#whatever. all of this is whatever. but i was reminded of smth i thought a year ago n just . | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wholoveseggs · 6 months ago

Note

hi! ik youve done smth similar to this but i'd like to request like an enemy-to-lover elijahxreader with him just being an asshole. with eventual smut and teasing. ty!

The Gardener {Part One}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part One

The relationship between witches and vampires has always been fraught with complexity— a toxic mix of power and revenge. Raised to preserve nature’s balance, you’ve been taught that vampires are a perversion of life itself. You have a duty and a purpose, to eliminate all vampires. You're willing to do whatever it takes to fulfill it, even if that means falling into bed with the enemy.

♡♡ Thanks for the request beautiful anon! This is a story I've wanted to tell for a while, I hope y'all enjoy it...♡♡

3.7k words - Warnings: no smut in this one, but lots of drama, angst, violence and deception... reader is a bit of a fanatic, witches, magic, murder && vervain...

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

{Elijah Mikaelson Tag-List }

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming

@spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse

@cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2

@itsjulzandmydiamonds @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury

@amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28

@sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @sekaishell @b1tchy

@loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123 @iamawkwardandshy @ziayamikaelson

@absolutemarveltrash @darkened-writer @nina6708 @evasmlp

You wiped the sweat off your brow before picking up another bag of soil. Entering through the front gates of the compound, you dropped the bag next to the others and paused to catch your breath. You took a few more steps down the hall, entering a lavishly decorated courtyard. You had always been curious about what the compound looked like on the inside; you were not disappointed. Beautiful ivy laced up the old walls, spanning over arched balconies and expensive antique furniture was thoughtfully placed throughout. It was cozy, fantastical, and a little medieval; the only hint of modernity was string lights artfully hanging about.

It was easy to get swept up in the beauty of the place, so you had to remind yourself of all the evil the people that lived here had done. It was a sobering thought and you felt a surge of righteous anger. Your mind raced back to the countless people who had been hurt by these monsters. The innocent lives lost.

The ancestors had bestowed a glorious mission upon you and you were honored to be chosen. To take down one of the oldest and most powerful families of vampires was no small feat. It was not something you took lightly.

You returned to your task and carried on with your work. Gathering your tools from your car and retrieving the last bag of soil from the trunk. It was all very heavy, and the warm Louisiana weather was making you thirsty. You lugged the remaining supplies back inside the gate, dropping them down into a pile. Letting out a relieved sigh, you leaned against the wall and took a long sip from your water bottle, then another, then a third one to finally quench your thirst. You pooled a bit more of the water into your hands and splashed it on your warm face.

"Can I fetch you a wheelbarrow?" said a smooth voice from across the courtyard.

You spun around to find an amused looking gentleman, dressed in a three-piece suit. The infamous Elijah Mikaelson. He was not exactly what you had imagined, though it wasn't entirely surprising. A good predator hides behind a pleasing facade.

He was attractive, that was certain and he had the sort of charisma that could disarm you. He was smiling, his eyes dark and intense, like he could see right through to your skin and bones.

You put on your best smile, trying to be friendly and non-threatening. "Yes, that would be very helpful, thank you," you said breathlessly, wiping the water and sweat from your face.

He nodded and disappeared down the hall. You watched him go, admiring his handsome features as he left. You had a good feeling about this, he could be your way in.

You stepped further into the center of the courtyard, straining your neck trying to get a look at the opulent rooms beyond the second-floor balconies. What you were looking for was probably up there somewhere, just waiting for you to take it.

Elijah returned, pushing a large wheelbarrow before him.

"Thank you," you said, as he handed it off to you.

"It's nothing," he replied with a soft smile.

"Are you Klaus? I'm the one you hired to plant your garden," you replied politely, extending your hand. You needed to play the part of the naive gardener, clueless to who and what he was.

He chuckled, glancing at the bags of soil piled at the entrance. "No, I'm not Niklaus, but I did deduce what you were here for. My name is Elijah; Niklaus is my brother," he took your hand and shook it gently.

You knew exactly who he was, practically learning his name not long after you learned your own. He was the poised one, the liar, the deceiver. You had been taught to be wary of him, for his soft words and empty promises always led to death.

You didn't let any of this show, smiling back at him and saying, "Well, it's nice to meet you, Elijah."

It was a simple performance, all you needed to do was maintain it, add a bit of sincerity to your mannerisms. You pretended to be flustered by his charm, reaching up and twiddling the piece of verbena you had braided into your hair.

"So do you two own this place? It's beautiful," you remarked, looking up once again at the stunning architecture. "The ivy is incredible."

"Thank you; it's been in our family for years. Would you like a tour of the place?" He said, his eyes on your twiddling hand. You immediately put your arm down.

"I would love to, but I promised your brother I would finish setting everything up before the end of the day," you replied, pointing to the pile of supplies.

"It's quite alright, I will help you."

"Oh no, it's okay, I can manage-"

"Please," he said, his brown eyes looking deeply into yours.

This almost felt too easy, a part of you was suspicious, but you couldn't deny the thrill of playing the game. If you could win the favor of a Mikaelson, it would certainly help your cause.

"Alright," you replied with a nod. "Could you show me to your greenhouse?"

"Of course, follow me," he replied, walking ahead.

You picked up your bag of fertilizer and began the task of wheeling the heavy materials across the courtyard. Elijah glanced back at you with a concerned look on his face.

"Let me," he offered.

"That's alright, I've got it," you said, pushing the wheelbarrow with a grunt.

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the matter further. He led the way towards the back of the estate, opening the doors for you. He had a way about him, a posture and stride of a man who had the confidence to do anything.

Because he wasn't a man, but a beast, and the world was his prey. You had to remind yourself not to be intimidated, even if it was difficult. You had trained for this, prepared yourself to face the most vile of creatures.

The greenhouse was large, with old, wooden tables full of tools and gardening supplies. The sunlight shone through the glass, illuminating the rows and rows of empty flower beds. You smiled, admiring the beauty of the space. It was the perfect place to create, to nurture life. The irony of it being located at the center of the den of death made you laugh.

Elijah gave you a curious look. "Is something funny?"

"It's nothing," you replied. "I'm just excited to get started. The weather is perfect."

He raised an eyebrow, looking a bit skeptical, his eyes traveling down your body, taking in your appearance. You looked a bit eccentric, with a pair of overalls covered in colorful patches and flowers braided into your hair. It was all a part of the persona, an act, and it worked. He relaxed his stance and gave you a smile, then he took the wheelbarrow from your hands and unloaded the soil with ease.

"You didn't have to do that. If you keep helping me like this, I might have to pay you and not the other way around," you joked, setting down your bag of tools on the workbench across from the door.

He smiled, taking a step back and raising his hands playfully in mock surrender. He leaned against the door frame, surveying you as you unpacked your things. "How long have you been a gardener?" He asked.

"I've been doing this professionally since I was eighteen, but I've loved it my whole life," you replied honestly, setting the seeds you had brought with you on the table. "I own a shop not far from here."

He nodded, glancing at the bags of fertilizer and plants, then back at you. "Do you enjoy it?"

"Of course. What's not to enjoy? Being able to create something beautiful, nurturing it, watching it grow. I love it."

You were being sincere and honest this time, no need to change everything about yourself. He studied you carefully, then made his way towards you, pulling out his handkerchief and gesturing for you to take it. "You have some soil on your forehead."

You blushed, taking the fabric and cleaning yourself; that was entirely on accident, but it was working well for your act. "Hazards of the job," you said, giving him a sweet smile and handing it back to him.

He smirked, sliding the used handkerchief into his pocket with a practiced grace. "It's no problem at all; I'll leave you to your work," he moved to leave when he suddenly paused and turned back to face you. "I don't mean to be impolite, but what do you have in your hair?"

"What?" You replied, feeling the side of your head where your hair was braided. You knew exactly what he was talking about, but it was important to feign innocence. "Oh, it's verbena, one of the plants your brother asked me to grow," you pulled the flower out of your hair and twirled it between your fingers. "It's an herb, and it smells nice, too," you lifted the blossom towards him.

He didn't make any move to take it from you, and you knew exactly why. Verbena was known for repelling vampires, you had braided the sprigs into your hair and woven it into the band of your hat. They were small enough to be ignored, but they were powerful.

