#crying boney | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sweetyluvs · 9 months

Note

desperate ellie sex hcs when she gets back from soccer practice 😩

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞/𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐡𝐜𝐬 🐱

warnings : SMUT, MDNI ; vaginal eating out, dirty talk, name callings, scissoring, finger fucking.. i don’t ever write smut so ignore how bad it it 😭not rlly hcs but whatever 🧍‍♀️I MADE IT SO SHE LOST A GAME CUZ IDK WHAT ELSE TO MAKE IT ABT. hope that’s okay<33

let’s just get it out of the way, that whenever ellie loses a game she’s angry or horny if not both.

breaks down the door when she comes home, her face so scrunched you are surprised the skin hasn’t torn.

is all grumpy and moody and upset, but eventually becomes clingy and desperate.

shoving her head in your neck and rutting her hips against your ass

turns you on from how desperate she is. a very rare occasion

“not now, ellie. I have to do my homework.” you defended, ignoring the pooling of your own pussy.

“fuck— please, baby. i need you.” she groaned, her hot breath fanning down your neck— and you gave in. pressing your lips to hers.

she devours you, her pleading whines becoming angry grunts when you two make it to your bedroom.

takes off her soccer uniform, throwing it angrily across the room before practically ripping off your clothes— nipping at your bare skin immediately

you whimper, the sudden feeling of her soft lips kissing your body never failing to make you feel crazy

ellie’s fingers drift down, fiddling with the hem of your panties before teasing you from the outside. her boney fingers lightly running over the underwear, your soaking cunt leaking through the fabric

whines and begs slipping from your mouth, pleas for her to touch you. but, she stops her touching, looking you dead in the eyes “what do you want? say it, use your words.” she demands, watching you so closely you could come just from her gaze. “please, ellie.. i want you to touch me.”

the satisfied smirk on her face made you want to punch her, but your desperation overtook your urges.

“where, baby? here? or…” she slides her hand from your boobs down to your cunt again, once again teasing

“here?” you whine at her words, nodding. “why are you nodding? i said to use your words.” she growled, her brows furrowing. “i wan’t you to touch my pussy, ellie.” you moaned out, enough to satisfy her.

She slowly slipped your undies off, watching as the wet material stuck to your cunt before sliding off completely. she moved herself down, proving her head between your thighs.

She kissed your puffy clit, causing an erotic moan to leap from your swollen lips. Ellie’s tongue worked its usual magic; sucking, kissing, rolling— your eyes began to water, the feeling of her inside you causing your build up to come much faster than usual

the way she moved had you crying like a little girl; red faced and sobbing, begging her to let you cum. “what do you want, again?”

“please, please ellie please let me cum. I’ll be good, i promise.”

“sluts usually don’t keep their promises.” the insult had your tummy flipping and cunt clenching, and of course ellie noticed. She took no time slipping her middle finger inside you, your walls sucking her in desperately.

lets just say, you’d came way more than you’d expected.

“ahh.. ellie.. i can’t.” you cried out, the feeling of her clit rubbing against yours had you choking on your spit, the way she gripped your thigh in such a controlling way.

“j-js’ shut it, ‘kay? f-fuck.” she grunted out, her hips increasing their pace. your hands gripped your pink sheets,

“yeah.. js like that. fuck, look at you, already about to cum again. what a fuckin’ whore.” ellie gritted out, watching as you shut your eyes.

your hips were cramping up, unable to keep up with ellie’s speedy pace— earning your name to be called.

“fucking move it— i.. fuck— move your hips.” she demanded, moving her grip on your thigh to grab your hip and harshly shove it forward— earning a moan from you both.

“o-oh, shit..”

your began to move your hips, clits rubbing together quickly.

“ellie.. els.. i’m gonna..”

she huffed, clenching her jaw. “go ahead, cum again you fucking slut.” her words put you over the edge, a cry leap from your throat as you came for the nth time that night, legs trembling as ellie continued to rub herself against you.

her moans and grunts became more high pitched, her brows furrowing and grip tightening.

“fuckin’.. fuck, oh shit, oh shit..” she groaned out, her lips hitching their movements temporarily as she met her own orgasm. you moved your hips with her, trying to assist her.

she released her grip on you upon her finish, panting in sync with you.

“fuck.”

you bent over, kissing her cheek softly. she didn’t look at you, clearly still upset about her loss. You had an idea, removing your legs from the entanglement of your sex to get off the bed, ignoring her eyes trailing on you.

“what are you doing?”

“you’ll see.” you replied, going to the bathroom and pulling out a drawer. you closed the door, putting on the secret lingerie you’d bought for a secret.

after a while you walked out, suddenly feeling small under ellie’s intense gaze. her eyes scanned your body, hunger filling her eyes.

“I hope you have more in you for a few more rounds because that shit is coming right off.”

3K notes · View notes

mundycide · 2 years

Text

and what if I was homeless and poor soon <3

#loooove bot being able to make enough boney to live on my own or even to split rent with a roommate <3 #im crying teehee

0 notes

bambiesfics · 7 months

Text

𝐄. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♥️’𝐬 𝐌*𝐥𝐟𝐬 ╰₊✧ ﾟ

Part Two — [FIND PART ONE HERE]

ˎˊ˗ SYNOPSIS: You’re a yummy, soft around the edges older lady, with a post-partum body that jiggles in the most delicious ways. Ellie simply can’t get ahold of herself, every time she sees you, her pupils turn into pretty pink hearts, and her clit thumps in rhythm with her beating heart.

ˎˊ˗ A/N: This is a re-upload of my series fic! Part one is already written. But this can be read as a stand-alone!

𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃. She was slammed with mental images of your puffy nipples, straining against that thin pink tank top, or the chubby crease of your ass, spilling out just past the hem of your denim shorts, how the back stitching was digging itself up into the crevice of your……

She shoved the heels of her palms into her eyes and bit her bottom lip hard. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and teeth with a corrosive warmth. Her bottom lip was red, swollen and had teeth shaped impressions.

What the fuck was she doing here? What the actual fuck did she think she was doing sitting on the curb of the house right next to yours, like some teenage dirtbag? She rolled her eyes. Folding her boney knees up to her chest, to softly blow cold air on them.

It was the only thing that helped the pain, after the faint cuts and scrapes slashed across itched and burned. Each crusted over gash reminded Ellie of how stupid she looked tripping off her skateboard like some fucking peon, 2 hours earlier. And now she was here, decompressing on your goddamn doorway.

As she brushed some of the gravel off her shorts, she was assaulted with the violently embarrassing memories from the skate park. There was no way those assholes at the ramp were going to see her cry, but she wanted to, so bad. Her knees hurt like a motherfucker after she fucked up the landing on her wheelie, and she paid for it with a mouth full of dirt and knees slashed by rocks. Ellie would eat shit like a champ, every fucking time. No matter how bad it hurts.

