#you also decorate his horns with other decorations | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

atlabeth · 11 months ago

Text

geyser

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary:��percy learns about the first girl luke castellan ever loved.

a/n: this is a lil sad. sorry about that. but i really like it and it came out of nowhere in like 2 days so i hope you enjoy despite the sadness. title from the mitski song

wc: 6.5k

warning(s): major character death; not shown but hangs over the whole fic. angst made angstier by fluffy flashbacks. mostly told through percy’s pov but includes luke, annabeth, and reader povs

also if you saw this before on another account DONT WORRY... that account was also me. im just doing some stuff behind the scenes right now as i figure stuff out lol i promise no plagiarism is going on

Percy thought that his head might explode.

He didn’t know how he was still walking, honestly. His mom died, he killed a— no, the— Minotaur, all the Greek myths were real and his dad was one of them, and now he had to deal with that freak accident with Clarisse and the toilets.

At least he would be ready next time she tried to beat him up. Percy had been the new kid enough to know there would be a next time.

All he could do was stare at the Minotaur horn in his hands, the only sign that what happened outside the border was real. The horn in his hands and the hole in his heart.

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d been thrown into the deep end, and the only thing on his mind was when he would start to drown.

“Hey.” Percy looked up to see the counselor he’d met earlier with Annabeth—Luke. He tossed a ziploc bag at him and he caught it, taking a moment to look at what was in it.

“I stole you some toiletries from the camp store,” he explained. “Thought it might make you feel more at home.”

“…Thanks.” He didn’t know if Luke was joking, but the damage had already been done. And it was the nicest thing someone had done for him so far. He set it down next to his Minotaur shoebox. “Is this the best that it gets?”

Luke’s lips quirked up in a slight smile. “For now. We’re a little crowded, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Just a little bit.” Percy stood up from his sleeping bag and worked out the knot in his shoulder. “Where’s your bed? Assuming you have one.”

“I couldn’t wrangle all these cats without some back support,” he said, and he pointed to a bed in the corner. It was the only one on its own without a bunk, and he had a fair amount of decorations. Counselor privileges, he figured. Percy walked over, Luke trailing behind him.

“Nice place,” he said. Percy picked up the Yankee’s cap on his bedside table and nodded as he looked back at him. “Nice taste.”

“It’s for Annabeth,” Luke said. “She wanted us to match.”

Percy nodded again in approval. “Good taste for both of you.”

Luke had various other things around — an alarm clock knocked over next to the baseball cap, a huskie sticker on the wall half-scraped off, a poster for an album he didn’t recognize.

But the thing that caught his eye was a polaroid hanging on the wall, surrounded by a smattering of others varying in size.

The first one had to be an old picture—Luke didn’t have his scar, and the biggest smile stretched across his face. He had a girl close with an arm slung around her waist, and she might’ve been smiling even more than Luke. A bright energy emanated around her, something that must have transferred through the picture, because Percy found himself feeling a little better just looking at her. He wondered if she was a camper.

His eyes flicked to the next picture, which was another one of Luke and that girl. They were both laughing as she tried to put a blue hat on Luke’s head, and he protested with a hand on her wrist. They were in the forefront of a baseball game, Percy noticed.

There were other pictures, too—Luke, a girl dressed all punk, and what looked like a young version of Annabeth, most notably—but a majority of them were either Luke and that girl, or the girl all on her own. In every single one, she beamed brighter than the sun.

Percy pointed at the picture of Luke and the girl at the baseball game, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Who’s that?”

That seemed to catch Luke off-guard, his lips parting for a moment as if he wanted to say something. It barely took him any time to get back on track, but Percy found himself frowning.

“That’s…” Luke cleared his throat, wet his lips, shook his head. “A friend. A very good friend.”

“Does she go here?” Percy asked.

“She did.”

He frowned. “Where is she, then?”

“Percy—” Luke’s voice was strained, but he didn’t really notice as he went on.

“I didn’t see her around,” he continued, “and you look pretty close.”

Luke blinked a couple times, and Percy swore he could see the telltale glimmer of tears starting in his eyes. A muscle worked in his jaw, and suddenly Percy was worried that he’d said something horribly wrong. He had a talent for that, it seemed.

Fortunately, he was saved by the bell—conch shell?—and something like relief flooded through Luke’s expression. Tension still coiled in his body.

“Come on,” he said, that camp counselor smile coming back as he put his hand on Percy’s shoulder and guided him away from the enclave. “That means dinner’s about to start.”

Percy’s frown deepened as curiosity won out again. “Was she your—”

“You don’t wanna be late,” Luke continued, ignoring his attempt. “I assume you’re pretty hungry after two days spent out?”

Well, that only made him want to push harder. But Percy figured he wouldn’t get anything out of him—especially not now.

“…Yeah,” Percy said. “Starving.”

An odd look flickered across his face, but again, it only lasted for a second before he was back to normal. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Eleven! Fall in!”

Percy was at the back of the line by virtue of him being the new kid, and he found himself looking back at that picture of Luke and the girl. He didn’t know why, but something drew him to her. Before Percy could think about it more, the line was moving and his growling stomach drew his attention away.

He would have plenty of time to ask Luke about it later.

Or rather, ask him and piss off the only person who’d tried to be his friend so far.

…Gods.

Maybe he was going to drown sooner than he thought.

“Luke—”

“No!”

“Luke, please!”

“Annabeth will kill me if she knows—”

“She won’t know!”

“Alright, alright— stay still, you two!”

Your mother laughed from behind the camera as you and Luke fought with each other, you trying your damnedest to get your Red Sox cap on his head as he tried his damnedest to stop you. The frantic laughter on both sides made it a little difficult for either of you to succeed in your quest, but eventually, you got the rock up the hill and the hat on his head.

“Take the picture, Mom!” you exclaimed, pulling Luke even closer by his arms so he couldn’t get it off. “I need the proof!”

“I knew this was a bad idea,” Luke groaned, staring at the camera as you wrapped your arm around his side and leaned into him. He could already imagine your victorious smile, brighter than the sun beating down on them in the stadium, and just the thought of it made one of his own flit across his lips.

“Oh, shut up, Castellan,” you said. “You chose to come to this game. Everyone’s gonna know you’re a Red Sox fan now.”

“You said you wouldn’t tell her!” Luke defended, wrenching his arms free of your control to take the hat off his head. “I don’t even care about baseball!”

“You care so much about it,” you said cloyingly, “and you’re ride or die for the Boston Red Sox.”

“If you say a single word—”

“Okay, kids!” Your mother pointed at the seats next to her. “The game’s about to start—you can keep arguing, but only if you sit down so I can see.”

“Sorry, Mom.” You grinned at her as you pulled Luke over to your seats—they were a step up from nosebleeds, but they were the ones closest to the balcony so you could at least peer over the railing down to the diamond.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” She glanced at Luke with a smile, and he could really see where you got it from. “We’ve gotta make him a fan somehow.”

“I guess I can live with the brand.” Luke set the cap back on your head once you were seated, purposefully pulling the brim a little over your eyes, and he smiled at you. “Even though it looks better on you, anyways.”

“You just don’t have what it takes to be a Red Sox fan in the heart of Yank territory,” you mused, pushing the hat back up so you could see. “It’s fine.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but he could hardly bite back his smile.

“I am glad you came, though,” you said, glancing back at him. “I’m glad you came with me in the first place. This is gonna be the best semester.”

“Thanks for having me,” Luke said. “It’s… it’s been a while since I’ve left camp.”

“Fingers crossed for no monster attacks, eh?” You held up your hand. “At least, not during the game. I could live with it happening any other time.”

“Don’t speak it into existence,” your mom said. “We’re going to have a monster-free school year.”

To humor her, you made a claw over your heart and pushed out. She hummed in satisfaction, and you looked over at Luke. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Because two kids like us aren’t gonna draw any attention.”

“Oh, I know we will,” you said. “But I know it’ll be fine.”

Luke frowned. “How can you be so sure?”

You shrugged with a smile. “I’ve got you.”

And in that moment, he was thankful for the freakish heat that honestly made no sense in the spring—at least it covered up any sign of what your words did to him.

Luke thought you were joking when you asked him if he wanted to come back home with you for the school year. He didn’t know why you wanted to go back in the first place, being a Big Three kid that apparently had a death wish, but the thought of him leaving camp was almost inconceivable.

Even after you assured him you weren’t joking, he still wasn’t sure. He was on the run with you for three years, then…

Well, he couldn’t think about it for too long. But Luke had been on the outskirts of regular society for so long, doing nothing but fighting for his life, that he didn’t know if he could actually function at a normal school.

But it felt right for you two to get some normal time together after you were separated for so long. It took him a semester to decide, but one day during your usual Iris message conversations, he told you he’d love to spend the rest of the year in Boston with you. Luke still remembered the grin you wore, your disbelieving but victorious cheers, the apology you yelled back at your mother for your noise.

Luke watched you as you talked with your mom, discussing Boston’s chances and player statistics and baseball jargon he didn’t think he’d ever understand, and he knew he would sit through a thousand Red Sox games if it meant he would get to keep seeing your smile.

You must have felt his eyes on you, because you glanced over at him. “Are you okay?”

Luke smiled. Gods, he was so glad you were here.

“Never better.”

“That one nearly got me,” Luke said.

Percy huffed as he picked up his sword from the ground—he was pretty sure he would officially lose his mind if Luke disarmed him with that stupid move one more time. One benefit to the Hermes cabin being too scared to associate with him after getting claimed was that he wasn’t making a fool out of himself in front of other people.

“Maybe I can only beat you when I pour water on myself,” he said.

Luke chuckled as he took a bottle from the cooler on the side and held it up. “Wanna try?”

He shook his head. “I think my arms will fall off if I keep going with you.”

He tipped his shoulder. “Fair.”

Percy stared at the ground as Luke gathered himself, trying to put the free range thoughts roaming around his head in order. It didn’t help that he’d gained a million questions after Poseidon claimed him, and it didn’t help that there’s been a newest addition to his dream last night.

He still felt strange asking Luke about it, but he had to know more about her. Percy didn’t know why it felt like his mission to find out who this mysterious girl was, or why he felt that strange connection to her. Maybe it was the way Luke acted whenever he brought her up, maybe it was that she’d popped up in his dream next to him at the very end, maybe it was just plain old curiosity.

“I’m not supposed to be alive,” Percy said, breaking the silence. “I could die at any time in a bunch of different horrible ways. So will you tell me more about that girl on your wall?”

Again, Luke seemed to be caught off guard by it. Percy heard the crunch of plastic as his hand clenched ever so slightly around the bottle, and he tried to cover it up with an arched eyebrow. “Why do you want to know so badly?”

He shrugged. What was he supposed to say?

“I’m curious,” he decided.

Luke huffed a dry laugh before he took a sip of water, and he stared off into the distance for a while. He did a lot of staring whenever this girl was brought up. They looked like they were best friends in those pictures, but maybe whatever they had ended badly. And if she was a demigod too…

Well, it would make sense why he didn’t want to talk about her.

“You know that phrase about curiosity?” Luke asked.

“And how it killed the cat?”

He nodded, drinking some more. “It goes double for demigods.”

“Everything else wants to kill me,” Percy said. “So curiosity’s gonna have to get in line.”

Luke’s laugh was a little more genuine this time, and he shook his head. “I guess I can tell you a little about her. You actually probably have a right to know.”

“Is she a half-blood?” Percy asked immediately.

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“Who’s her parent?”

Luke capped his water bottle and looked at Percy for a good, long moment. His face glowed in the warm afternoon sun, his scar cast in a softer light than usual. The scar used to unnerve him, but he’d gotten used to it after weeks staring at it during sword fighting.

“She was a child of Poseidon, Percy,” he said. “Just like you.”

Percy felt short of breath, like Luke had just knocked his sword out of his hand and shoved him to the ground. But he stood on his own two legs that somehow still worked, and Luke hadn’t moved.

He had a sister?

“I have a sister?”

“…Had,” Luke corrected. “She… she died a few years back.”

A vice latched onto Percy’s heart. He was still having a hard time breathing. No wonder Luke always used past tense when he was talking about her.

He had a sister, he wasn’t alone, but he was because she was dead. And if Luke was one of her friends, that meant she died young.

Gods.

“What about their oath?” Percy asked, trying to ignore the aching in his chest. “I’m already on thin ice for my whole existing thing. How did Poseidon get away with two kids so close to each other?”

Luke shrugged. “I’ve never known why gods do things. Her mother was a great woman, though—I could see what drew Poseidon to her against the oath.”

One half of Percy wanted to ask every question that kept popping into his head. The other side of him wanted to break down and cry.

“How did you meet her?”

“We ran into each other when we were both young,” he said. “Both child runaways, both demigods, both New Englanders—we decided to rough it out on the road together. Couldn’t be any worse than doing it on our own.”

Percy tried to imagine it. A young Luke and a younger version of that girl—maybe Percy’s age—living together in the wilderness and fighting monsters. Surviving off of nothing but their wit and skill, facing death each day before they’d even reached middle school.

“It… it didn’t happen then, did it?” he asked hesitantly.

Luke shook his head. “Couple years later. All we did was watch each other’s backs out there.”

Percy couldn’t help himself. “What happened to her?”

“The same thing that happens to everyone,” Luke said flatly. “There’s a reason I’m the oldest one here.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Percy insisted. “It— it makes it worse, Luke. You see that, right?”

Luke stared at his empty water bottle then tossed it back into the cooler. When his gaze met Percy’s, he was shocked by how… tired he looked. Beyond exhausted—bone-weary. Percy wanted to say more, but he didn’t get the chance.

“This isn’t good conversation,” Luke said, “and it’s getting late. You should hit the showers before dinner.”

The sun still beat down on them, bright and angry in the sky, but Percy provided no argument. He had a lot to think about.

Before they went their separate ways, Percy stopped and looked back at him. “I’m sorry she’s gone, Luke.”

Luke’s gaze went unfocused for a moment, his eyes growing glossy. “So am I.”

Percy sat on the floor of the Hermes cabin in the corner that used to be his, staring at his meager belongings. He had to decide what to take on his quest, which was made easier by the fact that he hardly had anything to his name. Things could always be worse, though. At least he would have a change of clothes.

He should’ve been doing this in his own cabin, but it felt too empty, too suffocating in its silence. Eleven was still more familiar. He heard the door open and saw Luke walk in, and his eyes lit up when he saw Percy.

“Hey,” he said. “I wanted to see you before you left. How’re you feeling pre-quest?”

“Like the world’s about to end,” he said.

Luke’s lips twitched into a smile as he sat on the bed across from Percy. “Understandable. It kinda is.”

“It’s just overwhelming.” Percy shoved the unfolded clothes into his backpack. “I have to clear mine and my dad’s names and get Zeus’s bolt back, or else war will start. No pressure at all.”

“You were chosen for a reason,” Luke said. “You may not see it, Percy, but you’ve improved a lot since you got here. If anyone can do this, I think it’s you.”

Percy looked up at him, and he was reminded of the way their last conversation went. He was asking before he could really stop himself.

“I could die on this quest and never see you again,” Percy said. “So could you tell me more about my sister before I go?”

Luke smiled wistfully and sighed. “You really won’t let this go, will you?”

“It’s not really something you just let go,” he said. “Besides, I… I saw her in my dream last night.”

Luke’s smile faded. “You did?”

Percy nodded. “For a split second, but I know it was her. I felt the same way I did whenever I looked at her pictures. And… it’s the second time she’s shown up.”

He let out a long sigh and shook his head, his gaze trailing off to the wall. He always looked so much older when he talked about this girl, like he was a war veteran reminiscing on his lost love. And from what he’d gathered, it might not have been too far off.

“I told you we ran together when we were young,” he said, and Percy nodded. “We were both nine, and it should’ve been terrible, but she had a way of making everything better. Always found the bright side of things, was always able to make me laugh.”

“She was from Massachusetts—right in the middle of Boston.” Luke chuckled as he looked at Percy. “Huge Red Sox fan.”

Percy grimaced. “We all make mistakes.”

Luke smiled, though it faded a bit. “We got separated for a while, but we found each other again when I got to camp. Things were more peaceful than they are now, so she’d been claimed at camp pretty quickly. I figure Poseidon wanted her to have the protection of him openly standing behind her after what happened.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, ‘what happened’?”

Luke shook his head. “That would be an awful story to send you off on.”

Percy wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Luke was probably right—Percy didn’t want to make him relive it and then have to go on a death quest right after.

“A happier part, then,” he suggested.

“She ran away from home as a kid to protect her mom, but now that she had an idea of what she was doing, she started going back to school. She invited me to stay with her during the school year one year, and I accepted. That—” Luke’s throat bobbed, and the other hand clenched into a fist— “that was when she died.”

In his stunned silence, Luke got up and went over to his alcove. He pulled the drawer open on his bedside table and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. It must’ve been folded and crumpled a million other times in messier ways by all the creases he could see, but when Luke opened it, he could see handwriting all over the front.

A letter.

“We Iris messaged each other constantly while she was at school,” he said, “and we wrote back and forth when we couldn’t. This was the last letter she sent me.”

