#Red Warrior Camp

[thecabinsixwitch]

chb cabin aesthetics: 16/?

🤬🐗 Ares - Cabin 5 ⚔️🩸

Hold your mouth for the war / Use it for what it's for / Speak the truth about me / Determined / Possessed / I feel a conquering will down inside me / Strength / The strength of many to crush who might stop me

“Mouth for War” - Pantera

(feel free to send me moodboard requests!)

[lockede-x-it]

.........Willow Tail from Moth Flight's Vision maybe? Or Red Claw? I adore them both

woe. you get the two for one combo 👍

[redratoon]

Some Backgrounds and rigged characters I did for Warrior Cats 20 Years MAProject (hosted by Stripes Creations) I did all of these for collabs!

part 22 - Squirrelpaw and Brambleclaw animation - collab with Raven's ArtVerse, Rizdravens, tiger light, Dragonerror

part 35 - backgrounds, thunderclan camp - collab with FlashingSpark

part 54 - backgrounds, thunderclan forest/thunderclan camp - collab with Sparrowtail

[stus-warrior-designs]

Red Claw and Acorn Fur?

I hope they ignored Moth Flight’s rude ass

[starclanstims]

may i ask for a nightcloud stimboard with smoke, kindles and night?

nightcloud stimboard with smoke, kindling, and night themes requested by: anon

sure! i'm assuming by kindles, you meant fire kindling, and not the kindle fire tablet ^^" hope you like it!

credit: x | x | x x | x | x x | x | x

[skuffypaw]

[monster-disaster]

maybe a short story on a human reader being taken by an orc army/camp and just absolutely used as their personal toy???

When I read your request, I couldn't help but hear, "Looks like meat's back on the menu, boys!" from Lotr.

But let's be serious: I hope you will enjoy it. :)

Orcs x Reader Warnings: filth, nothing but filth

The air is thick with smoke, mingling with the musky odor of sweat and leather. The scent of blood and violence still hangs heavy, fueling the heat and tension around the tents made of rough animal hides. The crackling flames of the campfire cast dancing shadows across the rugged faces of the warriors. Feral hunger glints in their eyes as they come closer. It feels like the ground rumbles and shakes under their steps. Their muscular, battle-scarred bodies pulsate with anticipation. The sounds of their gruff voices fill your ears, making you deaf to everything else. Your gaze jumps from orc to orc. The chieftain's large hand is heavy and warm on your shoulder as he pushes you deeper into the center of the camp.

The bounds around your legs and wrists make it hard for you to move, but it doesn't stop the warriors from closing around you. Their heat and raw desire surround you, making you shake and sweat under their primal gazes. Adrenalin fuels the fire in your bloodstream and thrums through your body until you almost buckle because of the throb between your legs.

The chieftain behind you reaches for the clasps and buckles that hold your armor together. The metal piece is dirty and beaten. His calloused fingers trace the edges of your armor before letting it fall to the ground. In other circumstances, you would feel relieved without its weight. Your undershirt sticks to your chest because of the sweat that still glistens in your heated skin, revealing the curve of your breasts. Another orc steps closer, barely smaller than his leader behind you. You remember him. One of his eyes is milky-white with a long scar from his eyebrow to his nose. He rips off your shirt, dropping the useless fabric before reaching for the buckles of your pants. You can't even feel the cold night air between the orcs towering over you.

The warriors move in sync. Their hands work in unison to strip away the layers covering your body. They reveal the soft swells of your curves and the hard cords of your muscles. Your skin is decorated with old and fresh scars, injuries, and bruises. The others get louder and louder with each glimpse they get of your naked body. The clear signs that you are a warrior, a fierce opponent, fuel their desire.

Soon, you stand exposed among the orcs, ready to be ravaged by them. Your limbs are not tied together anymore, but it changes nothing. You can't make yourself to move. It would be futile anyway. You can't fight against them, and they would enjoy chasing after you too much.

The orc in front of you wastes no time. His rough hands eagerly reach out to grope and caress every inch of your body. His dark green fingers dig into the flesh of your breast, squeezing and kneading, pinching your nipple until you mewl and try to get away from him, falling into the arms of the chieftain behind you. The leader grabs your hip, making you grind down on his leather-covered erection. His unyielding grip leaves red imprints on your skin. The cold of his rings digs into the flesh of your hips.

One hand slips between your legs. Rough fingers slide over your slickness and prod at your entrance. Your stomach jumps with fear and excitement. "Look at this juicy cunt, boys! She's all wet and ready for us!" The orc in front of you announces loudly to everyone around you to hear. The camp gets even louder with feral growls and words that make your heart beat faster in your ribcage. Whatever you want to say, to tell him to stop or to go deeper, dies on your tongue. The only thing keeping you standing is the chieftain behind you, still grinding his cock against your ass while his man explores your wetness. He smears it all over your mound and inner thighs before turning his attention back to your entrance. "I knew the moment I saw her on the battlefield that she would be a good prize to fight for," he grunts, forcing each digit of his thick finger into your pussy. Your walls clench down around him, to keep him out or to force him deeper, you don't know. "You like that, don't you?" The chief grunts next to your ear. His question fans over the curve of your neck. "I can smell your pussy, girl." "We all smell her." Someone says from the circle of orcs surrounding you. Their eyes are heavy on your body as they watch you. You steal a few glances at them. A lot of them are already naked, tugging at their cocks hanging heavy between their thick thighs.

The male in front of you continues to bully your cunt with his finger, going deeper and deeper while his other hand reaches up to grip your hair. He pulls back your head, making you arch your body. "You're ours now, human," he snarles. "But do not fret. I saw you fighting, I'm sure you can handle a few orc cocks too." A rumble of laughter waves through the air, and your pussy tightens at the thought. "Oh, look at that!" He laughs, pushing another finger into your wet hole. A groan gets stuck in your throat at the feeling of your walls stretching around him. "She likes the thought." "She does," the chief grunts, pulling his own cock out of his pants to force your hand around it. Your fingers curl around his thick rod automatically. If you could focus on anything, you would be surprised at its weight on your palm. "She doesn't look like someone who backs out of a challenge." His words are followed by laughter again while you bend and turn the way they want you.

Before you know it, you are on your knees with their leader still behind you, shoving his cock into your pussy while his warrior is busy with your mouth. He taps the head of his erection against your lips, and you open without a second thought. At this point, your mind is too hazy, and your senses are full of their musky scent to do or think anything. You feel like a raw nerve under their pushes and pulls. They thrust in and out of you with a relentless rhythm while you moan and drool around their cocks. You slip in and out of your orgasms, getting more and more drunk on their relentless assault. They push your boundaries, both physically and mentally, until you are nothing but a warm body they can use as they want.

You don't even notice when they come inside you. Their warm seed seeps out of your abused holes, and you almost choke on the orc's cock when he pushes himself deeper into your throat.

