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queerregulusablack · 15 days

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James and Peter childhood friends off-shoot where after a miserable first year watching James latch onto Sirius and leave him behind, at the start of second year, Peter makes best friends with Sirius' little brother.

Sure, a decent chunk of the motivation there is spite, because it puts the most excellent pinched expression on Sirius' face, and James can't say anything about it without proving that Sirius is his favourite, despite the summer of denials that he's leaving Peter behind; but Regulus knows it's spiteful from the start.

Little eleven year old Regulus appreciates Peter being honest with him. He's honest in return, when he tells him he only first entertained his attempts to befriend him for the same reason; to lash out at Sirius after all the awful things he said to him after he was sorted into Slytherin.

Their friendship quickly becomes real, anyway, quickly turns into something solid, unshakeable the way being in James' favour never really has been - because Regulus needs Peter, and Peter needs him back, and while it's not necessarily healthy, it still works - and by the time Regulus is finishing his fourth year and Peter is finishing his fifth, he thinks he'd probably call them best friends.

Separate from James and the other boys, of course; but still just as important.

And then Sirius runs away to the Potters that summer. And Remus still isn't speaking to him. And Peter tries to be his friend, tries to be there for him, shows up at James' house with a smile for Effie, tries not to glow too much under the familiar weight of Monty's hand on his shoulder-

And James tells him to leave. That Sirius needs time, needs to be alone, to process, and half a hundred other things, like Peter didn't hear him snap that he doesn't want to see Peter specifically when the other boy shuffled upstairs to tell him he'd come to check on him.

(Logically, Peter knows that Sirius is suffering, and that he's mean when he's in pain. Sirius is his friend too, after all. But it's hard to be logical when you're sixteen and the person who stole your best childhood friend is making said friend kick you out of his house, when all you wanted was to be kind.)

When they get back to school, Peter has a plan. An elaborate, probably pretty mean, but as far as he's concerned entirely deserved plan to give Sirius a taste of his own medicine. And, well, to apologise to Remus for dithering between the two of them for as long as he did, because even after the years of distance growing between them he still doesn't know how to tell James no.

He's going to set up Regulus and Remus.

Take that, Sirius Black.

#headcanon #*pitches this one into the ether*#Regulus and Remus do not know about Peter's plan #they are sort of bemused by many of his attempts to parent trap them into dating #and yes it works but mostly because they bond over how ridiculous his behaviour gets #(They're both a bit upset with him when they learn his reasons)#(Remus especially when he learns Peter was motivated by the crush Sirius has been nursing for over a year)#(Regulus forgives him first because if anyone understands how Sirius can draw the Mean out in you it's his little brother)

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me-beef · 2 months

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The Good Lady of the East Winds

Domains: Springtime, Dawn

The Good Lady of the East Winds is the smallest and gentlest of her sisters. However, her passivity should not be mistaken for weakness- as she is the most resilient of the Winds. Her breeze brings about good fortune and change, gently melting the frost that the Northern Winds left behind.

#me art #my gf is running a pathfinder campaign and was thinking of a magic item to give my character #she pitched me a staff that contained the soul of a pegasus and well. one thing led to another #now i have a horse pantheon slow cooking in my brain #i want to draw how i see the other 3 winds but we shall see #i could also see this as a potential design for celestia #if the alicorns were more ethereal #but i think i would just make my own pantheon for equestria at this point #anyways. horse brain rot

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sailorblossoms · 2 years

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May i suggest a snowbaz art prompt:

#one of my favorite gay covers in a comic book ever #simply glorious #and the poses would work so well #with simons wings #and baz being all ethereal and elegant #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #baz x simon

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bunnybunbun0 · 2 months

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renaissance

summary: because Paul Atreides was a piece of art in bed.

pairing: Paul Atreides X fem!reader

warnings: smut,porn without plot,

A/N: with the hype of dune part two being released i finally got my shit together and watvhed part one years later and oh.my.god. Seeing timmy play a serious important yet loving duke just rocked me a bit. i hope you guys like this!

sorry its short i wasnt planning on writing it,it just came t mind.not proofread,we die like real man. english is not my first language so be kind!

you are responsible for your own media comsumption! :)

credits to gif owner!

Paul Atreides was undoubtly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

And after stumbling upon a book on what ancient civilizations considered art,you were even more convinced he was god´s most wonderful creation.

When he pants on top of you while fiercifully thrusting into your soaked slit,his black curls clinging to his pale skin with a sheer of sweat;a beautiful contrast with his dark hair and white skin.

The sounds leaving the back of his throat are a sweet melody to your ears; the gutural grunts,the ocasional moan,the pants of your name,the filthy things he whispers in your ears.

You were fully convinced paul was the most beautiful work of art youve ever seen,he was ethereal,every trace of his was brushstroke,you lost yourself staring into the honey galaxies of his eyes.

"What are you thinking about that is more important than my cock inside you right now?"

His dirty question gets you out of your head;a long whimper scaped you at how dirty his words were,you tried your best to focus on answering his question,but between his cocktip brushing your sweet spot so deliciously,the force of his hips meeting yours,and the sinful noises that filled the room,all you could do in response was moan and whine.

He lowers his head to your neck,sucking and biting the sensitive pristine skin;you shiver at the thought of being marked by his beautiful lips,having him set a clam on you.

"Answer me" he asks in a grave tone,a shiver rippling through you bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

"You´re beautiful!" you blabber out in a high pitched moan,not even realizing how desperate you sound or how you´re not making any sense to him right now "you´re beautiful! fuck paul,you´re so beautiful"

To say that was not what Pauls was expecting to hear was an understatement,he knew you appreciated his looks;it was clear with your lingering touches on him or how youd be amazedly watching him while he did the most mundane of tasks,but not that you liked it enough to declare it so devotedely while he was deep inside you.

He knew your body better than anyone else,and he could sense you were on the brink of an orgasm,his hand reached down rubbing sensual circles around your clit,not once slowing down his thrusts.

You unravel around him yelping and crying out as your release washed over you,your eyes shut feeling the moment where you and him become one.

A few more faltered thrusts into your now even tighter pussy,and paul was cumming inside you with a string of profanities leaving his mouth accompanied with your name.

You both stare at each for what feels like forever,breathing deeply while coming down from your highs.

Paul was a completely different person once the sexual aact was over,the kiss he pressed on your lips right now was not desperate and hurried,it was calm,soft,he treated you like the wind blow you away into a pile of sand.

He slips out of you carefully,making sure youre okay,carefully enveloping you in his arms and throwing a blanket around both their naked bodies;a confortable silence falls into the room as thetwo of you cuddle,paul lovingly stroking your arms,ocasionally kissing whatever naked skin he could get his lips on.

"You really think i´m that good looking?" he asks with the memory of you moaning out how beautiful he was mid sex stuck in his mind.

In your post orgasm clarity your mind goes back to the beautiful paintings you found on the ancient book,the delicacy of the lines,the softness of the colors and beautiful tragedies behind every piece. The sudden desire to once again tell paul how beautiful he is and make sure to know your ancient knowledge with him are overwhelming.

You sit up in the bed looking up at his face,a smile immediately meeting your lips as you look at him and decide to ask:

"Have you ever heard of Michelangelo?"

#dune #dune x reader #dune x you #paul atreides #paul atredies x reader #paul atreides x you #paul atreides x fem!reader #timothee chalamet #timothee chalamet characters #timothee chalamet x reader #paul atreides smut

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lovebugism · 4 months

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if you're still interested in smutty requests.. what about the line "want me to serenade you while you strip?" and it's eddie jokingly saying this to reader and she runs with it and he tries to keep playing but COME ON there's more important things those fingers should be doing 👀

congrats! u win the award for most eddie coded request of all time :D — eddie makes you laugh when you get nervous undressing in front of him (18+, allusion to smut, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Stop looking at me like that!” you whine with your arms crossed over your nearly bare chest. “You’re making it weird!”

Eddie laughs loud. “Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, leaning back on the mattress and propping his weight on his elbows. He’s got a better view of you from this angle. More of your half-naked body in his sight.

“I can feel you looking at me— It’s making me feel weird.”

“Well, how am I supposed to look anywhere else when you’re in front of me like this, huh?”

His eyes are lidded and swimming with melted chocolate. You’re not sure how you’ve captured his attention like this, in the tamest underwear you own and your most ancient bra. He’s looking at you like you’re already undressed — like you’re still pretty even though you aren’t.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, glittering with adoration.

“And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he quips without thinking twice, wild head titled to his shoulder and a crooked smirk on his kissed mouth. “So I guess we’re even.”

His eyes rake over you again, heavy like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen you.

He pulls his plush lip between his teeth and, almost absentmindedly so, brings his palm to the crotch of his jeans. He grips his covered cock with a pale hand, shifting it slightly within the confines of the denim. It grows slowly and achingly stiff the longer he looks at you.

Eddie looks like a Renaissance painting like this. Ethereal and hedonistic. You almost forget to breathe.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you say with a forced laugh.

“You’re half-naked in my bedroom, doll— that’s all you need to do,” he chuckles, golden and more sincere than yours. His ringed fingers clutch tighter at his covered bulge. He breathes hard through his nose. “You could be fully clothed, and you’d still turn me on.”

“Stop messing with me,” you argue in a tiny voice, features twisted in a subtle pout.

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Do you want me to get naked? Or should I just stand here for the next two minutes?”

“Two minutes? C’mon. Give me a little credit. At least, two-and-a-half,” Eddie jokes. And then, when you laugh, he assures you. “You don’t have to get undressed if it makes you uncomfortable. Unless it would make you feel better if I serenaded you—”

“No.”

“—Too late.”

You reach your arms for the clasp of your bra. Eddie’s voice fills the trailer — “do, do, do, do-do-do-do-do-do” — the high-pitched intro to “I Was Made for Loving You.” It makes you laugh loud. A big, girlish laugh that makes your head drop back.

Your bra comes off, and you forget to be nervous.

“Why are you laughin’ at me, huh?” Eddie jokes, eyes going squishy around the edges when he looks at you.

“‘Cause that’s, like, the least sexiest part of that song.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, are you gonna keep singing, superstar? Or am I gonna have to keep my underwear on?”

He goes dumb for a flash of a second, forgets the lyrics and how to form the words of them in his mouth. He jumbles them together for a second in mindless mumbles until the real thing spills from his lips. “—‘Cause girl, you were made for me… And girl, I was made for you…”

You tug your panties down your thighs while he sings for you. You make a big show of it too, tossing the pair of them into your lover’s lap and giggling when it gets him all flustered.

“Fuck— c’mere,” he urges, as dumb as he is breathless, now that you’re fully naked in front of him. His hand drops to his lap again, palming at his stiffening length to ease the ache there. His free hand reaches out for you. “Can you— Just come sit in my lap, baby, please.”