Percy’s first instinct was to say he wouldn’t be able to read it, but he realized that he didn’t really care. These were words that his sister wrote—he would sit here the rest of the day forcing sentences to make sense if that was what it took.

So he took the letter when Luke offered it.

To the one and only Luke Castellan,

My mom said yes! After a very long interrogation (she now knows basically everything about you) and a million promises that you would be as careful as possible and that you were good enough at sword fighting to take down anything that could come after us, she said you can spend the year here. We spent a couple hours every day making my mom’s study into a guest room, so you have a place to stay.

I’m an idiot that didn’t bring enough drachmas so that’s why I have to send this letter—hopefully it gets to you soon enough, because we’re gonna come get you a week before my winter break is over. Mom is letting me drive down because she says I have to get my permit soon. It makes sense that my first big test is getting to you. If we don’t make it, it’s because we died in a fiery crash.

Just kidding. I’m a great driver. But tell me some of your favorite songs when you reply and I’ll burn a CD for the ride—I figured out how to use LimeWire. Oh, and throw in a couple drachmas with the envelope so I can Iris message you next time. I miss your face and your voice, and my hand is cramping up writing all of this.

But this is so exciting! I can’t wait to introduce you to all my friends at school, and show you my favorite places in the city, and make you into a Red Sox fan. And you can come to my soccer games— I’m the greatest forward there is.

Jokes aside, I’m going to make sure you have the best time. We’ll spend every second together, Luke. We’re gonna make up for the time we lost.

I can’t wait to see you again.

Your hurricane.

It took Percy a long time to get through it with the words swimming all over, and it didn’t help that his vision had grown blurry.

Tears, he realized as he blinked, and he did it again to make sure they wouldn’t fall. He couldn’t cry in front of Luke, not over a girl he didn’t even know—even if she was his sister. But maybe he was grieving that—the fact that he would never get to know her.

“God, man. I— I’m sorry.” Percy couldn’t think of anything else to say. “She sounds like she was great.”

Luke couldn’t even manage a smile this time as he stared at the wall. Percy was surprised he could even talk to him about it.

“She was,” he murmured. “You would’ve liked her. And gods,” this time, a bit of a smile broke through despite it all, “she would have loved a little brother.”

“I’m gonna make her proud on this quest,” Percy vowed. “I’m gonna clear our dad’s name for her.”

Something in Luke’s gaze had changed—sadness, almost regret. “You’re a good kid, Percy. I hope your quest doesn’t change that.”

I hope I come back alive, he wanted to say. But given the topic matter, he didn’t. Percy carefully folded the letter back up and handed it to Luke.

“Thank you for telling me about her, man,” Percy said. “I… I know it can’t be easy.”

Luke let out a shuddering breath as he stared at the closed letter—Percy wondered how many times he must have sat in this same position, reading her words. “No better way to honor her memory than helping her brother.” He glanced at Percy. “I see a lot of her in you.”

He’d been wondering if he had anything in common with her. Percy felt a sudden flare of anger shoot through him—it wasn’t fair that she was dead. Poseidon was a god, and she was a teenager. He should have saved her.

Percy’s mouth was drier than a desert. A part of him wanted to curl up in a ball and sob over the sister he never got the chance to know, but the other part of him knew—from what little Luke had told him about her—that she wouldn’t want him to.

“I should get going,” Percy said, standing up from the floor. “We have to leave for the quest soon, and Annabeth and Grover are probably wondering where I am, and…”

Percy trailed off, and Luke nodded in understanding. He turned around and took one of the photos off the wall—one of you alone in the middle of a park, wearing a bucket hat and absolutely beaming.

“You deserve to have a part of her with you,” he said. “For good luck.”

He felt himself choking up, and he pushed it down as he accepted the photo. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“Good luck, Percy,” Luke said. “You’ve got a lot of people rooting for you.”

Percy found himself studying the picture of you once he made it outside, trying to memorize your face. With your wide, infectious smile that emanated pure sunlight, he could have mistaken you for an Apollo kid. But when he looked at you, he got that same warmth that he felt every time he imagined his father.

“I won’t let you down,” he murmured. “I promise.”

After sleeping in his train seat for half the day, Percy vowed to never complain about his bed in Cabin Three again. He was gonna be going down to the Underworld with permanent cricks in his neck.

Grover was still sound asleep—Percy envied him for how easily it came to him in the worst conditions—but thankfully, Annabeth wasn’t. Her gaze was focused on the view as their train chugged along.

Percy cleared his throat in a flawless attempt at getting her attention, and it worked.

“You’re awake,” she said.

“Unfortunately.” Percy sighed. “How much longer do you think it’ll be?”

“Another day, at least,” she said. “And we’ve got a layover in St. Louis.”

“St. Louis,” he hummed. “Nice.”

They sat in silence for a while—there wasn’t much to talk about when they were coming off of two— or was it three, now?—near-death experiences. But eventually, Annabeth cleared her throat, taking a page from his book, and it worked again.

“There— there’s probably something you should know,” Annabeth said, and that worked even better than clearing her throat. “You’re not the only Big Three kid to come through Camp Half-blood lately.”

“I know,” he said. “Grover and Luke explained it.”

Her eyes widened slightly and she leaned forward in her seat. “Luke did?”

“…Yeah. You all already told me about Thalia.” Percy glanced away, suddenly feeling a chill in the train car. “Luke told me about my sister.”

Annabeth went silent.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I kind of annoyed Luke until he told me. Doesn’t really seem like a subject people at camp like to talk about.”

“I’m just surprised he did,” she murmured. “They were… they were close, Percy. Her death destroyed him—Thalia and your sister. All of it’s complicated.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “I got some of that.”

“I only knew her for a year at camp, but everyone loved her,” she said. “She was nice. Popular. Always helped when she could, always had the biggest, most infectious smile on her face.” Annabeth looked down at her hands. “She didn’t deserve the fate she got.”

Percy didn’t think he’d ever grieved so much for someone he never knew. “But her and Luke—were they…?”

“Yeah,” Annabeth said, “they were a thing, later on.”

That seemed to be all she wanted to say on the matter. Percy decided not to push.

“How did you meet her?” he asked.

Annabeth’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I met her on the day I thought I would die.”

For the first time in her life, Annabeth Chase couldn’t think.

It had all happened so fast. One second she was running with Luke and Thalia and Grover, praying to her mother and any other gods that would listen to make the horde of monsters let up even a centimeter.

The next, she’d collapsed on the ground, never so grateful to have grass and dirt and dust in her face. But she could hear Luke yelling, barely able to make it out in her delirious state—she didn’t know when she’d last had a sip of water, and they’d been running for at least three miles—but he sounded hysterical.

She remembered her last clear thought: they weren’t going to make it.

But they had. They had, so why was Luke losing his mind?

Annabeth pulled herself up from the ground—how long had she been bleeding out of those slashes on her arm?—and looked for the rest of her friends. Luke wasn’t yelling anymore, instead arguing with someone she didn’t recognize in a bright orange shirt. Grover’s furry legs trembled as he stared down the hill they’d just gotten up, completely silent, and Thalia—

Where was Thalia?

Annabeth tried to get up but her legs gave out almost immediately, and steady arms caught her before she could fall to the ground again. Kind eyes served to ease some of her panic—she was older than Annabeth, maybe around Luke or Thalia’s age.

Thalia—

“Hey, you’re okay,” the voice said, and Annabeth’s attention was drawn back to you. “I’ve got you.”

“Where’s Thalia?” she blurted out, because now she couldn’t think of anything else.

Your brows creased and you glanced back down the hill—Annabeth did too, and she saw Grover and Luke arguing with each other. Or rather, Luke was yelling at him as Grover anxiously hooked his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know,” you said, “but right now, I need to make sure you’re okay. Are you hurt?”

Annabeth absentmindedly held up her arm, but she was only focused on her friends. Why wasn’t Thalia with them? Why was Luke so upset?

You cursed under your breath in Ancient Greek as you cradled her arm, and you looked back down the hill. Annabeth could see at least half a dozen other kids.

“We’ve got two half-bloods and a satyr, one injured!” you yelled back. “Get Molly and Brayden!”

“Three,” Annabeth found herself saying. “There’s three half-bloods—”

“Annabeth!”

Her head shot up at the sound of Luke calling her name as he bounded over, and her eyes widened at the blood steadily spidering across the fabric of his shirt.

“Luke, you’re hurt—”

“I’m fine,” he insisted. “It’s fine.”

“We have Apollo kids coming,” you said, looking up at him, still cradling Annabeth’s arm. “We’ll get y—”

Your sentence stuck in your throat, and Annabeth could see tears welling in your eyes as your brows furrowed. She thought Luke’s eyes might burst out of his skull as he stared at you, his lips parted but nothing coming out. Neither of you were able to form words.

When he finally did get something out, it was a single name. One Annabeth knew by heart, one that he’d mourned for years.

“Luke?” you whispered.

Before he had the chance to do anything, two teenagers got over the hill and called out your name, the same one Luke used. He always said you were dead, but you clearly weren’t dead, because you were here and you had her arm in your grasp and while your hands were cold, they weren’t cold enough to be dead—

“Molly’s gonna take care of you,” you said, looking back at Annabeth and cutting off her inner dialogue. “She’ll get you to the infirmary and heal you up, okay?”

“My friends—”

“They’re gonna be okay too,” you said. “I promise.”

Annabeth looked up at Luke, and he nodded. “We’ll be with you soon, Annabeth. We— we have to talk about some things.”

So she went with Molly down the hill, and Annabeth put pressure on her bleeding wound when she told her to—it had started to sting like hell now that her adrenaline was fading.

She looked back just in time to see you and Luke share the tightest hug ever.

The hug of two people who realized they weren’t seeing ghosts, Annabeth thought.

You bolted up in bed, eyes wide and your chest heaving as you rapidly sucked in air. Your fingers found purchase in your bedsheets, desperate for something familiar—it took a second for you to recognize your surroundings, that you weren’t in an endless void, but your childhood bedroom offered little comfort.

You ran a hand over your forehead, damp with sweat, as you tried to calm down. Your breathing slowed, but you couldn’t shake that awful feeling that hung over you in your sleep.

Your nightmares were getting worse, you knew that much. That raspy, demented voice used to be a rarity, and now it appeared every night. You could usually deal with your nightmares, but the sense of absolute dread that voice and the pit fostered in you was too much. You hadn’t managed to sleep through the night once since you came home for the school year.

You could deal with the monsters—to you, this was the worst part of your godly blood.

A knock rattled on the door out of nowhere, and you nearly jumped out of your skin. The only thing that calmed you down was the thought that monsters didn’t knock.

“Come in,” you croaked, your throat drier than a desert.

Thankfully, a monster hadn’t come to make your night even more miserable. Luke stood in the doorway, his eyebrows creased in concern, messy curls hanging just above his eyes. He wore the Red Sox t-shirt you’d bought for him at the game you dragged him to, and in your addled state, you didn’t even think to tease him about it.

“Are you okay?” He should’ve been as disoriented as you, but his alerted eyes told a different story.

You could only think of one thing. “How did you know?”

Luke’s lips parted for a moment, as if he hadn’t even considered it. “I could just feel it.”

You managed a smile despite every atom in your body screaming at you. “I think that means you can come in.”

He closed the door behind him, and you shifted over in your bed to make room for him. There wasn’t much in a twin, but you made it work. Luke’s weight pressed into the mattress, making you adjust your position, and it was more comforting than any amount of blankets.

“You’re so cold,” he murmured, laying the back of his hand against your arm. “How do you live like that?”

“Blame my dad,” you said. “I’ve got water in my blood.”

“I think that’s probably a bad thing,” Luke said, and you knocked your shoulder into his with a huff.

“You know what I mean.”

Luke let his hand fall back in his lap, and as you brought your knees up to your chest, you pulled the covers with them.

“So,” Luke said, glancing at you, “what’s got you awake at the witching hour?”

“The usual,” you mumbled.

“Nightmares that might be prophetic?” he asked.

You made a lazy gesture with your hand. “Bingo.”

“The worst sense of dread imaginable?”

“Bullseye.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You shrugged. “It’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

“You don’t always have to put on a front, y’know,” Luke said. You felt his eyes on you. “You don’t always have to be strong.”

“I’m naturally strong,” you said with mock austerity. “Comes with the god for a dad.”

Luke chuckled and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” you murmured.

You leaned into his side, fitting your head into the crook of his neck. Luke wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer, and you let out a contented sigh.

That voice in your nightmares seemed so small when you had Luke.

“Can you stay?” you asked softly.

He didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

“Just like old times,” you whispered.

“Just like old times,” he agreed.

Luke ran hot, and you’d never been more thankful for it as you fully settled into his side. Icy blood ran through your veins, and you let out a shaky sigh. You could hear his steady breathing, feel his heartbeat through his chest, and the anxiety from earlier began to steadily fade. You never felt safer than when you were with Luke.

There was something between you—you weren’t that stupid—but you hadn’t talked about it. With you and Luke, it was just… you and Luke. You didn’t have to put a label to it.

How could you put a label to your relationship, when you’d spent your first few years together fighting for each day, and then the next few thinking the other was dead?

Maybe someday, you would talk about it. But for now, this was more than enough.

“Don’t worry,” Luke murmured in your ear as your eyes began to droop. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

And by the gods, you believed him.

#reader is the mara of she ra the mikey berzatto of the bear the nellie crain of hill house DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

2K notes · View notes

hauntedhowlett-writes · 1 year ago

Text

𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!

author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.

“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.

“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.

Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”

“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.

He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.

“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”

You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.

“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”

A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.

“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”

Me, too, he thinks.

Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.

“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.

“Three! Two! One!”

A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.

“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.

You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.

“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.

“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.

“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.

You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.

His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.

Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.

You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.

“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”

Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.

“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”

You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.

Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.

"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."

You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.

"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."

"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."

"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"

He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.

"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.

"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.

"The number of times ain't just one."

"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."

He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."

"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.

"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."

You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.

"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.

"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.

Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.

The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.

At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.

“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”

“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”

Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”

“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”

“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.

After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.

He counts that as a win.

He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.

“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.

He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.

You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.

“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.

“Would you…want to come inside?”

Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”

You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.

“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”

“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.

He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”

“‘Bout what?” Joel asks.

“You.”

“You got a report card ready for me already?”

“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.

You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”

Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”

“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”

“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”

“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe.”

Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.

“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”

You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.

You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”

A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.

You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.

Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.

“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.

“That feel good?” You ask.

“Uh huh.”

You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.

You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.

“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.

You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.

“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”

You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”

“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.

“That was nothing.”

Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.

“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”

“Or?” He asks.

“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”

You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.

Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”

Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.

“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”

“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”

He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.

“Do you have to get going?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Not even close, darlin’.”

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal character

3K notes · View notes

yvvxs · 2 months ago

Text

Trick or Treat!

‎‎ ‎‎ ‎↪ ft. argenti. arlan. aventurine. blade. boothill. caelus. dan heng & imbibitor lunae. dr ratio. gallagher. gepard. jing yuan. jiaoqiu. luka. luocha. moze. sampo. welt.

You and Argenti would definitely portray Beauty and the Beast. Going around in your costumes from door to door surprising the residents on the area with how beautiful your boyfriend is. Is he the Beast? Or is he the Beauty? Both. Both works.

Arlan would be going around in a silly onesie that the lead researcher had bought for him. Asta had made him go on break just to enjoy getting some sweet treats from any of the researchers, of course, he had to invite you as well. He denied receiving any of the candy, giving any and all of it to you. What was he doing with his pumpkin then? Well, holding Peppy, of course!

Going around with your vampire-dressed boyfriend, Aventurine would easily charm people. He made a bet with you on who'd be getting more candy. You both went together, so you were getting around the same amount of candy. But, somehow you seemed to have a lot more than he did.. Had he been giving you some of his own stash?

Blade didn't wear a costume, or at least, on his own accord. You had to force him, with the help of the other Stellaron Hunters, to give him an outfit to wear. A mummy costume was the only one that would have already fit him with the bandages that were already wrapped around him, just needed to add a few more, and he fit the look entirely! Though, he refuses any and all candy that he was being given.

Almost unrecognizable, Boothill would be wearing a mummy costume. Or what seemed to be the bits of it. Any of the bandages slipped around the metal of his body, falling off easily. Most of which just sat on his hat. Well, it didn't matter, he was having fun alongside you anyways.

Caelus would be wearing a racoon onesie that March had bought for him. She said it fit him, and so he wore it. It had a little pouch on the front, so he can hold any and all candy that he had stole– rightfully gotten.

Dan Heng would have to be convinced by you just to join in the Halloween festivities. He also wore a onesie that March had bought. Fittingly enough, it was a dragon one. Trick or Treating as Imbibitor Lunae was different, you'd decorate the space in between his horns with little spiderwebs. Insisting that it looked 'spooky'. He was sure you were just doing it for the sake of doing it. Oh well, he couldn't get angry at you.