The ground is dirty and hard under your weak body as you let yourself collapse. Your muscles shake and twitch while your pussy clenches around nothing. Your chest heaves with every breath you take as you try to clear your mind.

But they are not done yet.

"It's your turn, boys," one of them says, stepping away from you to give enough space for the others. "Keep those sweet holes full tonight."

The air crackles with anticipation and feral need. One by one, the orc warriors step forward, their rough hands exploring every inch of your body. Their calloused fingers trace the swell of your breasts, teasing and pinching your nipples until you cry and wiggle. Your pussy pulsates between your legs while their fingers explore your folds and both of your holes. They feast upon your bare curves, their desires ignited by the sight of your vulnerable state.

The first orc doesn't waste his time. His massive frame towers over you, keeping his body up with his trunk-like arms next to your head while taking you fiercely, his thick length plunges deep into your wet and eager pussy. His heavy balls slap against your skin. Your walls grip him tightly even though you are sensitive, and the feeling of him pounding into you makes you tear up. A thumb smears your tears all over your face before pushing into your mouth. Your tongue laps at the digit.

When the orc between your legs reaches his peak, fucking you full of his cum, another one steps forward, hungry and ready for his turn. He turns you onto your stomach easily, positioning himself behind you when you force your knees to not give up under your weight. His hands are gripping your hips as he shoves his cock into your cunt. Ecstasy trembles through your body while someone else grabs a good chunk of your hair and forces your mouth down his hard length. More tears escape from the corner of your eyes as you gulp and suck around the orc's cock.

The orcs continue to take turns, their primal instincts driving them deeper and deeper into you. You become a mess of drool and cum until there is no part on your heated, sweaty skin that they didn't touch or use. They ravage your body with a ferocity that matches the intensity of the battle they had just fought while you scream and moan underneath them.

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his petite gn s/o wearing his clothes?

absolutely, lovely! here you go:

Astarion

100% makes a comment about you looking “good enough to eat”

but, seriously. he jokes to cover up how delighted he is.

you’re wearing his usual casual campsite shirt, the open neck of it revealing a large portion of your chest - Astarion can’t help peppering the exposed skin with kisses 💕

wants to see you in more comfortable domestic situations with him. I think this is part of when he realises how utterly enamoured he is with you.

lets you sleep in it and watches you dream. can’t take his eyes off how lovely you are.

Gale

you’ve definitely stolen a robe of his, I think. probably wearing it because you can’t be bothered to get dressed properly lmao

he’s surprised when he spots you. takes a moment to just watch you being in his clothes. has a huge smile on his face when you turn around.

”apologies, you just look… radiant.”

you laugh - because let’s be honest, he’s compliment his own dress sense too - and pull him in for a kiss.

he runs his hands up and down your body to feel the shape of engulfed in his finery, smiles against your lips 💕

Wyll

so so so so pleased.

we know this lovely lad is a romantic. there’s something so soft and intimate about you wearing something of his.

”sorry I just needed a shirt while I tried to find—“ “keep it. it looks far better on you than it does on me.”

a grin crosses your face, you stalk across to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“hmm, I don’t know if that’s true… it would look best on the tent floor.”

laugh when he widens his eyes in mock-surprise at the scandal of it all, and you use the opportunity to pull him into a loving kiss 💕

suddenly more of his shirts end up in your wardrobe. he likes knowing you have a part of him with you if you leave the camp without his company.

Halsin

the one most likely to have a visceral reaction.

his jaw tightens. he lets out the littlest growl.

silvanus preserve him, he feels so territorial over you… you’re wrapped in his shirt (he’s huge, you can probably wear it as a whole outfit lbr) and you look so warm and safe. protected. he wants to keep you that way forever - he vows he will.

when you tell him it smells of him and you find it comforting he swear his soul leaves his body

(NSFW) most likely to have you wear it while you ride him later 💕

Dammon

huge grin when he spots you pottering around the forge in one of his shirts.

”why are you in that old thing, love?” ”because it reminded me of you, and you’re my favourite thing in the entire world.”

he grins and puts down his work, wrapping you in his arms as well as his shirt, tail swishing in joy.

wears one of your shirts the next day and is so so happy when you burst out laughing before giving him a long kiss 💕

Rolan

pretends to be annoyed. “get your own clothes!”

secretly so thrilled lol. never had a serious significant other before, especially not one who’d wear his things.

loves how it looks on you. can’t stop stealing glances, appreciating the way it hangs on your body. brings out all the bits he most admires about you.

you catch him looking and wink. he goes a bright red… well, brighter.

Zevlor

“oh, do you need more clothes? I can get some for you.”

laugh good-naturedly at his concern and assure him it’s just because you like wearing something which reminds you of him. watch his eyes soften in adoration.

“ah, my love. you know how to stir this old warrior’s heart.”

holds you at arm’s length while you do a spin so he can properly admire you before pulling you to his chest for a deep kiss 💕

[toadtoru]

𝐏𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐒

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇 | series masterlist

pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Suguru Geto

After your city falls, you become a war price to the swift-footed Satoru Gojo, the strongest of the Greeks. You now have to adjust to your new position in a foreign camp, no longer as a princess of Lyrnessus, but as a symbol of Satoru Gojo's honour.

warnings: +18, heavy on the angst, mentions of blood, fighting and sickness, character death, smut tags: Satoru as Achilles, Suguru as Patroclus, reader as Briseis, greek gods and myths, f!reader, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, smut, threesome wc: 7.3k | approx 30 min reading time

MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

Your least favourite part of the day is dinner. It is expected that you wear extravagant dresses, usually brought back by Gojo from whatever city he’s ransacked, do your hair nicely, and walk around amongst the tables, serving wine to whoever asks. 

Gojo always sits at the end of the table, with Suguru on one side and Nanami on the other. While the two men prefer to stay silent and observe, Gojo entertains. If one had only seen Gojo at his dinners, one would not believe that he was a deadly warrior on the battlefield. He drinks wine, laughs loudly at whatever jokes his men make, and entertains whichever king decides to come by for dinner. 

You walk around the tables, trying to bring as little attention to yourself as possible. There’s usually one other woman with you, serving wine as well. Your favourite nights are the times when it’s Nobara. You share looks whenever someone says something outrageous, and when you’re dismissed, you can debrief about whatever conversations you were able to listen in on. 

Tonight, you’re alone. You’re not entirely sure why, but it forces you to hurry around, barely having enough time before the next person asks for more wine. You're scurrying around the table, trying to ignore the way the men's eyes linger on you. No one ever touches you; they wouldn’t dare. Though you doubt Gojo would care, it’s nice to know you have some sort of protection. 

You sigh when you run out of wine and go to the table at the back end of the tent to refill it. 

