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elliewluvr · 1 month

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my dearest love| ellie williams

pairings: farm!ellie x f!reader

summary: you and ellie have been together for around two years, the two of you in love and living on a farm house together where you both decided to reside due to how dangerous it is in the city.

content warning: 18+ SMUT MDNI, farmhouse, lovers, slight angst, reassurance, gentle, reader receiving, oral, fingering, & praising

dont purchase tlou2! support palestine 🇵🇸

—— <3

the day started off the same as always, you waking up to change the baby and straighten up the bedroom you all shared, the floorboards creaking quietly as you tiptoed around the house.

the sound of the birds chirping and the grass swaying through the wind hitting your ears each time you passed the windows that were open in substitute to air conditioning. you laid your baby down in their crib who remained sleeping despite the changing of their diaper.

you smiled, looking down the chunky little baby whose tiny lips were slightly parted from sleeping so well. one of your hands gliding over the tiny human’s face.

after an swift while of analyzing the creation you made, you tucked your baby underneath the blanket to begin picking up any clothes you found from the day before.

your hands tossing them into the clothing bin to be washed and strung outside to dry later. after that, you headed downstairs as subtle as you could to start making breakfast.

humming to yourself while you cracked and scrambled four eggs that were freshly taken from the chickens hen the night before. you thought to yourself for a moment, mind completely blurred.

you shivered as you felt a pair of arms wrapping around your waist from behind, goosebumps coating your skin while you were immediately knocked from out your thoughts, a gentle peck being placed on the left side of your neck.

“goodmorning, howd you sleep?” you heard your lover say, her voice slightly raspy while she gently rubbed her fingertips over your hips. you let you head fall back onto her shoulder, the feeling making you sigh in relief.

“i slept well, thanks to you.. i missed you so much.” you said before turning around to face her, wrapping your arms around her neck while smiling happily at the sight of her, her shoulder length hair a bit messy as her pale green eyes glistened in the sunlight that peeked throughout the kitchen ever so beautifully.

despite ellie being home now, she wasnt a few weeks ago. tommy heading over to update her on the new information he found on abby. as much as you hated the thought of her leaving, you allowed it. tears were shed everyday before she returned.

the thought of leaving to find her crossed your mind far too many times but you listened to her, trusting that she’d be back soon enough and the one day you packed up your bookbag and grabbed your weapons with your baby strapped to your chest, there she was at the front door.

ellie was in shock, not expecting you to be so eager and impatient to find her. that alone making her happy but also a bit sad as she wouldn’t even know what to do if you and you guy’s baby gotten hurt or into some deep shit.

you ran a hand over her auburn hair before tilting your head at her, “no need to miss me, im here now. i dont plan on leaving any longer.” she said, her eyes traveling from your irises to your lips a few times.

“im glad, ‘cant be without you.” you said in response, leaning forward to place a soft but long peck onto her lips. ellie let out a hum into the kiss, her hands gliding over your lower back and waist gently.

you furrowed your eyebrows in awe, pulling her closer to you as the kiss progressively grew more and more passionate. your feet stumbling back as you were met with the counter that was conventionally behind you.

you gasped, feeling the cool wood graze your hips while ellies hands massaged and groped your soft and smooth skin, her breathing hitching a bit the more she leaned into you.

ellie pulled away to make her way to your neck, your head falling back once again while you felt yourself tremble from the feeling of her soft lips immediately and directly hitting your sweet spot, “f.. fuck, ellie.. dont.” you mumbled softly.

you whined, feeling her place an knee between your thighs that were trembling. she always knew what to do to get you pooling your panties with your wetness.

“its been so long.. please.” she said softly against your skin before pulling away to look at you with now pink cheeks and lips, her tatted hand lifting to glide down your clothed chest.

“i know.. i want you but im nervous.” you said, letting a breath pass between your lips from the feeling of her gentle fingers passing over your body.

“dont be, i know your body better than ever and ill take my time. i know we haven’t did it since you gave birth but i promise ill treat your body right.” she responded, giving you complete eye contact.

you felt yourself relax, nodding at her words, “then take me.” you said, your breath grazing her lips as she leaned in closely to kiss you once again, enthusiastically deepening it while grabbing your waist.

ellie and you stumbled your way to the living room, her hands landing on the walls and doorframes to keep the two of you steady before collapsing onto the couch, the auburn haired girl landing on top and between your legs.

you felt your body heating up more and more as both of your lips danced around eachother, getting a bit sloppy from the eagerness before feeling ellie pull away to look at you, her eyes low and full of lust.

“take this off..” she mumbled a bit above an whisper, grabbing the hem of your shirt to pull it over your head, exposing your bare stomach and breasts that immediately caught her eyes.

she let her eyes pass over your body, every curve catching her attention as she slipped the hairtie holder off of her wrist and lifted her arms to pull half of her hair back into an messy ponytail.

you whined a little, gasping as you felt her fingers immediately play with your nipples, rolling the nubs between her thumb and pointer fingers while she watched your reaction closely, her lips stretching into a smirk.

“does that feel good baby?” she asked, earning a whimper from you, “yes.. please.” you begged, growing desperate and needy for her long slender fingers in your soaked cunt.

“no need to worry, you have me. im just getting you there.” she said, laying a soft kiss on your lips as she reassured you before leaning down to take one of your nipples into her mouth.

“fuck.” you let out, resting the back of your hand over your mouth to keep you from being loud through the quiet house while ellie’s tongue gently rubbed your nipple, sucking it as she pulled away to do the same to the other.

your back arched up from the couch cushions that were under you, the feeling of ellie landing teasing pecks down your stomach made your pussy ache in your panties, “please..”.

she grabbed your waistband and leaned up to yank your shorts and panties off, instantly moaning from the sight of your glistening pussy. “so wet for me.” she mumbled, using one of her hands to rub two fingers between your slit, gaining a whine that passed from your throat quietly.

her large hands readjusted you on the couch, pushing you further up to the armrest where she leaned down between your legs to place soft kisses on your inner thighs as she tucked her slightly muscular arms under your legs to get a better grip on you.

“no more teasing.. i cant take it anymore.” you said softly, gasping as she glided her tongue from your thigh to your pussy, her tongue flattening between your slit to land a long lick from your entrance to your clit.

your eyes shut subconsciously, hearing her hum a bit while flicking her tongue over your desperate clit before sucking the sensitive bud which made you immediately lay a hand over her head to push her deeper between your legs.

this did nothing but encourage ellie, her eyes slowly drifting close from how good you tasted as she pulled away from your pussy with a pop noise, holding your thighs down to flick and rub her tongue back and forth over your clit.

you furrowed your eyebrows, your breathing getting more intense while you sat up to watch her in awe. your eyes growing glossy from how good it felt, thighs already trembling. “oh fuck! ellie!” you moaned out, hips pushing up into her mouth.

ellie hummed in response, lapping her tongue over your clit before swirling the muscle over your cunt sloppily; a long moan dragging from your mouth while your fingers tugged at her ponytail. “you taste so good, baby.” she spoke muffled, face still deep in your pussy.

“dont stop, please! ‘feels too good!” you moaned loudly, throwing your head back once you felt her suck and swirl her tongue over your clit at an quick pace, eyes rolling back in complete awe.

you jerked forward, eyes shutting tightly while your toes began to curl, moans falling from your mouth loudly as you felt yourself grow more hot and flushed than before.

ellie pulled away for a split second to spit her saliva and your juices onto her fingers before pushing them deep into your pussy as she began flicking the tip of her tongue onto the bud of your pussy, fingers curling up into your spot that she always seemed to find.

she took her time, pushing her fingers into you before pulling them halfway out to yank at your spongy sweet spot, your juices soaking her chin while she watched you closely.

you on the other were a mess, body shaking and twitching as you felt your body begin to tremble while your pussy spasmed over her fingers, “i.. if you do that.. mm! ‘gonna make me cum!” you moaned, attempting to push her head away.

her fingers sped up as she watched you through heavy lids, attaching her lips around your bits to start sucking and tugging at your sensitive clit while your body started to tense and the feeling between your thighs grew more intense.

ellie leaned up, continuing to push her fingers in and out of you before rubbing your clit quickly with her free hand, nodding her head slowly in response to you. a smug look forming on her face while she watched your expressions change and alter from every move she made.

“cum for me, let it all out baby. be a good girl and cum for me.” she said, landing a few spanks on your clit as she sped up her fingers and applied a bit more pressure to your clit.

“im gonna cum!..” you let out while your eyes rolled back and your head fell against the arm rest on the couch while your mouth dropped open, juices beginning to flow down your thighs as you started to come undone all over her fingers.

ellie laughed as she twisted her fingers in circles inside of you while she helped fuck you through your orgasm, slapping your clit a few more times. “good girl, you did so well.” she said, slowly pulling her digits out of you to lean up and kiss you sloppily.

you whimpered, panting a bit against her lips. your heart was pounding, body still trembling and pussy now aching from how intense your orgasm was.

a whine passing through your lips and into the kiss from the familiar taste of your pussy hitting your tongue, arms and legs wrapping around ellie to hold her closely.

after an few minutes of kisses and i love you’s both of you pulled away from the sound of your 3 month old crying from upstairs, immediately making ellie lift up off the couch.

“get dressed, ill go get him and dont worry about breakfast. ill cook for us.” ellie said, smiling happily at you before heading upstairs while you began to slip your shorts and shirt back on, smiling as you thought about everything.

“dammit ellie, what am i gonna do with you..”

#ellie tlou #black writers #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #ellie williams smut #ellie smut #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x y/n #tlou2 #ellie x you #ellie x reader

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delehosies · 1 year

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𝐃𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐊 𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒 — benedict bridgerton x female reader . in which benedict discovers a lady asleep on his bed after retiring from the annual bridgerton ball for the night.

3200 words | a fluffy mess ! | masterlist | suggest fics ideas

The last thing that Benedict had expected to see when stumbling into his bedchambers after retiring from the ball for the night, still slightly tipsy, was a lady fast asleep on his bed. But Alas — there you were. Fast asleep, chest slowly rising and then falling again, your lips parted and the material of your ballgown draped in a rather messy manner around you.

He rubbed at his eyes harshly, as if doing so would prove that you were indeed a figment of his imagination, that he was coming down with a fever and therefore hallucinating, that a shadow had taken form on his bed and he had simply mistaken it for a girl. But no. You were actually there. On his bed.

Benedict felt his mouth fall open and shut again – bewildered but slowly coming to his senses. He finally closed the door behind him, so as to ensure nobody would see you, that your reputation wouldn’t be ruined over something which wasn’t anything. “Alright… alright.” he mumbled to himself, taking a few steps closer to the bed and kneeling onto the mattress besides you. Hoping that perhaps his weight shifting underneath would wake you up but… no. Instead you just mumbled something incoherent in your sleep, shifting onto your side as you did so.

The annual Bridgerton ball had taken place that night, was still taking place downstairs in fact, and was still running into the early hours of the morning. But Benedict decided that he had had enough of the ton for one day, that he would get a somewhat early night. Instead one of his mother’s guests was napping in his bedchambers. Which he had to admit was something completely new to him, in their many years of hosting balls he had never experienced this.

“Um… Excuse me? Miss?” he half whispered, placing a light hand on the soft skin of your arm and attempting to gently shake you awake. “You really need to wake… You don’t wish to be caught alone together, hm? Especially not in my bedchamber…”

Upon further inspection, Benedict noticed that your hair had been lazily removed from its updo, and instead fell around you, framing your face and complimenting your features perfectly. He brushed a piece away from you, tucking it behind your ear and frowning as he stared down at you. He was entirely unsure of what to do, and far too aware of how the situation would appear to anybody else - your reputation would be completely ruined if you were caught in this situation. Benedict wanted to ask his mother for help, but was frightened to leave you here alone. What if something happened to you? What if something had already happened to you?

Benedict was unaware that just a few hours earlier, you had began to grow incredibly bored of the ball – by the mundanity of it all, the endless stream of men that your mother insisted on parading in front of you, the dances, the meaningless and far too polite conversation. You had instead decided to plant yourself in a corner nearest to the drinks table… where you had been drinking the night away ever since.

You were unsure of how much you had actually drank, but when the entire room began to spin in a rather unpleasant way you had decided that it was probably time to stop. You had managed to stagger out of the ballroom and into a hallway – though you can hardly remember the journey upstairs and through the hallways into Benedict’s bedchamber, nor can you remember falling asleep, but you know that you certainly didn’t intend to fall into such a deep slumber.

“Miss?” your eyes fluttered open to the sound of a concerned voice – a man. You sat yourself up quickly, too quickly. You immediately regretted it as the room began to sway again, the unfamiliar surroundings rocking back and fourth. You soon discovered the source of the voice, sat besides you on the bed with his eyebrows pulled together in concern. A Bridgerton. You weren’t entirely sure which one, but you knew that he was a Bridgerton.

“Oh dear God.” the words fell from you before you could stop them, bringing your hands upwards in an attempt to cover your face. Although you were still very drunk, you had enough sense to be embarrassed, mortified in fact, by the entire situation. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Mr Bridgerton.” you mumbled — refusing to meet his eyes, which were burning through you with an undeniably intense curiosity.

Benedict blinked in surprise, he had never got quite used to the entirety of the ton being aware of who he was — most of the time they cannot tell him apart from his brothers, but they are still aware that he is a Bridgerton, meanwhile he is half asleep when introduced to people by his mother, it can be quite rare that he actually remembers a name.

“Are you quite alright?”

“I’m a little bit...”

“Drunk? I know that. I can smell the alcohol on you. But are you alright? I mean you were hiding in my bedchambers, asleep on my bed. Did something happen? Other than the copious amounts of alcohol.” Underneath his concern, his curiosity, his twenty questions – was amusement. You could tell that he was repressing a smile, perhaps even in a small laugh.

You felt your cheeks begin to warm, feeling completely and utterly embarrassed – he could smell the alcohol on you after all. You stood from the bed as soon as you could get up, an action which ended up being a complete mistake, you began to stagger sideways almost instantly. Benedict having to stand from where he was sitting in order to prevent you from falling. He placed two firm yet gentle hands on your arms, holding you in one place.

“It’s alright… I’m not angry, if anything I’m quite amused…” you were forced to make eye contact with him at that point, and discovered that he was practically gazing at you, smiling as if he was biting back a laugh – he became serious again rather quickly. “But are you alright? Has anybody hurt you? Or was the annual Bridgerton ball just that boring?”

You shook your head quickly. “I’m quite alright… I didn’t mean to fall asleep, do you see? I just needed a rest.” Your excuse didn’t give you any comfort, here you were, apologising to someone who was practically a stranger for falling asleep on his bed because you… needed a rest.

“So you’re fine. Just sleepy, I suppose.”

“Just sleepy.” You confirmed.

“And drunk… Too much of my mother’s famous punch.”

A quiet giggle fell from your lips – he was actually quite amusing. Why couldn’t your mother have paraded him in front of you instead of the magnitudes of bores who she insisted on you at least considering?

“Do you care to tell me your name?” Benedict questioned, his head tilting to one side as his eyes scanned across your features, not making an attempt to hide his curiosity.

“Y/N.” You replied, raising your head in the most confident and self assured manner that you could muster.

“Well… It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Y/N.” He removed his hands from each of your arms, instead taking your hand in his and pressing a soft kiss to the bare skin, before gently releasing you. “I’m Benedict — You don’t have to bother with the Mr Bridgerton stuff, I’m just Benedict afterall.”

“I must be getting back… Benedict.” You smiled, hesitating at first but ultimately enjoying the way that his name sounded on your tongue. Benedict — you decided that you could get used to it. “I am sure that my mother will be worrying.”

Benedict raised an eyebrow, sitting back on the edge of his mattress. “You can hardly stand, Miss Y/N. I’m not sure that you’re in any fit state to return to the ball just yet.” He stretched his legs out, removing his waistcoat and discarding it somewhere across the room.