Dr. Ratio had gone as a mad scientist, specifically, Victor Frankenstein, and you, as his monster. He wouldn't say he was fond of these activities, but he couldn't deny that doing them was somewhat enjoyable, especially when you were there with him. After all, even the doctor would have to take some breaks to have some fun. Though, he did make sure you lessened your sugar intake, he wouldn't want you getting a cavity tonight.

Going around as a werewolf, Gallagher enjoyed the trick-or-treating. Though, he most enjoyed giving candy to those who came to the Dreamjolt Hostelry. Seeing whatever costumes that people could come up with was quite fun. He'd sometimes give them a drink tailor-made for them for free as they continued on with their festive activities.

Having been convinced by Lady Bronya, Gepard had gone trick-or-treating alongside you. He was wearing a cheetah costume, bought by his sisters from some IPC members that were selling them. But he couldn't deny that seeing people enjoy themselves on this one day was quite rewarding. Especially knowing that these people were safe.

Jing Yuan was wearing a lion costume, matching with Yanqing, to the teenager's displeasure. The three of you going trick-or-treating was a sight for any on the Luofu watching. They'd give all of you some extra candy, which the General happily snacked on. What a cheeky bastard.

Sitting alongside you on the Yaoqing's streets, Jiaoqiu handed out candy to those who came. Though, he did join the trick-or-treating himself with your help, wearing a werewolf costume you and Feixiao bought. The two of you went along, describing the cute costumes that you saw for him. Despite his disability, he still enjoyed the activity, especially when you were there by his side.

Luka went around Belobog in his robot costume that Hook had made for him. He looked silly, but he enjoyed it nonetheless. It was the first time he was able to go trick-or-treating, and he was happy that he could do it with you.

Luocha was wearing a vampire costume that you had insisted he wear. It matched the coffin, and that solidified the look. He wasn't entirely fond of going around and getting sweets, but he'd gladly do it if you so wished.

Convinced by you, General Feixiao and Jiaoqiu, Moze finally decided to along with you in trick-or-treating. He wore a silly vampire costume that you and Feixiao had gotten. It matched him, you insisted. It'd just be for a day, he supposed, and it wasn't too bad at the least.

You and Sampo had worn matching costumes. A police officer and a burglar, you'd pretend to chase him, but he'd evade quickly as usual. Such a shame the people you two were visiting didn't know he was secretly stealing more candy than he should have gotten. Well, it was for you, so perhaps he could be let off the hook a tiny bit.

Welt wore a robot-themed onesie that March had bought for him, going around the planets and seeing the creativity in their costumes truly excited his inner child. He loved watching them, and you both knew that. He seemed like the person not to enjoy such an activity, but in reality, he did.

Masterlist || Do not repost nor feed to AI. Reblogs & Comments are much appreciated.

531 notes · View notes

shewasverynice · 3 months ago

Text

Cow *space* Boy - Part 1

@baobei-bu made this fucking INCREDIBLE art and I cannot stop looking at it. SO here's the result of that.

((It's also a three parter with Suguru and Nanami next))

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Rating: Explicit

Content: Cosplay, Overstim, Established Relationship, Fingering, Creampie, Multiple Orgasms, Eating Out, SATORU GOJO HIMSELF <3

Sarah stood with her fingers pinching between her eyes and her other hand on her hip. This was not it. This was not it at all.

"What?" Satoru shrugged, the cow bell attached to his pink bow tie clanging as he stepped closer, "Cow boys right? You said cow boy, didn't you?"

"Yeehaw cowboys," Sarah sighed, opening one eye, then looking away again, "As in, not the cow himself, Satoru."

"Ah," Satoru looked down at his outfit. A tiny little crop top that barely covered his pecs. Some straps that probably could have gone around some tits or something but were around his waist just hanging decoratively. The thong holding on for dear life. All of it was covered in pink cow spots. That's not to forget the headband of course. Very important. Cute fluffy cow ears and pink horns. He was so sure she'd be into it!

"You like it though, right?" He asked. That notorious cocky grin appeared on his pretty pink lips when he reached forward to lift her chin and make her look him in the eyes.

"I dunno, man! Of course I do- I don't- I just- I-" she stammered, struggling to keep eye contact.

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice dropping low and husky, "Yeah, I know you do. Just admit it."

Before she could say anything else he leaned closer to her ear and let his lips brush just enough so that when he asked, "So, little farm girl, are you gonna milk this cow dry," she shuddered.

"Why is that hot," she muttered, pushing him back, "Why is everything you do so fucking hot?"

"You like it, don't lie," he laughed, and his wife surprised him suddenly with his favorite thing.

Her eyes met his with a certain defiance, a devilish smirk as well. The kind of look that defined the very reason he was willing to put on any kind of stupid costume she wanted. It didn't matter what she wanted. He'd do it. He'd do it enthusiastically just to see that look on her face.

"What?" Satoru asked, unable to hide the obvious excitement in his voice. As if he didn't know what she was about to do.

She tilted her head, shifting so she was hovered above him, balancing on her forearms. “I've never milked a cow like this before,” she murmured playfully, "She seems a bit odd, but what do I know? I'm new to farming after all.”

He bit his lip, reaching up to trace along her jawline. “Moo?”

"Don't do that," she huffed, then shoved him back onto the bed. He allowed himself to land on the comforter, his tongue swiping across his lips as she crawled over him.

"Sorry," he chuckled, "But what are you going to do to me, Miss Farmer?" He fluttered his long white eyelashes, making his best innocent eyes up at her.

There was a hot flush on Sarah's cheeks, and it was seeping steadily down her neck to the pale skin on her chest. Her eyes were positively wicked when she purred, "You want to find out?"

"Fuck yes, I want to," Satoru murmured. He tilted his head down, his sunglasses sliding down his nose, and got real close to Sarah's pretty lips. They had all the time in the world today. They could take all the time they wanted to play this little "cow boy" game.

Apparently she knew that too because Sarah shifted, attempting to pin his wrists in her small hands over his head on the pillows. Satoru chuckled at her, but a groan rumbled in his chest as her palm slipped between their bodies and across the strap around his exposed middle. Her fingers tugged and teased at the pink leather and it took more restraint than he expected to hold still for her.

Sarah let up a little to look down at him underneath her, catching her thumb in his belly button. "Want me to do a southern accent too?" She mumbled with a grin, and Satoru made an undignified snort. He shook his head at her, barely biting back his own grin.

"Damn, baby, I do actually love this," Sarah breathed out, snapping the band of his cow spotted thong. Satoru's skin was already warm, flushed just a little pink from his impatient needs. It turned just a shade darker when he watched her eyes rake over him. They were tight enough for her to see the exact outline of his cock as it throbbed and thickened. The damn thing would probably tear off if he was all the way hard, and wasn't that a hell of a thought.

Sarah let her grip on his wrists go, sliding down his body and shoving up his crop top. She sunk her teeth in gently, just between his pecs where the skin was thin and especially pale, sucking a little. Satoru made a little huffing sound and lifted them both up on his hips invitingly. But because Sarah loves to tease him, and because Satoru's skin tasted good and just a little salty from sweat, she bit and suckled all across his chest. Pulling the blood up to the surface long enough to leave dark red patches that would be purple soon enough. Biting at him until he hissed for relief.

"Oh?" She chuckled. Sure enough, Satoru's cock was threatening to tear the cheap fabric. They never made these slutty little costumes for more than one use clearly. That or he just bought the first thing he saw without accounting for size. That was probably more likely.

Satoru raised an eyebrow to where Sarah's panties were visibly soaked, which Sarah pointedly ignored. Instead she hooked her thumbs in the tiny thong and started to tug them off. "Well let's take a look at this cow, hmm?" Sarah purred when they were gone. All that was left in front of her were miles of Satoru's big toned body, still pale even with the cute splotches of pink.

“Yeah,” Satoru hummed, pushing up her t-shirt, “I definitely have a lot of milk for you little farmer... Better make sure to get it all out, yeah?”

Sarah’s shirt hit the ground before she tilted her head, "Oh don't worry. You'll be bone dry when I'm done with you, big guy."

“Get in here,” Satoru said impatiently, pulling Sarah up with his hand on the back of her neck. And suddenly Sarah couldn't believe she hadn't kissed him properly yet; that definitely had to have violated some law somewhere, taking so long to do that!

“Yeah,” breathed Sarah, between the presses of Satoru’s hot wet mouth into hers, "Satoru..."

Satoru let out one of his long lusty sighs, his voice low and breathy in that way that always made her body ache for him. Sarah pulled back to look at him, meeting that hot blue stare, his pretty mouth parted and wet and soft. She reached up, tracing his lower lip with her thumb and grinning lazily when Satoru whimpered.

She couldn't wait any longer, her thumb resting on his lower lip. She leaned in to kiss him, her tongue snaking against his and his meeting hers with his usual ferocity.

The leather of the strap bit into his skin and hers as she plastered herself to his body, but neither of them happened to give a shit. Satoru gasped, the sweetest sound in the fucking world, when their hips pressed together. Sarah could feel his cock pressed up close along through her panties. It throbbed desperately, and because he was panting and flushed and desperate as always, she rocked nice and slow until he broke the seal on their kiss to moan loudly into her mouth.

"Ooh, that's it," Sarah mumbled, "Let me hear you, pretty cow."

Satoru laughed, but the sound quickly melted into a sweet little gasp and low groans while she rolled her hips into his. She ducked her head down, sucking just behind his ear. His damp snowy hair dripped onto her nose.

Into her ear, Satoru breathed, "You're so sweet, baby -- I just want to touch you all over. I'll make you feel so good."

Sarah's breathing hitched, "Who's in charge here? The cow or the farmer?"

Satoru grabbed her, hooking his arms around her and suddenly she was beneath him. The cowbell around his neck clanged. He spread her legs, draping them around his waist and leaned down to scratch his teeth along the underside of her jaw, gripping hard at her thighs. His slid his hands up and over her soft skin, pressing into the muscle beneath. He cupped her breasts in two hands, brushing his thumbs over her nipples. The second they started to peak and harden under his touch, he groaned.

She whimpered a little, still caught off guard by the sudden switch. Her mouth had fallen open as he teased her and he couldn't help himself. He kissed her again, his tongue taking up the space in her mouth that no other man would dare to invade.

"Let me fuck you, Miss Farmer, please," Satoru rasped. He grazed his teeth along the outer shell of her ear, rubbing his nose into the smell of her. "C'mon, sweetheart. I'll make you feel so fucking good. I'll make it last all afternoon. I'll fuck you until the sun goes down. Empty all this milk in you... On you... wherever you want. C'mon..."

Sarah moaned, biting her lip. "I'm supposed to milk you, not the other way around."

"Ohh, fuck, you're gonna milk me alright," Satoru said, grinning into her neck. He stopped rubbing his cock on her heat and she stubbornly twisted her hips against him, trying to get that sweet friction back.

His chest rumbled as he continued, "Do you even understand how excited I was for this? I've been thinking about this since I ordered this cow thing." He grinded his cock hard against her, breathing in her ear, "All you gotta do is ask and I'll fuck you just how you want it. I'll make you feel so damn good, just how you know I can. All I wanna do is make you come, baby doll. It's all I can think about, sweetheart… Fuck, please, don’t leave me hangin’. I just wanna see you make a mess. I gotta see it, gotta feel how hot you are inside. C’mon, Sarah, oh fuck, baby! Let me get you off, please!”

“Holy shit, Satoru,” Sarah hissed, clenching her fingers into his hair.

He laughed, then started kissing her. Softly. Making her chase after it. "Mm, that a yes? It is right? Yeah? You gonna let me, right?"

“Yes!” Sarah whimpered, breathing hard. “Satoru! Yeah. C'mon!”

When Satoru pulled back there were hectic splotches of color high on Sarah's cheeks, a deep blush heating up the skin on her chest and abs. He sat back on his heels, admiring the view for a moment, and raised an eyebrow, his own cheeks flushed red.

Satoru finally tore himself away, backing up to the edge of the bed with a few more soft clangs from the bell on his neck. Reaching up, he shucked down her panties in half a second and threw them across the room. Crawling back up the bed and hovering over her on his hands and knees, he licked his lips. She was spread out so pretty underneath him that he thought he might have a heart attack.

"Goddamn I love you," he mumbled, cupping her breasts again and rubbing his thumbs over her nipples. He dipped his head down and scraped his teeth gently over the hard point of one. She slid her hand over the back of his head and into his fuzzy undercut. He could feel the breath in her chest hitching under his mouth.

He squeezed once again, feeling her muscles flex beneath her breast and swapped to the other side. This time he had a different plan of attack. With his tongue pointed, he flicked a few times then finally gave in and sucked. Sarah squirmed, and Satoru groaned against her skin.

“Satoru, I thought you were desperate to get in me,” she complained, but clearly loved it anyway.

Satoru kissed up the long pretty pale line of her neck. “Not my fault that you’ve got the prettiest tits, baby.”

“Shut up,” Sarah huffed, looking away as soon as their eyes met.

"What? You do," Satoru defended with a low chuckle. "You've always been beautiful, Sarah, so fucking pretty, don't you dare think otherwise. And now... Look at these curves, baby, how am I supposed to resist, huh?"

With his hand, he rolled one of her sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Her back arched up and she whined. "Look at that... Shit, baby, you want it bad," Satoru mumbled.

He lapped at the sweat in the hollow of her throat, shamelessly groping her tits with a sucking hiss. "I should have made you be the cow, and I mean that in the most sexy way possible. Someday I'm gonna make you wear it, and then I'll get you off just like this. You'd like that, yeah? I'll suck on these pretty little tits until I make you come."

"Mmn-- Aah!" She gasped, biting down on her lip, "Satoru that's just --"

"It's hot right?" He rasped, his voice husky as his tongue twirled around a nipple again, "You'd be such a mess. Maybe if I do it enough I'd really get some milk." His eyes glazed over for a moment and his lips curled into a smile, "Well... I guess there is an easier way to get that... But we'll save that for later. Maybe when we try the bunny suit, yeah?"

"Who's gonna be the bunny?" Sarah whined, and Satoru chuckled, his finger working it's way inside her. She gasped at the intrusion, and he might as well have too. She was so warm inside -- flushed all the way through. Her voice hitched, "Satoru, just -- please, you can just --"

"Hmm? You were so ready to tease me earlier, what changed?" he murmured, his middle finger slipping out to the tip before he plunged it back inside.

"You're a bastard," Sarah groaned, "A real grade-A -- asshole, Satoru Gojo."

"Mmhmm, how many times do you think I need it today?" Satoru asked casually, because she is absolutely right. Because he can be a grade-A asshole, but she loves it. "Two? Three? Or should I really make sure I'm wrung out, hmm? We got all night. No one is gonna bother us."

For some reason, she lurched up and kissed him deeply. She pulled him down on top of her and trapped him with her legs. As Satoru sat up again she smirked at him, "Whatever we gotta do to make sure we got everything, right?"

He laughed, low and husky. Damn, what he wouldn't do for this woman, looking at him with her bright happy eyes. He kissed her again and it was everything, the heat of her soft mouth and the heat inside her where his finger was stroking in lazy and slow curls.

Satoru mimicked the rhythm with his tongue and Sarah whimpered, her legs spreading just a bit further. He pressed his mouth to her neck -- she was so sensitive, everywhere, and it's only getting better the more he played -- and fit another finger inside where she was so tight and hot. The pads of his middle and ring fingers targeted her sweet spot and her head tipped back. She moaned so loudly, her jaw falling open and her eyes nearly crossing.

"Mmmn... That's right..." Satoru rumbled.

Her eyes were barely focused, trailing down his body to his cock. It was so red and huge. Fuck, he wanted to be inside her already, but it was so fun to see her like that.

“How many times do YOU need it today?" Satoru asked this time, twirling his fingers harder into her spot and chuckling as her eyes squeezed shut.

"I-- I don't... Haaah Sa-Satoru I don't know..."

Satoru considered touching her clit, honestly it was difficult to hold back, and instead curled his fingers just right again, rubbing slowly and surely where it counted. "That's not an answer, sweetheart," he breathed, tugging her earlobe between his teeth.

"Sa-Satoru! Aaah," she gasped, "Fuck I dunno... Three? C'mon please..."

When Satoru pulled away Sarah honest to God whimpered. "You asked for it," Satoru reminded her, dragging his slick fingers into his mouth. It's difficult not to dive in for more, especially when she's on her back with her legs spread for him.

Sarah's eyes were on his cock, marveling at just how hard he was. The pink straps around his middle were already stretched, the cheap leather rubbing through and wearing thin. His little crop top was still pushed up, his chest bruising from her earlier assault. That devilish lustful look in his beautiful eyes made a fresh flush rise on her face.

He grinned, leaning in closer. Sarah's skin was so soft, inside her thighs, right where he was about to take up all the space. His space. He held his breath, pushing the head of his cock through her slick folds and into her soft hairs just above her clit. She squirmed and gripped his forearms. Her head fell back, exposing the line of her throat as she swallowed hard. Satoru repositioned, bracing his left hand beside Sarah's head, and started to push inside.

"Ah," She gasped, chewing at her lip. His cock reached her depths and he didn't even bother to wait. He built a nice steady rock right away, moving perfectly in time. The cow bell clanged with each thrust and it would have been hilarious if it they hadn't been so fucking invested.