She wasn’t a kid.

But she sure felt like one now that she was sitting here, ankles crossed and hugging her knees. Near your crib instead of back home, at hers, where she should’ve been. She wanted to tell herself it’s because yours was closer. But it wasn’t, she knew it wasn’t. And yet she was still comforted by the thought.

Her head swung in the direction of your home.

“Nother’ fucking neighbour.”

It was the 5th time it had happened in the past hour. Ellie was tired of cracking her neck to the side, trying to see which person opened their door to leave all for it to be fucking neighbour. And like the previous 4 times it had happened, it was typically some suburban asshole. Like a random dad taking out the trash in Birkenstocks. Likely a lazy fuck who waited for his wife to nag him to get it done. Or it was some brat taking their dog ‘Charlie’ or ‘Bella’ or fucking ‘Fido’ out to take a fat shit on the front lawn.

And again, not one of those people were you.

This is why Ellie’s hedonistic inclination to avoid addressing her feelings head on, but instead choosing to shroud them in convenient excuse after convenient excuse was ultimately, destructive. Because now, she was taking it out on random neighbors and you for ‘gatekeeping yourself’ away from her, while she waited. Probably doing some old lady shit right now like Pilates.

She groaned aloud.

‘Gatekeeping yourself’ isn’t even a fucking thing. Ellie was just in pain, hurt and angered; humiliated. She was mad, at no one in particular. But maybe, herself.

She wiped the fat tear that rested on the apple of her pink cheeks and blew air into her cupped palms. Blowing away the little bits of sediment and gravel that were still stuck there. She repeated the action on her knees, bracing the sharp sting.

She sniffled and leapt to her feet, ignoring the angry rage of pain in her knees, before she dropped the skateboard onto the gravel. Her foot slid on, ready to push off and just fuck off from this part of your neighborhood.

“Ellie!”

“Ellie is that you?”

Ellie stopped to stomp on the back of the deck and flip the board up into her hand. You were there peeking from behind the door, holding open the heavy wood with the side of your plush body. You sized her up as recognition bloomed on your face.

God is real.

If there was ever a time Ellie flirted with agnosticism, she was repenting for it while staring at you. Because at that very moment, God was real. Especially because Ellie knew she looked like a grimey piece of shit. She knew she was a runny, mascara-stained mess, with fucked up knees and fucked up posture. And yet you’re here. Supple, mature and womanly as ever looking at her like she’s some little doll. God, why were you waving her over? Stop. Stop crooking your finger like that, please, before she goons in her cargo shorts.

“H-hi I was just skating through the neighborhood and—.”

“Ellie, are you okay? How did that happen? You’re covered in cuts!”

“I’m fine, on god, I just..I…fucked up a trick. got a bunch of these stupid scrapes to show for it” She rubbed the back of her head, sheepish.

“Ellie, you should be more careful next time. Come ere.’”

Your sad pout made her stand straighter.

She wanted to fuck that pout off your face. Or maybe fuck it on your face. Like how sometimes, when girls are fuzzy brained during a painful but good pounding, they get this little look on their face. It’s all sad and pouty and shit.

What she would give for you to have that sad and pouty expression while she carved her cock in you. Choking out moans like…

“Ellie agh slow down!” or “Ellie m’ so full inside. You’re stretching me thin.” or better yet an “Ellie I’m so sore from last night. Be more careful next time..”

She could imagine the last one so vividly she nearly shuddered.

If it wasn’t obvious before, Ellie was a supreme pain slut.

She blinked the thoughts away, and brought her skateboard in front of her crotch. Not that she could get a boner, but it was reflexive at this point. Something she’d picked up from her friends when they would brick up everytime a pretty girl & her friends came to the park.

You closed the distance between you two and wrapped a hand around her fragile wrist to pulled her inside. Ushering her to the nearest kitchen stool to comfortably treat the painful

cuts and scrapes.

A little part of Ellie wondered if you would put your tits in her mouth for her to suckle on, if she whined hard enough for it. You were such a natural at being motherly, doting and worried. You were here in mid-day august, about to tend to some skaters girl’s dumb boo boos. While you probably had better things to do, like watch an episode of modern family, or prep dinner for your family.

She chuckled to herself. Then squeezed her thighs together. Slipping into a fantasy of you supporting her head, as she greedily nursed and suckled from you. Sucking out of each tit until both nipples grew shiny with her saliva and puffy from her greedy suction.

She blinked rapidly to pull herself from the fantasy, and deflated in the stool.

God, what a stupid fucking delusion.

She mewled in the base of her throat as you came back from the kitchen, with a first aid kit in tow. You settled between her knees, gripping the crook of one knee to gently dab pats of alcohol. She winced and grit her teeth, breathing through the fire of the sting. But her pink face and shiny eyes betrayed her weak facade, and your heart ached. Poor baby girl, all you could do was whisper earnest sorry’s in between each dab.

As you nearly finished bandaging the raw skin, you peered up at her, seeing the way her brows knitted up and how she trapped her bottom lip beneath her teeth. Maybe it was the innate motherly instinct, but you felt the urge to kiss the little forehead wrinkles away, and stroke her hair until she was less tense. Despite your nerves, you cleared your throat. “Ellie what were you really doing out there all alone, hmm?”

Her cheeks reddened like a hasbro toy truck. Flaming fucking red, like how Jesse loved to describe it.

“I was at the skatepark with some twink—guys… I usually shred with. But I got winded so I took a rest top…on your lawn.”

“A rest stop huh?” You teased.

The excuse sounded like cheap shit even to her own ears but it was the best thing she could come up with in the moment, with the way you looked so worried. She was just grateful you didn’t notice her about to call her bestfriend a twink. Ellie didn’t want a lecture about bigotry from you, because judging by how clueless you’d been when it came to her attraction to you. That guaranteed you were also clueless about her being a raging dyke.

Ellie whistled “So uh..where’s your kid?”

“At grandma’s.”

Vague. She thought.

“My mother said she’d been wanting to babysit for a while now. So I decided to give myself a little time alone to enjoy the time being, I suppose.”

“I suppose?” God you were a

relic. No one born after the 2000’s speaks like that.

She mused.

“Ah, that’s so hot.” Ellie muttered, seconds before realization hit her and a deeper blush bloomed wildfire on her face. It was becoming increasingly humiliating to speak to older adults like they were her little fruitcake punk friends. You were a proper woman, not a scumbag. Ellie knew her lexicon needed a significant change if she hoped you’d ever take her seriously.

You laughed at her silliness, and patted her knee before walking away to store the first aid kit back in the kitchen. With each resounding thud of your footsteps

Ellie couldn’t help but drink in the way the ripple of your robe outlined your ass. The way the milky, thin fabric practically outlined the dark line that split both globes right in the…

She put her knuckle between her teeth and bit down. God she needed to leave.