“Hey, woman. Can I get some more wine?” a man asks, and you send him a tight-lipped smile. “Just a second,” you reply, and the man frowns. He holds his cup up in front of you. 

“My cup is empty,” he states. His cheeks are flushed, and you can tell he’s drunk. You nod. “So is mine,” you reply, shoving him your empty pitcher as you walk towards the wine table. A couple of men around him snicker, but the man in question’s frown only deepens, turning into a scowl. You ignore him as you walk past him. Slowly, you begin mixing the wine, humming to yourself. 

A hand touches your waist, and you gasp as you look back at the drunk man. His eyes are glossed, and his entire face is red at this point. “How dare you talk to me like that?” he slurs, and you scrunch your nose as his breath hits your face. It reeks of wine and rot. 

“Go away, please,” you say. You glance towards the end of the table, but Suguru is in a deep conversation with Gojo. No one’s attention is on you. The man shakes his head and sniffs your hair. “You smell nice,” he says. You grimace. He’s far too close for your liking at this point. His hand is still on your waist. You feel suffocated. 

“I saw you, you know. In the temple. Wanted to take you for myself, but then you ran away.” 

You take a deep breath. Suguru still isn’t looking your way. Blood roars in your ears. You want to leave. 

“Maybe I’ll pay you a visit one night,” he says. You turn back to look at him, and he grins at you, his rotten teeth peeking out. In a swift motion, you throw your elbow back, hitting him straight in the neck. He stumbles back, gripping his throat, as he gasps for breath, gurgling noises leaving him. Suddenly, people are all around you. Men appear at the man’s side, helping him. Gojo is in front of you, with furrowed brows. 

He grabs your arm and pulls you towards the exit of the tent, not saying a word. You stumble behind him. 

"Now, why would you do that, little bird?” Gojo asks as soon as you are inside the confines of his own tent. 

“He was being rude,” you answer, staring towards the chair behind him. You don’t dare to look at his face, not knowing what will happen if you do. It feels like months of buildup, stress, sorrow, and confusion catch up on you at this exact moment, all triggered by some creepy guy with bad breath. Your chest feels tight, and your head spins. 

“Rude? He was being rude.” Gojo laughs, and you snap your gaze at him, your brows furrowing. Gojo pinches the bridge of his nose, his shoulders shaking with laughter. You can’t figure out whether he’s amused or angry. Maybe it’s both.

“You elbowed a guy in the neck because he was being rude?” Gojo raises his voice. Ah, he’s angry. You frown. 

“So what? I was just supposed to let it slide? He was being disgusting, Gojo! It was merely the consequences of his own actions-”

“And what about the consequences of your actions?” Gojo interrupts, and you shut your mouth immediately. “How does it reflect on me? Now they think I can’t even control my own woman!”

“Oh, so I’m your woman now? Is that what this is? Because last time I checked, you won’t even look at me!” You point an accusing finger at Gojo, and something flashes in his eyes before he goes back to glaring at you. His brows are furrowed, and you can’t help but think that even now he looks beautiful. You hate yourself for it. 

“I saved you! Do you even know what happens to the women in the camps? In Yoshinobu’s camp?” Gojo yells, and you feel a lump in your throat. You don’t leave Gojo’s camp often; you don’t need to, but you’ve seen them around, in the shadows and behind tents, trying to make themselves appear small. In Gojo’s camp, women are treated differently. You all share the a tent, but at least you have one. Yet, you’re not quite ready to let Gojo win this one. He doesn't get to win just because he does the bare minimum.

“I didn’t need your help!” you yell back, and Gojo rolls his eyes. 

“Yes, you did!” He retorts back, and you let out an annoyed sound, hiding your face in your hands and taking deep breaths. When you’re ready, you meet Gojo’s eyes again. 

You stare at each other for a while. 

“Why am I here, Gojo? What do you need me for?” your tone is more desperate than you’d like. You need answers; you need to know. Gojo frowns. 

“That’s none of your business,” he replies, and a small laugh leaves you. None of your business? You feel like a fool. You are about to start yelling at him again, but you’re interrupted when Suguru comes into the tent. Both of your heads snap towards the entrance, where a flushed Suguru stands. Did he run here?

“What’s going on? Is everything alright?” Suguru’s eyes dart towards you, scanning your body. You cross your arms over your chest and avoid his burning gaze. 

“I’m fine,” 

“Oh, you’re fine? Now that Suguru’s here, you’re fine.” you look at Gojo, and he looks angry. His eyebrows are raised, and he’s pursing his lips, yet you don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. Now he’s deciding to be jealous? He has no right. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, wanting to force the answers out of him. 

Gojo glares at you. You glare back. Suguru stays quiet, seemingly not wanting to escalate the situation.

“I never asked to be here.” Your voice is smaller than you’d like. Gojo frowns. 

“Then leave. Go, if you’re so unhappy.” There’s no emotion in his voice. He’s like a wall. His face is expressionless. Suguru steps in between you, trying to make both of you see reason. 

“Okay, if we can just calm down–”

“No, Suguru! Let her leave if she so desperately wants to,” Gojo says, seemingly not interested in whatever Suguru has to say. You raise your brows. You’ve seen Gojo snap several times if there was a stain on his shirt or someone stepped out of line. You’ve never seen him snap at Suguru. Suguru notices the change as well and sighs. 

“Satoru,”

“Fine! I’ll leave then.” You’re not interested in whatever Suguru has to say, either. You haven’t talked since your kiss, as you’ve been dutifully avoiding him. You haven’t dared to face the consequences of that night. You let him under your skin, and you shouldn’t have. 

So, without looking back, you stumble out of the tent and into the darkness. Suguru calls for you, but you ignore him as you make your way towards the women's tents. You consider where you could go. There are still cities that haven’t been ransacked yet, cities whose walls stand high and proud. You could even go to Troy. 

You stop in your tracks. You could go to Troy. You could also go home. There would still be houses that hadn’t been burned and gardens that still had vegetables growing. You’re no stranger to hunting, having gone with your dad and brothers before you married. 

It would be a lonely life. 

Here, you have a purpose. You have friends and meaning, and whatever the hell is going on between you and the two infuriating men behind you. You look back. Suguru stands at the entrance of the tent, looking at you. You can’t decipher the look on his face. 

Air. You decide you need air, and so you walk towards the beach, ignoring the way his eyes burns into your back. The waves are calm, and you sit down on the sand, gazing out at the horizon. You’re not even sure why you’re hesitating.

“I thought I might find you here.” 

Suguru sits down beside you. His hair flies in the wind, making him look like something out of a painting.

“You’re angry,” he states. You scoff. 

“How observant of you,” you reply. That makes him laugh, his melodic voice cutting through the harsh wind against your faces.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says. This you don’t reply to. You both know it’s true, so there’s no need to try and deny it. The memory of his lips on yours still burns hot in your mind. 