"You feel so good," Satoru choked out. It's so hot, scorching inside her, "So fucking sweet, Sarah, shit!" Satoru’s eyebrows were knitted together, his eyes closed, and his mouth dropped open.

"Ohhh fuck, Satoru... You're so good, baby," Sarah gasped out. Praise gets him the way nothing else does, and Satoru's hips staggered. The bell clanged louder for a moment and his breath came hard through his nose as he calmed himself down.

Sarah's hair was hanging in front of her eyes, damp with sweat. Satoru's abs and chest were slick too, the shitty leather digging into his thigh and the top soaking it up. Sweat trickled down to the curve of her collarbone and he considered biting all over her. Instead he settled for pressing both his thumbs hard into her hips, still moving steadily inside her.

Sarah arched in the hottest way, trying to take him deeper, just the lower dip of her spine pushing away from the bed, her ass and shoulders still down. Satoru gripped there, just at the top of the curve of that ass, all that tight plush skin.

"Damn," Satoru panted, "I wanna bite all over you. I want to show everyone you're mine. No fuckin' mistake."

Sarah's stomach was clenching, her legs tensing and shivering. Satoru recognized that moan, knew those clenched teeth and glazed eyes trained on nothing -- he's known it since he first got her into his bed and would never ever forget.

“That’s right,” Satoru rasped. With his left hand he twirled her clit. Damn, she was beautiful, her shivery needy moans. The bell rang out in time, bouncing hard off his chest as he sped up. “Baby, yeah, that’s right, I wanna see you, I wanna see it, baby doll; Sarah, you’re so fucking good to me —“

Easy as anything, she came. Overwhelmed by it, tightening up around Satoru inside, nails raking down his biceps and forearms. He watched those abs clench, the way her hips stutter and her pussy throb. And her face. Fuck! And the sounds she made for him. Blushing everywhere, moaning out loud, high and shocked.

And Satoru, God help him, he had to do it. It made him crazy to watch her come like that. He pressed Sarah’s hips hard into the bed and pounded into her, jarring her lax exhausted body. He leaned down to bury his face in her neck, to bite, to breathe in. The cow bell muffled finally, pressing between their chests.

"Haaah! Sarah! Oh -- fuck, baby," he gritted out. It hit him hard, his hips jerking hard. He stayed deep inside Sarah as he finished, powerless not to. The last aftershocks rushed through him. Her hands pawed at him like she might drown if her hands weren't on him. Even though he had pure satisfaction settling into his bones, it was so fucking warm and sweet in her arms that he never wanted to move. He could just keep his dick tucked into her until the world ended. That sounded like a good plan, if he was being honest.

"Holy shit, sweetheart," he mumbled, pressing his face up into her hands and kissing her palm. "My baby, my pretty girl. I don't know how I take you anywhere without bending you over anything I can find."

"Pervert," she huffed in a laugh, tugging on his little cow headband with her fingers, "Don't say that dressed like this."

"You should praise me more," Satoru pouted playfully, pulling back, "I deserve an award or something. I don't know how I get anything done with you asking me to do shit like this."

"I definitely didn't ask for this specifically," she laughed, mindlessly massaging his thighs with both hands.

"This bell is loud as fuck," he commented, flicking it with a loud Ting!

His come was hot and sticky between them, and when he slowly pulled out and got an eyeful of her freshly fucked pussy his dick twitched pitifully. He groaned, swiping his tongue over his lips and unsticking his death grip on her hips. She bruised so quickly and easily like a peach, the marks so dark on her skin. She always liked to wear shorts too so no one would miss his clear hand prints around her thighs.

Good, he thought to himself with a smug snort.

Satoru kissed her sweetly, lulling her into a false sense of security. He dragged a pillow down the bed, plopping it down beside her and rolling her bodily over onto it. Face down, belly to the mattress and pillow under her hips.

Sarah groaned, partially because she likes being manhandled, but mostly because, "Satoru, you dick, we're gonna stain the pillow."

"I'll buy you fifty more pillows," he huffed. He smoothed both of his hands up the expanse of her back, watching the muscles shift under her skin. "Besides, I've still got more to give you, little farm girl."

Sarah sighed in agreement and finally Satoru reached down to her ass and took in two perfect handfuls. Sarah had her arms folded under her head, her eyes closed and her cheek resting on her hands. She breathed deeply, unsurprised when Satoru's fingers glided through her folds again. She pushed her ass back and yelped with a laugh when he swatted it and thumbed her lips apart.

His come drooled out of her and Satoru thought he might die. But, his hand was forced. There was nothing left to do. There was only one option to take in this particular situation --

He laid down, his shins on the floor off the bed and torso draped over the comforter, and licked all around her pink opening. Kneading her ass with both of his big hands. He couldn't take her like his, all wet and messy and exhausted. The only thing he could think about was holding her down and fucking her again and again.

"You're filthy," she moaned, like she could read his mind -- which honestly he wouldn't be surprised if she could at this point.

"You're wet," he mumbled through her labia, because really that should explain all his compulsions.

Satoru made no effort whatsoever to lick her clean. He liked her dirty with his mess and saliva. Instead he made it his mission to eat her out until she cried. He was so pushy about it, bullying his tongue into her and shaking his head and slurping. She was wriggling with over stimulation, but once he got her past that and into space she'd go limp and panting she'd give in to it. Just lay there on her belly and claw at the comforter, shifting her hips with her muscles tensing and releasing. Singing a song for only him to hear.

So, he did just that. Building her up slow with just his tongue. Just enough that she wouldn't call for him to stop. But then he buried his face in her.

It's when he slid down enough to scrape his teeth on her sensitive lips and she really lost it, whining high in her throat. Her breath was turning into gasping sobs, because she wanted to get off but he just wouldn't let her. Instead he got his tongue inside, teasing it around the rim, and even using his teeth and fingers. He slipped in his thumb, licking around it, and when he pulled it out his own come was on it.

"Mmmnn god you taste good," he moaned into her.

Satoru had patience when it came to this. Real, endless patience. Everything else in the world slipped right away because nothing was as important as her continued, quiet, hitching sounds when he nibbled real light and careful right at her lips. Just making a complete mess of her until she didn't know anything but his name.

Time turned into nothing, stretching on without anything but the sounds of her moans and his breathy grunts and sighs. Finally he pulled back, sinking his teeth into the meat of her ass and easily stuck two fingers inside her. Her muscles clenched immediately and he groaned a long low sound that melted into a laugh.

"You're drooling," he whispered, leaning up on his knees to kiss at her shoulders. They shivered like she was cold, but it was clear that she was so close to coming she was just lost in the sauce. "You like it, baby? Hmm? You like it when your man gets you all messed up?"

Sarah made some kind of pathetic mewl. She was far too gone, but Satoru still wanted to hear words. He dug his fingers into her scalp, tugging on her hair and her whole body shuddered hard.

“Say it to me,” Satoru murmured, “Say it to me sweetheart, I wanna hear it. Are you gonna come?”

She made another sound, a muffled, elongated "ah," and Satoru pressed his knuckles down into her sweet spot. He turned her head to look at her face, sucking through his teeth when he saw how wet her eyelashes were and how red her face was. He wanted that sight burned into his retinas.

“You’re s-so good,” Sarah praised him suddenly, “Satoru... I-- I can’t take it... Aaahnn! you’re so good.”

Well, that's enough fucking around then.

His fingers pinched her clit and he drove his knuckles hard into her spot, fucking her hard with his fingers. She came immediately, wailing, tearing at the comforter, her body shaking and seizing up hard around Satoru's fingers. Her breaths came like huge heaving sobs and hiccups when she finally started to fall back to Earth.

Satoru hadn't seen anything so beautiful in his life. Which is of course what the thinks every time he makes this happen. Somehow he forgot how hard it gets him and how hot he'd suddenly feel under his skin watching her fall apart. Her forehead rolled against the sheets, catching her breath and smiling lazily.

“You did so good,” Sarah praised, “Baby, that was amazing, I can’t believe —“

“Two down,” Satoru said, “One to go.”

She gasped, then smirked at him. She shifted her hips, a little wiggle and purrs, "Well, c'mon then cow boy."

The grin on his face would probably be permanent after this mess.

He grabbed her, thrusting inside in one quick and sure stroke with a heavy clang of the cow bell. There was absolutely no time to wait. Absolutely not. He held her sturdy hips in both hands and really gave it to her. Really, really fucked her hard and breathless. The cow bell clanged and clanged, almost covering up his loud groaning swears and gasps.

She clawed the bed sheets up under her hands, moaning low in her throat. Satoru reached down, yanking her head up by the hair and she slipped a hand beneath her body to twirl her clit.

Something snapped. That was it, game over. He pressed her face down hard into the mattress, the other hand gripping her ass hard and fucking her as hard and fast as he wanted. She got off first with a choked-off moan, her hips jarring out of rhythm with his. He saw no other option than to hold her down even harder. That fucking bell was ringing so loud he was sure it was changing his brain chemistry.

It only took a few more strokes while her cunt desperately milked him and he was coming too. Moaning shamelessly loudly and panting. She was twisting and writhing, her feet pressed up into his ass from behind. He was losing his mind in that white-hot goodness.

Finally, she nudged at him to get off and she rolled over onto her back with her legs splayed wide. She was covered in sweat and filled with his come, and he spread out beside her on his stomach, throwing the bell off onto the floor to lay without it digging into him.

“I think I’m dead,” Satoru mumbled into the sheets, "That was fuckin' amazing."

Sarah sighed, looking over his way and tugging at one of the cute little ears on his head band, "This is pretty cute... I think we'll have to keep it."

He snorted and grinned, "Oh, we're definitely keeping it."

"I liked your little cow panties," she grinned and he laughed, hiding his face in his arms. If he was being honest, it was a little embarrassing, but he wouldn't chicken out for a request for her even if he'd apparently gotten it wrong.

She stretched out her legs, rolling onto her side. “I feel like I got mauled by a bear,” she complained, but when she looked over at him she had a grin on her face.

“More like a bull," Satoru laughed and buried his face as she swatted playfully at his head, just as he expected.

“I KNEW you were gonna say that!" She laughed, and he rolled over and yanked her into his arms.

“Let’s take a shower,” he suggested, nuzzling his head into her hair.

"I just took one before you defiled me," she teased.

“Yeah, ‘cause you asked for it," he teased, sneering at her.

“Quit talking shit,” Sarah laughed, sitting up to kiss his forehead.

Satoru tilted his head and grinned. “You like it.”

Suddenly she narrowed her eyes, looking up at the little cow ears. He watched her hand as it reached up, her fingers feeling around for a moment. There was a soft click.

"Moo! 💕"

They looked at each other as the ears let out a robotic, tinny cow sound. There was a full five seconds of silence between them before they cracked up, laughing so hard tears rolled down their cheeks.

If you liked that I also do custom commissions for smut! Check it out if you want your own OC to meet the cow boys or literally anything dudes I'm pretty flexible!

PART 2 ON THE WAY!!

Suguru is next hehehehhee

#fanfiction #writing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #baobei-bu #cowboy #cosplay #gojo smut #smut

1K notes · View notes

genderlessghoul · 1 year ago

Text

I've been wanting to do this post for a while now so here is EVERYTHING I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE GHOULS' IMPERA COSTUMES.

Buckle up because I have a LOT to say about those, this is gonna be a very long one.

The costumes were designed by B Åkerlund, a Swedish costume designer who's worked with Ghost since at least Meliora (that's as far back as I was willing to scroll on her Instagram page lol). B Åkerlund has also worked for many other musical artists such as Lady Gaga, Beyoncé, Madonna, the Rolling Stones, Ozzy Osborne, Blink 182 and Hollywood Undead (information from her own website)

The masks were made by Bob Basset, a visual artists who works a lot with leather. I find his work fascinating, you can look him up on Instagram (nsfw warning, there's a few naked ladies).

Fun fact! The horns are real cow horns. That's the reason some of them have gold tips, to hide the imperfections that come with working with actual horns.

He does have a shop where he sells his items, there's a mask there very similar to the Impera ones. You can also buy Papa's batwings if you happen to have 2500$ lying around!

The jackets are made on the same model as one of Papa's. The back is decorated with a spine-like design made from leather and cording. It's adorned with a few of our classic Impera buttons. Some of the hems were left raw and some deliberate weathering was done to make it look old and worn.

Fun fact! The shoulder pieces are not sewn into the garment, I would assume for easier cleaning. I don't know if they're held by strong magnets or snap buttons.

The vest (my beloved 😩) is made from flocked velvet in a paisley pattern, the front hems embellished with satin piping. It closes in the front with custom metal clasps that are riveted into the garment. The D parts are attached with what seems to me like wide elastic, which would lessen the pression on the clasps when moving around a lot. The back is made from two different types of fabric, I'd have to touch it to be able to tell you what they are. I assume the panels closer to the sides have some mild stretch to them. The top of the shoulders are decorated with Impera grucifix patches.

The shirts were not custom made for the ghouls, altho they were altered. The original shirt in the vintage painter linen shirt from Punk Rave and it is still being sold. Some of the cuffs were altered, removing the ruffles for some of the ghouls, but not all. They were removed for Dew, Mountain and Phantom, Aether's didn't have them either. As far as I can tell, all the ghoulettes still have them.

An unfinished piece of linen serves as an ascot, that piece is decorated with a metal devil skull. The colour of the skull doesn't appear to be consistent between each ghoul, Dew's looks gold almost bronze while Phantom's is a silver-like colour.

Another modification is the buttons, a small portion of them were removed in favor of our Impera buttons. Some of the ghouls have more buttons replaced than others, which is still a mystery to me.

The pants are called Jodhpurs, they were invented in the 1800s as horse riding pants. The wide part at the hips and thighs allowing for better movement. The ones the ghouls wear don't reach all the way to their ankles, they stop a bit past the calf muscle, hidden by the boots. (Yes, the ghouls are effectively wearing capri pants)

The boots are motorcycle riding boots, decorated by a grucifix. Like the shirt, they can still be bought online through the All American Boots website, altho the price tag is... Headache inducing to say the least.

The cape is a piece of costume that was only briefly worn on stage by the ghouls, Aurora being the only one who still wears one. I would assume it gets in the way of playing very easily. The cape itself is made of two fabrics, a light blue satin and a dark grey suede. The two pieces are not sewn together at the bottom, they move freely from each other. The cape is attached on the left shoulder with a harness piece that has one strap across the chest, decorated with a metal buckle, and one under the armpit.

Aight that's it for me, have a nice day byyyyye!!

2K notes · View notes

acis-arts · 5 months ago

Note

I really love your art, the color scheme you use is so fucking soft it makes me want to eat it

anyway my narilamb design: swap version because why not if you do this only with pictures, or any other reason, feel free to ignore this request

narinder in this au is, indeed, a little stinky feral black cat. he was decapitated like the lamb, so he covers his neck, and also wears a white veil, though it only covers his eyes. his outfit is basically his god outfit but with long sleeves to cover his arms, since while we was a prisoner he used to eat his own meat to not die of starvation. he brings to his god "presents" (aka pieces of their enemies)

Lambert, god of mercy and revenge, has three eyes, and a flower crown decorating their head. their horns are extremely pointy, and their teeth too. they weared during their captivity a metal collar that was ensured to four chains keeping them on their knees. they wear a long red fleece decorated with white symbols, and tunic under it.

Thank you! :3

Your designs sound very cool! I hope I got close to the way you imagined them with my drawing.