You don’t know why he’s groveling. You were breaking the second you saw him melting for you. Not thinking straight enough to tease him about it, you settle yourself over his lap — kneeling on the mattress, both of your thighs straddling one of his.

You linger there, just above him. Eddie’s ringed hands reach gently for your warm jaw to pull you closer to him. You don’t give in so easily — “Keep singing for me, rockstar. You got a show to warm up for, remember?”

Eddie blinks up at you, eyes wide and lidded and honeyed. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Like you’re some ethereal being carved out of stone. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen because you are.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “This is so fucking metal.”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: bug turns one

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bunny584 · 3 months

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OBSESSED: FUSHIGURO

A/N: OH. MY. GOD. Anon. I love you and hate you for this request. This was…hard. I told myself I wouldn’t publish it unless it was fucking perfect (you should see the scalpels I took to each goddamn sentence before this version).

SECOND: I will square up with Gege for writing the most enigmatic, LAYERED, complex, muddled character to exist. I wanted this to be Megumi. Through and through. His darkness, his light, his reservation, his crazy, all in one. And IDK. I think I did it? This one is purely to prove to myself that I can write for characters that are hard to write for (*cough* yuta im glaring at you *cough*)

THIRD: if you do read this (I get people feel things about aged up characters etc), I implore you to listen to this. Guys. I heard this at 0200 IN THE OR during a 6 hour case and the entire concept for this came to me. Meg is sophisticated and unruly, selfless and selfish, etc. So this has some NSFW but definitely probably more on the poetic, long ends of my works.

CW: Aged up characters (20+), college AU, fluffy/raunchy/dark romance-y because LOOK at him. He takes after Gojo AND Toji. Mature, 18+

“You like it when I’m rough.”

Megumi’s melody rings crystal clear.

Low.

Precise.

An F-14 Tomcat fighter jet, flying dark. Below enemy radar.

The piano keys float beneath his tone. His long, slender, deft fingers effortlessly execute the sheet music before him. It’s his GPS system, a personal flight map.

Little Beethoven, his advanced music theory professor calls him.

Truth is, Megumi is a prolific pianist and vocalist. He can tame any note, any melody, any harmony faster than any of his Shikigami.

Speaking of…

Megumi pulls off the piano and tortured love song in an instant. Just as the grade 3 curse creeps through the open door.

The part between his right long and ring fingers is automatic. His left hand grips the web space between his right thumb and index finger.

“Demon dog.” Megumi summons.

Low. Precise. Decisive.

“Eat it, boy.”

A small, approving smile tugs on the corners of his lips. Low level curses are the nothing more than chew toys to his divine dogs. With a tiny wave of his fingers, his technique buzzes inward.

Megumi’s eyes float to the ancient analog clock on the wall.

13:50

10 more minutes until you’ll meet him for your date.

No. Not date.

Study. 10 more minutes until you’re meeting him to study.

Your thought blooms within him like wildfire. It sets his normally cool, porcelain skin ablaze.

Megumi whips his body around to face the piano. To exorcise the feeling. The keyboard has always been his outlet. His life blood. Playing, singing, musing in and out of written songs is his catharsis.

Words don’t come easy. They never have. But lyrics do.

And when he gets to ride lyrics with his voice, his runs..?

The words he can never find on his own are suddenly out there. In the atmosphere. Coating empty rooms in a mist of his thoughts, his feelings.

No certain promise that the person the words are destined for will ever catch them. Or ever walk through the room and be kissed by the remnants of his musical trail. But Megumi has said (sung, played) them. And that’s enough.

“Sorry if I come across a type of way.”

“I’ve been trying to get out of my way…”

His fingers dive into the keys. Angrily. Earnestly.

“I know it doesn’t seem like I care, but you know I care—“

“Wow Meg, you sound incredible.”

You bring him to an abrupt stop. Your voice is maple syrup trailing down Megumi’s neck, leaving goosebumps in its candied wake.

Pitch fucking perfect.

A soft, ethereal C, gliding down Heaven’s staircase. You infuse sunlight into his name, whichever way you choose to say it.

And it’s hell. It’s cruel. To have as keen hearing as he does. To listen to you sing his name and have nothing else follow.

“Fushiguro.” Megumi shoots up from his seat, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.

“What?”

“Fushiguro.” He repeats, eyes briefly meeting yours before settling above your head. He’s at least a head and shoulders taller.

“Nobody calls me Meg.”

You throw your head back. Feather light crescendo in your laughter. It’s pretty. Tantalizing in the way chandeliers twinkle when they capture a beam of light.

His eyes dart down to catch the feminine column of your neck. Curving into your delicate collar bones. How are your lines so seamless?

So cinematic. Like he’s watching a figure skater land a triple axel. Or a prima ballerina en pointe. It’s not fathomable.

Gorgeous.

You are gorgeous.

“I call you Meg.” You retort with a smile that liquifies all of his joints.

You double your walking speed to keep pace with Megumi’s long strides. Both of you exit the sound engineering building. Heading straight for the campus library a couple blocks away.

“Who were you—oh,” Megumi’s glacial hand along the small of your back steals your voice away.

Your eyes and feet follow his gentle push, shifting you to the other side of him.

“Walking on the wrong side.” He mutters, monotone. Matter-of-fact. Obviously.

He’s a gentleman. Of course he is going to walk on the traffic facing edge of the sidewalk.

Of course he didn’t feel the electric currents wire through his fingers to clench — suffocate — his heart.

No, he didn’t hear that punched out, falsetto gasp when his hand cradled your perfectly tapered waist.

Or notice how well you fit into his hand. How light you are under his touch that had none of his real strength behind it.

You’re made of alluring lines. Intoxicating sounds.

What would it take to coax a pretty melody out of your pouty lips?

His fingers?

They’re long. And smart. Cold. Remarkably patient. You’d like them.

He could make you love them.

Crave them. Need, whimper, whine, and cry out for them.

“So who was it?” You tether him to reality.

“Who was what?” Megumi counters, leading you to a private study room.

“The way you were singing earlier.”

Hairs along the back of his neck stand at attention. Blood runs Siberian cold. Megumi’s gaze on you is subzero.

“It had to be for someone.” You lower down into a seat in slow motion.

The sweetheart neckline of your sundress is mean. Your supple mounds tilt and ripple with every micro movement. Megumi has forgotten why he’s glaring at you.

“You sound too…pretty. It can’t be wasted on thin air.” You continue.

“She must be—“

“Let’s just get started, okay?” He sharply redirects the conversation.

And promptly shifts gear to low autopilot. He’ll speak when spoken to, answer questions intermittently. But his mind’s true coordinates are a galaxy away.

Megumi retreats to his shadow garden.

Watching you.

Drinking you in.

Savoring each detail on his tastebuds like dessert.

The pencil eraser leaves an indent on your bottom lip where you’ve been pressing too hard.

Megumi wants to roll your bottom lip under his teeth. Until it flushes rose and swells beneath his relentless pull.

His eyes fall to your bracelet, far too big for your dainty wrist.

He could hold both of your wrists in one hand above your head or behind your back for hours. Without breaking a sweat.

His other hand would take its time.

To stroke you. Pet you. Learn your sheet music. Then play your body like a harp until you’re a chorus of beautiful, soprano whimpers and moans. Begging and pleading so prettily, enticing him to give in.

But he won’t.

Not until you’re soft enough. A babbling, warm, ruined brook beneath his fingers.

Then he’ll take you, gorgeous.

Searing pain from his sharp swallow and nails digging into his thighs rip him down to the present.

Vision a little fuzzy. Head a revolving door of vulgar scenarios. A dull, demanding ache between his legs draws his eyes to his lap.

Fucking hell.

His jeans are uncomfortable. He’s stiff and needy. Not nearly enough strength in his pants to hold back his drunken arousal.

Not to the mention, the—

swarm of shadows growing at his feet?

Is his…innate domain materializing around him right now?

Megumi aggressively slices through the air at his hip level. Below the table, but you don’t miss his sudden stirring.

“Meg? You okay over—“

“Going to the bathroom.” He gruffs through a clenched jaw. Megumi places his forearm over his crotch before hurrying out of the room.

He can barely recognize the man in the mirror. Flushed to his ears. Volcanoes threatening eruption in his eyes. Api Biru. Pure, triple distilled, blue lava coursing through his veins.

Snap out of it, Fushiguro.

The splash of cold water does nothing for his internal heat. But his milky complexion returns to its effervescent state.

But then he turns a little too quickly to leave. And his painfully hard length drags along his fabric. It’s blinding.

A feeble moan tumbles out of his tight lips.

“Fuck.”

Megumi slams his eyes shut. He needs to readjust. But if he touches himself now, he might not be able to stop.

A slow, steadying breath fills his lungs.

“Just adjust, don’t…” His voice trails off. Icey fingers around his hot, angry base is enough to rip the carpet from beneath his feet.

“Oh, fuck.” Megumi mumbles through one quick pump up his shaft.

He shakes his head as if to tell himself enough. He rests his erection along his thigh before zipping up. Still painful, but tolerable.

A tornado obliterates any remaining resolve in Megumi’s mind on his walk back to you.

You are a dream.

Or a nightmare? A curse?

It doesn’t matter. He couldn’t care less.

Megumi would follow you. Deeper than the crypts of his 10 shadows. Into hell if it meant he could have you the way he wants you.

The way he craves you.

Because fuck the cost.

He’d pay anything.

You’re working on an elaborate concept diagram on the white board. On the tip of your toes. Lip curled under your teeth. And you are just irresistible.

So, he won’t resist.

“Meg! Took you a bit, you okay?”

Megumi is silent. Unblinking. Sauntering toward you.

“Megumi?”

You lower to the soles of your shoes. Neck craning to look at his face. Your eyes widen at his persistent silence. Rosy heat dusting your cheeks.

Pretty little doe, rooted in place by his wolfish glare.

Megumi takes the marker out of your hand and tosses it behind him in one swift motion.

“Hmm,” a tiny acknowledgment of his name. Just because it sounds so sweet rolling off your tongue.

Megumi corners you against the wall. Both of his hands casually in his pockets.

He watches you shift. Flicker your eyes in every direction. Fiddle with your thumbs.

His quiet.

His presence.

It flusters you. Well before he’s gotten the chance to run his hands along the lazy curve of your waist and hips.

“So…so blue.” You stammer. Your warm eyes metronome between his.

“They are.”

Megumi steps impossibly closer. His eyes drop to your chest. Dainty, nervous heaves. Up and down. Up and down.

“You are so,” you swallow thickly, dropping your gaze. “hard to read.”

