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24kmar · 3 days

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 (A. Donaldson)

Part 2 of Thigh to Thigh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Art Donaldson x fem! Reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ MDNI, smut, angst, language, fluff, love confession, happy ending 🩷

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: The aftermath of the argument with tashi.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

𝑰 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒚 𝒎𝒚𝒔𝒆𝒍𝒇 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒀𝒐𝒖, 𝒀𝒐𝒖

The argument you had with tashi has been replaying in your mind. The same question running in circles in your head. "Me or art?". And to add insult to injury, art heard all of it. Was he asking the same question? Him or tashi?

You had been avoiding both of them. Being succesful uptil now. While finishing an english essay you heard a knock at your door. It couldnt have been your roomate. She was at a lecture right now. Getting up and answering the door to your dorm, you were met with art.

Art-" you gasp being cut of as he pushed his way past you, into your dorm. "We need to talk" he breathes out, sitting on your bed. "About what?" You play dumb, crossing your arms nervously. "You know what" art looks at you.

Look y/n, im not asking you to pick me" he rushes the words out like hes been holding them in for ages. Chewing on your lip, you hug yourself. I just need you to know how much you mean to me," he sighs, tears brimming at his waterline. Which causes tears to brim in yours too. "even if we stay friends or dont." "you mean so so much to me." He cries, tears falling down his face. Standing up, he cups your face "I would destroy myself for you" "Art-" "Listen to me-" Art you should leave"

Silence. Pure fucking silence.

Nodding, he opens the door and speaks up before walking out "i love you". That makes you freeze completely, but not without tears rolling down your face.

Flinching as you hear the door shut, you just stand there. Standing there hugging yourself, while sobbing.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝑰 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒏𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏

Its been two days since you last spoke with art. Those two days have been miserable. Downright depressing. You missed him so much. Knowing you hurt such a good person made you hate yourself. Especially hurting someone cause they loved you. Why did you tell him to leave? You didnt want him to leave. You needed him to stay, now more than ever.

You've just been bedrotting, barely eating, missing classes, the whole nine yards. Today, you decided to go to class. Not wanting to mess up your grades. The whole day was draining, dreadful even. Everything reminded you of art. You decided to blow off some steam. Going to play some late night tennis. You were just lazily smacking around the tennis ball.

Thats when you heard footsteps. Turning around, you saw art. With a heavy heart and sweaty palms, you greeted him. "Hi" you said nervously. "Hi" he replied, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "Can we talk?" You asked "Sure" he nodded softly "my dorm or yours?"

His dorm was closer, you didnt want the walk to be long. Far too awkward. The walk was silent, but not awkward silent, calm silent. Like nothing had happend at all.

Now at his dorm. You both sat on his bed. "Im so sorry art" you spoke, tears rushing to your waterline, guilty look in your eyes. Tearing up, art spoke "y/n-"

"I never meant to hurt you-"

"Y/n-" "

"I just didnt kmow what to do-"

Pulling you in to a hug, cutting you off, he spoke "Its okay, y/n, really i understand. It was a tough situation" he sighed, rubbing your back. "You mean so much to me art" you huff out into his neck "i love you" you admit nervously, pulling away from him to look at his face. Searching for emotion. Thats when leaned in and kissed you.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

𝑰𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑰 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖

"I- i love you" art whimpers, cock drilling in and out of you "i love you- soso much."

"Hgh- i love you too. So much" you moan , pulling his hair, legs wraped around his waist as he thrusts into you. Soft yet powerful thrusts, full of love, and adoration.

Art trails a hand down your body to rub your clit. Making your back arch and eyes screw shut, letting out a high pitch moan. It was so much at once, the nips at your neck, the fast yet delicate circles around your clit, the thrusts, the love.

"I need you" he gasps "You have me" you reply, confused.

No, like i need you to-" he cuts himself off with a moan "i need you like you're oxygen" this makes your heart swell and eyes fill with tears. cupping his face, you rest your forhead against his "your mine and im yours, always" you kiss him. And like that you cum together in unison, looking into eachothers eyes, forhead to forhead.

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐕𝐈

𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝑰'𝒅 𝒈𝒐 𝒂 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖

Chest to chest, face to face. You lay in silence, taking in the moment. When art breaks the silence.

" You know i meant every word, right?"

With the confused furrow of you brows he continues "id destroy myself for you" he pauses to interlock your fingers "im in love with you y/n" he admits.

"Im in love with you too art." You admit smiling "i pick you".

Now its his turn to be confused, "what?" He asks confused.

"If its between you or tashi, i pick you art"

With that, you both smile lovingly at eachother

He was family. He would kill for you.

#Spotify #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson smut #challengers #challengers movie #challengers x reader #challengers smut #🪞𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬 🎀#💭𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐜𝐬💭

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camgoloud · 6 months

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who else up feeling the soul-numbing empty hopelessness for absolutely no reason this friday night

#literally nothing bad even happened to me personally today cannot emphasize this enough #i just read one too many of the Wrong wikipedia articles during the period after the sun went down at fucking 4 pm or whatever and then #my brain just decided it was time to replay the biggest hits of the great 2020-2022 depressive episode for fun i guess #and now i’m having. a series of moments. over a series of ridiculous things #again not even specific things that have actually happened to me just the whole vague existential dread deal i guess #truly i haven’t felt this shitty without some kind of direct cause for a year and half at this point #which is having the semi-beneficial side effect of reminding me to appreciate just how good my mental health has been recently #like. remember how i used to just feel like this all the time for. actually most of my life Until a year and a half ago? damn that’s crazy #i hope i snap out of this lmao i really cannot deal with walking into the holidays as a hollow shell of a person #but i think i’ll be fine tomorrow actually pretty sure i’m just kind of sleep deprived after this week #caseyposting

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flwrstqr · 17 days

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enhypen hyung line reaction when you start distancing them

pairings: cold bf!enhypen x fem!reader | genre: fluff, ot7 work, imagines, angst ish| wc: 700+ | warnings: not proofread | an: this is the cutest prompt ever?? also bye why did i write 10x more than i thought. i didn't write all ot7 so sorry anon for that TT, i wrote too much and i thought if i did ot7, it might be a bit overwhelming to read.. may be releasing a maknae line ver soon | LIBRARY FOR MORE... (maknae line)

이희승 (lhs)

heeseung and you were known for having a somewhat fragile relationship. it wasn’t exactly toxic, but there was a noticeable weakness in your bond. whenever you tried to be affectionate, clinging to heeseung's arm and giving him small kisses, he would soon brush you off, saying he had a call to take. as he left the room, you began to wonder if you were being too clingy or obsessed. after all, heeseung was someone you had liked for months. consumed by overthinking, you decided to avoid heeseung. during dinner, as you prepared the food, heeseung noticed your unusual silence. your mouth was shut tight, and you showed no expression. the only words you said to him were, "come, eat." dinner passed in silence, and now it was heeseung’s turn to overthink. did he do something wrong? was he too cold? after dinner, heeseung retreated to his room, sitting in his usual chair and staring at the ceiling, replaying every conversation he had with you. a pang of guilt struck him as his usually cold demeanor began to melt away. hearing you sobbing quietly in your room, he couldn’t ignore it any longer. he walked in and wrapped his arms around you, and you felt his presence beside you. for the first time, he had a small smile on his face. your eyes were swollen from crying, but he gently wiped your tears and apologized for anything he had done to hurt you . ($U#IOEFHKDLFJ:% im tweaking) in that moment, you realized that heeseung did have a soft side, one that he reserved just for you.

rest of members below the cut !

박종성 (pjy)

you always loved comfort in jay’s presence. your friends often teased you about being clingy, but you often brushed it passed you. one day, hidden behind a corner, you overheard him talking to jungwon. “she's so clingy,” jay said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. the words pierced through you, leaving a sting of hurt. From that moment, you distanced yourself, pulling back from jay’s side. jay felt the change, your silence during dinners, messages becoming more dry and sent on delivered, and how you were always in your room. jay realized his mistake. one day as the two of you quietly were walking home, you felt a pair of fingers intertwine with yours. you turn to find jay's hand sneakily touching yours and grasping it. your eyes widened as you see jay's cheeky smile. "i'm sorry." were the two words you hear first. you realize what he meant as you feel tears falling down, embracing him then and realizing how much he actually did love you.

심재윤 (sjy)

being clingy with jake had always felt normal to you until one night when he called you clingy, unintentionally hurting your feelings and creating distance between you. the word stung, leaving you with a broken heart. locking yourself in your room, you cried for hours. it wasn't until jake realized the impact of his words that things began to change. to make it up to you, he tried everything: apologies, letters, and even attempts to talk it out with you. then, one night, you found one of his letters in front of your door, reading each word through your tears. you realized he truly had a soft spot for you. at the end of the letter, it said, "i love you, so please don't be sad, my angel." how could you not fall in love with him all over again?

박성훈(psh)

the evening air is cool against your skin as you walk with sunghoon, his presence a comforting warmth beside you. but as you enter the restaurant, his remark about your clinginess sends a chill down your spine. you bite your lip as you realize what he meant. throughout dinner, the conversation feels forced, the laughter hollow. he realizes how your voice went more and more quiet through out each conversation. your silence speaking for itself. as you walk back, sunghoon stops under a street lamp, his expression softened by the gentle glow. his apology is hesitant, but his eyes speak volumes. "im sorry, i was being mean, i truly think you're a beautiful person."

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fayes-fics · 10 months

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Awakening

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You experience an awakening a few days into your arranged marriage with the Viscount.

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, female masturbation, slightly dom/sub (use of little one/my lord), innocence, corruption kink, vaginal fingering, oral sex (m to f).

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors Note: Unbetaed. Request fill for Anon, HERE, about Anthony being arranged married to an innocent reader. Sorry it's taken me so long to write this, Nonny, but I hope you still enjoy it, even though I changed the parameters of the request slightly. Enjoy <3

Viscount Anthony Bridgerton is most perplexing.

He is all at once both the best and the worst person you know. A providing husband, but an absent one. A polite, undisputable gentleman, but one who has barely said more than a handful of words to you, his supposed wife. An arrangement was brokered with your father, and now, merely weeks later, you are walking the halls of Aubrey Hall as the new Viscountess Bridgerton but barely feel as if you know your husband.

The night before your wedding, you had received a very vague talk from your mother about how you should expect your new husband to enter your bedchamber and perform his “spousal rights” and that, as his wife, you must allow whatever he decides to do. You still have no earthly idea what that might mean; your room has never once yet seen his presence—on that night or, indeed, any of the four nights since. Part of you worries you have somehow failed to be the wife he needs; part of you is relieved he has not done anything to you that you must endure in some way.

There is one thing you are certain of, though. While Anthony may be distant, almost an absence from your life, always busy with some business or other, there is no doubt you find his countenance pleasing. He is so very dashing and handsome. Earlier today, he swept in from a hunt wearing very tight tan breeches, and the sight caused a funny, warm tingling low in your gut. Between your legs, really. He nodded politely as he swept past you in the hallway, continuing his discussion with his brother as he did so. You twist to watch his retreating figure, wishing you could have the opportunity to speak with him, but the view of his shapely bottom in those tight trousers is at least partial compensation.

So as you lay under the covers on your fifth night alone, your ladies' maids having brushed your hair and taken their leave, you sigh deeply and snuggle into the crispy white sheets. Your thoughts turn to your husband again and that outfit he was wearing. The way those trousers clung to him, the movement of muscle as he strode purposefully. And that sensation rears again—the pulsing between your legs. It seems like your body needs something, but you do not know what. Flushed for some reason, you push away the covers. Before you know it, curiosity has the better of you. While you replay the image of him walking in your mind, your legs fall apart, your hand reflexively falling between them to provide a remedy—almost like an itch you need to scratch.

Your fingers slide through folds of flesh there, and strangely, there is unfamiliar sticky dampness. When you pass your fingers over a particular spot where your two lips meet, you get a pleasurable spike that makes your mouth slack.

Oh.

Almost without meaning to, you keep touching that spot, a call and response that is impossible to resist. The more you rub right there, your body swelling slightly under your movements, the better you feel. A languid buzz in your brain that feels both stimulating and relaxing. When your husband's image pops into your head again, everything suddenly gets sharper and more urgent. And so you do. You think of him. His handsome face, the way his forearms flex when you sit across from him at dinner, and he eats with his sleeves rolled up and again those legs and bottom in those tight trousers. Tumbling images that speed up in your mind as your fingers do the same, powerless to resist.

You are soon gasping and writhing, yet you do not stop; it feels too good. Something almost violent happens in your body, your lungs restricting, your brain buzzing, and suddenly, with a crest of physical delight, you are experiencing something completely novel. There is a squeezing, rippling inside, and you cry out as a remarkable ecstasy takes your body. When eventually the feeling subsides, you collapse back down, panting and bewildered; your whole body flushed, your fingers, still resting between your legs, wettened with a slick substance that could only have come from within you.

Whatever just happened, it's nothing you have been told about before. Not fully understanding, all you know is you want to experience it again. It's addictive, powerful, and so very relaxing once over. You instantly fall into a deep, sated slumber and wake up the most refreshed you have felt in many months.

And so it becomes a habit.

Whenever you feel the need and have a private moment, you retire to your room and touch your body until you feel that pinnacle—often thinking upon the Viscount as you do so. His name even falls from your lips, breathy, almost a tasty morsel, as you find your peak. It is no longer something you only do when you retire to bed for the night. You find yourself doing so any time of day, whenever the mood strikes you, an addictive, fun, illicit thrill. You wonder idly if such a thing is taboo, but you struggle to believe something that feels so good could ever be unacceptable behaviour as long as you are in private, alone.

One week after your wedding, on an uneventful afternoon, you put down your needlework and huff a sigh, your eyes drawn by movement outside. There, riding towards the house at speed across the lawn is Anthony. It's a sunny summer day; he wears only a shirt billowing in the breeze with sleeves pushed up around his elbows. And again, those tan breeches flexing around his legs as the horse gallops, him moving with the beast in a rhythmic motion. Time seems to stand still as you are inexorably drawn to the window to watch the sight coming closer and closer. The whole time your breath becomes more rapid, that telltale throbbing between your legs flares. You decide there is only one course of action.

When he veers off to the left towards the stables to the side of the house, you turn heel and run up the stairs. Keen to have that incredible high. This new, enthralling image will be the star of your thoughts this time. You pass his valet on the stairs and politely nod before scurrying and closing your bedroom door behind you.

You drop your underwear onto the floor, hitching up your dress and chemise around your hips as you throw yourself onto your bed, not even bothering to pull back the bedspread, so very keen to touch yourself.

It doesn't take much, that familiar slick already there, painting your fingers as you slide them against your nub, one hand reaching behind to grasp the headboard as you writhe on your fingers, all thoughts of Anthony and that repetitive bouncing motion of him upon his steed. So wrapped up in pleasure, his name on your lips, you do not hear the knob turning and the door opening.

“My valet told me you were here….” his loud baritone voice rings out around the room but grinds to a halt mid-sentence.

You squeal in surprise; the star of your fantasies standing right before you, skin sunkissed and his hair tousled from his ride, a look of utter shock painting his face.

Instinctively, you clamp your knees together and attempt to push down your dress, but it’s too little, too late. He has seen exactly what you were doing, and now he looks distressed, hIs breathing uneven.

“Did you…. Did you say my name?” The tone is not one you have heard from him before, rough but straining.

You sit up slightly and avert your gaze downwards, abashed he has interrupted your private moment.

“Yes,” you confess quietly.

He takes a hesitant step forward towards the bed and swallows heavily.

“You were touching yourself? And... and saying my name?” he looks almost winded.

“Yes,” again, it's soft, and you chew your lower lip, thinking perhaps you are about to be chastised. He certainly looks very… agitated.

“Do you know what you are doing to yourself?” he blurts out, a vein in his forehead prominent as he locks his jaw.

“Not really,” you admit, “only that when I think of you, I get an ache between my legs, and it feels wonderful when I touch it.”

He makes a strangled noise and closes his eyes, his head tipping back slightly.

“I… I did not expect to consummate yet,” he mutters heavily, “I thought I had more time.” He seems to be talking to himself as much as you.

“What does that mean? Consummate?” you inquire, your mother's words coming to the forefront. Perhaps this is what she was referring to.

“As your husband, I have perhaps been neglectful of my spousal duties,” he says slowly, his head tipping back down to look at you, his eyes intense.

“Duties?” you frown.

