#🪽♡

[slipng]

angel wings ༉‧₊˚  𓇼   . 🪽

[petaltexturedskies]

Emily Dickinson, in a letter to Catherine May Scott wr. c. August 1848

[sadiesdoll]

saw a post on here whining about how people write sevika as butch-coded, give her a daddy kink, make her g!p, or give her a breeding kink and apparently that's "turning her into a straight man." like... be serious. you're not uncomfortable with her being "written like a man" , you're uncomfortable with butches. full stop.

the second a woman leans into masculinity in a way that isn't soft, sanitized, or made palatable for you, suddenly it's "bad writing" and "unrealistic".

and let's talk about the outrage around her being written as g!p or having a breeding kink because that's where the mask really slips. the disgust some of you express the second a woman (especially a masculine one) is written with a dick or engages in a kink associated with "male" sexuality? yeah that's not just discomfort. that's lowkey transphobia and butchphobia.

because what you're saying is: if a woman takes up sexual space, masculine sexual space, then she's no longer a woman to you. that her queerness, her dominance, her presentation, makes her "basically a man." and that mindset erases trans women, erases butch women, erases gnc lesbians. all because it doesn't fit your narrow, cis-femme-centered view of what a woman should look like.

sevika is canonically masc presenting, she will never be the feminine, soft, dainty woman you want her to be. she is a BUTCH!! Deal with it!!

stop acting like masculinity in women is something to be fixed or softened. Not every female character needs to be nurturing, passive, or femme-coded to be “valid.” there’s absolutely NOTHING wrong with exploring her through a butch-dominant lens.

[byshens]

hii ! I wanted to ask if u could do jealous subby sunoo? I never really found some so i wanted to ask u!!😓

Love ur work!!

helloooo anonie ! so sorry this got to you late! tysm for requesting & i appreciate your love for my works! i hope you stay tuned. 🎀 reqs + hard hours open ─── send your thoughts !! 💌

ᝰ.ᐟ jealous sex, sub! sunoo, soft dom! reader, unprotected sex (wrap it), breeding kink, petnames—pretty girl, baby, good boy, angel. ─── f. reader 861 ,, back to the catalogue!

sunoo didn’t like sharing.

he didn’t like how touchy some of your friends were, how you just seemed to be so oblivious to their actions. he didnt like how close they were with you, how hard you laugh at their jokes or how red you get when they compliment you.

he didn’t like sharing.

you were his. and it seemed like he had to show you who you belonged to, since you seemed to have forgotten.

“fuck, baby—“ your moan got cut off by sunoo thrusting hard into you, your body jolting forward.

“oh my god,” sunoo whined loudly, his rhythm sloppy but quick, his hands trying to keep your hips close to his, making him fall deep into your heat.

you were currently on your knees, face resting against the bed as sunoo ruthlessly fucked into your cunt, his whimpers loud in the room.

sunoo had enough with all the playing, watching how you would let your friends be so close, he couldnt watch it anymore. and once you both got home, he dragged you up to the room and here we are.

something about how angry sunoo gets whenever he's jealous just turns you on so much, his gaze would be piercing, stern and cold.

but the second he's slipped into your pussy, his mind just clouds with need, and desire to fill you up.

it was cute and honestly fucking hot, how he lives to please you, how he worships you and your body, the desire to do whatever you say because you just have that effect on him, even when he was pissed at the thought of it minutes ago, he's ruining himself for you now.

“fuck, please—“ he moaned, his hips slapping against your ass, skin burning, his cock easily sliding in and out from how wet you are for him.

“harder, baby.” you said, voice shaking as you tried to push your hips back against his, legs shaking with pleasure.

sunoo listened and his rhythm got rougher, slamming into your pussy like he wanted to push you through the bed. your moans got louder, fingers grabbing a handfull of the sheets.

sunoo was in full bliss, his hard cock fucking between your sweet warm walls, feeling how they sucked him in deep with every thrust. he moved one hand to your back and pushed you further down, allowing him to slip deeper into you, earning a cry from him and a loud moan from yourself.