"Out of curiosity, what else did he ask you to grow?" He asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Hmm, let's see," you turned away from him searching for the list you had left in your bag. "Monkshood, Sage, Yarrow, Verbena, and Winter bloom," you read off to him. "Klaus told me he liked the colors together."

You both knew that was utter bull shit. All of the plants were herbs with various magical properties, especially in the hands of a witch.

"Hmmm, of course he did, my brother can be very particular," he replied, looking a bit uneasy.

"It sounds like a diabolical witch's brew straight out of a fairy tale," you laughed, and so did he, but the tension was still there.

"It does, doesn't it." He paused for a moment, as though he was debating whether or not he should say something. "The verbena suits you. You should keep wearing it in your hair."

You smiled, blushing and twirling the flower between your fingers, "Thank you, I think I will."

"I will leave you to your work. My brother will be returning shortly, so if you have any questions, please feel free to ask him."

"Thank you," you replied cheerfully, "I appreciate that."

With that, he walked out of the greenhouse, shutting the door behind him. Once you were alone, the smile dropped from your face. Your hands were shaking and the adrenaline was coursing through your body. You were scared and excited all at the same time, the rush was overwhelming. It had been a risk, to flirt so brazenly with danger, but it had paid off.

Soon you would have your prize and the ancestors would honor you for generations to come.

You had your headphones on, humming along to your music as you worked on planting a row of winter bloom. It had taken a couple of hours to organize all the flowerbeds and fill them with soil. Now, the hardest part was getting everything planted.

You felt a large vibration through the floor, then another. You stood, pulling off your headphones; a blood-curdling scream echoed through the hallway, along with a loud crash coming from the courtyard. You quickly shut off the music and crept towards the door, peeking your head out. You heard angry voices and saw the shadow of a fight moving along the walls.

You stepped out into the open, walking slowly towards the noise, your spade clutched tightly in your fist. You peeked around the corner to find a gruesome sight.

Crumbled on the floor was what looked to be a pile of bodies, blood pooling out around them. Another scream came from above. You looked up to see Klaus on the third floor, holding a woman by her neck as he dangled her over the railing. Her feet kicking erratically as she helplessly struggled.

"You know the rules, no magic in the quarter," he yelled, his voice crackling with rage, pulling the woman close to his face. "You witches think you can make moves against my family and live," he said in hushed fury. "Now I have to use you and your conspirators as an example."

The woman gasped and clawed at his arm. Her face was turning blue, and her eyes were bulging. Klaus glanced down, meeting your eyes. Then he dropped her, her scream cut off as she hit the floor, a loud crack reverberating through the compound.

Suddenly, Klaus was in front of you. You tried to use the spade to defend yourself, striking out in his direction. He laughed and grabbed it from you with extreme ease. He then planted both of his hands against the wall on either side of your head. His eyes were black with murder, blood dripping from his grinning mouth. You tried to look away from his horrifying face, too frightened to even scream.

It was him, the fabled beast, the abomination. You could hear the voices of your ancestors, thousands of voices yelling out in anger, screaming at him.

Kill him, kill him, kill him, they chanted, louder and louder until it was all you could hear.

He grabbed your face, forcing you to look into his eyes and all the chanting turned to screams of fear and agony. Like they were being slaughtered by him all over again.

"Hello love, you must be the new gardener," he said, his words soft and gentle, "I'll be sure to give you a generous tip, for services rendered."

You wanted to tell him that he was the devil, the monster, the bringer of death. That you would be the one to end him. But you were paralyzed with terror, the screams and images were too much. You shut your eyes tight, trying to block it all out, but it was impossible. You started to sob, tears rolling down your cheeks, mixing with the dirt on your face.

"Look at me," he said softly, his fingers digging painfully into your cheeks.

You opened your eyes, your vision blurry and your head spinning. He had a strange look on his face, half amused, half concerned. He brushed away your tears with his thumbs, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"You won't remember anything about today; all you know is that you did another excellent day of work and finished all the planting," he said slowly, staring deeply into your eyes.

He let go of your face and offered you the spade. You looked down, taking it from his steady hand with your shaking one. He believed he could compel you, and you had to convince him that was true. You swallowed, taking a deep breath, remembering your training, focusing on slowing down your heart, relaxing your muscles. You couldn't panic, or you would die.

You looked back up at him, and he seemed pleased with himself, smiling brightly, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Go back to your work," he said, patting you on the shoulder before disappearing down the hall.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you tried to compose yourself. You were so scared you could barely stand. You had faced the beast, and you had survived. The screams in your head were deafening, the images of the dead witches flashed through your mind, the pain of their deaths searing through your body. But slowly, all their garbled words turned into one unifying chant.

Death to all vampires, death to all vampires, you whispered, echoing their words, clutching your spade tightly in your fist.

You half walked, half ran from your car to your shop, scrambling inside. You threw your tool bag behind the counter and headed to the back room. You faced the stone wall, and with trembling fingers, you slid aside the brick that hid the hidden latch. Your hand was shaking so hard you could barely get the door open.

Once it swung open, the scent of incense wafted through the air, filling your nose. The others had already gathered, all seven of them, the other witches who were brave enough to make a stand against the vampire scourge.

You rushed into the small room and shut the door behind you, turning to face them. They were waiting for you, looking at you expectantly.

"Report," Agnes demanded, her eyes narrowed and her hands gripping her cane tightly.

"They don't suspect a thing," you said, your voice still a little shaky. "The abominations bought my act,"

"And the ash?" Agnes asked.

"Location still unknown," you replied.

She nodded, seeming satisfied with the news, "very well,"

"How was it? Facing them, what were they like?" Your friend Beatrice asked, her brown eyes wide with concern.

"It was horrible," you replied, "they are just as ancestors say,"

"We need to plan the next steps," Maeve interjected, she was always impatient, wanting everything to happen as soon as possible.

"Maeve," Beatrice chastised. "If they suspect something is amiss, this could all fall to ruin,"

"We have a way in, that's the first step completed, we should not waste any time," Maeve argued. "Y/n can only plant a garden so slowly, when she is done we will lose all access to the compound."

Agnes was about to reply, but the door chime of the shop rang, cutting her off. "I will handle this," you said, taking a deep breath.

You looked to your sisters and nodded, leaving them and going back out into the shop. You would be right back to finish the meeting, you just had to quickly deal with a customer.

You put a smile on your face and rounded the corner, only to come face to face with one of the monsters you were just talking about.

Elijah.

He was standing by a shelf, looking at a potted plant. You swallowed, composing yourself before walking towards him.

"Mr. Mikaelson," you said as cheerfully as you could, "what can I do for you today?"

He looked up at you and smiled, putting the pot back down.

"I apologize for the intrusion," he said politely. "I wanted to see your shop, it's lovely," he gestured to the display shelves and many plants hanging from the ceiling.

"Thank you, I've spent a lot of time making it this way," you replied, feeling a bit proud.

"Your work in the greenhouse is quite impressive," he said, looking back at you, a curious expression on his face.

"It was nothing," you laughed nervously, rubbing the back of your neck, trying not to meet his gaze.

"I wanted to ask you something," he continued, walking around the store, looking at the various plants.

"Ask away,"

"You're a witch," he said casually, picking up a pot of herbs, taking in their fragrance.

You felt your heart stop, but you tried to remain calm. You had prepared for this, bumps in the road are to be expected.

"That's more of a statement than a question." You said as calmly as you could.

"Yes, well, you've done a very good job of hiding it, so much so that my brother didn't even suspect," he glanced at you, his brown eyes dark, almost black. "It seems strange that you would take a job as a gardener in a vampire's home."

"Why does that matter?" You asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

He stepped closer, and you backed up, bumping into the shelving behind you. Leaning down, his face hovering inches from yours, you could feel the heat of his breath on your face, and you were frozen in place.

"I like you," he whispered, "and I want to give you a chance to explain yourself."

You stared him directly in the eye, trying not to flinch or show any emotion. "It's important to protect yourself in these times,"

He chuckled, looking amused. "You speak of the ban on magic? My brother's rule of the quarter?"

"Yes," you replied simply.

He nodded, a small smile on his lips. "And how would you like to change that?"

You swallowed, the voices of your ancestors ringing in your ears. Lie, lie, lie, they commanded.