“What you were doing to yourself…” he begins, moving closer now so he stands by the bed, “it is because you desire me. I had not considered that may be the case.” He twists his mouth into a thoughtful pout, but you do not miss how he seems to stare at your breasts as they rise and fall inside your stays. “But now that I know it is true… it… changes things.”

“How?” you look up at him, wanting to understand.

A smirk tugs at the left corner of his mouth. “It means there are things I can teach you, things you should know that can happen between a man and a woman. Things you will find pleasurable, just like when you touch yourself. It is my responsibility, as your husband, to show you such things now.” His hand reaches out, and you inhale sharply as it lands upon your raised knee.

“You make it sound more like an obligation than something you want to do,” you respond, voice wavering at the distraction his hand is causing, the viscous throbbing between your legs even heavier now.

“Oh, nothing could be further from the truth; I want to, now that I know you desire it too.” His voice is a soft thrum that makes your nipples peak and a shiver run down your spine.

“Why have you not come to me before, husband?” it sounds breathy even to your ears.

“I thought you disliked me. That this was an arrangement you were enduring. That I should be polite and respectful. Keep my distance, at the least, until you adjust to your new life as Viscountess. Until an heir is needed. But now I know that is not the case…”

His voice is a pleasant low rumble as his hand starts to move, slightly calloused fingertips skirting the soft skin of your inner thigh, your dress and chemise bunching around his toned forearm as he does so.

“What are you…?” your breath quickening now.

“Shhhh, Viscountess, let me help you,” he hushes, and you stare at him with wide eyes as his warm fingers reach your folds. He hisses at the heat and wetness he finds there. “Oh, you really do like me,” he purrs, and something in you makes you lean slowly back onto the padded plush headboard, unable to look away from his face.

“Yes…” you whimper as his thumb, much broader than yours, makes a sideways swipe over your swollen nub.

“How often?” he murmurs, shifting to take a seat on the bed next to you, his thumb never wavering in its slow, intoxicating rhythm,

“How often wh-what?” You stutter, rapidly losing the ability to form words as your body riots, grasping the bedspread on either side of you, scarcely believing how amazing it feels when someone else touches you, especially him.

“How often do you touch yourself and think of me?” his voice gravelly.

“Everyday… so-sometimes m-more than once,” you pant out, your lips tingling, holding his fiery gaze.

“Oh, you naughty little thing,” he growls, and it sets your face aflame. “Touching yourself multiple times a day and thinking of me. Do you reach a peak every time?”

“Y-yes, my lord….”

His eyes flash; he leans in closer so you can smell spiced cologne and traces of his natural body scent, heightened from his riding exertions.

“Please call me that when I'm touching you,” he asks, but it almost sounds like an order, one you are happy to obey.

“Yes, my lord,” you respond instantly.

“Good little one,” he compliments, and the praise makes something bloom inside you, an urgent want to please him.

He changes his thumb’s motion to a circular pattern and presses more insistently. You gasp loud, glancing down at the slight of his toned arm flexing as he moves, his fingers obscured by your dress rucked up around his wrist.

“Tell me, have you put your fingers inside yourself?” his tone still velvety.

“No? What do you mean? I just,” you pause to whimper, “do as you are right now.”

His face turns into a handsome smirk you can't look away from.

“Would you like to find out how it feels to have someone inside your body, little one?” The question is molten, and you swear your entire skin feels too heated and tight.

You just nod, snagging your lower lip with your tooth, and then your eyes bulge as a finger slips lower and presses into a fleshy barrier that resists his touch.

“I can feel you are still intact, a chaste maiden indeed,” he rumbles, and part of you wonders what that means, but you do not ask. “Luckily, there is just enough of an opening for me to do this…”

You moan as a single finger pushes a fraction into your body, something completely novel and profound. You stare at him open-mouthed

“Oh, my dear little thing, I have barely even put the tip of my finger inside and look at you. Wait until it's my cock,” he warns darkly.

“Your what?”

He grabs your hand off the bedding and guides it to the junction of his thighs. Something is hot and hard under there, and you cannot hide your shock even as your hand curls around it and squeezes instinctually.

He growls. “That’s it, feel it. My cock is going to go inside you, right here….” he lectures, and his finger that was teasing pushes deeper into your pussy, aided by the pool of wetness leaking from within.

Again you moan at the invasion, and he looks so proud, pumping the digit slowly as his thumb restarts its movements on your clit.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim in a harsh whisper, the feeling so utterly mindblowing.

“No, your lord,” he corrects, preening from what he can do to your body.

“My l-lord….” you amend stutteringly.

He nods his approval and leans over you, his breath warm on your face as he observes your expressions, gauging your response to each move he makes. It's so overwhelming that he is touching you inside and outside your body.

You are rapidly losing the ability to do anything besides make noises and chase sensation; your knees falling further apart, your hand still on his cock, pressing unconsciously with the same rhythm his fingers play your body. He glances down at his lap, his other hand moving from its grip on your wrist to cover yours, his hips tilting a fraction, pressing more insistently into your palm.

“Would you like to come right now?” his breath almost as ragged as yours.

“W-what is that?” you stumble.

He huffs a bemused sound. “When you reach your peak, little one. It is called coming.”

“Yes, please, my lord,” you answer the instant you understand, spiralling fast now, your lungs heaving, your slit hot and slippery, where he teases you.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, and you obey instantly.

He gently removes your hand from his cock, and his fingers slip out of your body. You sense movement on the bed, and he manhandles your feet outwards and upwards towards your hips. Cotton brushing the back of your thighs, and a wave of warm air across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now. A few seconds later, you feel something entirely new— a wet, hot, thick mass sliding through your folds unlike anything else. Your eyes fly open, and you startle to see that Anthony has crawled between your legs and his head is now buried at the apex of your thighs. Then you cry out as he does the same thing again, realising he is using his tongue.

“What the….?” you can't even complete the sentence.

“It is not just my fingers I can use, little one,” he tutors, his tone dusky, his breath hot on the patch of hair between your legs as he pulls up slightly to talk, his eyes burning into yours.

You watch, mesmerised, as he flattens his tongue wide and lowers his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, morphing into a spear as he maps your clit, swirling around all sides. It's so intense your channel flutters, wishing his fingers were still inside you.

“Yes, that is it, you like that, do you not? Come on,” he coaxes as he takes a deep breath, inhaling your body scent. The way he is handling you, so absorbed in you, a euphoric feeling burns behind your ribs at the idea he wants your pleasure.

He envelopes your clitoral hood and sucks hard. His eyes flashing with pride as he has to grab your hips and hold you down, your back arching off the bed, crying out without caring if anyone can hear. The way he growls as you do so tells you exactly how much he wants to hear it, his pride that he can do this to you.

Something primal washes over you as he bites gently on your swollen clit, holding it between his teeth as you feel two fingers at your entrance pushing in, making you cry as you stretch around him, your body accommodating them even as you feel so filled.

“Anthony… Anthony, my lord,” you chant repeatedly as he holds you down with one strong arm and rocks his fingers shallowly into your body, his tongue swirling. It’s a sight that you can’t look away from. His hips flex into the bed almost involuntarily, as if his cock needs friction, too.

You feel that tide rising somehow more potent when orchestrated by him, a white-hot burning where he plays you and a tension in all your muscles.

“Give it to me,” he snarls, muffled, feeling the ripples around your clit and pussy against his face and fingers.

He redoubles his efforts, almost mercilessly lashing you with his tongue, varying pressure and speed. Entirely without meaning to, your hands fly into his hair, loving the sensation of thick curls sinking between your fingers as you grasp his strands, making him cry out right into your body. And it’s precisely what you need.

Every fibre of your being held taut and shaking now snaps, the pressure inside you like a dam breaking, so much more intense than you have ever experienced from just your fingers. Something almost inexplicable, ephemeral, your body experiencing a hundred different things firing at once. Your world contracting and exploding. You can feel your own heartbeat in your extremities, a rush of blood in your ears, eyes screwed shut as you shudder under him, and yet he moves with you as your hips roll in waves, his mouth never leaving your body. You know you are leaking onto his face, your inside clenching powerfully around his fingers. Dimly, you are aware the noises you make are loud, but you find yourself unable to prevent it and don't even want to.

As you recover, he crawls over your prone body as you lay there panting, fundamentally changed in the sharing of this experience with him, of him to be the one to make your body reach its peak. A true awakening of your senses.

It’s then he kisses you for the first time since a cursory brush of lips at the altar on your wedding day. His face musky with your juices, his lips hot, soft and damp as they press to yours. This is so different to that kiss. It's lingering and hot, his lips plush on yours.

His handsome face breaks into a dazzling smile as he looms over you, the back of his hand gently brushing down your cheekbone as you stare up at him dazed, the taste of yourself seeping through your lips. “Rest for now, my dear wife.” His tone is softer now, the use of wife instead of little one making your breath catch. “I shall return tonight, and you shall become a woman,” his voice laden with untold promise.

Anthony taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @bridgertontess @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @debheart @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23

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filynxs · 24 days

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౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ Pheromones.

art by @innaillus

⚝ Sukuna is your boyfriend and has asked you out on a date. Or rather - he forced you to go out with him. He knew you were busy, but he insisted on going out with you. After all, you haven't had many opportunities to go out because of your work. And because of this, you decide to surprise him with a new perfume. This perfume contains something that will drive him crazy.

⚝ Sukuna x fem!reader

⚝ 18+; sexual content; use of pheromone perfumes; needy and rough f*replay; smelling and licking

» [Gangsta - Kehlani] «

0:00 ─〇───── 0:00

⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

"You‘re gorgeous."

You step out of the car that brought you to the restaurant Sukuna has invited you to. He sent a driver to pick you up, so you can clearly see that he longed for this date. After all, you two haven‘t been on a date for a long, long time.

He helps you get out of the car by taking your hand into his, and he doesn‘t try to hide his hungry gaze that is wandering over your beautiful body. And that tight, red dress you‘re wearing emphasizes every single curve of it. It also makes it hard for him to not just tear it off your body right now.

"Did you choose that dress on purpose?" he asks you by purring into your ear, pulling you close as he puts his arm around your waist. He asks you this question because this dress is the dress you wore on the same evening on which you two had sex for the first time. This dress has driven him so crazy that night, and it has the same effect on him now, too. After all, the deep v neck line gives him a perfect view of your cleavage, and due to the corset of this dress, your breasts are pressed together. Another beautiful detail is the slit that is on the right side of the dress. It reaches up to your thigh, exposing very much of your leg, but still not enough for him.

Running his tongue over his lower lip, he pulls back to look into your eyes. His irises shine in a ruby color. The color that seduced you on the day you first met.

"Maybe." you chuckle, shrugging your shoulders, "How do you like my perfume, though? It‘s brand new."

Leaning closer to your neck once again, he takes a deep breath, inhaling your intoxicating scent that blurs his mind. His eyes roll back, and he can‘t help but let out a soft groan that shows the lust he feels for you.

"You make it difficult for me to resist you, baby." he growls into your ear, pushing your hair aside to continue on smelling on your neck. Gently, he flicks his tongue over the sensitive skin of your neck, and a drop of saliva rolls down the corner of his mouth. It‘s like you are the dessert he wants to devour, even though he didn‘t have his meal yet.

You let out a deep sigh at his actions, but to tease him, you push him a bit away.

"Now, now, why don‘t we go into the restaurant first? Our date has just started, after all." you chuckle, feeling how your cheeks heat up at the increasing intimacy between the two of you.

As you look at him, you bite your lip while waiting for his reaction. But he only stares at you for a moment, his expression neutral again. However, you can see a faint blush on his cheeks.

But then, when realization hits him, a wide grin spreads over his lips that expose his fangs.

"You‘re wearing a pheromone perfume, aren‘t you?" he questions you, putting both of his arms around your hips now. "Aren‘t you?" he repeats, pulling you closer. His voice is so husky that it vibrates in his throat.

"I don‘t know what you mean." you decide to tease him, but you can‘t hide the sly smile that‘s on your red lips.

His hands move down to your butt, which he squeezes roughly. He chuckles, leaning close to your ear to gently bite your lobe.

"Oh and how you do. What a bad girl," he snickers into your ear, and your entire body heats up at this playful moment between you. Giving your earlobe another light bite, he tugs on your dress, eager to rip it off your body. "I think we should skip the dinner."

Running your tongue over your lower lip, you tilt your head in a playful manner, while your eyes find his reddish-glowing gaze. The way how his irises are darkening with lust is sending a shiver down your spine. It looks like his pupils are dilating, almost covering the entire orb of his eye.

"That would be disappointing, wouldn‘t it? Why don‘t we get inside?" you offer, and without letting him answer you, you take his hand and guide him into the entrance of the noble restaurant he has invited you to.

The light of the large chandeliers shine down on you, illuminating the hall which is adorned with expensive-looking furniture. Its atmosphere is filled with exquisite beauty and details that make you feel like you‘re standing inside a large castle.

A polite waiter brings you to your reserved table, which is located in a quiet, cozy corner. It doesn‘t take long for you to order the best wine on the card, which arrives on your table within just a couple of minutes.

"It‘s beautiful here." you mutter in awe, gazing around the place with amazement plastered across your face. Sukuna doesn‘t answer, thus you look at him only to see that he has been staring at you the entire time. You can feel his masculine hand touching your thigh, while he rests his chin on his palm.

Mesmerized by your looks and intoxicating scent, he keeps a faint grin on his lips while continuously gazing at you. He can‘t help it. After all, a gorgeous woman like you is definitely driving his thoughts wild. Especially with that teasing perfume of yours.

It‘s not a lie that his cock is throbbing in his tight trousers right now.

You shift in your seat. Even though you are the one who wanted to tease him tonight, you can‘t help but feel affected by his touches. The way how his hand squeezes your thigh and moves upwards your leg sends electricity through your body, and causes your cheeks to heat up.

Gulping, you brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. Again, you move on your seat; out of nervousness, which is tinted with a hint of arousal. The way how your clit rubs against the chair‘s edge through your thin strings is driving you crazy, and you are having a hard time holding yourself back. Because you would want to keep on going, rubbing yourself against the chair until it would make you come in ecstasy.

And he knows that.

"My, my," he purrs, and his hand stops at your inner thigh, "what are you trying to do, gorgeous?"

He leans closer, inhaling your scent that lies in the steamy air between you two. His eyes roll back as your smell penetrates his nostrils, making him even hungrier for you than he already is.

"Nothing," you merely breathe out a stutter, sitting on the edge of your chair. Your swollen clit pounds against the wooden seat, and a searing fire builds up inside your core.

His grip around your thigh becomes tighter, rough even, and his nails dig into your skin. With his free hand, he pulls something out of his pocket, however, you can‘t catch sight of what it is.

"Tell me," he pauses with a heavy breath, pressing something cold against your clad entrance, "what are you trying to do?"

You bite your lower lip, tasting the flavor of iron on your tongue as your teeth penetrate the soft skin. Soft, hoarse breaths escape you when you speak to him.

"I‘m trying to," you pant, "come."

Clicking his tongue in response, he flashes you a grin as he pulls your strings to the side, making space for what he has in store for you. The cold object touches your slick folds again, and without a warning, he thrusts it into you. Your entire body tenses up, and you have to hold back a moan.

"That was easy," he snickers, licking his lips. "You‘re so wet."

Exhaling a snort, you let your lips twitch up into a small grin, and your hips move slowly, "You‘re the one to talk." Your chest moves up and down with every breath you take, and you catch his eyes darting down to your cleavage, which is emphasized by your tight dress, "I can see how hard you have gotten."

Your searing gaze lays down on his crotch, and his hard bulge is clearly visible through his tight trousers. It‘s rubbing against his cock, causing his hips to tense up.

"Don‘t try to speak up to me," he warns you with a challenging smirk on his glossy lips, pressing a button on the remote he is holding in his trouser‘s pocket. And without letting a second pass, the remote turns the vibrator on, which is lying deep inside you, causing you to flinch in surprise.

A soft moan escapes you, and small tears form in the corners of your eyes as lust overcomes you. Your heart is pumping the arousal through your veins, and you seem like the feeling is taking you over. You don‘t even care about your surroundings anymore, which slowly fade away while you dive into the feeling of pleasure.

Your hips move in circling movements, as if you‘re trying to ride the vibrator that is buzzing against your slick walls. You move your hand down to your crotch, however, he grabs your wrist without a warning, and prevents you from touching yourself.

"Not yet," he growls with a low voice, and a frown forms on your forehead, showing the desperation you feel. The heat is growing inside you, and you are eager to release the pressure that is building up inside your stomach.