Megumi snakes his large, graceful fingers into your nape. The temperature difference between your warmth and his cold startles you deeper into his grasp. Your head evanesces into his pull.

A beautiful, shocked gasp escapes you. Just as Megumi’s lips trace the shell of your ear.

“I want you.”

His breaths collide with yours, now. Heat welling deep in his groin. His cock thunders against his thigh.

“Can you read that?” Megumi rasps. Ensuring his voice vibrates down your spine.

A new sound tumbles from your lips. Like you choked on your last swallow. How pretty. You gurgling and gagging like that.

“W-want me? Megumi wh—“

“I.” Megumi nudges his thigh between your legs. His steel pipe erection digs into your dewy, hot core. He angles his leg slightly upward, inching you on the tip of your toes.

His prima ballerina, en pointe.

“Want you.” His lips ghost against yours. Free hand cups the flesh beneath your thigh. Pads of his fingers twitching to dig in.

The two of you drink in this lock-in-key fit. Megumi revels in you. Like this. At his complete mercy.

The prodigal son, born with more power than he knows what to do with.

Ten shadows. Ten Shikigami. It’s been centuries since the last head of his bloodline had power buzzing beneath his fingertips like him.

And somehow he’s never felt more powerful than this.

With you, heaven’s most precious angel, cradled in his arms. Drowning in sinful ecstasy. He brands this freeze frame into the most permanent part of his memory.

Then, he free falls off your cliff edge.

Megumi takes your lips with unfettered greed. Hunger woven into the way his tongue traces every corner of your delectable, soft mouth. His fingers push your head deeper into him. Sucking and nibbling on your warm muscle.

You shower him with airy, choppy little pants. Moans and whines so light they crescendo to fairy dust. You can’t keep up with his bruising kiss. His other hand palms your thigh, kneading little bruises into your silky smooth skin.

Marking what’s his.

“Oh my god.”

You breathe into his mouth when he lets you up for air. Megumi’s eyes dart down to the meeting point of your sex and his muscular thigh.

Did you really think he wouldn’t notice how you’re rutting your pretty little cunt against his leg like that?

Crimson high on your cheeks. You look away when he tries to catch your fucked out gaze.

“Don’t hide from me, gorgeous.” His hand traces up to your hips. You preen into his firm grip.

“Megumi.”

“Don’t stop, pretty girl.” He forcefully moves your hips in more dramatic, languid, deep rolls against his thigh. He’s not paying any mind to the pool of his precum soaking through his pants.

You bury your head in his neck. Fingernails digging pretty crescent moons into his back. You take over the pace. Undulating against him. Shameless. In complete heat.

“You feel s-so…so good.” Your lips smear against his dampened neck. Megumi responds by circling your puffy, slick bud with his fingers.

And fuck. The slurred, broken whimper that rings in his ears.

The way you hump him even more sloppily.

He could finish from that alone.

Your hand flies to your mouth. Empty huffs spilling. Whines ascending in pitch. You are close.

“Such pretty sounds, baby.”

“Megumi…meg..I-“

“Let it out.” He grips the back of your neck. Feeling dangerously close to his own nirvana. Drunk off your precious melody.

“Sing for me.”

“F-fuck, GOD.”

You bite down on his neck. Waves of pleasure crashing into you like hurricane winds. He grips your waist steady. Feeling every involuntary twitch and jerk of your doll-like frame.

Blessing or curse?

He doesn’t know.

But he will follow you to the end of his lifetime and the next.

“God, Fushiguro. That was…” The lusty haze from your peak settles around you. The once shattered world, slowly pieces itself back together.

“No.” Megumi pulls you out of his neck. Dropping his lips to yours, so he can breathe the air directly from your lungs.

“Meg. You call me Meg.”

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sh1-n0bu · 6 months

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𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 22: double dom with dan heng from hsr

warnings: two readers, cock/strap/shaft/length traditions, praise, degrading, double penetration, overstimulation, dacryphilia, creampie, squirting, oral, slapping, slight feminization, slight breeding, love confessions even though reader and dan heng are in relationship, shit gets messy

notes: if yall didnt like normal dan heng, yall dont deserve lunae. i die by this statement

“what a whore. look at him, squealing like he wants more”

“won’t you shut the fuck up? and don’t call dan heng ‘whore’ again unless you want to have your jaw broken”

all dan heng could do was let out a high pitched embarrassed squeal again as he comes on your hand again. his face was flushed red, all the way to his shoulders. bare skin covered in sweat, tears and drool as he tries to make sense of who it was that was fucking his hole open now.

it was weird to wake up to the noise of commotion. especially if the commotion was caused by two you. at first dan heng thought he was having some super weird dream. he tried slapping himself, pinching himself and even thought if his food or drink was spiked with something weird.

but no. none of it was sadly true and the situation he woke up to was very much real. there, standing over the side of the bed were two [name]s. exact carbon copies of one another except one was cussing the other out more while the other was calm and collected. but the calm one was losing their shit more and more as the other [name] spits curses at them.

somehow, it ends up in this little competition between the two [name]s to see which one can fuck him better.

one was gentle with him. coaxing him gently, peppering kisses on his neck and whispering soothing words in his ear. praising him for how pretty he looks, how he was so beautiful and ethereal, how he was doing such a good job as dan heng gags and chokes around your cock. saliva slipping from the side of his mouth, slipping down his chin as his whines get muffled with your length down his throat, causing slight bulge in them.

the other was mean. degrading him, calling him a filthy whore for letting himself get used by two [name]s. a fucking slut for willingly opening his legs wide and allowing his cute puckering hole to get fucked over and over. their strap pushing their own cum deeper inside him, pushing him into impossible, near painful positions as dan heng cries fat globs of tears. he never knew that his lover could be mean. even more, he didn’t knew that he would be so damn turned on by the mean slaps to his inner thigh, making him squeal and clench around the mean one like a harlot.

dan heng didn’t knew which one to focus on. all he could do was lay there on the bed. spread out with his inner thighs and ass red from the mean one’s slaps. his own cum painting his stomach as he sobs in a twisted sense of pain and pleasure. he felt so full, he was so sure that he was going to bend the biology of a vidyadhara and get pregnant.

by the mean [name] or by the gentle [name], he didn’t knew. he couldn’t even tell if the one who was keeping his legs open as he trashes and whimpers of feeling so full is his own [name] of this reality.

“you’re doing it wrong. fuck him hard like you mean it, dumb fuck. look at him. he’s getting my hard work all over the place!”

a voice hisses, angry and annoyed by the sound of it. a hand comes to knead his sore ass, making dan heng let out a choked whimper and cling to the other one tighter. ah, the one whose cock was inside him right now was the gentle one.

“guunck—! puh-please… can’t… i can’t take more… please please pleaseplease—! [n-name], you’re gonna break me… aaanh♡︎!!” dan heng lets out a loud moan. shrill and drawn out like a girl’s as his thighs shake from where they’re wrapped around your waist.

clinging to the gentle one was his only source of comfort and grounding. if not, dan heng was sure that his mind will break and his brain would get fried from the overwhelming amount of pleasure and pain.

“shut up, slut. you’re going to have to take everything if you want to decide who’s the winner here” the angry one grunts, kneading his already red and sore ass before slapping him again. dan heng twitches, bucking his hips as he tries to escape the mean one’s hold on him only to grind your cock against his prostate. he was shooting blanks from just that. body too overstimulated to keep going. but he wanted to. the sick perverted part of his mind wanted to feel the pain.

spreading his asscheeks apart with both hands, the poser takes a moment. eerily silent and calm faced as they watch the both of your mixed cum slowly ooze out of his loose hole, dripping down onto the mattress below. it created more wet stain in the already messed up mattress. but it also gave the poser an idea.

all the while you whispered of love and gentle reassurances into the ruined man’s ear, the other you shuffle closer until their chest was flush against dan heng’s back. the faraway look in his teary eyes, the old tearstains and the drool covering his chin was more than enough proof that dan heng was far gone. mind filled with statics as he can only take and take and take whatever’s given to him.

“hey, shift him a bit and pull out until your tip, will you?” the other you says, tapping your hips. for a moment, you just wanted to tell your doppelgänger to fuck off and go back to their own reality. but the excited look in their eyes got you sighing as you fulfill what they asked.

pulling out until only your tip is inside his gaping hole, you whisper more sweet nothings to dan heng when he whimpers at the feeling. he was already so spent. he possibly can’t handle what your other half was planning. but you were possessive and that trait mixed with a feeling of wanting to prove that you’re worth dan heng made you simply shut up.

fingering the dripping cum back inside his twitching warm walls, your doppelgänger hooks a finger at his loose hole. slowly spreading him out more and more, little by little, you were too slow to realize until dan heng was trashing about, sobbing and crying about how he was going to break until his jaws go slack in a silent scream. his spent cock squirting over his tummy again.

“t-too much… break… ‘m gonna breakkk aanh aahg ghiick♡︎ gyaack! c-cocks mmmgh uungh—! too much♡︎♡︎!”

the reserved and deadly guard of the astral express, shaking his head as he cries, creating new tear stain marks as he drools all over himself. great amount of his own cum staining his stomach, hair stuck to his forehead as he sweats all over. each time his mouth opens, it’s to let out shrill, girlish moans and squeals. the sound lewd and downright pornographic as it draws out, followed by the sound of two cocks sinking deeper into his tight and eager hole inch by inch.

“fuck—! mmgh so fucking tight, i can’t even move my hips. see that? that’s my cute little breeding bitch. cunt all tight and eager as always” your doppelgänger chuckles, hands coming up to twist and pull at his sensitive, swollen nipples. dan heng shakes his head furiously, denying the poser’s words with all his heart.

it was when your poser placed a kiss on his neck, ready to bite him and mark his skin did he let out a noise of denial. placing his trembling hand over their face, he shoves them away with what little strength did he had left. clinging to your form tightly with his chest flush against yours, you were glad that it was dan heng who protested. because if he hadn’t you would have broken more than just a few bones.

“uhnn!! not [name]! n-not my [name]!” dan heng whines, clinging to you with a vice grip. the thought of being marked by someone else — even if said someone else was technically [name] from another reality — dan heng hated it. he hated the idea of carrying someone else’s love bite on him, if not his own [name].

“not my [name]… i love you… i love you, [name]! mine, only mine! only m-my [name] gets to fuck a baby in me—♡︎!” before you could even make sense of his slurred blabbering words, dan heng passes out. face serene, forehead resting on your shoulder as he continues to grip onto you even in his unconscious state.

ah, the feeling of being in love and loving in return. but that aside, it’s time to punch this annoying doppelgänger of yours before taking care of your unconscious darling—

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llamagoddessofficial · 23 days

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I didn't actually see the eclipse (wrong continent) but it definitely got the gears in my head turning. I wish I had art skills to draw the idea bouncing around in my noggin, but consider; corruption takes over Nightmare and Dream. They merge together into one entity called Total Eclipse.