You looked back to smile at her. But she was doing it again, not meeting your eyes. Matter of fact her gaze was somewhere else, and your stomach flipped because of it. Her bangs were curled beautifully around her face, and her lips were parted open, she wheezed each breath.

You reached up into the cabinet, to gently place the kit back, and dropped back onto the balls of your feet. Your buttcheeks jiggled with the drop. And you saw her bury a cough into her hand from your peripheral vision. Ellie crossed her ankles together and clamped them there.

Picking up the tray of ginger snap cookies you’d laid out for guests, you walked back towards her. Holding them out for her to take home. Ellie didn’t meet your eyes. Or your face. She pointedly looked at the letter magnets on the fridge.

She blinked rapidly. “Can I just…can I just use your bathroom really quick?”

“Yeah of course, it’s just up those stairs behind you. First door on your left.”

Ellie gave a wobbly attempt at a smile and scrambled off the seat. She stomped two steps at a time up the stairs, a habit she formed when she was a younger teen, she couldn’t break.

She flicked the lights on and took note of the spa-like ambience in your bathroom. The soft shell coloring and warm lighting. The bathroom smelled like you, like your clothes whenever she got real close to you.

She also wondered if you smelled like that down there too. If the scent of your body wash lingered on the inner lips of your vulva. If she split the lips apart, would she get hit with a whiff of your natural musk? Or the floral scent of peonies? She really needed to know.

She also knew she was a pervert.

But she couldn’t help it, you don’t even know how desirable you are, and you weren’t even trying. You were some sweet milf in an average ass fuck suburban neighbourhood, who was making a teen girl go fucking balls-to-the-walls insane to breed you.

Locking the bathroom door, Ellie shoved her low rise cargo shorts and boxers down her hips and dipped two fingers to play in her wetness. She shoved her right finger into her mouth to stimulate the prod of a nipple into her mouth as she ghosted a hesitant left finger over the supple skin of her pussy lips. Teasing the pleasure she was about to feel once she just split them open and rubbed the bundled nub. She sucked a whistling breath through her teeth and tipped her head back against the wall. It lolled to the side.

That’s when she saw it.

Lacy, bunched up, and barely enough fabric to even floss teeth with, was the lavender thong you left neglected in the corner of the bathroom floor. Probably from the shower you freshly took before you met her outside.

She shouldn’t.

But fuck, she did.

Ellie scrambled for your underwear and pulled it apart. Searching for the spot she wanted most. The light reflected against the gentle shininess in the crotch, and she ran the pads of her fingers gently against the crotch, feeling the clear stickiness still left over from earlier.

Stuffing it against her nose she did the very thing that would probably get her put on some type of sex offender registry if you ever found out.

Ellie took a big sniff, and then another, and then another, and then several more until she was high on your scent. The sound in the bathroom was disgustingly wet as Ellie rubbed and slapped her clit over and over. Inching her fingers down to her hole to shallowly thrust and collect some slick before dragging them up again to add slipperiness along her slit. Confined within the walls of your small bathroom were the wet and messy sounds of a girl, getting herself off to your scent. And it confirmed her hopes, this was all your own scent, natural and musky.

Your underwear was permanently pressed up against her caramel freckled nose as she inhaled. She picked up her pace, going from rubbing over her wet clit to tapping and lightly pinching it.

Ellie was a pain slut.

Ellie kept up her feverish actions. And let the degenerate fantasy of rimming your asshole, licking the sweat off of the hole, on her knees, while you prepared some mid-day snacks, tip her gaping pussy hole to orgasm.

“Mommy play with me.” she whimpered pathetically.

God she was twisted.

She came all over her inner thighs. And pearlescent cum rolled down in droplets towards the porcelain of your toilet.

Using your toilet paper, she hastily cleaned herself and pulled her boxers back up.

The mental debate didn’t last any longer than 5 seconds before she shoved your panties into her back pocket and washed her hands. There was no point in her entertaining otherwise, she knew she was a degenerate.

Ellie ran straight down the stairs, the acrid feel of humiliation scratching up the back of her throat and making her head hot. She selfishly snatched a cookie off the flower dessert tray and kicked her deck into her hand.

“Ellie! Wait I got you a snack to take ho-“

She ran out the door and slammed the door aggressively. The glass pane in the window of the door shook for several seconds.

She was erratic.

But then the same door burst open again, and the antsy brunette ran back inside, stomped towards you and smashed her lips against yours. Slotting her lips inside yours and sucking your bottom lip into her mouth. Her hands came up nervously to grip the fat of your ass. Letting some spill between her spindly fingers. Massaging it.

Ellie kissed like a horny boy. When she pulled back, you wobbled into her. She caught you around the waist and let your heaving chests sync together.

But as if she gained sudden consciousness, an awareness of what the fuck she was doing, her eyes expanded wide, and her back went ramrod straight.

She took several steps back and ushered out “Why did I just fucking?—Oh God.”

She ran. She ran so fucking fast she forget she even had the skateboard in her hand. And pounded canvas sneaker to gravel all the way home.

Ellie didn’t know what type of disorder she developed that made her mind blank out, sexually assaulting hot milfs because she couldn’t mitigate a crush on a woman to save her life. But she needed to google a local psychiatrist's office and see how long the waitlist was.

Your mental state on the other hand? Yeah you were left speechless by the brash behavior of the little tomboy. Her aggression, perverted looks and obviously inappropriate feelings towards you left you breathless and reeling.

It could’ve been because it was technically legal, that Ellie thought it appropriate to attempt that sudden kiss. But that clearly didn’t mean it was a sound decision to encourage any kind of relationship. Jesus, did the girl think she was in a porno or something? That you were going to invite her upstairs and screw her brains out, hide her in the closet when your “husband” came back home too early?

There were a million and one thoughts going through your head. Yet every time you tried to plan an appropriate way to address what had happened, your mind was drawing nothing but blanks. And it followed you like that, all the way into the evening. Long after Ellie had ran out, long after you’d said goodnight to your toddler on the phone. And long after the sun had set, after the street lights turned on.

In the thick of the night, you shoved your favorite mini bullet deep until it was snuggled between your sticky pussy lips, warmed by the hug. You’d been vigorously searching for porn videos like “brunette x milf lesbian porn.” And “younger girl x milf lesbian porn.”

The vibrator buzzed on top of your clit, slinging pleasure up your spine while you humped against it. You rolled a chubby nipple between your fingers, and pulled at your tit so hard your nipple ached painfully.

“Nnngnnh” you had to squeeze your hole over and over.

You shakily clicked on a video, a bedroom scene where the babysitter pervertedly creeped on the mother as she undressed, and got off to it. You had an urge to cry, mounted by pleasure. You moaned a sob “Ell-lie.”