"I'm simply trying to survive," you answered, it wasn't a lie, just an incomplete truth. "I have no love for my kind,"

"Hmm," he mused, his dark eyes studying your face. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your cheek. "So, tell me, are you planning on harming my family?"

You could feel his energy, his power. He was ancient, powerful, and deadly. "Of course not," you replied, looking up at him, praying your face didn't betray you.

He didn't respond, his gaze searching yours. He was close, so close, you could smell the cologne on his skin, the subtle hints of soap and shampoo. You knew the stories, the horrors, here you were, staring into the eyes of death himself.

You leaned in and kissed him, placing a hand on his chest. It was a wild gamble, but one that you hoped would explain your nervous energy.

He stiffened, surprised at the sudden contact. Then, as if he remembered himself, his hands grabbed you, pulling you in tightly against him. You had been told over and over that vampires were monsters, cold and heartless, but the heat radiating from him was overwhelming. He was so gentle and his lips were so soft. He pulled away, his eyes boring into yours. You were sure that he could see into your soul, see all the secrets and plans you were hiding. But, if he did, he didn't say anything.

"Well," he said, releasing you and straightening his suit jacket, "I'll see you tomorrow then."

You were about to say something when he was gone. You let out a sigh of relief, slumping against the shelves.

"Shit," you whispered.

You could see your path now, the way forward to victory, to eliminate the world of vampires. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself. You couldn't fail, not now, not when you had come so far.

All that was required was that you seduce a monster.

{Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Four}

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sovksluv · 11 months ago

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hi! could you do something with luke castellan x a lowkey bitchy reader? like very snarky and kinda bratty, but is only rly sweet to him?

sparks

𖤐 . pairing - Luke Castellan x gn!reader

𖤐. summary - you’re a hater at heart (so real) buuuuut you have the sweetest soft spot for your sweetest “best friend”

𖤐 . content includes - mean/hater!reader (as you should), random (probably douchey) ares kid, allusions to crushes, the word loser (im watching it so that’s in my mind rn)

𖤐 . word count - 536

𖤐 . taglist - @perseus-jackass @niktwazny303 @st4rzl7

𖤐 . a/n - sorry this sucks 😭 but i hope you guys like it !! also i had smth else to say but i forgot it so oh well

“okay?” you retorted, dragging out the ‘y,’ venom laced between the waves of your words. the Ares kid in front of you — whom you were arguing with, paused, face red and searing with anger, searching for his next comeback.

you smirked in a momentary victory, preparing to finish off your battle with clever last words however, your attention was drawn away at the shuffling beside you.

the familiar warmth of a hand on your leg sent your head flying to the side, face immediately lighting up as your eyes were engulfed in the ever so familiar sight of his chocolate curls.

“hey, Sparks! what’s happening?” said Luke, who then began immediately stuffing his face, eyes never leaving yours.

the beaming smile on your face was a great contrast to your previous heated moment, which you had just been reminded of at the sound of a throat clearing.

both of your attention was drawn to the Ares kid who had yet to leave, unlike others who were in his situation before. “what are you still doing here?” you snapped, firing up again.

after a moment of silenced shock, he went to speak again, only to be cut off. “i asked a question! now leave!”

he scoffed, slamming his palms on the table as he dramatically stomped away. “he should win an award with all that drama.” you sneered, eyes practically rolling into the bag of your head.

Luke snorted from beside you, hiding an amused smirk with his chewing as he gave you a look, eyebrows raised. “what!” you yelled, a smile taking over your features again.

he shrugged, failing to hide his laughter as you playfully shoved him, your own laughter following suit. “nothing, nothing!”

you laughed, eyes brightening with fiery joy. “why are you laughing at me, Luke?” he smiled, eyes tightly scrunching as he scooted himself closer to you, erupting warmth throughout the both of you.

“it’s just funny,” he reasoned, suddenly breaking your eye contact to stare at his empty, devoured plate.

your eyebrow raised, interest peaked as you shoved him again, his head instantly turning back to you. “what is?”

“your attitude.” he quipped, very, very slight fear etched in his words.

“my attitude?”

“yes your attitude. like- you’re so sassy to everyone.”

you scoffed, eyes scrunching up. “well, everyone but you.”

Luke thought for a second, realization crossing over his face. “yeah. everyone but me. why?” he asked, smirk returning and eyebrows raising in anticipation.

“because I like you.” you answered, voice strong despite your weary insides, hoping Luke would fail to understand what you were truly saying.

he softly chuckled, his sweet smirk reappearing. “yeah, cus’ i’m special.”

you snorted, “yeah, you really are special.”

Luke scoffed in offense, and now it was his turn to shove you, dramatically crossing his arms at your words.

“whatever, Sparks. you’re just a hater.”

you laughed, dragging your body closer to his as the two of you continued firing snarky remarks back and forth.

neither of you seemed to notice or care about the stares from the campers around you.

it was unlikely that anyone would understand your unexplained softness towards the hermes boy. they just didn’t understand you like he did.

losers.

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gamblersdoll · 2 months ago

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hihi! idk if you’ve done smth like this , if not could u write like apologetic typa sex w denki after he fucks up or smth, like if he reaalllyy pisses u off and you wont speak to him

js a random thought i had😭😭

ooouuu anon i like you, have a cupcake!

“please, ma— just talk to me!” hes been devastated for about a week, knowing he shouldnt had added someone. it wasn’t a girl, but it was definitely someone who had the hots for him. and knowing denki? he could pull anyone he wanted. “i said i was sorry!”

“and i said i was mad, you know better, you barely short circuit anymore.” you remind him for the eleventh time in person. you had approximately six hundred and fourteen messages from him alone, maybe he was remorseful. “hitoshi is literally the college manwhore, so why did you add him back?”

“i dunno okay? i was just being nice!”

“and where does ‘bein nice’ get you? dead in a ditch, a kid, or some kind of disease.” you remind him one of your golden rules, being nice didn’t necessarily mean you get that back. “you might as well have texted hitoshi, since you wanna be so nice.”

what you dont necessarily expect is him to stop you in your tracks— in your own apartment, to get on his knees and bow to you. “boy, what the hell—“

“please,” he starts, his head low and he looks back up to you, puppy dog eyed. “ill let you do anything you want, whatever you want, ill be some toy or something even if you want to use me— just please, talk to me! ill make everything right again, please mama.”

“stop with all of the little pecks, you know better.” you pull his hair, showing his forehead and he nods.

“yes maam.”

you finally let go of your vice grip, his head going back down and you roll your eyes in pleasure. he finally realized what kind of timing you were on, and fuck, did he love it when you get mad. “yer squeezing my— fi-fingers, baby..” he says, “god, youre so tight..”

“less talking, more eating.” you remind, shoving his face in between your folds. “there you go.. did you just want to get used? is that what it was?” you ask, biting your knuckle to keep a moan in. “thats it.. use your tongue, baby.”

“so sorry..” he moans with your enlarged clit in his mouth. “sorry i followed him back..” he looked cute, his eyes heavy with lust and having your arousal up to his eyebrows. “ohmygoddd— you taste so good when you hate me..”

“such a dirty boy..” you moan, feeling his tongue lick up to your throat and his fingers press past your ring of muscle. “fuck— baby youll make me come already doin that..”

“the least i could do right..? fuckk—“ he moans with you, thrusting his fingers inside along with his hips. he was weird, pressing his hand against his groin and thrusting his fingers inside as if a cock. “forgive me, pleaaasee?” he draws out the moan, along with his thrusts.

“forgive you, baby— fuck, im comin!” he squeal, kissing his jaw and he licks at your cheek trying to catch your lips.

#dvorahasks #denki x black! reader #denki x black reader #denki x y/n #denki kaminari x reader #denki smut #denki headcanons #denki x reader #mha denki #bnha denki #denki kaminari #kaminari x black! reader #bnha kaminari #mha kaminari #kaminari x reader #gamblersdoll

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slu7formen · 10 months ago

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

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

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

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

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

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

₊˚⊹♡

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the first nights after you left were the worst.

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

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

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

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

"Luke!"

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

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

"Luke!"

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

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

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

"Luke!? Luke!"

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

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

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

"Luke!"