“I appreciate the concern but I am perfectly fine.” you crossed your arms across your chest, feining irritation as you stared down at where he now practically laid across the bed. Unbeknown to you, your words were still slurred – very slurred.

He was now laying back, gazing up at the ceiling. “You’ll be the talk of the town! I can picture it now… Do you think that you’ll be the main feature on Lady Whistledown? Or instead one of the more minor segments?” You stayed silent, arms staying tightly crossed. “Miss Y/N…” He held out an arm dramatically above him “drunken disaster…”

“That is very rude! Were you not taught never to speak to a lady in such a manner?” you exclaimed, picking up what was nearest to you and throwing it across the room, where it landed on his chest – luckily, it was quite a small book, and did no damage when it came into contact with him.

Benedict seemed utterly unfazed, laughing quietly to himself and opening the book to a random page – where he seemingly pretended to be utterly engrossed in the chapter. “Apparently not… I have four sisters so I am quite used to bickering with these so called ladies that you speak of.” He paused for a moment. “I will find something to sober you.” he stood, suddenly serious, his gaze turning to where you stood. “But only if you promise to stay here for the time being. If someone sees you leaving my bedchambers it would look most suspicious.”

You nodded quickly, knowing that as much as you wanted to disagree, he was most definitely right. “Just sit.” Benedict pointed to the bed, and you did so without hesitating, being very obedient. “And stay there. I won’t be gone for very long.”

Benedict managed to leave his bedchamber without being spotted – using the servants staircase in order to avoid seeing anybody, and making his way down to the kitchen in order to fetch tea and biscuits for you. Meanwhile, you sat on the edge of Benedict’s bed, inspecting the surroundings the best you could without moving. You noticed an easel in the corner of the room and raised an eyebrow – you wouldn’t have guessed that he was a painter, but then again, you hardly knew him.

The minutes dragged on for what felt like eternity, waiting for Benedict to return to his room, and when he finally did you weren’t expecting him to return carrying a huge tray in a rather clumsily manner. He placed it down on the table besides his bed, shutting the door behind him as quick as he could. “Sorry that took me so long I…” He hesitated for a moment, seeming to carefully think his words over. “If I’m being completely honest I couldn’t work the stove to heat the water… but I got there eventually. Tea and biscuits, for you.” Benedict smiled sheepishly, before beginning to pour you a cup of tea. He handed it to you, and you gratefully took it. “You actually stayed sat there, how obedient!”

You rolled your eyes, attempting to pay no mind to the way that particular comment made you feel – deciding to ignore it completely. “Thank you, Benedict.” Silence fell between the two of you, Benedict pouring a cup for himself before sitting besides you. “You’re an artist?”

He glanced over at the easel in the corner of the room before looking back to you, nodding as he did so. “Something like that… I like to draw, but whether I am an artist or not is most likely up for debate.”

“Are you any good? Would you be able to capture my likeness? Can I see one of your sketchbooks?” You inquired, questions falling from you with zero difficulty. You thought that perhaps you might be speaking too much, but Benedict entertained every question that you asked him.

He paused for a moment, eyes scanning you up and down – you couldn’t help but shiver underneath his gaze. “Hm… I’m certainly not a bad painter, though sometimes I doubt myself – I suppose we all doubt ourselves at times.” He was quiet once again, choosing his words carefully. “I’m unsure whether I’d be able to capture your beauty, but I’m always up for a challenge.” Benedict began to search through his bedside drawers, holding multiple sketchbooks in his hand. “I’m not sure if all of my sketches would be exactly… appropriate for a lady.”

Once again, your cheeks warmed in embarrassment, and you turned your attention quickly to your tea to hide just how flustered his words made you – trying to ignore him as he began to flick through the pages of the filled books, tossing a few aside as he deemed them as being too inappropriate for your eyes. Of course you were curious, but you chose not to press on.

You crossed your legs underneath you in the best way that you could manage whilst still wearing your ballgown, leaning forwards with interest as Benedict opened a sketchbook on the bed in front of you – pointing to the charcoal sketches. “My sisters… Daphne, Eloise, Francesca and Hyacinth.” he pointed to each picture, smiling proudly as he did so – proud more so of his actual sisters than he was of the drawings (although he knew that he had captured them well.)

“They’re beautiful, truly. You’re quite gifted.” You turned the page, smiling as you took in each sketch.

You certainly didn’t miss how Benedict’s cheeks flushed a reddish hue with each compliment, how his lips turned up at the corners into a shy smile. He was clearly passionate about his work, cared more than he wanted to about what others thought of his art, that he valued your opinion. “Thank you… it means a lot. Truly.”

The two of you spent as long as possible, talking, laughing, looking through Benedict’s sketchbooks, discussing books you had read recently – until you had sobered up… at least a little bit. The tea and biscuits soaking up some of the alcohol in your system, though there was nothing wrong with being a little bit merry at an event.

“I suppose you truly should be off now.” Benedict sighed, helping you to your feet. “Most people will be leaving soon… and you don’t want your mother to end up sending out a search party to find you.” You were certainly a lot more steady on your feet this time around, taking a few hesitant steps with the help of Benedict and feeling fine.

You nodded, sighing quietly to yourself – you had had a much more enjoyable night, with better conversations in the short amount of time spent with Benedict than you had had at any other ball. “Thank you, for being so kind… and I’m sorry again.”

Benedict shushed you, pressing a gentle finger to your lips – apparently feeling rather more bold than he usually would. “There’s no need to apologise – as strange as it was, I’ve had a lovely time. A better time than I would had I spent more time actually socialising.”

“Me too.” You admitted, smiling sheepishly at him. Benedict turned from you, creeping to the door of the room and slowly opening it in order to prevent it creaking — he peered out, eyes scanning the hall to ensure that nobody was around. “It’s clear.” He reached out his hand to guide you to the door and you gladly took it, enjoying the warmth of his skin on yours as you were lead from the door. Benedict walked you to the end of the hall, pointing as he gave you directions back to the ballroom.

You couldn’t help but feel a sadness within you as you walked the halls, taking in every tiny piece of detail: the paintings; the wallpaper; the furniture; the flooring – certain that you wouldn’t be returning. “Well… Goodbye.” You whispered shyly, offering a small wave before turning and beginning to descend the grand stairs.

“Wait…” Benedict mumbled, turning and taking your hand in his and spinning you around to face him. You felt your eyebrows furrow together in confusion, watching as he hesitated with his words before finally blurting out the question – “Can I see you again?”

“Of course you can… Mr Bridgerton.” You smiled, and in a feeling of unnatural and rare moment of courage you leaned up to kiss his cheek – pressing your soft lips to his skin before pulling away and watching as his face began to flush to a pretty shade of rosy pink. Unbelievable. You had managed to make Benedict Bridgerton blush.

Before he could speak, you practically ran from the scene, gathering up your skirt in your hands to ensure that you wouldn’t trip. You knew that it was probably quite a dangerous thing to do, considering the fact that you weren’t exactly sober.

Benedict watched as you ran from him until you were completely out of sight, his lips slightly parted in surprise as he struggled to process all of the events from that night — it all felt very much like a fever induced dream.

On returning to his bedchambers, Benedict flipped to a new page in his sketchbook and began to draw – wanting to sketch you to the best of his abilities before his memories began to fade. Despite his previous desire for an early and long night of sleep, he ended up staying awake for most of the night working on the portrait, ensuring that it would be ready before you awoke that morning.

And when you awoke one of the first things that you discovered was a grand bouquet of roses left on the table besides your bed, made up of all sorts of different shades and sizes… alongside a note. Your lady’s maid had brought the flowers into your room whilst you had slept, creeping along the wooden floor so as not to wake you. She was secretly excited for you, having sneakily seen the note which came with the bouquet – she had unfolded it before tucking it back into place.

Hours after the flowers had arrived, you finally awoke. Still in your nightgown, half asleep and still in your nightgown, half asleep and sporting a small alcohol induced headache - you had leaned over to inspect the flowers before reaching for and unfolding the note — discovering a drawing of yourself.

A small gasp escaped you as you took it in. Benedict. He had made you look beautiful, so beautiful – he had captured you perfectly, all of you, seeming to even capture the soul behind your eyes. You just seemed so alive. His signature was at the bottom of the portrait, alongside the words “Sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. – Benedict Bridgerton.”

You ran your finger gently across the words, careful not to smudge any of it – the words repeating in your head again and again. A contented sigh falling from your lips, you fell back onto your mattress, holding the drawing close to your chest as the night’s events really sunk into you. It was hard to believe – yet the words on the page were there as proof — sketched with love and care for Miss Y/N. Benedict Bridgerton.

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izurou · 11 months

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every morning, and often throughout the night, you’ll stretch a foot over to satoru’s side of the bed and make contact with him.

what comes across as a simple desire for physical touch, is actually a habit of yours—one born from both fear and experience. it’d be far from the first time you woke up and he wasn’t there, but things are different now, and you need him to be there.

but this morning, all you feel is cold sheets.

you sit up and rub at your eyes before looking out the window—finding your usual view blurred with rain. you shiver a little at the sight, or maybe—at the foreign emptiness of the room.

and that’s when you realize that, not only is satoru missing from your bed—the small white crib off to your right is also missing your daughter.

you think the worst on instinct. irrational, you’re well aware—there’s no reason for such thoughts anymore, but they still manage to penetrate your freshly conscious mind nonetheless.

that is, until a pair of giggles sneak past the little crack in your bedroom door, acting as the perfect antidote to your conclusion jumping.

now, you find yourself getting out of bed just a bit too eagerly for a gloomy sunday morning—sliding into your slippers before shuffling towards the door and down the hallway. you wrap your arms around yourself as you walk, both hoping for and needing a little extra love from at least one, but preferably both of your babies.

satoru’s voice becomes clearer as you near, and you’re just around the corner when you hear him ask your daughter, who can’t talk yet, a question.

“yeah? you like the rain?”

an odd thing to ask a seven month old, though it makes a little more sense when you actually see them.

the two are in the kitchen, and your daughter—strapped into her high chair, is staring out the large window with her big blue eyes, completely mesmerized. satoru sits hunched over in a dining room chair, watching her with the exact same expression while he holds a plastic green spoon up to her mouth, like he’s interviewing her.

“satoru?” in unison, the duo turn their heads at the sound of your voice. “what are you doing?”

“killing time,” he smiles at you before turning to your baby, who now has her chubby little hands wrapped around a couple of his fingers. “we were starting to think you’d never come to. isn’t that right sweetheart?”

she babbles excitedly in response, seemingly agreeing.

the transition from bassinet to crib hasn’t been an easy one, and last night was probably one of her worst so far. you’ll always rock her, and while she falls asleep easy enough—the second she’s put down, she’ll wake up and cry.

“sorry,” you sigh, padding over to the two. “she was up most of the night, i—”

“needed the rest,” he finishes for you—wiggling his fingers around and earning himself a few more precious baby giggles. “we know.”

you give him a smile, and he returns it in a much more devious fashion—as if he’s saying you owe me for this. on any other day, you’d roll your eyes at something like that, but it’s almost nine am, and you crawled out of bed just moments ago—there isn’t much you wouldn’t do for him at this point.

satoru wraps an arm around one of your thighs as you stand next to him, and he pockets your grin—knowing it holds all the gratitude in the world, and a little something more.

though, you just end up batting him away when you notice the empty bowl sitting on the tray of your daughter’s high chair.

“she ate all her breakfast?” you ask, peering over to see if he hid any of her yogurt in the pouch of her silicone bib. “why don’t you ever do that for me?”

you lean down to boop a finger on her nose, and she kicks her feet in excitement—letting out something between a squeal and a laugh.

“‘cause you like me better, right?” satoru chimes in, holding his makeshift microphone in front of her with a toothy grin—which gets her to babble, for some reason. “oh? what’s that? i’m the best? your favourite?”

you bring a hand up to flick the back of his head—even though sometimes you think he’s right with the way she’s always smiling at him, but you just chalk it up to his high contrast, baby friendly look instead.

“think you misheard,” you point out, “sounded like ew dad, you stink to me.”

your husband—dramatic, and a sucker for your baby girl, flops down onto her little plastic tray in defeat.

“say it’s not true,” he whines, sneakily tickling one of her feet to get her to laugh but, consequently causing her to smack her hands on his head. “hey, hey!”

“that’s my girl,” you snort, and she babbles some more—loving the attention she’s getting from the two of you.

“hmm?” satoru leans in closer to her, as if she’s about to tell him a secret, and then he shields his mouth with his hand to respond. “yeah i know, i think that smell’s coming from over there too.”

the two smile at each other, and while it might be at your expense, you find yourself smiling too.

because you can see it now—satoru picking your daughter up from her first day of kindergarten, begging for the scoop on all her new classmates. he’d listen attentively, and pry just a little further every time she mentions a more masculine name—selfishly wanting to ensure that he’s still her favourite boy.

it’s just a thought of course, but you’ll definitely be holding him a little closer tonight.

“look, she’s doing it!” satoru pulls you back to the present moment, nudging your leg with his elbow. he’s given your baby her little silicone cup—the one she’s learning to drink from. she has it tilted back, spilling milk half into her mouth, and half into her bib. “kind of.”

once she’s quenched her thirst, she haphazardly tosses the cup onto her tray, and you note the white residue that sits on her top lip.

“well, satoru?” you grin at him, grabbing the long forgotten plastic green spoon—microphone, and holding it up to your husband’s mouth.

he furrows his brows and opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off.

“how does it feel knowing your daughter has more of a stache right now than you ever will?”

he grins, at you and then her. “that’s my girl.”

#izurou #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

Bucky angst fic idea!

Bucky always flirting with Sarah to make Y/n jealous, but what he doesn't realise is all these are just making her more insecure and hurting her (blame my past relationships for that).

And it's quite apparent that she's hurt. By the time he realises, Y/n is deep into the spiral. But obviously, a happy and fluffy ending (maybe smut), cause otherwise I will die from broken heart 😩😩

I hope you enjoy this! and I'm sorry you've had bad experiences with relationships. It's their loss.

summary - bucky flirts with sarah to make you jealous, forgetting that you aren't as secure as you come off.

warning - angst, fluff.

the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

‘Did I do something wrong?’ You think as you watch Bucky laugh at something Sarah said. ‘Maybe I’m not pretty enough for him anymore?’ His eyes flicker over to you, shooting you a smirk before he looks back at her, touching her arm softly with his metal one. ‘What could he be saying for her to laugh like that?’ You don’t know why you're doing this to yourself, but you continue to watch. Every laugh, every touch, every word sends pain through your chest.

You don’t notice Sam looking over at you, and you don’t see how he shoots daggers at Bucky and his sister. The only time you are brought out of your haze is when you hear shouting, blinking away the tears in your eyes. Your gaze focuses on Sam pushing and punching Bucky, screaming at him. You watch as he turns and begins shouting at his sister.

You get up and decide to leave because watching Bucky fight back and defend another woman and his actions feels more painful than watching them flirt. After walking for a while, you come across a secluded area with a beautiful ocean view, feeling so lost in your head that you don’t get to enjoy the sounds of nature around you. Your mind was too busy racing with thoughts of not being good enough for anyone anymore that maybe you should’ve never fallen for the blue-eyed soldier's smile or sweet words.

Because you left, you don’t notice Bucky’s gaze focusing on the empty spot or that he no longer hears Sam screaming in his ear. You don’t see the utter panic appearing on Bucky’s face or that he begins to spin, frantically searching for you. You are so lost in your head that you don’t hear him screaming your name, you don’t hear him finding you, you don’t hear the utter relief in his voice when he whispers your name.

Because why would you? This man you thought was supposed to love you and only you, who wasn’t supposed to hurt you, did. Knowing how insecure you are, pulling you deeper into your mind that, of course, you wouldn’t notice him looking for you or finding you. Because you didn’t think Bucky cared enough to come looking for you, you thought that he’d be too lost in Sarah’s eyes to notice you missing.