A rivulet of drool slipped out from your gaping lips and pooled at the sheets. You watched the brunette pervert turn the milf into a begging slut, pleading to not be fucked like a little whore. And the young one fucked her agressively anyway. Your head was fuzzy. You’d never been so turned on by a video.

You replaced the face of every scene with the brunette with the face of Ellie. With her freckles, plump lips and her tattooed arm.

You just closed your eyes and let the video tip you to a full body orgasm. Your hole was gaping and sucking in air, contracting around nothing for most of the night. Hungry to have some sweaty little girl plug them up with her tongue, or her fingers. For her to stretch the skin there around something, until it was thin. You slept the whole night as your hole gulped in air in search of something to plug it with.

You were going to find that little runt. Drag her back there and have a conversation with her about forcing a kiss on older women, then leaving her to deal with it in a puddle of their own slick.

-fin-

Requested Taglist: @elliewilliamsgf69 , @thesevi0lentdelights , @aouiaa , @endureher , @dangthatsareallyreallylongname5 , @elsbbg , @emilieebabyy , @seattlesellie , @coeurify , @elliesflower

943 notes · View notes

yandere-kokeshi · 3 months

Note

This might honestly be uncomfortable. But I would like to know Dad! Ghost reaction on this topic.

How would he react if his kid came to him, explaining that they were SA.

— Yandere Dad! Ghost reacting to his kiddo confessing they were SA

Warnings: yandere behavior, mentions of SA, nothing descriptive, mentions of trauma, comfort.

A/N: To be honest with you, I really like these types of dark asks. If you’re ever in a situation of needing help, please call your local police. You’re not alone.

Icon of Ghost belongs to @/Yumithefrostypanda — NOT MINE

Dad! Ghost blinks at you, before whispering a small “What?”

His body stops, he stares at you with everything. His brown-doe eyes widening. And suddenly, his chest becomes hard to breathe — someone hurt you. His blood chills in his veins, icy shards trickling throughout his system and lodging themselves into his heart repeatedly against his boney cage.

He looks at you, swallowing thickly. “W… when?”

It’s only a matter of seconds before he brings you into a tight hug, a hand grabbing the back of your head and pushing you into him. You two stay like that, minutes or hours, your crying echoing into the house as he rubs your back. There aren’t many things he can truly sympathize with, but he can when it comes to this matter. Especially when he cares about you so much.

“Hey…” he starts, biting his lip when you don’t look at him. “Hey— look at me. It wasn’t your fault. None of it. And I promise ya’, that I’m going to make ‘em pay for what they did to you.” he grabs your cheeks, wiping your tears before kissing your head.

He’s fuming. Seething in a way you’ve never seen him before. Tempted to find the prick, and break every single bone in their miserable, worthless body. He’s going to hurt them. Hurt them so bad that they’ll be begging for death instead. His hands are shaking, hugging you so tight that you end up squeaking out words.

For the rest of the next few days, Dad! Ghost has eyes on you. Focusing on your days getting better, and seeking out therapy for you. Always being an open arm for cuddles or talks. Another thing is that he’s happy you told him; something like that, hiding it, could kill. And he’s, in a way, relieved you can get help.

From his experience, Dad! Ghost understands how hard it is. The self-blame. Continuous flashbacks and nightmares. The feeling of being a disappointment. And to that, he’s there for you. Willing to sleep with you to help with your terrors, take you out of school no matter the time, and help you in any way, shape, or form.

Without your knowledge — Dad! Ghost becomes unforgiving. Finding out things about the person who hurt you. And ensuring that they suffer. He promised nobody would hurt you. And he’s living up to that with every fiber of his being.

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking. It helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

377 notes · View notes

castiel-veilmont · 2 years

Text

Soft Sebastian things

He‘s manly and badass and cool, independent and a big boy freelance coder and he will cry in frustration if a clothing tag, that he forgot to cut off, grazes his skin. He’s a very scary manly guy, yes.

He really really likes to spend quality time with you, just sitting in the same room while you each do your own thing is so domestic to him, he can’t help but love it.

Sometimes he just stops what he’s doing and glances at you while you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing. Yoba, he is absolutely smitten.

But sometimes he gets up and skadeedles towards you, similar to how a cat comes up to you with intention of affection and just silently asks for a little of your attention. His daily fill was running low :)

If you’re in the kitchen, he’ll just hug you from behind, chin on your shoulder and a small peck to your check/neck. If you’re sitting down, he’s planting himself next to you and either opening his arms to welcome you in or just leans on you. Either way, he will bury his nose into your hair and rub your back and arms.

When you two lay down in bed together there’s always an exchange of the softest, most gentle greetings whispered into the night.

*cue groaning upon lying down onto the mattress bc he has been shrimp posturing for six hours*

*blanket rustling noises*

*wiggles.exe*

*momentary silence*

“hi.”

For all the hot people out there with upset stomachs all the time, he will rub your tummy if you need him to. Will get peppermint oil, make you ginger tea or just tries to keep you hydrated.

Do you know how much he loves you. He finds you so precious and wonderful. So pretty and perfect and oh how he could go on and on—

He doesn’t reduce you to your physical appearance, cause he quite literally fell for your charms. But holy fuck does he find you attractive. (it’s probably because he loves you that much so he just loves your whole being)

Thighs are one example, thick or thin, doesn’t matter, he will kiss them, he will lay his head on them.

Hips! Boney hips, squishy hips, he loves em, he likes to squeeze your hip. Has a thing for hip dips.

He loves your eyes as well. Usually, he dislikes intense eye contact with people, but with you, he could stare for hours. There’s so much love swirling in your eyes, so much warmth and the sparks never stop flying from the both of you.

Likes holding your hand, it calms him quite a lot as well, because it grounds him, a sense of comforting security.

Would go to video game stores with you in Zuzu City or visits arcades! (You guys both suck at claw machine games tho, so you just get a ton of little gachapons)

He would also go to actual toy stores with you and push you around in the shopping cart, both of you having a whole ass nostalgia trip about the array of different toys. You two may or may not get plushies together and make a silly love story for them :)

Oh and you also judge the new ugly toys <3

“The fuck is that” “I- What—I don’t even know”

#sdv sebastian #sdv sebastian fluff #sdv sebastian x reader #sdv #stardew valley #stardew valley x reader #stardew valley x farmer

