#I’m not bothered by it at all and I’m not gonna force myself to be involved when they don’t want me there but all the parents(mine included)

[cordiformity]

really dreading the annual tri-family camping trip this yearrrrr

[mangoposts]

Fuck me like you mad at me baby

C.S 🔞

The apartment was silent with only the sounds of Chris and I’s phones echoing around the living room. Him on tiktok and me on instagram reels,

“Chris, lower your volume i can’t hear my own video.” I say this despite putting myself to sit directly next to him, leaning my head on his stomach while we lay on the couch.

“Lower your attitude.” He complies anyway, lowering the volume. I chuckle at his comment before putting my phone down, deciding i want to bother him further. I grab his phone from his hands and put it next to mine, watching as he flutters his eyes shut and lays his head back against the couch in annoyance. “Y/n,” he mumbles into the air and sticks his hand out, “Give it.” I grin while thinking about how easy it is to tick him off, and then get an idea to see how far I could take it with him. “No.” I laugh, holding both his and I’s phones in my hand behind my back pressed against the couch. “Y/n, please.” He repeats, his voice is laced with irritation as it usually is when I mess with him like this, but the late hour of the night also took affect in how bothersome this felt to him, he was cranky. But I’m bored and all he and I had done today was lay here on our phones.

“Oh, are you gonna beg me for it?” He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling and then looks down at me, not one hint of amusement behind his eyes the way they were mine. The colour and feeling of them cold as ice while they bore through me as if to say “‘Don’t fuck with me’ . But, I wanted to. Truth be told, Chris is hot all the time regardless of what he does or what he’s wearing, but he was the hottest when he was completely, utterly pissed off with me. When he was mad at me. Nothing more, nothing less. I act unfazed by his death stare and lean my head up from my position on his stomach to straddle his lap and his hands are still by his sides while I reposition, telling me he’s unamused.

I pick up our phones and place them on the coffee table behind me to ensure he won’t try to grab it and then redirect his attention to it again. I then lean in by his ear while placing my hands on his chest,

“Come on, pussy. Beg me.” I bite down on his earlobe taking notice of how goosebumps appear on his skin, and he exhales a deep breath through his nose before i feel his hands on my hips then he returns my actions and places his lips by the skin of my ear.

“I would watch how you speak, smart ass.” In one swift motion, he grips my hips harder and flips us over. My head laying against the cushions and his thighs pinning my lower body down. He grabs both of my wrists into one hand and pins them above my head harshly, restraining me with nothing other than his own strength while his other hand grips my jaw tightly, forcing my lips to gape open. He lowers his head so his face is inches part from mine, my head begins to spin and i feel my teasing act begin to fade the longer he stares into my eyes with not a single sign of dismay, his gaze is cold and taunting and it’s directly in front of me. making me feel small under it while I gulp slightly, still trying not to show signs of my faltering ego. His grip on my jaw or wrists however hadn’t faltered in the slightest, if anything his grip hardened.

“If you make me repeat myself so help me y/n i’ll edge you for months. Open your fucking mouth.”

My breath hitches as lust fills my senses, i feel the wave of heat roll over into my body the moment he stops speaking. I nod quickly and oblige, opening my mouth and sticking my tongue out. Flinching a bit when i feel how roughly he’d spit into my mouth. His hand on my jaw moves to my cheeks and squishes them together, forcing my mouth to close as I swallow his saliva and stare up at him, the smug look on my face is long forgotten.

“Look at how pathetic you are. Asking me to beg for you and now you’re under me, looking as lost and fucked out as a dog before i’ve even thought about touching you.” I let out a slight whimper at his words, proving him right with everything he’d said and for the first time tonight, he looks amused as ever. a smirk making its way onto his face before he lowers his hand to wrap it around my neck, squeezing hard. I gasp slightly and furrow my eyebrows while I look up at him again, the air in my lungs being knocked out almost instantly the moment his hand met my throat. I feel myself get wetter and wetter the longer he has me in this position, pinned down by my arms and neck under him, at his mercy. My head begins to spin and my pussy aches, practically dying to be filled by his dick.

“Are you gonna be a smart mouth?” His voice, his voice is deep and condescending, filling my brain with the dirtiest thoughts about him. I want him inside me so badly, i’m willing to do anything to get him to hurry up. I shake my head no, biting my bottom lip as i stare at his. He grins, noticing.

“Gonna be my good little bitch right?” I nod my head before answering with words, knowing that’s what he wants. “Y-yes daddy. Gonna do anything you want.” I feel lightheaded now, with need and with the small amount of oxygen making its way towards my brain. “That’s a good baby.” He releases his grip from my throat and gives me no time to recover before he’s removing my sweatpants and tossing them behind him on the couch then flipping me around again by my waist. He presses down on my head, shoving my face into the cushions while he lifts my hips up and pushes my panties to the side. His fingers practically slipping around my pussy from how wet he’d made me. I moan from the feeling of his fingers in between my folds and try to grind myself down onto his hand, earning a harsh slap to my backside that makes me whine. Chris removes his own sweatpants and drops his briefs to his ankles when he steps off to stand by the couch. Positioning me to arch further off the edge. I feel his wet tip rub against my hot folds teasingly, causing me to let out a cry. He continues rubbing himself against my clit, occasionally slipping his tip inside of me just to pull it out a second later. My chest heaves and I feel my eyes begin to water from how desperate I am, the ache between my legs at an all time high from the amount of teasing. “Chris. Fuck me.” I’m whining like a baby at this point and i couldn’t care less about it, he’d officially drove me up the wall and all I needed now was to feel his thick cock filling me up, feeling every vein pumping in and out of me. “Are you gonna beg me?” He mocks, a groan leaves my lips before i start to lose my mind, I was willing to do anything, anything for his cock.

“Please Chris I need you so badly daddy. I need to feel you. Please.” I gasp when he pushes his dick inside of me, bottoming out completely. My eyes roll to my back of my head and my mouth flung open at the delicious feeling of the stretch. Until I notice he isn’t moving at all. I clench around his dick repeatedly and wiggle my hips to get more friction, my whole body is on fire and I’m about to start screaming when I realize he isn’t satisfied with my words, officially broken before he’s even fucked me, I lost all of my dignity just for him to start fucking me.

“Please, please, please, please Christopher. Please! God I need you so badly, i’ll never mess with you again just pl-“ I’m cut off by my own moan when he pulls all the way out and slams his cock back into me at a steady hard pace. His hands spreading my thighs further and pressing down on my back, causing me to arch my ass up as high as possible while my couch muffles my screams of pleasure. I hear as he lets out rough grunts that match up with his thrusts, his arms reach to grab my hands that are clawing at the cushions beneath me, once again holding both of my wrists behind my back to fuck into me rougher.

My stomach is turning with pleasure and i feel myself get dizzy for the 4th time since we’ve started, my body beginning to shake from the quick building feeling of an orgasm, it’s embarrassing how quickly he’s able to make me release. but with all of the tension and teasing building up to this moment i’ve felt on the edge since the moment we started. “C-Chris. i’m-i’m gonna cum.” I try to speak as loudly as i can from how hard he’s fucking me and my face being pressed down. Hoping he’ll hear me clearly and spare me after doing his fair share of teasing for the night, he doesn’t.

“Nah, beg me. I want to hear you beg for it.” He hits my g-spot repeatedly after he speaks, the tip of his dick so deep inside of me i could feel it moving in my lower stomach. My words die on my tongue as my eyes flutter closed, I so badly want to give him what he wants but I feel frozen with pleasure, my brain completely numb and my chest beginning to burn from how hard i’m breathing.

Chris sucks on his teeth from behind me before reaching down and wrapping his hand around my hair sprawled against my back, pulling on it so harshly to pull me up towards his chest. My head falls against his shoulder and he picks up the pace of his cock inside of me from this position.

“Chris, I- Please.” I try to form words in order for him to allow me to cum but feeling his dick inside of me from a new angle has me spiraling, i’m dangerously close to falling off the edge and Chris is having none of it.

“Is this what you wanted, huh? Me to fuck all of my anger out into your pussy? Wanted me to get mad at you so I could fuck you like a whore? Huh?” His mouth is directly next to my ear, he’s practically growling out his words while drilling his length deep inside of me. and his voice is swimming around in my head, echoing throughout my mind like a mantra as my vision begins to get fuzzy.

“Yes Chris, Fuck yes. Yes yes yes yes.” I choke out, his words go straight to my core, pushing me further. I feel tears start to stream down my face at how badly I need to cum, with all of his teasing beforehand and now going nonstop my body is past overwhelmed.

“Do you want to cum, slut?” My heart jumps at the thought of finally being able to cum, i nod eagerly and squeeze my eyes shut. More tears falling down my neck.

“Say you’re sorry. Apologize for being such a lil brat.” I let out a high pitched whine and my breathing quickens, his pace hasn’t faltered in the slightest, still ramming his dick into me at an ungodly pace now while one of his hands is keeping its grip onto my hair to hold my head back against him, his other hand making it’s way around my waist to rub my clit in circles.

“Shit-shit, Chris. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. I’ll n-never act like that a-again i’m sorry daddy. Please. Please forgive me. Pl-please let me cum.” I’m at my most desperate point, my whole body is tense and i could just die if he denies me any longer than this,

“Cum.”

Spots of white cloud my vision the second i hear the words fall from his lips, my mouth hangs wide open as i let out high pitched pornographic moans. My eyebrows are so deeply furrowed it’s causing me a headache and i feel my body going limp as he shoots his own load inside of me. Chris grabs my waist before i could fall and lays me onto the couch, pulling out of me and flopping down next to me. Our breathing is synced, both heavy and desperate for air as our energy dissipates into nothingness. I sit up straight and Chris follows my actions, sitting next to me with both of our bottom halves being completely bare and sweaty. The apartment is now filled with noises of our panting and sips of the water bottle we’d left on the table in front of us.

“I forgive you. Now hand me my phone”

2 lil taggies: @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie

[evie-sturns]

brat - Chris Sturniolo

summary: after a day of shooting chris bratty, and rude comments, he finally puts you in your place.

contains: brat tamer!chris, smut, overstimulation, choking, fluff, aftercare, dumbification.

----------------------------------------------------------

i grip chris's hand tight as we walk around target, "i want to go home chris." i state with a small pout,

"baby i told you we need to get stuff for the wednesday video." chris sighs, squeezing my hand.

"it's not like its my channel! i got dragged here by you." i bite back at him, chris's eyebrows furrow with a shocked laugh.

"don't fucking act like you weren't clinging to me an hour ago, you wouldn't let me leave the house." chris shuts me up pretty quick, i roll my eyes with a frustrated sigh.

he stops walking at looks down at me, "don't roll your eyes at me."

i scoff, chris raises his eyebrows at me as a warning before pulling me towards the checkout by my hand.

i wrap my arms around chris as he pays,

he hooks the several bags over his fingers before following close behind me as we walk out of the main exit.

chris and i walk towards matt's car which is parked in the parking lot, chris swings open the back door before jumping in,

"did you get the shit?" matt asks before turning the car on,

"yeah, most of it." chris replies before scooting closer to me in the backseat.

“chris!! you’re basically crushing me.” i whine, chris shoots me a warning glare as matt pulls out of the parking lot.

chris places a gentle hand on my thigh, i look out the window with my arms crossed over my chest.

“are you tired?” chris asks softly, i don’t reply, keeping my eyes trained on the passing cars out the foggy window.

i hear chris let out a small frustrated sigh, him and matt start up a conversation which continues for the rest of the trip.

-

i swing open the door to chris and i’s room, instantly flopping down on the bed. chris follows close behind me into the room and stands by the bed, just looking down at me.

i stare at my phone as i make myself comfy in his pile of pillows.

“y/n.” chris stares blankly, his voice low.

i ignore him, staring at my phone.

“i’m not gonna ask you again.” chris says under his breath before i feel 2 of his cold hands grip my ankles.

he tugs me by my ankles to the edge of the bed in one harsh tug.

“chris!” i whine,

“don’t fucking whine at me.” he mutters,

his hand finds its way onto my waist, in one movement he flips me over onto all fours.

i feel his hands tugs on the waistband of my sweatpants before he pulls them completely off of me

i look back over my shoulder at chris, adjusting my position on all fours.

he tugs my panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely,

“chris-“ i start, but i’m cut off by a harsh smack to my ass, hard enough to leave a mark.

i wince slightly, somewhat in shock from how chris managed to get me from my comfortable position on his bed, to on all fours wearing absolutely nothing from the waist down.

i hear the clink of chris’s belt hitting the wooden floor, followed by his jeans.

“gonna act like a brat, gonna be fucked like one.” chris says from behind me before tugging his boxers off.

“i’m not being a brat!” i protest.

just then i feel chris’s pink tip line up with my slit, wet with arousal.

chris slams into me full force, his tip bruising my cervix.

a mix between a moan, a scream, and a gasp exits my mouth at once, overwhelming pain but pleasure coasting through me.

his thrusts instantly start, giving me no time to stretch around him.

each thrust i feel him hit deeper.. and deeper.

“arch your back.” chris demands, placing a palm on my back and pushing it down.

i bury my face in the pillow, not wanting matt to hear my desperate screams.

i hear chris let out a low laugh from behind me as if his dick isn’t brutally abusing my insides right now.