“Baby?” Bucky walks forward, “Doll?” His brows furrow as he doesn’t receive a response, walking so that he’s in front of you. His heart jumps in his throat when he sees how far he’s pushed you. Bucky quickly crouches down, taking your tear-soaked cheeks in his hands. “Babydoll, I’m so sorry! Fuck, I’m such an idiot. Baby, baby!” He strokes your cheeks with his thumb, desperately trying to bring you out of this. His arms wrap around your body, picking you up and carrying you to the house, dismissing Sam and Sarah when they try to step forward.

He carries you to the guest room, cradling your face into his neck as he whispers sweet nothings against your hair. Bucky lies down, bringing you with him, holding you tightly against his body. “I’m so so sorry, babydoll. You are the only one I have eyes for, believe me! You are the reason I wake up in the morning, the only thing I look forward to.” His blue eyes flicker down to your face, noticing that yours are focused on his face, finally brought out of your state but staying quiet.

Bucky strokes your bottom lip, staring at you lovingly. “I love you so much, and I will forever be sorry for what I’ve done. I should have realised that trying to make you jealous wasn’t right and was pathetic. I have such a beautiful dame on my arm, yet I felt the need to be a jerk.” His eyes fill with tears, and a sigh of relief leaves him when you roll over and cuddle into him.

“I love you too, Bucky. But please don’t do it again.” You look up at him, pleading with your eyes as you don’t know if you’ll survive being hurt like that again.

“Of course, doll. I’ll never do it again. You’re my doll forever and as long as you have me. I’ll continue making it up to you.” He places a soft kiss against your head, holding you tight against him as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

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comfortless · 4 months

Text

Deep Water

nix! König x fem! reader

content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. no.. intentional harm done to reader but there are sporadic mentions of murder (drowning), König is kind of a creep here do you guys forgive me (say yes), implied sex; dubcon everything. König is wearing a fishing net rather than the usual hood because. it made sense to me sorry.

notes: yet again, i have found that i can not manage to write anything except for silly fantasy nonsense… bear with me this will pass (it will not). if you’re uncertain of what a nix is, i recommend skimming over this (or tl;dr— a shapeshifting water spirit).

You’ve always been told to beware of the river, especially on nights like this. When the singing starts up you were to run, as far and as fast as your feet could carry you. It would be the most beautiful sound you had ever heard, as well as the last. Whatever beast lies in wait along the silt of the riverbed luring people in with its haunting song isn’t kind. The drowned bodies resurfacing bloated and paled are enough for the townsfolk to assume that assuredly, a monster lies in wait someplace within the glassy water.

For all of the fear, town myths were just that— myths.

As always, there’s no singing when you seat yourself on smooth, mossy stones by the river’s bank. The moon hangs low, casting its brilliant reflection on calm, dark water. The air is alive with the buzzing of cicadas clinging to the trees at your back and night birds calling out to the wind. Nothing is amiss; it’s only peaceful, and that’s why despite the warnings, you often find yourself here when the temperature is favorable.

There are nights when the river isn’t calm, and currents are the most reliable reasoning for the deaths from past summers. The water is full of large rocks with sharp corners, teeming with plants that could so easily snare an ankle, and when the water is frothing and cruel it’s no surprise that one could be thrashed to unconsciousness if they weren’t careful.

You didn’t come here to take your chances on swimming, anyhow.

If anything, it’s a mere reprieve from the bustle of the town. No one wanders here any more since the myths gained traction, passed from mouth to listening ears time and time again, leaving this place entirely untouched. Occasionally the obnoxious teenager would cross your path on the walk here, declaring loudly to their friends about how they supposedly saw some slimy beast, eyes like moonbeams and scales like razors lying on the bank.

During your little adventures here, you often carry a snack with you, but not for yourself. Tonight, it’s just a small package of vanilla flavored cookies. In truth, they were awful— dry and near flavorless, but you suspect your friend here wouldn’t mind too terribly much, and if it got them out of your pantry without wasting it was a win for the both of you.

When the large dorsal fin crests over the water mere meters from the bank, you gratuitously crush the treats in a closed fist and toss the crumbs into the water. Time and time again, you’ve fed the large animal, watching as it thrashes about just below the surface before disappearing back into its depths. You’ve never gotten a good look at it, either, but you imagine it must stretch out past your height or further; some sort of gar or sturgeon.

Just as many times before, it glides further in, fin entirely out of sight now. The only evidence of it ever appearing at all were the small waves rippling in its wake. All is quieted once more as you embrace the placid bliss, readying your small flashlight and losing yourself into the book perched in your lap.

The next night, you’re greeted by a large snake basking over the rock you typically sat upon. It lies still, coiled into itself as it regards you, forked tongue flicking out for several moments before it simply slithers off, hiding itself away beneath the moss and stone.

“Best to leave you alone, huh?,” you ask to it’s retreating tail, feeling a bit silly for speaking to the reptile at all. It doesn’t respond, of course, nor does it bother to come out of hiding either.

You opt to seat yourself on the hill overlooking the water instead.

You find that after a day occupied by tedious tasks, there truly was no greater place to abandon your woes than here. Everything was peaceful; wild yet simplistic. Even with all of the death that seemed to haunt this place, you never feared the thought of ghosts. You’ve even entertained your imagination a time or two, that if you ever did meet one, you would only ask it not to disturb the wildlife you have grown so fond.

There’s a freedom and a mystery to places like this, places without the foot traffic of other people. It brings with it a sense of whimsy, especially when you glance towards the water and see the surface reflecting every twinkling star above.

The fish doesn’t appear, even as you listen to the water in wait, your head tilted as you lie back on soft grass to watch for ripples, for the swell of a large fin moving beneath. Nothing. You read your book as the night progresses, nearly completing it entirely before you make your way back home.

Weeks pass by like this— work, river, home and repeat. Occasionally it’s the same large snake that greets you when you wander there, more often it’s the large fish circling about waiting for crumbs of whatever treat you choose to bring. The bank and the small hill overlooking it have become a separate home to you, one where you can be away with the fairies, talking to your animal friends that never seem to stick around for long.

When the weather grows warmer, you even dare to take a swim.

You’re stood on the slick stones of the bank, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of underwear. It’s not proper swimming attire, but you reason that you’re not at the beach, not a soul is around, and it doesn’t really matter at all that you might look a bit silly. The prospect of swimming along that behemoth below is a tad terrifying, but you wouldn’t dare to wander too far in. Maybe the fish would even be intelligent enough to not attempt to eat you after you’ve been so kind to it.

It’s hot, and with a sticky layer of sweat glossing your skin, your worries seem minuscule in light of an easy way of cooling off. You toe at the calm water for a moment, testing its temperature before willing yourself to take a step forward, then another before you seat yourself in the vibrant expanse of darkened blue. Here, you realize, is the best place to stargaze, too; they shimmer all around you, within reach as you tap at the surface of water, watching it undulate beneath the pressure of your fingertips.

You could reach the moon, too, if you swam further out. A few meters from the bank and you would be directly beneath its reflection, bathed in that ethereal glow.

You watch for your friend for a time, trying to prioritize your wariness over your whimsy. When the fish doesn’t tread by you, the water remaining calm, you rise to your feet and take slow, metered steps as the water parts and flows against your shins.

Though the river is disturbed no matter how gently you stride forward, nothing slides out from its depths in pursuit of you. Nothing happens at all when you reach out to splay your hand out against the reflection, the water now gently lapping against your stomach rather than your legs.

You hadn’t expected any sort of shift in your reality, that would be ridiculous, but perhaps some sort of clarity; a further calm for a weary mind. It doesn’t come, and with a disheartened splash you wade your way back towards the shore.

This has been your sanctuary for some time. Excusing the snake, there’s not been any sort of threat to you, not here. A safe water world all your own. Though, that peace is shattered the moment that you make it to the bank and hear the water shift some small distance behind you. Turning your head, you’re met with the sight of a man, the bulky muscular silhouette towering in the patch of moonlight you had just stood in. Bright blue eyes catch the light, reflecting like an animal’s as you scramble back to where you’ve left your shorts.

He stands there, silent and unmoving like an obelisk even as you hastily dress yourself with a thundering heart and breaths that sound more or less like gasps, senses heightened by your panic as you turn tail to run.

No one had been there. You were sure of it when you sunk into the water. There was no sound when this person had swam over to take your place. He was just there, as if he had been the entire time and you somehow failed to notice.

You make your way into the woods framing this place, hurried steps and untied shoelaces. You don’t even bother with your flashlight.

Finding your way back home with aches in every muscle, the desperate rampage you had taken to get away finally coming to a close when the door slams shut behind you, you quickly shower and mull over what’s just happened. A ghost, perhaps. It had to of been. Any other person would have made noise in their approach, especially being that big. The mind could play its tricks; what you had seen was likely not even there at all— a terrifying figment of your imagination. That sets you at ease, somewhat, but not enough.

You don’t sleep well that night, tucked beneath your blanket and staring at the filtered moonlight through your curtains. Work isn’t on your mind at all come morning until your phone chimes with a notification from your manager, questioning your tardiness. A languid crawl out of bed follows, another shower, an unsatisfying breakfast, all before you opt to send a text back to let him know you won’t be in today.

It could be excused, you’re reliable and decent enough at the job; not one to boast, but far more eager to please than the rest of your coworkers. You would be entirely useless if you went in on no sleep, you reason.

You don’t want to go back there, not under the veil of night, but you find yourself horribly curious the longer that you bide your time indoors. You had to know if the thing that you saw was really there, had to calm your nerves. What if he had always been watching each time, and you simply hadn’t noticed? The forest bordering the river is terribly dark at night, anyone could crouch behind the shield of a tree and remain undetected until they willed the courage to drag you in, cup a palm over your mouth to silence your cries.

Maybe it was the monster the people in town rumored about.

The thought of some strange, silent thing living beneath the water waiting for an opportune moment to take you by the neck and drag you down to the silty floor to watch you drown horrified you. Yet, that’s the one conclusion that sticks. Those eyes… so lurid and haunting, no human being had eyes like that.

You inhale sharply, steeling your nerves as reach for a pocket knife for defense, toss it into the bag slung over your shoulder, and storm out the door.

The trek there is nothing short of dull.

No matter where you look, what shadows rise up beneath the dim glow of a falling sun, there’s nothing out in the woods. The river is equally tame. The water babbles over rock, cicadas buzz off in the distance, and not a thing seems amiss. Your search for footprints that don’t belong to the soles of your shoes turns up empty. The only thing that suggests just maybe it wasn’t all in your head is the book you had neglected to retrieve in your fear the night before.

The cover, every page within, now warped as though it had been pulled into the water and spit out to dry. You pick it up, peeling through damp pages, running your fingertips over the smeared ink. It’s possible that a particularly aggressive splash could have sullied it, but something tells you that that isn’t the case. Either way, it’s unreadable now. You sulk a bit as you slip the ruined thing into your bag and step towards the smooth stones to watch the water instead.

Night creeps in slowly with you there, and you’re on high alert for a time before you begin to relax as usual. Even giggle to yourself at how silly it was you believed you saw a ghost at all as you entertain yourself by skipping small stones across the water.

No large snake, no massive fish, no titan of a man appears before you, only a calming crescent moon and a few wandering wood ducks, gliding down from the bank to splash about. A thought comes to mind as the calm emboldens you: what would happen if you got in just one more time?

There’s nothing to suggest that you’re playing with fire as you leave your shoes neatly in the dry sand. If the ducks could swim unbothered by fish or men, then surely you could, too. You watch the little creatures a distance away as they dip their heads beneath the surface and chitter away amongst themselves while you take your first step in.

You don’t dare to go as far this time, stopping when the water brushes over your knees. You wait there while time seems to slow to a crawl, expecting the absolute worst, glancing further down the river, dipping your hand below the glassy surface until your fingertips brush the sand beneath.

It’s horribly hot and you’re still exhausted from the sleepless night before. The water feels nice, and you feel as though you have some sort of claim to it as you’ve been here more often than anyone else would dare to. Ghosts and monsters be damned, you seat yourself and let the water lap over your shoulders, tilting your head back to watch the stars.

When the singing begins it takes a moment to register just what it is that you’re hearing. It’s not beautiful, not like the myths have said. It’s hissed, a low whisper, a mockery of what a human song would sound like. The voice is rasped, lilted yet cold. The realization that it sings words from your book of poetry is what terrifies you the most, the warped pages all making sense now.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, forward, before realizing the voice is coming from behind you. Cold spreads through your veins as you try to force yourself to stand, but in your fear you find yourself petrified, rooted in water that would surely become your grave.

You can’t bring yourself to turn around, to inevitably find your eyes locked onto the shadowy frame of a man far too large, his eyes glistening and pale like the moon hanging above.

The voice pauses when it finds you unmoving, and you can hear the rustle of the creature shifting its weight where it’s stood on the rocks lining the bank. You’ve no clue how deep the river gets, where the opposite side leads, but your only chance of escape seems to be swimming through in the hopes that this thing doesn’t choose to chase after you. A part of you knows that he would, that that is exactly what he expects you to do, goading you to flee deeper with his eerie song so that he can drown you just as he did the others.

You do the opposite as you squeeze your eyes shut and crawl back towards the bank, making sure to keep some distance despite your willful blindness. You wouldn’t look at it, wouldn’t talk to it, you would just go home and never come back.

“Best to leave you alone, hm?”

You still as your fingers brush against wet moss, the voice no longer a whisper but loud, loud as it echoes your words from days past just above you. Beating back your own curiosity proves futile, because you look up at the damned thing then, expecting to see an impossible terror before you, sharp fangs wet with blood and appendages too spindly reaching out for you. Instead, you see only a man.

He’s crouched, only a meter or so away, and you immediately recognize his broad figure. The same as the night before. From this distance you can make out the finer details, the length of net covering his face and neck, the webbing between each finger. Still a scary sight, but only in the way it’s unfamiliar and imposing rather than instilling any sort of primordial fear.

“Excuse me?” You pull yourself fully out of the water, rising to your feet and taking a tentative step back. You’re prepared to run, a coil pulled too tight on the verge of snapping.

The man, creature, whatever he may be just tilts his head, lets the silence hang in the air for a moment before he has the audacity to laugh whether to himself or at the strange, bewildered expression on your face.

His stare is assessing as he sucks in a breath, follows suit in rising to his full height. From the size of him alone, you know you’re not getting away. A mere stride for him would be two or more for you, a deliberate tug of your wrist from him could snap it in an instant.

Yet, he doesn’t reach for you, only gestures toward your bag lying on the ground with a subtle flick of a finger. You give him a quizzical glance in turn, not bothering to retrieve it. You could come back during the day with a friend, gather it and never return. Only, your knife sits somewhere inside, the only protection that you’ve got. The realization spurs you to bend over and toss the strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll… I’ll be going now.”

The stare remains fixed upon you as you take another step back, blinking slowly every now and then as you both remain in some strange stasis.

It takes you a moment to put the pieces together. The reciting of words from the book, the mimicking of the words spoken to the snake, the hint at your bag… he’s expecting something and it’s not to steal away your life, only to be fed and have your company. It’s not charming, it’s awfully strange and eerie, but you find yourself giggling at the prospect of taming some murderous, shapeshifting monster with subpar treats and poetry.

You pull open the bag, searching for anything you may have brought along that he could eat, eventually prying out a small package and offering it out to him.

“Is this what you want?,” you ask, voice hushed and trembling.

He shakes his head, rustling the net cloaking him in the process. So, he understands, he’s just been willfully ignoring every other thing you’ve said prior. You store the package away with a perturbed expression crossing over your face.

“Then what?”