But it was you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And his breath hitched in his throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How is she?" Luke asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then he ran.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Luke!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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kyushiblast · 1 year ago

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⤷ 〝 jealous much? 〞

➞ pairings : grusha , arven , & jacq ( separate ) x gn! reader

➞ summary : how they react when jealous.

➞ genre : fluff

➞ cw / other : nothing

➞ a/n : need requests y’all

❝ grusha ❞

— ♥ the incident of his career hadn’t just affected him physically, a mental toll was in state along with it including his bit of possessiveness for you.

— ♥ he can’t help it. after all, you’re on his list of most cherished. and as cheesy as it sounds, he’d hate losing someone so precious to him as he’d lost his occupation.

— ♥ so when he sees this person shamelessly hitting on you, of course he’s going to step in and say something.

— ♥ glaseado mountain has a few forms. sometimes calm, sometimes sharp and unforgiving as if mad at the people climbing its skin. grusha’s cold persona towards the person embodied that.

— ♥ would probably threaten to pokémon battle. just because he’s an ice type gym leader doesn’t mean that he’ll just have ice type pokémon on hand every time, so he’d most likely use varieties including those you’ve traded with him.

— ♥ he’ll be levelheaded as much as he can until the other person initiates a snap or an aggressive show, but either way in the end he’ll definitely come up to you and ask if you’re okay.

— ♥ expect a brief hug after, and maybe a few kisses or two. he’s not too big on pda, especially if some people come by to watch him battle and he’s waiting for the area to clear up.

— ♥ but the best part is him being in denial about being clingy afterwards. that’s when teasing him is essential.

❝ arven ❞

— ❀ he’s the type to be suspicious and accusatory first, ask later.

— ❀ will cross his arms and be sassy. maybe something like, “is this person bothering you, (y/n)? i can deal with ‘em.”

— ❀ when he’s jealous he’s obvious. he’ll pull you in more, scowl and throw sarcastic comments at the other person, and he’ll suggest to go somewhere else.

— ❀ WILL throw in a regular pokemon challenge to the other if it gets to that point. like might as well make it a tradition or smth to go up to someone and challenge them whenever lmao ,, wait that already happens

— ❀ arven would also grasp onto your arm or sleeve subconsciously, afterwards backing away and apologizing after the person’s gone for just grabbing your arm.

— ❀ “i hate it when people just keep persisting on someone even when they’re obviously taken…” arven would sigh, “…but hey, it means you’re hot stuff if people keep coming to take you away from me!”

— ❀ then he’d offer to go on a picnic or something, whatever you’d like. he’s just glad that you’re there with him, no matter what.

❝ jacq ❞

— ☾ the other person isn’t gonna take jacq seriously. i mean, he does look like he just woke up, with his laid back attitude and ruffled clothing. but the charm in it was something you could admire, and clearly the other person didn’t see that.

— ☾ he’s a lil irritated. not just because this person’s competing against him, but also because they have a solid chance.

— ☾ they looked better and dressed better, they were smooth with talking, and in no way did jacq feel as if he could compete properly against them.

— ☾ you seemed to sense his thoughts, holding his hand comfortingly. his heart, as if a weight was pushed off of it, immediately lightened.

— ☾ THEN he had the confidence to say some things. and after you both left the scene, a semi-heartbroken person left behind, he’d kiss you on the forehead thanking you for everything.

— ☾ sure, it was just a small scenario that doesn’t hold much significance in one’s eye. but it strengthened your relationship in the end, and as dorky as it seems, it mattered.

— ☾ jacq’s a good person. he just needs you there to remind him of it. give him one compliment and he’ll pay back tenfold.

work of kyushiblast , please do not translate , copy , or repost here or on any other platform !!

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dollfacedsl1ut · 1 year ago

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Crystal Moon

dynamic: g!p ning x siren!fem reader

synonsis: ningning went to a nearby beach to clear her mind but there’s a unexpected visitor who she meets along the way

warnings: dubcon, manipulation, exhibition, seduction, dacryphilia (crying), begging, overstimulation, both are dominate at one point, Ning is a little depressed lmk if I’m missing smth !!!!

wc: 1,329 or 1.3k

A/N: in honor of my LONNGGGGG awaited return I’ve made something new plus I’m accepting bg requests!!

The old sand molted the shape of ningning feet as she walked along the beachside, this was the only way she would be able to think, everything was just so clouded in her mind and she needed to catch a break, whether it was paparazzi or stalkers following her it was all too much, this beach reminded her of the good times she had as a kid although it looked different��.. it was windier and cloudy all the time not a lick off sun in sight..

Ning rested against a large rock near the ocean the tidal waves marking their path in the brown sand, her eyes felted heavy as she glanced at the empty vodka bottle she had tucked away in her jacket, she knew she’d have to go back and face reality eventually but a little break wouldn’t hurt anyone

She let her eyes close for a brief second before a a sweet yet seductive tune played in her head, maybe it was the alcohol she thought over and over until the rhythm changed…”Yeah theres no way I’m dreaming” she thought as her legs dangled from the large rock, the tune got louder and more intense but the voice of whatever it was made her head foggy, foggier than it was before it was mind controlling in a way, she counted complain it was such as beautiful thing to hear but she felt like it was the only thing she heard the sound of the ocean water hitting the rocks gone, the sound of the birds chirping and flapping their wings erased, just the tune was heard, yeah she was in denial until a dark figure was seen moving from under the wooden brown bridge in front of her.

Maybe her suspicions were true she’s not dreaming…but in fact hallucinating Ning groaned as she lifted her body off the rock before plopping down on the sand, she could’ve swore she stepped on a seashell or a hermit crab? But nonetheless her foot was on a sharp object, she didn’t know if she wanted to check on her foot or follow the figure who released the tune..

She just couldn’t think straight so ignoring her very aching foot she went after it but the song got louder and more hypnotizing and intoxicating it felt like drinking the most throat burning alcohol in the world, right when it felt like she was gonna faint she spotted a dark purple tail she reached out to try and grab it but it moved upwards like it was begging Ning to touch it, but that’s when the song stopped as the tail turned into a pair of long soft legs

“H-hello” Ning said with a shaky voice unaware of the creature that was before her eyes, the now human walked in front of ning as she gawked, your skin was glistening as her eyes trailed from your body to your chest then your dark eyes, they looked lifeless to Ning but she didn’t move..she couldn’t move..it was like someone was holding her in place.. you were holding her place the song she heard wasn’t a dream or a hallucination it was you..you lead her here to do what exactly??

Your dark eyes pierced her skin, it made her feel invisible but when your hand touched and grasped her shoulder she knew you were real “w-who are you” she whispered “if I told you who I was I’d be banished so let’s just call me siren” her voice gave her chills as she nodded your presence drove her crazy but your body was hypnotic, needless to say there was a visble tent in her pants as she looked at you trembling “I must say I never seen another human on this beach in months” Ning almost came right there when you kept speaking to her, she didn’t know you could sense her arousal, your arms brung Ning in for a bare hug before dragging her under the wooden brown bridge, she wanted to scream and fight, she didn’t want to go with you, she didn’t know if you wanted to kill her or even take her away she was defenseless because she just had to come to you, she just had to be attracted to your song and follow you…

You reached the bridge as you placed her down on the sand this part was much darker and colder it made her nipples perk up under her gray hoodie, Ning was afraid but aroused, you straddles her hips as your hands rested on her shoulders “you know what I’m gonna do to you is your own fault right…..you purposely followed me for you’re own reasoning” she wanted to believe it wasn’t but your words persuaded her, a smile formed on your lips as you unzipped her hoodie, her skin was so and delicate, it was life one slice with your claws and her skin would be tainted

Your hands trailed to her pants as her tent was visible you smiles softly before pulling them down but leaving them on her thighs although you were gonna take advantage of her you didn’t want her to get horrifyingly sick, there was a sight of precum left in her boxers as you pulled them down revealing her cock, it stood upright as it smacked against her soft belly it was so thick and long, this was visibly the biggest you’ve ever seen even male sirens didn’t have this much girth you thought as you slide down your panties, there was a hint of worry on nings face as you lifted yourself up then guided down on her cock, the stretch was painful but bearable, you sank down until your clit reached her pelvis, Ning gasped and whimpered under you as her hands immediately went to your hips kneading the soft flesh, you tried your best to stay silent but it just felt too good your body weakened as you moved your hips against hers her cock felt good in your tummy, her tips was pushing and hitting your cervix as you got leverage and started to lift your hips and bounce on your cock, your whimpers didn’t go unproved by Ning as she kept kneading your hips while letting out whimpers or curses every other second, your cunt squeezed her cunt deliciously as your hips moved restlessly it was so magical and synchronized, her flesh slapped against yours as liquid ran down your legs she didn’t know you came yet until the white ring formed around her cock, she felt her high coming as you clamped around her, she didn’t know you could get this tight it was unbearable as tears rolled down her cheeks, she came inside your cunt with a loud cry as her hands squeezed you tight, but you didn’t stop you wanted to be full you haven’t felt like that in a while and she was your only option, her cock veins bulged and dragged against her spongy walls as you came again, your cum was beginning to soaked her joggers, Ning hiccuped as she pleaded and begged you to go faster, her feeble voice was such a turn on it made your cunt quiver around her, you felt her hands snake up your body and grasp your chest fondling with your nipples, you moaned at the sensation, as your hips stuttered.. you were close again but so was Ning her cock throbbed inside of your cunt as she squeezed and pinched your nipples your bottom lip tucked under your teeth as you came around her for the last time, Ning followed as her warm cum coated your walls.