Its magic is ice white, its body is pitch black. It retains Nightmare's 'texture' but it has Dream's ethereal glow. It's large... the intimidating stature of two Gods in one form, with an aura of unspeakable intensity. Despite its two halves famously being at constant war with one another, the entity is stable, unnervingly calm. It constantly looks faintly amused.

When it speaks, it speaks in either Dream or Nightmare's voice. If it's talking to someone who knew one of the two, it uses the voice they're most familiar with. It occasionally uses both at once - seemingly for dramatic effect.

It can trigger any number of feelings in someone with only a glance. It looks like it takes joy in doing so. Standing too close to it can cause uncontrollable tears.

It responds to the name 'Eclipse'. It has a delayed response to 'Dream' - and doesn't seem to react at all to 'Nightmare'.

#hehe oh wow a new Guy #i will have to come back later and add more things #man i really wish i could art it into existence #and yes. you can kiss him. its 100% kissable #he is romanceable with the right attitude #he/it pronouns for this blorb i reckon

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peachesofteal · 3 months

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Prologue: The Moirai

An Ichor Veil (of Flower Kings) masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 1.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: modern setting retelling of Hades and Persephone A strange dream, a strange visit.

For months, you’ve had the same dream.

You’re wandering a valley, your valley, a lush, green collection of rolling peaks, sweet grass and clover nearly velvet beneath your bare feet. The sun, high in the sky, does not moisten your brow, or cause you distress. You do not thirst. You do not tire.

You only meander, feeding the earth snippets of power, growing flowers and vines, a plethora of life, amusing yourself, as you do every night.

You roam this meadow, until your eyes open at dawn, bullfrogs and crickets and the raw chirp of birds tapping against the windowpane, brightening you to the morning better than any alarm clock ever could.

But tonight, the dream is different.

You’ve never seen so much Narcissus. It paints an idyllic picture, bright petals sparkling far and wide, blanketing the hills until they swoop low in the soft belly of the dream. They draw you in, pulling you down until you’re seated amongst a mass of blooms, Asphodelus scattered throughout, honeysuckle vine curling through the grasses, more fragrant than sea spray, filling the air with an intoxicating sweetness that you can taste, crystal like dew dripping with jasmine and vanilla.

It's beautiful.

A creek babbles nearby, crooning in its own language, rushing trickle drowning out your thoughts and feelings, twisting and tugging until it’s hard to remember you’re in a dream at all.

Is this not your meadow?

Is this not your own?

The Asphodelus shivers, rocking back and forth in a cool wind, the kind that chills your skin, whips around your shoulders and tousles the thin fabric of your shirt.

“Hello.” The greeting startles you, twists your torso in the waist deep flora. Rise. Instinct booms, like your mother’s chide ringing a shrill bell for you to obey.

A figure stands in the meadow behind you, tall beside the sun, rays of golden light casting long shadow across their features. You squint, but it’s of no use. You cannot make them out.

“Hello.” You mirror, palms forward, heels digging into the grass. There’s a sharp prick, a sting that bleeds, and you curse, lifting your hand for inspection. “Acantha.” You hiss at the goddess, as if she has anything to do with your dreams.

Gold runs from the wound like the creek, slicking your palm, coating your skin in ichor, your own lifeblood.

The lifeblood of the Golden ones.

Lest you forget.

The figure kneels in the grass before you, their head bowed, black gloved hands reaching, tugging your palm upwards, dragging a thumb through the mess of ethereal life.

“I’m fine, just a prick.” You assure in the silence. There is so much light, and yet none, nothing to illuminate the face or the features of whomever it is that occupies your dream.

A fragment of your mind, perhaps. A trick of your mother’s.

Or an interloper.

“You’re hurt.” The dark pitch of the figure’s voice is startling. It’s fathomless, beautiful like the coast of the Aegean, guttural like the shout of death. Raw ruby, not quite plucked from its sanctuary, not quite finished or ready to be seen, a secret gem, only for you. The meadow rustles, thousands of faces in the little flowers leering, scowling, blue sky dimming into grey. Thunder shatters the tranquility, clapping in the distance, a garish boom sending electric shocks through the clouds, all manner of rumbles rolling over the hill.

Rot. It fills your soul in a flood, current wrapping around your ankles and tugging, like a thousand Oceanids lay at your feet, crying. Screaming.

But your hand is warm. Your hand is warm and it is held, for a moment, a moment in which you feel dramatically unlike yourself, unlike the fledging goddess you claim to be, unlike the unloved one you’re known as, and then-

it is cold. Your hand. Your heart. You. The being, the figure, is gone.

And you are alone.

The Greenhouse is quiet. An easy peace, so easily disturbed by comings and goings, friends and patrons, all manner of beings and others, stopping in and out.

They say hello. They ask for help, advice, favor. Some things you cannot give, even to some visitors who you hold close. Dearly.

These moments alone, moments of solitude in the Greenhouse, and some that you love the most. Moments when you're alone with yourself, your power, your connection to the earth. When you can feel it the most, the worms in the dirt, the roots desperate for water, the blooms aching to flourish. You are all these things, when you're alone. A power unto yourself. A goddess of life, of fertility, of Spring. The essential reawakening. The circle of seasons.

The secret weighs heavily.

But a goddess of Spring, is no mere goddess of Spring, your mother's voice echoes. A goddess of life, may as well wear a target on her back.

This morning, when the dew still refracts the light of the sun and birds are singing, no one comes. You sit alone, pruning, detangling, taming a pothos, encouraging its lovely green vine to live on its own. It protests, and you huff at it, conjuring slivers of magic, feeding it kernels as if you care for a child, trying to encourage it to eat.

“You must try, you know.” It curls around the back of your hand, lovely silver-white speckled leaves shimmering in the morning’s light. “You’re not staying here. The Greenhouse is full. I don’t have any more room.” The overcrowded shelves and carts agree, saplings and ivy and atropa belladonna all singing in unison, quivering voices rising in protest of the pothos’ weak effort. “See? You’ll make everyone unhappy.”

“You have a habit of talking to all your plants?” A musical voice chimes from the front door, and you jump from the stool, a book on your right clattering to the concrete.

“No, I…” Your voice fails, the woman in the doorway steps closer, allowing her mortal appearance to fall away, removing her Cloak and revealing her true identity.

The Moirai.

The Three who are One.

She turns her head to the east, a flash of the Maiden surveying your workbench, and then the Crone shines through, all faces eventually melding into one.

The Mother.

“Daughter of Demeter.” She inclines her head in greeting, and you blink rapidly.

“You...” What are they… is she, doing here? “You shouldn’t be here.” You swallow the fear that races in a cold rush under your skin. A frozen river runs in your bones, frigid rapids roaring, trapped beneath a thin sheet of ice, churning your power into a weapon of terror, an uncontrollable force that tries to build beneath the swell.

“Your mother is preoccupied.” She waves her hand; unease props the hair up on the back of your neck.

“What do you want?”

“To see you.” She strolls, careful, casual steps echoing off glass. “Finally, in the flesh.” The sh sound hisses, and your power pulses, pushing forward in preparation. “You are truly as lovely as they say, little Spring Goddess.”

“I’m not the Goddess of Spring.” You rebuke, and the resounding chuckle is dry wine, a tatter of bubbles that on her tongue that sours your stomach.

“You are not.” She nods. “No. You’re so much more now. You will be.” She steps closer, red lips perfectly lined and plump, pursed as she stares you down. “I’m satisfied.” She murmurs, and even though she looks right at you, it’s as if you’re not in the room.

Rain drops patter on glass panels.

“Pity.” She frowns, and then winks as a young woman, as an old one too, vanishing from sight with each step she takes to the door.

The clock ticks too loudly, and it feels like doom. Like a shattered mirror, shattered reflection, shattered life.

The Moirai have never visited you.

Why now?

Outside, a screech owl hoots, startling you backwards, a hand rocking down to the work bench in an effort to steady your trembling legs.

“Ouch!” you shriek, flipping your palm over, a pair of pruning shears dug into your skin, golden blood leaking out around their cool metallic points. “Fuck.” Your lips cover the puncture, tongue flicking against the rivulet of ichor.

The screech owl screams.

The throne room is silent. Darkness ebbs, inky webs slithering across the floor, shadowing the blood red stone that spills from the mouth of the dais, two identical, straight back chairs sitting proudly in the middle of the hall, dwarfed by columns stretching so tall Johnny swears they surpass the boundary of this realm. Their onyx marble shrouds Simon, who stands maskless, his hands clasped behind his back, peering into the pitch-black pool of liquid vibrating inside a silver bowl.

“Who is she?” There is a woman in the seeing glass. Beautiful, bright, an overflowing bouquet of narcissus, an endless melody of spring, the promise of early death. The greenhouse breathes in her presence, all nature of blooms and blossoms straining closer, desperate to be within fingertips reach. “A goddess?” He looks closer, and Simon’s amber laden eyes affix his, broad palm tenderly cupping Johnny’s cheek. His answer is a whisper, something unearthly and severe as they are: two Kings of the Underworld, two souls twisted together, two macabre fates made one. His words are a looming promise, a vow so ruinous Johnny knows the Moirai howl and the Lethe trembles.

“Our wife.”

#peaches writes #AIV(OFK)#ghoap x reader #hades ghoap #persephone reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x soap x reader #Simon Riley #john soap mactavish

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cherubfae · 2 months

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Red String of Fate || Alastor

Alastor never put much faith in things like fate, no matter how much the red string tied around his left ring finger seemed to say otherwise. It hadn't glowed for him like it had for many others. Would it ever start? Perhaps his soulmate died long ago, that would be just his luck.

tags: fem!fallen angel!reader, human to demon Alastor, blood/gore, mentions of death/killing, soulmate au, one shot

Alastor loathed the idea of soulmates. Someone perfectly aligned for every being on earth. A silly little thing to give one false hope. There were many out there who drove themselves mad, staring at the red rope tied in a neat little bow around their left ring finger, the invisible end of it somewhere in the ether. Hoping and praying that it would emit a bright glow one day and tug them towards their person.

For thirty years, Alastor's string never glowed a single time. He wished it didn't dishearten him at times, absentmindedly stroking at the soft cord. His invisible leash tying him to someone else. Perhaps his person was dead. A depressing thought. But his cord remained red, not the ugly monochrome grey that widows often bore. No, his person was still out there somewhere. Some place he'd never been.