“Did you not like it?” you look at Suguru with furrowed brows. He looks oddly vulnerable in front of you. 

“It was nice,” you say after a while, tasting the words on your tongue. You choose them carefully, letting them lull before you let them go. “I just didn’t expect it.”

“You were the one who kissed me.” 

He sounds amused, and you feel your face grow hot as you stare at the waves. You purse your lips, holding back a smile, before bashfully meeting Suguru’s eyes. 

“You practically initiated it. Don’t act all innocent.” you reply, and Suguru clutches his stomach as he laughs. 

“You’re a real minx, you know that?” He says and you gasp. 

“I am not!”

“Yes, you are!”

Silence envelops you. You both watch the waves crash against the cliffs. 

“Does he mean it?” you ask. “Can I leave?” 

Suguru sighs. He nods. “Yes, he does.” For some reason, it’s not relief you feel washing over you. Instead, it’s a sense of disappointment. 

“You can leave, but,” a hand finds your thigh, travelling up. A shudder runs through you as Suguru moves closer, pressing a kiss on your shoulder. He looks up at you through his lashes. “I don’t want you to. Neither does Satoru.” 

Oh. Your whole body feels hot now. Suguru’s breath against your neck feels scorching, and your breath hitches. His thumb runs circles into your thigh, and you bite your lip, letting the words sink in. They don’t want you to leave. 

“But you would let me?” you say, and Suguru hums, trailing kisses up along your neck, reaching your jaw. “Yes, if you really wanted to.” 

You feel your resolve crumble. Suguru’s lips feel wet and hot against your skin. “How about this?” Suguru says words slightly muffled as he kisses your shoulder again. “Come back with me tonight.” This time he kisses the corner of your lips, and you move to look at him, your lips nearly touching. “Stay with us for now.” Purple eyes flicker between your own and your lips. “You can leave any time.” It’s merely a whisper, but you know it’s a promise as well. 

Your mind races with thoughts. Why even claim you in the first place if they’re just going to let you leave? There are so many things you want to ask, to say, but all of it comes to a short when Suguru finally presses his lips to yours, and any resistance you might have had disappears and is replaced with Suguru. Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 

He pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. “Come back with me, please.”

“I’m sorry,” Gojo says, and you purse your lips. “I really am. I’m glad you’re here. And I’m glad you punched that guy. He deserved it.” You nod and meet his eyes. He looks hesitant, almost pained. As if he’s begging you to say something. Anything. 

“Thank you, Gojo,”

“Satoru. Call me Satoru, please,” he says, and you close your mouth, blinking at him. You feel Suguru’s hand on your lower back, guiding you closer to the tent. 

“Satoru,” you say, tasting his name on your tongue. Satoru nods and grabs your hand once you’re close enough. Suguru’s inside the tent already, watching your interaction closely. You let yourself be pulled in by Satoru, who smiles down at you. 

“He came by earlier. Demanded that I punish you.” 

You feel your cheeks grow hot, but you don’t back down. 

“Yeah, and what did you tell him?”

“I told him he was a sorry excuse for a man and that if he ever as much as looked at you again, I’d have his head.” 

It all feels so rash. So quick. Satoru’s barely looked at you for months, and all it took to get his attention was punching some guy in the throat? He’s clearly enticed by you now, but you’re not sure if this sudden attention is a blessing or a curse. Satoru might seem calm, but you know as well as anyone that it barely takes anything to tick him off. 

You look at Suguru behind Satoru. Satoru follows your gaze, looking at Suguru as well.

“Are you going to join us, little dove?” Suguru asks, and you hesitantly step fully inside the tent, letting Satoru close the curtain behind you. You’ve been inside this tent more times than you can count, yet you can’t deny that it feels entirely different at this moment. It feels somehow hotter and smaller as you make your way towards Suguru. You know Satoru is right behind you, even though he’s so light on his feet that you can hardly hear him. 

Suguru encourages you to come closer, guiding your hands around his neck. His own hands settle on your hips, his thumbs rubbing circles into your skin in comforting motions. Slowly, you lean up, your lips ghosting against his, yet it’s Suguru who closes the gap and kisses you. Suguru kisses you slowly like he’s got all the time in the world. You sigh into the kiss, letting yourself completely surrender. 

You almost forget Satoru is there until you feel his strong arms wrap around your waist. He burrows his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he presses you flush against Suguru’s body. You’re caged between the two giant men, moaning into Suguru’s mouth as Satoru deftly nibbles at your neck. 

“Let us make it up to you, little dove,” Satoru murmurs.

It’s not long before he gets impatient and lifts you. You gasp as your feet lift off the ground, and you’re moved to his bed, sinking into his blankets and pillows. For a man as rough as Satoru, you’re surprised by how soft his bed is. 

“Satoru,” you gasp as he gets on top of you, and he kisses you with fervour, sucking on your tongue and exploring your mouth. If Suguru kisses like he has all the time in the world, Satoru kisses you as though he’ll never have enough. He kisses like a starved man, like he’ll devour you if you let him. 

You might. 

Suguru joins you both on the bed. “Now, now, Satoru, you’ll scare her off,” he jokes, pulling the white-haired man off you. You gasp for breath, and your jaw goes slack as you watch Suguru bring Satoru in for a kiss. The two men kiss in front of you, and never in a million years did you imagine that you’d end up here. Yet here you are.

Satoru moans into Suguru’s mouth before Suguru pulls away and kisses you again. Satoru moves down your legs, kissing your thighs. Your dress is pulled up to bunch around your waist, Satoru being much too impatient to remove it, as his thumb finds you clit through your undergarments and begins rubbing circles into the small bundle of nerves. You moan into Suguru’s mouth, burying your hands in his hair, as Satoru watches your every reaction from between your legs. 

“Sensitive little one, are you?” Suguru chuckles as he pulls away and caresses your cheek. “Let’s help you get this off, shall we?” Satoru gives your thigh one last kiss before you stand on wobbly legs and let Suguru help you remove your dress. He does so with care, kissing your nape as he unties the back. He goes to pull it off, but you cross your arms over your chest, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden. “You first,” you say, and Suguru doesn’t hesitate to pull off his tunic. You watch over your shoulder, taking in his impressive build. He’s covered with scars from jagged blades and swords, and you can’t help but want to kiss each one. Your eyes flicker towards Satoru, who’s staring at Suguru with equal hunger. You don’t doubt that he’s already kissed them all. 

Slowly, Suguru moves over to you and helps you shrug out of your dress until it’s in a puddle around your feet. You shrug your undergarments off as well, leaving you fully naked. The chill air in the tent caresses your body, leaving goosebumps all over. 