Nings eyes closed as you lifted yourself off her, you cleaned her up but left her on the sand unconscious or conscious you’ll never know, but you did know she’d be back to look for you and always you’d be singing your tune wishing she would be the one to come find you….

#smut #ning smut #ningning aespa smut #aespa ningning smut #ning yizhuo smut #aespa ningning #aespa ning #ningning smut #ning yizhuo #ningning #karina aespa smut #karina smut #aespa smut #aespa pics #aespa icons #wlw smut #wlw post #g!p

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jasmines-library · 1 year ago

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Hello ml !! How’ve you been? <3

I was wondering if you’d be up for writing smth with the batfamily, and maybe their reaction to reader coming back home from a sleepover at their partners house, and telling them that they got cheated on?

Have a great day/evening/night <33 🫶

Heartbreak Doesn't Feel So Good.

Hello Hello! Thanks for requesting again, I always love to see you in my inbox. I hope you have been well. Sorry it's a little on the shorter side but I wanted to get this out for you today.

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

The first thing Jason noticed when you stepped through the door was that there were tears running down your face. He had always been observant, but he knew you well. He could tell that your mascara ran beneath your eyes from the way your shoulders were hunched to match your slow movements, gaze firm on the ground. And if he listened carefully enough, he could hear the sniffling that you failed to conceal as you tried to wipe away the evidence of your upset.

“What’s that matter?” He was up in a second, moving toward your side. His face and voice were laced with concern.

You had stayed the night round your partner's house and weren’t supposed to be back for at least a few hours. Jason had seen the way you left, grinning as you carried your bags to the car. But now you stood crestfallen, dropping your bag on the floor in defeat. Something had clearly gone wrong and Jason was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“What happened?” He frowned, helping you remove your jacket.

“I-” Your lip trembled as your eyes filled with tears again. Jason pulled you to his chest and let you weep.

After a tender moment, he guided you over gently to the couch where he sat you down and took your hand in his, repeating his question. His heart nearly broke when you looked up at him.

“They…They cheated on me.” your voice broke as you stuttered out what happened.

Jason felt his fingers clenching to fists.

“What?!” The voice hadn’t come from Jason. It had come from Tim who was passing by the room on his way back from the cave.

“I don’t know what happened…” You sobbed. “I thought we were fine. And then they left for a moment… their phone kept going off. So I checked it. I didn’t want to impose…but I thought it might have been something important. And then I saw her name. And the messages.”

“I swear to god-” Jason nearly growled.

“And when they came back into the room I confronted them. And they didn’t even try to deny it!” More tears streamed from your face, falling hot like acid. Like a lingering reminder. A cruel joke. “They just told me that ‘they didn’t love me anymore’. That they had ‘found someone better’. What kind of an answer is that?!-”

Tim tried to soothe you by placing a gentle hand on your arm. “Shh. It’s gonna be okay kid.”

“But…I don’t understand what I did wrong.”

“What’s going on?” Dick had arrived with young Damian in tow. The pair had been sparring and had decided to check up on Tim following his absence, but were starstruck to find you bawling on the couch.

“What’s wrong little bat?” Damian asked. His voice was surprisingly gentle and held much more concern than you thought was ever possible for the stubborn boy.

All four eyes watched you, anticipating you to speak. But you just couldn't, your mind was too busy and you didn’t dare utter the words that you were trying so hard to believe weren’t true. You knew that the moment you said them again all of your walls would come tumbling down, torn from whatever remaining supports were keeping them upright.

“They cheated on her.” Jason spat.

“What an asshole.” Damian jeered. He had seen how happy the pair of you were and the thought of someone switching up that quickly made him feel queasy.

“Oh y/n/n.” Dick sighed “I’m so sorry. That’s unfair.”

You shrugged.

“Didn’t even give her a reason.” Jason continued. You could practically see the steam coming from his ears, despite how he tried not to lose his temper for your sake. But the more you revealed the harder he was finding it. “Just left her at a snap of their fingers.”

“It’s their loss. They didn’t deserve someone like you in the first place.” Dick told you.

“Exactly.” Damian nodded in agreement. “You’re totally way out of their league.”

“You think so?” You sniffled.

“100%. You’re worth so much more than anything in this world and that asshole didn’t deserve any of you.”

A smile upturned at the corner of your lips. Tim reached out and wiped the tears away from your eyes.

“Hey. No more of that crying okay? It’s gonna be fine.”

You nodded, though you still couldn’t shake the sadness from your bones.

“Wanna watch shitty movies and eat ice cream?” Dick asked, sensing this.

“Please?”

And the four of them moved quickly, gathering pillows which they chucked onto the couch to create a pillow fort of sorts. Damian ran into the kitchen to grab ice cream, though he was uncertain of what flavour so he grabbed two alongside a handful of spoons and a plate of brownies that Alfred had just finished making. Then they made themselves comfortable on the couch, surrounding you in their embrace before letting you decide on a film to watch.

And so the five of you sat there for hours, watching chick flicks and trying to devour tubs of ice cream before it melted completely. As much as they would never admit it, Damian and Tim were mouthing along to the lines of the cheesy films, or singing along to the songs. One of their guilty pleasures. Jason seemed engrossed in the movies too, surprisingly. Though you weren’t sure if he was pretending to be interested and was actually plotting the inconspicuous murder of your partner as revenge. The thought made you chuckle. The five of you stayed bundled up on the couch until slowly, one by one you began to drift off and your heartbreak had been forgotten for a few hours at least.

When Bruce arrived back from his late night patrol and found you all together, his heart warmed. They were always going to take good care of you.

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

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marscantread7 · 7 days ago

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Not really a drabble, js smth I was thinking abt earlier. But I think the reason Caleb is so focused on the past and keeps mentioning it so much is bc he knows that things r abt to be a lot more grim for him and mc in the present and future. Like, things r abt to change and honestly, not for the better. Like he has to keep himself in check and not get too overwhelmed unless he wants to trigger that chip, which I think will have a major influence on his interactions w/ her from this point on. He's also the farspace fleet's colonel ffs😭😭😭 so he's gonna be a lot more distant + he has to deal w/ the trauma from the explosion now on top of all the trauma he has from the past w/ the experiments. He's also realizing that w/ mc being a hunter she really doesn't need to depend on him fr this time and I truly think that's killing him on the inside. So like, js to keep the negative thoughts and feelings at bay, he keeps mentioning "Oh! Remember when we were kids and..." "Oh doesn't this remind u of..." "Haha! I always used to do this to u..." and so on. Like I think that's why he likes cooking for her bc this lowkey gives him the opportunity to provide and care for her like he wants to do. Like I think he's clinging onto the past to gaslight himself into believing that if he stays in the past where he was happy and didn't have to really worry abt all this, the future's gonna be js as bright bc! Wow this exact thing happened when we were kids, such a happy time which makes this a happy time!!! He's trying to avoid whatever future is awaiting him and mc bc he knows it's not really gonna be the prettiest. Idk, like am I going insane chat? Does this make sense?