#requests #art #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl narinder #cotl lamb #narilamb

357 notes · View notes

fryingpan1234567 · 7 months ago

Text

aaaaaanyways. pride month at Camp Half Blood?

if you remember that one post from a while ago (general hc’s about chb), I did say I would do a fully pride post eventually

so without further ado, I present to all my lovely gay demigods:

PRIDE MONTH AT CHB🗣️🗣️

SO we’ve already discussed the decorations of some of the cabins, like Percy putting rainbow hippocampi scales all over the walls, the Demeter and Persephone cabins growing colorful flowers all over their roofs, the Hecate cabin and its Sentient Gay Door

I like to think the Iris cabin is just fully blasting rainbows all the time it looks like a Minecraft beacon

they play capture the flag every June with a pride flag that has the CHB logo on it

limited edition CHB pride merch😭

Mr. D defending trans campers by driving bigots slightly insane long enough to slap themselves and then go back to normal

Y’ALL KNOW ABOUT THE PRONOUN CORRECTION AIR HORNS? THAT’S THE ENTIRE APOLLO CABIN + LEO AND PERCY

Some ignorant prick about a transmasc camper: “Oh yeah she—“

Percy: *AIR HORN* “IT’S HE, BITCH”

Ignorant prick: “Okay Jesus I’m sorry”

A different ignorant prick: *makes some dumb joke about “always being able to tell” and receives at least seven different air horns from all the Apollo campers in the vicinity*

Leo’s been following this one really irritating chick around all day because she can’t figure out one of his sibling’s genders and blasting her in the face every time she fucks up their pronouns😭😭😭

anyways yeah I like to imagine there’s a demigod pride festival somewhere, maybe in New York

or no there’s demigods everywhere I bet they have parade floats all the time in lots of cities and the Mist conceals the “fireworks” which are actually just godly light shows

Apollo rocks up to camp in a rainbow crop top and a pink drink from Starbucks just to sing Born This Way in the middle of the day and then dip again

Aphrodite blessing random queer couples with finding perfect date setups “conveniently” in their paths

all the gods physically restraining Hera when she tries to go fuck with Jason while he’s on a date w Leo

Percy and Annabeth in matching shirts that say ✨BEST BI✨ with the Best Buy price tag logo in the middle

Nico got glitterbombed on June 1st the second he stepped out of his cabin by the entire Apollo cabin (and Jason) and is still finding sparkles in his hair a week later

Aphrodite kids are walking dictionaries of all the rainbow terms, somehow, and they also all know which days in June are for which awareness or pride or whatever flag

campers who transitioned over the school year and coming back to camp a different gender and their godly parent re-claims them as their true self

Percy “I can’t believe I used to think I was straight” Jackson educating some of the younger campers on bisexuality and how, no, you don’t always know right away

Annabeth “I had a crush on Thalia and Luke at the same time and it was horrible” Chase always reassuring the nervous kids that there’s nothing wrong with being queer (and that she’ll fight any homophobic family members they may have)

actually they kind of all do that

Some little kid: “Well……. I don’t wanna tell my stepdad, he might kick me out”

Percy, remembering that his dad kept Medusa’s head after it got sent to Olympus: “Give me your address, I have an idea”

Piper will verbally eviscerate anybody she catches being even remotely homophobic. I mean she will swipe phones out of her siblings’ hands to tell off some ignorant grandmother

Jason does NOT get into physical altercations outside of sparring and literal war, but the closest he ever got was after hearing someone call Nico a slur (Percy and Leo had to physically drag him away from the other guy)

William Solace has white cowboy boots. I Will Start Sobbing On The Spot

Percy and Jason wore matching skirts for the pride festival and it was great— these 6-foot-plus brick shithouses of heroes who have single-handedly won wars aggressively waving tiny pride flags at each other and dancing to IT GIRL on the quad

Cecil and Lou Ellen made these magic rainbow smoke bombs, crawled up on the roof of the Hermes cabin, and slingshotted them into the masses Just Because™️

(Will’s hair was blue and pink for weeks)

RAINBOW WAR PAINT FOR CAPTURE THE FLAG.

Clarisse fucking kicked someone into the lake because they made fun of one of her siblings’ dyed hair

Connor thought it would be funny to leave a mini pan flag on top of Mr. D’s Diet Coke stash, mostly as a harmless joke, but the next day he noticed Mr. D had tucked it into his horrible Hawaiian shirt pocket like a handkerchief😭

watching Love, Simon in the amphitheater for movie night and half the campers had to excuse themselves early for sobbing too hard

Malcolm and Annabeth reread Red White and Royal Blue every summer. They say they’re Henry and June, Connor is Alex, and Percy is Nora

(this is confirmed when the two of them start a foot fight in the dining pavilion with a Chipotle burrito)

Leo IMing Jo and Emmie to wish them a happy pride (and tell Georgina and Waystation I said hello)

Piper and Leo getting into a HEATED debate about whether Velma Dinkley is a lesbian or not

”YOU CANNOT LOOK AT HER OVERSIZED-SWEATER-OVER-MY-PROM-DRESS ASS AND TELL ME YOU THINK SHE’S TOTALLY STRAIGHT—“

”WHAT SHE AND SHAGGY HAD WAS REAL, BEAUTY QUEEN! HOT DOG WATER AIN’T GOT NOTHIN ON NORVILLE ROGERS—“

”LEO! HER NAME IS MARCIE! AND THEY ARE EACH OTHER’S W A L L P A P E R S .”

Jason, sitting in the middle of them, now deaf in both ears: Lupa give me strength

GUYS PLEASE SEND ME SPECIFIC SHIPS OR CHARACTERS TO WRITE PRIDE HC’S FOR I WOULD LOVE TO🙏🙏🙏🙏

504 notes · View notes

serpentface · 2 months ago

Text

GUARDIAN LIONS

An Odomache guardian lion cult statue (alabaster with gold plating and inlaid pearl and lapis lazuli), of the curved-reposed maned lioness variant.

Guardian lions are a Wardi architectural/artistic motif that confers protective benefits to the buildings or utilitarian objects on which they are placed. The practice of artworks depicting lions as place-guardians long predates the Faith of the Seven Faced God, and has been translated into contemporary practice as aspects of the Face Odomache.

This Face has core functions as a representation of sovereignty and military might, but additionally is interpreted as both a protective patriarch and nurturing mother to Its people. Lions represent this function well, as a powerful and venerated animal capable of both tremendous ferocity and gentleness (these functions combined in their renowned fierce protection of their own cubs).

Guardian lions come in three distinct sex variants, which impart different meanings.

Male guardian lions most typically are used to represent the Patriarch Odomache, the Face as a divine father that watches over the collective household of Its people. This iconography is most common in architectural guardian lions placed upon homes, as a representative of the father's intended function as the protector and arbiter of his family. They effectively 'guard' the culturally important private familial sphere, with their presence being a reminder to potential trespassers (literal and figurative) that retribution will be severe.

Maneless guardian lionesses are used to represent Odomache as a protector of pregnant women and children, in a form that suggests both an underlying ferocity and a feminine ideal of gentle nurturing. These are less common than the other variants, and mostly appear on smaller art and ritual objects used in conjunction with pregnancy and childrearing. Their most prominent core use is being a standard decoration on the carved ox horns used by midwives to bear oil (anointed upon mothers and newborns) and to pass over women in labor for spiritual protection. They're also common as small art objects or toys for babies and young children.

Maned guardian lionesses express a totality of these functions. Core depictions of the Face Odomache usually use a maned lioness, with the androgyny unifying Its functions as the Patriarch and the nurturing mother into a protective guardian mother to the collective people. These depictions have ubiquitous uses (the only context you Rarely see them in are as household guardians), and are the typical variant seen in important public spaces, and standard as cult statues to Odomache.

The guardian lion is a very old motif with regional variants, and comes in a variety of stylistic forms. There is very little standardization to the style (with some standardized elements only just beginning to develop in cult objects in recent history). However, there are very well-established conventions for the lion's posture that often distinguishes these guardian figures from non-functional, generic lion art, and imply more specified meanings.

STANDARD POSTURES:

Nursing lioness:

Glazed pottery nursing lioness. This is a decorative art object with guardian functions, likely to be placed near a child's bed.

The lion is at rest, belly turned out to the side to expose teats (occasionally accompanied by suckling cubs). Some unique variants are partially anthropomorphized, placing humanoid breasts in the chest area (rather than the more typical anatomically accurate teats). The posture is relaxed but alert, and will be positioned so that the face looks upon the point of approach. This pose is almost exclusively used for guardian lions as protectors for children, displaying a fierce animal mother figure in an entirely gentle, nurturing form.

Reposed:

Unpainted stone statue of a reposed male lion.

The lion is at rest. There is little active threat in its pose, instead invoking a relaxed, self-assured guardian. This motif appears often in non location-specific decoration or general public spaces.

Curved reposed:

Sketch of the curved-reposed alabaster maned lioness as seen from above, as it would appear in a temple shrine. A bowl is placed for libations, a tray for small offerings of flowers and grain.

The lion is at rest, with its front positioned to confront the viewer while the length of its body is simultaneously visible. It is a relaxed pose in a resting position, but the body's contortion makes it more confrontational towards onlookers, suggesting that a cautious and humble approach is necessary. This is most common in cult statues (where offerings will be placed along the length of its body).

Seated:

Seated Loberan house statue guardian, painted stone.

The lion is seated on its haunches, suggesting watchful alertness and an implied threat, but that the animal is secure in its strength and at rest. This type is the most common as an architectural feature for homes, representing patriarchal guardianship of the family and the domestic sphere within. This pose is almost always male, with very occasional maned lioness variants.

Standing/Striding:

Painted marble statue showing a standing/striding maned lioness. The statue is three dimensional with its sides carved in high relief; the pose will appear to be static when viewed from the front, and is mid-stride from the sides. The tail between the legs is unusual for a guardian lion motif and its placement is entirely due to the physical restrictions of this statue's form.

The lion is standing at attention or depicted mid-stride (often both simultaneously), suggesting readiness to strike. This confers a sense active protection and intimidation, and most often appears flanking the entrance in high status public spaces like temples and palaces. As a person approaches a standing+striding variant, they are greeted with a static front staring them down, and the lion appears to walk as they pass, suggesting they have entered an important space being guarded with high alertness- they can feel safe under its active protection (or know that it can and will (figuratively) come after them if they are a trespasser).

Conquering:

An oil lamp depicting a conquering maned lioness. The trampled figure's nudity in this context codifies him as a 'barbarian', while the artificially lengthened skull and long beard distinctly identifies him as a Finn king. This is a piece in the ancient artistic tradition known as 'seething and coping'.

The guardian lion stands over and/or actively tramples a prone form, usually human. It shows the conclusion of the guardian lion's function- the defeat and subduing of a threatening enemy. This enemy figure will often be expressed as a generic 'barbarian' (usually coded via nudity) or representing a specific population by depicting recognizable (real or imagined) practices of dress and adornment. Animals sometimes appear as 'enemies' instead, which can vary depending on the purpose- a dog (generally disliked animal) casts the enemy figure as pathetic and easily destroyed, a king hyena or crocodile (respected/feared large predators) casts the enemy as powerful but overcome by greater might.

This motif most often occurs in art used in state/military contexts (where it quite literally shows an embodiment of the state trampling a foreign enemy to death), but is used in everyday objects as well. The 'enemy' figure (whether a human caricature or an animal) can represent any number of threats perceived by an everyday person - bad luck, curses, a hated neighbor, thieves, livestock predators - and conveys a guardian spirit overcoming these threats.

#imperial wardin

357 notes · View notes

shirakow · 9 months ago

Text

˗ˏˋ꒰ synopsis ꒱ ; you accidentally summoned a demon , and he can't leave without doing something for you: either kill someone, or... Fuck you.

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍇 pair ⋅ ˚✮ ; Devil!Rody Lamoree x FTM!Reader .

. . . words ; 3.5k+

EXTRA ! porn with plot , also request box is open for people who want more studio investigrave related fics !

Summoning demons wasn't really in your bucket list for this year, but somehow, you were pushed to the breaking point. You never thought they'd go this far for an april fools prank.

Sure you've always known they held a small hate for you—actually, small was a bit of an understatement but it's whatever, your anger was far deeper than the dislike they had for you anyway—but you never thought they'd decide to bring you to an abandoned warehouse, topped with a summoning circle drawn on the ground with what you hoped was ketchup, and proceeded to leave.

You never took them for the cultist types, then again, they always did sacrifice you on multiple occasions (those sacrifices being leaving you to take the blame while they ran from the cops for trespassing on private property and a bunch of other things).

A sigh escaped past your lips as you recalled all the times they've done you wrong, and decided that once you're out of this place, you're dropping them for good. "I'm going home." You whispered as you stared at the red pentagram on the dirty cement floor, decorated with a lit candle on each end of the star. You then proceeded to turn around and jumped out of your skin when a rat appeared in front of you.

You gasped and stumbled backwards, only to trip over a stick that was conveniently placed right behind your heel, and fell back on the ground; laying inside the pentagram your friends had drawn. A loud groan erupted from your throat as you tried to scramble away from the rat—which had long since disappeared—and accidentally cut yourself on the broken cement.

With a hiss, you looked at your finger and watched as a trickle of blood dripped down onto the floor. You sighed and wiped it away on your shirt while you stood up, "Fuck this, fuck them—" you were gonna run to their house, and slap every single one of their fucking faces.

As the thought passed through your head, a sudden gust of wind blew through you, and the once lit candles were put out. You paused and looked around you with unease. It was creepy enough that you were alone in an abandoned building, but to have a large gust of wind blow through your body in a confined space was even creepier. You gulped thickly and backed away, trying to reach for your phone in your pocket when you suddenly felt something breathing down your neck.

Your eyes widened, and your body immediately shut down. Not even a few seconds later, a loud growl eminated from the creature behind you, and then a whisper, "... You gonna move off my foot or what?" You practically screamed and instinctively ran forward— and let me tell you, it was a real bad idea, because you Immediately hit a wall.

The creature—which you assumed was a demon or a squatter or a fucking werewolf—whistled as it watched you fall back on the ground. "That's gotta hurt..." You groaned and covered your face, "No shit it hurt!" You yelled at it, and reached for your phone in your pocket and turned the flashlight on.

Only to be faced with a tan man with hair a dirty orange, and curious green eyes that stared down at you while you kept laying on the floor. You dropped your phone on your face in shock. But the one thing that stood out about him were the pair of black horns that sat on his head. "You've gotta stop doing that."

"What? Is being scared a weird reaction now, dipshit?!" You yelled as you rubbed your nose. The demon raised his hands in a surrendering motion, "Says the human who summoned me." He defended himself in a nonchalant demeanor. You sat up and scrunched your face at him, "I did not summon you. I didn't even think the pentagram worked."

"It's a pentagram, how would it not work." He rose a brow while his tail swung around, "It's not like it was made of ketchup or anything." You couldn't bring yourself to tell him that you did think it was made out of ketchup. He'd probably laugh at you. Instead, you eyed him up and down with the light you had, before you spoke, "So... You gonna grant me three wishes or something?"

"I'm a demon, not a genie. The only three things I can give you is my name, age, and occupation." He murmured blankly, "So how 'bout it? I need to get paid too."

"Then give me those three things." You replied, "My name's Rody, I'm 382 years old, I think. I stopped counting after 380, and obviously I'm a demon." Rody introduced himself with a smile, almost a purr to his voice as he did. "Cool. You can go away now." You said as you shooed him away and tried to walk off, only to be stopped when he pulled you back by your shirt.

"Wait no—you can't just leave!" Rody said with what appeared to be a small pout, "Demons like me just can't go away without fulfilling a certain job for the human who summoned them. So it's either you ask me to kill someone for you, or..." He trailed off and blushed at the thought. "... You use me for your own p-pleasure..."

You stared at him blankly as he fumbled with his black vest, "What are you? Some teenage boy?" he took offense to this and immediately shook his head, "I am not a teenage boy!"

"And I am not asking you to do any of that." You mumbled and tried to walk away again, "Just lie and say you did one of the two—" "—well I can't! You know they're always watching me!"

Rody was practically begging as he clung to you. He sure was putting the title of a demon to shame. "I'm not lying to you, I swear. As much as I don't want to be here..." Rody trailed off, like even he didn't believe his last words. "Well, it's been a while since I've been out in the field so it was kinda lonely waiting in my apartment but that's besides the point!" He ranted unintentionally, before he shook his head.

Rody noticed the way you stared at him, and he cleared his throat to compose himself. "Just, ask me for anything." He said more seriously as he let you go.

You thought about it, and sighed. "Fine. But I'm not asking you to kill anyone." You murmured and looked down at the floor. As tempting as it sounds, you weren't gonna just tell him to kill your friends. It was silent, as if Rody was waiting for you to initiate something. At least he was willing to wait for your move.

You then got an idea, "Do demons like blood?" You asked him, looking back up into his green eyes. Rody rose a brow before he nodded, "I guess, especially if it's their summoners blood." He whispered, not sure where this is going. "Do they go insane with just a simple whiff?" You questioned once more, and before he could even get an answer out, you rose your sliced finger in front of his face.

Rody's eyes widened, "W-What are you doing?" He hesitantly asked as he split glances between your finger and your face. "What does it look like I'm doing? How long has it been since you've tasted human blood?" A red glint flashed over Rody's eyes as he leant forward, and took your wrist into his calloused hands. "... Too long..." He whispered and gently kissed your skin, before licking the blood with a groan.

"... I feel so dirty... Licking your dried up blood like this..." Rody gazed back down at you with lidded eyes, "I'm not that much of a savage." He muttered as he kissed your lips. His hands immediately finding their way onto your hips and he pulled your body closer to his bigger one, "You don't mind I just..." Rody whispered against the kiss, using his sharp canines to bite down onto your bottom lip—enough to draw blood as he closed his mouth on the wound and sucked on the red liquid.

You hissed at the slight pain that he inflicted onto you. Noticing your reaction, Rody pulled away and pecked your bruised lip, "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it..." He whined and kissed down your chin, "Forgive me?" Rody's hands traveled under your shirt to caress your skin underneath. You gasped, feeling the rough pads of his fingers rubbing your hardening nipples. Rody trailed his lips down to the side of your neck, gently nibbling on the skin.

You felt yourself get pushed back against the wall while his knee moved to go in between your legs. Rody pressed himself closer to you, letting his thigh rub against your core. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle with you..." He cooed into your ear, "Pretty boy..." Rody praised as he suddenly pinched your nipples. You bit your bottom lip to stifle your moans, too embarrassed to let anything out.