You turn around to find two pairs of eyes burning into you, running along every curve of your body. “You’re beautiful, little dove,” Suguru says, but it’s Satoru who makes the first move, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into the bed, straight onto his lap. “C’mere,” he rasps, and immediately attaches his mouth to your nipple, sucking on it. You gasp and bury your hands in his hair, tugging on his white locks. He flicks his tongue, grinning up at you as you grind down on him, chasing friction. 

You feel overwhelmed and hot all over as Suguru comes up behind Satoru, leaning in to capture your lips in yet another kiss. His hands roam under Satoru’s tunic, making him moan into your chest before he tugs at the bottom of his shirt. Satoru departs from your nipple, now wet with saliva, to help Suguru remove his tunic. Your jaw drops at his toned chest and milky skin. 

Satoru seems to light up the tent as he glows with health and sends you a bright smile, encouraging you to touch him. You roam your hands over his abs, and his chest, landing on his biceps. “Like what you see?” he asks, and you smile teasingly. “Hmm, I’ve seen better,” you reply, and Satoru gasps, putting a hand to his chest in dismay. 

“Who could you possibly–” Your eyes flicker to Suguru behind him, and Satoru grumbles slightly. “Fair enough,” 

It’s teasing as you grab Satoru’s chin and press a chaste kiss to his lips. And another. Right when he licks your bottom lip, you pull away again, letting him chase you before you kiss him again. 

“Oh, seems we have a tease on our hands, Satoru,” Suguru says. “Let’s change that, shall we?” Satoru merely hums, flashing you a set of pearly whites, before you’re flipped onto the bed. The two men loom over you as you’re splayed against the sheets, completely bare. With their full attention now on you, you feel like you’ve walked straight into the wolf’s jaw, leaving you completely vulnerable. 

Satoru grabs your knees, spreading your legs apart, and a delighted gasp leaves him. “Is this all for us, princess?” he asks, running a finger along your sopping cunt and gathering your slick. He flicks your clit before bringing his hand to Suguru’s mouth, who wraps his lips around Satoru’s digit. The sight is utterly sinful, and you moan, lips parted and completely speechless. 

Suguru releases Satoru’s finger with a pop, and he grins at you. “Tastes so sweet.” He grabs your thighs and pulls you in until his face is hovering right above your cunt. He blows on it slightly, and you moan.

The pretty little sounds you make, make Suguru let out a scoff, and you realise that Suguru is not as nice as he has been letting on. No, Suguru Geto is a cruel, cruel man. He attaches his mouth to your clit, and sucks, making you arch your back and moan out loud. Satoru chuckles beside you as he kisses you, swallowing up your moans, before he moves down, pressing kisses to your collarbone until he reaches your breasts. He sucks on your nipples, his eyes keenly watching your every reaction, while Suguru continues sucking on your clit, two fingers entering you. You gasp and writhe as he fucks you open on his fingers, slowly curling them to hit your G-spot. 

He continues his torture on your poor cunt, scissoring you open till you can practically taste your release on your tongue. Then he pulls away with a final kiss to your clit. You whine as your orgasm ebbs away. “No, what–” you go to complain, pouting at Suguru, who simply shakes his head. 

“Not yet, little dove,” Suguru says before he removes his bottoms, leaving him entirely nude in front of you. You gape at him, his pretty cock slapping against his stomach, leaking precum already. Satoru kisses your cheek before removing his bottoms as well. You’re now left with two pretty leaking cocks in front of you, and you go entirely mute. 

“Me first,” Satoru says. Suguru teasingly rolls his eyes, but nevertheless, he lets Satoru do as he’d like. You’re placed in Suguru’s lap, his cock sitting against your back, as he holds your legs spread for Satoru. 

Satoru sits in front of you, slowly running his tip along your weeping folds. It’s a cacophony of limbs and hands, and you feel hot all over. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. Suguru kisses your nape as Satoru’s cock finally catches your entrance. He groans slightly, pushing in. Three pairs of eyes are all locked on where the two of you connect. The stretch is borderline obscene. You struggle to stay sane as he pushes further in, swallow thrusts stretching you open. Satoru’s hand finds your clit, thumb rubbing firm circles to ease the pressure. “Relax for me, princess,” he says, and you whine, your head lolling over Suguru’s shoulder. “Gods, Toru, it’s so much,” you say, and Satoru whines, his cock twitching inside of you. 

“Doing so well, the both of you.” Suguru’s hands move from your legs to Satoru’s hips, pushing him all the way in. You stay like that for a while, bodies flush and hot against each other, before Satoru begins thrusting in and out, panting with each thrust. He kisses Suguru over your shoulder as you’re completely lost in the haze of pleasure, his tip repeatedly kissing your G-spot. 

Suguru soon grows impatient; the friction is not nearly enough. He kisses your neck and nibbles your earlobe, his breath hot against your ear. “Think you can take the both of us, princess?” You nod, letting Suguru press a kiss to your lips. At this moment, you think you’d do anything Suguru asked of you. You’re so completely under his spell as you let him lift you and slowly push into you, groaning at the feel of Satoru’s cock against his own. 

Satoru is a mess. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes lidded, and his hair more messy than ever. He watches where you’re all connected, a broken moan leaving him as he continues to fuck you. Suguru lifts your hips, moving you up and down on his length. It’s not long before you come apart on their cocks, having never felt so full before. Stretched to your limit, your walls pulse and clench around both of their cocks as your mouth opens in a silent scream. Suguru groans into your neck. “Yeah, let go for us, princess; there you go." With a voice soft as silk, he continues to bounce you up and down like a toy, chasing his own high. Satoru follows you promptly, having been on the edge for what felt like ages already. He spills into you, painting your walls white, instantly whining at the sensitivity as Suguru continues to use you. 

White globs of cum spill out of you as loud, squelching noises fill the room. You’d have half a mind to feel embarrassed if you weren’t so busy being split apart. Satoru pulls out and goes back to sucking on your breasts, flicking your nipples. It’s not long before Suguru comes as well, filling you up with his own cum. You’re utterly spent, slouching back against him. 

All three of your bodies are sweaty and sticky. Cum spills out of where you’re still sitting on Suguru’s cock. Your eyes are barely open. You feel utterly content as your body hums with the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Princess? You still with us?” Suguru asks, and Satoru detaches himself from your nipple, giving your cheek a kiss. You nod lazily. “Yeah, just... let me catch my breath,” you mumble, feeling your eyelids grow droopy. A deep laughter vibrates behind you as you slip away. 

“Play for us, Satoru.” Suguru’s voice is calm and soft, like silk. You feel a weight lift from the bed as Satoru gets out of bed. Sleepily, you open your eyes, watching as Satoru brings out a lyre. He sits down and runs his fingers over the strings, a small melody leaving the instrument. 

He looks beautiful, you think, and more like a god than ever. The small lamp lighting up the tent makes his skin glow, and his eyes look like the ocean. He plays for the two of you, and you allow yourself to melt into Suguru’s embrace as he absentmindedly traces patterns into your skin. 