#love and deepspace #love & deepspace #lads #lnds #l&ds #caleb l&ds #lnds caleb #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #caleb x mc #love and deepspace mc #marshall cant write

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liquorflower · 15 days ago

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𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 — 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝

cw: sexual frustration, oral sex, creampie, unprotected sex, breeding (which I think is smth ooc), mentions of drugs, reader is literally this one and a virgin still, reader is just another soul trapped in sh, reader is in her 20’s, sad and touchstarved james 🤪 (i can tell both are bad people)

wc: 3k

a/n: original post of the gifs also, long time I don’t write this long so I send u an apologize if there’s any grammar mistakes 😭

how many time have passed after learning the truth? you couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. as you look at the cigarette between your fingers and the soft music drifting through the room numbs your senses, it reminds that all guilt has vanished. you’re free to leave yet you don’t want to. it’s like you’re expecting something or someone... even if the town decided you already paid for what you’ve done, some unseen force holds you here, tethering you to this place, trapped inside this building full pink neon lights, empty chairs surrounding a dimly lit stage, where a single pole stands at the center dancing for yourself all night long, when loneliness seemed to be unbearable.

james, on the other hand, the moment he got near you, you could tell something was off with him — his polite, almost too-reserved demeanor felt like a mask, and the way he clung to the purpose of finding his dead wife struck you as... hollow. It wasn’t something you could fully digest. It reminded you too much of yourself when you first arrived in silent hill—lost, desperate, and blindly clinging to a justification that didn’t quite fit. whatever it wanted from him, it was bound to be dark, messy, and painfully revealing.

there was something wrong about james, despite the unease prickling your skin, you couldn’t deny something about him was tantalizing, magnetic even.

the building ahead of james appears abandoned, but when he stepped inside, he found himself in a disturbingly clean strip club. the atmosphere is uncanny — softly music from unseen speakers, and the room is bathed in a sickly pink glow. the space feels alive, pulsating with an energy he can’t explain. it’s seductive and eerie.

and then, he finds you dancing bewitchingly in that pole, enjoying all of yourself, as if nothing else matters. every sway of your hips and arch of your back radiate a confidence that seems out of place in a town like this. he doesn’t know what to say, or if he should say anything. part of him wants to turn away, but something deeper, something he can’t quite name, keeps him rooted to the spot.

“didn’t think anyone would showed up tonight.” you sway playfully around the pole and you stare at him, smiling joyfully, to then lean on the metal bar, as if it were part of the show.

“no... i’m just... lost.” he stammers, his voice shaky and uncertain. then, shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts, he takes a cautious step closer, “i mean, what are you doing in here? there’s monsters outside. it is not a safe place for a girl like you.”

“girl like me?” you huff blatantly, rolling down the pole and crawling towards where he is. the stage platform is relatively high. it reaches a little above his waist, so he can see your hips and ass swaying as you approach. automatically the first thing he does is step back a little, but without letting his view deviate from your movements. “you surely did something bad. you’re not here by merely coincidence. i was just like you and i figured out the wickedness of this place. the best thing you can do is walk away or maybe figure out what you're doing here.”

you barely remember how many times he came back at your place, but if you only knew the way james looked at you... you were nothing like mary. you were more confident about yourself, much younger, sexier. every time you encountered him, the more he learned about the truth, you would throw in his face the horrible thing he did to the woman and yet he would always come back — over and over again.

whether he meant to or not, you reminded him of the darkest parts of him — what he’d been trying to suppress ever since mary fell ill. and he hated her. he resented her so much that it was a burden that was getting harder to bear every day. that misery was growing every day and it brought the two of you closer. so vibrant and broken, a beautiful mess already ruined and it felt so disgusting to think that he wanted to take you into an even deeper abyss. even after discovering the truth, he cared more about you —screwing you was what he wanted most now.

and he, dejected, returns to your feet. deep down, he hopes for comfort from you. you know that the weight of his crime afflicts him.

you get near him, and pity is the only thing that you can feel for him because he looks sorrowful. he doesn’t look at your eyes and has his head downcast avoids all eye contact.

“could you think you can um…” if he were more brave, he surely would ask you to take all of your clothes. now that he has nothing to lose, he’s even more ashamed just to think he’s being unfaithful to the deceased.

“yes?” you pretend to ask innocently, waiting for him to ask you to make obscene things for him.

such a pretty body, lonely in this town lo as he is.

“please, dance for me.” his breath ragged as his eyes linger on you. he feels humiliated to even notice those words coming out from his mouth.

trying to remain playfully, you do what you’ve been ordered to, but you can’t help but now feel a burden, more for mary. now this feels wrong and with your hands leaning towards the pole, you are wondering if mary is there, judging you for lusting over him and now an eerie feeling of sadness takes over your body.

his fists clenched and he remains looking at the bewitched dance, with a dead, pierced gaze that is fixed on you. all of this is so off and yet, thoughts of him placing hands all over you, images of your body are flooding his mind.

trying to regain composure, though he may have not noticed those ideas crossed your mind, you just ask him: “you enjoyed it, dear?” letting out a giggle.

“yeah, sure” he hesitates. a big pressure is crushing his chest and all he can do is to step aside and take a seat in one of the main leather couches scattered in all over the place. of course you follow him, mostly for that answer didn’t please you at all

this is the closest he’s ever let you get near him.

“I can't do this.” he squints his eyes, swallows saliva and throws his head back in the header.

he’s stiff and you also take a seat, with your legs lying on the opposite side.

he lies. you know he does. the lascivious look he used to lay on you every time he saw you says otherwise. it would be lying to himself so pathetically. if only you knew the things he thought about...

“i know it's not true. you don't have to lie to yourself like that.”

your hand rests on his leg, playfully and pretending to do it innocent. adrenaline rushes through his body. and yet, he tenses. he wants to push you away, to pull away, but he doesn't and his breath hitches. what he longed for most, what he couldn't have for so long... now to hold it in his hands is sinful. and the touch of your fingertips brings him back to the reality he is living now: one in which mary ceased to exist.

he looks at you — the touch of your fingers on his crotch makes him shudder. it's the moment when he decides to let his baser impulses take over, with his heart pounding.

you snuggle against his chest. from your free hand, your index finger fiddles with his chin. he lowers his gaze, still shy of meeting your eyes and his nose brushes against your forehead. your eyes contemplate him, waiting for a reaction as the fingers of your other hand are now perched on the bulge forming beneath his pants. the mere touch of real skin jolts him and brings him back to what is happening.

his arm reaches down through the leather of the couch and rests his hand on your ass, which and barely half of it was covered by a short denim skirt and as if on an alluring call, skin and skin meet, now only being blocked by the thin fabric of your panties. a shiver runs down your back, the thrill of knowing how far he can go takes over your body.

“see? you can't deny that you want me.” your touch goes from delicate and subtle to a much more obvious one. your whole palm now probes more thoroughly into the fabric of his pants.

and he can’t argue anything because he knows you're right. his hand disappears between the skirt fabric, under the strap of your panties and the reserved — rather, repressed — touch, it’s like someone trying something new, afraid of getting hurt.

and frantically, not knowing how to act, you lick over the bulge that is now more evident and turn your eyes back to him. you let out a giggle and plant a kiss on his lips. and finally his true self comes to the surface, grabs the back of your neck and kisses you impatiently. now he no longer had to lie to himself. he desired you from afar and it's so pathetic. he feels so miserable because how long he longed to feel a warm tongue, the warmth of a human body and it’s evident by the way he plays with your mouth and your inexperienced lips. a violent kiss from a man who perhaps and before his wife has known other women, hungry for desire and taking out his frustrations on you was too much.

when you pull away for a moment to catch your breath from the wild kiss, he pulls you back into his mouth and all you have left to do is let go. he grunts and his breathing becomes erratic each time he wraps his tongue around yours.

“i shouldn’t want this... but god... you make it impossible.” he only stops for a moment to whisper in your ear. his shaved beard caresses your cheeks and you sit back up normally to sprawl your legs and give him more room to continue what he interrupted.

and roughly, your lips unite again. if he was honest, he had completely forgotten how to touch a woman and his movements going down were clumsy and awkward. he bites your lips and all you can do is open your mouth to give him better access to it.