“always so happy around your friends—“ he grumbled in a whiney tone, the anger from before building back up in him as he watched your body jolt forward with each pound into you. you only smiled to yourself, loving how jealous he gets over you.

“y-you know i’m yours,” you replied back, voice stuttering from the force of his hips. “don’t you, angel?”

sunoo gasped at the petname, his hips jolting forward in a sloppy manner, his stomach twisting in need. sunoo was indeed a sucker for petnames and you knew it. you knew everything he liked and always used to your advantage.

“say it again, please,” he begged. and you obeyed his wish.

“i’m all yours, angel.” you moaned out loudly, his pace quickened, his thrusts going back to those desperate sloppy actions and that told you that he was close to releasing, needing to fill you up.

“show me i’m yours, baby, breed me.” you smirked, turning your head to the side just a bit more to glance up at sunoo, watching his face be flushed with a pretty red color, his forehead sweating slightly, his face crinkled in pleasure. you watched how his eyes filled with desire from your words, knowing how much he loved to fill you up.

“‘m gunna breed you, mmph? gonna mark your insides with my load,” he whined out loudly, leaning back to angle his thrusting differently, which now allowed him to push his entire cock inside you, hitting all the right spots for you.

your back arched heavily, pushing yourself back against him as you continued to moan out for him, your fingers gripping tight on the sheets.

“please, please,” you begged and that was the end for sunoo, he released his load into your pussy and fell on top of your back, his left arm keeping him from crushing you into the bed. you came close after him, your body twitching from the sensation, heart pounding.

you felt full, with both his cock and his cum, feeling the sticky liquid slowly find its way to slip out of your walls and down your thigh. sunoo allowed both of you to calm down from your highs before he pulled out, giggling at how you whined from the empty feeling.

“oh, my good boy, come here.” you spoke softly once you had changed your position. you were laying on your back against the headboard when sunoo smiled softly at you and moved around so he was now cuddled up in your arms, your fingers gently running through his hair.

“my pretty girl.” he whispered as he gave your neck a kiss. you nodded, adoring how cute he sounded.

“that’s right, angel, all yours.”

💌 ( wish to be in the permanent taglist? apply here! )

@liumoonlight @mimiimiku @unbel1ve4ble

© byshens. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or post onto another platforms without my consent.

[ohdearlucifer]

᪔ ๋࣭ ˶·̩͙ ˔ ·̩͙˶ცི☆ ★ ⌢ ۪۫　 ପଓ *´¨`*.¸¸.☆

[cherryshh]

　 ❥ 　 ∿ 　 I, furina, will use this trial to show the true meaning of justice!　 ｡｡｡ ͏͏͏ ～

　 Furina Genshin　 ☆　 rentry graphics

　 rq by anon ◞　 ♥︎ if using

(( we enjoyed this request a lot , stan furina ! ))

[ma1dita]

play pretend

a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> said he likes crazy | next -> a wish your heart makes words: 5.1k (holy shit) summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader) a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm (posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real. 

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your Angelface and his Trouble. 

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?” 

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him. 

Idiot. 

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!” 

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!” 

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno Trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part. 

But that’s kind of the problem. 

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke. 

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!” 

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back. 

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound. 

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window. 

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?” 

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side. 

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?” 

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy. 

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more? 

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling. 

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability. 

And who would want to love someone so difficult? 

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know? 

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck. 

Fuck. 

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape. 

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other). 

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… you have a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on. 

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not Trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father. 

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….” 

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent. 

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act needy if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…” 

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, Trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, Angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder. 

“You think I’m not scared of us either, Trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[su1cidesadie]

Ok new boyfriend he’s so cuteness… but I only have ONE photo of him & i genuinely cannot find anything else.