3K notes · View notes

70s-music-tourney · 3 months

Text

Here are the final 33 songs that will feature in the 70s music tourney

Gimme, Gimme, Gimme by ABBA

Killer Queen by Queen

Rasputin by Boney M

September by Earth Wind & Fire

American Pie by Don McLean

The Chain by Fleetwood Mac

Hotel California by the eagles

Brandy (you're a fine girl) by The Looking Glass

Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin Rocket Man by Elton John

Don't Fear the Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult

Jolene by Dolly Parton

Imagine by John Lennon

Baba O' Riley by The Who

I will survive by Gloria Gaynor

Let it be by the Beatles

Renegade by Styx

the Devil went down to Georgia by Charlie Daniels

Starman by David Bowie

Blitzkrieg Bop by The Ramones

Carry On my Wayward Son by Kansas

The Logical Song by Supertramp

Piano Man by Billy Joel

Stayin Alive by The Bees Gees

Midnight Train to Georgia

Ballroom Blitz by Sweet

Boys don't cry by The Cure

Horse with no Name by America

Mr. Blue Sky By Electric Light Orchestra

Psycho Killer by the Talking Heads

Blinded by the Light by Manfred Manns's earth band

Smoke on the Water by Deep Purple

Take me home County Roads by John Denver

Me and Bobby Mcgee by Janis Joplin

#70s music #70s #music #tournaments

390 notes · View notes

catmelonwriting · 10 days

Note

Oohmygofd pleaaase plsplspls write bulimic reader... As some1 who's bulimic i will die if u do (positively)

BSD Men with a bulimic!reader

Warnings: Bulimia, not proofread, vomit type purging, very self inserted and based off my experiences, bad body image, reader is not underweight, hurt/comfort, a couple usages of (name) in akutagawa's bc I just can't see this man using pet names

Characters: Akutagawa, Chuuya

A/N: I'm sooo glad I'm not the only one who wanted this.. I was really hesitant to write it bc my blog is entirely smut and that usually does better than hurt/comfort, angst, or fluff, but if I'm not the only person who wants it I'm deffy gonna write it!! I don't really like Akutagawas I definitely didn't do him justice but I loveeeee chuuya's

Akutagawa

- Probably will not notice until you tell him.. just thinks you're sick or something when he hears coughing noises from the bathroom.

- From then on he's really concerned, he'll probably do a lot of research on it (w/o you knowing ofc)

- Will try and get you into treatment, even just IOP, but if you refuse HE is going to monitor everything your eating

- If you do end up binging in the middle of the night or while he's not there, the bathroom is off limits for the next 45 minutes.

- He will literally stand in the way of the doorway if you try to go, he's not risking anything.

- If you try not to eat too much the next day to 'make up for it' he'll sit with you while you eat and give you encouraging words here and there, but neither of you are getting up till your finished.

One shot

You're kneeled over the bathroom toilet, the back of a toothbrush nudging your throat, when you let out a loud gag. You immediately take the toothbrush out and cover your mouth.. you had learned to be so quiet after akutagawa found out about your eating disorder, how could you let that happen?

You hear footsteps approaching the bathroom door before three short knocks. "Yeah, Ryū?" You ask, your voice was raspy and you sounded like you had been crying. Fuck, he knows.

"..(Name) are you alright? Are you doing something you shouldn't?" His voice was sharp, like he was angry. You knew he wasn't, you knew he would never be angry at your for something like this.. just.. upset, but you can't help the guilt that courses through your body at his words.

"No." You choke out, shuffling to shove the toothbrush back in the holder. "I heard gagging." You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the rasp. "Um.. I wasn't. Just coughing. I'm not feeling well." You call out, quickly flushing your thrown up dinner down the toilet. "I'll be out in a second."

You dig in the drawers for your perfume, air freshener, dry shampoo, anything you can spray to cover up the smell of your throw up, but you couldn't find anything. So you hesitantly clean your hands and leave the bathroom with the overwhelming smell of vomit filling it.

"Hey, love." You mumble, sitting down next to him on the couch, your voice shaky. "..(Name), don't lie to me. I know what you were doing." He mumbles, placing his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. You blink back tears as you push your face into his chest. "Im sorry.. I'm so so sorry.. I didn't mean to.. I didn't.." you choke out, sniffling.

"Don't apologize to me, dear. I'm not mad, or even upset. Just.. concerned. You told me you would stop." His voice sounded sympathetic, something you weren't used to with him. The smell of cigarette smoke hung on your jacket, a scent you had grown to love and found comforting since meeting him. The way his lanky, boney, ring covered fingers glided through your hair, his soft voice, it all comforted you, it all told you it was okay to cry.

His heart ached at the little gasps and sniffles and whimpers you let out whilst sobbing into his chest. It made him want to start bawling with you, but of course he wouldn't. He could never appear weak to you. "I'm sorry- I'm so sorry Ryu- I just can't stop- I can't stop no matter how hard I try.." you sob, hands moving to cling onto the fabric of his shirt. "I'm so sorry!"

"Oh baby.." he sighed. You didn't want to look up, you know he's looking down with pity. Pity you didn't want. "It's alright. I don't want you to cry, it's not your fault.. I understand- well, no, I don't. I don't understand, but I want to help you." Wrapping his arms around you, he leans into your head, the scent of your shampoo filling his nose.

That's where you two lay for the rest of your night, him whispering comforting words in your ears, giving you all the love you could ever ask for, something you'd never expect from a man like him.

Chuuya

- He notices within the first month of FRIENDSHIP

- The way you get up and scurry off to the bathroom after every meal you share, the guilt on your face after grabbing a third serving at the party you two are at, how quick you shove shit down your throat before tears well up in your eyes and you excuse yourself.. all of it.

- He definitely cares, but probably won't confront you about it till later on in the friendship if you're still having trouble

- He won't just send you a lousy "have you been eating properly?" Text either, he's gonna invite you over to his house making it known you two are gonna have a serious conversation, then sit you down in his living room then prod and probe till you admit it.

- If you're still struggling w/ it when you're dating/when you move in together (which you probably are bc eds are harsh) he'll be like Akutagawa and monitor everything you eat, just a little more stealthily

- He is not afraid to tell you to slow down if you seem to be overeating.. he takes the binging just as seriously as the purging.

Oneshot

You had awakened in the middle of the night with a need for food. Anything you could get your hands on you needed inside of you asap.

You quickly and carefully slipped out of his arms and out of bed, tip toeing to the kitchen and flicking the light on. The first thing you see is a brand new box of cereal you had bought today, Chuuya hadn't had it in awhile, it was his favorite as a kid and he seemed happy while buying it. Guilt tote through you when you ripped open the box and shuffled handfuls into your mouth, before discarding the half empty box on the ground.

You reached for the cake you two had made for your birthday last week, taking fistfuls with your bare hands and shoving the icing covered cake in your mouth.

After shoving everything in vicinity down your throat, you open the fridge to find a diet coke, or a regular, just anything with bubbles.. anything with carbonation to help you get this all up better. Anything. Your eyes land on an energy drink you had bought yesterday.. you were saving it for today, but in your eyes you needed it now.

You crack it open and glug it down, before looking at the mess you made on the floor. Empty boxes, half eaten cake, a carton of half eaten cookies, an empty bowl that was previously filled with salad, an empty milk carton.. you felt sick to your stomach. You needed this out of you now. Now.