“chris- chris slow down-“ i manage to babble out incoherently,

“you think you deserve it? for me to slow down?” chris spits back,

his hand collides with the plush skin of my ass again.

“do you?” he asks again, i shake my head frantically into the pillow.

“that’s what i thought, so don’t go asking me to slow down.” he mumbles with a small groan.

he continues to hit impossibly deep spots,

i let out a loud gasp as i feel chris’s cold hand shaking round to my neck,

his large hand takes a grip on my throat,

his other hand pulls my hair into a makeshift ponytail before he tugs on it, forcing my head out of the pile of pillows.

he grips my throat as he tugs on my hair, my back contorted into a deep arch.

tears well in my eyes from the intensity, not to say i’m not enjoying every second of this.

the only sounds in our room are skin slapping together harshly paired with my muffled moans.

my legs shake dramatically as i attempt to kick them, my hands grip the bedsheets for dear life as i feel chris’s cock against my walls.

with a pathetic scream of his name i clench around him, releasing all over his length. his grip on my throat tightens as i assume he gets close.

“i didn’t tell you to cum.” chris huffs,

“say you’re sorry.” he follows up.

“i’m- i’m so s-sorr…” i babble out,

tears are now flowing down my cheeks from overstimulation.

my eyes roll back as chris’s thrusts somehow quicken.

with a slick pop chris pulls out quickly, he paints my back with warm white streaks.

“oh- oh fuck- fuck…” chris groans as he strokes himself a few more times.

i face plant forwards into the sheets, chris collapses next to me.

chris lays on the bed for a few seconds before springing up, he tugs me onto his lap and wraps his large arms around me.

“no- no don’t cry love.” chris says with a nervous laugh.

“did i hurt you? are you hurt princess?” chris fires rapid questions at me, i shake my head no and i can physically see the relief wash over chris.

“no more tears,” chris breathes out, wiping my eyes gently.

“that was- so intense..” i breathe out with a small smile.

“i’m sorry baby, i’m sorry.” chris pecks kisses over my damp face.

he wipes my back with his hand, his face grimacing.

“i’m sorry.” chris whispers again, “chris.. it’s okay, i really.. really liked it.” i say with a shy grin.

“are you sure? i’m sorry, i think i just got worked up” chris apologies for the hundredth time.

“i’m sure chris, stop apologising.” i laugh, fixing his messed up hair.

he runs his hands through my locks, “did it hurt when i pulled your hair?” chris asks, visible nerves on his innocent flushed face.

“no chris.” i laugh, chris nods “okay thank god.”

chris picks me up as he stands up, holding me in a bridal position.

“what do you feel like wearing?” he asks, “maybe- just something of yours” i reply

“okay!” chris says, pulling out one of his sweatshirts and some of his sweat-shorts.

chris places me down on my feet, my legs wobble as i stumble over.

“oh-“ he picks me back up,

“my legs are like jelly.” i smile.

“sorr-“ chris starts but i clamp a hand over his mouth,

“no more sorrys!” i laugh.

chris shakes his head with a giggle.

he plops me down on the bed and tugs the shorts up my legs.

“arms up sweetheart.” chris says before pulling his shirt onto me.

chris stands up and walks over to his closet and pulls on some sweatpants.

“there we are.” chris smiles.

“you look good!” chris

“you look like a moron.” i state with my arms crossed.

i slam a hand over my mouth, realising i’ve just gave chris attitude.

“what was that?” chris laughs,

“nothing.” i purse my lips together.

“am i going to have to fuck that attitude out of you again?” chris asks

i shake my head, my cheeks now a deep red.

———

@gabrielle-brun1 @ilovemymannnnnnnn @sturnioloxlver @buckys-goodgirl @sturniol0s @mattybsgf @stupid4sturniolo @lydi2718 @chrisstopherfilmed2 @flosslikeabosss @zturndq @skysturniolo @jetaimevous @sturniolo04 @luxy-nyx @aliceloveschris @livvy4realll @chrissturnsss @ilovemymannnnnnnn @chr1sgirl4life @luanetaluenta @sturnsssbow @mattfangirl @luvr4miya @luvtay111 @lolasturniolo @freshloveforthefit @ruedowney @lovingchrissposts @333michelle @h3arts4harry @sonicmacks @jamiesturniolo @chrisstopherfilmed @itzdarling @sturniolo-simp4life @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @ev3rgreenxtrees @lovergirl4387 @certifiednatelover @solarsturniolo @mattsenthusiast @yomamaslays4lyfe @peachmels @alinaa131 @pepsiluvr0209 @creamoncreamoncream2 @szobofc @mattscoquette @blahbell668 @sturniolo04 @ecilphttlunar @bitchydragonparadise @thematthewlover @sturni0l0 @ratatioulle @sturnsfav @chrisgetsmewetterxo @mattsonly @justalittle47 @mattsturnioloisbae@sunsetsturniolos @sturniolo04 @similartokayyz @pkfferoo @sturnsintrouble @ilovemattsturn @raysmayhem-72 @75sturn @sturniol0s @secret-sturniolo @hfkeclnendmwodne @sturniolosass @gxldenlush @stonermattsgf @101sara @beccaluvschris @oliviasturniolo21 @imwetforyourmom @tylerstacobell @sunsetsturniolos @aliceloveschris @jayz4dayz4 @sassysturniolo2008 @nyktoxs-lover @nathandoesgf @starsturns234 @chrissturnsss s @joemamaaa42069 @sturnthepot @zayyluvz @realuvrrr @livialifesblog @sturnioloblogs @riowritesitall @raysmayhem-72 @mattlvrr @downbad4reid @austejasz @faygo-frog @certifiedstarrr @flosslikeabosss @mattybismyman @skysturniolo @jetaimevous

[dix0nspretty]

Knives, Bikes, and Stitches, Oh My!

Summary: Daryl is working on his motorcycle and you watch. Too bad you can't keep your focus.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader, 1.3k words

Era: Prison (again) because he's just so yummy...

TW: Mention of blood and stitches. Maybe chronic horniness?

Y'all loved my first story and I hope this one whets your appetites just as well! I have no idea how motorcycles or vehicles of literally any kind work, so please feel free to educate me in the comments.

You put the fear of God in Daryl every time he sees you with a knife.

It’s not that you can’t use one. On the contrary, you’re a force to be reckoned with when you’re fighting. Sometimes all that can be seen of you in a fight is the shine of blood-tinged metal as you slash and stab at whatever is attacking with your twin blades. No, your knives are comfortable and at home in your grip. Maybe too comfortable.

“How many times I got to tell ya to stop eatin’ off yer damn knife?” Daryl’s rough accent sounds out in the empty courtyard. His head is bowed low as he works on his bike, not looking up as he speaks.

I’m perched on the tabletop of one of the prison’s picnic tables eating a can of peaches. Daryl, for some reason unknown to me, had elected to start taking his bike apart and putting it back together and I followed along to watch the process. I don’t know shit about vehicles, much less motorcycles, but I like spending time with the grumpy man.

“It’s fine, I’m not gonna cut myself.” I tell him as I tilt my head down to drag a slice of peach off the blade. Daryl’s eyes don’t move from the work in front of him, but I can feel him watching me. I pull the chunk into my mouth and lick the blade clean of the sticky juice.

“Told ya to cut it out.” I’m eating the canned fruit haphazardly, not paying any attention to how close I am to the edge. Daryl shakes his head. He knows it’s a matter of time before I cut my lip or tongue.

At his repeated command, I roll my eyes but pull away from the edge of my knife. I set the can of peaches down and watch him. His brown hair is getting longer now and it’s sliding down into his eyes, shielding most of his face from my watchful gaze.

“What are you doing, anyways?” I ask. I scoot myself closer to the edge of the table and peer down over his shoulder. He has one of his tools in his hand and some pieces of metal I can’t identify. It is roughly the size of my fist and cylindrical. Whatever it is, it looks important.

Daryl glances over his shoulder, feeling my curious eyes looking down. He huffs and continues his task. “Workin’.”

“No shit. Working on what?” I’m playing with my knife in my fingers, absentmindedly twisting and flipping it. Daryl looks up at me through his hair, squinting one eye against the sunlight. My breath catches in my throat, and I try to play it cool.

“Do ya really want to know or are ya jus’ bored?” He asks in his gruff voice. I don’t answer for a second. He looks so pretty. Get a grip, Y/N, I think to myself.

“Really want to know. Come on, I don’t know anything about bikes. Teach me something.” Daryl squints at me for several seconds longer and I’m convinced he’s going to send me inside to bother someone else, but he slowly starts talking.

“’M cleanin’ the carburetor.” He tilts his hand up to show me the same piece I was looking at earlier. “It’s startin’ to get clogged.”

“Oooookay. What’s that do?”

“It keeps the engine runnin’ smooth, basically. Don’t keep it clear and that can fuck up the bike, make it stall or overheat. Gotta take it apart and clean it every few months.”

Daryl lets me watch over his shoulder as he points out different parts of the carburetor and how to clean them. After a few minutes, his gruff voice starts to fade out and my mind begins to wander.

He just looks so good. His hands are greasy and dirty from all of his work today and his biceps are sweaty from the Georgia heat. He’s wearing one of his simple black shirts that already fit him so well and the sweat is only making him look more delicious. I’m watching his hands work over the small brass jets when I feel burning heat in my palm and look down.

I’d been messing with my knife the entire time and cut myself. I instinctively let go of the blade and it hits the concrete with a harsh clang. Daryl’s head lifts at the noise and he spins around right as I rush to tuck both hands behind my back. I look like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar and I’m trying to hide the chocolatey evidence. Except this time, it’s blood.

Daryl’s eyes run over me for a second, then flick down to my knife as it sits on the dirty floor. He slowly bends down and picks it up. “Y/N.” He starts, a low warning in his tone.

“It’s fine! I’m fine, I just dropped it.” My voice rambles out. There’s a high, nervous note to it and I’m hoping to God he doesn’t notice.

He raises an eyebrow. “If yer fine, why’s the knife got fresh blood on it?” Fuck.

“Uhhhhh.” I look around the courtyard, trying to find an excuse. I, naturally, see nothing. “Magic?”

Daryl huffs and crosses his arms. “Let me see your hands.”

I wince. I don’t want to get in trouble, but I can feel the blood dripping off my hand, and it stings. The longer I hold off showing him the angrier he’ll get.

“Y/N. Hand, now.” Daryl’s voice leaves no room for arguments.

“Jus’, don’t be mad?” I ask. He says nothing and I sigh, then slowly move my hands back in front of me. The blood is quickly evident on my skin.

“God damn it, girl. Why can’t ya ever listen to me?” Despite his rough tone, his hands are gentle as he takes my wrist and tilts my hand, inspecting the damage. I risk a glance at my hand. There’s a slash across my entire palm and more blood than there should be. It’s going to need stitches.

“Ya need stitches.” Told you.

 Daryl looks up from my hand but doesn’t let go of my wrist. His eyes lock with mine and he gives me a warm look. There’s exasperation and concern and I don’t know what to do with it. He takes a surprisingly clean rag from his pocket and ties it around my bleeding palm, firmly but not enough to hurt.

I can’t help but be surprised by just how gentle he’s being with me. I was expecting a pop in the side of the head and a banishment to Hershel’s cell. I look up at him through my lashes, waiting for my verbal lashing. After almost a minute, I realize there is none.

“Does this mean I gotta go in now?” I try to keep the potential disappointment from my voice and don’t entirely succeed.

“Yeah, yer going to go get those stitches. Ya weren’t listenin’ anyways.” He grumbles at me. “The hell were you doin’?”

I look away from him. I do not want to explain that I was too busy being horny over him to notice that I gouged my palm open. I risk a glance at him and I’m caught by those ocean-blue eyes.

“I was watching your hands…”

Daryl pauses, then snorts. “Maybe instead of watchin’ my hands ya should’ve been watching yours. Go get your damn stitches and I’ll show ya somethin’ else.”

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Mine

Luke Castellan x Reader

Requested by: @officiallenalove like imagine the reader is like a daughter of Poseidon and we know he’s not around most of the time and she meets Luke and they like fall in love but she’s never known what healthy love looks like so it’s low key angsty but happy at the same time yk?

Summary: "You are the best thing that's ever been mine"

Warning: crappy parents, angst, self doubt

Word Count: 2k

Masterlist

A/N Sorry this took so long I had a hard time choosing which lyrics/moments I wanted to write

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter

Godly parents were always deadbeats. It was just a fact of half-blood life. But after spending years thinking I had no father, I was thrilled to have been claimed by Poseidon. It was naïve of me to think that just because he claimed me he’d be a good father just because I knew of his existence. I spent night after night praying to him, looking for some sense of guidance from him but never receiving anything. Eventually I learned not to bother with him or anyone else.

My mom had let me down enough times that I knew it wasn’t just gods that let you down. When she finally told me about my father she told me I’d be moving to a strange place. Not for my safety but because she didn’t want to take care of the daughter of the god that broke her heart. She complained endlessly on the drive over that my father never even bothered to offer her immortality, rather last she heard of him he was falling in love with another woman on Long Island.

She was dead to me after she dumped me at camp with hardly a goodbye. And then my father was dead to me when I begged for his help but received nothing.

~

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin' / Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

Most of the other campers felt the same about their godly parents but it seemed like the only one who really understood was Luke.