[fromdove]

› BEHIND THE WINGS ; A GIRL NAMED DOVE ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆

<══════════✴︎══════════⊹═══════════>

— 𝓔very 𝓣ime 𝓘 𝓞verthink, 𝓐 𝓟oet 𝓖ains 𝓗er 𝓦ings

<══════════✴︎══════════⊹════════✴︎══>

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ the dove & the sea 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

dove of mine,

hi again. hi. hello. bonjour. salutations. or if it's the first time... then oh, you found me. congrats, detective. i’m probably doing something painfully mundane right now — staring at a wall, overthinking the concept of ... everything — but for your imagination’s sake, let’s say i’m sipping tea and reading sylvia plath’s collected works while pretending not to spiral. (sylvia & me are spiritually linked. i would slap & scold her for half her shit and then sob into her shoulder. duality.)

i’m 15. i go by dove — soft by design, featherlight. i liked the idea of being called something gentle. the world’s too loud and too much. i just wanted to be something calm and still. something that doesn’t take up space unless it’s invited to.

but if we’re already trauma‑bonded… if we’ve had breakdowns at 2am in the same digital trenches… if you’ve seen me type with shaking hands or confess things i should’ve journaled… then you can call me dovie, or angel, or aveliraix (yes that’s the birth name), or aveli, or or or whatever falls sweet off your tongue. but lets be honest even if we havent, i wouldnt mind the nicknames... wink wink

- .... . -.-- / - --- .-.. -.. / -- . / -. --- / --- -. . / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-. . .- -.. / - .... .. ... .-.-.- / .. / - --- .-.. -.. / - .... . -- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -... ..- - / -. . -..- - / - .. -- . / - .-. .- -. ... .-.. .- - . / ..-. .- ... - . .-. .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- .-..-. .-. . / .-- .- - -.-. .... .. -. --. .-.-.-

somewhere, dove awaits,

i shift. i believe in the law of assumption, i dabble in a bit of non-duality and in the strange, terrifying beauty of quantum mechanics. i believe that reality is bendable, that thought can make matter, that self is a word with loose borders. not because i want to sound profound ! im not. i dont have the answers to the universe. im not here to convince you i do.

this isn’t a gimmick. it’s just part of who i am and what i believe. i’m always happy to talk about it — curiously, honestly, even imperfectly — but not with people who treat open minds like something embarrassing. i’m not here to argue with someone who’s already decided i’m ridiculous. i’m not going to hand over my experiences for dissection. if that’s what you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. i don’t owe clarity to close‑minded people

but if you’re if you’re curious, if some part of you wants to listen — then pull up a chair

- .... . -.-- / - --- .-.. -.. / -- . / -. --- / --- -. . / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-. . .- -.. / - .... .. ... .-.-.- / .. / - --- .-.. -.. / - .... . -- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -... ..- - / -. . -..- - / - .. -- . / - .-. .- -. ... .-.. .- - . / ..-. .- ... - . .-. .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- .-..-. .-. . / .-- .- - -.-. .... .. -. --. .-.-.-

in dove's handwriting,

i’ve loved books and pencils and the smell of stationery since before i could afford any of it. i know what it felt like to trace the edge of a gel pen cap. to read a library book with cracked spines.

drawing, writing — i’m not the best. but i don’t care. i’ve lived through enough kitchen-floor lectures from my mother about pencil shavings and snapped pencils to have earned the right to say i love it anyway.

i love the scratch of pen on paper. the way a blank page looks. the tiny ceremony of picking which notebook deserves the next thought.

if you handed me a pack of color pencils or a set of new fineliners, i’d probably cry. because it reminds me of being 7 and building entire worlds out of dollar-store ballpoints.

- .... . -.-- / - --- .-.. -.. / -- . / -. --- / --- -. . / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-. . .- -.. / - .... .. ... .-.-.- / .. / - --- .-.. -.. / - .... . -- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -... ..- - / -. . -..- - / - .. -- . / - .-. .- -. ... .-.. .- - . / ..-. .- ... - . .-. .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- .-..-. .-. . / .-- .- - -.-. .... .. -. --. .-.-.-

where dove flew,

i was born in syria (on a farm in a small village), then lived in lebanon for a bit, and moved to australia when i was four. those places never really left me. syria and lebanon still live in me, so do the sound of family voices in the distance. family. grief. the corner stores. the stories told through cracked phone calls and old photos.