Any relief you had felt seems to dwindle when the giant takes a half-step closer. His skin is cool and wet as the river as he brushes his hand over your forearm, curling a set of fingers around it. The touch is gentle, but there’s a promise of violence lurking somewhere in the depths of his eyes.

“Come with me,” he urges in that harsh whisper from before, delicately squeezing as he pulls you towards him, leading you back to the river with a tight grip and a step back over the stones. Though his touch is passive, there’s a frightening strength lurking someplace beneath his flesh, tacked to bone, and as your gaze trails lower to rest to rest at your feet, the space between you two, the evidence of a life prone to violence and strength is laid bare before you.

You don’t fight the hold as he leads you to water so deep it caresses the base of your neck, right below the milky glow of a waning moon. Deeper still, as you’re pulled below, pressed down to the very bottom with his body lain over you. You can only hold your breath so long before an involuntary gasp leaves you, and a wave is funneled straight into your lungs.

Panic is fleeting, but the adrenaline stays ever-present. You claw, push, kick, to no avail. Pinned down by a hand weighing like an anchor you feel your vision flooding and hazy as his head knocks against your jaw, mouth sealing tightly over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss, the net fashioned into a hood digs into your skin, teeth scrape over your lip until you feel the sting of blood drawn.

All at once, your vision darkens and it’s over.

You find yourself lying back on the shore as the morning sun warms your face, causes your dampened shirt to cling to your skin. Disoriented, but alive, brushing your thumb over your lower lip as you sit up to stare at the subtle waves lapping over moss and rock.

Just a dream, you tell yourself, knowing full well you hadn’t fallen asleep.

Just a dream, even though you avoid the river entirely now. Your route home from work changes too, avoiding even a glimpse of the path that leads down to that place. You don’t even replace the book, you toss what remains of it after fishing through your bag, murmuring something about it surely being cursed and entertain yourself with film at night instead.

Sleep remains tentative, you wake with every sound, and your dreaming is filled with visions of a figure pushing you down into deep water, his weight bearing down upon you so heavily that you can not move until you wake with a start, eyes searching your bedroom.

Several weeks, and the fear does eventually fade.

The morning that the rain begins to fall, you realize you haven’t even thought about the river in days. There’s no monster prowling your nightmares anymore. You lived through what may or may not have occurred, and that was the end of it, simple as it may have been.

A late shift at work has you wandering out into the rain, umbrella in hand. You’re grateful that you live close, that you’re not entirely soaked to the bone when you step inside of the mundane building. Your coworkers notice your change in demeanor immediately, chirping about how glad they are that you’re finally feeling better, looking more yourself as the hours pass you by. It brings a smile to your face, a real one that you haven’t had in place since that last night.

Even in the summer, there’s a chill to the air in the late afternoon as you hurry home from work and make your way inside, stripping out of your wet clothes and setting your umbrella aside. It’s darker outside than it should be, even more so indoors. Reaching for the switch to turn on the lights proves useless— the power’s out.

You light your way with your phone, ignoring the way your pulse quickens and your heart flutters with the fear that something just doesn’t feel right. Your skin prickles with the thought of some unseen pair of eyes watching you, blue and cold. You only relax when you slam your bedroom door shut, locking it and pressing your forehead to the wood as you sigh. The puff of breath that escapes your lips is not the only in the room, you find out when the light of your phone illuminated your bed. Crouched beside it, a towering figure with a face veiled by fishing net. Words don’t come when you open your mouth to speak, and your heart stutters in your chest as you stand shaking but otherwise petrified.

“You didn’t come back.”

Of course you hadn’t.

Most people wouldn’t have.

“No. I’ve been… busy,” you choke out the excuse, hoping to pacify whatever emotion you imagine lurked beneath his tone, undetectable through the hiss of his voice. “I’ll visit soon, promise,” you lie, back pressed against the door as your fingers curl over the knob.

Your fear seems almost unwarranted. He doesn’t move toward you, only stands to wander back to the window where he must have broken in.

“Tonight?,” he asks in a voice so soft, the voice he must use as a lure because tugs at your heartstrings immediately, makes you want to follow despite the threat this thing poses merely by existing, despite everything.

“It’s cold— I’ll get sick,” you murmur. “How did you even find me..?”

“I will keep you warm.” The question goes unanswered.

You find yourself stifled again as he lumbers towards you, brushing cold fingers across the side of your face. It’s not a mockery of a kiss you receive next but a firm bite where your neck meets shoulder, not yet hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you shiver, to grip at the wall of muscle that makes up his chest.

There’s a desperation to his movements as he herds you towards the window, pushes you toward the path leading back to the river. You’re soaked to the bone in seconds, hardly able to keep your eyes open past the weight of dampened eyelashes. The rain is so heavy it feels as though every step is like the first you took into cursed water, your feet sinking into the mud along the path with each tentative stride. The realization that you’re there doesn’t even hit you until you’re chest-deep in the chill, violent waves pushing against you, each carrying the threat of toppling you over entirely.

The palm splayed out against your bare back keeps you upright, leading you to a smooth rock jutting out in the midst of what seems a sea of frothing white and blue. The sea above is just as dark, angry clouds roaring as you’re pressed down onto your back, shivering terribly.

He keeps his promise though, a tight grip on each thigh as he pries your legs apart, sinks in between them and blankets you from the rain. Even with the cold pressed to your back, you feel the warmth of a summer sun above you, scorching from inside, just as blazing as the look in his wild eyes. The last of any resolve slips when you’re pulled beneath the violent waves, a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses coaxing oxygen into your lungs. Each roll and pull no less tumultuous than the waves overhead. A placid end when the rain comes to an impromptu halt, just as he stills over you. Hands rush to cup your face with one final, desperate and biting kiss.

When the morning sun pulls you from sleep, cool moss against your back and the weight of his head resting over your middle, the shallow water lapping lazily at your figure, you find that you no longer fear drowning.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #könig x you #konig x you #könig #konig #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #konig fanfiction #i have been mulling over this for an eternity sorry it needed to be extracted from my brain #he is absolutely more lycanthrope coded to me but whoosh whatever nix König be upon ye #also apologies to everyone for not writing much lately and the fact this is hardly a real fic #cursed by the sleepy i just need a 10yr long nap #<- in my ‘in denial about burnout’ era

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outsideratheart · 4 months

Text

You Should Have Told Me (Alexia Putellas x reader)

Being away from Alexia was never easy. In fact it got harder as time went on. Luckily for you it didn’t happen often, only really when you went back to Australia whether it be for national team camp or to be with family. This time was the latter.

Like always, you and Alexia spoke to each other and found a way for it to work with the time difference. You were getting into bed and tried calling Alexia but she didn’t answer. You thought she might be busy so you text her and wait for a respond only one doesn’t come.

When you wake up the next morning you find the reason for her radio silence. A tweet which makes you feel sick.

Alexia Putellas will undergo arthroscopy surgery on 27th December.

You are filled with worry but you are also mad at your girlfriend. Why on earth were you finding this out in the internet and not by the woman herself.

Despite your mixed emotions you find yourself on a flight back to Barcelona after a length apology to your family. Funnily enough they knew it was coming as soon as they saw the news. They had only met Alexia once but the love you had for her was evident. They saw it on your face every time her name popped up on your phone.

It was the 27th by the time you arrived home or to your other home. Everyone was well aware of your relationship with Alexia so the nurses didn’t question it when you arrived at the hospital asking for her whereabouts.

“Y/N” Alba greets you with a warm hug “Alexia didn’t tell us you were coming”

“Clearly Alexia is going through a not telling people stuff phase”

Alba swallowed deeply. Your annoyance was clear and if that wasn’t a telling sign, you calling her sister by her full name was.

“Y/N I didn’t—“ Eli joins the two of you in the hall but stops talking mid sentence when she sees her youngest daughter shaking her head.

“I wouldn’t mama”

“She is in there” Eli point the door behind her “she didn’t want—“

Again she was cut off, this time by you.

“Don’t fight her battles Eli. She knew what she was doing. Feliz Navidad by way” you kiss both women on the cheek.

The two of them watch you enter Alexia’s room.

“You two need a lesson in manners. You know it’s rude to interrupt people” Eli says to Alba given that you are in the hospital room.

You get a sick sense of deja vu when you enter the room Alexia’s in. The same happened last summer and you stayed by her side for the entire thing. It’s why now didn’t make sense. You looked up the surgery, it was minor. Why didn’t she want you here now but happily had you with her then.

Alexia pays no attention to you when you enter and although she is there physically you can tell her mind is far away.

“I know I’m not your emergency contact but I would of thought being your girlfriend earned me a call or at least a text”

This got her attention. It was a good job she was already at the hospital because the speed in which she turned her head could have given her whiplash.

“Mi amorcito”

“Alexia”

Her faces changed at this. You could almost see her wince at the formalness.

“I deserve that” she knows she did wrong by not telling you. Still, she pats the space next to her hoping that you’ll join her on the bed.

She watches each step you take, you get closer to her but stop at the foot of her bed.

“What? I don’t get a hug? I am in the hospital” she tries to get you to crack a smile but fails miserably.

“Repeat those last 4 words”

“I am in the hospital” she is slightly confused because you clearly heard her.

“We have been through a lot together Alexia. Yesterday you told me everything was fine, the medics had given you a green light and that you were packing for the trip. You lied”

“Y/N I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted —“

“Miss Putellas it’s time” one of her doctors come in.

“Give me a minute” Alexia doesn’t ask, she demands “I’m in the middle of something”

“No. Take her. We’re done here”

At first Alexia panics. What did you mean by we’re done here. It sounded almost like a break up but before you leave you walk over and kiss her temple. It was a small sign that you were not breaking up with her.

Her eyes remain on you as you walk out the door. Her mother steps in her eye line and Alexia recognises the look on her face; she is in trouble.

“You didn’t tell her, idiota!” Alba appears from behind their mother.

“Alba not now”

“No Mija, she’s right. When you wake up you need to fix this. That girl is the best thing to happen to you and you know that you should have told her. Alexia, she is your girlfriend she had a right to now”

“Por Dios! I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing”

Alexia truly did think that. You had been with her to every physio appointment since the champions league game. You hadn’t been back in Australia long when the decision was made for her to get surgery. You had played the most minutes this season so far and for the sake of your own health you needed to rest, to recover.

She wanted you with her and truth is she needed you with her but she sacrificed that solace for you.

The surgery took two hours which is within the predicted time or least that’s what Google told Alexia when she looked it up. She woke up and saw two woman, neither of them the one she wanted to see.

“She left, didn’t she?” Alexia looked defeated as she came to.

“She did” Alba replied with a wicked grin on her face.

“But then she came back” Eli told the whole truth.

Alexia watched as her mum and sister stepped aside revealing you curled up on the chair fast asleep.

“I think the jet lag must have caught up with her. I saw the girl drink three double espressos but even they couldn’t help fight the urge to sleep” Eli explained.

Your girlfriend knew the battle all too well. She saw the way the time difference affected you when you travelled for international camp. Sleep always won in the end.

“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Alexia asks her mother specifically only to earn a response from her sister.

“Of course she will. Y/N loves you and I’m talking the type of love dad had for mama. I think you’re stupid for not telling her but knowing you, you probably thought you were doing the right thing”

“No, she was being stupid” your raspy voice gained the attention of all three Putellas women.

“I was and I’m sorry”

You and Alexia were given some privacy.

“I am sorry Y/N, I didn’t mean to hurt you”

“What did you think would happen? I found out my girlfriend would be having surgery on twitter. Strangers found out the same time as me”

“I wanted you here with me but you needed to be with your family“

“I needed to be with you. I love you and nobody comes above you Ale.”

“But you were supposed to be in Australia. You had plans to spend new year in Sydney. It had been planned all year”

“You’re wrong Alexia. We were supposed to be in Australia. We had plans to spend new year in Sydney. We planned it together. I don’t care where I am as long as I am with you”

“I should have told you”

“Yes, you should have. Are you able to squeeze up? I’ve had enough of being mad at you”

Alexia knows that she’s strong enough to move and does so happily. She would do anything if it meant having you beside her. It came as no surprise that you were the little spoon in the relationship so Alexia naturally holds you close.

“I’m scared Y/N. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I had the surgery and I put in the work. I was back and now look at me. I’m back at the beginning again”

“No you’re not. This isn’t like it was before. Your knee is stronger now. I called the physio on my way to the airport and he told me everything. The surgery was only an investigation”

“Would you still loved me if I’m not as good as before? If I never win another balón d’Or?”

“Alexia Putellas Segura, what silly questions those are. I loved you long before you won your first and I will love you long after you hang up your boots. I fell for the person, not the player and you’ll do good to remember that”

Alexia took a moment to take in what you had said. Her greatest fear was that you’d leave her but deep down she knew that wouldn’t happen. Your words only reiterated this.

“Did you return the outfit? Nurse Y/N might be needed again”

You jokingly gasped at her suggestion. When you look up you see that her eyes have darkened slightly. She did love you in that criminally short costume.

“I think I have it somewhere” you cup her cheek and Alexia leans into your touch.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #barcelona femeni one shot #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine

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diejager · 4 months

Note

I can request yandere! König and yandere Ghost?

She used to be a soldier before she was kidnapped by them, so she uses what she learned to beat them and escape from that room she was locked in.

Although she can't find the exit

No Escape Cw: DARKFIC, kidnapping, yandere, possessive behaviour, obsessiveness, nonconsensual drugging, basement wife, tell me if I missed any.

You learned that compliance was a better choice in this situation, having fought tooth an d nail against them only to be punished and had your privileges taken away from you. You started in the basement, waking up confused and disorientated, throat dry and head heavy from the substance König and Ghost used to drug you. You trusted Ghost, having worked with him so often - too many to count on both your hands and feet - and learned to put your trust in him to watch your back and protect you.

You, however, couldn’t say the same about König, you didn’t trust him, he was the enemy, someone you and Ghost had fought so many times, shot and wounded time and time again —only for him to come back stronger, more determined and more dangerous. Yet they worked effortlessly together rather than fight on every decision, they’d work through their differences, barked and fought but they clung to the thought of having you to themselves. It was the driving force behind their cooperation.

They took you, locked you away in the darkness of a home in Austria (an idea they both agreed to, Austria was farther and calmer, less populated and you wouldn’t be able to get help if you escaped, a stranger to the country’s spoken language) until they deemed you compliant enough to let out. You threw snide remarks, leering comments and a disrespectful and bratty attitude to push the act, to have them believe you weren’t thinking of playing them.

You were punished for every act of noncompliance, Ghost was cruel but he didn’t beat you, he used words and training —dog training, to train the disobedient mutt out of you. He did just enough to stop you from always biting, but never too much that you lose your feistiness, the aspect that made keeping you interesting and fun. König was more direct, holding you down and making you listen to him, he went without beating or training you. He had firm hands and he knew how to use them, praising you whenever you did something well and giving you privileges like going to the bathroom, showering alone, taking a walk outside or sleep in a bed.

Compliance had worked so far, they were lost to the domesticity of having a soldier turned housewife cook for them, care for them and give yourself to them. They had grown so used to having you at their beck and call, giving you whatever you wanted: books, food, a bed, a Tv, but never your freedom. That was something you had to work harder for, to pull them deeper into the delusion of your love and subservience towards them. You went unsupervised for long periods of time at home, leaving the doors locked and windows shut whenever they left.

And today seemed like the right time to move, you’d been warned by Ghost that they would be gone for a while for a joint mission (SpecGru and KorTac had somehow formed an impossible alliance), leaving you home alone with enough food and ressources to last a year. You watched them leave, their cars driving out in the distance and disappearing behind the trees once they turned the corner. You waited an hour, and hour of patience in case they came back for an emergency or because something in the plan changed, but you didn’t hear the tell-tale sound of car engines or the imposing steps up the porch.