Tracking was a skill Alastor took pride in. It went hand-in-hand with hunting. He was skilled and knowledgeable in almost every aspect of hunting, including miserable human prey. The filthy degenerate he was attempting to bury was one of Earth's worst. The kind of man who preyed on the kindness of women and manipulated them into more depraved acts. Alastor would stand for none of it.

Bang!

A harsh popping sound reverberated loudly in Alastor's ears. His eyelids drooped closed for a second. Opening them again, he realized he was kneeling in pitch black. Blood soaked his hands and pooled the dark ground surrounding him. It was hard for him to focus. Was this his blood?

In a split second, the ground opened up beneath him. A fiery red opened to swallow him whole, and down he fell into the pits of Hell, straight into the Ring of Pride. Where all Sinners go.

Alastor was quick to make a name for himself, as the Radio Demon, one of Hell's fiercest sinners. He took great joy in broadcasting lesser demon's worthless screams all across his radio signal. It reminded him of the finer days of his life as a human. He truly enjoyed being a radio host.

And the most peculiar thing? His string would glow on occasion, yet every time he tried to find its source, the red light would dim and then extinguish entirely. It renewed in him a hope he didn't realize he had. His soulmate was alive--well, undead, perhaps, and here in Hell. He must find them.

Centuries passed, Alastor had stopped chasing the glow. A part of him feels hopeless like a dog trying to capture his own tail. Running in circles and always just out of reach. This petulant curiosity and, ugh, longing were not suited to his taste. He'd given up entirely. Maybe you wouldn't want to see him. Have you heard of him? Were you already terrified of him despite never having met yet?

Today, the buzzing static in his brain wouldn't cease. Creating an ever-growing migraine that not even his moderately chilled whiskey could provide relief. Still, the liquor provided a nice burn as it slid down his throat. He downed it in one gulp, sighing at the now empty crystal glass. Empty. Just like him.

A strange buzz tingled in his chest, a tugging. A rippling sensation that electrifies his body to surge forward. Snapping a glance down at his hand to find that the string itself now extended to the floor, leading out beneath the hatch of his radio tower-- and it's glowing a bright fuschia red.

Molting into shadow, Alastor follows it like a wolf scenting blood. Trailing it all the way to the hotel's lobby where he stops dead in his tracks. A woman with great wings folded at her back he had never met before stands before him chatting gently with Charlie. Thankfully, Lucifer was nowhere in sight, but he had a feeling you two were well-acquainted. The string pulled taught and Alastor's no longer beating heart soars at the squeak you emit. The lobby goes silent.

You turn to him with wide, almost owlish eyes. A deep flush coating your cheeks as you rather comically look from your hand to him and back to your hand. The fated rope has considerably shortened, encouraging Alastor to take an experimental step towards you; delighted when you do the same.

Alastor lifts his hand up, a motion you mirror. Your palms meet, fingers lining up against his sharp red claws. His hand greatly shadows yours. The smile you beam up at him is infectious, a soft crease in his eyelids as he returns the gesture with a relaxed gaze. No wonder he couldn't find you. You were angelic-born.

"Hello." You breathe softly. A gentle whisper that makes his mind hum a low tune, gentle static echoing the room, and his smile increased.

Alastor links your fingers together. "Hello, my dear. It's lovely to finally meet you."

|| please don't repost, reuse, or edit my works in any way! I do not give permission. Tumblr is the only site where I post. All characters belong to their rightful owner and the story belongs to me © CHERUBFAE 2024 ||

#hazbin imagines #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin imagine #alastor x you #alastor imagine #alastor x reader

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trashogram · 2 months

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He Chose You (P. 5)

Lucifer/Reader — Lucifer wants you to be the mother of his child. Rated E for the smut. FINALLY

(Hope none of y’all were planning to actually get off though).

“You want a… baby?”

Lucifer looked as stunned as you felt. He reminded you of a spooked deer — frozen and wide-eyed as he waited for imminent death. Or more aptly a dying fish as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly.

“… To hang out with?”

Lucifer found himself in your apartment for the second time, milling about beside your coffee table. He internally scolded himself for fidgeting and shifting from one foot to the other, but it was either that or burn a hole in your head with his hopeful gaze.

“No!” He let out a pathetic laugh. “Well, yes, b-but obviously not just that! I know there’s more to it than just ‘hanging out’.”

“I'm not stupid.” He chortled again before glancing at you. “… I’m not that stupid.”

The King had the uneasy feeling that you might see right through him now; find that inkling of excitement still germinating in his breast, and change your mind. Or worse, you’d withdraw even more and he’d have to feel that dreadful, terrible, no good shame.

He had practically skipped through the halls of his castle (unbeknownst to you) with the contract held tightly between his claws. But as soon as he entered your fireplace, the excitement had curdled like milk. It was replaced by that shame when he looked at you and saw your ashen face.

“Obviously you wouldn’t be doing this for free!” Lucifer gesticulated wildly. “You, you said you wanted to travel right? Right! If you agree, you’d get to travel wherever you want, whenever you want, no strings attached!”

“A-and also! No more costs, period! All your bills and expenses paid forever, in perpetuity, beyond the grave! Capitalism is a bitch? No, capitalism WAS a bitch!”

“No, no! Capitalism will be YOUR BITCH!”

Your resigned countenance combined with the memory of his pitch made Lucifer flinch.

——

You were never very good in a crisis. Or under a severe amount of pressure… or a moderate amount, in all sincerity.

But you’d have thought, even with the prospect of homelessness looming over your head, that you’d have drawn the line at making a Deal with the Devil to avoid it.

Or at least you would’ve taken more than the time it took to draw up a legal contract to accept your fate.

That time maxed out to 6 days.

The scroll unfurled before you. It radiated an ethereal golden light, and lined with a litany of official statements occasionally broken up by blank spaces meant for a (second) signature.

Lucifer Morningstar was signed here and there, in the same glittery calligraphy as was on his business card.

‘This contract must be interpreted by the Governances of Heaven [Heofon, Himmel, Kem, ἄκμων, آسمان, अश्मन्] and any litigations associated with Hell [Hel, Hallju, Kel]…’

‘… By this contract, Party A agrees to carry the Seed of Party B, hereafter known as “Father”, to the extent of natural gestation as governed by the Law of Nature…’

‘… This union shall be recognized only within the parameters listed and not heretofore or after…’

The legal jargon was giving you a headache. You scrubbed a hand down your face, determined to at least read through it all and, if you couldn’t pick out tiny discrepancies, at least find any giant red flags.

(Even if you’d already reserved the excuse that it was easy to be tricked by the Devil when the Devil was insanely good at presenting himself as a theatrical little man who wore his heart on his suit sleeve).

Then again, would it not just be easier to sign away your life without regard to the consequences?

Lucifer twitched when you groaned on your seat at the table. “Problem?”

You rose slowly from your hunched position to make eye contact. “… My pen isn’t working.”

You demonstrated by scribbling randomly on the sticky notepad beside his scroll. Lucifer responded instantly, left hand flexing in the air and, with a flashy poof, snatching a fancy pen out of thin air.

“You can keep it” He said, grinning as you accepted it with a sour look.

“Thanks… show-off.” You began scribbling your name in half-assed cursive on every blank line in sight.

The grin on Lucifer’s face became borderline manic as soon as you’d crossed your ‘t’s and dotted your ‘i’s. His teeth glinted in the light from your cheap-ass lamp and it made you wince as you handed the rolled up document back to him.

“Um, can we maybe skip the kissing stuff?” You asked. “I don’t really want to cut my tongue open.”

His wounded expression tugged rather annoyingly at your heart.

“Sorry.”

The smile he gave your mumbled apology was strained at best. “No, no I understand. The fangs were daunting to me when I first got them, too.”

You cocked your head, thoughts materializing like the web of a spider.

“That’s actually something we should talk about.” You voiced your thoughts. “Are we compatible? Down there?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean — you don’t have teeth down there, too… right?” You asked. “Or some kind of eldritch horror miasma that I can’t touch lest I fall into a coma from ecstasy? Or a tentacle?”

“No!” Lucifer looked mortified. “Wh-what is wrong with you humans?!”

“I’m sorry! I’m just asking!” You cried.

You continued when his expression stayed stagnant. “Look, I’m sorry if I offended you but I’m about to become intimately acquainted with… it, and I think I should be prepared!”

Your hellish companion stood, eyes closed, hands folded over his mouth as if in prayer. He breathed in slowly, then out.

“You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry it’s… it’s been a while since I’ve been with a human.” He reasoned. “It’s good to ask questions. It’s—that’s a good one. Do you have any more?”

That made you pause. There were millions of things you could ask the King of Hell and yet not one thing could properly formulate in your brain.

“Um, I need a second to think about it.” You muttered. “What about you? My setup is pretty basic? I guess? I have a womb. At least I did, at my last physical a year and a half ago.”

Lucifer’s lips twitched upward in a half-smile and there was an answering flutter from your stomach. “I know.”

Your eyebrows shot up and he immediately started babbling. “I mean! I know because the contract went through! The ink would’ve turned red… or disappeared… To be honest, I don't know. I haven’t made a deal in a long time, ha ha. But I remember something happens when there’s a technical issue!”

“Ah,” You felt better with that explanation.

Kind of.

“I thought of a question, actually. Sorry.” You shrugged sheepishly. “It’s probably in the contract but…”

You swallowed down your trepidation. “… I won’t die, right?”

Suddenly unable to look him in the eye, you faced the floor and missed the way Lucifer’s face fell.

“Barring the normal risks that come with being pregnant, nothing else is gonna happen, right? Or if it does, it won’t be agonizing?” You asked quietly.

A moment of silence passed before the ex-Angel’s fingers curled under your chin. Your head rose and you saw Lucifer's eyes soften from something sharper and more determined.

“I will do everything in my power to protect you and the baby.” He said firmly. “Nothing terrible will happen to either of you. I swear.”

It was strange, the effect his words had on you. The jittery feeling in your chest slowly disappeared, and the tears forming in your eyes didn’t fall.

“Okay.” You nodded with a barely there, watery smile.

——

“I’m gonna turn off the lights, ok?” You said over your shoulder.

Lucifer was undoing the last of the buttons of his dress shirt, vest and overcoat already laid neatly over your desk. He met your gaze, eyes bright.

“Of course.” His close-lipped smile struck you, but you flipped the light switch before you could think on it.

A lack of light did very little to suppress Lucifer. He seemed to glow like the star of his namesake, flourishing in the dark and hard to miss. You simply hoped, as you pulled at your sleeves, his shine wouldn’t illuminate the terrain of your body.

Cold air hit your skin, goosebumps rose along your bare arms and shoulders, but you persisted. When everything was shucked save for your underwear, you moved to your bed and realized Lucifer was still standing at the baseboard.

With arms crossed, you assumed the same position at the side of the bed. “Um?”