ethnically, i’m half armenian and half assyrian, but i usually just say armenian because it’s simpler. i don’t speak armenian, wish i did! but i do speak english, arabic and one dialect of aramaic (not that good at aramaic though!)

and oh, olive oil. middle eastern olive oil has me every time. i used to just drink it straight, slurping that thick, peppery gold. nothing else tastes like home quite like that <33 oh how i love and miss my middle eastern home

- .... . -.-- / - --- .-.. -.. / -- . / -. --- / --- -. . / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-. . .- -.. / - .... .. ... .-.-.- / .. / - --- .-.. -.. / - .... . -- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -... ..- - / -. . -..- - / - .. -- . / - .-. .- -. ... .-.. .- - . / ..-. .- ... - . .-. .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- .-..-. .-. . / .-- .- - -.-. .... .. -. --. .-.-.-

miss dove (if you're nasty),

special dedication to my first ever teacher (and my english teacher) . . .

there’s a teacher who’s always in my heart. when i first came to australia and started school at five, i didn’t speak a lick of english, but she was so sweet, so patient. i cried after that first day because i missed her, already grown attached. she brought me books, color pencils, markers, stamps, stickers — little treasures that made this strange new country feel like home.

i love her. she was the only teacher who really got me. she’s still with me, always in my mind. and then there was the redheaded angel of a teacher who would come into the class of 5 year old me and pull me aside to teach me english. also patient and kind, opening doors to words i didn’t yet know how to say <33

- .... . -.-- / - --- .-.. -.. / -- . / -. --- / --- -. . / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-. . .- -.. / - .... .. ... .-.-.- / .. / - --- .-.. -.. / - .... . -- / -.-- --- ..- / .-- --- ..- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -... ..- - / -. . -..- - / - .. -- . / - .-. .- -. ... .-.. .- - . / ..-. .- ... - . .-. .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- .-..-. .-. . / .-- .- - -.-. .... .. -. --. .-.-.-

signed: dove , , , xoxo

⢸⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⢸⣏⠻⣶⣤⡶⢾⡿⠁⠀⢠⣄⢀⣴⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⣀⣼⠷⠀⠀⠁⢀⣿⠃⠀⠀⢀⣿⣿⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠴⣾⣯⣅⣀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣦⡀⠒⠻⠿⣿⡿⠿⠓⠂⠀⠀⢀⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠉⢻⡇⣤⣾⣿⣷⣿⣿⣤⠀⠀⣿⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⣿⡿⠏⠀⢀⠀⠀⠿⣶⣤⣤⣤⣄⣀⣴⣿⡿⢻⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠟⠁⠀⢀⣼⠀⠀⠀⠹⣿⣟⠿⠿⠿⡿⠋⠀⠘⣿⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⣶⣶⣿⣿⣇⣀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠛⠿⣿⣦⣤⣀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣹⣿⣿⣿⣿⠿⠋⠁⠀⣹⣿⠳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⣽⣿⡿⠟⠃ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢰⠿⠛⠻⢿⡇⠀⠀⠀⣰⣿⠏⠀⠀⢀⠀⠀⠀⣾⣿⠟⠋⠁⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠀⠀⣰⣿⣿⣾⣿⠿⢿⣷⣀⢀⣿⡇⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠋⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

[cupidz-luvz]

Closed due to mental health issues! Will get back to it once I feel better!

Reblog game timeeee 💞💞💞💞💞💞 (also I want more mutuals-)

Reblog with your f/o and s/i and I’ll give them matching bracelets/kandi (based on the vibes alone)

Exampleee 💘:

Dni if you’re darkship or proship or a 007n7 double

[slipng]

flower teapots ˚｡𖦹 ✿

[petaltexturedskies]

Louise Glück, from "Midsummer" in Poems 1962-2012

[sadiesdoll]

not enough ppl appreciate sevika’s butchness </3

[byshens]

a little bird said byshens reqs are open ?!?! another little bird said what if they infiltrate your inbox w the groups u dont often write ?!?!! and another little bird said taesan face fucking u w no remorse ?!?!?