But Rody wasn't having any of it. "Let me hear you." He said blankly, and before you knew it, his hand was inside your pants, already thumbing at your engorged clit. "Come on, pretty boy... I'll make you feel so good... Just let me hear your voice..." Rody encouraged you in his velvety smooth voice.

You threw your head back as an unexpected moan slipped past your lips, and a grin spread across Rody's face. "Atta boy, keep going." He removed his hand away from your chest and started to undo your pants, pulling them down to pool on your feet along with your underwear.

Rody took his time to admire you and your sopping cunt that was just begging for his attention. With a quick lick to his lips, he sunk down to his knees in front of you, and placed both his hands onto your thighs to keep them open for him. "Haven't tasted a sweet thing like this in a while..." He whispered in awe, "300 years ago, I'm guessing?" You quipped with a breathless chuckle.

Rody furrowed his brows and slapped your pussy, which made you whine, "If you're mouth's able to retort, then I'm guessing it can moan too." He grumbled as he then buried his face into your cunt. Your eyes widened, immediately reaching down to grab a fistful of his hair as he licked a stripe up your vulva.

You felt Rody close his lips around your throbbing clit harshly sucking and licking it. Your thighs shook, begging to close and push Rody away from the stimulation, but his strong hold prevented that. Rody placed his knee on your pants— the only thing that served as restraints for your ankles— and removed his hand from your thigh to gently tease your hole by circling around it with his fingers.

You whined, practically begging him to push it in, and when he did, a loud moan erupted from your kiss swollen lips. Rody chuckled against your heat, and sucked on your clit, the sounds of your wetness against his tongue making you cringe. Rody pumped his fingers in and out your pussy, curling and hitting all the right places in just the perfect angle.

Rody inserted another finger, his thick digits rubbing your gummy walls as he harshly finger fucked your pussy. "So lewd...~ Your pussies so wet, it's practically dripping down my hand..." He teased, and pulled his mouth away from your clit, instead using his other hand to swish his fingers side to side on the engorged bud. The sensation made you squeal, desperately trying to close your thighs around his hands but he stopped you.

"Whoa there, keep them open." Rody furrowed his briws and fingered your pussy faster. Tears rolled down your cheek from the pleasure, a small whimper sounding from you as you pulled Rody closer to your cunt. Without a second thought, Rody went back to licking your clit, wanting to overstimulate your senses until all that was left of you is a crying and moaning mess.

He thrusted his fingers even quicker at this, "Look at you... I haven't even fucked you yet and you're already crying..." He cooed, his hands tightening around your thigh as he licked his lips. You blushed at his words and immediately covered your mouth, getting too flustered by his teasing. You were getting so close, and it was driving you insane—a heat started to pool at the pit of your stomach, stating your impending release.

Rody grunted and suddenly pulled his fingers out—slapping your clit harshly. Your eyes widened as you let out a slutty moan, and before you knew it, you squirted all over him. Your thighs shook from how hard you came, your whole body turning to putty in his hold as more tears escaped from your eyes. With a cry, you glanced back down at Rody, only to see him staring up at you with the same shocked expresson on his face.

"Did you just cum from having your pussy slapped?" He asked, a small grin forming on his face. You sniffled and looked away in embarrassment, "N-No..." Rody chuckled and leant forward to kiss your cunt softly as a small apology for slapping it, "It was kinda hot, don't worry sweet boy." He praised and rose to his feet.

"Think you're ready for me?" Rody asked as he kissed your lips gently. You gave him a slow nod, and he smiled, "Alright." He undid his pants and belt, along with his underwear and let them pool on his feet. Rody was now half naked in front of you, his impressive size standing tall. It was probably the biggest cock you've ever seen. Probably the only cock you've ever seen, rather.

He placed his hands under your thighs and lifted you off the ground. Making sure to let your pants and shoes fall to the floor first so that you could wrap your legs around his waist, "Just tell me if it hurts and I'll stop, okay?" Rody reassured you, and your eyes widened. You placed a hand on his chest, "W-Wait, that's it? You're just going in with no protection?"

He paused and stared at you blankly, "Babe, I'm a demon, not a prostitute. I didn't know I was gonna end up fucking someone today, of course I don't have a condom." Rody said in a monotone voice, as if it was already common sense. "If you're that worried, I can pull out... Don't worry." He whispered and pecked your lips.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and gulped, "O-Okay..." You nodded. Rody positioned himself against your hole, rubbing the tip against the lips and smeared the precum all over your pussy. "Fuck, you're even wetter than before..." He chuckled and gently pushed the head of his cock in.

Your hissed at the stretch, immediately tightening around Rody when he pushed more of his length in. "S-Shit, don't tighten so much! I-I can't even go any further...!" Rody panted, closing his eyes at the warmth that wrapped around his weeping dick. "Just... Breathe for me, okay?" He massaged your ass, waiting for you to relax so that he could bottom out inside you, but for now, he remained unmoving.

You steadied your breathing, holding onto him tightly, and slowly nodded. Rody took this as a sign to keep going. He noticed he wasn't even halfway in, before he decided to just fuck it—and suddenly pushed himself in fully in one go. You gasped and cried, tears forming at the corners of your eyes at the pain and pleasure that pooled at the pit of your stomach.

Rody moaned into your neck, rubbing your thighs to soothe the pain. "Fuck... I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry sweet boy... It's just that, I couldn't take it... I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you..." He kissed all over your shoulder, and slid a hand over to rub your clit in order to distract you from the pain.

You could only scratch at his back as your toes curled, "You're doing so good..." Rody whispered praises into your ear, waiting for you to adjust to his size. It was the least he could do for bottoming out harshly.

After a while, you gave Rody a nod. He put his hand back under your thigh, and slowly pulled out until only the tip was left inside, before pushing back in gently. A shudder ran down your spine at the pleasure that spread through your body.

Once he saw your positive reaction, Rody kept going at the pace he set; slow and steady. You gripped onto Rody tighter, strings of moans falling from your tongue as he kept thrusting. One particular thrust hit your g-spot head on, and Rody adjusted his angle so that he could hit it everytime. "You're so tight... So perfect for my cock..." He grunted into your ear, gripping your thighs tighter as he pulled all the way out and gave a harsh thrust into your sopping pussy.

You threw your head back and cried, tears rolling down your flushed cheeks. Rody's wings flexed behind him at the pleasure, his own moans and groans stringing out from his mouth. "S-Shit...! N-Need to change your position..." Rody suddenly pulled out your heat, and put your feet down the ground. He turnt you around, and pulled your ass back against him and positioned himself once more, before he thrusted all the way in and continued his harsh thrusts.

Your tongue lolled out as you clawed at the walls. "R-Rody...!~" You squealed and looked down at your stomach, seeing a visible bump that formed whenever he thrusted into your tight cunt. Your eyes grew cloudy from the tears, and you reached down to press on the bump, finding pleasure in knowing he was so deep inside you.

You heard Rody laugh from behind you, "What? You like how I'm so deep inside your pussy?" He asked as he spanked you which made you sob, "Fuck, I love this pretty hole of yours..." Rody groaned and fucked you faster. He leant forward, pressing his chest against your back as he kissed your shoulder. Rody reached down and started rubbing your clit in timed with his thrusts, which caused you to shriek and shake your head. "N-No..! It's too much...!" You cried and babbled, your head turning into mush the more he fucked you stupid.

Rody pulled and rubbed your clit faster at your words, "You're close... Right? I'm close too..." He groaned, whimpering as he reached out to place his hand over your own against the wall. You panted like a bitch in heat, and sobbed, "R-Rody... C-Cum in me...! Please!~" You begged, unable to think straight anymore from the way Rody was bullying his cock into your cunt.

You were reduced into nothing but a toy for Rody's pleasure. Rody's eyes widened at this, and his thrusts faltered for a second, but you shook your head and let out strings of insistent 'no's. "P-Please keep going, keep going...!~" You pleaded. He was hesitant, but the way you were looking and begging... It was too much.

Rody groaned and pulled back, pushing your cheek against the wall with his hand, and fucked your cunt faster. His balls slapping against your pretty pussy lips, "You asked for this... Not me...!" He moaned loudly, feeling himself come closer to the edge.

Rody's thrusts grew more desperate and sloppy, before he gave one last thrust, and came inside you. You came right after him—squirting all over his fat cock. You drooled all over the wall as you closed your eyes from how hard you came. Rody panted and chuckled breathlessly as he stared at you, "You did so good..." He whispered and turned your head so that he could kiss you.

You tiredly reciprocated, whining when you felt your shared release dripping down your thighs. Rody pulled away and rubbed your sides, "You'll give me a five star

review right?" He grinned. You rolled your eyes and pushed his face away, "Is there even an app for this shit?" He pouted and nodded.

"Yeah, there is. It's called deviliscious."

"You're lying."

"Okay, yeah, I am."

"Just pull out you asshole."

@ shirakow ; Reblogs are always appreciated <3 it's like 5 am as I'm editing this and I haven't gotten any sleep .

ㅤ

#rody x male reader #rody x reader #rody lamoree #rody #dead plate #dead plate rody lamoree #dead plate x reader #dead plate x male reader #dead plate rody x reader #ftm reader #male reader #x ftm reader #rody x ftm reader #rody lamoree x ftm reader #devil rody lamoree #devil rody x reader #. . . 𝘀𝗵𝗶.𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 ?

703 notes · View notes

flokali · 10 months ago

Note

I just want to touch zhonglis horns or tail. Like they are so pretty

a/n: me too anon, me too ><

I love the image of a relaxed Zhongli who, after much coaxing from your part, allows a small pair of horns to adorn the top of his head. Well, it’s less that it’s small and more so that he’s big enough that almost anything that isn’t comically large looks small near him.

They look similar to Azhdaha’s horns in colour, earthy tones that make them look like Geo formations sitting atop their heads. However, Zhongli’s look just a tad bit neater, as if a gifted craftsman had taken the time to carve and polish them — which, may be possible considering how particular the former archon has become in regards to his appearance ever since your arrival.

His horns blend in their base with his hair, a dark brown colour that fades into a colour that looks akin to polished Cor Lapis. They sit comfortably atop his hair, curling upwards until the very tip where they finally look down. Long, thick vein-like carvings decorate them, their pattern looking much like the ones found in his pillars.

Whenever he uses his Geo element, which he rarely does whenever he allows himself to show his more draconian features, said carvings are filled up with elemental energy that glows a golden colour, instances in which they look much like rivers of gold flowing through him.

They’d probably be cold, at least whenever he’s not using any elemental energy, in which case they seemingly hum a soft warmth. But it never burns hot or freezingly cold, on the instances where you glide the pad of your finger through the, surprisingly, smooth surface it feels pleasant. Like an ointment that leaves your skin tingling, they seemingly buzz with energy native to Teyvat.

I also like to think that, when allowing more… draconic features of his to shine, Zhongli’s arms look similar to his Rex Lapis days. Back then, his arms were deep in colour with golden markings glowing - much like his horns, I’d think. Unlike before, the colour doesn’t seep into his neck, instead neatly ending near his shoulders and fading back into his human form’s flesh. But it’s just as striking, they almost look like gloves, but when you touch them they still feel like skin — the golden etchings in them, however, would probably feel more calloused, like scar tissue. In these instances, his arms run cold, much like stone. It’s only near the golden tissue that a semblance of warmth is found. During particularly hot summer days, they work wonders in keeping the heat away.

A tail… for some reason, I feel like he’d be extremely hesitant in showing it off. Only during private hours with you, where he’ll be absolutely certain no one other than yourself will see, will he show you. When he does, you notice how slim it is — only growing in size by the end, where it resembles a cloud. It’s essentially the same tail he possesses as Morax, where the end is filled with explosive colours that make it look like pure Geo energy materialising into the air.

Like any dragon, his tail is made out of scales - however his are surprisingly smooth, they blend into each other creating the illusion of there being no scales at all. They’re still sturdy, however, you’re pretty sure no weapon in existence could cut through them. His tail’s end… I think it’d be fur, long hairs combed into their position mimicking the clouds above Liyue Harbor during sunsets, unlike the rest of his body, I think it’d be surprisingly soft and, forgive my blasphemy, fluffy.

In these instances where he allows himself to be more vulnerable, showing bits and pieces of his most prominent and powerful forms, he grows to love your affection.

He loves it just as much when you comb his long, silken hair as when you detangle his tail. The feeling of your nails tracing the hundreds of scales that protect his tail make a shiver run down his spine, one that pleasures him as much as takes him by surprise every time.

Zhongli is rather secretive about his previous roles in life, which means that he has to trust you quite a lot to willingly expose traits of his that once belonged to the lives he once lived, which is why he’s so keen on keeping these attributes of his known only to the two of you.

If he so much as senses anybody coming near the room, his horns and tail quickly disappear - much to your disappointment. If anybody, much less someone like Venti, where to catch even so much as a glimpse of his more draconian features, you might need to physically restrain him lest he send them home with multiple injuries. It comes to a point where he mostly only cares about keeping a secret only between you and himself, rather than keeping his identity secret.

It’s why he treasures the soft moments where you lay in bed together, his head resting against your chest as you softly rub his horns with gentle motions. His ears are sharp, the beating of your heart is loud and clear to Zhongli, but it’s not bothersome at all — instead, it’s soothing to him, like the sound of soft rain against a window would be to some or waves softly crashing down into the sand. You’re too sleepy to notice, the warmth radiating from the man on top of you was simply too comfortable for you to resist the temptation of slumber, the soft purring that rumbled from his chest.

That was yet another feature of his you’d soon familiarise yourself with though, he still wanted to keep a few cards up his sleeve in case he felt you were drifting too far away from his embrace.

#๋࣭ ancient scrolls #๋࣭. hidden devotee #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #genshin impact x reader #yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #Genshin zhongli x reader #soft yandere zhongli #soft sagau #<- mostly written with the au in mind it #*ig #soft zhongli #Genshin x reader #sub zhongli #zhongli genshin impact

874 notes · View notes

ladythornofrivia · 9 months ago

Text

🍒 The Devil’s Tongue 🍒

Michael Gavey x Reader (PART ONE)

summary: you transferred into Oxford after moving out from your country for a better change, and unexpectedly meeting Michael Gavey in a quiet library, leads to something more.

warnings: creepy vibes from michael gavey, reader being oblivious, stalking, michael being horny, p in v sex, loss of virginity, jealousy, misunderstandings, obsession, belt kink, panty kink, scent kink, voice kink, breeding kink, michael gavey being a smartass, michael gavey is horny for math, michael gavey is a smartass, clueless reader, nerdy yet hot michael, lust at first sight, sex in the library, sex on the table, kitchen sex, oral sex, cam girl, fingering, sex during tutoring session, reader teasing, reader being a dominatrix in bed, food porn.

a/n: i forgot to review the movie saltburn last year, so I’ll give it a short review. Saltburn is a weird movie, but i watched it because of Ewan Mitchell. While ewan mitchell is 10/10, saltburn is 7/10, because of the bathtub scene and the grave scene. the only thing that’s good is the cinematography, music and ewan mitchell. i wish there’s more scenes from him. yes, i keep saying his name! he’s so fucking hot as a nerd. this one shot will be long.

You like cherries.

There’s something mysterious and tempting about the roundish and reddish fruits. Cherries are sweet, and it’s dark-reddish color brought an appeal to your appetite and. Appeal that also changes your view in fashion.

And as hot as the Devil’s tongue.

Red symbolized lust.

Sinful, they proclaimed.

So does your pussy, when you splayed across the bed, watched as Michael entered and his face bewildered when you splayed naked in bed with thick whip cream smothered on your tits, waist, and your pussy decorated in whip cream swirled with cherry on top.

"Hi, baby. I've been waiting for you," you said as your legs spread, thick of whip cream and candied cherry cascaded slowly.

***

A Year Ago…

Your parents and your attention seeking relatives are no good. Red is as sin as lust—the devil’s skin, the devil’s horn.

Other than black and pink, you like the dark-cherry color. All your aesthetics are cherry red—well, the undertones to match your little room at your small house belongs to your parents.

Them and their sinless views of the world has sickened to your stomach. You don’t want to be like your hypocritical, martyr parents for the rest of your life, so you applied for the university at Oxford and Northamptonshire. You got accepted to the university. Despite being a young woman, you managed to prove them wrong.

And sever ties with them to go at the University of Oxford, where you encounter numerous people. You’ve done research to get things right—not to be frigid or superficially pretentious; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself on the spot if you chose to be ignorant.

One thing that no one else knows of you, is that you moonlight as a dominatrix on a live stream. Every night, you broadcast online to pleasure yourself—that’s how you got money to bail from a strict and hypocritical religious household.

Few of the students looked at your direction, giving a side-eye. You overheard them calling you a prostitute, but you couldn’t care less. Dress to impress for yourself. You mostly wore bike leather jacket, a tank top, mini skirt and a chunky dark-cherry red boots with light make up, but the lipstick is glossy dark red—and not the irritable, sticky kind.