“Ladies first!” He chimed, as if reading your mind.

You sighed, then slowly climbed onto the mattress and awkwardly pulled the comforter from under your butt. You settled and patted a spot in front of you.

Hesitantly, Lucifer accepted the invitation, and he was sitting next to you before you could blink.

No going back now.

You shifted in your spot uneasily. Fuck, it had been a long time since you had sex.

How did you start this shit again?

No kissing — per your own request. You had half a mind to take it back while you sat there floundering, trying not to let the tangible awkwardness break your resolve entirely.

You could do this. For a lifetime of no work, no bills, no cares.

You could do this.

A bit of movement in the dark caught your eye. You glanced down and realized that Lucifer was twiddling his thumbs waiting for you.

The laugh came bubbling from your throat before you could stop it. Reaching out, you grabbed one of his hands and tugged him forward.

You could see his throat constrict as he swallowed and smiled questioningly. “What?”

Lucifer yelped when you laid back, taking him with you.

——

“Ah! F-fu — Slow down!” You scolded, words muffled as you were repeatedly pushed down into the pillows.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, you just,” Every word was punctuated by a sharp snap of his hips against the flesh of your ass. “Feel. So. Fucking. Good.”

Lucifer moaned loudly as he continued to lose himself in the sensation. You could only groan, irritation building as your partner refused to give you even the most basic attention. The frustration peaked quickly, then unraveled as his pleasured moans and squeaks caused your stomach to somersault over and over again.

You clenched around his cock when he whined, thrusting into you so deeply you felt the base of him stretching your hole that much wider.

Well, fuck you for finding the sound of a masculine voice cracking the hottest thing in all of creation.

But it was actually getting you there, so what were you complaining for?

Eyes closed, you focused on the feeling, trying to jump off that precipice with only penetration. It reminded you of when you were a teen, awkwardly feeling around down there. Of trying to find the appeal in your fingers inside of somewhere so sensitive against the fear of hurting yourself. All while you worked yourself up with your own imagination.

In a perfect world, you would’ve moved on from that stage of life with no repeat performances. Hopefully, it could still be salvag—

You gripped the pillows that hadn’t tumbled off the juddering mattress when Lucifer’s claws dug into your hips. He pulled you as close as humanly possible with a strangled yelp, shivering, shuddering, stammering incoherence as warmth flooded your insides.

Fuck’s sake.

——

You were disappointed, but not surprised. All you could do after the fact was bury yourself in the covers and watch Lucifer catch his breath beside you.

Not finishing aside, exhaustion from the entire ordeal made you indolent and your thoughts hazy. You studied your partner as he calmed down, clearly trying not to be too close to you now that the deed was done.

Lucifer’s hair was in disarray, the space between his eyes and across his cheeks rosy like the blots parallel to his smile.

“Hey.”

Lucifer looked at you innocently, waiting. You could physically feel your walls crumbling down despite yourself.

“Come here.” You murmured, hand sliding beneath the covers to touch that poreless skin.

Damn you and your soft heart.

‘Actually…’ You had Lucifer in your arms, his body still warm. Once he was in your grasp, the King melted against you.

He looked a little afraid as you tilted him up by the chin to look at you. The Devil had surprisingly soulful eyes, questioning whatever you had in store.

The tiny thought that he was being way too vulnerable drew a taut, uncomfortable feeling your chest.

“Kiss me.”

Lucifer blinked in rapid succession — surprise, wonder, confusion and hope bloom all at once on his unusual face.

It made you laugh in the quiet, comfortable darkness of your room before you yourself leaned in and met his lips with your own. The line of Lucifer’s mouth trembled, but he reciprocated with only minor hesitation.

* Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision, @marydragneell, @lafy-taffy, @fandom-imagines1,

Please let me know I missed tagging you!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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lomlhwa · 2 months

Text

portrait (y.jh)

pairing: bf!jeonghan x gf!reader

preview: your boyfriend is so pretty. so, how can you turn him down when he asks you to draw him while he eats you out?

tags/warnings: fem reader, oral (f.receiving), pussy drunk hannie, lots of dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, pet names (pretty baby, mama, my love), drawing while fucking

trigger warnings: n/a

w/c: 724

song recs for this fic: touch tank by quinnie

a/n: listened to some asmr on this topic and jeonghan was the first person to come to mind (sorry this is so short)

“whatcha doing, pretty baby?” jeonghan asks as he walks into your shared bedroom. you look up at him and smile, shaking your pencil at him. “i’m trying to draw.”

your boyfriend stands at the end of your bed and runs his hands up your shins. “what are you drawing?” he asks, goosebumps appearing in the wake of his fingers. “nothing. I'm uninspired,” you sigh, putting down your pencil and paper.

“i have an idea,” jeonghan says, his voice pitch dropping low. you can tell by the tone of his voice, it's something sinister. your raise your eyebrow at him and cross your arms. jeonghan bends your legs at the knees and crawls between your legs. he rests his pretty face on your stomach and looks up at you.

“you could…” he trails off, dipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants. “draw me while eat your pretty little pussy.” your heartbeat picks up immediately and your face flushes red. “r-really?” you ask, almost unsure of whether or not you heard him right.

jeonghan nods, tugging on your pants. your hips lift on their own volition, allowing him to completely strip your bottom half. he presses soft kisses to the plush skin of your thighs. “what do you say, pretty baby?” you chew on the back of your pencil as you nod shyly. jeonghan’s tongue darts out out of habit, licking your inner thigh.

“make sure to draw me real prettily. i know how much you love how i look between your legs,” he gives you a playful wink before diving into your wetness. he slurps at your hole, drinking up the slick that has been seeping out of you since he came into your room. you bring a shaky hand down to your page and begin to sketch your boyfriend’s current position.

“fuck, you taste so fucking sweet. my favorite candy,” he mumbles into your pussy, sending delicious vibrations through your whole body. you trace the lines of your boyfriend’s perfect face and his perfect hair. you sketch the way his hair falls when he gets really focused on your wet heat.

his tongue abuses your clit and you can’t help but lose focus on your drawing and throw your head back. “fuck, hannie,” you moan out, biting your lip. “keep drawing, mama. i wanna see how i look in your eyes while i make you feel so good.” you force your eyes to refocus themselves and start drawing again.

you slowly start to shade in the shadows that are cast by the sun from your bedroom window. they make jeonghan look even more ethereal. “you’re so tasty, baby. the prettiest pussy. it’s all mine.” out of nowhere, he wraps his arms around your waist and holds you down to eat you like a mad man. his tongue in incessant and covers the surface area of your pussy with insatiable hunger. “oh fuck,” you choke out, your orgasm rising with every movement of jeonghan’s mouth.

“baby, baby, please i’m gonna cum,” you squirm and try to get away from his mouth, your core being so sensitive. “give me your cum, my love. let me drink you up,” jeonghan holds your thighs open with strong hands and does his best to get your orgasm out of you.

abruptly, you reach your high, your thighs clamping down on jeonghan’s head for dear life. but, he doesn’t stop his almost inhuman pace. you let out a strained laugh as another orgasm builds. “hannie, oh my god,” you push on his head, trying to get him to come up for air. his arms keep your bottom half locked against his face. “give me another one, mama. i know you can do it. give it to me. fucking give me it,” he orders.

another orgasm crashes over you, your entire body thrashing. your thighs tremble around jeonghan, your nerves taking over your body. you can barely feel your legs anymore.

your boyfriend gives some final kitten licks to your cunt before pulling away. he wipes your juices off his mouth before smiling oh so innocently at you.

“well, lemme see the drawing.” your shaky hands pick up your sketchbook and turn it to show jeonghan the beautiful drawing you made of him. “damn, that’s what i look like down there to you? maybe i should just live there.”

#lomlhwa #seventeen #svt #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #seventeen smut #svt smut #jeonghan smut #yoon jeonghan smut

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iceunhie · 3 months

Text

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⊹ unexpected development ! ꒱ ˎˊ˗

summary ⁠☆ you get transported into your favorite otome game’s world as a shitty side character with a raging death flag. you try to prevent your inevitable destruction... but it doesn't go according to plan as much as you'd hope.

notes ☆ of course it's another scaramouche fic except this time it's plot is manhwa inspired

“This trashy game!” you curse, watching the pitch black GAME OVER screen linger in your phone. Happy music plays despite the current cg of your character at the hands of the tyrant character slash love interest Scaramouche. You sigh, tapping on the back button. “I was so close to completing his route… stupid, stupid game, ugh…”

Teyvat’s Seven Stars was a new otome game that you'd tried out for fun, bored out of your mind. The amazing art and soundtrack garnered your interest, not to mention the male leads were totally your type!

It had an array of tropes and spared no expense of flowery scenes and fanservicey excerpts that made you play despite its massive cashgrab feature. Heart fluttering near death scenes! Action packed romantic scenes with the main characters! It was consuming you and you loved it.

Even if the Scaramouche route was testing your patience.

You get that he was the most difficult to conquer out of all of them, but really, one! wrong! move! ….and an immediate gameover. Life sucks when he's your favorite character, and when your favorite character was notoriously known for having a horrid and difficult complete clear route that no one has completed yet, of course you needed to complete it, no matter what!

Damn it, now you've run out of love points to restart another run. Fuck you, system! Stupid trashy money grabbing game! You put down your phone, closing it. An immediate heavy weight settles on your shoulders, making you feel sleepy as you clutch your phone to bed.

Tomorrow… you'll complete his route for sure…

[ TEYVAT’S SEVEN STARS SYSTEM ACTIVATED! RUNNING GAME FILE NOW ]

Ah. You should've known what was coming.

—

[ CHARACTER FILE: [NAME] [LAST NAME] - CROWN PRINCE KUNIKUZUSHI’S BETROTHED! ]

What the fuck.

You think you've lost feeling in your jaw when the glare of the system shines bright, mocking you.

“[Name], you're awake!” You turn to the sound, and you face probably the most beautiful person you've ever seen. No, what the hell. You've seen him before.

Beautiful silky dark hair, glossy electric indigo eyes, a perpetual aura of ethereal lightness…. the game descriptions weren't lying after all. yes, you weren't dreaming. This was Scaramouche, or should you say at this point in time… Kunikuzushi?

He immediately clings to you. Oh. Oh. Well fuck. “I… uh.”

Scara- ahem, Kunikuzushi’s eyes are littered with tears and oh no you're a weak hearted person for your favorite character. “I'm so glad you're okay! I'm sorry, my mother- I mean, I'm so glad you're okay.”

The rest of the moments is a blur when your… fiance? betrothed? fills you in on what happened. Your mind is fuzzy and you can only piece together just a rough summary of what point in the game you're in.