"Why don‘t we go somewhere else," you breathe hoarsely, "please?"

He leans towards you, letting his lips hover just above yours. You can feel his hot breath on your skin, and his scent penetrates your nostrils.

"What‘s the fun in that?" he whispers against your lips, placing a tender, sensual kiss on them. "I don‘t care if someone notices our little play."

A soft moan of delight escapes you as the vibrations inside you increase, and your thighs shake in eagerness. You can feel your approaching climax, which is noticeable on your flushed face.

Sukuna takes the sight of your arousal in, and decides to spread your legs even wider, pushing his knee between them.

Little do the guests of the restaurant know what is going on below that table of yours…

"Are you going to come for me?" he snickers, pressing his knee against your clit. You rub yourself against it, as if being controlled by an animalistic instinct. "Show me the satisfaction you feel."

Your back arches like the one of a cat, and you bite your lower lip to hide the grunt that is escaping your red lips. A wave of pleasure washes over you, and your entire body shudders as your sweet nectar squirts out of you. You press your knees together, embracing his leg which is staying between yours.

There are not enough words to describe this satisfying sensation, but you can feel the searing warmth that spreads in your muscles. Electricity causes every tiny spot of your body to tense up and be covered in goosebumps.

"Yeah," he breathes, his brows furrowing together ever so slightly, "yeah, just like that."

He doesn‘t let you rest, keeping the vibrator turned on the entire time. When he stands up, he pulls you along with him to the restrooms. A spot in which you two can live out your fantasies in privacy.

Getting into the noble-looking restroom, he locks the door after you enter, and presses you up against a wall.

Pants escape your mouth, and it takes you a while to react to what he is doing to you. However, your mind is being blurred so heavily that there is nothing you can do except moaning his name out loud.

His hand finds its way around your neck, while his other one squeezes your breast through your tight dress. Your hardened nipples are entirely visible below the thin fabric, and when he touches them, a pleasant shiver runs down your spine.

"Y/N," he groans, leaning down to your neck to lick your soft skin, "you are driving me insane with that intoxicating scent." His tongue flicks across your favorite spots, until he begins to use his teeth to gently bite you. "I want to eat you up."

The tone of his voice laces need, roaring in his throat with raspiness. It vibrates against your neck, sending a tingly feeling through your delicate skin. You can feel him inhale your scent, as if smoking you like a cigarette. He is not getting enough of you, and you can tell that by the way he is pressing his bulge against your hot crotch.

Because of his actions and the vibrator that is still inside you, you are close to reaching your climax once again. But then, he turns it off.

"I don‘t want that thing to do all the work," he chuckles, sucking on your skin. "I‘m going to play with you now."

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pinkflower2003 · 12 days

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Hii could u do a MV1 x reader fic where Max and the reader were in a serious longterm relationship but broke up bc he wanted kids and she didn’t,, and a few months later he’s dating Kelly and is being a girldad to P when he bumps into the reader again and realises he’s not over her 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ LOOOOL I hope this request makes sense!!

Loss Of My Life - Max Verstappen x Reader

Based on – “The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived”, “Loml” – Taylor Swift

Hi!! Thank you so much for your submission! So I wanted to change it a little bit, hope that’s okay!! So I’ve changed it so that it was the reader who wanted kids and Max didn’t, the reader is also a singer In this one (almost like how big Taylor Swift is, imagine her like that sort of star!) Idk if you have people performing at races but just imagine you do lol.

based off of this TikTok video

send in your submissions!<3

Word count : 2.3k

You and Max had been together for 6 years, 6 long years that made you think you were going to be together forever, he had been there through everything with you. You had both been together at the start of your careers and the height of your careers, and it was amazing to see how far the two of you could go. You had a very successful career in the music industry, bringing out albums that each became the highest-selling albums of the year and Max had a very successful career as a Formula One driver, winning world championships. But after 6 years, you had decided that maybe it was time for something more, you loved touring, singing your music, meeting fans, traveling around the world, but you wanted something more, you wanted a life with Max.

Deciding it was finally time to tell Max how you were feeling, you had sat down with him in his Monaco apartment whilst you had some time off from touring to write some new songs for a new album. Sitting down for food, you had decided there was no better time, “how do you feel about having children?”

Max hadn’t looked up from his food, just shrugging. “Don’t feel anything about them, I don’t want them.” He had replied bluntly, and your shoulders sank. You and Max had talked about children before, of course, you had, you can’t be in such a long-term relationship and not talk about what you both want in the future, but when you had brought it up before, Max had just replied with, “maybe one day, when we’re older and have achieved what we’ve wanted” and that was an okay answer at the time, at the height of your careers you had wanted to achieve more, but now you’d done it.

You’d become the best-selling artist of the decade, sold millions of albums, done a multimillion-dollar tour, travelled the world, you had done it all, and now seemed like the right time for the both of you to have this discussion. But clearly, Max had felt different.

“Max, I want a baby, I want to settle down with you, you’re my everything. We’ve been together 6 years, there’s got to be a point where you want that too, right?” You had pleaded with him, to make him show that he wanted that with you, that it wasn’t all a waste of time being together for so long.

Max had got frustrated, standing up, pacing around, not understanding how you didn’t understand that he was still at the height of his career, and settling down would only set him back. “I’m winning world championships Y/N, I can’t have kids doing that, my attention is on my career, not kids.” You had sat there, shoulders sagged, not saying anything, letting Max carry on telling you just exactly why he wouldn’t have kids with you. You just sat there, knowing that this was it, Max had chosen his career over you.

You had moved out of Max’s Monaco apartment, you had focused back on your career, you had left Max, or more like he had left you. After your conversation, you had understood where Max’s priorities were, and he had made it clear that it was not you. So, you had both left, you had cried for days, the last 6 years replaying in your mind over and over again. You remembered going to the races all around the world, each time you had gone, you had practically been treated like royalty, everyone from the engineers, the team principals, the drivers, and the fans, all wanting to meet you, wanting a photo with you, to shake your hand. But none of that had mattered, because all you wanted to do was to be with Max, and you had been, you had been the first one to run up to him when he won any race, he had kissed you with such force you had forgotten there was anyone around you, you had both forgotten you were both in the public eye with reputations to uphold, none of that had mattered.

Now, all of that was gone, everywhere you went you were asked questions about Max; what had happened? Were you now going to bring out a break-up album? Had Max cheated on you? So many ridiculous questions that you completely ignored. You had blocked it out, wanting to move on, but having an ex as big as Max Verstappen, you would never get away from his name.

Not long after you had gotten a call from one of yours and Max’s friends, Daniel, an old teammate and friend of Max who you had become close with throughout your relationship with Max. Daniel was one of your closest friends, and the split between you and Max had put tension on your friendship, Daniel knew if he had taken sides with you, the tension on the grid would be at an all-time high, and you couldn’t have that happen with Daniel, and so you had kept your distance between yourself and all of yours and Max’s mutual F1 friends.

But Daniel was the first one to call, and you had answered. “Y/N, hey, I’m sorry for not calling earlier, but everyone here misses you, you must know that. Why don’t you come to the next race, as my guest, of course, just to see everyone, you won’t have to see Max if you’re at my team paddock area, I promise, I know how much you loved the races.”

After giving it some thought and telling him that you would consider it, you received a second call asking you to perform at the race. You decided to accept and would perform some of your new songs there before going to stay with Daniel until he had to leave to go race.

And now, today was the day, anxiety was coursing through your blood as you stood at the back of the stage, waiting for your queue to go on. You had seen the news stories, the gossip that Max had gotten a new girlfriend, just months after your split. You couldn’t do that, your new boyfriend was your songs, they had helped you get your emotions out about the split, they had been your healer, instead, Max had found his healing in a new woman.

“And I don't even want you back, I just want to know

If rusting my sparkling summer was the goal

And I don't miss what we had, but could someone give

A message to the smallest man who ever lived?

Were you sent by someone who wanted me dead?

Did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?”

Singing a song that everyone knew was about Max was dangerous, but you had made the decision to do it nevertheless. You thought that if he was going to start dating someone else so soon after you, you should express your feelings, and you should do it somewhere where most people knew him.

“Were you writing a book? Were you a sleeper cell spy?

In fifty years, will all this be declassified?

And you'll confess why you did it

And I'll say, "Good riddance"

'Cause it wasn't sexy once it wasn't forbidden

I would've died for your sins

Instead, I just died inside

And you deserve prison, but you won't get time”

As you marched down the platform, your dancers trailed after you in the style of a marching band. You turned to face the audience and noticed the racers and their families cheering you on, and then you noticed him. You could see him well; he was staring at you. You sang the song's lyrics with all of your intensity, making eye contact with him even if you didn't want to.

With his arm over her shoulders, a woman who you could have assumed was his new girlfriend was standing next to him. She definitely was a lover of the song and sang along with it, but she didn't seem to care that you were singing about her boyfriend at the time. However, she was holding a small child in her arms who was waving and yelling your name. As you performed, your heart fell; his girlfriend had a child? Reluctant to reveal that it had knocked you, you waved to the little girl. The young girl screamed and jumped, screaming that you had waved at her. She then rushed out and grabbed Max, who smiled at her before turning to face you again while wearing a guilty expression.

Walking off the stage, you took your earpieces out, taking water from one of the workers next to you, thanking them. Daniel had been waiting for you behind the stage, with a sad look on his face, as he began walking next to you as you rushed to your backstage area to get changed into different clothes before the race started. “You never told me his new girlfriend had a kid, Dan.”

Daniel just nodded, trying to keep up with you and your security. “I knew it would upset you, Y/N, I knew how much you wanted kids with Max, I didn’t know how to tell you.”

You stood still, the rest of your team standing still with you, not knowing what to do. You had turned to them, “can you just give us a minute?” The team nodded, standing away, but still needing to be close.

Daniel stood opposite you, “how can he do that Dan? Six years and for what? Now he’s a stepdad all of a sudden and he’s fine with it? We broke up because he didn’t want children, but clearly what he meant was he didn’t want children with me.”

Dan was about to reply, but your name was screamed as you turned your head to where the voice had come from. It was the same little girl you had waved to when you performed, the same little girl who had jumped into Max’s arms when you had done so, the same one who had wrapped her hands around his neck as he bounced her up and down along to the music.

“Y/N! Y/N” She had ran over to you, wearing a shirt with your album on. You knelt down to her, changing expressions from the one you had worn with Daniel, to now your stage expression, a façade you knew all too well.

Kneeling to her height, she hugged you, her reaction like many of the fans you met. “Hi, what’s your name?” You had asked her, but she still jumped up and down. Behind her, Max’s girlfriend smiled and took photos of you and the little girl.

“Penelope, but mummy and Maxie call me P.” You swallowed at the mention of Max, fighting back tears knowing the little girl now had a nickname for him. “That’s a beautiful name, Penelope, you look beautiful.” The little girl giggled, and you stood back up, making eye contact with her mother, Max’s new girlfriend.

The woman held out her hand, smiling at you. “Hi, I’m Kelly, I’m a huge fan.” You shook her hand, smiling slightly, not knowing what to say to the woman who now had everything you had wanted.

“Nice to meet you,” you smiled, looking at Daniel who just looked anywhere else but the scene before him, unable to cope with the awkwardness of the interaction. Kelly had turned her head, seeing Max in the distance, waving him over. “Babe, come and see, P just met Y/N.”

Max had looked over at you all, breathing heavily as he looked at your face, whilst you just looked at Daniel, who had wide eyes. “I’m really sorry, I-I’ve got to go.” You began walking away, rather quickly that almost looked like running. Your team was unsure of what to do as you tried to get away from Max.

“Y/N!” You heard you name called as you got as far away as you could, you knew the voice from anywhere and you spun around, anger now coursing through your veins. “What Max? Go and play happy little families with Kelly, since clearly you’ve had a complete change of heart and you’re now ready to be a dad.” You scoffed, but he grabbed your arm as you went to walk away again.

“It’s not what you think,” he tried to tell you, but your voice became choked up. “Right, it isn’t the fact that just months after ending our six-year relationship due to YOU not wanting children with you, you find someone else. And you didn’t just find someone else, you found someone else where you have to step up and become a father figure.” You told him, “I wish you all the best with your new family Max, I really do.”

Max took off the baseball cap off his head that he was wearing, pushing a hand through his hair. “I never wanted this, Y/N, I’m sorry. If I could take it all back, I would. I would never of said what I said to you, I would take everything back, just to be with you again, you were my everything and you still are.”

You couldn’t breathe, he had practically still professed his love for you still, whilst still being with Kelly. “You lost that chance, Max. I wanted you, all of you, all the good, all the bad. But you didn’t want me, and you lost me.”

“I want you back. No matter what you think I have with Kelly, I don’t, I will never have with anyone what I had with you. I have no excuse that it took all of this to make me realise, but I’m still human, and human make mistakes, and I made the mistake of loosing you, because of my selfishness.” Max practically pleaded with you, but you just shook your head.

“We almost had it all.”

“And I'll still see it until I die

You're the loss of my life”

#formula one imagine #f1 smut #f1 imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #taylor swift #formula 1 #formula one x reader #angst #mv1 #mv1 x reader #max verstappen smut #f1 x reader #the smallest man who ever lived

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chalkscene · 7 months

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tears of themis ⇢ YOU DECIDE TO SLEEP ON THE COUCH AFTER AN ARGUMENT

ft. luke pearce, artem wing, marius von hagen & vyn richter

you’re shifting restlessly on the couch when you catch your LUKE alarm keychain—handmade by luke himself—peeking from behind the armrest, “luke says he’s sorry.” you can’t help but smile at the sound of luke faking a small voice and whatever rage that filled you from your argument hours ago has now dissipated, endeared by the sweet gesture. “you’re gonna set off that alarm by accident,” you quip, the lightness in your tone encouraging luke to come into view. “you’re not mad anymore?” he asks, cautious yet hopeful. all his years of training and building a hard exterior to be a detective have nothing on you because in the warmth behind his hazel eyes that only you can bring out, you still find the boy you grew up with. the boy you’ve always loved. “i can’t stay mad at you,” you admit, on the brink of tears, “luke, i’m really sorry…” luke is quick to bring you in his arms, declining your apology because that’s what he does—he’ll blame everything before he’ll blame you. you’re unable to hold back a sob, prompting him to hold you tighter before he whispers in your ear, “let’s not do this again, okay?”

ARTEM is going over a recent case when he realizes it’s almost midnight. he’s usually one to pull an all-nighter but gnawing at the back of his mind is the argument he had with you today—you two haven’t spoken to each other since. after having decided to put off his work until tomorrow, he walks out of his home office to join you in bed but he finds you in the living room instead, your pillows and blanket already set up on the sofa. he can tell you’re aware of his presence from the way you’re deliberately not looking in his direction. still, he attempts to catch your attention with a soft call of your name. when you don’t reply, he carefully crosses the distance between the two of you. “we can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he pleads. artem’s convinced his words have fallen on deaf ears until you finally speak, “i just don’t want to say the wrong thing again.” artem understands, thinking back to what started as a simple disagreement escalating into something it shouldn’t have and before you could stop it, you were both raising your voices at each other, saying things you didn’t mean. “i’m sorry about everything i said,” your voice sounds weak as it quivers and artem immediately wraps you in his embrace. “me too,” he tells you, “we can talk tomorrow. just come to bed.” when you nod into his chest, he presses a reassuring kiss at top of your head as he promises, “we’re alright.”

as MARIUS waits for you in bed, anxiety slowly eats away at him, the argument he had with you hours ago replaying in his mind. you should’ve walked in by now, he thinks, so he waits a few more minutes before getting on his feet and makes his way downstairs. he’s rehearsing his apology, muttering to himself to test the words on his tongue but it all flies out the window when he finds you asleep on the sofa. ridden with guilt, he decides to save his sorry’s for tomorrow when you’re both lucid for a proper conversation. marius is careful not to wake you up—gently slipping an arm beneath your head and looping the other under your knees to carry you to the bedroom. he’s tucking you in bed when you begin to stir awake. “sorry,” you hear him whisper, “didn’t mean to wake you up.” “what time is it?” you ask groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. “it’s late. go back to sleep.” he places a tender kiss on your forehead to lull you to your slumber before he shifts you on your side, his chest against your back as he slides an arm across your torso. “sweet dreams,” he mutters and you feel his breath on the nape of your neck. “marius?” “hm?” “i’m sorry about earlier…” “that’s my line, miss,” he quips, albeit sincerely. he gives your body a gentle squeeze as he pulls you flush against him. “i’m sorry, too,” he replies, “i never want you to go to sleep upset.”

you’re getting settled on the couch when you hear VYN clear his throat as he carefully places a fresh cup of tea on the table in front of you. “chamomile tea,” he states, “it will help you sleep better.” there’s the slightest caution in his voice but it’s enough to tell you what the tea is for—peace offering after your heated disagreement earlier. “thank you,” you mumble, gradually feeling the guilt bubbling in your chest, “you’re using reverse psychology on me, aren’t you?” there’s no bite in your tone but vyn’s eyes still widen at the accusation. “n-no,” he stutters and a giggle involuntarily escapes you, to vyn’s surprise. “i’m joking.” when you notice his body language go lax, you slowly reach for his hand. “and i’m sorry for the things i said to you,” you tell him, “i didn’t mean it.” “i know.” a soft smile curls on his lips as he interlocks your fingers together, “so am i.” you stay quiet for a moment, basking in his touch that you missed terribly before he speaks again. “if you still wish to be alone tonight, i don’t mind staying here.” you fight the urge to roll your eyes, aware of the fact that this is just him assessing your boundaries—vyn does mind and you know that—so you shoot him a dubious look instead to which he responds with a sheepish smile. “i suppose you’ve changed your mind?” you actually give him an eye roll this time. “you know you had me at chamomile.”