“see what you’re doing to me, mhm? you’re driving me insane.” he hoarse and growls.

he puts aside the fabric of your panties and caresses with two of his fingers your slippered slit. his movements go up and down, calloused pads teasing your clit and entering inside your cunt. his fingers feel thick and tight and you moan every time they hit a spot you never thought would make you writhe out of bliss. and he’s aroused by the sweet, obscene and sticky

sound of his wrapped fingers moving around you. sliding them at a fast pace that they can easily go in and out.

out of embarrassment, you place your hand in your mouth because the idea of someone hearing you whine out of pleasure is so humiliating, and how things stirred up to reach this moment don’t help you at all.

“i want to hear you, please, don’t hold back.” he mutters, managing to take your hand from your mouth.

it is a way to remind him all of this is real. that there’s no maria, mary, angela, eddie, like everything came to an end and his digits are touching real human skin. not illusions, hallucinations or any other manifestation.

he’s just blinded by desire and carelessly and breathing heavily, he pulls down his pants to let off finally his aching and erected cock and completely drowned in yearning and despair, he grabs fiercely the errands of your hair and shoves his shaft inside of your mouth, not giving you enough time to catch a breath and you cough, gagging around it. desperately choking and trying to find a way to filter air and continue to please him, your nostrils let in a drag of oxygen and you realize he didn’t notice you were choking, as he ponders with irregular movements your throat.

he looks at your teary eyes and he can’t help but groan like the animal he has turned — you had turned him into. always wearing those damn short clothes and strolling your hips to catch his attention… now he releases his frustration, and he thinks for himself this what you wanted from the beginning. he has to admit it worked out perfectly.

“damn… you’re taking it so well.” he gulps and adds: “this what you wanted to commit a while ago, isn’t it?” he’s genuinely surprised at the abilities he thought you had and the grip he has on your hair tightens up and his movements are faster. your jaw started loosening, to let him explore further and you can’t help but gag and hum as an affirmation.

you would take his girth out time to time to catch air, to then put it back in your mouth again. your gaze was pierced in his eyes, who now seem to have lost any trace of decency, slurping and leaving his cock full of saliva. your hands were massaging his balls and your throat managed somehow to open up and finding a way to breath properly.

you cough when he decided it was finally the perfect moment to entomb his cock inside you. he was like a drug addict in withdrawal. he no longer cares if it was all wrong, now he just wants every bit of you.... maybe start over again.

he gets up and lays you down on the couch, bitting and leaving hickeys all over your collarbone.

he pulls up a part of your blouse, only to discover you are not wearing a bra and when he sees your naked breast, he licks it and the he puts it inside his mouth, savouring it and grabbing the other one. he cup his head between your tits and he’s thankful, again, of feeling a heart beating — a real one. the scene shakes you a little and you want to stroke his hair and hold him like that for a while, but men have need and james is not an exception to that rule.

having reminded you are a real human being, he takes your panties, sprawls your legs and places your knees in your chest. he even sucks the crook of your neck and licks it, the touch of his tip makes you wonder how will be like when he rips you apart and—

your eyes open big, it’s tearing you apart. the turmoil of thoughts vanishes as he’s making his way to go deeper all over your cunt. he enjoys your blushed, aroused face, as he’s pinning and has a clear view of your pussy. the worst part is that you know it’s just the beginning and you know that all that’s left is for him is to move in circles around you.

he knew he had to be more considerate, asking if it didn’t hurt you, if you were feeling alright, but his common sense is all numbed by your walls sucking all of his cock. in a twisted way, he finds relief, jolt and excitement and that makes him move erratically.

“be a nice girl, and stay still.” he even pushes your legs further, the dirty noises his hips clapping your pussy made you wonder if this is the man who looked so desperately for her wife just a while ago.

and your walls loosen all over his broad shaft, as pain turn into a turmoil of bliss and satisfaction. at first it hurt, pondering why, when you a lot of girls in those porn films seemed to enjoy it, it just didn’t feel the same. however, the more he was burying his cock, the more it felt good.

his tip is tracing, rimming inside of your sensitive spot. a mewl whined out of your mouth and your insides are stirring up, wanting him to rub it deeply into you.

“i want to see you... full, carrying a part of me. something good in all this darkness. maybe it’s wrong, maybe i’m selfish, but i want you to have something of mine. something that proves you’re mine.” he leave a trail of kisses all over your you can’t help but let out a whine at such affirmations, even your pussy tensed, making him growl at the fleeting moment.

he wanted to have children, but misfortune came and he could never consummate that longing, but now that he seems to have already atoned for all his sins (or so he thinks), to have you in that position — so flushed biting your index finger, and unable to bear the pain and pleasure of having him inside you, breathing so erratically. maybe this was a new opportunity for him: with a young, healthy, radiant girl. he wondered if you would make a good mother for his children.

with that longing, thick, pearly-like loads of his seeds sprout all over your cunt. the liquid dripping inside of you is warm and you can feel his length pulsating, as he slows his pace. when he lets out the shaft, he contemplates for a while the white liquid oozing from you, realizing that he might bring new life into this world.

you lay there for a long while. he thinks of all the possibilities. all of his head is a mess right now. of course, a pound in his heart presents just at the merely idea of having already made love with another woman, even though he knew mary would’ve liked to see him happy.

and with that in mind, he can’t help but remembering little laura.

“can you hold on in here? i just need to give this to someone.” he shows a yellowish envelope but without any wrinkles. trying to hide the pain it evoked you seeing he had other pending matters and that you have been just a distraction, you just let out a sigh and deliver: “you have any other woman or what?”

“n-no, i…” he stammers nervously. the words choking in his throat as he looks at you, caught somewhere between guilt and desperation.“it’s just, this little girl. mary met her at the hospital and.”

“oh, i…” you blushed and felt bad for doubting of his good intentions.“surely, i’ll wait here.”

probably taking care of that girl laura might release some guilt about mary and feel like home and you can’t deny you’re excited to meet her.

when awkward misunderstandings and unconfortable presentations ends, driving away from silent hill, james makes sure laura has completely fallen asleep and places a hand in your womb.

#james sunderland #james sunderland smut #james sunderland x reader #silent hill 2 #sh2 #sh2 remake #silent hill 2 fanfiction #silent hill 2 remake

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palskippah · 2 months ago

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Hi! Drew this based over a scene in Santa Clarita Diet bc Abby's relationship with her parents is so funny but also it's clear that she loves them aaa

Anyways, every once in a while Cyrus realizes that his other dad is actually cooler than he gives him credit for sjdfksj

Under the cut are some more thoughts!

-Btw I hope you get the 'of course' wink sjdkfjs

>My mom always does it whenever I ask a question that could only use a 'yes' as an answer, instead of nodding or talking and I think it's cool sjkdf (I don't use it bc I'm very uncoordinated, imagine I accidentally double wink or do the frog blink 😭)

-Cyrus is often so mean to him that whenever he's genuinely nice, sometimes Ambrosius' suspicious and wondering if he's being sarcastic or mocking him, even if Cyrus tries to tell him that it's nothing of that and he means it

>Like that scene in Santa Clarita Diet where Abby compliments her parents and they stare for a few seconds all seriously and then one says, don't listen to her honey, we did great (and it reminded me so much of that one scene in the comic with Ballister and Ambrosius sjdkfjs)

>This one:

>I really wanna redraw it like the scene in the show. Ballister going good job and Ambrosius just staring very calculating, and then going, don't listen to him, men, we DID get him >:(

-Also drew this because ever since Cyrus has been born Ambrosius couldn't help but feel that his son just knew that he wasn't a good person, the way he was always frowning at him (that's just his face, like Ballister's) and when he grows up, he seems to not like him much either pipipi

>Anyways one day (being a moody teenager) Cyrus says the typical I hate you, dad!!! D:< and locks himself in his room and Ambrosius' like, D':

>He's always mean too but that's just his teenager personality, sarcastic and stuff and Ballister doesn't take it personal because he knows his son is just like that (hopefully for the meanwhile, until he grows out of it), Ambrosius knows too but he's more sensitive and can't help taking it a bit personal 😔

-Also I got another idea for a small comic based over a kdrama I watched, where the daughter (the oldest of the two siblings) blamed herself over her dad leaving their family, and hated him for leaving too and many things, just very complicated.