So, you are currently three years early from the main story. Unfortunately, you are not either of the main protagonists Lumine or Aether. No, the system apparently hates you for being a hater and gave you the most egregious role.

A side character. A side character who barely even appears in the story, left to be trampled on by the story's plot. What's more, you're in the timeline wherein the current Kunikuzushi doesn't take the name Scaramouche because his Mother, the lone Queen Raiden Ei left him when he could not pass the Inazuma kingdom’s test to be worthy of the gnosis.

He took the name Scaramouche after being trained by the shady organization known as the Fatui, the main villainous force in the game and usurped his mother. In other words, a blackened tyrant character!

...And you were the betrothed his mother set for him - executed in the future because he didn't want any trace of Ei’s influence. Amazing.

The future Kunikuzushi would be an arrogant, tsundere and soft-for-only-one-person type of character, but now, he was like a gentle, tucked away from the world young prince.

Wait…. wasn’t he also gullible before?! Very cute, but it's no wonder he blackened so quickly with such a naive personality!

You, well, technically, the character [Name] [Last Name] ended up in this situation after they threatened to leave Kunikuzushi because he was far too fragile for their taste. A side character who’d contributed to Scaramouche’s blackening and paid for it with their life. That was who you were.

Okay, now you pity this boy a lot. He already had a traumatic childhood with Ei not giving him enough love and therefore a plethora of issues, and he'd even end up being a crazy tyrant who stopped at nothing to get the main protagonist in his grasp! For your death flag not to happen, you HAD to do something about that.

You had no choice.

To survive this horrendous fate, you came up with a plan. And that would be Plan give-kunikuzushi-all-the-love-in-the-word-before-he-meets-the-protagonist-and-turn-into-a-blackened-dark-tyrant!

Okay, lengthy plan, but to plan ahead is to be smart, so you can take care of the name later.

—

So far so good, this plan of yours. Plan get-kunikuzushi-to-turn-into-a-sparkly-prince character and not his blackened self was going well! (You gave up on thinking of a cool name) Thank god for cliche romance novels.

So far, you've increased your proximity to him, including him to spend time with you, showering him with bouts of affection and care. And so far, it's been paying off. The once secluded Prince has become so cute and so sweet!

You have to pat yourself on the back for this. You were doing the protagonist a huge favor that now they had a wonderful love interest in their sights for future reference.

Although, if there was one nitpick you had on your conduct, it would be the fact that Kunikuzushi didn't take kindly to others aside from you, and would even be panicked, utterly devastated if you even brought up the mere mention of leaving.

“Break… our engagement in the future?” if it weren't for him looking shell-shocked and deathly pale, the furrow on Kunikuzushi’s face would've been cute. “No! I don't want that! You aren't planning to leave me, are you?”

He gives you the most horrendous god kneeling look of a plea, and of course you drop the subject immediately.

“It was a joke, of course. I'd never want to break our engagement!” you hurriedly reassure, gently taking his hands in yours.

Kunikuzushi looks at you, all puppy eyes and pink cheeks. So cute. Who wouldn't want to stay by his side? You reassure him, “Whatever happens, I'll always stay by your side, okay?”

He looks at your intertwined hands with an unreadable expression on his face. “Do you promise?”

You nod. “I promise, Kuni.”

He nods, gripping your hands tighter, and his expression rivals a blazing sun, brimming with conviction as he pulls you in for a huge hug.

And of course, who wouldn't turn down an opportunity to hug their favorite character?

Surely this time, you’ll definitely escape the death flag and horrendous side character ending, right?!

You don't notice the shadow on Kuni’s face when the mere mention of being separated from you comes up.

In the back of your mind, you wonder what would happen if your Kunikuzushi met the protagonist. Would he immediately fall for them? you wonder, and an uncharacteristic pang of discomfort tugs at your chest. Ah, what would it matter.

You smile at the gentle, pristine and kind Kunikuzushi that's currently excitedly telling you about how Ei praised his sword skills after he beat his younger sister. Even if the main protagonist would come here, you could keep this adorable Kunikuzushi for yourself for just a little longer.

You kiss his cheek, and he heats up. Yes, the future can wait for now.

How the hell did it come to this?

“You told me you'd always stay by my side, right?” a hand slicked with blood is resting on the side of your face. Electric indigo eyes, these ones now having a ruthless glint to them, stare up at your own. “I've removed everything else that can take you away from me. Now, you have no reason to leave.”

By remove, he meant the man who'd decided to make a move on you after you went to the gardens for some fresh air. Hence the blood on his hands and sword, hence the reason why there's a dead body by your feet.

The once adorable and fair-faced Kunikuzushi still turned into Scaramouche after all, and you failed to prevent his blackening. He was truly, undoubtedly the same game Scaramouche.

But… Why was he acting like this? Wasn't this the exclusive feature only the protagonist should be experiencing?

He presses a kiss to your forehead, then the back of your palm. You blush.

Yes, he is now an extremely dangerous individual capable of executing anyone he deems appropriate to just for the sake of it, and yes, this same man is kneeling before you as you're just about to leave after the main storyline cg act just started. And yes, like the protagonist, you should stay far, far away from him.

But could you really? When he was pleading you with such an expression of longing and yearning? He takes your hand to caress it to the side of his face, eyes haughty and grin unsettling, gosh was he so… so attractive, like that.

“You won't leave, right?” Why was he so…. so sweet? Why was this scene structured as if you were the one he wanted to be with, not the protagonist? “You promised me, after all.”

….And why on earth did your heart leap out of your chest when he said he wanted you to stay?

(It was hard to pretend you didn't know why when the smile on your face said otherwise.)

1.5k words, only the real ones know that ive been planning a cliche otome game au since day 1 I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENED TO ME WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS FIC 😭 might turn this into a series if people like this though <3

@ MHIIEEE : do not repost, copy or plagiarize or claim my content or work as your own.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #scaramouche drabble #kunikuzushi fluff #mhie's spirals #teyvat's seven stars ☆

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woso-dreamzzz · 3 months

Text

Teenage Dirtbag II

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: It goes well until it doesn't

It's an honour, Mapi thinks, to watch you work.

She knows that she's talented with a pencil but that doesn't hold a candle to the way that you can create such detail on a wall with just some spray paint. You wield the cans expertly as you finish off the shading of the Barca crest on Ingrid's shirt and take a step back to survey your work.

It's picture-perfect and Mapi is stumped at how it's taken your family this long to recognise your talents.

"Alright," Ingrid says," Come on, picture time."

You groan but allow your sister to shepherd you in front of the mural to take a picture. She snaps several, inspecting each of them before finally nodding, satisfied.

She's been doing it for every stage of the process, to document it. She took pictures when you had drawn up your stencils, when you did your base layer and when you did your details.

It's a little annoying but you know you'll be glad later on when you have the pictures to post on your Instagram.

Mapi helps you cover the mural with cardboard so only the very bottom is shown. You grab your blue and red can and stab them with the scissors you've brought with you.

"You might need to back up," You say to your sister and her girlfriend," This will explode in a sec."

The cans are letting out a high-pitched squeaking sound and you usher Ingrid and Mapi back a few steps. You've blocked off the rest of your mural so only the bottom will be splattered with blaugrana colours.

"How do they work?" Mapi wonders aloud.

"Well," You reply, not turning your eyes away from the squealing of your cans," Liquid paint is mixed with a pressurised gas that remains liquid at room temperature. The ones at home that I use have di-methyl ether but I think these have a mix of propane and butane." You shrug. "So I think that means the solvent in them is acetone."

You look over at the shocked look on Mapi's face just as the cans finally explode.

"What?"

"You're incredibly smart," Is what she says in answer and you kind of shrug as you go to collect the cans and take down the cardboard.

"Okay." Ingrid claps her hands together. "Another picture. Go on."

"Ingrid," You groan," Do I have to?"

"Yes," She laughs," Go on. I'm waiting."

You begrudgingly stand in front of it but can't keep the smile off your face.

Mapi notices a change in you the following days. You've relaxed considerably in the house now. You try harder at your schoolwork, pulling your grades up to heights that Mapi could never even dream of. You're more social than ever - though you never go anywhere without your sketchbook.

The team seem pretty entranced by you as well, demanding to meet the artist that Ingrid and Mapi found to do all the murals. You've been making bank from them, drawing portraits and making paintings.

You seem happier now, less hostile than before and Mapi can get the tiniest of glimpses into how you and Ingrid used to interact just by the way you hang out now.

Ingrid's arm easily rests upon your shoulders and Norwegian is a lot more common in the house now. You happily stick to her side and proudly show her your grades when they get released.

There's no indication that you're holding something in until Mapi comes home to frosty indifference between you and your sister.

You're stewing at the kitchen table, scrawling some kind of angry swirls in your sketchpad that you're still managing to make look artistic while Ingrid is muttering angrily under her breath as she talks on the phone.

You keep throwing glares over at her before scratching your pencil across your page again.

"Hey," Mapi says," What's going on?"

You scoff. "I don't know. Why don't you ask golden child, Ingrid? Perfect, perfect Ingrid." Your tone is vicious and mean and Ingrid looks over at you to glare. You sneer back at her before standing up and going to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

"What's up with her?"

Ingrid sighs, saying goodbye to whoever's on the phone. "I don't know," She says," I just came in and we had an argument."

"About what? She's done her homework, right?"

"Mum and Dad," Ingrid replies," She thinks they're showing favouritism again."

Mapi holds her tongue. She knows that Ingrid thinks the world of your parents and it's clear you're fairly disillusioned with them. Mapi knows that there are definitely hints of favouritism from when she's seen all of you interact with each other but she's not too sure if it's her place to speak up about it.

"I mean," Ingrid scoffs," They're talking about bringing her home now that her grades are going open. I think my brother said that they're willing to let her keep art as a hobby. They'll pay for all the supplies she wants so long as she gets a good degree."

Mapi sighs and darts her eyes away. "Ingrid..." She says finally.

"What? Mapi? What is it?"

"Nothing..."

"No, tell me."

"I don't think she would be happy going home," Mapi says eventually," I know you love your parents but...You have to admit they have high expectations-"

"Because they love us."

"Yes, I know but..." Mapi's eyes linger on your closed door. "Have you ever thought that she might not want to leave?" She bites at her lip, wary if she should say what she's going to say next. "Maybe the distance from your parents is what she needs. You have to admit, Ingrid, your parents aren't the nicest about her passions. You saw her when she was doing that mural. You know that this is what she wants to do with her life."

Ingrid looks at your door too. "I know," She says," But Mum and Dad really want her to come home. They think maybe law school."

"And what do you think? Do you think she would enjoy being in law school? Do you?"

"No." Ingrid can't stop staring at the closed door. "But...What about her friends? Maybe if she goes back to Norway, she can see them again."