You scoured the house, eyes roving over every little crevice and hands feeling the walls for any weaknesses. The windows were bolted shut and the grates made of hardened iron that were simply too sturdy for you to cut through without the right equipment, and the doors were locked from the outside, both men holding the only copy of the key. You wanted to keep forcibly unlocking the door as a last ditch effort because it would take more effort than needed to pry it open. So you searched the house, up the attic and down the basement, and their individual offices, who unfortunately had every drawer locked with a master key.

As you broke apart a few pins to make a lock pick, you heard two cars drive up the driveway, the loud rev of the engine and the angered slam of a door. You cursed, swiftly moving down the stairs and into the hidden corner of your reading spot, hidden by the arch between the indoor porch and the kitchen, away from the entrance’s sight. You hadn’t prepared for them to come back home —a mistake. You’d picked a random book, flipping through the pages and acting as if you spend the time reading, hoping that they wouldn’t grow suspicious.

“Come here, love,” there’s a dark edge in his done, a deep and angered growl. “Now.”

They knew. Not only were you too late, but you were caught as well. You’d lose all your freedom, your privileges and your soft affection, replacing them with the cold and damp air of the lonely basement. You bit your trembling lip, stopping yourself from spitting at them and worsen your punishment. You felt their disappointing and wrathful gaze without looking at them, it oozed off their broad shoulders in waves.

“You know what you’ve done, ja, Bärchen?” König sounded more disappointed than mad, his tone on the edge of condescension, his blue eyes dimmed with sorrow.

Ghost was quick to grab you, handling you roughly against his chest, gear and vest scrapping your skin. He had you down the basement stairs and chained to the mattress in seconds, a leather collar wrapped around your neck. He scruffed you, pushing your nose into the musky bed and thin sheet of your new room, glaring down at you with deep browns, his chest puffed with angered breaths and throat rumbled with menacing growls.

“You’re stayin’ here until we see you’ve learned your lesson.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders

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twistedfics · 4 months

Text

𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

Leona (twisted wonderland) x AFAB!reader (no pronouns mentioned) NSFW

2.3k+ words

hi! this story is 18+ and contains dark content. read at your own risk.

tags/warnings: ⚠️ non-con/dub-con, somno, biting, dacryphilia, breeding, possessive sex, mating, leona is in rut, licking, cum eating, kinda yandere ig?, leona is mean, maybe a bit ooc

summary: what if the night you stayed at savanaclaw went a little.... differently?

Leona had been acting strange. Or, at least, that’s what you thought. You couldn’t exactly say you knew the guy very well but something seemed off about him.

But then again, maybe you were just majorly pissing him off. If you knew anything about him at all, it would probably be that he wouldn’t exactly want people (that he doesn’t seem to like, especially) all up in his business. And especially not in his bed. Whoops.

You’ll admit, it wasn’t the best arrangement, but given your current options, it was all you had. You had to stay somewhere right? It’s only temporary, you can live with him hating you for a night.

Leona grumbled to himself, tail flinging around as you attempted to make yourself comfortable. He had thrown himself down in the middle of his bed in the midst of his little tantrum and you were forced to squeeze yourself into the bed the best you could. And as far away as you could manage. All those times you thought about Leona getting you into his bed, this wasn’t exactly what you had imagined.

“This is so fucking stupid. I should just throw you out and let you and that damn cat of yours find someone else to bother.” He spat in your direction, but you didn’t acknowledge it. Maybe if you just face the other way and pretend to sleep, he’ll calm down?

“You better not make a fucking sound tonight. If you wake me up, you’re dead, herbivore.” Guess not.

You sighed and turned slightly in the bed, looking over your shoulder at him. You spoke softly, “Look, Leona. I’m sorry about this, really. but I really appreciate you letting us stay here. I’ll keep quiet, okay? You won’t even know I’m here.”

He didn’t look at you, but you heard a quiet “ugh” which you decided to take as a response. You knew you weren’t getting much more.

“Goodnight, Leona,” you said as you turned back to face the wall, closing your eyes. You just needed some sleep, and then you’ll figure everything out in the morning.

~*~

You awoke to a room that was far too dark for it to be anywhere near morning. You felt hot. Way, way, way too hot. You attempted to move but found yourself constricted. What was going on?

In your half-asleep state, you tried to kick away whatever it was that was holding you in place, and your heart nearly stopped when you were lucid enough to feel it. Something was pressed up against you from behind, holding your body against the mattress. Your eyes shot open when you felt something wet and hot against your neck.

You tried to scream and were immediately silenced with a hand over your mouth.

“Shh. I told you to be quiet.” A deep voice growled in your ear. Leona? That was definitely him. What in the seven was he doing?

“Leona, wha-” your voice was muffled, and he shushed you again. “You smell so good,” he mumbled, shifting against you. And that’s when you felt it. Something long and hard pressed against your ass.

Panic shot through you as you began to struggle against him. You managed to turn yourself towards him before he got a hold of you again, removing his hand from your mouth in the process.

“Stop. Stop, Leona, please!” You cried trying desperately to pull yourself out of his grasp. This proved impossible, as he simply tightened his hold on you. It felt like he was trying to crush you to death.

“Maybe you should of thought of that earlier? You know, before you decided to invade my space all night.” He spoke low, way too casual for the situation you were in. His teeth pressed against your neck and you gasped.

This is apparently your fault to him??? You didn’t ask for this! You were only staying here out of necessity anyway. Sure he was hot, and you can’t lie that you haven’t thought of this before, but you never wanted it like this. Why now? Why you?! Violated just because a man can’t keep it in his pants? It’s sick!

Despite your constant struggling and protests though, Leona didn’t let up. His claws were digging into where he held you by your hips and you were sure your neck was probably bruised beyond belief. And to make matters worse, no amount of your crying was keeping him from pressing himself into your thigh.

“Leona, please! You’re scaring me. Let me go right now!” Your pleas fell on deaf ears as he maneuvered himself on top of you. One of his hands held your wrists together above your head, the rest of his body pinning you against the mattress. Tears were falling down your cheeks now, sobs getting stuck in your throat. You were no match for his strength. You couldn’t see yourself getting out of this alone.

“Do you ever shut up?” He growled, attacking your neck with his teeth again. His claws started to work at tearing your shirt apart and his hips not so subtly ground against your thigh. You tried to thrash around one last time, but the groan that came from him at your movements stopped you in your tracks. This was a nightmare.

“W-why are you doing this?” Your voice was shaking now, sobs being ripped from your throat at every nip of his teeth against it.

“I let you sleep here out of the kindness of my heart, didn’t I? I should at least get something out of it.” He had completed his task of ripping your top to shreds, and he slowly moved himself down your body, biting and sucking at your skin the whole way.

You whimpered when he reached your chest, licking at one of your nipples while his hand came up to pinch at the other one. He teased you for a while, switching between your tits, sucking and licking at your nipples while massaging the other one.

You could feel him each time he ground himself against your thigh. He was so hard, and you could almost swear he was growing harder- if that was even possible. Pre-cum dripped from his tip and soaked the front of his pants, so much so that you could feel it, sticky on your exposed skin.

His free hand moved down to toy at the waistband of your shorts and your breath hitched. He was really doing this. This was really happening.

You tried to free your hands but found that he still had your wrists caught in an iron grasp. Tears were now pouring down your face, begging and pleading as you sobbed for him to stop, to just let you go.

Why did this have to happen to you?

He came back up so he was level with you, his face just centimeters from yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of remorse at what he was doing, but there was nothing. His pupils were blown wide with lust as he smirked down at you.

His face moved closer towards you and you froze as you felt him lick at your face, wiping away your tears in the most disgusting way possible. You felt like you were going to vomit.

“You’re cute when you cry. Be a lot cuter if you were quiet though,” he whispered to you, nipping at your ear before moving back down your body.

You had given up struggling, accepting your fate. You couldn’t get out of this. He was too strong, and there was no reasoning with him. Something was wrong. He wouldn’t listen, you knew that.

You cried even harder as he finally ripped away the material of your shorts. You felt humiliated, left in just your panties as you cried and shook beneath him.

His hand slipped past your panties to toy with your cunt, and you watched in horror as he flashed you a predatory smile.

His next words sent ice through your veins, “Would you look at that, herbivore? You’re soaked. You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Freak.” He chuckled and you felt as if you weren’t even in your own body anymore.

Were you enjoying this? No! You can’t be. You’re scared out of your mind and you want it to stop. So why are you wet? Surely a natural reaction, right? There’s no way you could actually be into this kind of thing, right?

“Look at that pretty pussy. All f’ me.” While you were lost in thought, he had torn your underwear away completely. He spread you apart with two fingers, watching as your wetness dripped from your core between your thighs. You didn’t think you’ve ever been more embarrassed.

He pressed down harshly on your clit, closely watching your reaction as your whole body jerked. His stare had you pinned, you felt like prey being stalked. But the lion had already caught you.

“I hope you’re ready, herbivore. I’m done waiting.” He let go of your wrists and swiftly flipped your body around. Your face was now pressed against the mattress, support from your arms taken from you as he once again pinned your wrists, this time holding them behind your back.

With one hand he pulled your hips up, leaving you face down with your ass up, level with his hips as he kneeled behind you. He removed his hand for a moment, and you heard the rustling of clothes before you felt his hard cock pressing against your soaked entrance.

His hand came back to grip your hip, claws digging in and leaving marks on your skin. Your body involuntarily tightened up as it anticipated what would come next.

Leona pushed his hips forward slowly, groaning softly as he forced the tip of his leaking cock into your little cunt.

“If you don’t relax this is going to hurt a hell of a lot more than it would have,” he grunted and continued to press forward.

You whimpered as you tried to force yourself to relax, your body not wanting to welcome the intrusion. He was huge! It hurt like hell, but no matter what, he wasn’t stopping, and you cried out as his tip stretched you out more than you had ever felt before.

“That’s it. Take it, you little brat.” You moaned as his cock continued to stretch you out, the feeling burning more with each inch that entered you.

After what felt like forever, he finally bottomed out. He sighed as his hips pressed against your ass and you took a deep breath to try and prepare for what came next. You could feel him inside of you, pressing against the walls of your pussy, hot and twitching.

Without warning he pulled back and quickly slammed his hips forward, pressing you hard against his bed. He gave you no time to adjust, starting out with a quick and brutal pace, abusing your pussy with each harsh thrust.

“Fuck! You’re so tight~ So perfect for me, herbivore.” He bent himself over you hammering his hips into you as he spoke into your ear. His words were interrupted by his own moans, matching the sounds you made as you cried and drooled into the pillows.

He nipped and licked at the back of your neck, working his way over your shoulders as his cock hit that perfect spot inside of you. You gasped and felt him grin against your skin. You weren’t supposed to like this! So why did it feel so good?

“That feel good, huh?” He readjusted to continue hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars, fucking you impossibly harder. He let go of your wrists to get a better grip on your waist and your hands fell limply to the bed. You moaned loudly, losing yourself to the feeling of his cock deep inside of you, letting yourself enjoy the moment. He bent his body over you once more, licking at the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “Cum for me, baby,” he whispered to you, “Cum. For. Me.”

Each word was punctuated with an insanely hard thrust, sending you hurtling over the edge. Your vision blacked and you screamed, falling completely limp in his arms as your orgasm hit you hard.

You tried to catch your breath, but Leona didn’t let up. He continued his harsh pace, fucking you into the mattress as he panted and moaned in your ear. The wet sounds of his hips slapping against your thighs echoed through the dark room.

“Almost there, fuck!” he moaned loudly, his claws biting into your skin as he held you in a death grip.

“Leona~ Leona, please, stop it hurts, please!” The sensation of overstimulation had you sobbing again, repeatedly chanting Leona’s name and begging for him to stop, to just give you a break.

“Shh, shh~ Shit! I'm almost there! Fuck, just a bit more baby,” He moaned directly in your ear, face pressed into the crook of your neck. “I’m gonna fill you up, yeah? Fuck you full of my cum, everyone’s gonna know you’re all mine- fuck! My own personal little fuck toy. My mate.”

His words sent you over the edge again, screaming out his name as you clenched down on his cock. He followed right after you, biting down hard on your shoulder, breaking the skin as he pumped you full of his hot cum. You could feel it inside you, hot and sticky as it filled you up while he rode out his high.

When his hips finally stuttered to a stop, he collapsed on top of you, trapping you beneath him. You were both a sweaty, panting mess and it was a while before he finally lifted himself off you.

He slowly pulled out, watching as his and your cum gushed from your cunt, staining the sheets below. Using his fingers, he scooped some up and pulled your head back by your hair, shoving it into your open, panting mouth.

You closed your lips around his fingers and sucked and he sat back to watch as you licked his hand clean. He removed his fingers with a pop, drying them off on the sheets before giving you a quick pat on the head.

“You'll be a good little mate.”

hi there! if you made it this far, thank you! sorry if this was a little rocky, it was my first time writing smut/dark content. i'm a little rusty with my writing >_< but i tried my best!

if you enjoyed this, please like and/or reblog! interaction is very much appreciated! <3

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #twst x reader smut #leona kingscholar smut #leona kingsholar x reader #leona kingscholar x reader smut #mine

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gay-dorito-dust · 6 months

Text

Don’t imagine MK1 men edition;

This came to me as I was listen to asmr last night. Honestly have no clue what this is. 🦦

Don’t imagine Tomas asking you out of the blue about how he smells, having just finished using a new shower jell that had you recently bought, and once you were within range Tomas then pecks your forehead with his soft lips before pulling away with flustered cheeks and a dopey smile as he sheepishly rubs the back of his head.

‘I couldn’t resist.’ He claims. ‘I saw others doing something similar with their spouses, and so I guess I wanted to do it too. Pretty silly huh?’

Don’t imagine Raiden listening intently as you spoke, giving you every ounce of his attention towards the topic of discussion, smiling softly as his unwavering gaze never once faltered from your face; whereas yours would find a hard time staying glued to his beautiful dark ones because of how deeply he looked at you, making you feel not only heard but seen too.

Even as you apologised for talking his ear off, Raiden would counter that your voice was something he could never grow tired of, for it was his favourite sound.

It was such a simple thing but it was enough for you to feel yourself becoming fidgety under his gaze. It didn’t seem to matter how many times Raiden did this because it would always feel like the first time, every time.

Don’t imagine Liu Kang trying to make up for lost time by spending whatever small amount of time he had with you to the fullest before duty inevitably calls for his attention once more.

He’s fully aware that you don’t hold it against him and that you knew what you were getting into upon agreeing to being with him, but he couldn’t help but feel as though he was in some way selfish with you, to which you were quick in disagreeing with by saying he was more selfless then selfish.

However that didn’t stop Liu Kang from helping you with your daily tasks as a way of expressing his gratitude for you, whether that be going down to the market, making the bed, preparing breakfast or something to drink. Liu Kang will do it without a second thought because who knows when he’ll have to leave you again.

So he savours every moment while he can but it doesn’t make the pain of having to separate from you anywhere near bearable.

‘No matter how far apart we may be physically, that does not mean my heart isn’t any less always with you.’

Don’t imagine Kuai Liang holding you tightly to him during the cold nights, his above average body warmth acting as your only form of comfort to combat the cold drafts that would somehow make their way into your room.

He’d thoroughly enjoyed the view of you trying to get as close as possible to leech off of his warmth, he couldn’t get enough with just how perfect you slotted against him and would often times have to pull you back into his embrace when he felt you shift the slightest bit away from him.

Kuai Liang loves keeping you close to his person, it makes him feel as though he’s protecting you with everything that he has, he loves it even more when he gets the chance to wake up before you and chooses to admire your every feature with adoration and love, engraving every inch of your face to memory; even your every imperfection that you claim to posses was engraved into his mind as to Kuai Liang, to love was to love imperfectly.