>And aaa imagine Cyrus just never saying it but knowing that both of his dads' lives would've been different if he hadn't been born. Like maybe all of Ballister's plans to overthrow the Institute and stuff took longer, and some phases in his plan had to be put in hold because of him and stuff.

>Also for a while he feels like Ballister is bound to Ambrosius for life because of him (little did he know that those two would've been around each other their whole lives anyways, even if he never existed sjdkfs) then he realizes that they actually like and love each other, and then they try having something, or smth, and then he's like oh :) because seeing both of your parents loving each other and getting along is a very nice feeling (I've been told, idk from first-hand experience🧍 cries)

>Actually, I drew this unfinished thing about that, based over another scene in the kdrama I mentioned, where the daughter says, after being told that if her parents hadn't met, she wouldn't have been born, that it'd would've been for the better.

>I know the writing is terrible but Cyrus' complaining about Ambrosius and ending his rant with 'I wish they just hadn't met at all', and Nimona saying that she used to feel the same, but then realized that Cyrus wouldn't have been born, and Cyrus was supposed to say next, 'maybe that would've been better' and then Nimona doesn't answer and just stares at him wwhwh

-AND of course it's not Cyrus' fault that Ballister decided to have him, but he still has the feeling of having messed up his dad's life, and let's say that Ballister realizes for whatever reasons his feelings, connecting dots and stuff.

>So, imagine a conversation where he's saying very reassuringly, Meeting your father and later having you is one of the best things that had happened to me, or something like that. And Cyrus is resolutely not looking at him, but his eyes are getting teary, even if he feigns not acknowledging Ballister's words because how embarrassing, and how vulnerable he feels, but also he feels so relieved and loved too.

>And he doesn't know what to do with the feelings, also being a teenager with no feelings is his thing, y'know, so he's like, Just so you know, I'm not crying over what you said, I don't care about that, something just got in my eye- and Ballister just smiles because his son is terrible at communicating his feelings, but it's okay and he gets it, and just says, of course, let me get it out for you, and then he wipes Cyrus' tears and Cyrus gets a tad bit more teary but it's fine because his dad doesn't mind wiping some more tears wiwiiw

>(projecting so much into him bc when I watched that one scene in the show I cried bc I've felt the way the protagonist did (now I know better tho, I'm the coolest thing to happen to my mom yippiee) and it's a very ugly feeling, so of course I'm giving it to a character whwehw)

Anyways, that's it! I love them so much, I hope to make some more comics about the thingies I said above sjkdfd

#nimona #ambrosius goldenloin #goldenheart fankid #fankid #my art #I really should give Cyrus a tag but weh #Comic Cyrus you're so special to me #not coloring the walking cane was a conscious decision. trust. (I forgor about it)#fr I'm grabbing all my 'my mom could've had a better life if I hadn't started existing' and doubling it to the next person (Comic Cyrus)#this is what having oc's is about #I've got zero christmas art sowwy pipipi even tho I love christmas I couldn't find the time nor motivation to draw anything sjdfk #first time drawing Ambrosius with the aftermath of the fight with Nimona #I think I need to color differently his scars so they're more visible #considering that the claws dug in deeply wa I'll keep it in mind for next time

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haveihitanerve · 3 months ago

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Read a fic then suddenly thought-

Do Bruce's kids know he was engaged to Selina and that she stood him up? If not, I'm curious what their reaction would be to the info

WAIT HE WAS ENGAGED TO SELINA AND SHE STOOD HIM UP?!?!?!?

lemme look smth up- OH MY GODS... ok- ok-... ok i think i got this... im gonna cry:

It happened on a Saturday. Because of course it did. The one day where she had no obligations, no excuse to run and flee, and the day that she and Dick met every week to catch up.

"You really drink this stuff?" Dick wrinkled his nose at the smoothie in front of him, pushing it away. Selina laughed, pulling bowls from her cabinet.

"You're really insulting my drinking choices when you live with Bruce Wayne and Tim Drake?" She countered, raising an eyebrow as she ladled soup into their bowls. Dick snorted, accepting his bowl with a nod of thanks.

"Fair, i guess. But I can hate on all of your drink choices. I'm equal in my distribution of judgement." Selina chuckled, blowing gently on her spoon before taking a gentle sip.

"I appreciate it." Dick's shoulders shook with silent laughter as he lifted his spoon in acknowledgement, taking a sip as well.

"Of course. Ah- shoot!" Selina raised an eyebrow as the first Robin cursed, hissing in pain as the hot soup splattered onto his shirt. He sighed in frustration, grabbing a napkin.

Selina swatted his hand away, rolling her eyes. "Go- there are towels in my side table, go to the bathroom." Dick nodded his grim agreement, standing from the table and heading into her bedroom for the towels. Selina shook her head, returning to her meal and finishing it up before standing to clean up.

"Uh?? Lina?" Dick's voice echoed from the bedroom.

"Yeah?" Selina called back, cleaning out her bowl in the sink. Dick walked into the kitchen, a frown on his face.

"What's this?" Selina turned, wiping her hands on a dish towel, and froze.

"Wher- where'd you get that?" She asked quietly, hands grabbing the counter behind her to keep her upright. Dick raised an eyebrow.

"It was in your drawer. Sorry, I didn't mean to pry, but I couldn't find the towels." Selina shook her head.

"Right. Yes. Of course." She turned away, back towards the dishes.

"Tabby?" Dick asked, taking a step closer, the stupid box in his hand. "What is it? You don't usually keep your steals in your drawers, and this is something expensive." Selina breathed slowly, bracing herself.

"No," She agreed finally. "I don't keep steals in my drawers. And yes, it is expensive. I would hope it would be," She smiled softly, turning to face him at last. "Because your father bought it for me."

Dick's eyes grew wide as he looked at the box. "B bought this for you?" Selina tilted her head in a nod. Dick's eyes narrowed. "But... its a ring-" He froze, eyes darting to her. "You're not married." It was a statement. Selina's head jerked in a no. "Then what-"

"We were supposed to be. Going to be." Selina cut him off before his detective skills could go haywire and she'd lose him. "He uh, he asked me. And I said yes. And we were going to be." She leaned against the cabinets, avoiding Dick's blue eyes. The same eyes as his father, though adopted. "But um.." Her finger traced circles on the counter, eyes distant. "We weren't... as alone, as we would have liked. And... someone.. close to me.. She talked me out of it. And I-" Her voice caught but she forced herself to look at him, to say it. "I left him there. Alone."

Dick's silence was damming. "You left him at the altar?" Every word was precise, hard, cold. Selina forced herself to nod.

"Well, technically we didn't have an altar- it was a roof-"

"You left my father, alone, at the altar-" He threw his hands up in frustration. "Chimney- whatever! And- and and, kept his ring???" Selina swallowed.

"He told me to keep it. A reminder. Maybe a promise. Dickie-" She reached for him, begging him to understand.

"No. No." He shook his head, backing away from her. "No no no.. I- I need to think. Alone. And- and maybe talk to Bruce-"

"Please don't." She grabbed his sleeve, holding on despite the vicious look he sent her. "Please. Your father... I don't want him to have to... to be reminded. Please. You can yell at me all you want- but- but leave him out of it. It's my fault." Dick's eyes melted slightly, but he still moved out of reach again, his sleeve slipping through her fingers.

"I know its not his fault." Dick's laugh was entirely devoid of humor. "For once, its not his fault. No, that lies solely on you." His eyes were so hard and cold and blue it hurt.

"Kitten- Dick I'm sorry," Selina begged, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. "If I could I'd go back in time and erase it all from ever going wrong... but I can't. We agreed... we agreed to give each other a break, some time, and I'll give him that," She looked at him, anguished. "I'll give him whatever he wants I will, I swear. But... but I'm no longer a part of that."

Dick stared at her as though she had grown two heads, and maybe she had because he set down the ring box, and took a seat. "Selina, we're going to sit here, and you're going to explain exactly what happened, and after that you're going to explain exactly how it is that you believe he doesn't want you anymore, because I can guarantee-" He laughed, and this time there was something there. "That he still does."

Selina slid into the seat opposite him, hands unconsciously seeking out the box, and the ring inside. She opened it slowly, and Dick watched as she pulled out the ring, twirling the gorgeous thing across her fingers. She slipped it onto her middle finger, and Dick, mercifully, didn't comment, just watched her expectantly. Selina took a deep breath, and began talking.

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