“I mean, it’s like we’re nothing to them,” Luke ranted to me. We rant to each other a lot. “We’re just byproducts of their mistakes.”

“Gods, I hate men,” I groaned, lying back in the grass of the green. “Are all fathers this shitty?” I asked, looking up at Luke. I squinted into the sun as I peered at him accusingly. He moved his hand to block the sun from my eyes.

“I wouldn’t know from personal experience but I wouldn’t be this shitty,” he smiled cheekily down at me. He moved to lay back too, resting on his elbow. “I’d never abandon you.”

I could feel my chest tighten and I hoped it wasn’t apparent on my face. I just laughed, gently pushing his chest in a playful manner, hoping I was sparing him any embarrassment by making him think I thought he was joking. “You wish. You’d probably leave once the first diaper change comes.” I couldn’t even begin to consider loving him—or anyone—enough to feel abandoned by him. Thanks to my parents I felt more than enough abandonment.

He gave me a forced laugh as I sat up. “Yeah probably. I’d just be the fun dad.”

~

Do you remember, we were sittin' there by the water? / You put your arm around me for the first time

Later that day I found myself sitting on the beach of the Long Island Sound. The ocean was always sort of a sore spot for me because it was just a reminder of my father but it still felt calming. Like I belonged despite my father’s indifference.

As I stared out into the sound, zoning out, I let my mind wander to the conversation I had with Luke. That wasn’t the first time he had tried to hint at his feelings and he was a great guy but I couldn’t trust him. I didn’t have faith that he—or anyone for that matter—wouldn’t just let me down. How could I trust I wouldn’t let him down.

I was interrupted from my thoughts by the man himself. “Hey, can we talk?” he asked, coming to stand next to me. I just wordlessly gestured for him to sit next to me. He complied, taking a few breaths before looking at me. “I’m just gonna come right out and day it: I like you,” he rushed. “You don’t have to like me back or anything but I need to know that you know.”

I stared at him, my mouth agape. I hadn’t expected his boldness. “Um…” I had to take a second to structure my thoughts. “Luke, you’re a great guy. Any girl would be lucky to have you but you don’t want me.”

“Actually, I do I just said it,” he chuckled, trying to release some tension.

I laughed with him. “No, I mean I don’t think I can give you what you want. I’m not the best with feelings and I’m not entirely convinced that you, and everyone else in my life, won’t just leave me when it’s convenient.”

“Hey,” Luke chided gently, throwing an arm over my shoulder to bring me closer, “I meant what I said I'm not gonna abandon you. And if you’re scared, that’s fine, we can take this slow. If you really just don’t want a relationship that’s fine. I’ll still be by your side no matter what.”

Tears pricked my eyes at how thoughtful and caring he was being. Fortunately he couldn’t see them because my head was resting on his shoulder. “Okay,” I agreed, “I want to try taking things slow with you.” His grip on me tightened as he held me a little closer, like he was so excited you just have to squeeze something.

~

Braced myself for the goodbye / 'Cause that's all I've ever known

Things were great for a few months. Every time I began to doubt our relationship, Luke was there to help me. Giving me constant assurances and telling me how much he loved me. So much so that I started to feel like a burden to him. Like I was just a task he had to get through every week.

“Hey,” Luke announced his presence as he entered my cabin, “I haven’t seen you all day, what’s up?” he asked, looking around the cabin.

“J-just a second!” I called from a storage closet. I quickly wiped my tears and steeled myself, willing myself to look normal. Realizing he’d be wondering why I was in the closet, I grabbed a random blanket from one of the shelves. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out of the closet with a smile. “Hey.”

His face immediately dropped. “What’s wrong?”

Curse my puffy eyes. “Nothing,” I answered. He approached me but I just slid past him, dropping the blanket onto my bunk. “Why?”

“Your eyes are all red. What’s wrong?” he asked again. Once again trying to touch me but I just backed away.

“Must be dust or something in the closet,” I tried to dismiss.

His face hardened. “C’mon, Y/N I know something’s wrong. I don’t want you to hide things from me. I want to take care of you.”

At his words the dam broke and all the thoughts and feelings I had been dealing with bubbled over. “I don't want you to have to take care of me!” A look of hurt appeared on his face and my heart ached for him. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I do. I just don’t think it’s fair to you to have to comfort me whenever anything little happens. It’s pathetic,” I spat at myself.

“Hey, no, you’re not pathetic,” Luke assured me.

“You’re not listening to me,” I insisted. “How can you possibly want to be with me when I do nothing but drain you?” I stared at him, waiting for him to realize that I was a leech and leave for his own sake. But instead, he just looked endeared.

“Y/N, you are the best thing that’s ever been mine. I don’t want you to ever think that you’re a burden to me. I love you and I love that I'm the one who brings you comfort. So please, just let me love you.”

My resolve broke and I went to him, letting Luke pull me into his chest. “What did I do to deserve you?” I cried into the warmth of his chest.

“I ask myself the same,” he returned, pressing a kiss to my head.

Masterlist

[xsublimelimex]

The Shy Little Prince -

CW: Diaper messing & breastfeeding

Disclaimer: all characters depicted in this story are consenting adults over the age of 18. If you are NOT 18 or older, click away now!

He’s doing it again. He’s standing legs spread slightly apart crouched the tiniest bit completely silent. He thinks I haven’t noticed but mommy notices everything when it comes to her little prince. Mommy knows that position means one thing and one thing only, he’s messing his diapie.

He’s so cute all red faced clutching his toy blocks squeezing down as he attempts to make his mess. This is probably his second poop in two hours and I can tell he’s embarrassed but little does he know it’s all mommy’s doing. It’s been three days and he hasn’t made a single mess which of course meant I was worried.

Instead of his usual cranapple juice I subbed it for half prune juice to help get him going and boy has it worked wonders! But I know my baby and I can tell he’s distressed which just doesn’t do.

“Sweetie come sit on mommy’s lap.” I call out to him. He looks over and shakes his head, his thumb slips into his mouth. Oh my poor baby he must be feeling even more little than usual. “Baby boy, come to mommy’s lap it’s okay.” I say as softly as I can hand outstretched toward him.

He hesitates as he slowly makes his way over. His diaper is so full he has the cutest little waddle as he approaches. The scent of his mess makes itself known but he’s my sweetie pie so it doesn’t bother me in fact it makes me so happy to know he’s finally emptied his tummy.

My poor baby was having tummy aches for the past few days and I’m just glad it’s over. He rubs at his tear filled eyes as he stops in front of me.

I pull his thumb from his mouth and his lower lip trembles as tears threaten to spill over his eyes. “Baby what has you so upset? Is it your messy diaper? Is that what has you so distraught?” I ask him softly. He looks away and nods his head.

“I’m sorry mommy, I kept messing myself. I couldn’t hold it” he sobs and covers his face with his hands. His shoulders shake with the force of his sobs and my heart just breaks.

I pull him onto my lap, messy diaper and all. I cradle his head on my shoulder and rub his back. “Sweetie please calm down. Mommy would never get upset with you messing yourself. In fact I love it because it means I’m feeding you well and that your tummy is happy.” I speak softly as I rub my thumb across his cheek.

He looks up at me with tears in his eyes and his his lips pursed in disbelief. “Really mommy? But I’m so stinky now.” He whines and I laugh.

“Well baby boy you won’t be stinky for long because mommy’s gonna clean that cute little butt right up and you’ll be in a clean new diapie in no time. So no need to get so upset right?” I boop his nose and his eyes brighten as a smile overcomes his lips. He nods and pulls at the neckline of my v neck top indicating what he needs at that moment.

“Now I think my sweet little prince needs mommy’s milkies before he can get changed, is mommy right?” I ask in a knowing tone. I pull up my top and pull my large heavy tit out of my breastfeeding bra. He looks at my leaking nipple with hungry eyes as his lips open slightly a bit of drool is already leaking out. My poor baby.

“Open wide my sweet little angel.” His lips spread wider and I slip my nipple into his mouth. He begins to suck hungrily as if it’s his last time suckling on mommy’s tits. I gasp as my pussy clenches. He squeezes my tit sucking up as much milk as he can. He closes his eyes and hums as he drinks and it’s the most pure innocent sight I’ve ever seen. His hand pulls at my other boob so I slip my top of completely and snap my bra off.

He hums in approval eliciting a laugh from me. I stroke his forehead and lean down and kiss it. I moan as his fingers find my other nipple and squeeze it, milk dribbling out. “There you go sweetie, keep suckling on mommy’s tits. Such a good little boy.” He starts whining and wiggling his butt.

His hand goes to the back of his diaper and presses down on his mess squishing it against his butt in an attempt to hold in his poopy. Poor baby needs too poop again but is too shy.

I press down hard on his lower belly and he cries out. I quickly slip my hand down to the back of his diapie pushing away his hand and feel as he pushes out a big mess. He grunts and whines around my nipple as he keeps pushing more out. His diaper getting so full to the point that it’s so pushed out you can see inside a bit. “It’s okay honey you can mess as much as you need mommy will take care of it. You look so beautiful with your forehead all scrunched like that trying to squeeze your poopy out.”

I squeeze it the back of his diaper and smush it against his booty. “Good boy I love when you make messes for mommy.”

He sighs as he pisses his diaper the warmth spreading against my belly as he goes. He closes his eyes and begins suckling even harder finally relaxed after making his mess. “Such a good little boy.” I say quietly as I stroke his hair back as he drinks.

Let me know what you guys think!!

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

[sociorafe]

You telling jj that you’re horny when sitting on his lap?? Maybe shy!reader 🤨 thx babe💗💗

so so sorry it’s taken me ages! hope you enjoy <3

You try not to be embarrassed when you start feeling all hot and bothered in public, but with the way JJ has his hands on your skin it’s hard not to be.

You’re sitting on his lap whilst the other Pogues are perched around the fire. Sticks with marshmallows on the end hanging over the fire as half drunk bottles of beer rest against their ankles.

You fight off the feeling of the growing heat between your legs, but it’s getting hard to ignore and JJ was starting to take notice.

“If you keep moving around you’re gonna get me hard.” He whispered into your ear, not wanting the others to hear the conversation about to go down.

You fight back a whimper. “I can’t help it.”

JJ lets out a low chuckle. “Something bothering you, sweetheart? Tell me and maybe I can help.”

“I need…” you start, but your words drift off your tongue as JJ begins to press featherlight kisses along your neck and jawline. His lips against your skin make you even hotter.

“Hmm?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me.”

You grind on him. The growing hardness under your thighs makes your head swirl. “I need you to touch me, Jay. Really badly.”

JJ lets out a slow laugh, the sweetness of his breath fans over your cheek and you bite your lip. “I’ll do anything you tell me to. Where do you want me to touch you?”

Your eyes dart around you. The others are too deep in a conversation to even notice the sudden shift in atmosphere around you both. May as well get some sort of relief whilst they’re busy.

“Here.” You grab his wrist, bringing it under your t-shirt to your breasts. You silently thank yourself for not wearing a bra. “I want you to touch me here.”

JJ groans deeply in your ear, his cock twitches against your thigh and you teasingly wiggle your hips to make him more flustered. “Since when did you get so confident? Normally you’re my sweet, innocent girl.” His fingers graze over your nipples, sending a shiver down your spine to your toes.

You lean your back against his chest, your hips continue to move in slow circles. The feeling of his length pressed against your backside makes your core clench. “I can’t help myself. You make me so horny.”

JJ presses a wet kiss below your ear. “If you control yourself now, I’ll reward you later.”

“Really?” You stop moving and look over your shoulder at him. His cheeks were turning a pretty pink shade and his pupils were heavily dilated. “You promise to fuck me so good I see stars?”

“Fuck.” JJ grits his teeth. He has to force himself not to excuse the two of you right now. “I promise to fuck you so good you see stars. But later. Right now, I’m gonna enjoy the fire and the feel of you pressed against my cock.”

You bite your lip in anticipation. “Yes, sir.”

[toxicanonymity]

I really think raider joel is my favorite. He’s the worst, he is such an awful person, but he’s so sweet and tender and I really believe he would protect me and keep me safe and just make me his sex prisoner, but in a really cozy domestic way. He’s so hot I can’t think straight. I’d shoot Jack myself for more raider Joel.

Stash House

850 | raider!Joel x f!reader | masterlist

mood board by @milla-frenchy

Requested: @ess-perspective-blog this is your request hope you like it. @swedishscumfuck for the manhandling. @xdaddysprincessxx for the javi clip.

WARNINGS: I8+ dark!Joel, kidnapping, blindfold, very dubcon exhibitionist P in V, violence (toward men), humiliation, Reader can sit on Joel. This is third. Can read alone or Raider Masterlist.

You’re sitting in Joel’s lap in a van full of raiders on the way to their stash house. He didn’t want you sitting next to anyone else.  You're blindfolded so you won’t know the location. Joel's hardness is already digging into you. Then, when they take a dirt road, the terrain bounces you and he swells harder with a deep inhale. His stiff cock vibrates you with the rough ride.  You’re throbbing, so wet you might soak through your pants. Joel holds you firmly on his lap, tight against his chest and belly.  He rests his nose against your neck and inhales. You ride in silence.  The other men obviously have a problem with you being there but are afraid to say anything and rightfully so.  

The van comes to stop and Joel takes off your blindfold.  They start getting out of the van and unloading.  

Finally, one of the men speaks up. 