You quietly tip toe to the bathroom, turning off the kitchen lights behind you and locking the door behind you, kneeling on the ground in front of the toilet. You hated doing this, you hated how gross you felt hovering over something where your ass went.. but you needed it gone. You couldn't gain weight.. you already felt so fat as it is no matter how much chuuya tried to convince you you're average.. you just couldn't believe it. Looking in the mirror all you could see was piles of fat.

You push the back of your toothbrush down your throat, gagging almost silently as the first few things came up. You recognized some chocolate, veggies, something.. red.. you didn't want to think about it too much as you shoved the toothbrush back down your throat. You watched as everything you ate came up opposite to the order you had it in.

Finally, you recognize barely chewed lumps of cereal fall into the toilet, and after you throw up stomach acid mixed with dark blood, you sigh, wipe your mouth and stand up, flushing the toilet, and clean yourself up.

Walking out of the bathroom, you see the kitchen lights on. Fuck. You could've sworn you turned those off.

Your ginger haired boyfriend turns the corner from the kitchen, looking you dead in the eyes with disappointment on his face. You wished you could just evaporate. "Love, what is this?" He sounded.. exasperated. Tired of you, tired of your illness, tired of having a girlfriend who can't just eat normally. You were tired of it too, but the Internet made recovery seem so much easier than it really was.

Tears flow out of your eyes as you wipe the remaining spit dribbling from your mouth away. "Did you throw up?" He sighs.. you can't tell if he's being sympathetic or if he's annoyed. Maybe both. All you can muster is a nod before you fall into his chest, letting out broken sobs and choking out apologies. From where you are you can glance into the kitchen, noticing he had cleaned up the little mess you made.

God, not only did he have to deal with such an emotional, disordered girlfriend.. he had to clean up after you too? You felt like such a terrible person, like you didn't deserve his love.

"Cmon, sweetie, let's go to bed. Let me tuck you in." He mutters sleepily. "Don't apologize.. don't apologize, it's not your fault. You know I'm not mad." His whispers comfort you and make you feel worse at the same time, you didn't understand it. "I'm not mad, just worried. I could never be mad at you." He speaks softly, nudging you towards the open door of your bedroom.

You whimper and sniffle as he tucks you into bed, before getting back in himself and wrapping his arms around your waist. He leans in, whispering sweet nothing's in your ear, tracing shapes in your hip, telling you you're beautiful and it'll all be okay until you fall asleep.

When you wake up the next morning, Chuuya isn't there. He must've gone to work already. You see a small note on the bedside table next to you, and hesitantly pick it up to read its contents.

"Hey doll, I'm sorry I left for work before we could talk about this in-person, and I definitely have a plan to speak to you about it tonight. But I wanted to let you know I'm not mad at you, nor am I upset with you, I'm just concerned for your well-being and safety. I want to get you into some treatment program because I'm not trained in this, and I don't really know how to help. I know this isn't entirely about your weight or how your body looks, but baby believe me when I say you're beautiful. You are the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid my eyes on and I am so lucky to have you. You are not 'too much' and your emotional baggage is not too much for me to carry. Even if it was, it's worth it for a girl as sweet and caring as you.

Love, Chuuya"

You hold the note close to your chest and push yourself backwards into bed, draping the covers over yourself and falling back asleep with his letter held close.

145 notes · View notes

absolutekillswitch · 4 months

Text

no alarms and no surprises (please)

pairing: luke castellan x thanatos!reader

tw: major TLO spoilers (honestly tho if u haven’t read it yet, begone), major character death, discussions of blood and death, Luke was reader’s first kiss, mentions of past manipulation, lots of crying, and also i made [REDACTED] take way too long to die for the sake of dialogue. Sorry. Also! she/her pronouns are used, but I tried to steer clear of descriptors outside of that so this SHOULD be woc friendly

word count: 3.4k

It was cruel, this end he was facing. Y/N had felt it long before she’d seen it, that deep intrinsic tug within her, that sixth sense that had begun to go haywire since New York had fallen asleep, since the final countdown for western civilization had officially started running. The tug that alerted her to a new death in her vicinity. The curse bore by the children of death, the chained god, to feel the string of fate being cut, to sense lost souls being carried to the underworld by their father. To mourn, but not to see. She’d never felt it as frequently as she did now, feeling like threads tugging her in countless directions, so much so that her aim with her sword was affected. She’d been coined the best swordsman back at camp, after the previous titleholder had vacated the position, but now, it was like she was jittery, like a newborn zebra with a sword in their grasp, trying to learn how to stand and fight all at once, her battle senses being overridden by the unavoidable emotional pain of the fact that every tug she was feeling, was the feeling of a fellow demigod dying.

But then she’d felt that one.

The strength of this particular tug wasn’t lost on her. It was stronger than any she’d faced yet— stronger than the tugs of those she’d slain herself, and stronger than the tugs of those who had been close to her, when they were alive. It was so strong that the metaphysical tug had felt like a real, physical one, like she was physically being pulled in its direction. The proof of it is the crude slash on her forearm, where the kid she’d been fighting back had gotten a lucky shot on her due to her presently distracted nature.

It had to have been him.

She wasn’t sure just who she’d been fighting, and in the end, she doesn’t think it really mattered all that much, if they were a former camper; a demigod, or if they were an armored monster, as with a wave of her hand, the ground rumbles, opening up under their feet, boney, decayed hands dragging them into the earth, only for the ground to close up on them halfway through their forced descent. Y/N didn’t even notice, nor did she really care. All she knew was that she’d put an end to her own fight, allowing her feet to carry her to his side, numbness flooding her body, with a whispered command to her undead soldiers,

“Protect them.”

She’s not even sure how she found him, exactly. She’d just always been able to find him like that. Now seemed to be no exception to the rule, as she followed what she would consider to be the string of fate to his side. The sight she sees when she does is an unwelcome one, however. There’s three of them— she sees Percy and Annabeth crowded around a figure on the ground. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who it is.

“Oh, Gods,” Y/N whispers, hesitating to get closer. She doesn’t know if she can. At the sound of her voice, Percy turns. He looks pale, eyes ringed in red. It looks like he’d been crying, exhausted, eyes wide, as if he were afraid he’d collapse if he even blinked. Y/N wouldn’t blame him, if he did.

“Y/N—“ He hesitates to speak, to try and explain, but Y/N doesn’t let him. She’s already marching over, ignoring the dread building in her gut, the tears in her eyes. And that’s when she sees him.