Not all love was perfect but yours certainly the most perfectly imperfect love there was.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han allowing you to take care of his injuries when he gets back from missions.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han‘s muscles tense up initially upon feeling your hands upon his injured bicep, soft hands working away at the wound in a way that wouldn’t cause him any more pain then he was already in.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han as his his sharp, observant eyes watch your every movement like a hawk, it’s not like he didn’t trust you, he was just trained to be vigilant whenever he put his care within the hands of others. He would even do it with the medics now and then but quickly came to accept that they knew what they were doing.

Don’t imagine Bi-Han slowly coming to terms with just how touch starved he was when he found himself at the mercy of your tender, caring touch, practically giving over all power to you in that situation to do whatever you saw fit. You could’ve hurt him even further for all he knew but instead you treated each of his wounds with a kind of gentleness he had never seen nor received before.

Whatever you do don’t imagine Bi-Han inspecting your work after you were done, giving a satisfied grunt, before he did an uncharacteristic thing by grabbing your hands within his own and kissing the back of them in gratitude.

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 6 months

Note

oh my god there are so many good choice on the touching prompt list for Ace!Tav and Astarion. But since it’s first numerically may I please request 3?

Summary: You finally arrive in Baldur's Gate and you can't sleep. Normally this would mean taking the nearest instrument and playing until your hands are raw. Luckily for your fingers, Astarion is there to listen.

Prompt: hiding face in neck

Astarion x AsexaulBard!Tav Masterlist

A/N: Hey! Sorry it took me so long to get to this. I swear to god I wrote like five different versions of this thing. Let's give it up for over writing! Enjoy.

Word Count: 1.8K

The night felt oddly still for Baldur’s Gate. You’d traveled so far, done and seen so much and you were finally here. It should have brought you relief; instead, all you could think about was all you had left to do. There were still the tadpoles to deal with and devils and gods and frankly all the things you’d never given a second thought to the last time you stepped through the gates. Perhaps the city felt it as well, collectively holding its breath for whatever was coming next.

You let out a deep sigh, staring up at the darkened ceiling. There would be no hope of sleep tonight. The best you could do was find a way to pass the hours without going mad.

As carefully as you could, you slipped out of bed, mindful of Astarion resting soundly next to you. For all your troubles, they were nothing compared to the horrors coming for him. You wouldn’t disturb his rare moment of peace for the world.

In easy strides you grabbed your lute and made your way to the balcony where a comfortable enough chaise awaited you.

No lamps were needed. Between the moon and the street lamps below, you could see well enough to play for an audience of one.

You started with something easy, plucking out a handful of scales to warm up your hands. It didn’t take long after that for a melody to form, pushing your worries further and further away. Lyrics slipped their way past your lips in whispers and half remembered hums. You were here. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You had control over your body and the sounds pulled from the instrument in your hands. There was still time. The morning hadn’t found you yet.

Soft footsteps approached from behind you; the obvious padding of bare feet on wooden floor boards given just enough extra weight so as not to startle you. Astarion could be very considerate at times.

You paused your hands, turning to face him.

“Sorry, was I playing too loud?”

“Not at all,” he assured. “How else was I supposed to find you after waking to a cold, empty bed?”

You had to at least smile at his dramatics, which seemed to please him as he stepped further onto the balcony.

The light of the moon gave his already pale skin and iridescent glow. His silver curls were just a little ruffled from their perfect coif as his eyes held you with a tired softness that made you ache. It was in moments like this you remembered why poetry existed; paints, canvas, marble, clay, they were too clumsy of tools to capture all of him.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, pulling you from your musings.

“Just needed to clear my head,” you said. “Didn’t want to bother anyone with my plucking.”

“Perish the thought. I rather enjoy your plucking.” He nodded to the empty spot next to you. “May I?”

You couldn’t think of a reason to argue, so you didn’t try. Astarion had proved himself one of the few people you could enjoy a peaceful silence with. So long as he didn’t expect you to entertain him, there was no harm done.

You scooted over to allow him room.

He took it, only to pull you against him, caging you between his legs.

You gave a small yelp of surprise, only just managing to keep hold of your lute. “What are you doing?”

“Making myself comfortable.” His hands found your waist, pulling you closer so your back rested against his chest while his chin made a home on your shoulder. “Go on dearest, start plucking.”

You snorted out a laugh. Gods above, he really was a cat sometimes. He didn’t ask for attention so much as demand it and in a way only the most heartless could be upset by.

“It’s rather difficult for me to perform with my back to the audience,” you said as some attempt at protest.

He gave a noncommittal hum. “I’m inclined to disagree. But if it does bother you, consider me a humble patron observing a rehearsal.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Settling back as best you could, you began again, humming a tune to yourself as you worked out the cords.

A different kind of peace settled over you as he held you. You had come here to be alone, something you had gotten used to over the years. Astarion didn’t have to be here with you, but he was. He chose to sit here in the dark and listen as you played your troubles into the air. It was an alien comfort, one that still left you a little unsure, but it was a comfort nonetheless.

“I don’t think I’ve heard this one before,” Astarion observed, gently breaking the silence.

“I would think not, seeing how it’s only been in my head for the last few months,” you teased.

He nodded as you felt him shift awkwardly beneath you. “Far be it for me to speak on your artistic vision, but is it meant to be so repetitive?”

You stopped your playing as a flush of warmth came to your cheeks. There was a reason why rehearsals were usually kept private. “Sorry, can’t seem to find the ending.”

“Might be easier if you wrote it down,” he suggested.

“That would require me knowing how.”

“You don’t know how to write music?” He sounded so genuinely surprised, you had to laugh.

“Love, I don’t even know how to read it.”

“Really?”

You shrugged. “Just not how I learned. They weren’t exactly letting riff raff like me into the conservatory.”

You could all but feel the furrow of his brow as his chin pressed against your shoulder. “So every song you’ve ever played, original or otherwise, you taught yourself, by ear, and stored away in that head of yours?”

“You make it sound more impressive than it actually is. Plenty of bards do the exact same thing,” you dismissed.

He hummed in thought. “Perhaps. It does explain why so many of them don’t seem to have anything going on behind the eyes.”

“I’ll try not to be insulted.”

“Present company excluded,” he amended, pressing a kiss to the back of your ear for good measure. “Why do you think I’m so impressed? Beauty, talent and brains are such a rare combination.”

You gave a small huff, earning you another kiss on the temple.

“I’m sure we could find somebody in the city to teach you,” he offered.

You shook your head. “Not interested. Besides, I’ve found it an effective filtration method. If I can’t remember the tune the next day, it probably wasn’t worth learning in the first place.”

“Oh darling, who knew you could be so cruel to your fellow artists,” he said, full of approval. “But, what about when a song of yours is done? Surely then it would be worth preserving.”

“If I’ve done my job well, then the memories of those who have heard it will be preservation enough,” you said. “It’s how all the best songs are passed on anyway. The specifics of who wrote it and when get lost, but the melody remains. It stays in the world because people want it to stay in the world. I think there’s a kind of poetry in that.”

He let out a long exasperated sigh. “How nauseatingly romantic of you. One little problem though, people’s memories are shit. Give it a few centuries and it will barely resemble the original. At least if you write it down they can’t muck it up.”

“It’s obvious you haven’t met many musicians,” you said, dryly. “People are always going to have their own interpretations. Putting it down on paper doesn’t make it any less a memory. Personally, I’d rather keep it living in the mind than in a stagnant drawer somewhere.”

“Or I can just make sure nothing happens to the original.”

He tried to keep his voice light, but there was promise beneath that tingled at the back of your neck. His arms held you a little more tightly. His body tensed. It was as if he was trying to guard you from something, but who or what you could only guess at.

“Astarion–”

“Don’t,” he said, sharply. “I know you want to say something comforting and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear you go on about memory or legacy or things to remember after you’re gone, because you’re not gone. You’re here. You’re here with me, and I don’t care who I have to kill or what bargains I need to make, but I’m not letting you go.”

He turned his face into your neck, pressing his lips against your pulse. To your surprise, no teeth accompanied the gesture. He just breathed, inhaling your scent deep into his lungs. His touch lingered on your skin as some of the tension left his body; the steady beating of your heart calming him.

“I don’t want memories,” he whispered. “I just want you.”

Your lips parted to speak, but quickly closed. You knew there was a correct thing to say. Letting go was a part of life, whether you liked it or not. Sooner or later, everyone became a memory; but, that wasn’t what he wanted to hear and that wasn’t what you felt.

The promise he made wasn’t some collection of meaningless words, but a desperate, blood soaked plea. For the first time in so long, you knew somebody would be upset if you died, not for the loss of income or poetry, but because you would be gone.

You wanted to tell him you loved him. You wanted to tell him you didn’t just want memories either. You wanted to make the same promise and then hide away somewhere safe where the world wouldn’t dare touch either of you; but, you didn’t say that either.

Instead you placed your hand over his, squeezing his fingers.

“You have me,” you said, softly. “I’m right here.”

A shuddering breath left his body, as if all the emotion he had been containing was suddenly pushed from his lungs. His arms stayed around you, but his whole body relaxed as his head found a new place to live buried in your neck.

“Keep playing, my heart,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

How could anyone say no to such a request?

Your hands found a melody, different from the one before; something complete and familiar. As soon as the song finished you transitioned to another and then another, never stopping until Astarion’s hold became slack and his breathing turned deep and steady, signaling his trace. Only then did you set down your lute and curled into his arms to finally sleep.

You would finish your composition another night. The morning would find you, but you had time. Air moved in and out of your lungs. Your heart still beat. You were here and you were going to stay.

#astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion baldur's gate #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate iii #asexual #asexual!tav #asexaul!reader #bard!tav #astarion x ace!tav #astarion x evie

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ginabaker1666 · 6 months

Text

Wake Up Call

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Reader

Rating: Mature (this is just PWP)

Summary: Dean and the Reader find themselves with a moment alone in the Impala, and Reader makes sure they take advantage of it.

I wouldn’t admit it to anyone but, some nights I enjoyed curling up with Dean and sleeping in the Impala. When a motel was just too far of a drive, or he got that itch to do something spontaneous, the two of us would more often than not end up curled up together in the back seat. He’d wrap us both in an old blanket that he had stashed in the trunk; somewhere between the holy oil and witch killing bullets, we would manage a romantic moment alone.

There was one exception, however, and that was when Sam was with us. It was no longer romantic, the car just became a motel on wheels. Sam would stretch himself out in the back and we’d pass beers back and forth between us, share some mindless chatter, and then the sound of Sam snoring would eventually lull us both to a mediocre sleep. Dean and I would struggle to find a spot in the front where the steering wheel wasn’t pressing into his ribs, or the emergency brake handle wasn't poking into the small of my back.

This was one of those mornings. I stirred from sleep, and as my eyes adjusted to the light, I realized I was laying on the front seat, legs tucked up, head in Dean’s lap. Looking up, I took a moment to admire his sharp jaw and the slope of his nose as his breathing came in steady inhales and exhales. I always thought he was handsome, but when he was asleep and the weight of his troubles weren’t crushing him…he was even more so. It was then I realized he had slept sitting up, head back and neck bent. He would be howling about it for days.

Gently, I slid my hand over his thigh, my other hand bracing against the top of the seat as I took a careful peek into the back seat. I expected to find Sam, awkwardly bent with his flannel balled up behind his head, but was surprised to find that the back seat of the Impala was empty, save for Sam’s flannel from the night before and a half empty bottle of mouth wash. Grinning, I decided to steal a few moments of quiet with my favorite person, in our favorite place.

“Dean…”

“Hnfg… no.”

“Dean…” I tried again, letting my fingers dance over his stomach and up, under the hem of his black T-shirt.

Just as I moved in to press my lips against his, his hand came down over my wrist and stopped me from exploring his skin any further. One of his jade green eyes opened, looking at me wildly, as if to ask how I could be so mean and torture him while his brother was asleep not five feet away.

“Relax… it’s just us…” I grinned.

“Where’d he go?”

“Don’t know… don’t care at the moment… I’m alone with you.”

He gently released his grip on my wrist, and opened his other eye before grinning brightly.

“Then feel free to continue,” he husked, bringing a hand up to thread through my hair. “This is my favorite kind of wake up call.”

I just smiled as he used the hand in my hair to guide my lips back to his. When his lips finally pressed against mine, it felt as if I was floating, and the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth was Dean holding me against him.

“I know you want to take your time and enjoy this but…” I murmured against his lips, hands fumbling with his belt while his moved to hastily untuck my shirt and pop the button on my jeans.

“Baby, you know I love it any way I can get it with you,” Dean smirked. “It’s always good.”

He made quick work of shoving his jeans and boxers down just far enough to expose his hardening length, his head falling back against the seat as I quickly kicked off my boots and shimmied out of my jeans and underwear.

“I’d tell you to take your top off but…”

“Later,” I promised, grabbing a fistful of his black T-shirt and tugging him over to the passenger side of the car.

Dean quickly yanked his own flannel off, balling it up and putting it behind my head with a not so subtle wink, before descending; one knee on the bench seat, the other leg planted firmly on the floor. His hands slipped behind my thighs, pulling me as close as possible before stopping; his eyes were half lidded but focused on me as one hand slid up, past my knee, up, up, up until he was able to cup my jaw, thumb running idly over my bottom lip.

“I never get tired of seeing you like this.” “Could say the same about you, Handsome.” I grinned, the words turning to a moan as Dean shifted his hips forward until he was buried to the hilt.

“Fuck, thats the best feeling.” He groaned, dropping his head to my shoulder.

“Reminds me of when you whisked me away for a joyride when we were kids.” I sighed, pushing a hand into his hair, nails scratching against his scalp.

“Except we were in the backseat and parked by the beach… way more romantic.”

“Still romantic,” I whispered, lifting my hips to give him a little nudge of encouragement.

“I hear ya,” he ground out. “I’ve got ya, I’m right here.”

My hands fell from around his neck down to grip his biceps as he pulled out and thrust back in, the slow drag of him as he pulled out coupled with the sharp, pleasure-pain sting of his hips meeting mine as he picked up speed was something I would never tired of.

“… this is gonna be short lived baby… fuck!”

The Impala rocked beneath us as Dean’s thrusts became harder and more erratic, his gaze on me absolutely wild.

“Dean… fuck, please!”

“You close, sweetheart?”

“So close…”

Even in his own haze, before another word could leave my mouth, before I begged for more than he was already giving, he knew. Bracing one hand on the back of the seat, Dean dropped his other hand between our bodies, his thumb finding my swollen clit like a magnet, and began drawing tight circles over the sensitive nub.

“That what you needed?”

“Yes…oh god, Don't stop…right there…I’m-“

The words died on my lips as my orgasm crashed down around me. If I was tethered by Dean’s lips on mine before, then this was life support, and Dean was the only one capable of keeping me from flatlining. His eyes were locked on mine as he gave one final, deep thrust, his own orgasm on the heels of mine, our lips meeting as he worked us both through it.

As the aftershocks wore off and our breathing returned to normal, the two of us remained tangled in each other’s embrace in the front seat of the car.

“Normally I don’t advocate for you putting pants back on but…” I gave a firm squeeze to Dean’s backside in good jest.

“No one wants to see my ass.” He grinned, gently pulling out of me before searching for the roll of paper towels that he kept stashed in the glove box.

“That’s not true.” I rolled my eyes.

“Okay, no one except you wants to see my ass.” He winked, ripping off a few sheets before passing them to me.

I quickly cleaned up before pulling my underwear and jeans back up. We moved silently, but together, Dean balling up the used paper towels and tossing them outside the car, leaving the window cracked for some fresh air.

“C’mere…” he grinned, leaning back in the drivers seat and opening his arms for me.

I slid across the seat, snuggling into his side, bringing my legs up on the bench as Dean wrapped his arm around me.

“Thank you for my wakeup call.” He looked down just as I looked up, a smile on his face.

“You’re welcome,” I leaned up, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I can’t say my motives were entirely without self benefit though.”

