Percy Jackson X Reader Novels & Stories

thank you guys so much for all the love on this story lately 😭🖤 Reading your comments genuinely makes my day. Also, there’s a sweet reader who used to comment a lot (pickleberry) and suddenly vanished 😭 I just randomly realized I haven’t seen you in a while, and I genuinely hope you’re doing okay wherever you are. To everyone reading silently too, please take care of yourselves okay? And tell me your thoughts on this chapter 👀 Love y'all Gracias. WREN

My release hit like a tornado, ripping through me “Ahh… ahhh ahhhh… oh God… ahhh…” I screamed, hips bucking against his face. He kept sucking, tongue working me through every wave, drawing it out until I was trembling and gasping

I was busy reading some of the book titles: The Lord Of The Rings, The Hunger Games, The Harry Potter Series, The Lightening Thief (Percy Jackson and the Olympian), The Last Mission.... Wow, he has good taste in books. I can't believe he actually read these. I began laughing to myself. "What's so funny?" Tyler asked. I turned to look at him, still laughing. "It's just so hard to imagine a boy like you reading. If I hadn't seen it myself, I wouldn't have believed it." I commented.

) BOOK TEN- Title TBD- TBA 2025 - Xanthia's Story (Nora and Xander's Daughter. BOOK ELEVEN- title TBD-TBA- 2026- Octavius Story (Nora and Xander's son.)

Chase warns him. “The weird little thing I couldn’t figure out has shown its purpose. It’s positioned perfectly at my clit, and it’s sucking while Hudelone rails into me. Heat burns through my bones, and I’m silenced by the pleasure that builds,” Jax reads aloud with a grin. “Okay, stop reading the fucking book!” Chase laughs, shaking his head as he walks off. “I’m reading them all. Every single one of her books,” Jax smirks, clearly enjoying himself.

I mutter underneath my breath. Ronan laughs softly behind me, still in his white tank top and black sweats. Malachi is shirtless in white shorts. I am surrounded by three sex gods who are my brother’s best friends. It can’t get more scandalous than this. “What’re you reading?” I ask Jaxon. Without looking up, he lowers his glasses and peeks over them. “A book.” I roll my eyes. “Yes, a book on what?” He closes it and sets it down on the glass table beside him.

His expression remained unreadable, though something flickered in his gaze, something Penelope couldn’t place. “Persephone,” he greeted coolly, his deep voice resonating in the cavernous room like a distant thunderclap. Demeter stepped forward, her smile a serene mask as she inclined her head. “Hades, may I present my daughter, Persephone.” Hades’ eyes briefly moved to Demeter, his gaze sharp and calculating. Then, they returned to Penelope, lingering with unnerving focus. For a moment, his expression didn’t shift, but behind that calm mask, his mind churned. This is not Persephone. As the god of death, he had an innate ability to see souls, and the one before him wasn’t Persephone’s. It was

the woman whispered, her voice sounding hauntingly human against the mechanical roar of the system. Lyra Thorne stood frozen, her obsidian blade hovering inches from the woman’s chest. She felt the sensory reality of the "Reader"—not as a god, but as a "Consumer." The woman smelled of lavender laundry detergent and the metallic tang of a smartphone. She was the one who had "Subscribed" to Lyra’s pain. She was the reason the Forbidden Forest had been so cold.

I honestly don't know what to say or what to do, since if I call her she'll just look at me and not answer me, I think maybe if I start reading the same things with her, then I can at least say what I think and hope that she'll answer me at some point. I keep watching, her eyes are focused on the words, and she seems interested, then I see that she's reading a fiction book, Percy Jackson, The Thief of lightning, at least that's what the title shows at the top, in smaller letters. I know it's human literature, I've never stopped to read something like this, but Ayla seems very interested. The way the light falls on her face, at the same time as a few strands come loose from her braid, making

My voice did not shake. The man tilted his head. He didn't have a face, just a shifting darkness where his features should be. "You can call me the Reader," he said. His voice sounded like paper rubbing together. "I am the one who pays for the ink. I am the one who decides if your story ends here or keeps going." Bryan stepped in front of me, his hand on his pistol. "He’s another code, Hazel. Don’t listen to him." The Reader laughed. It was a dry, thin sound. "A copy thinks he has a choice. How cute."