#tears of themis imagines #tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tot x reader #luke pearce #luke pearce x reader #luke x reader #artem wing #artem wing x reader #artem x reader #marius von hagen #marius von hagen x reader #marius x reader #vyn richter #vyn richter x reader #vyn x reader

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abbyromanoff · 7 months

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hi, could you do shy intersex emo!wanda with r who’s experienced, and wanda gets embarrassed about having sex since it’s her first time and she’s scared she’ll mess up, so r guides her and after r does something (you can decide) wanda snaps and takes control and gets all rough and stuff, with praise and mommy & daddy kink. (wanda calls r mommy but after the switch r calls wanda daddy). anything else, you can add!

EYES DON’T LIE

PAIRINGS: Wanda Maximoff x reader

WORD COUNT: 1,008

WARNINGS: smut, mentions of guns during sex, small usage of magic for sex, Wanda has a dick, restraints, mommy (R), daddy (W), switch!Wanda, praise kink, degrading, inexperienced!Wanda, cumming inside, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Please, Mommy,” Wanda begged quietly. You shared her a glance, your hand slowly stroking her pulsing cock. You chuckled, pressing your lips onto her tip and leaving stains of your red lipstick. She shuddered, thrashing her hands against the restraints in hopes she’d end up freeing herself, but that would only worsen the punishment she had.

“What? Can’t handle Mommy’s hand, hm?” She shook her head, a whine echoing throughout the room as it left her mouth. Her legs shook from a near orgasm, only to feel your touch leave her. Tears flooded her cheeks and eyes but you only smiled, wiping them away with your thumb before sucking on the digit.

“Mm, you think you can handle Mommy’s mouth then?” You placed your lips back in their origin, suckling softly on her tip before lowering yourself down and taking her in your throat. Soft gags could be heard replaying through Wanda’s mind, you were driving her mad.

“Tastes so sweet. My sweet girl,” You moaned around her, resulting in the vibrations that coursed through her and brought goosebumps to her pale skin.

“Maybe you’d like it better if I did this,” You straddled her waist and let her cock rub gently against your folds. Your wetness formed a reformation of lube and nearly brought Wanda to a quick orgasm. But, once again, she was denied that release.

“Please, Mommy! Oh, god, I wanna feel you so bad. Please- please just let me touch you- anything, I’m begging!” She sobbed, bringing a faux frown to your face. You knew she was quick to break, you were her first, after all. You taught her how to kiss you properly, eat you out, and tease you just right. Only now you were teaching her a new game, denial.

“Oh, don’t give up so easily, baby, you still have so much time to go.” Her hands were starting to become less of a struggle to move as she continued to thrash against the rope. She was finding a way out, but you were too focused on sinking down onto her length to care.

“Fuck, so big.” You moaned out, biting your lip and forcing the silence upon yourself. The moment you could feel your bottom hitting her pelvis, you also felt her grip falling onto your waist. Your eyes shot wide, a gasp threatening to escape you as she slammed you down onto her. She repeated, watching your breasts bounce in rhythm with her fast pace.

“Mm, how does it feel now, Mommy?” She swapped the two of you around swiftly, watching as you withered beneath her, your legs wrapping around her waist to bring her closer.

“So- fucking good!” You squeezed your eyes shut, your lip dripping blood from your previous endeavors. Your hands gripped her biceps desperately.

“F-fuck- Daddy!” You felt her slow to a stilt, your nerves rushing through you as you registered what you just said. You both shared a look, a smile ready to form across her mouth while you just stared in disbelief. You noticed the black eyeshadow leaking down her cheeks ever-so-slightly. You weakened beneath her intense stare, only to see a grin form. You racked through her possible emotions but it quickly came to a halt when her fingers held your chin. She leaned down closer, allowing you to feel her hot breath against yours.

“Say that again.” You did as told, causing her eyelids to flutter in and out of vision before she returned to her previous position. Her breasts were on display as her wrists were now hidden from your view, but you could practically sense the red lines that formed the more she resisted the restraints.

“Yeah? Mommy likes being a fucking slut for their Daddy?” You nodded, your voice seeming to disappear as you succumbed to the thumb on your clit. Her tip was teasing your g-spot with every thrust at the new angle and was creating an even further ache in your lower region. Your stomach tightened to its max before you released, your juices spraying against her fingers while she chuckled mischievously.

“Oh, baby girl, you did such a good job for Daddy. You think you can take one more?” She didn’t let you even process her words before she was forcing it out of you, resulting in your second orgasm only moments later. She was still holding back and if you weren’t under her wrath of pleasure, you’d congratulate her for lasting so long. That was until you noticed her breath quickening, her cheeks turning an even darker shade of red and her pupils blown out. Her veins were turning red from her magic and wisps of it surrounded her as you felt trails of hot cum leaking into your tight hole.

“Shit! Mhm, yeah, that’s it, be a good girl. You’re such a pathetic Mommy, Y/N.” She pressed her face into your neck, inhaling your sweet scent while gripping onto your shoulders. Her legs shook and so did yours, the room being filled with the stench of sex. Your shared moans and groans would be considered pornographic to anyone listening in, but the two of you were too out of it to care.

“I thought I’m the one meant to be in charge?” You joked as her lips found your neck, creating dark reminiscences of her love.

“Mm, I guess I just like surprising you sometimes.” Her eyes scanned the room before her eyes landed on an object she had left behind when discarding her clothes in a hurry.

“Speaking of surprises,” Your eyes went wide when seeing the unloaded weapon before you met her gaze. She held a proud smirk as she twirled the gun in her hand, making sure to check that the safety lock was on even thinking about using it.

“What do you say we try something new, huh? I just think this would look so good right,” The tip prodded at your mouth before you let her in, feeling the cold material clash against the warmth you held.

“Here.”

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wlntrsldler · 1 month

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THE PROPHECY | LUKE CASTELLAN

synopsis: series of events between zeus!reader and luke that started the prophecy. not canon-compliant; inspired by the prophecy by taylor swift.

series masterlist | previous | next

Hand on the throttle, thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again.

"Do you think Thalia knew I loved her?"

There was a bite in the air, as there always was when the summer began to fade and fall began to creep up at Camp Half-Blood. It happened every year, at least for the past three years you've called Camp Half-Blood your home.

Luke sat beside you on the hard, dirt floor, looking up at the green of Thalia's pine tree. The summer campers knew of her legend, but it was the year-rounders like you and Luke who understood her sacrifice best. There was a feeling of guilt and gratitude that engulfed all of you, like the protection Thalia blanketed over the campgrounds. You were thankful that demigods had a place to feel safe, but it came at the cost of a life. Thalia should be here.

"Of course she knew," Luke replied, unconsciously yanking out the blades of grass that flourished between the cracks in the floor. "She's your sister."

"Yeah, but do you think she knew I chose to love her?" You clarified, turning your head to face him. You did this every year, you and Luke at the foot of Thalia's tree once the summer campers all left for the year. “I mean yeah, I had to love her because she’s my sister, but do you think she knows that I would’ve chosen to love her even if she wasn’t? I feel like I never told her that. We always fought.”

Each year you studied Luke and noted the things that were different. He's older now. His arms were more defined, muscles beginning to form on his otherwise lanky frame. He'd grown taller in the last few months and his body was adjusting to his new height. The pants he wore all of last summer were discarded a few months ago. They stopped short on his ankles and Luke decided that it was time to let them go.

Another bead was added to his necklace, three wooden beads clanking against each other, just like yours, when he moved his body too quickly. A new bracelet adorned his wrist given to him by a young girl in the Hermes cabin before she left to go back to Virginia for the year. Luke had a collection of bracelets stashed in his bedside drawer. It was a reminder of all the demigods he wanted to protect. Some became painful reminders of the ones he couldn't.

Luke pursed his lips, "Sisters fight. I don't think she took it personally."

Each year you studied Luke and treasured the things that stayed the same. He still had the same smile as he always did, bringing you back to when you and Thalia first met him all those years ago– just three kids fighting for your lives all on your own. You and Luke were the same age, him only your senior by a few weeks, but he took the protector role seriously. Luke was your safe place before Camp Half-Blood.

His curls were the same, especially in the mornings when he first gets out of bed; all wild and unruly, just like how he is when he wasn't carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. Some people say it's because he's the son of Hermes so mischief ran through his veins, but there was nothing about Luke that mirrored his father. He was too good to be like the gods.

"I just wish my last words to her weren't that," You uttered, a bitter taste in your mouth as you replayed your last conversation with Thalia. In the final stretch of your journey to Camp Half-Blood, you and Thalia got into an argument. In hindsight, it was petty, a disagreement that any older and younger sister would have, but it felt big at the moment. You didn't speak to her for two days. And then, in the blink of an eye, there was a blinding light, and suddenly, your little sister vanished.

You don't even remember what the fight was about anymore.

"You need to forgive yourself," He said, flicking away the blades of grass he had in between his fingertips, "This wasn’t on you."

He said this every year, yet it never felt rehearsed. It always felt genuine when Luke said it. You wondered if he got annoyed at how you brought this up each year, this never-ending feeling of guilt that you didn't turn around to see if Thalia was behind you, that you couldn't protect your little sister, but Luke was patient with you. If it bothered him that you thought about it often, he didn't show it.

"Sometimes it feels like it is," You whispered, watching a singular pine fall from a branch. You like to think that Thalia did these things to let you know that she's listening. "Our dad hasn't talked to me since."

Luke clenched his jaw, wiping his hand on the fabric of his cargo pants. His warm palm took your hand, giving it a soft squeeze, "You're better off."

"Maybe."

"You are," He said, clearing his throat. His chest felt heavy as he spoke. "I have to tell you something."

You turned your hand over, lacing your fingers together. Holding Luke's hand always felt right, even when you were fourteen and he had to drag you away to safety from the monsters who were out to get you; even when you were fifteen being woken up by the nightmares caused by the empty Zeus cabin, a chilling reminder that your sister was supposed to be there; even when you were sixteen and began to take on more responsibilities at camp despite your protests. "What is it, Luke?"

"I have a quest," He admitted. He'd been keeping this from you for days. He was meant to embark on this journey today, but he pleaded with his father to give him until tomorrow to begin. He knew the day the summer campers left was hard on you.

Your stomach dropped. Luke had been waiting for a quest from his father for years. You watched him fall into a pit of despair every time a camper who'd been at camp for a shorter period of time got a quest and returned with the glory of the strongest and bravest champions. You knew Luke wanted the opportunity to prove himself to his father. This quest was it, but it didn't mean that you were enthusiastic about the idea. "When do you leave?"

"In a few hours."

"Oh."

"Are you upset?"

"No," You said, then paused. You thought about it. Luke let you think in silence, rubbing his thumb along your skin. "Yes, but I can't do anything about it. I can't stop it."

"Say the word and I will, you know that," Luke rebutted, staring at you now. "I won't go if you don't want me to."

"Luke," You sighed, "You can't deny the gods."

"For you, I'd try to." Sometimes Luke said things that worried you. You'd always been told that your allegiance should be to the gods, your parents. Sometimes you felt differently, but you never said it out loud, but Luke had no problem doing it. He made it clear that his allegiance was to the people he loved, to you.

"You should go," You said, ignoring the shake in your voice. It was tempting to tell him to stay; Tell him to be content to live a quiet life in the safety of these grounds, to be content with the glory he received from being the head counselor of the Hermes cabin, as the best swordsman at camp. But Luke craved more to life than this, you knew that. He needed more than another notch on his belt from Capture the Flag. He deserved more. He deserved a father who cared about him. Maybe this quest is the key to giving him exactly what he needed. You couldn’t in good conscience keep him from that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." The lie burned your tongue. While some demigods returned victorious, some never returned at all. The thought of it made a chill run down your spine. It made Luke flinch.

He wrapped his arms around you. The position was awkward, but neither of you cared. When you were younger, his curls tickled the side of your cheek when you hugged him. You used to be able to look him in the eye back when you were the same height. You used to be able to memorize the features on his face; the crinkles by the side of his eyes that would appear when he'd smile, eyelashes brushing against the stray hairs of his eyebrows; full cheeks dusted with the faintest shade of pink from the beating sun or the wind chills; a crease under his lips that cast a shadow on his chin.

Now that you're older, his curls fell against your temple when he held you like this. His face was thinner, jaw more defined and cheeks hollow, like his youth was being drained from him each year. But his heart remained the same. A steady thump against your own, a beat that became synonymous with home.

“I feel like this is a test,” He murmured, shaking as he spoke. He’ll blame it on the wind if you asked, but he knows that his words would fall flat. You always did know when things felt wrong with him. Sometimes he thought that you knew him better than he knew himself. Luke licked his lips, “Like he’s expecting me to fail and prove what he’s known all along.”

“You always tell me that I’m more than what the gods think of me,” You said, looking up at him. Luke was staring at the sky, jaw rigid as he fought back the tears. There were only a handful of things that made Luke emotional– talking about his father was one of them. He used to cry when he talked about May, too, but now when someone asks about his mother, his tone turns robotic. He recited her fate like a broken record, waiting for the inevitable looks of pity from the onlookers. You brushed your thumb along his jaw, “Luke?”

“Hm?” His eyes darted to yours, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips as he studied your features. Luke always knew you were beautiful, but sometimes when he was this close to you, it knocked the breath out of his lungs for a moment, like he couldn’t believe you were real.

“You always tell me that I’m more than what they make me out to be,” You repeated, holding his face in the palm of your hand, “And yet you never believe it for yourself.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle. You’d called him out on his hypocrisy more times than he could count. You were right, though. He did always tell you that the opinions of the gods didn’t matter, not when they didn’t know you like he knew you, not when they were too preoccupied in their own world to realize that you were the greatest thing they created.

“You are more than what your father thinks.”

He wanted to believe you, he really did, but all his life he’d been told that he was destined for something great. And yet the things he’d been able to accomplish so far seem so miniscule, irrelevant, in the context of the gods. He craved more.

When Luke was a child, May Castellan used to mumble the same phrase over and over again. He didn’t think much of it then, nothing that his mother said usually made any sense to his nine-year-old self anyway, but the more time he spent at Camp Half-Blood, the clearer her words became. Luke was destined for something, it’s in the cards, it’s in the hands of fate. This quest might be it, the first step to reaching eternal glory.

There are times though, during moments like this, with you beside him, when he thinks that he’ll be fine not reaching eternal glory. He can live out his life happily with just this; you and him at the foot of Thalia’s tree, with you telling him he’s more than what the gods want him to be. After all, he’d give up eternal glory if it meant being with you.

“You’re gonna be okay without me around?” He teased. For years, it had always been you and Luke. It was a type of co-dependence that made Chiron and Mr. D's eyebrows raise. They found it dangerous. You overheard them talking in the Big House about it once, how unnatural it was for two demigods to choose each other despite the dangers of it. You joked that it was a trauma bond of sorts, but you and Luke both knew that it was more than that. Neither of you said it out loud, though, both too scared to ruin whatever this was.

“No, probably not,” You confessed. Your words took him by surprise. He was expecting you to join his teasing, but he found no trace of banter in your tone. You bit your bottom lip, “But you’re gonna come back, so I’ll be okay. I need to be okay with you being gone. I can’t expect things to always stay the same.”