Satoru is beauty and grace. It amazes you how hands capable of such killing are now producing the most beautiful melodies you’ve ever heard. Suguru kisses the top of your head, and you look up, meeting purple eyes as he sends you a small smile. 

At this moment, you feel completely content. If this is your life from now on, then so be it. Which is why you let Suguru grab your chin and kiss you, your lips moving against one another as music fills the small tent. 

You sleep in Satoru and Suguru’s tent after that night, lodged in between the two men. Satoru will wrap his arms around you, burying his face in your chest as your back is pressed against Suguru’s chest, and he’ll wrap an arm around the both of you. You sleep better than you have in months. You think less and less of your old life, of your husband and brothers, yet guilt gnaws in your chest on other nights. 

It’s weird how one night can change everything. Something in the dynamic has shifted. You’re no longer a prisoner or slave; you can leave whenever you’d like, yet you choose not to. Satoru knows it too. He is gentler with you, often bringing you in for hugs or making you sit in his lap. He’ll play with your hair or your fingers, and run his hands over your body. 

You let him. 

Suguru is the same as ever. He’s always been kind, and he remains so, yet it doesn’t take long for your little bubble to break. 

The plague comes before you know it. It starts with the rats. There’s always been rats at the camp; it’s only natural. However, dead rats are a whole other thing. And they’re everywhere. It’s not long before the men begin to get sick as well. Horribly sick. 

You burn pyre after pyre, building new tents where the sick can lay, but it’s not nearly enough. Men are falling like rats, one after another. You go to help Shoko, a priestess of Artemis and expert at making remedies, but even she can’t do anything. 

“It’s not natural,” she says one night, as you tend to a young man. She looks up at you, and you meet her tired eyes as she gives you a blank look. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” 

“It’s because of him,” Satoru says one night. You’re lying with your head in Suguru’s lap, eyes closed, as his hand traces patterns into your back. You feel Suguru tense underneath you, his patterns momentarily stopping before he resumes. 

“I talked with the priest. It’s definitely a punishment,” Satoru continues. Suguru sighs. You do your best to lay still, pretending to be asleep. 

“We don’t know that for sure, Satoru,” Suguru replies, and you can hear the way Satoru begins pacing the room in annoyance. 

“Yes, we do! He refused to give the girl back. All of a sudden, there’s a plague? What else could it be?” Suguru shushes Satoru, and you can tell he’s motioning to you. 

“What are you going to do then? You can’t just kill Yoshinobu.” Suguru says in a hushed voice. There’s a long silence. 

“I could,” Satoru says, this time in a lower voice. “I could at least confront him,” he adds, and you feel him nearing closer. The two men kiss above you, and you snuggle closer to Suguru. 

“The old man is too prideful for his own good,” Satoru says eventually, and Suguru lets out a chuckle that makes vibrations run through you. 

“Yeah. Now come back to bed. You can confront him some other time.” 

“Hey, are you awake?”

“Nobara? What’s going on?”

Nobara peeks in at you from the door through the tent. You stretch your limbs and sit up in the bed where you've been napping.

“You need to get up,” she says as a matter of fact, and you oblige, getting out of bed. You slip on your dress and fix your hair as best you can before walking towards her. Nobara has a sort of unreadable expression, and you furrow your brows in worry. “What’s going on?” you repeat, and she gives you a solemn look. 

“Come with me.” 

You stumble out through the camp, closely behind Nobara as she grips your hand. She keeps her gaze forward, and there’s a sickening feeling settling in your stomach. 

“They’re fighting,” she says. You frown. 

“Who?” you ask, and Nobara shakes her head. 

“I was washing clothes when Maki came running.” She looks back at you now. “The green-haired girl from Itadori’s camp,” she explains, and you nod, having seen her around.

You walk for a while until you realise that you’re going to Yoshinobu’s camp. “What’s going on?” you ask again, and Nobara pales slightly. 

“Remember when they sacked Apollo’s temple a couple of days ago?” You nod. Satoru was proud when he came home. He’d kissed your cheek and given you a necklace with a small coin and a lyre engraved in it. You were still wearing it. 

“Well, they brought a girl as well. Miwa. She’s a priestess of Apollo,” Nobara further explains, and you feel your heart tighten. “Yoshinobu claimed her. A couple of days later, Miwa’s father, also a priest of Apollo, came and offered gold to get her back. Yoshinobu refused.” 

You feel yourself grow sick. Apollo isn’t only the god of the sun and poetry. He’s also the god of healing and diseases. You remember Shoko’s words. It’s not natural. No, it’s a punishment for Yoshinobu for not giving Miwa back to her father. 

“So what are we gonna do? Yoshinobu has to give her back, right? It’s only right.” You reply. Maybe if Yoshinobu relents, Apollo will draw back his punishment. 

“Yes, that’s why they’re fighting,” Nobara replies. Your brows furrow. 

“Who’s fighting, Nobara?” Nobara doesn’t answer. 

Ice fills your veins when you get there. Men are everywhere, whispering and gathering around the podium, usually used to make encouraging speeches before a battle. You both push your way through the crowd until you’re close enough to see and hear what’s happening. 

Satoru looks beautiful, as he always does. In comparison to Yoshinobu’s frail build, he looks like a god, standing tall and proud on the podium. 

Yuuta, a priest, stands between them, looking more pale than ever. “Tell me, Yuuta, what is the reason for this plague that’s been bestowed upon us?” Satoru’s voice cuts through the crowd. 

Yuuta’s eyes dart between Yoshinobu and Satoru, and sweat beads down his forehead. You’re glad to not be in his position as Yoshinobu glares daggers into the young man, and Satoru calmly smiles at him. 

Satoru puts a hand on Yuuta’s shoulder and sends him a reassuring smile that you know would’ve made your knees weak had it been directed towards you. It seemingly has the same effect on Yuuta because he visibly calms down, although he’s still tense. 

“I promise you that if you speak the truth now, I will protect you with my life. Do not be afraid,” Satoru says. Men around you murmur to each other, but no one dares intervene, all nervously watching the scene unfold before them. 

“The god of the sun, Apollo, is angry,” Yuuta says, his voice coming out frail. “The plague is a punishment,” he adds, and whispers spread through the crowd. 

“As if we didn’t already know that,” a man beside you says under his breath, and Nobara snickers. Her hand is clutched in yours, and you give her a small squeeze. 

“And why is the god angry?” Satoru asks, and Yuuta somehow grows paler. He glances at Yoshinobu before staring at his hands again. 

He says something under his breath that none of you can hear and Yoshinobu huffs. “Speak up, boy,” he complains, and Yuuta frowns. 