“Oh I know.” He chuckled.

We stayed like that, tucked up together, watching as the sun rose higher, and the world began its day.

The sound of boots on gravel startled us, Dean immediately looking into the rear view mirror to see who was coming.

“Sam?”

“Yea… looks like he picked up breakfast.”

“The big lug,” I chuckled. “He’s gonna know we had sex in here.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time and sure as hell won’t be the last, sweetheart.”

Before I could respond, the back door creaked open and Sam lumbered in. He was balancing a tray of coffees in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. He tossed the greasy bag up front, not caring that it missed the seat and landed on the floor by Dean’s feet.

“Come on, guys…” he groaned.

“What?” Dean cut his eyes to his brother in the rear view mirror.

“Could you two at least try and wait till we find a motel?” Sam griped, passing two coffees over to me. “And don’t say it’s house rules.”

Turning the key in the ignition, Dean grinned at me before cutting his eyes to his brother in the rear view.

“Shut up and drink your coffee.”

#Dean Winchester x Reader #Dean Winchester Smut #Supernatural Fic #Dean Winchester x OFC #Gina Baker Writes

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ma1dita · 1 month

Text

to catch a thief

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (post-TLT, sea of monsters compliant/spoilers) The one where duty calls at Camp Half-Blood. Again. Your reunion with Luke is nothing you both could have ever expected. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: we’re so back trouble!verse ;) sorry for the post birthday hiatus on this, hope you like it! crack banter but err... she got a lil angsty

(posted 3/22/24, semi-edited)

—

When you wake up to the gentle rolling of the sea, it feels like a comforting embrace in a distant dream. Tangled within pristine white sheets, you could smell the salt through the small opening in the bay window–though this was a far cry from a fairytale conjured by your mind. This was your reality.

You wouldn’t call it a nightmare per se, but the circumstances were definitely less than preferred.

This is not the CSS Birmingham. No, that went up in flames. Retracing your steps to what led you to this—cushy cruise line of a prison, you reckon it’s been a few days now since you’ve become a stowaway, or a hostage. You haven’t quite decided yet.

Gods, this is what you get for passing up on that summer research internship.

Dropping off Percy, Annabeth, and Tyson at camp was supposed to be a fun walk down memory lane—until meeting with your dad, finding out Thalia’s tree had been poisoned, watching Chiron get fired, and essentially getting kicked out by the troll of a man who originally got sent to the Fields of Punishment for marketing the taste of human flesh made you remember that nothing at camp is the way it used to be.

Not like before, when you and Luke used to run it.

Your dad told you to go home and wait till you were needed. Home. Driving away from it this time around was harder than you thought it would be. You’d never been the patient type, and to drop everything just because a god told you to? Hilarious, really.

But almost a week later, after rejoining your friends on an undead ship that you let the kids commandeer, your vital mistake was thinking that Clarisse’s quest would be a breeze. Rookie move, since the last one you were on left you as scarred as Luke was. Even thinking of him now, you run your thumb over the rough patch of skin on your palm.

At the very least you hoped Tyson was okay. The last memory you have of the young Cyclops was watching him from your place on the ladder as he stopped the engines from overheating. Maybe it was the ex-head counselor in you, or your increased threshold to pain, but there was no way in hell you were leaving that kid behind.

The sound of voices from outside your door gets louder now, your throat feeling like you’ve been swallowing wads of cotton and a persistent ringing in your ear that hurts just as bad as when you watch Chris Rodriguez walk in with a plate of food. The last one he slid through the door bumps against his boot, still uneaten and he sighs.

“So what, you’re on a hunger strike now? I forgot how difficult you could be.”

You bark out a laugh. Thankfully it’s loud enough that it almost conceals the rumble of your stomach. Gritting your teeth, you mumble, “Wish it could be an idiot strike. I forgot how much of a bitch you are when it comes to your brother, Rodriguez. How long are you going to keep me here? It’s been days.”

Your former friend rolls his eyes at your dramatics like he doesn’t hold the key to your freedom.

“Three since you woke up, actually. Come on, you’ve gotta eat, or I’ll get my ass kicked,” he grumbles. You raise an eyebrow at that, walking towards the window to dodge the uncomfortable tension that fills the room. He plucks an apple slice off your plate.

“He couldn’t splurge on a balcony view? Monsters aside, it’s not like you’ve reached full occupancy.”

“There are more mortals here than you think. To be honest, he was worried you would find a way to overthrow us,” the tanned boy admits, placing the tray on the dresser. It was always a wonder to him how you and Luke were more alike than you think, even now—even when Luke hasn’t come to see you. Talking to you reminded him that you’re both pains in his ass, and Chris was still unsure of who to be more wary of, but he’s been in charge of watching you for the most part.

“Well tell your stupid captain he has no right to be worried about me. I’d much rather try to jump if given the opportunity.”

There’s no response, so you turn to face Chris who’s eating a croissant with a bashful grin.

“Seriously dude?”

“Listen, I’m hoping if I think of the right words to say, he’ll come in and deal with you himself. Opposite sides of a war and you’re still both giving me a headache. Just like old times,” he chuckles, flakes of pastry dotting across his chest plate. Your mouth quirks into a bitter smile. Old times, when Luke would shove you if he couldn’t think of a reply fast enough. When you’d punch him to get your point across if he wasn’t listening. How a kiss could end any waging war between the both of you.

You swallow, turning slowly to watch your reflection in the glass of the windowpane.

Why hasn't he come to see you? The first day, you remember spending out on the sea—treading water with no land in sight, calling out to your friends until your voice went hoarse, but you didn’t cry. You know better than to show weakness now, even when no one’s around. Chris tells you over a gulp of orange juice that you washed up next to the Princess Andromeda on the second day like it was fate. Though fate was never truly that kind to anyone; it felt like it was laughing in your face. Knocked out cold for two days after, and ignoring all of Chris’s attempts to keep you alive in the days that followed, you’ve been in this room ever since. You barely notice Chris’s departure.

Entering the ensuite bathroom, you splash your face and sip on water from the tap before stopping at the doorway. A shadow flits at the seam near your feet, someone standing just out of sight when you peer through the peephole.

But you know Luke’s there. Sons of Hermes have almost undetectable footsteps, however, Luke walking in and out of your life for as long as he has—there’s no inconceivable way to not know him. Perhaps you couldn’t hear the sound of his feet, but there’s a way the wind shifts your hair, your heart slowing in ease at his presence, and the scent of him reminiscent of skin kissed with the peel of an orange. The skin you used to kiss and greet and know like your own.

The shadow fades just as your hand reaches out towards it, leaving like he always does. Always out of reach.

Even as the Princess Andromeda continues to set sail upon the calm waters of the Atlantic Coast, you look out to the unending horizon and still feel like you’re drowning.

—

“Status report, soldier?”

Chris rolls his eyes, popping the last piece of apple into his mouth as he strolls into the command deck. The both of you had a flair for the dramatic—it serves as his reminder of why you two worked so well. Luke is sitting in his captain’s seat, watching the waves crash against the hull as the sun begins to set on the skyline.

“She’s angry. Anyone would be if they were locked up like that.”

“Well, yeah, but tell me something I don’t know. Something useful, Rodriguez,” Luke says, flicking his pocket knife closed. It’s still sticky with the juice of the fruit, catching onto his finger. He hisses, but then the sound of loud footsteps boom down the corridor, along with the sound of maniacal laughter as the door slams open. The two sons of Hermes look at each other curiously, knowing it all too well.

“You know, the next time you send a 9-year-old to stand guard, remember to not make it the one we used to throw into the lake,” you drawl, sauntering into the bridge and looking around until your eyes land on your ex, “and also remember that you taught me how to pick locks.”

Ethan Nakamura heaves behind you, hands on his knees before he stands to attention and salutes his captain.

“Sir, I was just following orders… and I’m not 9 anymore!” he snaps, glaring at you. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation makes it easier to get through. You thought being surrounded by the undead on the CSS Birmingham was scary enough, but standing in a room with ghosts from your past was somehow worse. Honestly, you learned a lot more by being in that room than if you were to jump ship like you wanted to.

“I taught you how to tie your shoes, Ethan. You’re always gonna be a little kid to me,” you scoff, brushing him aside and walking towards Luke, “your new digs are fancy, by the way. I could tell by all the teenage soldiers chasing me through the tourists.”

He stands up and meets you head to head, as the both of you inspect each other closely.

It’s been a long year without you.

You look thinner. You’ve lost the softness in your cheeks and your eyes are tired. He wonders what you chose to major in, who your roommates are, if you still think of him with a smile on your face. You’re still beautiful.

“You know me, I like to travel in style,” Luke says offhandedly, a half smile on his face. For someone leading a war against the gods, he’s calm in your presence.

“Back when I knew you, we traveled in a tin can that we also called a car.”

His clothes are nicer than anything you’ve ever seen him in. He looks really fucking good, for someone on the run. It’s almost frustrating to see how brawny he’s gotten, muscles rippling as he crosses his arms. You suppose he has nothing to do now but practice and spar (that or he’s definitely flexing for you). Pulling at the drawstring of the joggers you wear, you realize his initials are embroidered on the pocket. Pretentious fuck. Did he change you once you got on board?

Chris and Ethan suddenly get the feeling that they’re interrupting something—a reunion in a blockbuster romantic movie they’ve seen the mortals play out on the ship deck’s projector on Friday nights. The two of you stand there arguing like a married couple despite the fact you are no longer lovers and the bickering continues even when more of Kronos’ army files in. You laugh again at the sight of children walking in—some strangers, others you’ve sung to sleep in cabin 11, all still children, even back from the time before when laughter didn’t have to have a reason, light and airy in the summer sun.

“You’re sick, you know that? Did you just plan to let me rot in that room until it was all over? You didn’t even talk to m—”

“Classic, you’re more mad that I didn’t talk to you over the fact that you’re a prisoner,” he seethes, but you don’t stand down—not now or ever.

“Prisoner? I walked out and none of your Boy Scouts could do anything about it!”

His face is turning red now, jaw tightening at the angst but deep down he misses this—the banter, the thin line between hate and love you both tread on. You may be a damsel. But you were not in distress. To further prove your point, you swing an arm toward one of the boys in black (their uniforms were annoyingly corny), and they all take a step back toward the wall. Your eyebrows furrow, “What type of prison has guards terrified of the prisoner?”

He shrugs, “It was only time before you came and found me. I even gave you a bay window.”

That was not the right thing to say.

“I’ll fucking kill yo—”

“Sir? So do we try and detain her, or….” one of the demigods you don’t know interjects, and Chris Rodriguez sucks at his teeth before he responds.

“Alright. We’ve seen enough of the show. Everyone file out and let Castellan reunite with his girlfriend.”

“GIRLFRIEND?”

“Girlfriend…”

The both of you look at each other, one in anger, the other in sheepishness now that you’re alone. It's even funnier that neither of you deny it.

“You left me there in that room, and by the sight of things around here you prefer being in the company of monsters than being with me, so by the gods, what do you want, Castellan?”

You fall into the captain’s chair exasperatedly, watching him watch you.

“I’m giving you a choice,” he says simply. “You can stay here with me, or you can go.”

“A choice? You captured me to tell me I have a choice,” you spit, as if that was the stupidest thing he could say. “You didn’t give me a choice when you left me.”

“It was a matter of the circumstances. And I didn't capture you—are you mad that I betrayed everyone or not, because I can’t really read you right now, trouble…”

Your eye twitches and your hands are in fists across your lap. Another wrong thing to say.

“Keeping me here until I get the nerve to talk to you is not a choice, asshole. Do you think you could just hide me away until the bad part’s over? To save me until everything's good enough for you?” Your eyes catch onto the droplets of blood that fall onto the hardwood flooring near your feet. His hand is bleeding, and like it’s nothing of the sort you reach out for it.

Luke thinks that if he lets you your hand will still perfectly fit in his, so after a moment, he pulls his hand away out of your reach. Pulling a handkerchief out of your pocket (also embroidered with his initials—note to self, never let a son of Hermes have money), you stand to wrap it around his hand to stop the bleeding. You pretend not to notice his heartbeat increase through the throbbing of the cloth.

“Don’t let my actions make you believe that what we had wasn’t good, trouble.”

“Stop calling me that. Why are they all scared of me? Why won’t you let me touch you?” you whisper, putting pressure on his finger until the blood clots. It doesn’t even hurt, to tell you the truth. Not touching you when you’re right here in front of him is a pain he can’t find the words to describe. But what he’ll never understand is that he’s right. You two were good together. You’d have him through the bad too, if only he let you.

“Because you might think you can fix me.” Or worse, you might change his mind. You don't have to say you love him for him to know it. A part of him wishes he didn’t have to do all of this to prove to you he feels the same.

“Would you have left with me?” he mutters. A wistful look cuts through your anger and he knows he’s finally said something right. His pocket knife is on the control board and your hands drop to your side again when you realize that he may have forgotten to tell his battalion of who you are to him, but he still remembers how you like your apples cut. The silence is loud, even with the twinge that comes with the pain in your eardrum as you sway a little on your feet. Your body still knows it can relax with him, knees buckling with a false sense of security despite your willpower.

“I would've made it so that there was no other option for you but to want to stay.”

A soldier bursts through the door and apologizes for the intrusion, but the both of you have found out all you need to know. The moment is over and Percy Jackson has been captured by the army in his efforts of trying to save the day. There’s a look shared between the two of you that wonders if this will become a trend.

—

Licking your lips as your…Luke guides you out onto the main deck with your hands behind your back, you can taste the salt in your air. It’s almost as evident as the surprise in your friends’ faces when they see you alive. This time, they don’t question your allegiance but in the chaos that ensues, for a moment, you do.

For a moment, you wonder what would change if you decided to stay with him. Would the sky fall under your feet? Would the gods kneel like Luke said they would? Looking at him in your periphery, you realize it’s not what the both of you want, even if it’s the easier way out—to be together despite it all.

The two of you against the world instead of the world against the both of you.

But he won't even touch you—he’s holding you over the sleeves of your shirt, too scared of what you’ve become in his absence. You suppose you’re scared of what he’s become too.

The realization hits that you could defect from your friends, family, and home. You could undo everything that you and your friends have worked towards. But nothing he can say will change the fact that he didn’t choose you.

Luke was right, then.

You did have a choice, one that he still forces you to make as you nod at Percy to flip his last drachma into the open water, opening a direct line of communication to your father to catch the thief—of both lightning and the beat of your heart, in the act.

You realize that if the gods were the least bit grateful that you’ve kept their kids alive for the past half-decade, perhaps fate would be on your side and Luke would still be yours. But life has a funny way of working itself out when Luke admits to the open air of another crime to tack onto his list.

“Kronos was right. I should’ve killed you, Percy.”

The son of Poseidon goads Luke into another duel and you survey your surroundings for a way out. Annabeth burns holes into the side of your head and it gets you thinking, moving faster than you have in days as you walk towards her and Grover. At the raise of your hand, the demigods holding onto the pair drop to the deck, incapacitated with illusions of madness they will never comprehend. The more of them that surround you drop like flies as Luke’s eyes flicker between you and the boy he has at swordpoint.

You’ve gotten stronger in his absence—you never needed to touch him to use your powers after all. Just waiting for the right moment to strike, attacking when Luke finally let his guard down for you. He cracks his neck, knowing you’ve made your choice, so he makes his.

“Get them.”

The monster scrambles across the deck but it approaches you first, clawing at the wood and barely missing your feet as you scream for help, defenseless without a sword and you hear Luke yell your name in alarm before a punching glove-tipped arrow sends it hurtling overboard.

Your eyes lock with his again as you disembark with the Party Ponies, you with your crew as he corrals the mess you made of his. It has to be the salt air that makes your eyes seem a little misty.

Your fates have always been tied.