“Should we really let her in-”  

Joel isn’t having it. “She stays with me and I’m not gonna tell you again.” From what you’ve seen so far, this feels like a generous warning. The man goes quiet. 

Joel wraps a big arm around you and wrangles you inside with your feet occasionally dragging on the gravel.  He doesn’t bother trying to hide his arousal.  He’s like an animal - his virility and ample size are part of his display of dominance.  

-

At the stash house, there are some men who weren't on the raid that day.  Joel forces you into a room that has some old, tattered furniture, contraband and stolen goods strewn about, and a few dirty cots.  Men are milling around talking to each other.  A few faces you haven’t seen before are sitting on the forlorn couch and chairs.  They turn and stare at you like a piece of meat. 

“Nice souvenir,” one of them says and they all stand up. They’re like sharks in the water and you’re chum. Joel’s nostrils flare as the one who spoke approaches. 

He shoves you onto a cot and says “stay put, sweet pea,”  then gets between you and the men and decks the cheeky one in the face, sending him stumbling.  Joel picks him up and holds his shirt while he punches him again then lets him fall to the ground and beats him until his face is bloody. 

“Don’t even think about touchin’ her.” 

You sit on the cot watching, still turned on from the ride.  Joel starts walking back to you, unbuckling his belt, chest rising and falling with rage.   He wraps a strong arm around you and grabs you by the waistband,  manhandling you onto your stomach.  Then he rips your pants down.  

He slides his fingers against your dripping seam and inhales sharply.  “I’m comin, sweet pea hold on” The swollen tip of his cock notches at your entrance, then he slams into you and your mouth falls open with the stretch of his girth.  He backs up half way, then pulls you back on his cock as he plunges further into you and bottoms out with a grunt. 

The men watch, and you try not to look at them, terrified of what Joel might do to you.  You focus your eyes on the haunted stains beneath you.  Joel's massive hand holds onto the edge of the dirty mattress for leverage, another hand on your shoulder as he rails you for the third time today, harder than ever.  Each time he buries his cruel length inside you, the knot in your core tenses more.  

He grabs you by the back of your neck and manhandles you up on your knees, your back arching.He pulls your shirt and bra up over your tits.  “Close your eyes, baby.” You pinch your lids shut and he angles you just slightly toward the men. 

“Fellas, take a good look ‘cause it's your last." 

He gropes your breasts as he brutally pummels you from the back harder, faster, grunting and breathing heavily as his thick cock pistons into you.  One of his hands comes to your clit, then he flattens that hand against you for leverage as he holds his other arm across your breasts.  He slams into you with more power and speed than you could have imagined and his breath becomes ragged. He tightens his grip with both arms, bringing you as close as possible so his power doesn't send you flying.

With a long shudder, he begins to erupt inside you. He slows his pace but plunges into you just as hard, grunting with each pulse.   The pulsation of his cock and the sound of his pleasure sends you over the edge and you fail to suppress a moan.  Your face gets hot with shame, but your climax doesn't stop.  You clench around his hard cock as he fills you with his seed, and these terrible men watch it all.

You catch your breath. He inhales your neck and his hands gently rove your breasts and abdomen as you briefly recover.  He kisses your neck with his mouth closed and whispers, "you did great, baby." 

He fixes your clothes and his, then addresses the men again. "Don't even look in her direction. Understand?"

They murmur their agreement then cower away and Joel lets you rest on the dirty mattress facing away from everyone while they unload their new spoils. 

-

Next: shooting practice drabble; Raider 4: Failed Escape

Thank you for reading and engaging!! Y'all are the best. Also, a couple of other raider Joel requests have def been consistent with where I see it going, it's just that idk if we're there yet so hang tight 😉.

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione

[xazse]

z.. your work is so good im gonna shit myself.

can i pretty please request a bunny girl reader who's just like so clingy? Always begging to cockwarm scara or suck on his fingers while he's working?

AHHSJSAHSJ I WANT TO ANNOY HIM TJLL HE POUNDS ME INTO THE TABLE 🤞🤞

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: I’m so happy when you guys compliment my work it drives me crazy <333 esp comments like that they’re so funny to read.

Pairings: Scaramouche x Bunnygirl!Reader

Tags: Mean Scaramouche!, Throatfucking(with his fingers), and this is def not proofread

Scaramouche sees two bouncy ears in front of his desk: that’s all he sees, his face scrunches up, this is another feeble attempt of yours to scare him and everytime it ends with him catching you in the middle of it and for some reason you still haven’t learned your lesson. He’ll satiate you this time, he hums out loud and your ears stiff and he can hear light giggles.

You finally round the side of his desk and pop up with your nails out and a half attempt at a scary face: Ridiculous. He jumps in surprise and your face lights up a million before more giggles are spilling from your mouth. he focuses back on his work, fingers scribbling away at the various papers that are near due. You filt your head inbetween the gap in his arms and pull your body to sit on his lap.

Not even 10 minutes have passed and you’re already pushing your ass against his crotch, Scaramouche prides himself in not getting worked up so easily so while you futilely bounce he’s just enjoying the view of his poor bunny trying to get off.

Of course you can’t, not without his help a couple more minutes pass of him ignoring you, you can’t tell if he’s laughing when he lets out a breath of air but even that frustrates you and you promptly stand up and walk out, and he doesn’t like that when he calls out to you: you ignore him and even slam his goddamn door?

He assumes you’re embarrassed because the next couple of days you’re avoiding him like the plague but with him returning your energy it doesn’t take long for you to be on the floor, hands leaning on his legs begging for his attention, your long floppy ears downturned in submission, attempting to show him just how sorry you are.

He can also tell by glancing in your eyes that you’re bothered, lusty eyes filled with love for him and just for him, you’re also shifting from side to side in your tight panties. Speaking of said panties they just outline your pretty cunt so good: pressing against your crevices.

He wants to see something, so he stops his writing and offers you a hand, a finger in fact, you don’t waste any time wrapping your greedy lips around it to appease him, here you are sat on the floor like a mutt: sucking on his finger. He lets you do as you want, pulling off to the tip of his finger just to pull back in to the end of his finger, not once have you broke eye contact.

Rough fingers grab your chin with no sense of softness, forcing you to look up towards the ceiling, he pulls his fingers out of your mouth just to push two towards the back of your throat over and over: little cute gags leave your mouth along with whines.

You can practically feel your clit throbbing beneath these suffocating panties, you can’t even attempt to get rid of the pains not until scaras done fucking your throat with his fingers

Finally does he prop you up on his desk, whilst ripping your panties off in the process, he delivers a slap to your cunt to find your soaked. You flinch but eventually lean into it more. He finally unbuckles his shorts and lines himself up with your hole, finding it so good the way you unconsciously suck him in, a hiss leaves his teeth just from the tightness of you alone. You take to humping along his length most likely trying to take control: and he’s having none of that, you’ve made him wait far too long.

He pushes all the way in, in one stroke, Scaramouche is moreso longer than he is thick, it’s not hard for him to already be pressing on your sweet spot, a wanton moan leaves your lips, fingers digging into his desk. He doesn’t let you adjust either, you don’t deserve that right. His thrusts are mean as his hips meet your ass, the slick sounds of your pussy tossed around the room as he uses you like a damn toy. You don’t feel your mind even register his voice as he degrades you.

“Slut, I’ve barely even started and you’re already reduced to nothing.” And nothing your really reduced to, not when he’s bouncing you on his cock.

“Cu-“ “mmmh..”

“Speak properly” he chides, his voice is wavering as he spreads your legs further, giving him an even better angle to fuck you in. He knows you want your clit played with, knows you want his skilled fingers to dance along and push you over the edge already, but he decides against this to drag your orgasm out as long as he sees fit.

[daydreams-after-dark]

Pairing: musician!Han x reader… bartender!chan x reader … security guard!Changbin x reader.

Synopsis: Han asks you to meet him in the corridor at a bar. Chan and Changbin join in for the fun.

About a 7 minute read.

This story is moderately unhinged. Porn without plot.

Unhinged level: 🤡🤡🤡🤡

A/n: I couldn’t sleep the other night and thought to myself “what’s a naughty fantasy I could write about that isn’t realistic in the slightest?” but also not fantasy genre (one day I’ll write a non human Han story, promise).

This is what I came up with. Please be safe when having sex. The following isn’t recommended except in delululand where anything goes. 😜

CW: unprotected p in v sex with multiple strangers in a semi public space (a bar) and ppl see // voyeurism // exhibitionism // sub reader // 3Racha cum dump situation // gagging with underwear// mating press kind of// oral sex m rec// slight degradation- they talk like reader isn’t there // size, stretch kink// mild pain kink// I don’t offer a safe word option in this story but I promise reader wants it all (cos I made her up)// like I said it’s not realistic // if you are uncomfortable with any CW please don’t read.

A/n (again): Okay so now that’s out of the way… the scenario that got me hot and bothered…

Oh and by the way way if you want to be tagged in my after dark content because you’re as filthy as me, please let me know 😘

Really… let’s get started… I’m writing this 3 wines in 🤪 so who knows where we’ll end up. 🫣

You sit on a stool at the bar watching the musician on stage. His name’s Han, and he is singing a love song whilst playing his acoustic guitar. He’s fucking gorgeous and you can’t keep your eyes off him.

The bar itself is pretty empty. There’s the bartender. His name tag says “Chan”, a dozen or so patrons and a security guy pacing the entry way. You’re dressed up far more than anyone else here tonight in your short, tight, stretchy boob tube style dress and strappy stilettos.

Han finishes his song, and apparently his set list because he leaves the stage and some random music comes through the speakers. You turn back to face the bar and concentrate on your drink.

That’s when you feel a hand on your thigh. You turn to see who has the audacity, the nerve, to just come up and do that and find it’s none other than Han himself. Your breath catches in your throat. But he doesn’t actually acknowledge you. He just reaches over the bar, grabs a pen and scribbles something on the back of a coaster and pushes it in front of you. Then after a knowing, silent exchange with Chan, Han is gone.

You look down at the coaster to see a note, an invitation, just for you.

Meet me in the corridor in three minutes.

Corridor? You look around the bar.

“He means the corridor outside the bathrooms.” Chan informs you, like he’s seen this play out before. Oh? So Han does this often? You wonder for half a second, until your feel your pussy throb. You’d better listen to your pussy, you tell yourself.

…..

He’s waiting against the wall outside the bathrooms. Just like Chan said.

You take deep breath and bravely walk up to stand in front of him. He smells intoxicating.

“Hey?” You say quietly.

“Hey, baby.” He replies in a deep, husky voice.

You take a step towards him but in one swift move he turns you around and presses you against the wall.

You cry out in surprise at the forcefulness, then moan into his mouth when he crashes his lips on yours. His hands slide down your sides and then grope your ass as he presses himself against you.

You feel your body spark with arousal as he makes out with you in a rough, urgent way. His hands move down to then reach up under the hem of your dress. He slowly inches it up beginning to expose your ass. You pull away from the kiss and he moves his mouth to your neck.

“M-maybe…we should…take it to the bathroom?” You say.

Han nibbles your ear, his hands cup your bare ass cheeks. “Here’s just fine, baby.” He whispers.

“What?” You yelp.

“I’m gonna fuck you right here, not in a filthy toilet.” He grinds against you again and he’s so fucking hard it makes your cunt ache.

You see two women come out of the ladies room and glance over to where you are in the hall. They throw you an encouraging glance and throw a fist in the air to say “you go girl.”

“W-what about protection? You got something?” You pant. He’s really getting to you, and if he were to touch you right there, he’d know how ready you are for him to fill you with his cock.

His hands pull your dress up further exposing your red thong, and he hooks his hands into the sides of your underwear and peels them down your thighs.

You can hardly believe what’s happening when he’s dropped down momentarily to pick them up off the floor.

“Baby,” his voice is serious as his mouth inches closer to your cheek. “You’re asking too many questions. Just do as I say.” He shoves your panties into your mouth. Your eyes widen in surprise.

“Now listen.” He kisses your neck softly and his hands come back to squeeze at your ass. “I’m gonna fuck you raw.” Another kiss to the corner of your mouth this time. “And I’m not gonna pull out.” He yanks your panties out of your mouth. “You understand?”

Your body feels like jelly. His words are turning you on far too easily. You nod vigorously. “Yes. I understand.” You gasp. The panties are pushed back into your mouth and Han smirks at you.

“You’re such a good girl.” He caresses your body. You’re melting under his touch. “I saw you watching me.” His fingers tease the edge of your pussy. You need him to touch you so bad. You feel a thrill knowing you’re naked from the waist down and your dress up around your waist - In a public hallway for fucks sake. Anyone could stumble across you. It makes your pussy squeeze.

You wrap your arms around his neck and begin to grind yourself against his clothed crotch, trying to get him to touch you already.

He slips his fingers between your legs and slides his finger along your pussy. “Fuck baby. I gotta fuck you right now.”

His hands leave your body to undo his pants and release his cock. You don’t even get to see it because he’s lifting you up and your legs automatically wrap around him. He presses you against the wall at the same time he manages to plunge deep into your cunt. You cry out around the panties in your mouth.

He’s inside of you. Fucking you raw just like he said he was going to. He fucks you deep and slow, leaning in close against you and breathing ragged breaths. “Fuck, you feel good… knew your pussy would feel perfect around my cock.” He panted.