“Luke,” She whispers, the single word bordering on a gasp. Internally, she’s vaguely aware that this is the first time she’d used his name in years, preferring to call him by his last name, or traitor, at best, or whatever random curse she could think of at the time, at worst. She’d gotten pretty good at it, honestly— the coming up with insults to hurl at him every time they’d crossed paths since his betrayal. But now, all of that is gone. It seems that at that moment, Annabeth and Percy disappeared. It’s just them as she crumbles, falling to her knees before he can even protest. It’s him, not Kronos, she knows. They’d all learned how to tell the difference between the two, when Kronos had taken Luke’s face. Kronos had a colder air about him, eyes golden. Just pure evil that seeped into your bones, that seemed to change even the people around you. But this? This was Luke Castellan. Soft, soulful brown eyes, and a welcoming air about him. This was the guy who had been like all of Camp Half-Blood’s big brother. This was the guy Y/N had been in love with ever since she’d arrived at camp, even if she realized it far too late. Even if he was currently trying to get Percy to make her leave, not wanting her to see him like this. Never like this. Her eyes take stock of his appearance against her will. He looked just as bad as Percy did— worse, actually, given he was bleeding, Annabeth’s knife clattering from his hand to the marble below him. It makes her heart ache, the picture in front of her painted so clearly, even if she hadn’t been present to see it herself.

A hero’s soul, cursed blade shall reap.

They’d realized what the prophecy meant, clearly. Luke had to be the one to take Kronos— and to an extent, himself— out. And when Luke had done it, when he’d touched his own Achilles heel, Kronos had run. So now, Luke Castellan was dying. Alone.

Well— not alone.

She was still here. She always would be, even if he’d insist otherwise. He hated how she always had made him want to be a better person. Even now, as he lay dying, covered in sweat, blood, and ash. If she tries hard enough, she can almost pretend that they’re back at camp, that they’d had an extremely rough day playing capture the flag, that the pair of them are in the infirmary, making up ridiculous stories for the scars they’ll have as a result of their adventure, shedding tears from their short lived pain in the name of glory but laughing anyway as they stitched each other up, letting the Apollo kids deal with those who didn’t have someone to back them up like Y/N and Luke did— someone to dote on them, and someone to dote on in return. But it gets hard, keeping up this fantasy. They’re both far too battle-worn, both with eyes that had seen far too much, faces years older than they were the last time they’d seen each other. And in spite of it all, all she can find herself thinking is,

‘Oh, love, you grew up without me’.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Luke tells her plainly, his brown eyes fighting to focus on her through his tears that he’s fighting to push back. Had they always done that?

“Yet I’m here anyway. Deal.” She responds, brows furrowing, focusing on the wound in his side. Prophecies be damned, she won’t let him die. He sits up straighter, slumped uncomfortably against a marble wall at the sudden pressure to his side, the daughter of Thanatos trying to staunch the blood flow, trying to give him more time, tears clouding her own vision, hands shaking. She knows deep down that it’s all in vain, but she won’t let him go. Not like this. She’ll fight her father back herself, if she had to.

“Y/N…” He whispers uncomfortably, hating how blood spurts past his lips, onto his chin, as he utters her name. He’s going to die, he knows, he can almost feel the fates beginning to prepare to cut his thread, but there’s some things he can’t leave unsaid. “My— my heart, it was always yours. You know that, right?” He notices how she flinches, expression troubled. “Take care of it, for me. I know you’ll do better with it than I ever had.” It’s true— his entire time at camp, since she’d arrived, he’d stupidly ignored it. He let hate and anger and jealousy cloud his mind for so long, he never really appreciated what was in front of him. It was just unfortunate it was taking his death to realize that.

“Don’t— don’t say that, not to me,” she sobs, shaking hands still covering his wound, stupidly, naively, believing she could still save him. “Don’t make it sound like you’re dying. You’re not dying, damn it,” she still sounds determined, one hand leaving his wound to touch his face, holding his cheek, accidentally staining it with his own blood. “Don’t— don’t leave me here, please, I just got you back,” she pleads, glassy eyes blurring with tears. She thinks, honestly, that this is the first time she’s talking to just Luke, free of Kronos’ influence, since he’d stolen that lightning bolt from Olympus years ago. It’s the Luke she remembers, the one she so sorely missed.

He laughed quietly, reaching up to touch her fingers. Even now, as she was sobbing over him, unable to look him in the eye, she’s the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Her lips were so plump — as if made to be kissed, even in this moment of peril. “The gods might not want me, but I’m glad they’ve given you to me,” he whispered, squeezing her hand in his again. “I’m dying, Y/N. You can’t save me.” This makes her squeeze her eyes closed, shaking her head lightly, as if she isn’t listening. She isn’t, not really.

“No, nononono— stop that,” She cries, her eyes squinting shut in an effort to banish her tears, but it doesn’t work. “I’m— I’m the daughter of Thanatos, damn it, what good am I if I can’t do this? If I can’t keep just one person alive?” She seems to be talking mostly to herself, not giving up her mission on keeping him with her. Not after everything that’s been said, not with everything that’s being left unsaid. “I know this isn’t what I do, that I’m not a fucking sunshiney Apollo kid who can heal someone on a whim. But this is kinda my thing, is it not? Just… Just one. Please, let me save just this one. I’ll never ask for anything again.” She’s looking up at the sky— praying, it looked like, while blinking away her own tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she prayed to the gods for anything, but she was now. To anyone who would listen, though Luke gets the sneaking suspicion she’s talking to her father. The one she blamed, for being unable to save anyone. She couldn’t heal, the best she could do was sit by and watch.

Luke laughed again, but it’s humorless— and it was so cruel, to die when he could feel his heartbeat quickening as Y/N was so close, her lips so near to his, her eyes so lovely. He wished he could kiss her right now, in this moment, on the marble floor, with blood running over his fingers and the dagger still next to them.

“Y/N, promise me one thing?”

“Anything,” Y/N nods softly, her attention turning back to him. She hates how the simple act of saying her name still affected her so much, after all this time. Her tears were cutting through the grime on her face from a hard fought battle, covered in her own and the blood of others, trembling. Still, she finds it in her to make a promise to the dying boy she loved. “Anything. Just—“ she drifts off, nodding, knowing they don’t have time. Luke took a breath, his eyes fluttering shut. For the first time in his life, he genuinely felt like a young man. A teenage boy, holding his girlfriend's hand and wanting nothing but her to keep safe. For a moment, he can pretend. But only for a moment. His breath hitched, and slowly, he felt the life fading from his body — as if it was being drawn from him like water in a cup. He hesitates to speak, but knows he’s running out of time. He can feel it, being sapped from his bones. But in spite of that, he’s not… afraid. He isn’t angry. He almost isn’t even in pain. He thinks it’s her, that it’s Y/N’s aura as a daughter of Thanatos, that no one in her vicinity will feel pain, a divine remainder of her father’s power flowing in her veins, the guide to the underworld, before they’d meet the ferryman. A walking shot of morphine. He’s heard stories from his spies, about how when Camp would lose a camper during their fight with Kronos— with him—, Y/N would stay with them until they passed, holding their hand, telling stories, bringing them peace, so they would go out with a kind face. Much like she was doing now, for him. The Thanatos of the waking world, the guiding light to death. It’s much more than he deserves, and he knows it.