“The god is angry because you took the girl and ignored her father's wishes for her to return,” Yuuta says. Satoru smiles victoriously. “The priest came on behalf of the god, and you insulted him to his face. Return the girl to her father or continue to suffer the consequences.”

Your brows fly up, and the crowd goes silent. “Didn’t know he had guts like that,” Nobara whispers. Satoru forward and turns to the crowd. 

“Well, there you have it, my good men. Yoshinobu simply needs to return the girl, and the plague will cease,” Satoru says. You watch Yoshinobu’s face go red with anger as he clenches his fists. 

“I will not,” Yoshinobu says, and once again, men begin talking to each other. You look around. Many of them look angry, with clenched fists and furrowed brows. They have seen their brothers and friends die, and they are clearly not happy that Yoshinobu is refusing to give Miwa back to her father. 

Satoru looks equally angry as he turns to Yoshinobu. Yoshinobu merely smiles. It’s clear he’s about to go on a rampage, but Yoshinobu speaks again before Satoru can do anything.

“Alright. I’ll give up my girl.” pleased murmurs run through the crowd. Yoshinobu’s smile drops. 

“But it’s not fair that I have to go without a girl. Since you’re so insistent that I should give up mine, it only makes sense that you give up yours as well, doesn’t it, Gojo?”

A challenge. It’s as clear as day. You feel your heart sink into your stomach. Satoru’s eye twitches. You wait for him to take on the challenge. To say no. To do anything, really. Nobara squeezes your hand. 

Satoru doesn’t do anything. He simply nods. 

You wait in his tent until Satoru comes back. He barely looks at you as he makes a beeline for the wine standing on the table. You feel a lump in your throat as you watch him pour the wine, downing the cup's contents immediately afterwards. 

“You’re going to let them take me,” you say, as a matter of fact, and Satoru stills. He stares at his empty cup, and you nod slowly, a scoff escaping you. 

“I can’t believe you,” you say, and Satoru frowns, finally looking up to meet you. Ice blue pierces through you as he runs a hand through his messy hair. 

“It’s not that simple,” he replies, and you laugh. It’s a hollow sound, devoid of emotion. 

“You’re the strongest, aren’t you? If you wanted to stop them, you could.”

“It’s not just about who’s the strongest. Yoshinobu is the king; if I don’t follow his command, I’m directly challenging him. What I did earlier today was already out of line. 

Ah. Men and their honour. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. Honour is what started this whole thing, is it not? Yet you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought something had shifted between you and Satoru. That you were somehow equal. He had let you leave, and you had chosen to stay. 

“What about me, Satoru?” you ask. One last attempt to save yourself. Satoru pours himself some more wine. His back is turned to you. 

“Yoshinobu won’t hurt you. Just go with his men.”

You were wrong. You were never Satoru’s equal. Satoru Gojo doesn’t have equals. He only has inferiors. 

Suguru finds you as you’re packing your belongings. At least you’re pretending to. Everything you own has been gifted to you by Satoru, which now leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. “Princess,” he gasps, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind and his head settling on your shoulder. You stare ahead at the dresses in front of you. 

“I tried talking to him; I promise you we’ll find a way to get you back. Satoru just needs to swallow his honour–” You scoff and remove Suguru’s arms from you, sitting down on your bed. You haven’t slept in it for weeks.

Suguru looks pained as he kneels in front of you, gripping your hands in your lap. “I’ll help you. It’s not fair that this happened to you; if Gojo marries you, then they can’t–”

“Suguru,” you smile and squeeze his hands. “It’s alright. My life’s never been fair. There’s nothing you can do.” 

Nobara’s head slips into the tent, eyes darting between the two of you. “They’re here,” she says, and you nod, getting up. You glance at the countless dresses and decide to leave them behind. They were never yours to begin with anyway. 

Two men escort you to Yoshinobu’s camp. They look terrified, constantly glancing around, taking in their surroundings, but Satoru merely watches as you’re led away from his camp. 

The rest is a blur. You’re confined to your own tent, made to wear extravagant gowns and heavy jewellery, and paraded around like a batch of honour. You feel sick. Yoshinobu has little to no interest in you, barely glancing your way. You serve wine at his dinners now, and besides that, you sit in your tent and count the hours. It’s a boring existence compared to the one you got used to at the old camp. Yoshinobu already has concubines who've been with him since the war started. They don’t take much notice of you, mostly ignoring your presence as everyone else does. 

Nobara manages to visit you once, updating you on what’s going on outside of your tiny tent. Satoru is refusing to fight. He spends his days much like you, sulking in his tent and ignoring everyone. 

No one knows what’s happening, but the war has suddenly turned. The Greeks are losing repeatedly against the Trojans, who are pushing them back closer and closer to where you’re settled on the beach. 

It’s all a mess. 

Your anger towards Satoru only grows stronger the longer you’re left behind. A small slither of hope had remained in you—that he’d somehow come to his senses, suck up his pride, and come get you. Yet he’s stubbornly decided to be a child yet again. 

You lay on your bed, staring at the ceiling when you hear a sudden noise outside your tent. 

“Princess? You in here?” 

“Suguru,” you gasp as he walks into the tent. You immediately stand up and throw your arms around the man. He returns the hug, holding you close as you sink into his embrace. He runs his hands through your hair and cups your cheeks. Purple eyes examine you from head to toe, concern etched into them. 

“Are you alright? Has he touched you?” Suguru asks, and you shake your head, intertwining your fingers with his. “No, I’m alright. I don’t think the old man could even if he wanted to,” you jest, and Suguru frowns, shaking his head.

A silence dawns upon you, and you clear your throat, shame overtaking you as you remember how you left him. Suguru looks horrible. His long hair falls down over his shoulders, and bangs fall in front of his eyes. And his eyes, oh his eyes. Usually filled with nothing but kindness, they’re now circled by dark bags. It’s clear he hasn’t been sleeping. 

“Suguru, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you.” Despite it all, Suguru smiles. It’s a tired smile and a clear facade, but you let him. 

“No, I’m sorry. I tried to convince Satoru to not let them take you, but he’s so stubborn-”

“It’s fine, Sugu. It’s not your fault,” you interrupt as you grab his face and kiss his nose. “They treat me well. It’s clearly not about me and more a show of honour and power,” you say, and Suguru frowns deeply. He avoids your eyes, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“What is it?” you ask. 

“Satoru is still refusing to fight,” he says, and grief floods his face. “We’re losing the war.” 

His hands tremble in yours, and you stare in bewilderment, not knowing what to do with the broken man in front of you. 

“I just wish he would do something! All that power, and he refuses to use it.” He sounds angry now. “The strongest, and what does he do with it? Nothing!” His gaze softens as you flinch at his tone, having never seen this side of him before. 

“I’m going to fix things, okay? I have a plan. And then you can return home to us.” 