Your eyes roll back into your head as this man you’ve barely exchanged two words with is fucking you better than anyone has in a long time.

A few minutes pass and you’re feeling delirious from the relentless pace Han has built up to and you close your eyes, relishing the feeling of being used like this.

You open your eyes to see two men approaching, and you’re startled for a second until you realise who they are.

Chan and the security guard, Changbin is what his name tag says. Fuck you’re going to be kicked out. Banned for life.

But they’re not here to kick you out. Chan comes up to your left, Changbin on your right.

“So you’ve found Han I see.” Chan notes as he breathes on your cheek.

“She’s an eager one. Look at her with her pussy out on display.” Changbin growls.

“Does she feel good, Han?” Chan asks.

“Fuck, yeah! She’s so tight. Such good pussy.” He pants and thrusts harder causing you to whimper.

Chan and Changbin start to kiss your neck, nip your earlobes, breath hot heavy on your skin. The additional physical contact, and just the scenario itself, makes your core tighten. Your orgasm is approaching, you can feel it building rapidly.

“Fuck, look at her responding! She likes the idea of three guys huh?” Changbin notes.

“Hey Hannie, let’s help you out a bit, yeah?” Chan smirks.

Chan and Changbin hook an arm under each of your legs, holding you up and essentially pinning you to the wall behind you. Your arms automatically hold onto their shoulders, as they continue to bury their faces in your neck.

Han pulls out of you the whole way and takes in the sight before him.

“Fuck! Look at her pussy. It’s dripping.” He says.

The two others look down and moan and curse under their breath. Han runs his hands along your inner thighs, pushing them wider. Chan and Changbin pull your legs out as far as they can and then push your bent knees up higher. It’s like they’re trying to get you into as close as a mating press as possible.

“Han, you should get her tits out too.” Changbin suggests. Han obliges and yanks down your strapless dress, spilling your breasts out. It causes a commotion as their hands start to grope and knead them.

Han steps closer, ready to penetrate you again. “This is gonna be so deep, baby.” He pushes his cock back inside you and cups the underside of your ass for leverage.

It is so fucking deep that you swear you can feel him in your throat. He slams into you time and time again. It hurts, but in the most satisfying way. Tears prickle at your eyes from how good you’re being fucked and then you cry out around your panties as you orgasm.

“Shit…shit…fuck…baby…so…slippery…” Han pistons into you frantically. “Fuck I’m cumming, baby.” You feel his release deep inside you, against your cervix, leaving you both panting as you try to catch your breath.

He pulls out, removes your panties from your mouth and uses it to catch his cum that starts to seep out of your hole. Once he’s satisfied, he balls up the underwear and shoves it back in your mouth.

“My turn.” Says Changbin. He swaps places with Han. They continue to hold you in this position as Changbin lines his cock up with your entrance. He’s thicker than Han and the stretch makes you moan a deep guttural sound.

“Yeah, you like Binnie’s cock, hmm?” Chan cooes. “Didn’t know she’d be such a cockslut when I served her drinks.” He added.

“I could tell.” Han replies and licks the skin on your neck.

You’re loving the way they’re talking about you like you’re not there or can’t hear them.

Changbin sets a slow and steady pace, but the way he angles his cock at the end of each thrust sends jolts of pleasure through you. He doesn’t change pace or intensity the entire time he’s fucking you. It’s relentless, excruciating, frustrating that he won’t go faster. You can’t do anything about it because you’re pinned in place.

You sob around the panties in your mouth and your mascara is running down your face as you cry. You need to cum again.

You feel fingers encroach your asshole and start to explore you there. Please don’t tease me. You think to yourself. You don’t know whose fingers they are, but when one squeezes into your tight hole, you cum instantly.

“Fuck! She’s cum again. Such a good girl.” Han praised you.

“Shit, she clamps down hard doesn’t she?” Changbin growls. He suddenly pulls out and coats your inner thighs with his cum.

Again, your panties are removed and used to wipe up as much cum off you as possible and then it’s put back in your mouth.

They release you and help steady you on your feet. Han and Changbin continue to kiss and caress, squeeze and nip at your body.

“My turn now, babygirl.” Chan says pulling a chair into the hallway. He sits himself on the chair, holding his erect cock in his hand. It’s enormous, and you’re not sure how you’re going to manage it.

“Come, sit on my cock. I want to feel if you’re as tight as these two are saying.”

You carefully straddle Chan, facing away from him so the other two can get a full view, and lower yourself over his cock. He stretches you so wide as you slowly sink down. Once you reach halfway you stop. It’s not going to fit.

“You’ve got a bit more to go, sweetheart. Do you need help?” He grabs hold of your hips and pulls you down the rest of the way. You whimper. It’s too deep. He’s too big.

“Now babygirl, you’re gonna fuck yourself on me. Make me cum.” He growls.

You press your stilettos into the carpet and start to bounce on Chan’s cock. The impact against your cervix is brutal and you cry out each time his cock makes contact with it.

You’re not sure how much you can take, but you want to be a good girl, you want to please them. You want to show them you make Chan cum. You ride him wildly with all the enthusiasm you can. Just like in the porn you love to watch. You reach down and rub at your clit, and your other hand comes to your breast. You want to put on a show.

“Fuck, look how red and swollen her cunt is!” Changbin stares at where you and Chan are connected, dick in his hand.

“Makes me want to fuck her again.” Han declares as he pumps his own hardening cock. “Bet it’s twice as tight now.”

They’re right. You are swollen and sore, but it feels so fucking good and you can’t stop.

You reach out, ushering Han and Changbin closer. They step forward and you wrap your hands around their cocks.

Chan’s hands wrap around your front so he can grab onto both of your tits, and Han reaches down to play with your clit.

“That’s the way baby. Your hand feels so good around my cock.” Moans Han.

“How does her cunt feel, Chan?” Asks Changbin.

“Tiny. Feels like I’m gonna split her in two. Fuck, I wanna break her little cunt.”

That was enough. Those obscene words took you over the edge and you were cumming again. Harder than ever.

“Babygirl, I’m close! Fuckin’ milk me. Make me cum. Yes. Yes. Good… fucking pussy…suck it all out me… There you go. There you go.” chan groans, filling you up.

“Quick. Kneel on the floor.” He’s is quick to shove you off his cock.

You kneel on the floor as instructed, and continue to pump Han and Changbin as they stand in front of you. Han rips your panties out of your mouth only to stuff it with his cock. Changbin holds the back of your head while Han fucks your throat. He’s not gentle and you gag. It seems to spur him on, each thrust deeper into your throat. Then he pulls out to tell Changbin do the same.

They take turns like this for a while, even attempting to stick them both in your mouth at once, with Chan slouched on the chair working on getting himself hard again.

Han and Changbin release you and admire the saliva, tears and smeared mascara all over your face.

Then the the three of them stand in front of you pumping their cocks.

“Okay, baby. You ready? Keep your mouth and eyes open for us.” Chan says.

You open your mouth wide and do your best to keep your eyes open as Han, Changbin and Chan shoot ropes of cum all over your face. Some gets in your mouth, but most of it lands on your cheek, eyebrows and caught in your eyelashes.

Fuck you looked like a cum dump with a bucketload on your face, and Chan’s cum running down your leg.

“So fucking pretty.” Han smears the cum around your face.

Your panties are again used to wipe your face, but they are so wet that it can’t absorb anything else.

Chan comes behind you and scoops up some of the leaking cum and pushes it back inside you.

Then they get you to stand up and put your cum-filled panties back on. They feel so wet and dirty. You fix your dress, pulling it back down over your ass and up over your tits.

You look around to find the men are gone.

“Well fuck me!” You say out loud.

“Well I hope I can again.” Han says a he comes out of the bathroom with paper towel. He wipes your face to get the remaining cum off your skin.

“I’m hoping you’ll come back to mine. I still have one more hole to fuck, and I really want to take my time with it.”

@kangnina @noellllslut @channieandhisgoonsquad @weareapackofstrays @itshannjisung

[sturniololoco]

can you do one where justin is in la visiting and all the boys start doing stuff (going out to eat, going shopping, etc) all without her and she starts to feel left out so she isolates herself until chris starts to notice and does something to make her feel better (her and chris are the closest)

Left Out

Sturniolo Little Sister (SLS) x The Sturniolo triplets

warnings: crying, angriness, jealousy, fluff, etc.

₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚⊹♡₊˚

SLS’s POV

Today was a big day for my brothers and I: My oldest brother Justin was flying into LA to spend the week with us.

We were in the car, heading to the airport to pick him up.

Nick pulled out the camera and began filming an intro to the blog they were filming while he’s here.

“Are you excited?” Nick asked me, leaning over and holding the camera to show the both of us in selfie position.

“Heck yes!” I said, leaning over and smiling into the lenses with Nick.

“That’s good because we’re almost there!” Matt said as we passed under the green sign that said we were taking the exit to get to the airport.

-

“Hey guys!” Justin said as he saw us parked in the back of the parking garage.

He gave each of my brothers a hug, smiling into the camera that Nick had rolling.

I sat there excitedly, waiting for my hug from my big brother.

But it didn’t come.

“Sis, you cool with sitting in the back?” Chris asked me as he put the very back seat down before throwing Justin’s bags in the trunk.

“Oh-um yeah.” I said, not seeming like I had much of a choice, I quietly climbed in the back of the car.

-

I was pretty quiet on the ride home, giving up on trying to but into the conversation.

As we pulled into the driveway, everyone got out, except for me who was waiting for Chris to put the seat down so I could climb out.

But he didn’t.

He walked inside, carrying Justin’s backpack as they walked inside, leaving me in the car.

I tried to tell for him, text him, call him, but I didn’t get any response.

I eventually sighed and spent the next 10 minuets forcing my body through the small opening between the headrests to get into the trunk.

I eventually got and found the emergency exit button in the trunk.

“Mother fucker,” I mumbled under my breath as I rubbed my knee that I banged on the window of the car.

-

“What happens to you?” Chris laughed as I walked in, an unpleasant look on my face.

I rolled my eyes and mumbled,

“I’m gonna take a shower, I’ll be right back.”

-

After doing my skincare and hair routine and getting into some cozy pj’s, I walked down stairs,

To be met with an abandoned house.

I looked around, checking my brothers room which we’re completely empty.

After defending the stairs to the garage, I found that my brothers left me here by myself.

I had no notification from them either.

I slouched down on the couch and pulled out my phone, dialing Nick.

He didn’t answer till about 20 minutes later.

“Where the fuck are you?!” I shouted into the phone, letting my anger out.

“okay, chill the fuck out.” He said sarcastically back to me.

I rolled my eyes and responded.

“You just left me here! Where did you go?”

“We took Justin out to dinner and we’re on the way to top golf now.” He said.

At this, I felt my hear shatter.

I quickly hung the phone up, not even responding.

I willed the tears not to come, but they did anyways. They rolled down my face as I though about how they just left me out.

They didn’t even bother telling me! Justin hasn’t even talked to me once.

As the tears kept falling, I feel myself drifting off to sleep.

-

I feel myself being picked up and carried up the stairs. I open my eyes to see myself pressed against Chris’s chest.

“Shhh, go back to sleep.” He said as he opens my door and walked me to my bed.

As he played me down, he pressed a kiss to my forehead, saying his good nights.

But then it came flooding back to me.

I feel the tears come again as he pulls away. He noticed and kneeled down beside me, brushing some hair out of my face.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweet girl.” He asked, grabbing my hand and looking at me with a sad face.

“Y-You guys just left me here! A-And I was scared when Nick didn’t answer. And Justin doesn’t even wanna see me, he’s only here to see you guys and I-“

I began to rant, letting my feeling pour out. He climbed into bed next to me and pulled me into a hug, saying,

“Shhh, I promise that’s not true. And I’m so sorry we left you bud.” I nodded into his chest, hugging him back tightly.

As I drifted off to sleep again, I hear Chris’s soft words say,

“tomorrow will be a better day. I promise.”

-

The next morning, I was being lightly shook awake.

I opened my eyes to see Justin’s smiling at me.

“C’mon! We’re gonna go get donuts!” He whispered, signaling that it might be early.

I quickly shot up, smiling before throwing on a hoodie and following him out to the car.

-

“Hey kid, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. We left you out and I feel really bad.” Justin said as we pulled out of the Duncan drive through.

he grabbed my hand and gave it a little squeeze before looking at me with a sympathetic smile.

I smiled back, but mine was sincere.

I didn’t say anything, all I did was lean into him, resting my head in his shoulder as he held my hand.

“I love ya kiddo.”

-

Note: kinda short fluffy one. I’ll have some GOOD fics out tomorrow 😏

@idkwhosnyla @babypat08 @eyelessdemon00 @christopherowensturniolo @sturnsxx @freshloveforthefit @matty443355 @sleepysturnss @emeraldgreenbeautiesstu @sunsetsturniolos @hoesturniolo @x4nd3rsukz @chr1sgirl4life @sstvrnioloo @sturns-posts @chrisstopherfilmed @kylasrealityx @zoeysturnioloooooo @comet235 @islaasblog @sturnioloblogs @defnotayonna @mattsleftnipple03 @thematthewlover @mattsaq @idkhowtosleep

[moremaybank]

HOME THIS CHRISTMAS — j.m

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader prompt: "i thought you were going home for christmas?" - "well, i couldn't leave you all alone." requested: here (ty @drewstarkeyslut) warnings: none naughty or nice ! ౨ৎ

When you first told JJ that you had to fly back home to visit your parents for the holidays, you could see the sorrow in his eyes. He tried his hardest not to let it show, throwing on the best smile he could and saying “That’s great, baby. I know you miss ‘em. I bet they’re thrilled.” 