"Promise me.... you'll meet me again... at the River Styx," He whispered.

“I’ll find you in Elysium.” She promises softly through sniffles, brushing his hair out of his face, a forced soft smile on her own face. She wants him to go out peacefully, wants to remember her smiling, even if she wants to scream at the sky and cry until she couldn’t breathe anymore. She’d been pretty good at it, feigning calmness and serenity with the campers they lost on their own side. It made their passing easier. But this? With him? She doesn’t know if it does. He’d always been far too good at reading her, for that. “I swear it, on the Styx, that I’ll find you in Elysium.” She sounds sure of herself, that even after everything he’d done, he’d earned a hero’s afterlife. That’s what the prophecy said, after all, right? Somehow, she knows she, too, will find herself with a hero’s death. Life wouldn’t be so kind to allow her to die of old age. She’d die hard, with a sword in her hand, and anger in her heart. Luke's eyes flickered open to meet the softness of hers, of lips he wanted to taste, of skin he wanted to cover with kisses. For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of mourning the future he could’ve had with this girl, if he hadn’t been so hellbent on his never ending quest for glory.

Kleos. The word feels like poison, now. Maybe it always had been.

"No —" He whispered, head shaking lightly, "I won't be in Elysium. I’ll go to Asphodel—" He choked. That's where he'd likely be, being punished for his treason. It’s the least he deserved, after everything he’d done. "— and then the Fields of Punishment. But promise me... that you will wait for me, at the River."

“No,” Y/N shakes her head, adamant. He should probably take her word for it— she’s the daughter of the god of death, after all. She had a sense for these things. “Elysium. I’m sure of it. You’ve earned it.” She promises, tone soft. She doesn’t mention how she’d never let her father live it down if anything else took place. She’d tear Hades apart herself, find his soul and bring him back, somehow. Like Orpheus and Eurydice, except she’d succeed. “Regardless— it doesn’t matter. I’ll always find you. No matter where you are, I’ll find you. I swear it.”

He laughed, and it was a sad one. He was so weak, so very weak, his eyes flickering once more, his hand squeezing hers as tightly as he could, wanting to burn her imprint into his flesh. "You are so stubborn, you know that? You always have been," he whispered. Images flash through his mind against his will— her face, always her face. When she’d learned of his betrayal, then later when he’d attempted to sway her to his side. When they would train together in the arena— camp’s two best swordsmen. When she’d have nightmares, constant images of the dead trying to use her, both for her powers and as revenge on her father, who they felt claimed them from the mortal plane far too soon, to crawl their way back to the world of the living, and how, terrified of closing her eyes again, she’d crawl into his bed with him, the only place she felt safe enough to fall back asleep. When she’d kissed him for the first time, on her seventeenth birthday. Because ‘most demigods don’t get to make it to seventeen, so I’m making seventeen count’, as she’d put it. Then, later that night, after his surprise wore off, when he had kissed her. It pains him to think about how he’d only been manipulating her, back then. Had he loved her? Sure, but his mission always seemed more important at the time. He’d do it for them, he’d told himself. The gods would regret every unclaimed child, and every claimed child resigned to the Hermes cabin because they weren’t born with the luxury of having a parent that had a throne on Olympus, one of the big twelve. For kids like Y/N. His hand slipped from hers, and he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Instead, he'd watch her, as if he could lock her into his memory. "Will you... will you stay here with me, until my life..." He couldn't finish the sentence.

“Until the very end.” She promises softly, her voice cracking with the effort not to cry. She’d almost given up on trying to staunch the bleeding, one hand resting on his face, brushing languidly, lovingly, over his cheek, just around the edge of his scar. She’s not sure what possessed her in that moment, as she leans down, placing a soft, chaste, yet romantic kiss to his lips. After all, he’d been her first kiss, it felt fitting that she would also be his last. As she pulls away, she whispers against his lips, “I love you, Luke Castellan.”

He was breathless, the kiss like a dagger to the chest, biting deeper than the blade that will end up taking his life. In a matter of minutes, his heartbeat would skip its last beat, and her face will be the last he sees, the last thought on his mind. His hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her as he whispered in return, "... I love you too." He managed only that, before his heart failed him. He was gone, and he didn't make a sound.

Gone with a whimper, not a bang.

The blood that fell from his wound was now staining the pristine marble flooring beneath them, the last remnants of life and love, of devotion and betrayal. Y/N hoped that it would stain forever, a constant reminder of his sacrifice.

Y/N felt his final breath fan across her face, and she knew he was gone. Her eyes remained closed, steady tears rolling down her face, their foreheads pressed together. She can feel him growing cold as she sobs. “No,” She whimpers, his hands, now gone limp, still in hers. “No, please no—“ Vaguely, she’s aware of the rumbling of the ground under her feet, a telltale sign of her powers coming out to play, a throng of undead soldiers aching to burst past the earth’s mantle, to await her command. Her face screws up into an expression of anguish, though she forces the feeling down, knowing that if she didn’t reel in her own emotion, her legion of death wouldn’t hesitate to grab every demigod in her vicinity and drag them into the earth, to take their place in the afterlife. Maybe they’d take her, too. Maybe she hoped they would.

The thing about being the daughter of death, was that when a soul left a body and you were near enough to it, you could feel them leaving the mortal plane, accompanied by her father to the underworld. She could feel it, feel him, Luke’s soul leaving his body. She always did, with the campers they lost during the war, but this one hits too close to home. It’s a startling, chilling, terrifying feeling, that only makes her sob harder, knowing the boy she loved was now in her father’s hands, and out of her own. This was always the hardest part. “Take care of him for me, pops,” she whispers, voice trembling, knowing her father was with Luke’s soul right now, the pair watching over her mourning over Luke’s body. As that realization passes over her, she sits up straight, a ragged scream of mourning threatening to tear her vocal cords apart. In the background, she’s vaguely aware of the voice of Percy Jackson speaking,

“We need a shroud. A shroud for the son of Hermes.”

Notes: and with that, we’re done. This was super fun! I feel like I could go on forever about Luke x Grim Reader (I’m calling them deadwings/grimwings), and if there’s enough of a demand, I just might. Feedback is obviously appreciated !! Drink some water, hug a friend, and don’t forget to pirate PJO 🫶

#JAZZ HANDDSS #happy Friday have some soul shattering angst #and for my next trick I’ll disappear into obscurity never to be heard from again #jk #unless???#pjo x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan angst #luke castellan x you #PJO angst #x reader #PJO imagine

346 notes · View notes