Your long locks tossed at the side, already at your assigned room, but you shut the windows completely. You don’t want to reveal the private side of your internet sensation. After closing the curtains, you’re off to the hall, where people gathered and talk, mainly about drama and parties.

You hadn’t known one. But you had party to yourself of gaining source of income from self-pleasure.

There you sat down, and overheard someone at your left. Afar, you saw a young man named Oliver Quick and another guy with nerdy glasses.

Michael Gavey.

“Fuckin’ ask me a sum then!” The chatter dimmed when a young man shouted about math.

No one really likes as the guy with the nerdy glasses does. But he does look cute when he’s fuming.

Maybe he’s sexually frustrated. All it needs is I need to work on a poor guy. Poor guy is so frustrated—a no man island himself, like Oliver Quick.

You could tell. So you chimed in.

“What’s the square root of 69”

Both boys turned to look at you.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Oliver inquired, perplexed.

“Oh, just a curious person asking him a question,” you said, jerking your head towards the blond and cutely frustrated boy.

“8.30662386292,” is all the blond uttered.

Your lips tugged into a smirk, and left.

Interesting, now I have a new kink to look forward to for my next kinky session.

***

It’s quite luxurious for a library—grand yet old like wines in the cellar. You studied Political Science and Art, and while you studied and sometimes drawing, but a certain snack bar caught your eye; it was placed above your drawing.

“I got you a crunchie,” a voice said. You turned and saw Michael Gavey.

“Oh, um, thanks?”

“I have never seen you before,” he noted.

“Really? So do I.”

“As a matter of fact, you have disrupted us during our friendly conversation.”

Oliver Quick was anything but friendly and comfortable.

“Okay and?”

He quirked a brow. “Your attitude is unusual.”

“Well, where I came from, it’s not really an issue. I’m a straight forward kind of gal,” you explained.

Michael hummed, staring at you.

“Pardon my rudeness. I’m Michael Gavey.” His hand stretched out. “I never get your name.

“I’m (Y/N) (L/N).” You offered a handshake in return.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from America.”

“Ah, yes. The land of freedom,” he commented, trying to make you laugh.

You laughed awkwardly. You have never smiled or laughed before—in a non-superficial way. You laughed and smiled during as a cam girl, but other than that, you never smile genuinely.

Somehow it caught his eye. His glasses beamed that you could see the color of his hues.

“An awkward foreign girl.”

“Yeah, so? I’m not really a people-person.”

“Why did you come here, then? For a good fuck?”

Ghastly, you turned around to see if anyone catches his words, but nobody pays attention.

“Are you going to the party?”

“What party?”

“The party Felix and his friends are heading tonight.”

“Who the hell is Felix?”

Michael darted his eyes behind you, and followed the sign; Felix and Farleigh sat at the back between the shelves.

“Apparently, he’s hosting a party tonight. NFI, me and you. Not Fucking Invited.”

“Well, I don’t a fuck about parties that much.”

Michael tsked. “That’s a very strong language.”

“Says the guy who says NFI. Besides, I don’t like parties,” you said, and it wasn’t a half lie. You have an upcoming camgirl session tonight.

“A shame,” Michael said, then reaching for the crunchie.

You have never tried snacks from another culture.

“Is it good?” you asked him.

He ripped the snack bar open, and gave you a piece. “Try it and see for yourself.”

And you did.

It was worth it.

Nevermind how Michael watched you in fascination.

***

The roofs and walls of University has been but a sham; it was real quiet.

Too quiet.

You hated quiet rooms.

In your next session, your fingers swirled your swollen clit, thinking of Michael Gavey’s rosy lips and tongue licking and nibbling your wet cunt and a tight hole.

You never fucked anybody, but you wanted your first time to be special. You rode on a dildo, trying not to moan so loud, but you come down high. The faster you moved, the more erotic images of a nerdy Michael seeping into you.

This is my kind of party.

***

Somewhere, in a darkened room, Michael Gavey’s hand filled with cum, and his other hand pressed the send button on his computer screen.

It was sensational to see.

You.

Who would’ve thought he met you—a famous camgirl.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how your eyes twinkled when you ate crunchie for the first time—far from the horniness and snobbish act you put up in public. It was a delight to see . With your outstanding getup and attitude, he knew that he’s in a right place.

Taglist: @toodlesxcuddles @kittendoll05 @omgsuperstarg @xcharlottemikaelsonx @paninisstuff @danika1994 @angeljcca @marvelescvpe @kukulyarva @namelesslosers @heavenly1927 @snh96 @fandom-maniac-anime @httpsmenace @velunis @nananeptune @domithebomi @moonseye @faesspace @tm-starr @xinthia19 @popsycles @halsteadstyles @lothiriel9 @liannafae @ammo23 @blackswxnn @buccini555 @watercolorskyy @taangie @qardasngan @justyelena @jolixtreesunn @runekisses @thought--bubble @remuslupinwife1 @evergreen9083 @foggypeacestarlight @dixie-elocin @galactict3a @momowhoo @saturnssrings @dani5216 @kimsubin05 @blackgaladriel @valeskafics @theboleyngirlx @elaratyrell @mylosz0

391 notes · View notes

jayaury · 4 months ago

Text

Marrying the Maid

More archive short stories. Get more on my P*treon. Enjoy! https://www.patreon.com/JayAury

---

Baron Lukas Instaf fell into his office chair with an audible groan.

Yes.

His office.

He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. To think, he would inherit the barony at a mere twenty years of age. It was quite a bit of pressure, he had to admit.

He found himself looking back at the imposing portrait hanging over the mantle of the fireplace. His father’s picture was of a grim, sullen man with dark hair and a face of hard, disapproving lines.

Lukas had inherited the man’s hair, if not his rough features. He was slimmer than his stocky father. Many said handsomer, and certainly younger. He flexed his hands on the arms of the chair uneasily and scanned the study. He didn’t much care for the decor. But that had always been his problem, as his father had frequently berated him. He was indecisive. Weak.

Well, Lukas had best start getting decisive. For this was his home now.

Well, mostly.

The door swung open with a bang. “Good morning master!”

He sat up sharply as a familiar figure bounced into the room. Clarissa, the family’s maid of two years, was a forceful personality in the house. She filled every room she stepped foot in with her presence and somewhat unconventional character. Lukas had no idea why his father had kept the boisterous redhead.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had a good idea. Two of them, actually. Clarissa was bustier than some holstaurs. In fact, there were rumours that she was one of those bovine maidens, but had filed down her horns. Lukas wasn’t sure how much he believed that, but he did know that she did attend that new cow goddess church that was making waves. And she was unbelievably brash and forceful for a servant. Not to mention teasing. He’d often been at the receiving end of her attentions, leaving him flustered and annoyed.

And she was wearing scent again, he noticed with a sigh. Honestly, it seemed like every day she wore a new kind of perfume. The current one was jasmine, and was shockingly potent. Well, at least it was better than the rosemary she used to wear around his father. In fact, it was almost… pleasant.

“Clarissa!” he sighed, forcing himself not to stare at the maid’s impressive bust. “You-”

“Here with your tea!” she said, sliding the tray into place before him with a wink of her long lashes. “Starting off the morning well, as the big, strong baron should!”

“Clarissa, really. You can’t just-”

“Not to worry, my baron! There’s plenty of cream. I know how much you like it,” she added, picking up a pitcher and pouring a generous helping into his cup. “And you’ll need it today! Because we have quite a bit of work to do.”

In the midst of tidying his papers, Lukas paused. “We do?”

“Of course, my lord! Now that you are baron, we must decide on your betrothed.”

“M-my what!”

“And I have them right here!” Clarissa chimed, lifting a folder out from some hidden recess of her scandalously short skirt (it had to be custom. No other maid in the estate had such a revealingly tight uniform). “Shall we take a look, my baron?”

“Wh… Hold on now, I can’t just-”

“My baron!” Clarissa cried in mock horror. “Surely you realize the importance in choosing your bride? The barony cannot be left without a mistress. Not only for the hard work running the estate, but also the vital work of carrying on the family line! Which means we must choose the most ample, breedable, lovely wife for you.”

“B-breedable? Clarissa! That is-”

“Not to worry, my baron. I’m sure you can manage that. Why, any woman would consider herself lucky to be bent over your table as you thrust home, stuffing her full of your droit de seigneur.”

Lukas’s face burned as it always did whenever Clarissa got going like this. Not to say she was wrong, unfortunately. She was absolutely right. He did need to get married, but it still seemed so early to be shopping for a bride. “Clarissa, really. I-”

“Early to start, my baron! We must be. Once word gets out that Baron Instaf is not only single, but such an adorable, impressive, handsome piece of stud meat, why, we’ll be besieged by eligible young ladies looking to have you mount them like a prized mare! And whichever does will be lucky to have you. Take my word for it!”

“Clarissa! This is… that sort of talk is hardly-”

“You’re so right, my baron. Here I am, chattering away, and you haven’t even gotten a chance to look at the choices! Let’s take a look at the candidates, shall we?”

Lukas sighed, finally giving up. It was near impossible to stop Clarissa once she set her mind to something, though by gods he would soon. He’d have to talk to the head butler about firing her. She treated him far too casually. But for now, he supposed the best thing was just to get this business with the portraits over with.

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s take a look…”

“How wise, my dear baron,” Clarissa chirped merrily as she opened the folder to the first page, propping it up just underneath her immense bosom.

Lukas cleared his throat, forcing himself to look at the portrait and not the impressive pair of breasts just above it. “And this is…”

“Mirria Mable. Daughter of a lord in the southern country. Quite the pick specimen. An attractive if air headed young thing. Pretty, but not terribly bright. And not nearly as endowed as me, hm?”

“Clarissa! That’s hardly appropriate,” Lukas said, though he had to admit it was true, and his eyes did quickly steal a glance at Clarissa’s chest as if just to make sure of that. Gods, the room felt suffocating in the perfume she wore. He should open a window, though the scent wasn’t unpleasant. In fact, it was a bit… soothing.

Clarissa giggled. “Very true, my baron. We cannot judge a woman less blessed than myself in that respect. Some of us were merely born with a generous bosom. Perfect to lay one’s head upon.”

Lukas rolled his eyes, but felt his cheeks warm at the thought. “I ah… Well, what about the others?”

“The others? Of course, my lord,” Clarissa said, turning the page, her chest bouncing as she did so.

The sight made Lukas realize quite suddenly his mouth was very dry. With haste, he picked up a teacup and took a sip. Mm. Normally he wasn’t a big fan of cream in his tea, but wherever Clarissa got hers, it was delicious.

“Now then,” Clarissa said. “Lady Blumen from the duchy of Clausen seems like a perfect match for you. Nearly as busty as I am, and I know how important that is for you, my baron.”

“Not that important…” he mumbled.

“Ho ho!” Clarissa laughed, the throaty mirth making her breasts bounce most distractingly in her tight top. “How droll you are, my baron! But I know how much you value an impressive pair of breasts. You can barely keep your eyes off mine!”

Lukas flushed again, realizing he had been staring at her chest. He hastily took another sip of tea. Gods, he was feeling a bit light headed. “I ah… What else is there about her?”

“Why, only that she is something of a black widow, my baron. A nasty piece of work. She delights in wedding rich men, then crushing them beneath her heel. Nitpicking them until they don’t dare breathe without her approval. And what a cruel thing, my baron! Why, she cannot understand true love. The love of a good husband willing to do anything for his darling wife. Adore you. Worship her! She’s only in it for the quick cash! No sense of adoring her new spouse like the good boy he is.”

“S-sorry. Good boy?” Lukas said.

Clarissa giggled, her long lashes fluttering again. “Oh yes, my baron. A husband must be assured what a good boy he is. What a good, obedient, lovey dovey dummy he is to his beloved wife. Otherwise, he might get the most silly ideas in his head.”

Lukas felt his cheeks redden at the degrading words, even if they weren’t addressed to him. And he found his eyes looking at Clarissa’s breasts again. Big and soft. The subtle heave as she breathed. Or rather, the not so subtle. Looked like she was as into the discussion as he was.

“Er, right. Sure,” Lukas said, taking another sip of tea, sinking back into his seat with a sigh. “So, not her.”

“Oh no, my baron. You deserve so much better. So much bustier! So much more loving and adoring. A sweet wife who would show you what a good boy you are. Who would let you adore her like the happy, dopey husband you were always meant to be.”

“Er, yes. Yes. But uh… Who is the next one?”

“Oh yes, my baron. That would be the Countess Francesca,” Clarissa said, turning the next page. “But she wouldn’t make an appropriate wife for you either my lord.”

“Hm?” Lukas said, taking another sip, barely paying attention as he watched Clarissa’s breasts bounce. “She wouldn’t? Why… why not?”

“Oh my baron! Why, she does not want children.”

“O-oh,” Lukas said as he took another long drink of his tea. “Yes, that might… might be a problem. Need an heir…”

“Oh no, my baron. Not just one.”

“S-sorry?”

Clarissa gave him a knowing look. “Why, my dear baron, your wife must bear you many children! A dozen at least. A dozen happy, lovely children. Your wife needs to be very eager to take your virile seed. Because I know, my dear baron, that you’re far too much a stud to be satisfied with just one child. That you would like nothing more than to breed your beloved wife at every opportunity. To make her breasts so big… so heavy… so creamy and soft that you can’t help but play with them and kiss them every night.”

Lukas stared at her breasts. Gods, he could imagine it. Imagine those breasts bouncing. Heaving. Wobbling and Clarissa positively glowing from… from…

But… but no. He… he needed to only think of… of his wife like that. Yes. Only his wife. His beloved wife, whoever… whoever it turned out to be.

“I uh…”

“Oh dear, my baron,” Clarissa sighed, closing the folder dramatically, crossing her arms beneath her jiggling bust. “This just won’t do! It seems like there isn’t a noble woman in the land who can satisfy all your needs. A woman so busty. So loving. So beautiful and fertile to satisfy your very high standards.”

“I… y-yes. No one…”

“Oh!” Clarissa suddenly said, brightening visibly. “But then, of course! How silly of me. I didn’t think of that at all! Why, you don’t need a noblewoman for your wife.”

“I… I don’t?” Lukas said, frowning a little, brow wrinkling in concentration. Didn’t he? He was under the impression that was important…

“Oh no, my beloved baron,” Clarissa cooed as she planted her hands on the table, climbing onto it and crawling towards him, pendulous breasts swaying teasingly, her eyes hot, molten with something that made Lukas’s pulse quicken and pound. “Not at all. Why, if the noble stock isn’t up to the standards, then we must simply find another who is. One who is capable of seeing the greatness in you. The handsomeness. The virile… powerful… studliness in you.”

Lukas found himself instinctively retreating, pressing into the back of his chair, watching his maid move towards him like a she-wolf on the hunt. “Wh-who?”

“Now that is the question, isn’t it, my baron,” Clarissa giggled, straightening so she was kneeling on the desk in front of him, her hands cupping her breasts, fondling and massaging them teasingly. “She’d have to know your domain inside and out. She’d have to have every servant in the house already under her thumb. She’d have to know the ways you love things done. She’d have to be so pretty… so clever… so very… very… busty that you just couldn’t say no to her. Every idea she had would just seem like the bestest idea ever. Oops! Did I say breastest?”

“D-did you?” Lukas said, fairly drooling as he watched her bounce and mold her breasts together.

“Maybe I should have, hmm?” Clarissa said. “Because I know how much my baron loves breasts. Big… bouncy… soft breasts. That’s why I know he’ll make the right choice. I know he’ll decide on exactly the right person to be his baroness. To be his loving wife. His devoted mistress. His gorgeous… bouncy… beautiful bride. But who, my baron? Who is busty and smart and beautiful enough for that.”

“Wh-who?” Lukas gasped.

“Think hard, my baron,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas tried to. He really did. But his mind just didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Every thought he had swirled and squished and bounced and wobbled like Clarissa’s breasts. He whimpered, biting his lower lip, trembling with need as his maid continued to massage her breasts, her buttons straining against her ample tit flesh until… until…

“Mmmm,” Clarissa moaned, tearing open the front of her uniform, her ample, pale breasts spilling into the open. Bouncing with heavy softness. Nipples dark accents to their creamy slopes.

Lukas gasped, jolting like from a physical blow as her breasts bounced free.

“Whoops!” Clarissa giggled. “Did I do that?”

“Y-you… you…” Lukas stammered.

Clarissa’s smile widened. “Me, my lord?” she said coyly. “You want me to be your gorgeous baroness?”

Lukas blinked blankly, his sloshing thoughts struggling. “I…”

“Well, it is true, my lord,” Clarissa cooed, her leg extending, foot pressing against his chest and pushing him and his chair back with a squeak. “I am so very smart. So very beautiful. So very…” she breathed, sliding off the desk, into his lap, Lukas groaning as her weight settled on the hardness of his tenting cock. “Very…” Clarissa moaned as she leaned forward, her ample titflesh pressing against his face. “...Busty…”

Lukas shuddered, inhaling, breathing in the heady scent of Clarissa’s breasts and body. A scent so potent and strong it made his toes curl. Sweet. Heavy and wonderful. Something so real. So potent. The jasmine stuffing his nose. Suffocating his thoughts. And with… with just a faint hint of cream…

“Oh, but whatever would society say,” Clarissa groaned, her hips rocking, rubbing herself upon his thick cock, making Lukas moan and pant under her as his cock throbbed with need. As her breasts squished his face between them and Clarissa’s weight ground him under her. “They might say such terrible things…”

“Ohhhh,” Lukas groaned.