What he really wanted to do was get on his knees, loop his arms around your legs like a child and beg and plead for you not to leave him. He couldn’t help it. Most of the time growing up, he’d duck out of his house, not too eager to spend quality time with Luke. Quality time in which Luke would spend being wasted out of his mind and souring the mood. John B always had Big John to celebrate with, and now he has Sarah. Kie would stay with her parents and possibly do something at The Wreck to give back during the festive season, and Pope would spend it with his parents as well. 

It’s not like they tried to leave JJ out. That’s just what ended up happening every year. 

But now that the two of you were together, he hoped that he’d finally get to experience Christmas with someone he loved.

Too bad the odds just weren’t in his favour. 

He moped, albeit internally (though you knew him far too well to believe that he was happy, or even simply okay). With the date of your departure rapidly approaching, he grew even more defeated. When you asked him about it, he knew he couldn’t lie to you. But he would just say that he was going to miss you. That he’d been excited to start new holiday traditions with you, but you won’t have the opportunity to do so. And while you argued that you could still do everything he’d planned out before and after you returned, you understood where he was coming from. 

It wouldn’t be the same. 

“It’s okay, baby. I don’t want you to worry about me. I get you all to myself for the majority of the year, you should be able to go visit your family without feeling guilty.” 

Your hands rub a path up and down his brawny arms. “You know, no matter how many times you say not to worry, I still will.” 

He smiles, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. “‘N I love you for that, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let your guilt hold you back. You’re goin’.” 

And that was that. 

Or, at least, that’s what JJ thought. 

When JJ woke up on the twenty-third of December, the bed was cold and empty. There was no one scratching his back, kissing up the length of his spine and playing with his hair. No one whispered how pretty he looked as he slept, how tan he was in contrast with the white cotton sheets embracing him. 

His shower was even lonelier than the wake-up had been. Still, he forced himself to continue with his morning routine before begrudgingly getting himself to work. JJ never enjoyed work, but now that he couldn’t look forward to your daily visit…let’s just say he was no longer the ray of sunshine he always was in your company. 

The day dragged on, possibly the slowest he’d ever experienced. He waited for a text or call from you to ensure that you’d reached your destination with all your precious limbs intact. But hours went by, and he hadn’t heard from you. Worry bubbled in his chest, but he just told himself that you were reuniting with everyone, and you couldn’t find a second to pull yourself away from them. 

Meanwhile, you were running around ordering all of JJ’s favourite foods, buying matching pyjama sets and decorating your apartment. You hadn’t bothered to do so earlier since you were planning on being away, and truthfully, you didn’t want JJ to be surrounded by all the reminders of why you weren’t there. 

In hindsight, maybe it would’ve been better to make it homey for him. Especially now that you were on a massive time crunch. 

When you were done, you shot JJ a quick message. 

Hi, baby. Miss you. There’s a surprise waiting for you when you get home. I hope you like it ♡︎

Though he would’ve loved to hear your voice, joy washed over him once he read your message. You were so good to him. You had a habit of acting like a madman every time you had to travel, and in between freaking out the way he knew you were, you took the time out of your busy schedule to brighten up his day.

The drive home felt far too long. He wished for nothing more than to shower, crack open a few beers and chill. Smoke so he could fall asleep without you. 

On another note, his curiosity also ate away at him. He wondered what his crazy girl had left behind for him. 

He stepped inside your shared place, noticing a cast of light coming from the next room. Shit, he thought, she’s gonna kill me if I left the lights on again. But when he reached the room, there you were, wearing red plaid pyjamas and fuzzy socks, standing next to a large pile of presents in front of your brand-new pine tree. 

“What…What are you doin’ here? I thought you were goin’ home for Christmas?” 

You crossed the room, looping your arms around his back and looking up at him. You watched his blue eyes sparkle in the light. 

He’d never looked so delighted. Relieved. 

“Well, I couldn’t leave you all alone.”

“But, what about your family? They’re expectin’ you,” he spoke, though he pulled you into him further. “What if they hate me for making you stay here?”

Your head tilted, and your heart melted. He was so disappointed by the thought of having to spend Christmas by himself again, but the first thing that popped into his mind at the sight of you was the idea of your family being upset with him. 

He was too sweet for his own good. 

“You didn’t make me do anything. I wanted to stay. It wouldn’t have been Christmas without you. As for my family — who do not hate you, by the way — they’re coming down in a few days. And they can’t wait to meet the boy who makes me happy.” 

He didn’t even respond. Not verbally, anyway. He simply gave you a shining grin, cupped your face and kissed the life out of you. 

Oh, yeah. Best decision ever. 

[bambithewriter]

Student's pet 3

Human!Lo'ak x female reader

College AU

Read part 1 here

Read part 2 here

Content: MDNI, 18+, all characters are aged up, dom Lo'ak, sub reader, p in v, creampie

Summary: Lo'ak holds himself to his promise and creampies his little nerd.

A/N: The long awaited part three is finally here! Writing this part had me all hot and bothered. Human Lo'ak is a need at this point. Anyway, enjoy this smutty piece of work my horny babies💗

Lo’ak had me on my knees, pressed against him with my back resting against his chest. One hand in between my legs, flicking my clit back and forth.

He didn’t stop until I couldn’t take it anymore, prolonging my orgasm for as long as possible. The sheets were messed up, covered in my slick and his precum. 

“Hmm, I have so much cum saved for you baby. I’m gonna turn you into my little creampie next.” 

His hands held onto my hips as he pulled out of my pussy. My lips parted, eyebrows scrunching up.

“Nngh.” My pussy was so sensitive, the mere feeling of his cock sliding out of me causing me to shiver. 

“Sshh, we’re not done, baby. Gonna make daddy cum first.” 

With his hands on my hips, he guided me to turn around. He pulled me with him, resting his back against the headboard, cock standing straight leaking precum.

It looked intimidating, angry and pent up ready to spurt its seed any time now. 

He wrapped his hand around it, stroking it up and down. He looked at me with a lust-filled gaze motioning for me to come closer to him with his free hand. 

I gulped, crawling closer until I was hovering above his cock.

He watched how some of my juices fell onto his cock from my pussy. ‘Mmm fuck, you’re so fucking hot.” He hissed, already on the brink of cumming.

“Hop on it, my little bunny.”

“Lo’ak, I-I…I never sat on a dick before.” I mumbled shyly, looking down at him with a clueless gaze.

He groaned softly, my innocence only turning him on more. “Fuck, I’ll help you. Come here.” He mumbled impatiently, his hand leaving his cock to grab me by my hips. 

“Just slowly sink on it, babe.” 

I nodded my head obediently, nervously chewing on my lower lip. I rested my hands on his shoulders to keep myself stable. The moment I did that, he leaned his head to the side to plant a kiss on my hand. 

“Good girl, now line it up to your precious little hole and sit on it.” He said through gritted teeth, struggling to hold back the load that was threatening to spurt out.

“Okay, I think I understand. I-I’ll go slowly an- nnngh.” I whined softly when I fell on his cock, my knees giving out under me. He was so, so deep, the tip of his cock hitting a hidden sweet spot. 

“Shit, you’re so fucking clumsy. Always needing me to guide you.” He hissed softly, his hands gripping onto my hips.

He bounced me on top of him while thrusting up to keep hitting that sweet spot. 

“Lo, please I can’t. "It's too good.” I cried out, already on the brink of another orgasm. 

His eyes rolled back when he felt my pussy clenching around his cock so tightly.

He spanked my ass before his large veiny hand wrapped around my neck, pulling me closer for a messy kiss. His tongue fought with mine, dominating me easily. His kiss was dirty and rough, drool running past my lips. 

When he pulled away he cupped my cheek with the hand that was previously around my neck, forcing his thumb in my mouth. I immediately started sucking, tongue running over his finger. His other hand held onto my hip, gripping it so tight it would surely leave a mark. 

He guided me to make grinding movements, knowing it would feel better for me. I cried out at the feeling of my clit getting friction, his cock still stuffed deep. 

“Cum for me.” He spoke in a low voice. 

That’s all it took for me to let loose, pussy clenching around his cock, my eyes rolling back. “A-aaah Lo’ak!” I cried out, my warm slick running down his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so good.” He hissed, his eyes closing as he couldn’t hold back any longer. 

My eyes closed, a soft mewl slipping past my parted lips as I felt his warm seed filling me up. Lo’ak let out a soft “Fuck yeah”, loving the feeling of his cock getting milked out. 

“Lo’ak, feel s-so full.” 

Lo’ak grinned as he listened to me explaining the feeling. “That’s something you’re going to have to get used to, my sweet nerd. Your body will crave my special cream every time you’re with me. Cream made only by you and me.” 

I barely heard him, eyes half-lidded, completely messed up. My body was hot and sweaty with a soft blush planted on my cheeks. Thighs on either side of his legs, sticking to his toned ones and trembling vigorously. 

“It’s so deep.” I softly whined, my body tensed, and my face flushed. I could feel him in my stomach. Lo’ak wasn’t the biggest guy around. He was toned but slim. His cock, however…

He was huge. The shaft was veiny and thick but nothing could explain his insane length. 

“I ain’t pulling out of you, baby. Gonna keep cockwarming this snug little pussy of yours.” He said in a mocking tone glaring at me with lust-filled eyes.

My pussy kept on clenching around his cock, my body tensing as I couldn't stop whimpering.

“Oh, is my baby too sensitive hmm? Come here, sweetheart.” He cooed, pulling me to lay against him. His hands found their way to my scalp, massaging it in soft circles. 

“It’s okay, babe. I got you. We’ll have round two later.”

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Follow Me

Luke Castellan x daughterofares!Reader

Summary: Luke's girlfriend is excited to finally become a year-round camper so she can spend it with him. But Luke has other plans for them.

Warning: Major spoilers if you haven't finished the first book(/season depending on when you read this), canon-level violence, weapons, injuries, angst

Word Count: 5.5K

Masterlist

A/N I haven't watched the show because I don't have Disney+ so I'm working from (memory of) the books. No characters are specifically book or show so descriptions are left vague. Imagine whatever you want.

I stumbled my way up Half-Blood Hill, determined to get to Thalia’s tree. This was my last year being a summer camper. After I graduated high school I’d decided to become a year round camper seeing as the real world was getting more and more dangerous for me. And I'd be damned if I let myself be killed right before I was in the safety of camp for good.

I was in so much pain, there was blood pouring out of my abdomen caused by the crocotta’s razor sharp claws slicing at me. My short break gave it enough time to catch up to me so rather than continuing to flee, I was forced to turn and face it. I pulled out my father’s gift to me, a sword made of celestial bronze that grew from a steel knife that could harm mortals. When he claimed and gifted it to me I found the steel useless. Why would I ever need to harm a mortal? The reasoning behind the dual blade still eluded me. The only reason I could think of was just that Ares had a penchant for violence.

As the crocotta bounded closer to me, all I could do was stand and wait for it to get within range. But upon reaching me, it just swiped the sword from my grasp, pouncing on me. I felt a tear slip down my face as I realized I’d failed to reach safety one final time. As it growled in my face and opened its jaw, I sent a silent prayer to my father and a goodbye to Luke. But before it’s jaws could clamp down on me, the weight lifted and a shimmery cloud of ichor rained down on me.

As the golden dust settled, I could see my boyfriend’s face above mine, standing over me, clutching his dagger. “Luke,” I practically sobbed in relief.

“Oh my gods,” he exclaimed, kneeling down next to me. His hands went to my stomach, pressing against the open wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Can you walk?” he asked, fear in his eyes.

“Yeah,” I nodded, letting him take my hand as he stood. Truthfully I probably couldn’t really walk but it was either walk 10 feet to the tree or lie here waiting for someone else to help Luke carry me in and potentially getting attacked by another monster.

I let out a groan as Luke slung my arm over his shoulder, pulling me up from the ground. “C’mon,” he urged, “just get to the tree and then we’ll get some more people to help you.” I nodded, not bothering with a verbal agreement as I let my boyfriend practically carry me just past Thalia’s tree. “There we go,” he said gently as he eased me to the ground.

“Go. Go get Lee or Michael,” I urged him as he kneeled by my side again.

“No,” Luke immediately shot down. “I’m not leaving you like this and so close to the edge of the barrier.” I glanced to my left. We were about three feet from the edge of the camp’s protective barrier. “Help!” I heard him yell towards camp.

“What? Do you think I'm accidentally gonna roll down the hill?” I tried to joke. But my chuckle made my wounds hurt even more.

Seeing my pain made Luke even more unamused. Soon enough a few other campers ran up to us, having heard Luke’s call.

“Y/N, oh my god.”

“What happened?”

“Another one?!”

I heard the various reactions from other campers. Another one? What did they mean another one? But I didn’t dwell on my questions for long because Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew were running towards me. A few of my siblings followed them carrying a stretcher. As the Apollo boys started to try to stop the bleeding, I was moved onto the stretcher. But the pain of being lifted was so bad I blacked out.