Luke couldn’t help but frown at your words. He knew you were right like you always were, but he didn’t like the idea of things changing. So much in his life moved with the tides, and up until he met you, he was fine with it. But the idea of the two of you changing, the idea of one day not having this, not having you, well, Luke didn’t think he could stomach the idea. His lips hovered over the crown of your head, almost touching you but not quite, “Not us, though. It will always be us.”

Luke didn’t know what he was destined to do, what prophecy the gods and the Fates had in store for him, but the only thing he was sure of was you. And that was never going to change if he could help it.

#frances writes #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke fic #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan series #percy jackson fanfic #luke pjo #pjo series #pjo fanfic

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slu7formen · 1 month

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I heard you were sad about the lack of Luke asks, so l've decided to try and help! Bare with me bc this might not be the best considering I'm think on the spot and its late over here so feel free to delete!

So, reader was with Luke when he was running away with Annie and Thalia so they're really close. Then, when her and Luke were like 16 or smth reader left on a quest and its been like 2 years so its assumed that she just failed and died on her quest. This ruined Luke bc he loved her and one night, maybe at the bonfire, he hears reader screaming his name somewhere in the foresty part of camp, just absolutely terrified. He finds her and shes hurt, I'm talkin reallyyy messed up like a massive gash across her eye, (matching scar awww) leavin her like half blind, huge claw marks, teeth marks, and other wounds. He carries her to the infirmary, shes prob passed out at this point from like blood loss. Anyways, she finally wakes up in the infirmary and a bunch of fluff ensues, yk the usual "Don't ever leave me again" "I thought you were dead" the fun stuff and obv they confess to each other! (also, is 🖤 taken?)

whoever made this request, it was so good, you’re evil and brilliant; thank you 🖤

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

warnings: wounds, injuries, blood mention, presumed death, luke being heartbroken (sorry), crying

reminder: english's not my first language so l apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

Every morning, Luke woke with the same dull ache in his chest, a constant reminder of the gaping hole your absence had left in him. It was a hollow ache, a physical manifestation of the loneliness that had become his unwelcome company. Nine years old when he ran away, the world had been a harsh teacher, but three years later, when he found you, that harshness had softened, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. You, a scared, twelve-year-old with defiance blazing in your eyes and a meager weapon in hand, had become his anchor in the storm.

The streets had been a cruel way of living, but together, you and Luke had forged a bond stronger than steel. You were the same age, yet he was older by a few months, a difference that somehow granted him a silent responsibility for your safety. Thalia and Annabeth, two more lost souls swept up in the world of their demigod destinies, completed their unbalanced family. But it was you and Luke, the two eldest, who shared a silent language of understanding that went beyond words. You fought together, scavenged together, your backs against the world.

The arrival of Grover, a satyr reeking of panic, brought relief and a terrifying truth— you weren't alone. The hunt for demigods was real, and you were all in danger.

Fourteen. A year etched in his memory with the sharp point of a spear. The monsters, the desperate fight, Thalias selfless sacrifice, the agonizing transformation into the pine tree — the events played on a loop in his mind. Camp Half-Blood, once a beacon of hope, now felt like a bittersweet prison. He had you by his side then, a hand to grip in the darkness, a silent understanding in your shared gaze.

It wasn't supposed to be this way. You were supposed to be there, by his side, facing challenges and forging a future together. He replayed the memory of your first quest announcement on a loop. The fear in his gut, a slap in the face of his fierce protectiveness. He wasn't supposed to lose you.

It wasn't fair. It shouldn't have been you, alone, facing whatever monstrous fate had befallen you. A bitter taste filled his mouth as he replayed the day you left. The forced cheer, the worry that gnawed at him, all a blur now. Training became a way to numb the ache, each swing of his sword carrying a silent plea for your sate return. But as days turned into months, the hope that had fueled him began to fade away.

News traveled slow in the demigod world, but eventually, rumors reached Camp Half-Blood. Whispers of a monstrous encounter, a lost trail, a silence that stretched too long. A year after your departure, the whispers solidified into a grim reality - you were missing, presumed dead.

Luke felt the world tilt on its axis. Denial battled with a cold, horrifying truth. You were gone.

A quest, a single solitary mission, had stolen you from him. Stolen your laughter, your warmth, your presence that had become an essential part of his world. It wasn't fair.

The quest for the Golden Apple had been a cruel twist of fate. A desperate attempt to appease his father, to offer a sliver of hope to a camp drowning in sadness, it had backfired spectacularly. Luke returned empty-handed, his body wracked with exhaustion and his spirit battered. But the most visible reminder of his failure was the jagged scar that ran from beneath his eye down to his chin, a pale testament to the dragon's fury.

He'd needed your presence then more than ever. Needed your steady gaze and the quiet strength you possessed. Needed the spark of defiance in your eyes that mirrored his own growing anger towards a world that had seemed so determined to tear them apart. He needed your touch, your hugs, he needed you.

He stood stiffly before your burial shroud, an image carved in his memory forever. Tears streamed down his face, hot and unchecked. He ignored the concerned glances of his friends, focusing only on the phantom warmth of your hand in his, a memory more vivid than anything else.

In that moment, ravaged by grief, a single truth burned bright — he loved you. And he had lost you. The world felt a little emptier, a little colder, without you by his side.

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

At first, they were hopeful visions. He'd see you, alone on a dusty road, tending to a nasty gash on your arm with a makeshift bandage. A surge of worry would course through him, a familiar anxiety honed by years on the streets. But then, a wry smile would tug at his lips as he remembered the countless times he'd taught you how to create a tourniquet, how to patch a wound and survive on the bare minimum. A flicker of confidence, a belief in your resourcefulness, would chase away the initial fear. He just knew you'd find a way back to him.

He'd wake with a jolt, his hand instinctively reaching for the empty space beside him. The sheets were cold, the air thick with the silence of your absence. But then, a flicker of hope would ignite— you were alive, you were out there.

Finally, the dreams turned into nightmares. You'd appear, but not the way he remembered you. Pale and gaunt, your eyes hollow and vacant. Sometimes, you'd be chased by monstrous shadows, their grotesque forms dissolving into a chilling whisper of your name. These dreams left him gasping for breath, his heart hammering against his ribs.

It had been a little over a year since the agonizing ceremony, the image of your burial shroud seared into his memory. But time, a supposed healer, offered no solace. In reality, it had stretched the fact of your absence even wider. Two years. Two years since he'd last seen your smile, heard your voice, felt the warmth of your hand in his.

"Luke!"

Ah, yes. He heard you sometimes. At first, it happened while he was alone; he believed it could be you, trying to contact him in some way, but it never was that way. He never found you. Then he started hearing your voice in crowded places, mistaking your voice for the ones of other campers, and his heart ached every time he realized it wasn't you.

He felt like he was going insane. Hearing you, even after years. He must be going mad. But then, it became clearer.

"Luke!"

The voice, barely audible above the crackling flames, cut through his thoughts like a knife. He froze, his hand tightening around the thin stick that held his burned marshmallow. Was it-? No. It couldn't be. He must be imagining things again.

The grief, the pain, he knew, could play tricks on the mind.

He brushed it off, attempting to rejoin the conversation, forcing a lightness to his voice that felt hollow. But then, it came again. Clearer this time, tinged with a desperate urgency.

"Luke!? Luke!"

The single word, laden with a desperate urgency, pierced through his defenses. He froze, his blood turning to ice. It was your voice. The same voice that filled his dreams and haunted his waking hours. He whipped his head around, searching the darkened forest beyond the fire's reach.

But the trees stood silent, their branches swaying gently in the night breeze. Nothing. Yet, the echo of your voice lingered in the air, a chilling reminder of the impossible. His heart pounded in his chest, a frantic drum against his ribs.

He glanced around the fire, catching the bewildered expressions of a few campers who had clearly heard the voice too. Their eyes mirrored the confusion and fear that clawed at him. If he said anything, they'd think he'd cracked, that the pain had finally driven him mad.

"Luke!"

But it was you.

Your voice, unmistakable and undeniably real. A wave of disbelief washed over him, followed by a surge of hope so intense it threatened to suffocate him.

He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the surprised yelps of his friends as he knocked over a tray of steaming hot cocoa cups. Stumbling over his own feet, he charged towards the edge of the forest, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs.

He skidded to a halt just inside the treeline, his eyes scanning the darkness. "yn!?" he called out, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and desperate hope. The only reply was the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.

It was cloaked in darkness, making it impossible to discern any details. But there was a smallness, a fragility to its silhouette that resonated with his memory of you.

Just as doubt began to creep back in, another call pierced the silence. "Luke!" This time, the desperation in your voice was unmistakable.

He didn't hesitate any longer. "yn!" he roared, his voice raw with emotion as he launched himself into a run.

Several campers, roused by the commotion, scrambled to their feet, their eyes wide with confusion and trepidation. They watched, mouths agape, as Luke bolted towards the treeline, his long strides eating away at the distance.

"Luke!" Your voice came again, closer this time, tinged with a note of panic.

"yn!" He didn't dare slow down, his heart making its way up to his mouth. He could hear the sound of others following him, their footsteps pounding on the soft earth behind him.

Through the dense foliage, he caught a glimpse of your figure — small, hunched over, moving with a limp. Hope flared bright within him, battling the tide of fear that threatened to drown him.

Then, you stumbled, nearly falling. He redoubled his efforts, pushing himself to the limit. As he broke through the last line of trees, he saw you standing there, bathed in the pale moonlight.

And his breath hitched in his throat.

The sight of you, once vibrant and full of life, was a punch to the gut. Dirt and grime smeared your face, your clothes were ripped and tattered, and a sheen of sweat covered your brow. But it was the wounds that stole his breath away. Deep claw marks raked across your arms, a bloody gash marred your leg, and the most horrifying of all — a massive scar stretched across your eye, a brutal reminder of some unseen battle. The campers behind him gasped in unison, their faces etched with shock and horror.

Chiron, alerted by the commotion, pushed his way through the crowd, his brow furrowed in concern.

But your focus was solely on Luke. With a desperate cry of his name, you lurched towards him, your injured leg buckling beneath you. Without hesitation, Luke launched himself forward, catching you in his arms just before you hit the ground.

"Luke..." you whispered, your voice barely a breath. Your eyes, the one that wasn't obscured by the wound, flickered with a spark of relief and a hint of something else - a deep, unspoken emotion that mirrored his own.

Then, your eyelids fluttered closed, and your body went limp in his arms. Panic surged through him as he cradled you closer, his voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and relief. " yn? No, no, no, no, yn?" he slightly slapped your cheek, no response. He looked back to to the campers that decided to follow him, his voice cracking with desperation. "Get the Apollo cabin, now!"

The days that followed your arrival were shrouded in a suffocating silence. The once vibrant camp seemed to echo with a collective held breath. No one dared to talk to Luke.

His eyes, once playful and sparkly, now held a deep, smoldering anger. He snapped at anyone who dared to approach. Only Chiron, with his patient wisdom, Annabeth, with her loyalty, and the healers of Apollo cabin, sworn to secrecy about your condition, were able to pierce the storm raging within him.

Each day, a relentless routine unfolded. Luke would rise with the first rays of dawn, his body heavy with the weight of his own despair. He'd force down a meager breakfast, the taste turning to ash in his mouth. Then, with a heart that felt like a lead weight in his chest, he'd make the agonizing trek to the Big House, the temporary haven where you resided. He would do it multiple times a day, actually.

Lee, the son of Apollo with a mop of messy blonde hair and eyes that held a touch of empathy, would greet him at the door, a practiced neutrality masking his concern. The answer was always the same. You were alive. The healers had managed to stabilize you. But your recovery was a slow, painful journey. The wounds you bore were a testament to a harrowing pain, and the care they had taken on your body was immense.

As soon as you had fainted in his arms, you had slipped into unconsciousness. No amount of coaxing, no whispered pleas from the healers, or songs in Ancient Greek, could bring you back. Luke was devastated. The relief of having you back, a physical presence after two agonizing years, was a fragile flame quickly extinguished by the reality of your condition. Your life hung by a thread, and he was kept at arm's length.

One particularly bleak afternoon, Luke found himself face-to-face with Chiron. The old centaur, his kind eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within Luke, gestured for him to sit.

"Luke," Chiron began, his voice soft yet firm, "I understand your pain. Your worry for yn is valid and understandable. But you must also understand, her condition is delicate"

Luke clenched his fists, his jaw tightening with suppressed anger. "Why can't I see her? Annabeth's younger than me and yet, she gets to see her. Why not me?" The words tumbled out, laced with a raw desperation.

Chiron sighed, a weary sound. "Because, Luke," he said, his voice heavy with empathy, "we fear the emotional toll it might take on you if-, if the worst were to happen."

He slumped in his chair, defeated. Grief, anger, and a gnawing helplessness battled within him.

"How long then?" he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "How long will it be before I can see her again?"

Chiron reached out, placing a comforting hand on Luke's shoulder. "We don't know, Luke" he said honestly. "But the healers are doing their best And you need to find your strength. She will need it when she wakes up”

He nodded dumbly, understanding Chiron's concern for him. But that didn't make the gnawing ache in his chest any less agonizing. He missed you. Missed the warmth of your hand in his, the light that sparkled in your eyes, the way your laughter could chase away even the darkest shadows.

A few days later, he walked by the Big House again. Lee greeted him again, just as every other day.

"How is she?" Luke asked.

Lee sighed, a gust of exasperation tinged with sympathy. He looked tired himself, dark circles under his eye and a large cup of coffee in his hand. "Little change. But she's stable. Stronger than she looks. We had some healers fainting because of how much singing they've done to her"

A muscle ticked in Luke's jaw. "Can't I at least see her?" The words came out harsher than he intended, dripping with frustration.

Lee studied him for a long moment, his own blue eyes reflecting the turmoil within Luke. Finally, he spoke. "Look, I get it. You're scared, you're angry. But you have to understand, seeing her likes this... we can't let you"

Luke clenched his fists. "I can handle it" he growled, the beast within him straining against its leash.

Lee took a step closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Can you, Luke? Can you handle the possibility that maybe she doesn't get to wake up?"

The question hung in the air, a brutal truth that stripped away Luke's bravado. He stared at Lee, the anger draining away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that surprised even him. He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat suddenly making it hard to breathe.

"No" he whispered, the single word a confession of his deepest fear.

Lee nodded, a flicker of understanding softening his features. "Then trust us, Luke. Trust the healers. We're doing everything we can."

And then he remember Chiron's words. He knew he was right. He couldn't bear the thought of the last image of you being one of unconsciousness, a pale specter in a sterile infirmary bed.

The days that followed settled into a grim routine. Luke stopped asking the relentless question, 'Did she wake up?' The answer, etched into his weary soul, was a constant ache that no words could soothe. He had stopped arguing, the initial burst of rebellion replaced by a quiet desperation. He started asking more specific questions, focusing on the details of your injuries. Your eye, the massive gash that mirrored his own scar in a way that made his stomach churn, became a particular point of morbid fascination.

He couldn't bear to look at the jagged mark on his face, couldn't imagine how it felt on yours.

Not because he thought you wouldn't be beautiful —he knew you would be. But the thought of you facing the same constant reminder of pain, of vulnerability, filled him with a protective rage that simmered beneath the surtace.

But then, a shift began to occur. He noticed stolen glances exchanged between the Apollo campers, hushed whispers that died down as soon as he entered their vicinity. An unspoken secret they guarded fiercely. He tried to ignore it, burying himself in training, seeking solace in the familiar sting of sweat and exertion. Chiron's words were a constant drumbeat in his head - seeing you too soon, on the precipice of death, was a burden he might not bear.

But later that day, as the sun dipped below the horizon casting the camp in an orange glow, Chiron sought him out. Luke braced himself, his heart plummeting into his stomach. His mind spun with a thousand morbid possibilities.

He met Chiron's gaze, a storm brewing in his own eyes. "What is it?" he rasped, voice breaking.

Chiron took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto Luke's with a solemn intensity. "Luke," he began, his voice thick with a mix of trepidation and hope, "she's awake."

The world seemed to tilt on its axis again. The air whooshed out of Luke's lungs, leaving him breathless. For a moment, he could only stare, his mind struggling to process the simple, life-altering statement.

Then he ran.