“You’re so right, my baron,” Clarissa giggled. “True love overcomes all odds. And oh, but you do love me, my baron. You do love my big… soft… breasts. And I love you. Loved you so much I tried all sorts of alraune perfumes before I found the one that just. Makes. You. Melt.”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned as he inhaled deeply.

“And you love my wonderful, clever mind, don’t you?” Clarissa cooed as she gave her breasts a bounce, swirling his thoughts again to a lather. “So smart to think of buying that holstaur cream for your tea. So clever to know how malleable it makes a good boy. How needy and aroused by big breasts it makes him. How adoring and dumb. How needy and horny and obedient.

“But there is something bigger than my breasts, my baron,” Clarissa moaned as she squeezed her tits around his head. “Oh yes! Believe it. And that is my warm, adoring heart. Perfectly made for my darling baron. Utterly devoted to him. Because I know, my beloved baron, how haaaaard it is for you to think with me around. How distracted you get from a big… soft… pair of breasts. How hard it is for you to rule. You’re not suited for it, my lord. You’re just suited to be a lovey dovey bimbo. A perfect, obedient stud to your darling wife. And oh, my baron, do you really want me? Do you really need me?”

Lukas whimpered beneath his maid, his mind whirling. Drunk on lust and love and heavenly cream and her body. His hands trembled as they touched her, stroking her hips and rump. Touching her back and causing Clarissa to lean forward and bounce teasingly atop him, his chair creaking.

“Oh my baron. If you begged me, then, well, maybe,” Clarissa giggled. “If you told me how much you loved me, how much you need me, then maybe I’d believe you. Maybe I could be convinced to make you my adoring husband. My sweet, brainless stud of a man who’d do anything his busty wife said. Shall we try, my baron?”

“Mmmm,” Lukas moaned into her breasts.

“Let’s,” Clarissa crooned.

Lukas gasped as her breasts came off his face. He blinked dully as he found Clarissa smiling down at him, gaze smoldering and smirk hot with desire.

“I…” Lukas said.

“I want you, my baron,” Clarissa breathed. “Don’t you want me too?”

The note of hot passion in her tone dashed any effort of resistance from him. Lukas’s mouth trembled and he nodded, the truth escaping him in a panting gasp.

“Y-yes,” he said. “W-want you.”

“Do you, my baron?” Clarissa cooed as her hips rose, her hands teased down his chest and to his crotch, Lukas gasping as her fingers played with his bulge, undoing his zipper. “Do you want to fuck your beautiful bride? Propose to her and fuck her and breed her glorious pussy?”

“Y-yes!” Lukas whimpered, his cock springing into the open, a shock of pure ecstasy surging through him as her fingers wrapped around his length. “C-Clarissa, I… I…”

“Oh my baron,” Clarissa giggled, leaning in closer, her molten eyes hot, her rouged lips soft, enunciating every word as he felt his cock guided under the tickling hem of her skirt, brush the smooth skin of her inner thigh, drawn towards the heat of her naked pussy. “Just say… I do.”

“I… I… d-dooooo!” Lukas groaned, head falling back as Clarissa’s body eased down, his cock swallowed in the warm tightness of her pussy. His face buried again under the buxom softness of her ample tits.

“Mmmmm!” Clarissa moaned, her hips rocking, riding her atop his cock with slow, passionate motions that sent throbbing ecstasy radiating through his body and manhood. “Ohhhh my baaaaron! Yes! Yes! I will! I’ll be your baroness! I’ll be your gorgeous wife! Your perfect lover! Your loving, breedable bride. Ah. Ah! Oh goddess yes! Fuck me! Fill me with your cock!”

Lukas groaned beneath her, his lips kissing and licking her breasts, lost in the creamy valley of her tits, trapped in the ecstasy of her figure and the seemingly endless ampleness of her bouncy breasts. His cock throbbed in her, squeezed by her adoring inner walls. Heat consumed him. Pleasure subsumed him.

It was so good. So perfect. He couldn’t break free. Couldn’t resist. The need to cum surged within him. Devoured him. Urged him towards the inevitability of climax. He panted, gasping, moaning under her.

“Yes!” Clarissa gasped. “Oh my baron! Oh my husband! Yes! Fuck me! Fill me! Stuff me full of your cum! Ohhhhh my baron! I neeeed it! Need your mnnn! Your cum! Ah. Yes. Yes! Cum in me, Lukas. Cum in your bride! Fuck me! Breed me! Now! Breed me… nooooow!”

Her voice rose, a crescendo of shameless pleasure, her inner walls tightening, flexing, squeezing his cock with the glory of her peak. As her breasts shuddered around his head, Lukas cried out, surrendering to her pleasure, his cock throbbing, his balls tightening.

And he came.

Blessed release seemed to burst within him. Sear him. Devour him. His cock surrendered to her, filling her in sharp bursts of heady pleasure.

Lukas moaned, lost in her breasts. Lost in the pleasure. Floating in a sea of creamy ecstasy and delight, his mind sinking under waves of soft, bouncy bliss.

Atop him, Clarissa cooed, giggling as she felt him sag, lost beneath her breasts. Her arms wrapped around her new husband’s head, pulling him deeper into her bosom as she looked about the study. Ugh. Such depressing decoration. She’d have to get it cleaned out. And the room would make such a lovely nursery too.

She giggled, admiring the dazed expression of her former master as she smothered him beneath her breasts. She couldn’t wait for the wedding. Especially since she promised that holstaur priestess and her alraune friend they could be her bridesmaids. After all, when one was looking for a husband, one needed a foot in the door. And she just knew her beloved betrothed had some friends in need of busty, brainwashing brides.

Clarissa hummed contentedly, lazily rocking her hips, feeling Lukas’s cock stir anew within her, ready for round two.

Mmm.

All too easy for a clever, busty girl like her…

#brainwashing #mind control #brainless #mindless #hypnosis #mind corruption #hypnotized #brain drain #jay aury #ai artwork #short story #maid costume #maid #gentle domination #gentle fdom

203 notes · View notes

blasphemousclaw · 22 days ago

Note

Speaking of different Hornsent cultures, do you also think Midra is a part of that culture as well? The ghost in his manse dies suggest they're both Hornsent

I do think Midra is meant to be a part of the hornsent culture, yeah! Not only do the manse spirits and the inquisition storyline suggest that he's hornsent, but his manse is FULL of architectural details that you can find across all hornsent settlements!

We have to mention first though that Midra doesn’t have horns (and it doesn’t seem like Nanaya has horns either under her headscarf?), but it does seem that there were hornsent in Belurat who did not have horns... technically, “tower folk” might be a more accurate way of describing them in that regard, though the game seems to refer to the culture and those who lived in the Lands of the Tower collectively as both “hornsent” and “tower folk”: “Long ago, Queen Marika commanded Sir Messmer to purge the tower folk” (Leda). “Scorpion simmered in a black soup. Traditional meal of the hornsent” (Scorpion Stew). I'd guess that it was just less common, and not as well regarded, to be hornless, so the culture is still pretty defined by having horns even if it's not a universal trait (again, the hornsent aren't a species, they're just people who are very strongly affected by the Crucible's influence, just like how the animals of the Shadow Lands can often be found with horns too).

Anyway back to Midra – because he doesn't have horns, it is possible that he wasn't born hornsent and simply adopted the culture. Nanaya though has an extra cultural detail that makes me feel like she might have been born into hornsent culture... “Nanaya” was the name of an ancient Mesopotamian goddess of love! The hornsent civilization is extremely heavily inspired by ancient Mesopotamia, especially Babylon: the name Enir-Ilim comes from the Akkadian name for Babylon, Bāb-ilim — “the gate of the gods,” and the Tower with its Divine Gate is pretty obviously a reference to the Tower of Babel… so the fact that Nanaya has a Mesopotamian name, when we know the game used other words from ancient Mesopotamia for the hornsent, makes it VERY likely to me that she is a native of the tower lands! But even if Midra and/or Nanaya aren’t tower folk and originally came from a different culture (some have theorized that they’re numen), it’s pretty clear to me that they’ve at least adopted the tower culture due to all the visual and story details associated with them and their manse.

Architecturally, the Manse very obviously uses a lot of the same stylistic details as structures in Belurat and other hornsent settlements. The front door to the Manse has the same metal relief design as the doors in Belurat:

(Midra’s Manse front door; Belurat front door)

the Manse is also decorated with the same spiraled columns that are a staple in all hornsent settlements, as well as the same spiral tree motif that can be found on walls and stone tablets in Belurat:

(Midra's Manse library)

(Midra's boss room; Manse front room)

(Theatre of the Divine Beast, Belurat)

(Small Private Altar, Belurat)

Midra's robes are pretty nondescript, but Nanaya's outfit absolutely screams hornsent; there are so many details in her outfit evoking the hornsent culture. The decorative trim on her robes have a spiral design, which is a motif found in a lot of hornsent art and architecture:

(Enir-Ilim)

and the twisted fabric framing Nanaya’s face reminds me of the twisted drapes found in the Theatre of the Divine Beast and Enir-Ilim:

(Theatre of the Divine Beast, Belurat)

(Enir-Ilim)

Midra and Nanaya had a lot of hornsent followers who lived in their manse who you can still find as spirits and shades. The dialogue and item descriptions related to Midra and his followers make it very clear that when the inquisition stepped in, the violence they were committing was against their own people:

"I beg you stop. Haven't I taken enough? Are we not brethren, common in our line? And yet, you offer only cruelty... I ask; what crime did great Midra commit?" (Manse spirit NPC)

"A glove stitched together from the flayed skin of the victims of a butcherous bloodbath. [...] Forged of an unyielding, black impulse toward revenge fostered in those who were hunted down as heretics by their own brethren, these are the weapons of the utterly downtrodden." (Madding Hand)

and yes, I think Midra and Nanaya are included in this! There’s kind of a pattern in the hornsent civilization of the elites (represented by the inquisition) suppressing different subgroups within their own culture for not adhering to the status-quo: this includes the Curseblades, the Lamenter, and Midra and his followers. I wonder if Midra held some independent beliefs that had nothing to do with the frenzied flame that made him suspicious in the eyes of the inquisition? He was known as "Sage Midra," and had a great library in his manse... it makes me think that he was some revolutionary scholar and thinker who inspired a lot of hornsent to follow him at his manse. I wonder if him not having horns and still having so much influence over other hornsent could have been seen as a threat to the inquisition’s image of (horned) supremacy??

#elden ring #midra #midra lord of frenzied flame #nanaya #asks #the tower folk were so complex and diverse its super fascinating

105 notes · View notes

audreyscribes · 11 months ago

Text

Ω PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS:

🌊 POSEIDON: God of the Sea, Storms & Earthquakes, Droughts, Floods, Horses🔱

author's note: I had a sudden idea about writing some headcanons Camp Halfblood demigods being claimed and what it's like for each respective god and cabin, followed by a small blurb afterwards. Thank you for reading and please like and reblog! The order is not in order of the cabin numbers. [PJO DEMIGOD HEADCANONS MASTERLIST]

When you get claimed, it’s like a tsunami, a storm, and earthquake hit all at once; metaphorically and physically speaking.

Everyone stares at you in disbelief, awe, and fear.

You’re confused as you look at everyone’s reactions, then it starts to be unnerving. You’re even more confused when the people are parted, willingly and unwillingly when a boy with sea-foam green eyes pushes forward and stares at you with a gaped look. You stare at him back and notice the storm of emotions that passes through his eyes: shock, disbelief, joy, relief, fear, and anger.

The boy finally reaches over to you and stands before you. You can feel the power from him, but you also feel a sense of ease.

“Hi, my name is Percy Jackson….and I’m the son of Poseidon…your half-brother.”

You’re not taken to your cabin but instead, Percy leads you to the Big House, following Chiron, with a few individuals parting from the mass of people following behind you. When people whisper, you see Percy give them a look that made them freeze.

Percy sticks by your side as you all gather around the table tennis with the other individuals, before you’re bombed with information about the Big Three, the oath they had taken, how it was abolished by yours truly, and how they didn’t expect to see another child of Poseidon; especially this ‘soon’.

When you leave with all that information to process, Percy stands by your side and you two just stare out at Camp Half-blood, in awkward silence. You’re still reeling from the events that followed but there’s only so much awkward silence the two of you could take like a fish out of water.

“So, you wanna see where the cabin is?” starts Percy, shrugging as casually he could. You could only nod before Percy helps take your bag and leads you.

When you get to the Cabin, you open it up to see the large statue of Poseidon standing before you, feeling small and overwhelmed. Then you’re hit with the size of the cabin and how empty it feels. There are three bunk beds, but judging by two of them they looked already used, with stuff above the top bunk as some sort of storage. You can clearly tell which of the bunk beds is new as it’s not as used. You know they had to bring in another bunk bed from somewhere and manage to bring it in when you were guys having a meeting.

You’re shown the ropes and as you walk together, eat together at the dinner table, and when you go back to your cabin, it hits you how long Percy has been alone by himself. He takes you to the repaired fountain in the back and as you soak your feet, he tells you everything and you tell him your story in between sharing the bag of blue candy.

As you go to lie in bed, then it hits you that despite being alone and with the occasional visit from Tyson, you notice that while the cabin isn’t that occupied, you notice the life that’s been put into it. The decorations, the minotaur horn on the wall-

Percy acts like a big, supportive big brother that is there to catch you. He takes you to the water and the pegasus stall, the former where if you want to be alone and the pegasus stall to have them listen to you. He teaches you what he learned by himself and guides you in parts he wished he had someone there for. And you’re there to make him remember that he isn’t alone and he is loved.

When you get claimed, its as if a tsunami, a storm, and an earthquake had happened all at once, and you were the epicenter. Everyone looked absolutely shaken and were gaping at you.

Then you see a boy with sea green eyes and when you two make eye contact, it’s as if you were both lost at sea and found each other in the giant ocean. You saw his face go through many emotions before it settled into a smile, before he stepped up towards you.

“Hi, my name is Percy Jackson. I’m the son of Poseidon…and I guess you’re my sibling.”

You stare at him before the whispers of everyone around you become harder to ignore. Percy looks at them, some silencing themselves as his eyes land upon them before he sighs, rubs the back of his neck before gently hovering his hand behind your back.

“Come on, let’s go talk in somewhere private” he coaxed softly. You nodded and followed his soft guide. You get a rundown of what has happened, the Big 3 and their oath, and how it was absolved by Percy. Given the fact the time frame, no one had expected another child of the Big Three to appear that soon. Though they were pretty sure Zeus already had a few and it was only a matter of them before they made landfall in droves.

Everything was utterly overwhelming and you were trying to process it all, not just the information but also your emotions. The storm within you was building and you weren’t sure if you could contain it.

Then you found yourself at the beach and then everything became calmer as you listened to the sound of the water overlapping each other. You dug your toes deeper into the sand and then you became more aware of the presence by your side.

You looked over at Percy who looked towards the water, sitting casually on the washed up log that you were on, a bag of blue candy dangling in his hand.

Without looking at you, he held out the bag of blue candy towards you in a silent gesture. You took one and inspected it, wondering why he had a bag of just blue candy.

“Blue’s my favourite colour,” started Percy. “When someone told my mom that there was no such thing as blue food or drink, she went out of her way to prove him wrong. My mom would always make blue cookies and cake, buy me blue candy. I have a feeling my mom also liked blue because it reminded her of Poseidon, but it also reminded her of me. And now when I eat blue food, I’m reminded of my mom and also our dad in a way.”

You listened as the blue candy sat on your tongue. You weren’t sure if it was the candy itself or what Percy said, but as the candy dissolved in your mouth, you swore it made you feel better.

“I get everything is pretty overwhelming. It was like that for me and trust me, it was a lot…but you’re not alone like I was. I’ll do my best to be there for you, not as a child of Poseidon but also your brother. So if you feel a bit too alone, remember I’m here.”

You shifted your feet in nervousness. “It sort of feels like I have to fill in your shoes and I don’t think I can” you admitted.

Percy put a hand on your shoulder, “And I don’t want you to. Not because of pride or anything, but it was tough. There was a lot of pressure and a lot on the line. I gained so much glory and so much more, but I could’ve lost it all. Hopefully you won’t have to go through like I did…but if you do, I’ll be by your side.”

“Thanks Percy…I’ll try.”

He smiled, “That’s all I ask” he said before he looked back at the water for a moment. He stood up and gestured to you, “Come on, let me show you the places only a child of Poseidon can go.”

You grinned before yelling, “I’ll race you!”

“You’re on!” laughed Percy before the two of you sprinted down the sand and jumped into the water, laughing in your private domain. As you descended into the water, bubbles reached up and popped in on your face, soft like a kiss to your hairline.

394 notes · View notes