You protect your home, and he does what he can to protect you. Luke looks over your form like he’s checking if you’re okay, even from a distance— and it makes you wonder if this is how it's supposed to be. Someone leaving, and the both of you apart.

It’s weird to be the one leaving this time, but it isn't as easy as Luke makes it seem each time he does it. You avert your eyes once you see him put his hand in his pocket, him finding what you snuck in on the way to the deck. Luke pulls out a leather bracelet with a black camp bead, the one he missed in the year he’s been gone. He rolls the bead between his fingers, the thing you last touched before leaving him, an emblem of his archnemesis and the summer that changed everything—the consequences of his actions ripping you away from him. When he slides it on his wrist, it lightly clinks against the hilt of his sword, the lone clay bead a force of its own against Backbiter's reverberating power. He feels nostalgia for what could have been crawling through him—though Luke supposes he’s always been too vulnerable when it comes to you.

Is this what you’ve been feeling every time he walks away?

It starts to rain after you leave. Luke watches his crew take cover from the downpour, running in all different directions to hide away from the storm that ravages the Princess Andromeda.

But he stands still, looking up at the sky and hating it for how openly it’s able to cry. Luke is far away from home again—from you and it makes him wonder how much longer he’ll have to be away from you when being with you is what he truly wants.

The mission continues and the ship keeps pushing forward even as the rain washes over him, soaking through his armor and straight to the bone. Raindrops pelt through every crevice, though this onslaught is much kinder, more gentle, even when it’s angry. He closes his eyes and lets it touch his skin.

For a moment, it feels like you.

—

A hand penetrates the tide searching for yours, gripping onto your unconscious one. He’s spent hours ripping holes through time to try to find you, an advantage given to him in a dream by the Titan. The agreement, what keeps him from not running back to you is that you live—and as Luke pulls you out of the ocean waterlogged and turning blue, he wonders if it’s all a farce.

Losing you isn’t worth the wrath of the gods if you’re lifeless in his arms like this.

He shouts your name, pumping your chest with his fists and breathing life back into your lips until you cough out saltwater, head lolling against his knee. Luke’s fingers stroke your hair, touching you for the first time in a year. As life slowly brings the color back into your cheeks he silently thanks Hestia for keeping your flame alight. His soldiers call out to him from the deck, and he steels his resolve as he rows the lifeboat back to the ship. Still, Luke has to uphold his side of the agreement.

He wonders if you’d stay. Even if he knows the answer, Luke wonders if you would ever change it for him.

—

And they tell me you are evil and I answer: Yes, I know. –Patricia Smith

½ luke taglist: @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

#luke castellan x reader #trouble!verse #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader

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grandeoatmilklatte · 23 days

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Taking a Sick Day 🤒 (Ominis Gaunt x F!MC)

Alternate title: "come over, my parents aren't home!"

I'm back from another writing hiatus! Please enjoy this floor-fucking smut!

Warnings: NSFW || P in V || 0ral || f!ng3r!ng || loss of V || Characters are aged up and 18+ || MDNI || (1892 words)

“Oh sweetheart! You’re burning up! You can’t go out like this!” Ominis’s mother exclaimed as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hand resting on her son’s forehead. “Everyone else will just have to go without us.”

“It’s alright mother! I wouldn’t want you to miss the party! I can stay home alone. I’ll be asleep most of the evening anyway.” Ominis pleaded, praying he didn’t sound too desperate.

“He’s right dear, the boy is eighteen now, he’s old enough to stay home alone for an evening.” his father’s voice echoed from the other side of the room.

After a few moments of discussion between Ominis’s parents, it was agreed Ominis could indeed stay home, while the rest of the family attended a dinner party that night at the home of a family friend. Ominis smiled to himself as he heard his parents leave the room, waiting until their footsteps receded before jumping to his feet, dashing to his desk and quickly crafting a letter, whispering words to his self writing quill before shooing his owl away so that his letter could be delivered as quickly as possible.

Ominis’s plan was turning out to be a success so far.

An hour later, the Gaunts were saying their goodbyes to Ominis, letting him know that they would return past midnight, and that they wouldn’t wake him when they returned. Once they had left, Ominis summoned the family house elf, letting the elf know that he was giving him the night off so that he could be alone while he recovered from his “illness”. The elf was happy to oblige. When Ominis confirmed that the house was indeed empty, he made his way to the family room and waited, his heart beating out of his chest.

Less than twenty minutes passed before Ominis heard the sound of tapping at the window of the family room. He dashed to the front door, listening for a moment before he called out.

“Darling, is that you?”

“Yes! It’s me!” Came the beautiful voice of his girlfriend before he felt her arms wrap around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. He kissed her back and led her inside, shutting the door behind him.

“I was so worried they wouldn’t fall for it! Had I known this was that easy I would have skipped out on every one of our History of Magic classes!” Ominis said as he proceeded to quickly give his girlfriend a tour of his home. She laughed at his remark, but her eyes were wide in awe, taking in her surroundings.

“Ominis, your home is incredible!”

Ominis felt a slight pang of sadness knowing that this was the only way he could have her in his home - in secret. The couple had been together since their fifth year, with their romantic interactions being few and far between due to a lack of privacy at Hogwarts. They managed to see each other occasionally over the summer holidays, but this had to also be in public spaces, her muggleborn status making an invite to the Gaunt manor forbidden, lest she wish to be killed. Recently, Ominis had begun to slowly and secretly steal from his family’s fortune, waiting until he had stolen enough for them to run away and start a new life together. Until then, their relationship would need to remain a secret.

So, when Ominis learned that his family would be out of the manor one evening for several hours to attend a party, he couldn’t deny himself the opportunity to have the place to himself, for him and his beloved to do whatever they pleased. A simple potion created to make the drinker appear sick with a fever was all Ominis needed to make this evening work in his favor.

After giving her a brief tour of this home, Ominis led her back to the family room, where he sat himself on a dark emerald velvet sofa, while she remained standing. With a quick wave of his wand, Ominis lit the grand fireplace that was across from the sofa.

“Darling, don’t just stand there, come sit with me.” Ominis leaned back, making his lap readily available for her.

A nervous giggle fell from her lips. “Sorry, this is just…so different from what we normally do. I don’t think we’ve ever been this alone before.”

“Well, we should take advantage of the opportunity then.” Ominis began to worry he might be sounding a bit desperate. The growing desire for her, as well as the growing bulge in his trousers, was hard to ignore.

His worries faded when she straddled his lap, her hands coming up to hold his face as she kissed him. As he deepened the kiss, he brought his hands to her hips, gently guiding her so that her core was slowly grinding against his bulge, which was now straining against his trousers. Ominis could feel the tension releasing from her body as she began to move her hips on her own, increasing her pace as she continued to grind against him.

“Take your clothes off.” Ominis said breathlessly as he pulled away from her lips, the desperation completely taking over him.

Without a second of hesitation, he felt her body leave his lap, followed by the sounds of her clothing coming off. Ominis followed suit, remaining on the couch as he undressed. He couldn’t help the soft groan that left his lips when he felt her sit back on his lap, her skin coming in direct contact with his own for the first time.

She resumed her previous action, grinding herself against him, her bare cunt rubbing against the length of his hard, leaking cock. Ominis slipped his hand between their bodies, gripping his cock and trying to guide himself inside of her, but she pulled away, sinking down to her knees, trailing kisses down his chest as she did so.

Her pace was slow as she took his cock into her mouth. The oral pleasure she had given him before was always quick and quiet, either in an alleyway after one of their dates, or in an empty corner of the library when they were still in school. But right now she was taking her time, savoring every second of this alone time they had, and it was driving Ominis crazy, moans freely falling from his lips as his hands wrapped around her soft hair.

“Wait, wait, stop, not yet!” Ominis groaned, knowing that if she kept this up any longer he was going to fall off the edge way too early. “Come here.”

She did as she was told, resuming her original position on his lap, her lips immediately latching on to his. As he kissed her, he slipped his hand between their bodies once again, this time turning his attention to her as he slipped two fingers inside her wet cunt. She moaned against his lips, and adjusted her hips so that she was matching his movements as he pumped his fingers in and out of her. After a few moments he pulled his fingers out of her, using the same hand to slowly stroke himself as she lined herself up with his cock. When she was positioned perfectly, Ominis’s hands went back to her hips as she slowly sank herself down his length.

She let out a long, drawn out moan as her body adjusted to the new feeling. “Easy, darling, easy. We can just go slow.” Ominis whispered softly. She gave him an affirming hum before she began to slowly ride him, Ominis’s hands encouraging her as they remained on her hips. Her hands moved from Ominis’s shoulders to the back of the velvet sofa, gripping it as she picked up her pace, Ominis’s hands still keeping her steady.

The Gaunts would surely kill their son if they knew what he was up to right now, and with a muggleborn no less. This was the ultimate act of rebellion against his family, and the realization of this, coupled with the way she moaned in his ear, coupled with the way her walls tightened around his leaky cock, almost made Ominis fall over the edge right then and there. But he kept his composure, knowing he wasn’t anywhere near done with her yet.

“On the rug, now.” he commanded breathlessly as he lifted her off of his lap by her hips. She obeyed immediately, lying on her back on the large white rug that adorned the floor in front of the sofa.

For a moment, Ominis felt it a bit crude to be taking the woman he loved on the floor, but he ignored the feeling, immediately diving between her spread legs. Moans of his name filled the room as he alternated between licking and sucking her clit. When her moans became louder, he slipped his two fingers back inside of her, working her with both his mouth and fingers. He was so lost in the taste of her, it was difficult to pull away, but eventually he did, positioning himself so he was directly above her.

“I love you.” He whispered against her lips before he gently kissed them. As she kissed him back, Ominis once again weaved a hand between their bodies lining himself up with her, gently sliding back inside of her.

The gentleness was gone the moment Ominis bottomed out, as he began to fuck her mercilessly on the rug. He knew he didn’t have much time before he reached his climax, between the sound of her moans and the feeling of her legs wrapping around him. But, Ominis, ever the determined Slytherin, refused to let himself finish until she had first.

Almost as if she could read his mind, Ominis began to feel her walls tightening around his cock. His soft praises of “you’re so close, darling” and “you feel so good” gave her the final push she needed as she nosedived off the edge with a whimper of his name.

Ominis slowed his movements down slightly, savoring the feeling of her orgasm as he himself was finally pushed over the edge. He once again considered the significance of this moment, juxtaposed with their current location, and cursed his bloodline as he emptied himself into her.

There was no sense of urgency as they laid on the rug reveling in the afterglow. No need to quickly clean up and get dressed, or act as if they weren’t doing anything at all. Ominis could just lay there with her, listening to the sounds of the crackling fireplace, and the soft sighs of her breathing.

Although he could have laid with her on that rug for hours, Ominis eventually sat up, still wanting to enjoy the empty home. He led her into the garden, where they took an evening stroll before she provided Omins with his second orgasm of the night, taking him into her mouth again while they sat on a garden bench.

Once they had gone back inside, the two retired to Ominis’s bedroom, fatigue beginning to catch up to them. The time was approaching midnight anyway, and Ominis didn’t want to take any chances in case his family arrived earlier than expected. As they drifted off to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms, Ominis couldn’t help but wonder when his family would be attending a dinner party next.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt smut

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jgracie · 29 days

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💭 DO YOU THINK I HAVE FORGOTTEN ABOUT YOU?

masterlist | rules

in which jason wakes up on a random bus with a random girl and the feeling of your hand in his

pairing jason grace x fem!reader

warnings none as far as im aware!

an my first piece of writing on here!!! very very excited :) i know this has probs been done SO much but i had to make it my first fic LOL feel free to give any feedback!

Jason would say he’s never experienced anything crazier than what he was going through at the moment, but he couldn’t recall anything from before he woke up on that bus - not even his own age, or his so-called ‘friends’, one of which was holding his hand right now. She was pretty, but something about it felt very wrong. She didn’t hold his hand like how he was used to, which was another strange thing. Out of all memories his brain could’ve retained, it chose the feeling of someone’s hand in his.

“Jason, you okay?” The girl asked, snapping him out of his thoughts. Nothing was okay, but Jason managed to keep his composure as best as he could. As the day progressed, he eventually figured out many things: his friends’ names (Piper and Leo), the fact that he’s a demigod (that one came to him naturally) and that there was a special extraction team looking for him and his friends. However, none of it was what he was looking for. While he enjoyed gathering more information about the puzzle pieces of his life, ever since Jason had opened his eyes on that bus, there’d been a specific memory that definitely wasn’t fully gone. He’d almost gotten it when he remembered the way someone’s thumb would gently stroke his hand as their fingers interlocked, but it wasn’t fully there yet, not until Piper asked him about the bracelet he hadn’t even noticed he was wearing.

It was simple, just purple and white beads on a string with an initial that definitely wasn’t his dangling off of it, but Jason was surprised he hadn’t noticed earlier. As soon as he laid eyes on it, he knew it was one of his most prized possessions.

Without missing a beat, Jason said, “Oh, this? It was a gift from Y/N.”

Ever since then, nothing was the same. All Jason could think about was her. Somehow, the bracelet had unlocked the vault of memories of them he didn’t even know he had. It didn’t matter if he slept in the cold, harsh atmosphere of Cabin One or on a random piece of ground during their quest, his dreams were always the same. Their first meeting, him helping her with her sparring, her laugh – Gods, her laugh! If that’s what it sounded like in his dream, he couldn’t even begin to fathom what it must be like in real life. All of these little moments slowly began coming back to him and when Jason found out that they’d all be going to Camp Jupiter, his home, he was buzzing with excitement. He’d begun journaling his experiences out of fear that he’d forget again, and he couldn’t wait to be able to tell you all about what he was up to.

Time flies by when you’re having fun. Soon enough, Leo was done with building the Argo II and the three, along with Annabeth, began heading for Camp Jupiter. That’s when the worries began consuming Jason’s mind. As far as he was aware, despite clearly sharing some romantic moments with you, you two never formally started dating before he got whisked away by Hera. It's been months since that happened, what if you found someone else? He wouldn’t have blamed you, he probably broke your heart.

Surprisingly, it was Piper who comforted him. Piper, who’d been fed a fantasy and led on simply for the sake of some Goddess’ schemes. Piper, whose heart he definitely broke the moment he mentioned your name.

“It’ll be fine, Jason,” she said, standing next to him as Camp Jupiter slowly began coming into view, “the worst is over. I’m sure Y/N will understand once we explain everything. She clearly loves you a lot, trust me.”

For some reason, maybe her godly heritage working its magic, he did believe Piper. Although things had been awkward with her, she meant a lot to him, and he’d felt really bad during the conversation they had after their first quest together, so he was glad she wasn’t secretly mad at him. Turning away from her, Jason now gazed upon the shapes of his home with a newfound confidence.

And then he saw you. Whatever his brain managed to come up with in his dreams paled in comparison to the real thing. You seemed to glow and glimmer and shine and all those wonderful things as you walked towards the Argo II with Reyna. While Percy and Annabeth had their heartfelt (albeit strange) reunion, you shared your own.

“Jase!” You said, running to him. Immediately, he picked you up and spun you around. He knew he was probably getting really strange looks from his fellow Romans, but he didn’t care. This wasn’t about them.

Putting you down, Jason wiped a stray tear from your cheek as you began to speak, your voice shaky with nerves, “thank the Gods you’re back! I was so worried when Percy came here and didn’t remember anything, I prayed day and night to anyone who’d listen to bring you home to me with your memories intact. I don’t know what I would’ve done if…” You faltered, unable to even utter the words out of fear they may come true.

Luckily, Jason had many words for you, starting with these: “do you seriously think I’d forget about you?”

#jason grace x reader #jason grace x you #jason grace x y/n #jason grace #jason grace x fem reader #percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson x reader #pjo x reader #jason grace fanfic #pjo fanfic #percy jackson fanfic #jason grace drabble #cynwrites

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