His feet pounded a trantic rhythm against the dusty path, each step fueled by a desperate need to see you. Chiron's protests, if there were any, were lost in the roar of blood rushing in his ears. He wouldn't be denied this. Not now. His legs pumped like pistons, fueled by a desperate hope that threatened to shatter him if it turned out to be false. He burst through the doors of the Big House, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste. The interior was deserted, the silence amplifying the frantic pounding of his heart.

He flung open the infirmary door, the sight inside momentarily stealing his breath. Two Apollo campers stood by the window, their hushed whispers abruptly cut short by his arrival.

But his eyes were locked on you, the very image of him defying the cruelty of fate.

You sat on the bed, a fragile silhouette bathed in the pale light, your head bent over your bandaged hands. Your hair, once a fiery mane, had grown longer, a testament to the time that had passed for him in a blur of grief. Your skin, usually kissed by the sun, was a pale canvas.

He took everything in — the fresh cuts marring your arms, the claw marks, the way your shoulders slumped with exhaustion. And you had lifted your head, startled by the sudden noise.

Your eyes, usually sparkling with life, were dull with pain, but when they met his, a spark ignited within them.

"Luke!"

The word ripped from your throat, a cry that echoed with relief and a tremor of something deeper. You lunged off the bed, ignoring the wince that contorted your face as your injured leg protested.

"yn, wait!" Lee sprang forward, concern etched on his face. Your stitches, particularly those on your thigh, were still fresh, and any sudden movement could cause them to tear.

But you didn't listen. You threw yourself at Luke, your arms wrapping around him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He caught you, the impact sending a jolt through his body. His arms tightened around you, a desperate need to hold on, to feel you solid against him.

He held you tight, the fierce possessiveness in his grip both a comfort and a warning. Your body, the way you fit so perfectly against his larger frame, sent a jolt through him. He'd grown, you realized, his broad shoulders feeling wider, his embrace stronger. In contrast, you felt impossibly small, the warrior you remembered replaced by a shell of the person you once were. His hot tears quickly started to wet your hair.

The sudden weakness in your leg, the one that had been screaming in protest since you lunged at him, finally overwhelmed you. A sharp cry escaped your lips as your body gave way beneath you. Instinctively, Luke tightened his grip, his arms morphing into a cradle to catch your fall.

The impact with the floor sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through you, but it was a dull ache compared to the overwhelming joy of finally being in his arms again. You clung to him, your fingers digging into his back, burying your face in the crook of his neck. Luke wouldn't stop sobbing now, his shoulder shaking as his arms held you into his embrace.

The Apollo campers, sensing the intimacy of the moment, mumbled apologies as they slipped out of the infirmary, leaving you and Luke alone.

He cradled you close, the scent of your hair and the warmth of your body a balm to his battered soul. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that had haunted his dreams for so long. It was real. You were real.

"You're alive" he sobbed, the words a broken mantra against your ear. "You're alive" he repeated. Each repetition wasn't just for you, but for him, a desperate attempt to convince himself that this wasn't a cruel dream, that you weren't an illusion.

He pulled back slightly, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb gently tracing the line of your jaw. The wounds looked clean now, stitched and bandaged, but the raw pain was etched in the lines around your eyes. The gash across your eye, a crimson scar angry and fresh, pulled at the corner of your eye, making it appear swollen and bruised. Yet, to him, you were the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

It started a finger's width above your eyebrow, then, just as abruptly, it dipped down, catching the outer corner of your eye. The scar tissue pulled the delicate skin, making your eye appear slightly narrowed and bloodshot.

But despite the rawness of the wound, despite the vulnerability etched on your face, there was something undeniably fierce about you. It was a look he hadn't seen before, a look born from surviving the unthinkable.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, blurring your vision. You had always been beautiful, that much was undeniable. But now, even with a scar contrasting against your features, you were breathtaking.

He didn't mean to say it out loud, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.

"You look beautiful" he breathed, his voice thick with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts" you whispered, a tear tracing a path down your cheek.

"I know" he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. He sniffed uncontrollably at your sight, so broken and fragile, wrapped around his arm. "But you're alive. You're here" his bottom lip started trembling before he could control it. He inhaled sharply and his voice came out shaky; "I thought you were dead" tears rolling down his cheeks.

You laughed, a weak sound that was more like a sob. "You won't get rid of me that easily"

He leaned in, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm on your skin. In that moment, the infirmary with its sterile smell and harsh light faded away. All that existed was the feel of you in his arms, the warmth of your body against his, and the knowledge that you were alive.

"Don't ever leave me again" he pleaded, his voice thick with a mix of relief and terror. The thought of losing you again, of facing another agonizing day without you, was almost unbearable.

"I wouldn't dream of it" you whispered.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan blurb #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

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tan1shere · 3 months

Text

Look after you

Ellie Williams x female reader !

A/n: currently in the situation where I was slightly drunk earlier, my ass passed tf out for a good 4 hours 😭 but like I woke up and my head slightly hurts (I found out that I had spilt some of my drink in my hair- it was a night ill say that 😃) and it made me think how Els would be while taking care of her drunk girlfriend. Hope you guys like this regardless, I kinda made this more comforting as I need that right now fr 😔✊🏻

Summary: Ellie taking care of her drunk girlfriend, but why is she even drunk in the first place ?

Warnings: drinking, swearing ? Slight angst in a way ??? Mentions of depression. Just cute fluffyness tho :) - this is set in where they are still in that little town ♡

Masterlist

The smell of alcohol was all that could be smelt in the small bar you and Dina were at. You two decided to go out for the night, the both of you getting absolutely wasted. When Jesse came to pick the both of you up he was shocked at the two of you for drinking so much. "You two are insane." He said as he walked with you guys. "I'm so sane." You'd slur. Which earned a hum from Dina. "I'm going to Ellies, later." You said as you stumbled off. You go over to her little garage of a home, just clumsily opening the door. Everything was spinning, your mind was so dizzy but oh boy did you feel good. As you enter you see Ellie on her bed reading a comic. She looks up at you. "Oh Jesus you look drunk as a skunk." She begins to get up. "I dunno what you're on about." You mumble, heading over to her couch feeling as if your legs were about to give out. She sighs. "Did Dina get this wasted too?" You don't answer only shrug.

She awaits for an answer when she hears giggling, she looks at you slumped on the sofa, laughing like a little weirdo. It only makes her smile tho. "Come on, let's get that makeup off." You look at her as she speaks. "Noo I'm comfortable!" You say, moving slightly on the old couch. "And I'm not taking 'noo' for an answer, I know you. You'll hate yourself in the morning." You groan, but still staying in your spot. "Don't make me come over there." She begins to walk over, when suddenly you feel a presence on top of you. "Ughhh get off." You weakly try to push her, this just makes her laugh. "That's cute. But don't make me have to bring it over here, I'll go into the bathroom and grab those cloths don't put it past me." She puts a finger in your face, you then look at it, going to bite it gently. "Ay!" She exclaims pulling it away. This makes those previous giggles return.

"You're such a fucking menace you know that." You hum as she says that. "You love my menaceness." She shakes her head at you. "That's not even a word, you drunkie." You open your eyes up fully to look at her. "Well I made it one." Ellie rolls her eyes at how silly that statement was, making her laugh once again. She gets up eventually going to leave for the bathroom. "Nawww." "Stop your whining I'll be right back." Your drunken mind finds that funny, starting to smile and giggle as you replay her words in your brain. "You loveeee when I'm whiney." She raises her brows, coming over to you with a warm cloth. "Don't start with me Missy." She says as she sits on the couch, moving your legs so they're resting on her lap. "You didn't deny it." You sing. "If you don't shut up now you really will be whining."

You give her a silly little glare. But it did make you shut up. She begins to bring the face cloth over your makeup, wiping slightly. You being your annoying drunk self goes to swat her hand away. "You little monster." "Hey! I'm not little." You huff, but she ignores all these antics going for your face again. "No. No touching, I'm not even speaking to you right now." Which puts a smile on her face because you were indeed speaking to her. "Is that so? May I know why?" You shake your head. "No, you figure it out since you're so big and smart." You huff again. "Cuz I called you little huh?" You just give her a look. "God you're pleasant when you're drunk." She says sarcastically. "Say you're sorry for calling me short and then you can do whatever it is you were doing." She gives you a be for real look, rolling her eyes with a shake of her head. Knowing you are drunk still, just going to do so anyways.

"I'm so very sorry I called you little. There." You ponder for a second. "Nope, didn't say what i told you to." This makes her let out a huff. Earning a cheeky smile on your face. "God you're trouble." "Say it." You giggle. "I am so incredibly sorry that I called you short. Happy?" She says. "Yes very." You could feel the tiredness taking over, she notices. "Come on, let's sit up." She goes to try and get you to do so, making you groan as your head started to hurt from the dizziness. Not long after she was done with taking your makeup off, going into the bathroom to put the cloth on the small railing she had. When you suddenly felt like- "Ellie.." You began. "Yes my drunkie." But she didn't realize you had gone serious as your tone was still slurred. She comes out to look at you. "Baby?" Her brows furrow. "I think I'm gunna-" you don't even need to finish that sentence before she's over there helping you up and into the bathroom where you immediately puke in the toilet.

The groan you let out makes her heart hurt as she knows you hate puking. She holds your hair back as you continue to chuck up your guts, feeling slight tears spring from your eyes. "I hate puking." She gets on the floor with you. "I know babygirl. I'm sorry I got home so late tonight, even tho that doesn't matter I should've gone down to see you." There was a silence as she began to stroke some hair out of your face. "Whyd you drink so much love." She asks softly, you just shrug in return. Honestly you don't know why. You'd been feeling a little off lately and you thought this night with Dina, having some drinks would ease the slight sadness inside you, but if anything it's made you feel worse. "Talk to me sweetheart." That makes you look at her, feeling tears again. This time they were genuinely sad ones, not out of pain from puking.

"I don't know whats wrong with me." You sob, one thing Ellie hates is when you cry, she just wishes she could take that pain away for you. "Nothings wrong with you my girl, nothing." She says, cupping your face gently. "I don't even know why I'm sad, i- I have no reason to be." You hiccup not only from the crying but also from the fact your still just a tiny bit drunk. Which makes her say this. "Why don't we talk about this when you're fully with it yeah? I think you've had a long night and rest is the best thing right now." You nod, agreeing. "I'm going to get you some water ok?" You let out a small mhmmm in understanding. Getting up with her. She walks you over to her bed, carefully laying you down on your side, brushing any loose hair out of your face and making sure your comfortable. She came back with a glass, getting you to sit up a bit and drink it. But you were worried to, as you didn't want to puke again.

"Drink it, please. You lost alot of fluids you need it." You know you do, but it wasn't easy. "I promise you won't puke, why don't you suck on some ice instead." This makes you feel happy inside. "Ice chips?" She smiles at you. "Ice chips." All you wanted was to give her a big hug and a kiss. She truly knew you and you couldn't thank her enough for being such a great girlfriend. "I love you Ellie." She grabs your hand smiling more. "I love you baby. Let me get the ice hm?" You nod softly at her words. As she goes to get it you sit and think. You really didn't know why you were so upset inside lately. Maybe it was the dull weather or another one of your depressive episodes. You did miss Ellie though, she has been so busy lately you feel like you haven't really been with her. Maria always getting her to go on patrols, poor Ellie never has a day off, even if she loves what she does everyone needs a break from time to time.

She comes back over with a tiny bowl and some small ice chunks. "Here you go pretty girl." You thank her going to suck on the first one. She sits on the bed just looking at you admiringly, putting any annoying piece of hair out of your face. "Els?" "Hmm?" She hums gently. "Why don't you have a day off from patrol baby." She softens her look as you say that. "Get Maria to ask someone else, you're always working your ass off." And it all clicked on why you said what you said earlier. "I'm so sorry." You get a bit confused by her apology. "I should've seen you were getting depressed again." That makes you look into your lap fiddling with your hands, but she grabs them. "Look at me baby." And you do. "From now on I'll take the breaks i need and to spend that time with you. I realize I do work alot, and I don't really need to- but I'll tell her that from now on." You nod.

"It worries me Els." She shakes her head. "I don't ever want you to worry about that-" "but it does baby. I see how worn out you are. Take tomorrow off, please?" Which she immediately nods to. "Ofcourse, I was going to anyway. Gotta look after my hungover girl don't I?" You smile at her. "I'm still sorry tho my love. I never ever want you to feel lonely inside, and seeing you cry earlier broke me. I hate seeing you cry." You hold her hand tighter. "I'll be okay, I've got my amazing protector." She smiles big. "Dina." You try not to let out a laugh at Ellies offended face. "I'm kidding I'm kidding." "You better be, I don't see her here looking after you, do you?" You smile more. "No. Ofcourse I meant you silly." She just smiles now. "Ok good, cuz I'm just that amazing." She says, putting her arm up showing her muscle. "And your protector." That makes you laugh more going to punch her arm. "You goofball." She gives you a small glare. "Ow that hurt." She tries to look sad but she immediately laughs, making you join in with her.

Ellie then wipes the left over tears from before. "So it's a plan, no more working overtime when I truly don't need to, and spend all that time with my special girl." Nodding, as you smile. "It's a plan." "Good." She goes to lean into kiss you but you pull back, leaving her stunned. "I have puke breath.." She just lets out a pft noise. "Good God woman, I've watched you pee and crap before, a little puke isn't going to gross me out, not to mention I literally watched you hurl." You playfully roll your eyes. "You're mad." "For you? Fuck yeah." Your smile hasn't been so big in a long time. You were glad to be back. And so was Ellie.

#elliewilliams #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams angst #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams comfort

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lnfours · 9 months

Text

doll | l.n

summary: ‘i’m not even joking when i say i’ve fallen in love w the way you write lando you have me giggling every single time and i love it - i’m not sure if your requests are open rn, but cld i request a lando x reader enemies to lovers kinda vibe? honestly whatever you wanna go with is fine but i need need tooth rotting fluff rn so maybe he has a nickname for her that only he uses and there’s a lot of oblivious-ness from both of them over the fact that they like each other :’‘)’ - @mars-dreamworld

warnings: fluff, language, enemies to lovers, female!racer, just overall a whirlwind of emotions. strap in.

masterlist | ask box 💌

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

lando norris was absolutely, most definitely, 100% the most insufferable person you had ever met.

in the beginning of the year, mclaren had announced that you’d be joining the team as a third driver, and of course people men took it to social media to express how they felt women didn’t belong in the sport. that racing was a ‘real man’s’ sport.

and now you needed to prove them all wrong, prove you were worth your spot on the team. you know you didn’t have to, that it wouldn’t necessarily change people’s minds, but you worked hard to be here. countless sleepless nights, crashes, tunings, everything, was worth this moment.

and now it was your chance. oscar had ended up with an injury after a crash in one of the practice races over the weekend, ultimately giving you his spot until he was recovered.

you and lando hadn’t really gotten along. you had found yourself battling with him on the track, the two of you going head to head in the garage after practices. you had thought his ego and his sarcasm was unattractive, whereas he simply just saw you as a threat.

but, deep down, he had a soft spot for you that he kept buried under the fake hatred. he didn’t actually hate you, who could? he admired your hard work and dedication, but be couldn’t help but feel like you were trying to take his spot.

“what the fuck, norris?!” you yelled, throwing your helmet to the ground as you stormed over to him. he wore a smug look on his face that you would’ve found attractive if it weren’t for the fact that he felt the need to cut you off in turn 5.

“what?”

“are you thinking with your brain or your dick?!” you shoved his chest, but he didn’t move a muscle. he didn’t even budge, just looked down at you with those stupidly gorgeous green eyes.

“you’d know if i was thinking with my dick, doll.”

“don’t call me that.” you gave him a hard look and he put his hands up in fake surrender, shaking them like he was scared.

and that’s where it all started, that stupid fucking nickname. every time he said it, it made your blood boil, made you want to connect your knee with his crotch. now that he knew how to press your buttons, he wasn’t ever going to let you live.

right now, your face was red as your blood boiled, sitting in the drivers room as your leg bounced. the two of you had it out again today, the crew immediately separating the two of you and telling you both to knock it off.

the embarrassment from your crew telling you to quit acting like a child replayed in your head the rest of the day and as you sat in drivers room, and slowly your anger turned into sadness. you sucked in a shaky breath, trying to keep your composure, but you failed. the tear rolled down your cheek and you sniffled to yourself.

but of course, the door opened at the wrong time, causing you to wipe your cheeks quickly before looking at who decided to barge in. your eyes met lando’s green ones, which immediately softened upon looking at you.

