcohol mention #doomed by the narrative #genuinely im so sorry i really ran wild with this one good god #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #— ash’s answering!

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