~

When I came to in the sickroom of the Big House all I could feel was pain. I let out a soft groan, snapping Luke to attention. He was slumped over on my bedside, seemingly sleeping. He immediately grabbed a piece of ambrosia off the nightstand next to the cot, bringing it to my lips. I immediately rejected it, not feeling like eating anything.

“C’mon, it’s ambrosia. It’ll make you feel better,” Luke pleaded. Reluctantly I let him coax the food into my mouth and ate it. The comforting taste of my mother’s chocolate cake filled my mouth. Despite the fact that it tasted good, it felt heavy in my stomach and I pushed the food away. “You gotta eat more than that,” he tried again.

“Let’s start with water or nectar,” I suggested, my throat sore.

Luke looked at the floor angrily. He sighed. “We’re out of nectar for a while. Ambrosia is all we have.”

“What?” I asked in shock, sitting up in surprise. Luke was quick to coax me back down.

“Grover and the kid he was helping got attacked by the Minotaur on their way here. Just like the crocotta attacked you.”

“Oh my god,” I murmured. “Is that why someone said ‘Another one?’ as they were bringing me here?”

He nodded once again. “His name was Percy. He showed up the night before you did.” He suddenly stopped talking. Like he had something more to say. I urged him to continue and he did so reluctantly. “Poseidon claimed him the second night he was awake… and now he’s on a quest.”

I looked at him sympathetically. I knew all about Luke’s anger about going unclaimed for so long. And then when he finally was claimed and had trained to be a great hero, all Hermes could give him to do was steal some golden apples. But after countless rants about this I knew he wouldn’t want sympathy. “You said he’s on a quest already? How long have I been out?”

“A couple days. Chiron and Lee kicked me out for a while.”

“What’d you do?”

“Well, we already need new practice dummies for combat training,” he admitted sheepishly. I laughed and fortunately Luke did too.

By now, Chiron had sensed I was awake and entering the sickroom. As he ducked his way through the door he shrunk down back into his wheelchair so as to not overwhelm me. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. You gave us quite a scare for a few days,” he smiled.

“So I've heard.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like my guts were ripped out by a crocotta,” I answered.

“Well the ambrosia should help the pain and scarring. Lee stopped the bleeding and stitched you up but he said you’d be out for a few days.”

“Can you get her some nectar?” Luke interrupted. “She’s not exactly in a place to be eating solid foods.”

“Mr. D is trying to get into contact with Apollo. Apparently he’s concerned that Dionysus is overindulging.”

“That’s crap!” Luke suddenly burst out.

“Luke!” Chiron immediately cut him off. “I know you’re concerned for Ms. L/N, here but the food of the gods is in of itself a privilege.” He then turned his attention back to me. “I’m sorry you’re not feeling well but ambrosia will have to do until we’re able to get more nectar.”

“Thanks, Chiron,” I tried to dismiss him, giving him a tight lipped smile. Sensing my disappointment he took his leave, wheeling out of the room.

Luke was back by my bedside with more pieces of ambrosia that I reluctantly took.

~

Thanks to the godly food I was up and walking within two days much to cabin 5’s relief. So many of my younger siblings were saying that Clarisse had been a terror in my absence. Something about a bathroom exploding and then she apparently tried to electrocute the new camper. I made a note to talk to her later but for now I was focused on getting my cabin back in order. They responded best to authority and a routine so I quickly had them out in training, telling them that I wouldn’t tolerate us losing capture the flag again.

We made our way down to the arena for sword fighting lessons. Luke and I were both instructors seeing as we were the oldest two campers and the best with blades. Our childhood competitiveness had eventually grown into love but for a while, we hated each other. We used to spend hours trying to get the upper hand over one another.

But now that we were dating, the younger campers always tried to goad us into sparring with one another. We always said that we’d save our sparring match for our own training or a reward for the others doing well but usually a few teasing comments had our swords pointed at one another.

I was correcting a Hermes camper’s form when he asked me to try fighting Luke. “Not today,” I laughed.

“Why? Is it because you’re scared?” he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing.

“No,” I corrected him. “It’s because once we fight, none of you will care about what we teach you.”

“Sound like you’re scared,” the boy just repeated.

I just rolled my eyes, prepared to dismiss him when Luke’s voice interrupted. “Yeah, Y/N. It sounds like you’re scared.” I rolled my eyes again as he approached. “I wouldn’t want to fight the capture the flag champion either.”

“You only won because I was recovering from being chased across the country by a monster. Just wait until the next game, I’ll show you how Cabin 5 does it.” That elicited a few cries of encouragement from my cabin, eager to win their flag back.

“You need a bit more time to train, I get it,” he mockingly offered. A few of his siblings joined in on the taunting with their exaggerated reactions.

“I don’t need time. I’d just rather not cut you up this early into the summer,” I smiled. A few ‘ooh’s came from our audience.

Luke bristled a little at that. “C’mon,” he gestured to the arena, “let’s settle this once and for all.”

I picked up one of the practice swords that resembled the size and weight of my real sword, stepping into the middle of the arena. “You say that every time.” Luke smiled, taking his spot in front of me with his practice sword as the other campers backed up.

I barely gave him a chance to settle before I was moving. I had the advantage of my father’s knack for fighting and aggression but I wasn’t as strong as Luke. Unfortunately, he knew all my moves and tricks so he was able to block me. But that also meant I knew all of his moves and tricks because I could anticipate his subsequent moves.

We continued on, trying to outmaneuver each other. He kept forcing me out of range, protecting his body, whilst I tried to find an opening to get close to him. The other campers had been within the walls of the arena but we moved around so much they were forced to jump out.

The only reason we stopped was because our little “lesson” had gone on too long and Chiron was wondering where his students were. Neither of us noticed him until he yelled our names. “Y/N L/N! Luke Castellan! What are you doing?” We both immediately stopped, facing the centaur like guilty children.

“We were just introducing them to technique,” Luke offered. I could tell Chiron saw right through his excuse but it was good enough reasoning.

“You both know you’re supposed to hold off on sparring one another. Children,” he turned to the other campers, “what did your instructors teach you?”

“Stance!”

“What to do if your opponent has a longer sword!”

Those were the answers our siblings offered but one Aphrodite camper’s answer ruined the whole thing. “How to waste time.” Luke and I both sent her stares.

Fortunately Chiron didn’t take it too seriously. “Save the sparring for your own sessions,” he warned us. “Everyone move on to your next activities. I’m sure your instructors are waiting.”

As everyone else filed off, Luke and I looked at each other. “You’re disgusting,” I laughed, observing his sweaty shirt.

He looked baffled at that. “Wow. I was gonna ask if you’re okay but clearly you don’t value me that much,” he answered in mocking offense.

“No, no, no,” I corrected through laughs, going to him. But as soon as he tried to hug me, I pulled away with a wrinkled nose. Seeing my disgust, he forcefully hugged me, drowning me in his B.O. When I finally wrestled my way out of his arms I was disgusting. “Ugh we both need showers.”

He smiled. “I’ll see you at dinner,” he promised. He stepped closer to me, kissing me quickly before heading off towards the showers. I watched him leave for a moment before heading to my cabin.

Later that night at dinner, I was talking to my cabin-mates when Luke came over, crouching by me. “Hey,” he smiled up at me as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“Hi,” I laughed. “What are you doing here?”

“Being a good boyfriend. I’m just giving you a heads up that our spar from earlier isn’t over yet.”

“What?”

Chiron stood up and so did Luke. “Gotta go, bye,” he said, pressing a kiss to my temple before scurrying off.

Bewildered, I looked up at Chiron. “We have a special activity tonight per the request of the reigning capture the flag champions. We’ll be playing again tonight seeing as some claimed our last games were unfair due to a missing counselor.” Cabin 5 erupted into cheers, eager to win the flag back. “Luke Castellan and Y/N L/N are captains. Same rules as the prior games.”

Not willing to let my cabin lose again, I jumped into action. “Cabin 5, armor on, get to the creek in 5!” They all quickly scrambled off. Our allies for this game, Dionysus, Aphrodite, Demeter, and Hephaestus followed their lead.

I followed after them to get my armor as well and soon enough I was stood by the creek, discussing strategy with my teammates. Once our discussion time drew to a close, I faced my opposing captain. “You’re going down, feather feet,” I sneered.

“We’ll see, hot head,” Luke taunted.

I laughed. “Oh yeah, one more thing,” I told my teammates. “Bring me Luke’s sword and helmet.”

“In your dreams,” he taunted back. He looked at his team. “Bring me Y/N.”

“Okay,” Chiron interrupted us. “Before we begin I think we need a reminder that killing is not permitted. Are we clear?” A few unenthusiastic agreements came from the crowd. Nodding, Chiron blew into the horn, signaling that the games had begun. Some of my campers who hadn’t already been stationed bolted into the trees, doubling back so they could hopefully sneak through Hermes’ cabin’s defenses. The others stayed with me to defend the most obvious point.

One Hermes kid immediately jumped at me but I slashed him in the chest, (his armor protected him so he just got the wind knocked out of him) knocking him back into the water.

He got back up, running at one of my campers but he was immediately disarmed and taken prisoner. By the time I looked back, the other campers and Luke were gone. I realized with a frustrated scream that this kid was a distraction. “Find them!” I yelled at the others.

“Their territory or ours?” I observed the 5 campers in front of me. “You three, stay on our side. Fan across the creek, look for signs they crossed into our territory. The rest of you, we’re gonna either hunt them down in their territory or take their flag.”

My group leapt over the creek, running into the forest.

As we searched, we picked up a few of our own teammates, running through the woods and strangely finding no opposing campers. We continued on nonetheless until Athena and Apollo campers all of a sudden started darting through the trees.

Eventually they stopped moving enough for us to have a proper fight. I faced Malcom Pace, easily disarming him. But suddenly his older brothers were on me. As I was busy fighting twins, Leo and Cato, another one of the boys found an opening. Quinn wrapped his arms around me, a dagger at my throat. “Drop the sword,” they told me.

Seeing as I wasn’t getting out of this but my teammates were gone while many of the Athena and Apollo campers were still here, I dropped the sword. Most of my campers got away and were likely hunting down the flag.

Before they could decide where to stash their prisoner, the horn blew again, signaling the end of the games. But as I tried to leave, the others stopped me. “Woah, Luke said he wanted you so we’re taking you.”

I rolled my eyes, letting them lead me to the creek. “Yeah, well when my cabin gives me his stuff and the flag, you can apologize to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Quinn dismissed. “You’re just mad I beat you.”

“You only ‘beat me’ because there were three of you. And you guys still lost the rest of my team.”

“We still got you!” Leo taunted in a sing-songy voice. By now we had reached the creek and I saw Clarisse holding the flag, a helmet, and a sword. Luke was kneeled beside her looking humiliated, clearly a captive.

Both sides let us go and I went to Clarisse. “Your spoils,” she presented me the flag, helmet, and sword. I smiled, wrapping the flag around her shoulders and taking Luke’s stuff.

“Thank you!” I said emphatically, pointing a look of victory at Luke.

He just shook his head, standing up. As he approached me I figured he was grabbing his belongings but instead he wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me in for a kiss. When he pulled away he explained. “You’re my spoil.”

~

Camp life continued on as normal for a while. I finally met the newest hero who had returned Zeus’ masterbolt— he did not like my father. He seemed surprised that Luke and I were dating and I learned that Luke had become a sort of mentor to Percy over the days that I had been asleep. That also surprised me, given how resentful Luke had seemed towards him when I first woke up. Regardless, everything seemed normal as we continued our routines throughout the summer until I was woken up one night.

“Y/N,” a voice whispered, shaking me. “Y/N.” I reluctantly opened my eyes, finding one of my younger brothers, Aiden, shaking me. “Luke’s asking for you.”

“What?” I asked, sitting up.

“Luke wants to talk to you. He gave me a coke if I woke you up.” The boy excitedly held up a shiny red can as if to persuade me to go.

I rubbed his messy hair as I sat up. “Don’t let Clarisse see that,” I advised, throwing on a hoodie. He nodded, going back to his bunk as I headed outside. “Luke!” I whispered into the night upon exiting the cabin. I didn’t notice him sneaking up towards me until his hands were around my waist. “Luke!” I exclaimed in surprise.

He quickly hushed me. “Do you want the harpies to find us?”

“Well we wouldn’t have to worry about that if you weren’t trying to talk to me in the middle of the night. What’s wrong?” I asked, knowing it’d be serious. He let his playful facade drop as he urged me to follow him, taking my hand. I went with him, silently trusting him until I realized we were heading to the woods. I stopped, letting my hand fall out of his grasp. “What? Are you gonna kill me in there?” I laughed shallowly, trying to lighten the mood and quell the alarms in my brain.

Luke returned my shallow laugh, clearly nervous. “Of course not. Look, I have to talk to you. It’s serious.” I could see the genuineness in his expression so I let him retake my hand. “I’d never hurt you,” he promised. So I followed him further into the woods until he deemed us far enough. “The nymphs may hear us but it’s kind of impossible to avoid them,” he chuckled.

“Hear what?” I asked.

He took a breath, seemingly composing himself. “You know how I went on that quest? For my dad?”

“Yeah. What? You want to go out into the world again?” I asked, a little relieved.

“Sort of,” he offered. “But on that ‘quest,’” he mocked the word, “I realized something: the gods are useless.”

“Luke!” I immediately reprimanded him.