“can i help you with something?”

he licked his lips, his brain going a mile a minute. why were you crying? was it because of him? fuck.

“i uhm,” he stammered over his words, letting out a breath before speaking, “are you crying?”

you shook your head, wiping your cheek on the shoulder of your race suit, “no.”

he knew better, though. the door closed behind him as he sat across from you, “you don’t have to lie, y/n.”

the way your name sounded rolling off his tongue with that stupid accent made your stomach do flips, but you refused to give in. this is what he wanted, right? pull you close enough to destroy you and prove to everyone that you’re actually not good enough to be here.

“why do you care?” you asked, an eyebrow raising, “it’s not like you actually give a fuck, so can you go somewhere else with your fake sympathy?”

he immediately got defensive, “what makes you think i don’t care about you? would i have run over to you the other day at practice when you crashed if i didn’t care about you?”

you thought back to last week, your car going into the barrier on the track. lando had seen the crash, immediately following the crew onto the track and ignoring the drop in his stomach. you had climbed out, shaken up but okay when he reached you. he grabbed onto your shoulders after you tugged your mask and helmet off, your eyes distant as he searched them.

“y/n?” his voice was laced with concern, “y/n, are you okay?”

you snapped out of it, meeting his eyes before you looked down at your body, “i think so…?”

he grabbed your face into his hands gently, turning your face side to side as he tried to examine you. the medics pulled up, rushing over to you.

“it’s okay, we’ve got it from here.” the female said to lando. he hesitated before he let go, letting them lead you over to the back of the ambulance to check you over. you looked back at him, the feeling of his hands on your cheeks lingering as they ushered you in.

you looked back at the brit, shrugging, “i dunno.”

he chuckled, but it wasn’t laced with humor, more like disappointment, “okay,”

“why would i think that when you’re always trying to prove that you’re better than me?”

he didn’t say anything, looking down at the tile floor, “because i’m threatened by you.”

you scoffed, “tell me something i don’t know.”

“no, you don’t get it,” he said, sitting up again, “i’m threatened by you because you’re good. you’re insanely good. you race well, you train hard, everyone here loves you, the fans. you’re an inspiration. something i’ve always wanted to be for someone.”

your attitude shifted, looking over at the boy across from you. he wore a sad, regretful face as he played with the zipper on his suit.

“you’re an inspiration, lando,” you said, “the little boy who dressed up like you the other day? the one who said he wanted to be just like you?”

he shrugged, “one boy compared to thousands of little girls who see themselves in you. i know i shouldn’t be upset, you’re literally changing history, but seeing it makes me wish i was someone like you.”

“you’re right, you’re not like me,” you said, moving to sit next to him, “you’re lando norris, the one who got P2 in your home grand prix a few weeks ago, the one who goes out of their way to say hi to literally all the fans and take pictures with them. you’re literally someone’s ray of sunshine.”

he smiled softly, letting you continue, “be like you. don’t be like me, lan.”

his head snapped up at the nickname, “did you just call me ‘lan’?”

a smile spread across his face and you let out a soft laugh, “i guess i did.”

he smiled back, “thank you, though. i needed that. and, i’m sorry for how i’ve been towards you.”

you waved him off, the smile still playing at your lips. you tried to bite it back with your lower lip tucked between your teeth. he swore his heart skipped a beat at the sight. you nodded your head softly, “we’re cool. just pipe down the ego a bit, yeah?”

he let out a chuckle. being this close to him made you realize there was a hint of blue in his green eyes, the short stubble growing back from where he had shaved his facial hair. he was undeniably pretty and you were getting wrapped up in him and distracted. he was doing the same, his eyes scanning over every single one of your facial features as he tried his hardest to memorize them.

you smiled softly, “why’re you looking at me like that?”

he smirked, “you mean the same way you’re looking at me?”

you blushed, turning away from him but his eyes were still locked onto you. you went to stand up, smiling softly at him as it was nearing the beginning of the next race.

“i’ll see you out there.”

he smiled, “see you out there, doll.”

you shook your head, letting out a soft laugh as you let the door close behind you, the nickname no longer making your blood boil but suddenly making your stomach do flips.

lando norris was going to be the death of you.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris request #lando norris blurb #lando norris x reader fluff #fluff #blurb #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 blurb #mclaren #mclaren imagine #imagine #lando norris x female reader #lando norris x fem!racer #enemies to lovers #lando norris enemies to lovers

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luvrxbunny · 8 months

Text

black oak

Pairing: Perv?BSF!Eddie Munson x Innocent!Fem!Reader

Prompt: Voyeurism

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smoking (weed ofc),m! masturbation, f! masturbation, pillow humping, cum in pants (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 1.6k

A/N: im cutting it so close w these fics (i made this literally yesterday)

This started happening more recently now that you’re hanging out with Eddie more. You hang out with him after school and he walks you home, but whenever he leaves there's a consuming heat between your legs. It’s more tame when you’re with him, like a subtle hum in the back of your mind but once he leaves you; your mind hyper-fixates on him.

You’re trying to sleep but Eddie is in your head. You writhe around in your bed as you think about everything he is; brave, kind, caring, and sweet. You think about his hands, his hair, his rings, and his voice. You wiggle around in bed until your pillow makes its way between your thighs. Your hips stutter against it and you freeze, looking around the room as if someone may be watching you before letting yourself succumb to the pleasure of the fabric against your slit.

You tighten your thighs around the pillow, tilting your hips up to press your most sensitive spot against the pillow. You mutter timid curses under your breath, hugging your teddy bear to your chest with your eyes shut tight as you picture his face reluctantly. You always feel so dirty picturing him like this, thinking of him in this way. You can’t help but replay all the times you’ve seen him lick his lips, his pink, wet, tongue peeking from between them, the way he bites into the bottom one when trying to nail a certain chord. You can feel yourself getting even wetter between your legs, whining as you soak your pillow. It’s not enough.

You whine as you push yourself into a sitting position, straddling the pillow with a curve in your back to press yourself perfectly into it. Your head falls back at the stimulation and your eyelids flutter, you slowly roll your head forward and notice your drapes and window slightly open. You consider closing them, not wanting anyone to see, to hear but you feel a certain rush in your stomach at the exposure and shyly decide to leave them be.

Outside your window, is Eddie. He does this almost every night, this is the first time he’s seen this though. He walks you home after you hang out with him, and if the hangout has left something to be desired he simply climbs into his tree and watches you. There is this beautiful black oak tree that sits outside your window. If Eddie wanted more of you, but couldn’t hang out with you more- due to your very strict parent’s ruling- he suffered silently. He asked you if you could stay longer one time; the sad look in your eyes as you explained how upset your parents would be, broke his heart, so he never asked again.

However, when you showed him the pretty tree beside your bedroom, right outside your bedroom window- there was only one thought in his head. So it became a routine, if he didn’t have plans, and remembered to bring a lighter with his joint. He’ll light up and just sit on his branch outside your window. He usually witnesses you doing your school work, writing in your diary, and talking with your stuffed animals. If he’s lucky you’ll change your clothes there, although the way you change actually lets him see nothing. Tonight? He can’t believe his eyes.

His joint has long gone out, still in between his fingers as the bulge grows in his pants and his eyes bulge out at you. He’s fighting an internal battle, his hands are twitching to touch himself but he feels guilty intruding on such a private moment. He’s thought about you in this way before- he tries not to but mostly just cannot help himself. You’re so sweet, so caring toward him, so loving that he can’t help but feel this way for you. When you sit on his bed in your skirt, forgetting to tuck it under your butt- your panties pressed right into his bed… he’s hard in an instant. He’s thought of you while jerking off more times than he could count but in all his creativity he could’ve never imagined himself in a scenario as lucky as this.

He quickly puts the joint in his pocket and fumbles with his pants. He’s whining to no one as he undoes his belt. “Keep goin’, sweetheart. Ooh, so good, baby.” He shoves his hand into his underwear, quickly wrapping his fingers around his cock, pretending that it’s you. He’s already thrusting his hips into his fist as he watches you reach blindly for something to hug into your chest as your hips speed up. Eddie’s hand kicks up to match your pace and a moan rips itself from his throat. He watches you bite into your lip and your eyebrows twitch before you mutter something he wishes he could hear.

He zeros in on your hips, the way they move over your pillow, how desperately he wishes that was him. He pulls his hand away from his cock with a groan and rubs himself through his jeans. It’s less stimulating but it lets him pretend that it’s you and that makes it feel better than his hands ever could. His eyes roll back into his head as his hands find the same rhythm as your hips and he moans your name into the night air. He’s not worried about being caught, he can only think of you. He forces his eyes open to watch as your hips begin to stutter in their pace. He lets out a pained moan, wishing he could help you keep it steady, help you cum as fast, and as hard as you could.

You’re muttering something again, your volume climbing as you near your peak. Eddie’s legs are shaking as he holds off for you, wanting to cum at the same time. He watches you drop your teddy and place your hands on the pillow, holding it in place as you furrow your brows and grind harder, humping your pillow as your lips part into an ‘O’ shape. His stomach tenses painfully as he moans your name to no one, under his breath, just for him as he imagines you above him. The utterance of your name from his lips just brings him closer to the edge as he begins to hear a muffled translation of what your moans sound like. He shuffles himself a bit closer to your window, trying to hear as much of you as he can. He hears you saying something, a name, one he prays is his because he couldn’t handle the heartbreak of hearing someone else’s fall from your lips at a time like this.

He thinks about what you’d sound like saying his name as a moan, a groan, or even a whine or whimper if he’s lucky. He tries to fit his name into the blurry shape of whatever sound is falling from your mouth and it fits brutally well. He has to take his hands away, thrusting up into the air blindly, eyes rolled back and shut as your noises assault his senses. He can’t believe how well his name fits in your mouth, like your lips were made to form around it. “Eddie.” He can hear it, you’d say it high and breathy, on the cusp of cumming all over him, all around him, however you want. “Ed- Eddie” His eyes snap open to watch your lips as they form over his name again, “Eddie, please!” Your voice kicks up into a whine and your hips stutter to a stop as you fold over, shaking as you cum all over your pillow.

Eddie is painting the inside of his jeans, his hips thrusting erratically into his hand as he bites his lip so hard he’s scared he’ll take a chunk out of it. Your name and images of you are racing through his head, they do every time he cums, he just can’t help it anymore. He thinks about how you said his name, how it sounded from your lips… the fact that you’re thinking of him when you hump your pillow at night.

A strangled groan-whimper shoves its way from his chest as his balls tighten even more, producing as much cum as they can for you. His head slams back against the tree painfully and his eyes cross as he worships you in his mind, thanking you for making him cum, for letting him touch himself for you. His eyes open back up slowly, his hand overstimulating himself gently as you slowly overstimulate yourself, rocking your hips lazily over the pillow, your thighs twitching every so often. He watches you topple over onto your bed, leaving the pillow between your legs as you reach out for a different teddy, a smile spreading over your face when you find what you’re looking for.

He’s watching you through lidded eyes, his hips still twitching slightly. His brows furrow until he sees what you’re after, his heart swells and warms his chest. It’s a teddy bear he won for you at a fair, he’s wearing a leather jacket and sunglasses, you said he reminded you of Eddie.

He feels that little tingle he gets in his nose he gets when he’s about to cry and he tries his best to hold back as he starts climbing out of the tree, he always turns into a sap when he cums for you. He’s always wishing you loved him the way he loves you but for the first time, these tears are more positive. He peeks up at you one more time before dropping out of the tree and he gets to see you kiss ‘little Eddie’ on his head and snuggle him to your chest. He’s starting to actually think he may have a chance with you, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed it, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works, and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

#eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #perv!eddie x reader #perv!eddie munson

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 10 months

Note

Hello, I hope your having a nice day, can I request Yandere 1st Years + Grim (Platonic) with a Komi Reader? (From Komi can’t Communicate)

Reader’s known for being incredibly beautiful, intelligent, athletic and elegant in everything she does, however she has crippling Social Anxiety and ends up scaring everyone away with her ‘mean/scary’ look so everyone tends to avoid her (When it’s actually herself that’s nervous since she doesn’t know what to say)

Except for Ace, Deuce and Grim after they spent time with Reader in the mine, they discovered her anxiety she wrote it out so now they’re mostly the ones who do the talking for her and try to help her reach her goal of making 100 Friends in NRC, even though they both think that’s a ‘weird/bad goal’ because this IS NRC

Reader loves cats, so she spoils Grim and Lucius (The latter likes laying in her lap and even follows her around) with pets, treats and affection and helping her friends with studying since she gets perfect marks

How would they react to hearing Reader’s voice for the first time? Not to mention have Reader tell write out that she made a friend all by herself who visits her dorm at night and does nightly walks (You know who it is)

Komi-San Reader | Yandere Twisted Wonderland

You’re quiet and intimidating but not because others find you scary. The exact opposite, they’re obsessed. You’re athletic, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re kind, and the list goes on. Without so much as opening your mouth, the school is at its hands and knees all for you. Little do they know about your silent struggle, not like your dearest first-year friends. More than anyone they know how hard you work and if their hearts could overfill with love for you it already has. So imagine your stalkers' friends; reaction to you’re never heard before voice:

Ace Trappola

“Aw man, (Y/n) I can’t begin to explain how much of a pain he is! With his moodiness, we’re not going to win the game.”

“...”

“Don’t say that, I am great but not that great.”

“...Y-you c-can d-do it!”

He plays 10x better

All while running on his excitement and embarrassment

“Whoa, Ace! W-were you holding out on us!”

Everyone is floored that he’s suddenly just doing so well

He’s keeping your quiet cheers to himself

Replaying it in his head

He will teasingly ask you for a recording even when you cutely shake your head

“Oi oi don’t get all shy now, you were doing so well!”

He does circle back having already written down the names of those who turned their heads

If they’re so inclined to hear your voice in a roaring crowd

Then they should be alright with their ears no longer working

He’s being merciful when he does just this

And if you mention any mysterious friends, he’d no doubt try to follow up on that same treatment

Deuce Spade

“M-maybe being an honor student was too high of a goal.”

You shake your head

“Ahh I appreciate it, (Y/n) but if I’m going to flunk again I’ll be in trouble. Both with Riddle and my mom, I just can’t measure up. ”

“You…are a good student.”

He blushes

“G-g-g-g-good j-job (Y/n)!”

He knows how much this is taking for you to try

But he just can’t keep it together

He’s among the first to hear your precious voice

He has to be the only one

He doesn’t know what this feeling is but he doesn’t want to share

It especially rubs him the wrong way when you mention a mysterious friend

He decides to wait it out

See who this new friend he’s going to gut he has to meet

Epel Felmier

“Grrrr I can’t stand it! Why can’t I be taken seriously? I just hate my face!”

“...”

“Don’t hafta lie ta me, (Y/n)! I know I’m not handsome.”

“...I….th-th-”

“Huh?”

“I think you’re handsome.”

“Aw shucks, (Y/n)!”

He definitely wasn’t was expecting that

You’re just the sweetest as he predicted

He already keeps the notebook you’ve lost+ gone through with your written words

And the apple cores he lovingly retrieves from Ramshackle’s trash no doubt cultivating whatever ends up growing from them

He avoids the impulse to tear his book open at the mention of a new friend

Well I hope they like a poison-apple

Jack Howl

“I have a magift practice later on…are you still going to come?”

You nod your head

“T-thank you, I’d appreciate your support from the stands.”

When he says that he doesn’t expect you to actually whisper anything out

“G-go Jack!”

His keen ears pick it up and suddenly he’s breezing through obstacles like never before

And of course, he did his mate practically cheered him on

It makes it much earlier to replay that encouragement when he’s fighting for your honor his ownership of you

No doubt Savvannclaw is filled with your admirers

But some are a little too bold

So leave it to your mate to take action first

And while he’s at it he might as well guard your home more intensely

Sebek Zigvolt

“WHAT A MARVEL HUMAN! YOU’VE TAMED ALL THE FERAL FELINES ON CAMPUS!”

“...”

“WELL FOR A HUMAN IT IS DECENT WORK! PERHAPS YOU DO HAVE–”

“C-can you please be quiet?”

“...?....!..Y-you think y-you, a mere human, can tell me what to do?!”

Yes you can, having the loud half-fae go down two whole octaves was a feat

And he keeps replaying the moment in his head specifically the way your lips moved

Burning hot all over he’s not really listening to anyone for the next week month

But once he’s broken out of it he’s determined to repeat the miracle

And it seems it works best if your alone?