so many little birdies & some how all of them are absolutely super correct ?!?! hello pretty girl ,, i hope this satisfies ur desire a little bit ( or a lot bit ) ,, BONEDO BONEDO BONEDO !! 💌💌💌

ᝰ.ᐟ face fucking—deep throating, dom! taesan, gagging, hair pulling, cursing, petnames ( dirty girl ), cum eating, lmk if i missed any ─── f. reader -> wc 429 catalogue!

gentle wasnt in taesan’s books.

he was wild, reckless, dominating. but you craved for it. you loved how he used you like you were just a mere doll for him.

he’d push you on your knees and grab a fist full of your messy hair, yanking your head back roughly. all he would need to say was one word—open—and your mouth would fall wide for him, allowing him to shove his hard cock between your lips.

“fuck,,” he groaned, taking in how your mouth wrapped perfectly tight around his length, how he trained your throat just for him.

he starts to thrust into your mouth, feeling how you flatten your tongue underneath his cock, drool seeping out from the sides.

“shit, your mouth is so good,” he moans out lowly, pulling your face closer to his cock with every thrust, your nose practically bumping against his skin above his cock each time.

your breathing was shaken, but you loved it. you loved how you were basically suffocating with his cock in your mouth, how he looks down at you wth desire clouded in his eyes.

the sounds of muffled moans and gags echoed in the room you both were in, oh how obsessed taesan was with how you sound when you struggled for him. his pace quick and relentless.

“making me feel so good,” he huffed, watching as your eyes watered. the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, your hands jerking to his legs to keep your body steady, your pussy already soaking.

it stung—but stung so good. your eyes couldnt stop the tears, wetting and staining your cheeks with salty liquid. your boyfriend swore under his breath, taking in the sight of such mess. you felt pathetic …. crying as taesan abused your mouth and throat, but something about it just turned you on more.

taesan felt his stomach knot up, his climax getting close. but he wasnt going to let you go without filling your mouth with his seed, needing to make you a mess.

he didnt even warn you when he came, his cum spilling out of his tip and filled up your throat. with you choking on his cock, he groaned, having it twitch between your lips.

he pulled out quickly and wrapped a hand around your neck—not squeezing—but calmly just gripped around it. “swallow it,” he demanded.

and you did.

gulping down his salty seed, your face cringed and he chuckled, giving your lips a kiss. “that’s my dirty girl.” he smiled, watching you gasp for air.

͏͏   ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ 💌﹙ want to be added to my bonedo taglist? apply here! ﹚

© byshens. all rights reserved. do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or post onto another platforms without my consent.

[b1mbodoll]

MEMEME i wanna hear it i do !!!!!!! — devon :3

ur so cute thank u for letting me be depraved i love u. SO STALKING. ok. was thinking abt jake (bcs when am i Not) and like. yeah yeah stalker jake awesome cool. HOWEVER… stalker rdr … like stalking jake n texting him from diff numbers bcs he blocks u n following him around n dropping off diff things at his house and like. lets say he likes u but doesnt know that ur his stalker n hes freaky back to You; takes upskirt pics n whatever whatever ok the upskirt is important for this thought.

he takes an upskirt photo n gets a clear shot of ur panties n ur like.. kinda oblivious bcs u dont think he likes you back n the same day he takes an upskirt pic, u decide to touch urself while wearing ur panties n you make a mess n theyre like drenched and u drop them off at his house with a little note; maybe says like. “was thinking of u ❤︎”

n when he opens his little package containinf ur panties (THE ONES HE TOOK A PIC OF THE SAME DAY!!!!) it finally clicks for him. the object of all his desires. the sweetheart he’s obsessed with, is his stalker.

[cherryshh]

　 ❥ 　 ∿ 　 killer in love 　 ｡｡｡ ͏͏͏ ～

　 kokoa yoshizaki 　 ☆　 rentry graphics

　 rq by anon　◞　 ♥︎ if using

2 graphics were removed rn , i’ll re do them later 2day ~