"No offense, but your sister is the biggest lone wolf I've ever met. She's happy here, with us. She's more supported than she's ever been before. You need to put your foot down. She stays with us."

Ingrid sighs, looking at her phone screen. Your parents are calling again and she angrily swipes to reject the call.

She knocks on your door.

"Hey, can I come in?" She asks," I think we need to have a little chat."

There's no answer.

"Come on," She says," It's not a bad talk. We can get sushi after."

There's still no answer.

"I'm coming in," Ingrid warns," So if you're shirtless or something, cover up."

She pushes the door open, expecting to find you at your desk with your chunky headphones on but she finds nothing of the sight. The room is completely empty and Ingrid shoves her head out of your open window to spy the drainpipe that you've clearly climbed down.

"You already talk? That was quick," Mapi says as Ingrid comes back into the living room," Are we getting sushi already? 'Cause I would kill for some sushi right about now."

"Get the keys," Ingrid says," She's left out the window."

"Down the drainpipe?" Mapi asks," Damn, I only taught her how to do that for emergencies."

Ingrid sighs deeply, massaging her head with her hand. She'd deal with the clear bad influence Mapi has on you later as she whips out her phone to track your location.

You've made good progress from the time that you stormed into your room to now, making it pretty far across the city to the more rundown side of town that Ingrid knows for a fact has boarded up buildings from when businesses had to close during covid.

Mapi drives them down to some kind of packing warehouse that looks like had been broken into long before you came to stay. It's completely filthy and Ingrid just hopes that there are no squatters to contend with.

She finds you pretty quickly on the second floor. You've curled yourself into the corner on the floor, with tears streaming down your face.

Opposite you, is another mural.

It's a heartbreaking sight.

Yet again, your work is picture-perfect and, somehow, that makes it even worse.

In the background is a little girl. She's got her hands pressed up against a window, peering in. The foreground is dominated by a family. Most of their faces are made up of angry black and red swirls. Only one other person has a face.

It's clear who it is and Ingrid sits down next to you.

You don't say anything to her. You just move to lean against her. You press your head into her neck and sob.

"You're not going anywhere," She says," You're staying right here with me and Mapi."

#woso x reader #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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shadowdaddies · 4 months

Note

I have another request! Your writing is just amazing.

Would love an Az x reader where she knows they are mates but doesn’t tell him because she can’t have kids and she thinks he will reject it if he finds out. So she starts pulling away or gets upset or something and then the bond snaps for him and he is confused as to why she doesn’t want it.

She finally tells him and thinks he will reject her because of it but it goes from angst to fluff and he’s all cute and says she is all he wants and he doesn’t care. Happy ending

thank you so much lovely! I love your requests, I think they're perfect for Az

All I've Ever Needed

Azriel x Reader

Leaned over the balcony, you swirled the champagne in your glass as the stars began to shoot across the sky, bathing Velaris in ethereal light. The quiet scuff of boots sounded next to you, a smile gracing your lips as you thought about the only person who would wear boots to Starfall.

Glancing up, you were met with hazel eyes, golden in this light as they focused on you. “You’re missing the show,” you nodded to the skyline in front of you.

“Am I?” Azriel murmured, so quiet you hardly heard him. Still, his gaze turned towards the sky, a comfortable silence wrapping around the pair of you like a warm blanket on this cold early Spring evening.

Azriel turned back towards you, inhaling deeply as he opened his mouth to speak when a rogue spirit soared towards him, glowing pale green light splattering throughout his onyx hair. Your laugh echoed loudly through the open night air, bringing a rare, broad smile to Azriel’s lips. His face lit up brighter than the stars that glowed like a halo around him, and the snap in your chest as the universe pulled you towards him was undeniable.

Breathless, you clutched your chest as emotions swirled within you. Mate, my mate, your heart chanted, as Azriel’s hand began to reach for yours. A high-pitched giggle sounded from below, interrupting the moment as little Nyx ran towards you.

“Uncle Azzy!” the toddler squealed in delight, laughter ringing through the air as Azriel lifted his nephew into his broad arms. “You have stars in your hair,” the small boy noted, chubby fingers reaching to tug on Azriel’s wavy tresses.

Azriel shook his head, Nyx laughing as stardust sprinkled all around the both of them. “There, now you have stars too,” Az murmured, setting Nyx back down for the child to run into Feyre’s arms.

“Happy Starfall,” she greeted you with a kiss to your cheek before turning to Azriel, a soft laugh leaving the High Lady as Nyx eagerly reached back for Azriel once more. “You are so good with him,” Feyre noted to Az, grinning at the shadowsinger’s blush from her compliment. “I can’t wait to see you with children of your own one day.”

The perfect bubble of this evening burst. Heart dropping, the skies of Velaris now a shattered snow globe as you registered Feyre’s words. Neither she or Azriel knew what you’d learned long ago from Madja, that you would never be able to bear children.

And now, as you watched Azriel’s blush deepen, your mate smiling while he played with his nephew, you realized how cruel the Cauldron must be for your mate to be someone you could never satisfy. Setting down your flute of champagne, you excused yourself as you abandoned not only the party, but any chance you’d hoped for with Azriel.

Months passed as you ignored the shadowsinger, ignored the way your heart called to him, how much you missed his kindness and friendship. Being the understanding person that he was, Azriel didn’t push you, didn’t try to force you when he noticed you distancing yourself. It somehow hurt more, knowing that the person who understood you most was still there, giving you the space you needed despite how much you wanted to run into his arms. But you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him, tell him how much you loved him, trap him by telling that you were his mate when you could never give him the children he evidently wanted.

Walking down the streets of the Rainbow, Mor pressured you about Azriel’s birthday. “I know you two aren’t as close, and I won’t push about it, but you are going to his birthday tonight aren’t you?”

You sighed, running a hand over your face as you deliberated the question you’d been asking yourself for the past several weeks. “Of course I’ll go, Mor. We are still friends,” you promised, knowing that as much as you might dread this evening, missing Azriel’s birthday would cause too many issues among your family.

Mor left you alone, headed to meet Feyre at the art studio. You walked down the street, looking in the windows of art galleries and clothiers when something pulled you towards a small jewelry shop. You heart fluttered in your chest when you noticed the silver ring in the window, a small cobalt blue gem in the center.

You opened the door without thinking, your feet guiding you to where the jewelry sat in its display. The shopkeeper approached you, her kind green eyes twinkling as she looked between you and the ring.

“That is a beautiful piece. I’ve seen several males pass by admiring it. And we can do same-day engraving,” she spoke, her velvet voice thinly veiling her eagerness to make the sale.

As the idea came to you, you flashed her a smile. “I’ll take it.”

Hands shaking with nerves, you shyly maneuvered through the doorway to the River House, gift in hand as you made your way to the living room where your family was gathered. Mor approached you first, blonde hair flying as she ran towards you to wrap you in a hug. Handing you a drink, she looped her arm in yours, guiding you to the center of the room where you set the gift on the table.

Hazel eyes bored into you, Azriel staring unabashedly as he approached. “Thank you for coming,” he whispered, a lump in his throat as he looked over the gauzy lavender dress you donned. “You look beautiful.”

Blushing under his attention, you willed your heart to stop pounding against your chest as you spoke. “Of course. Happy birthday, Azriel,” you murmured, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek before turning to greet the others.

Near the end of the evening, everyone was enjoying the beautiful cake Elain had prepared when Mor giddily clapped her hands. “Presents, now!” she demanded, shoving her own gift into Azriel’s hands. Azriel unwrapped the present, pink paper torn apart to reveal a pair of green, fuzzy earmuffs. “They’re to match the scarf I got you last Solstice!” Mor exclaimed, clearly proud of herself for such a thoughtful gift.

Azriel gave her a polite smile and a thank you, moving to unwrap the next gifts. From Cassian and Nesta, a new pair of boots, since apparently once of the Valkyries had thrown up on his other pair during training last week. From Feyre and Rhys, he was given a painting - a memory of the annual snowball fight from the last year, with Nyx included.

“Who is this from?” Azriel asked, holding up the small box with blue paper and black ribbon. You shyly raised your hand, a nervous smile on your face as Azriel’s eyes softened. “Thank you,” he said, never breaking eye contact.

“You haven’t even opened it yet,” you retorted with a giggle. Azriel’s eyes sparkled at your laughter, his hands deftly untying the ribbon as he carefully opened the box. He simply stared at it for a moment, silver lining his eyes as he held the box in his hands.

“I know you like to wear rings, and if you look at the side, I had it engraved for you,” you explained. Azriel carefully took the ring from the box, turning it over to see the outline of Ramiel, with Carynth shining above, and Azriel, Rhysand’s, and Cassian’s initials below.

Sliding the ring on his finger, Azriel looked to you, a look of shock crossing his features as he stumbled back, knocking his chair backwards in the process. You forgot to breathe for a moment, the only thought your brain able to process that Azriel now knew that you were mates. Standing up quickly, you uttered a goodbye as you ran out the front door in escape.

You made it halfway across the lawn when shadows swirled in front of you, Azriel towering over you as he appeared, anger swirling in his eyes. “You knew.”

You didn’t say anything, just held your chin high as you willed the tears not to fall. Azriel didn’t let up though, taking another step towards you. “How long have you known that we are mates?”

Eyes shuttering, you took a deep breath. “Since Starfall,” you eked out in a broken whisper.

Azriel’s face contorted in hurt and anger, his own voice shaky as he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me? All of this time avoiding me, why wouldn’t you tell me that you didn’t want me?”

Something between a shocked laugh and a choking sound forced its way from your throat as you gaped at him. “Don’t want you? Azriel, all I want is you! It’s been agony trying to stay away, to keep the bond from snapping and trapping you with me. You deserve better, Az. You deserve more than I can give to you.”

Trying to step around him to walk away, Azriel swiftly slid into your path, the ring on his finger cool against your cheek as he guided your gaze to his. “How could you ever think that you wouldn’t deserve me? If anything, I don’t deserve you. You are kind, beautiful, thoughtful... You’re more than I could have dreamed of.”

You allowed yourself to lean into his touch for only a moment before you softly pulled his hand away from your face. You drew his hand up, clutching it in your own, savoring the warmth of his touch. “Azriel, I can’t have children. Madja told me years ago, it’s just not possible for me. And seeing you on Starfall with Nyx, you were so happy. And I cannot give you that. I cannot give you everything you want, can’t give you a family.”

Azriel’s hand wrapped around yours, pulling you into him, one arm wrapped firmly around your waist. Holding your chin between his fingers, he tilted your gaze to him. “You are my family. You are everything I could ever want, and more.” His lips brushed yours, the feeling of his smile against your own sending a burst of joy through you as you leaned up to kiss your mate.

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