Then he’ll be sure to chase off the gaggle of scum+ admirers who you claim to be friends with

And he thinks nothing of a midnight friend…that is if you’re alone with them than that’s completely unacceptable

Grim

“Henchhuman! Everyone is soooo mean! Why doesn’t anyone like me? I know I’m so cool and maybe that’s why–”

“I like you.”

“Well of course you w–W-wait did you speak? T-t to me! Whoopee, I’m going to tell everyone the great Grim is who you spoke to first!”

He runs off to do just that

Bragging to anyone who would listen

He has to dodge a lot of assassination hits that day

But it gives him the content whenever that icky feeling comes up sometimes

And as for your ‘Hornton’ friend he’s seen him and next time he comes around he’ll boast all about his greatness and how you spoke to him

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qtboni · 11 months

Text

╰﹒ 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒 !

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Reader

OVERVIEW: After an argument with you, Simon feels a deep sense of remorse for the pain he caused and the distance he has created between himself and you. He proposes watching a movie together as a way to reconcile however, during the movie, Simon notices that you were zoning out. And when confronted, you burst into tears and reveal deep-seated emotions that you have been keeping to yourself.

C/W: Angst + hurt w/ comfort !! mentions of alcohol (drinking), offensive languages, mentions of overthinking for reader, both parties are hurt 'nd crying

W/C: 3.5k bubs

The silence was almost unbearable as you sat alone in the dimly lit living room, feeling increasingly claustrophobic. The weight of Simon's words hung in the air, making you feel like you couldn't catch your breath.

The room felt cold, the air thick with your tension. You tried to breathe deeply, filling your lungs with oxygen in hopes that it would calm the pounding of your heart. But it was no use.

You were trapped. Trapped in the silence, trapped in the aftermath of the argument.

You couldn't shake the feeling that this was all your fault. Maybe if you hadn't said anything, or if you had just kept your mouth shut, things wouldn't have escalated like they did.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, and you fought back the urge to cry again.

This wasn't how your night was supposed to go.

The pain in your heart was all too real, a heavy weight pressing down on your chest. You wanted to scream, to cry, to let go of the emotions, but you couldn't.

Instead, you lay on the couch, your body motionless except for the tears running down your face.

"Can you just stop being a bother?"

Exhaused. You felt so exhausted that you find that sleeping right now would've sufficed your hurt. Even if the tears would have left dry tear marks in the early morning when you get up.

Your thoughts raced, your mind filled with the sound of Simon's words, replaying over and over again like a broken record.

"I didn't even ask for any of these."

You couldn't stop obsessing over what he'd said, what he'd meant, whether or not he meant it. All you knew was that the hurt was too much to bear.

Until your body had enough.

After taking a moment to process what had just happened, you felt... numb. Your breaths came slowly and evenly, your eyes no longer brimming with tears, and your hiccups no longer piercing the silence of the room.

You sighed and sat up properly on the couch, rubbing your eyes as you tried to banish the images of Simon's anger from your mind.

You decided to distract yourself by focusing on the task at hand: cleaning up the living room from the party's remnants. You made your way over to the coffee table, picking up the empty plates, the two drinks for you and Simon, and the now cold popcorn.

You took a deep breath, feeling the familiar scent of butter and salt waft up from the table, and started to gather everything up.

As you worked, you couldn't help but think about what Simon was up to in the bedroom. You didn't want to know, but the silence was deafening, and you couldn't help but wonder.

'Maybe he's finally sleeping...' you sincerely thought.

After cleaning up the living room, you made your way to the kitchen, your feet dragging against the hardwood floor with each step. You opened the fridge and grabbed a light alcohol, pouring yourself a glass as you made your way to the countertop.

You sat down, swirling the liquid around in the glass, then taking a slow sip. The familiar taste of alcohol burned in your throat, sending a shiver down your spine.

You closed your eyes, feeling the headache coming on, and massaged your temples. Your mind felt tired, your body felt heavy, and all you wanted to do was slip into bed and sleep.

You took another small sip and sighed, feeling a little bit better as the alcohol began to take effect.

Suddenly, a hand gently touched your arm, making you jump. "What-" you muttered to yourself.

You turned to face Simon, who was standing behind you. He looked exhausted, with red eyes and bags under them. He couldn't look at you in your eyes after that and so he resorted to lean himself closer to you when he noticed that you eased your body to him, obviously calm with him touching you after the argument you guys had.

"I'm so sorry," he said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to say those things. I was just so angry, and I didn't think about how much they would hurt you."

His voice cracked as he spoke, and you could feel the sincerity in his words. You could also feel your heart breaking all over again at the thought of the things he had said, even though it was clear that he was truly sorry.

"I know it doesn't make it right, but I just wanted to apologize," he continued, his tone softer than you've ever heard before. "I shouldn't have let my anger get the better of me like that."

Despite your hurt, you found yourself nodding. "It's alright, Si'." You replied, eyes averting away from him. With a sigh, you took a sip from your glass. "Everyone has their moments, hun."

"Can we just start over?" he asked gently, reaching out to touch your hand. "I'm sorry, I... I just want us to be happy..."

Your gaze met his, and even though it was filled with regret and remorse, you could still see the love and care in his eyes. You knew that he meant every word he said, and that he would do anything to make things right between the two of you.

"I'm..." You said softly, reaching out to take his hand in yours. "willing to try, sweetheart..."

As you sat beside Simon, taking in his words of apology, you felt a pit form in the bottom of your stomach. You had wanted to hear those words from him for so long, to know that he was truly remorseful for the pain he had caused you.

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn't quite escape the feeling of hurt that still lingered.

"I'm willing to try, for us." You continued so softly, your voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "I know it takes a lot to admit when you're wrong, and I appreciate you doing that."

You reached out, taking hold of his hand in yours, trying to convince yourself that everything was going to be okay. But deep down, you still felt the pain of his words, and you weren't sure if you could ever truly forgive him.

"I can't deal with this right now."

You had buried your true feelings deep inside, hiding them in the dark, just for his comfort. And in that moment, you didn't know which way was up.

Just for his comfort? What about yours?

The silence stretched between you and Simon, a small part of you wanting him to say something to make it better, to make it all go away. But he merely looked at you, his expression a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice filled with sincerity. "I know it won't be easy, but I'm ready to do whatever it takes to make things right between us over and over again."

You wanted to believe him, to feel the hope and love that you had once shared. You really do.

But the pain still lingered, a constant reminder of the broken promises and the tears that had come before.

You sat in silence for a few moments, processing Simon's phrases. His words sounded sincere, and you wanted to believe that he was genuinely sorry for the hurt he caused you.

But you can't shake the feeling that you may never be able to fully forgive him.

Simon reached out and took your hand in his, and you couldn't help but notice the warmth in his touch. His voice was steady, soft, with a hint of tenderness that sent shivers down your shoulders.

"Say, love?" He called out to you. "Do you want to go and have that movie night again? 2.0?"

You were caught off guard by the proposal, and your eyes widened in surprise. "I..."

You had been expecting to spend the evening alone, nursing your wounds and attempting to forget the hurt in your heart. The thought of going back to that place was excruciating, but the look on Simon's face was one of pure determination.

He wanted to make it up to you, and he was willing to do whatever it took. You hesitated before speaking, not wanting to give in to the emotions that were racing through your mind.

"Do you really want to?" You asked, turning your face away from him as tears began to form at the corners of your eyes.

You had been trying so hard to stay strong, but your heart ached with the realization that you still loved him, despite the hurt and betrayal.

'God, were you just so pathetic.' A voice in your head echoed.

"Of course, sweetheart," he replied, his tone gentle and full of affection. "I want to make it up to you. Please, let me prove it to you."

Despite your doubts and insecurities, you nodded slowly, allowing yourself to be overcome by the overwhelming love you felt for him.

"Let's do it," You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

You can't believe it, can't believe that you would really put him first than yourself. You can't believe that you considered the proposal just because Simon's words and actions spoke volumes to you.

You could see the determination in his eyes, and the way he looked at you made your heart ache. You had been so torn apart by his previous actions, the thought of him trying to make it up to you and showing he cared about you brought you even more glumness.

You watch as Simon's face broke into a wide smile, and he reached out to take your hand again, exclaiming, "Fantastic! You won't regret it, love. Let's make it the best movie night we've ever had!"

The movie became a haze, and you barely spoke a word, lost in the emotions that were running through you as you sought out comfort in the awkward room.

Save from Simon's often comments about the movie, it was just your thoughts swimming around. It was quiet. It was making you feel self-conscious.

But you wouldn't want to upset him, god, was it so wholesome trying his best to make it up to you. You couldn't afford to do something that might impact this negatively. So you stayed quiet, only answering in small replies to his comments about the movie.

Even though you were with Simon, you felt like you were alone. You were battling thoughts and feelings that would take over if you let them. But you were holding on for Simon, not wanting to break what you guys have in this moment.

You appreciated his efforts but it was hard to forget what happened. You wanted to let it go but it was still so fresh and raw.

The silence was deafening but you didn't want to break it with how you were feeling. You were still processing what happened and didn't want to burden Simon anymore than he already was. So you stayed quiet, watching the movie with Simon and trying to distract yourself from your thoughts.

So you sat silently next to Simon, watching the movie in front of you as he blabbered on and on about the movie. At this point, you don't even give a shit at watching it anymore.

You tried not to let your thoughts wander to the things that were weighing on your mind, not wanting to ruin the peaceful moment. It was so hard to keep up the façade, though.

You knew that if you let even a little of the sadness seep through, it would be so hard to keep it all contained in the face of his concern. It was so nice to have him by your side, but the thought of him seeing how much you were hurting just made everything worse.

So you stayed quiet, trying to keep your emotions in check. Then, you felt a lump forming in your throat. You were unsure of how to move forward from here.

And what will happen onwards? Like nothing had happened?

Suddenly, the silence was broken by Simon's voice. "Hey," he muttered, his eyes fixed on you now. "What's wrong?"

You swallowed hard, feeling your emotions welling up inside. "It's nothing," You dryly replied. "I just zoned out is all."

You wanted to tell him how much his words had hurt, but the words refused to come. Instead, you just sat there in silence, staring at the floor, your heart pounding in your chest.

Simon seemed to sense your discomfort, and his expression softened. "I know I have a lot of things to work on," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I promise I'm going to do better. For you."

His words seemed to fall flat against your ears, almost lost in the overwhelming pain you felt. You wanted to believe him, to believe that things could get better, but a part of you was still unsure.

The silence filled the room again, thick with the weight of your emotions. You wanted to say something, to tell him how you felt, but you just couldn't. Instead, you remained there, silent, feeling the loneliness settle around you like a blanket.

Tears started to well up in your eyes as the words and emotions started to bubble up from inside you. You tried to hold back the tears, but they just kept overflowing, streaming down your face.

"Simon," you managed to say through choked sobs, the words barely intelligible. "I don't know how to say this, but I just can't keep it all inside any longer. You've hurt me so much earlier, over and over again. And I know I've probably hurt you too, but it's just that I can't seem to fix it. I feel like I've tried everything, but nothing works."

Your voice was shaking with emotion as you spoke, the words coming out like a river. You weren't sure if Simon was listening, but you kept talking anyway, the tears streaming down your face.

"I feel so hopeless," you managed to utter, the words catching in your throat. "I don't know if we can ever make this work. But I love you so much, Simon, and I want to try. I want to try so hard, because I know there's something between us that's worth fighting for. I just don't know what to do. I don't know anymore."

The silence filled the room again, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. You were left feeling vulnerable and exposed, with nowhere to hide.

You continued to say how you felt, the pain in your heart pouring out with every word.

You told Simon about how much his words had hurt you, how his refusal to listen to your thoughts and feelings made you feel like a burden to him. You couldn't help but wonder what you had done wrong to deserve such treatment.

As you talked, the tears fell from your eyes, each one representing the pain that you had been holding inside for so long. As you cried, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders, a weight that had been dragging you down for far too long.

"I've been trying so hard to show you how much I care," you sobbed. "I don't know why it's not enough. What else can I do to make you see me? To make you understand that I love you, and that I'll do anything to make this work?"

As you finished speaking, you fell silent, the tears still streaming down your face. The room was filled with a heavy silence, the only sound the soft sob of your breath. You felt a sense of exhaustion wash over you, as if all the emotions you had been holding back had finally been released.

The silence continued to fill the room, and for a moment it seemed as though time itself had stopped. Neither of you spoke, and it was as though the weight of your words hung in the air between you.

After what felt like an eternity, Simon reached out and took your hand. His touch was warm and comforting, and it seemed as though some part of him understood the pain that you were feeling.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I never meant to hurt you like that. I just got caught up in my own thoughts, forgetting how important you are to me- which is a pretty damn shit move. I'm really sorry, darlin'."

You looked up at him, tears still streaming down your face. You wanted to believe him, to believe that he truly understood the pain that you were feeling. But you couldn't shake the fear that it was all just a temporary moment of kindness, and that soon enough he would go back to treating you the way he had before.

You didn't want to get hurt again, but you couldn't help but hope that this time might be different.

Maybe this time, he truly did understand...

Simon reached out and gently wiped away your tears, his touch providing a small measure of comfort.

You watch as tears pooled into his eyes too, but he still continued, "You're not a burden, my love, and you never have been. Fuck, I'm so sorry. I'm the fucking asshole here. I want to show you that.. that I can make things right."

Simon's voice was hoarse with emotion as he spoke, his words barely above a whisper. He couldn't believe what he'd done to you, how he'd hurt the person he loved the most. He hated himself for the pain he'd caused, and he cursed himself out for not being able to do better.

As you watched, tears pooled into his eyes as well, his emotions rising to the surface. But despite the pain he was feeling, he was determined to make things right. His love for you was stronger than any mistake he could make.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his voice shaking with emotion. "You deserve so much more than what I've given you. I want to make things right, to show you that I love you, more than anything else."

His words seemed to echo in the room, filling the space between you with all the love and guilt that Simon was feeling in that moment. You watched as he wiped away his own tears, his determination burning bright in his eyes.

For a moment, there was silence, as you both stared at each other, overwhelmed with the weight of everything that had been said and done. But then, slowly, you reached out and took his hand in yours, and you knew that despite everything, you were both willing to fight for your love, to make things work.

You felt a small spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he truly did mean it this time. Maybe, despite the hurt and disappointment of the past, there was a chance for something better.

"I believe you," you said softly. "But I need you to show me. I need you to put in the effort... to try."

As you finished speaking, Simon could only watch as tears continued to stream down your face. The guilt and remorse weighing heavily on his shoulders was almost too much to bear.

How could he have let you down like this, after all you had done for him? After everything you guys had been through together?

He wanted nothing more than to turn back the clock and make everything right, to show you that you meant more to him than anything else in the world. But he knew that it would take more than just words to convince you that he was telling the truth.

Simon would have to show you with his actions, prove to you that he truly was committed to making this relationship work.

"I promise," He said through gritted teeth, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise to do whatever it takes to make this work, to show you that I love you no matter what. I'm sorry, my love, sorry for all the pain I've caused you. Fuckin' hell... I'm going to make things right, I promise you."

As he spoke, his resolve only grew stronger, his determination stronger than ever.

"Don't cry anymore, pretty girl."

He might not deserve your forgiveness, but he was going to do damn everything to earn it. Even if it meant fighting tooth and nail, even if meant facing his greatest fears and demons.

Because in the end, you were all that mattered to him. And Simon would do whatever it took to mend this relationship.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

A/N: now that we've made up, i can now sleep peacefully 🙏🙏 i hope you’ve all been enjoying the second part of this. i have to say though,, your support and enthusiasm has been overwhelming, and it means the world to me to know that you’re all enjoying my work <//3 this has been the heaviest fic ive ever written holy shit. listening to nbhd songs to this, esp this playlist, is such a vibe !! i couldnt stop rereading all this and crying my ass off on repeat 😘😘

special mentions <//3 . @mockerycrow @pandoramyst @monanight @casualunknownrunaway @invaderzim13 @xsoftdead18 @colorfulbanditempathhero-blog @aliilium @rhyanna6012 @ghostlythots @duskwo0d @b1rds3ye [ thank you guys for loving this lil silly fic of mine and for the supports, really, i am like so over the moon that y'all liked it ! thank you so much for your patience and support while waiting for the p2. i'm so grateful that you've been willing to stick with it, and i really appreciate all the comments you've given me along the way. i rlly hope this brings you all the comfort you guys were looking <3 ]

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