“No,” he cut me off. “You don’t have to pretend like not fawning over the gods is a crime. We shouldn’t be blindly worshipping them. Y/N,” his hands were clasping my shoulders as if begging me to believe him, “your father waited for the last day of summer your first year to claim you. Why? Just to mess with you? Because he just couldn’t be bothered to do it until he remembered at the last second? That’s messed up. The gods aren’t fit to rule. The West is going to hades. My quest? To repeat Heracles’ quest? All the gods know how to do is repeat the past. Their glory days.”

“Luke, you’re scaring me.” I was practically begging him to stop talking so we could go back to the way it was. This was the first year I’d be staying year round. We were supposed to be celebrating Christmas together for the first time in a few months. Yet here he was, spouting off heresy.

“Open your eyes,” he insisted. “The gods are poisoning the world and they’ve been using us as pawns to do it. The only way to fix it is to destroy it and start over with something more honest.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve been having dreams sent by the Titan Lord.”

A shiver ran down my spine and I stepped out of his grasp. “No,” I heard myself whisper. “Luke, he’s using you. You remember what Chiron taught us. We are not better off, no one was better off when the Titans ruled. We didn’t even have fire. He will kill all the humans. He’ll kill us.”

“Not if we join him willingly,” Luke promised, trying to take my hand again but I pulled away. “He said when I bring down the gods he’ll reward me. He’ll make me immortal. He promised you’d become like me too.” He quickly grasped my wrist tight enough so I couldn’t escape, pulling me closer. “We can rule together, forever.” He was pleading with me to take his offer, his hands finding a stray lock of hair to tuck behind my ear.

“Luke… this isn’t- you can’t…” I was at a loss for words.

“Please, Y/N,” his voice was cracking.

“I can’t. I’m sorry. This isn’t right. This is dangerous, can’t you see that?”

“This isn’t me just trying to get back at my dad. I’ve thought about this.” He stiffened, still tightly grasping my wrist. “Y/N, I need you with me.”

“Then don’t go,” I begged him. “I won’t even tell anyone. We can just go back to how things were.”

“No, we can’t,” he shook his head. “Because you’re gonna try to help me by telling Chiron and he’s gonna turn me in.”

“No he won’t! Luke, he trained you. He’ll want to help you.”

“Camp isn’t safe for us anymore. We have to go.”

This was the first time I actually started fearing for my safety. I tried to pull out of his grasp but he held firm. “Go where?”

“Our Titan Lord got us a ship. We’ll be safe there until I get my next orders. The monsters on it won’t harm us.”

“What?!” With a hard wrench I pulled my wrist out of his grasp. I immediately started running, hoping a nymph would find me before a monster did but Luke was on me in seconds. He knocked me to the ground and after a little struggling he had me pinned. “Luke, please don’t do this,” I begged as I saw him reach into his pocket. When I saw the milk of the poppy I began to thrash underneath him but I couldn’t manage to throw him off of me. He forced my mouth open, dropping the liquid onto my tongue and forcing me to swallow. Before I blacked out, I could vaguely hear him speak.

“You’ll be okay in a few days and then we can talk.” A few days???

~~

The next morning Luke was woken by frantic cries of his girlfriend’s name heard throughout camp. He immediately rushed out of bed, putting on a concerned boyfriend facade. Finding one of his brothers, he asked what was going on. “What? Did you just wake up?” Luke nodded frantically. “Oh, I’m sorry man. Uh, Y/N wasn’t in bed this morning. No one can find her. One of her little brothers said you asked to talk to her last night.”

“Yeah to talk about potentially allying for capture the flag but she went right back in,” he insisted frantically. He ran a hand through his hair, acting stressed. He kind of whished he’d be gone by now but he needed to get rid of Percy before he could go.

He ran out of the cabin, immediately going up to Cabin 5. Clarisse spotted him, her expression becoming sour. “What’d you do Castellan? Aiden said you wanted to talk to her last night.”

“Yeah, we were talking about capture the flag but she went right back in 10 minutes later. You sleep 20 feet from her, where’s my girlfriend?” he challenged. Clarisse sent him a scowl but otherwise stormed off, the other Cabin 5 campers following her with similar expressions.

“Luke, I'm so sorry,” a young voice called. He turned, finding Annabeth running towards him. As she hugged him, Luke couldn’t help but think about how much he’d miss her. She was too smart for her own good but he still couldn’t help but think of the seven year old he had found hiding from monsters. “She could just be out somewhere?” she offered, trying to console him.

“I hope so,” he smiled down at her. He then spotted Mr. D and ran over to him. “Mr. D, can you find where she is?”

The god gave him a tired expression. “I’m not omniscient in this state. All I know is she’s not in camp.”

“Well can’t you get a god who is? Surely her father wants to know where she is,” he insisted. But Ares had plenty of demigod children and most of them went missing in action or died tragic deaths. Y/N would be just another hero child that fought in his name.

“Lord Ares has other concerns,” Mr. D at least tried to soften the blow. “If she hasn’t returned by the end of the summer then we must assume she is dead. Even if she left of her own volition.”

“But summer is ends tomorrow. You can’t do this. She could still be out there. She could need our help. Let me go out and search,” he pleaded. By now, Chiron, Clarisse, and a few others had joined them.

“No one is leaving,” Chiron declared. “I’m not letting anyone else go missing. Luke, I understand your concern but her blade was found in Cabin 5. If she’s not in camp she is likely already dead.”

“No,” Luke insisted, putting on the performance of a lifetime, “you’re wrong.”

After nearly two whole days of searching camp and the closest borders, (that was the furthest Chiron would let anyone go) Y/N L/N was declared dead. Her siblings reluctantly built a funeral pyre, decorating it with some of her things. Luke did his best to look devastated and it seemed to be working because no one looked at him twice other than to offer their sympathies. That at least made it easy to lure Percy off into the woods just before he left.

~~

When I woke up I was in a strange room. It looked like a hotel room except for the fact that the floor to ceiling windows showed that I was on the ocean. That triggered all the memories of Luke. A sense of hopelessness came over me and I was immediately breaking down in sobs. I didn’t want to believe that he had joined Kronos and turned his back on everything he knew or that he was determined to drag me with him.

Once I finally managed to compose myself I went to the door, hoping to find a radio so someone could get me. Or maybe even find Luke so I could talk him into letting me go. But once I opened the door I was met with the massive jaws of a hellhound. I immediately shut the door and locked it.

Still feeling unsafe I went to grab the dresser to block the door but either it was too heavy or bolted down. I tried the desk next resulting in nothing. I was running out of time as the monster was probably just trying to process what it saw. Soon it’d smell me and start trying to break down the door. So I resorted to the chair, dragging it across the floor and jamming it under the door handle. I then went to the massive windows, realizing there was a hidden door. I wrenched it open, stepping out into the fresh air. I looked around, seeing no land I’d be able to swim to. But just as I was considering my chances, I noticed the body of a massive whale-like creature. I was willing to bet that whales weren’t just swimming around a cruise ship, this was a cetus.

Seeing as I had nowhere else to go, I went back into the room. I went to the attached bathroom, searching for something to defend myself. There wasn’t really anything in there except bar soap and toilet paper. Luke must have removed everything, even the towels, so I couldn’t hurt him or anyone else. Frustrated, I went to the closet, finding it completely empty. Not even a hangar to pull apart and stab someone with. So I reluctantly grabbed the soap seeing as it was literally the only thing remotely resembling a weapon, and sat on the bed, watching the door.

I don’t know how long I sat there but eventually I heard the door shake, like something was trying to get in. As I was preparing to clobber the monster with my bar of soap, a voice I recognized called through the door. “C’mon, Y/N! Open the door,” Luke said. I didn’t dare move. I didn’t want to see him. “Open the door or I break it down!” he demanded.

It was either open the door or have absolutely no protection from the monsters so I reluctantly got up. “Okay, okay!” I answered. “Just give me a second.” I climbed off the bed, removing the chair. I only twisted the handle, letting the door open slightly before going back to the bed to put some distance between us.

As Luke was locking the door again, I took my chance. Jumping, I tried to bring the bar of soap down on him but he turned, grabbing my wrist. “Come on, you had to have known that wouldn’t work,” he smiled.

I only gave him a burning stare. “It was worth a shot,” I said, trying to pull my hand away. But his grip held fast, not letting me pull away.

“So I guess you still hate me?”

“Yeah,” I answered. “You kidnapped me and are now holding me hostage on a monster infested ship.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” he dismissed, once again brushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “Then we’ll be together forever.”

Masterlist

[nanamistie]

Can you do any of the Haikyuu boys x Fem!reader, where they get into an argument (with an angst ending please🥹🥹🥹) if you can’t that’s perfectly fine <3

Haikyuu boys getting in an argument with Fem!reader, and never solve the problem.

Warnings: angst, no comfort, swearing, harsh words, cheating, heavy breakups.

Oikawa

You were such a perfect couple, at least, that's what you thought. You were so proud of him, always comforted him after losing, he cared for you, he helped you with school. It was kinda weird that he never showed you publicly, or even mentioned that he has a relationship in interviews, but those didn't matter that much to you. You were in love, right? So then, why did you find him like this?

“Oikawa how could you do this to me?” you asked him desperately trying to hear that it was just a dream. “I’m sorry, I got bored of this relationship’’ he simply replied. Your eyes widened. “Y-You got b-bored?? Oikawa Tooru, how could you? I was there to wipe your tears when you lost, and I still didn't get bored -you paused- i hoped and prayed that one day you’ll win and be happy, and I would’ve wiped those tears again because they would’ve been of joy. And you got b-bored?” you looked at him with tears running down your cheeks. “I don't need to explain myself, it’s not my fault you were dumb and got attached” and with that he simply left you there, crying all by yourself.

Atsumu

He was so full of himself tonight. His team won an official match against Karasuno, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to treat you like this.

“How about we celebrate by eating out?” you asked while he sat on your shared bed. “Nah, I'll go talk to the boys and maybe play a game or two” he said standing up from the bed. “Why don’t you celebrate with me and you celebrate with them? I was there for you in stands of all your matches”

“Y/n, they are my teammates, they are more important than you are. Plus, you are a woman, why don’t you go back in the kitchen and make me something to eat.” your face got all red and flushed, you grabbed your purse and hit him in the head with full force. “Fuck you!” you grabbed your keys and left the apartment.

You slept at your friend's house, actually, you barely slept. You waited for him to call you all night, but he never did.

Kuroo

The last few days had been very tense. You and your boyfriend Kuroo were having a lot of small arguments,about the fact that he got late home almost everyday, he wasn’t giving you enough attention, you couldn’t come to his matches, things like this. But none of the small fights ended like this one in this morning:

“All I’m saying is that you could come home earlier from practice, or at least bother to text me that you’re gonna be late, it’s like you don’t even care that I'm here waiting for you day and night!” you yell at him. “Whatever Y/n, I’m late to practice” you both knew this was a lie. But you heard him mutter under his breath “I wanted a break anyway.”

And with that, he left. He left with no goodbye, no explanation, no excuses. You felt your whole world collapsing on you. You sat with your knees to your chest, crying, hoping he will come back and tell you that he didn’t mean what he just said.

Bokuto

Today he lost another game. And he felt like it was all his fault. So why won't he blame somebody else and maybe let his anger out on that person too?

“Baby, Kou, it’s fine, it’s just a game” you get interrupted by him. “No, it’s not just a game, Y/n, it’s volleyball, everything is important about it! WELL, I MEAN HOW WOULD YOU KNOW WHEN YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE A HOBBY, YOU NEVER DO ANYTHING! ALL YOU DO IS BOTHER ME AND KEEP DISTRACTING ME FROM THE ONLY THING THAT I REALLY LOVE!!” you pause your breathing. You felt so guilty, you look down, you don’t even dare maintaining eye contact with your “boyfriend”. Tears pick at your eyes, and you cross your arms.

“Yeah, sure, cry, that’s all you can do, since you know what I just said is true.” You felt those words cut so deep, your heart broke in a million pieces.

Osamu

You never really learned how to cook, but seeing your boyfriend cook everyday made you learn a few things, so you thought you could make something special for him tonight. I mean, what could go wrong? Everything.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU, YOU WASTED SO MUCH INGREDIENTS, AND YOU STILL FUCKING BURNED IT, HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE?!” he yelled at you, showing you the mess you made in his kitchen. “I'm really sorry, I just wanted to make something good for you once…”

“Well, apparently you can’t, so why don't you just leave?” You looked up at him, but his gaze scared you- there was no more love in his eyes, not even a little bit. What was wrong with you, were you that hard to love?

Iwaizumi

“I love listening to you” you confess to him. “You do?” you look at him, reassuring him “Yes baby, of course i do! Even when you talk about how much you hate Oikawa, you know, i had a friend that i hated her the exact same way but-”

“Well if you like listening to me, then why do you make it about yourself?” you froze. Did you just do that? “I-” you looked into his eyes searching for his love and reassuring but where were those? “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to, you know that, right? I’m really sorry, Haji, look at me” you tried grabbing his face but he pushed your hands away. “Just leave me alone already, with your excuses and everything. I’m getting tired of this. We’re done.”

You hated yourself. That small mistake you didn’t even know you made, cost you everything.

...

Hey!! Of course I can write this! Sorry it took a long time, someone caught a cold and couldn't do it on time. Hope you liked it!

💕💕💕