Suguru hugs you for the last time and sends you a smile. He kisses you before slipping out of the tent. You watch him from the door as he disappears into the camp. If you had known that this was the last time you’d see Suguru, you would have begged him to stay with you. Told him that Satoru’s honour wasn't something worth dying for. 

But you didn’t know. How could you? He was Suguru; he was Satoru’s rock; he was your rock. In your eyes, he seemed invincible. Nothing could ever truly harm Suguru Geto. 

You hear the yelling before you hear anything else. Loud, confused, screaming. People are running around the camp, and no one notices when you slip out of the tent to see what is happening. Your heart drops to your chest as you see Satoru’s lifeless body being carried by several men. Among them, you recognise Nanami. 

You go to help, but then Satoru’s helmet slips off, and you stop in your tracks. Long black hair spills down the man's shoulders. You look towards your old camp to see a white-haired man running out of his tent and towards the stumbling men. 

Slowly, you look back and forth between the two. Your heart jumps to your throat as you realise what has happened. 

Suguru Geto is dead. 

wow, things are getting heated, things are getting wild. how do we feel? :3

btw, the scene where satoru confronts yoshinobu is entirely from memory of when i read the iliad in school in january. (where achilles confronts agamemnon) i didn't feel like going back and rereading the scene, lol, it's a tough read, but i feel like i managed to capture it pretty well. also, this is fan fiction so i can do whatever i want. (insert maniacal laughter here.)

and yuuta is a priest of apollo, which i feel like goes well with his character! especially because in jjk 0 yuuta is caught between the higher ups and satoru, which he also is here!! hee hee, look at me go. (would that make rika apollo?? nooo, i'm gonna stop now, sorry.)

thank you for reading! <3

chapter three -> series masterlist | general masterlist

wave divider by cafekitsune | fish divider by me! :D

[azsazz]

Letting Loose

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: How do you think daddy az and mommy reader would react if Zuzu went on her first date ever. Imagine how chaotic it would be, the whole family plus Rhys and cass’s fam stand behind her as her date walks up to her.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1880

Notes: I've missed the babies 💙💙

_________________________________________

“Tone the brooding down, mate,” you hiss to Azriel, who’s seething where he stands next to you. Azriel’s wearing that familiar face that screams murder, and his fingers keep twitching, itching to reach for the familiar knife sheathed at his hip.

To dispel the urge, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t like him.”

“You don’t even know the boy,” you tut, peering around the corner to where Zuzu keeps peeking out the curtains of the front bay windows of your home, eagerly awaiting her date.

It’s the quietest you’ve seen her, most nervous too. She’d allowed you and your second youngest, Malos, into her room while she prepared for the date, even letting you help her choose the perfect outfit. You could tell that Malos would have rather been anywhere else, goading Baz into a sword fight or Wren into chess, but even she seemed to sense your eldest daughters’ nerves. Malos even attempted to offer advice, which was quickly waved away by Zuzu, claiming that she hadn’t needed any advice at all.

An outright lie, because she stopped you on your way out the door, bashfully asking how your first date with Azriel went, her cheeks red with embarrassment from thinking about the both of you like that.

“Don’t need to,” Azriel mutters and you shoot a hot thrash of annoyance through your mating bond, berating him for his ill-willed words. You watch your mate flinch in his seat, looking up at you with those innocent hazel eyes and the look makes you want to roll yours. It’s accompanied by a cool feeling of an apology, knowing that if he doesn’t cut it out, he’s going to be in the doghouse tonight. “Sorry, my love. I just don’t like the thought of Zuzu…” He trails off like he can barely manage the word at all.

“Dating?” You question, eyebrows raised. Azriel’s eyebrows pull tight into a scowl again, quickly smoothing into that neutral stoicism that any of your children can recreate at the drop of a pin. It’s made figuring out which of the six was responsible for each mess they managed to get themselves into, but as their mother, you can see right through those masks they wear. You are married to the spymaster of the Night Court, after all.

“Please, don’t remind me,” Azriel groans, and he sounds like he’s taken an ash arrow to the delicate skin of his wings, which flex behind him. Such babies, these Illyrian males are. It makes you wish you hadn’t mentioned it to him like Zuzu pleaded you not to. “I can’t fathom it. She’s not old enough.”

You wish you’d requested the presence of Feyre and Nesta.

“She is,” you insist, keeping your voice low so your daughter doesn’t hear. “Your attitude isn’t helping the situation either, Azriel. Zuzu’s already a mess of nerves. Do you think that if she overheard you loathing the male that she’s smitten over that wouldn’t affect her in any way?” Maybe he’s hoping that it does.

“You’re right, my love,” Azriel sighs. He stands from his chair, crossing the room to where you stand and pulling you into his arms. “I’m just worried, is all.”

“Well, worry quieter,” you answer, squeezing him just as tightly. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the unsteady beat of his heart, riddled with worry. He has nothing to fret over, he’s made sure that Zuzu is better trained than any Illyrian warrior. Plus, she’s not even going on a date with a camp-goer, but instead a male born and raised in the heart of Velaris, whom you’ve heard nothing but good about. You might have done a little digging of your own when your daughter told you of this date, asking around town about the boy. Azriel isn’t the only sneaky one in your family. “If I had known how much you’d be sulking once I got to know you, I wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, shadowsingers,” An all too familiar voice drawls. You jump in surprise, fingers tightening in the back of your mate’s shirt. They clench for an entirely different reason when you turn, seeing not only the High Lord of the Night Court standing in your kitchen, but with the army of his family and the Lord of Bloodshed’s as well. “Are we too late?”

“Just on time,” Azriel responds, trying to keep his mask of cool in place when you pinch him with a knowing look. One night on the couch wouldn’t hurt, he supposes.

On a brush of night-chilled wind, the rest of your children appear, the shadows swirling around the twins’ feet noting them of their extended family’s arrival.

You don’t miss the look of yearning Asteria gives an unknowing Wren.

You can’t wait to see how Azriel and Rhysand will react to that.

“What are you doing here?” Malos asks, snagging a pear from the bowl in the center of the island. She hops up onto the stone and unsheathes her knife, similar to Azriel’s beloved Truth-Teller, taking the blade to the fruit and eating the slice straight from the weapon.

You grimace, not wanting to know the places that blade has been.

“We’re seeing your sister off, of course,” Cassian scoffs, “Not that it’s any of your business, little miss.” He teases, snagging the next slice of fruit from the tip of her blade with the ease of a warrior well-honed for centuries. Had he been a lesser general, the knife would’ve gone straight through his hand.

You don’t even have it in you to scold your daughter.

“It’s entirely my business,” Malos retorts with a glare. You know that look she wears, and before you can scold her, she’s commanding her shadows away from Knox and tripping her uncle on his way around the corner of the counter. Cassian isn’t quick enough to see it coming, smug in thinking that he’s had the last laugh, but Malos is never one to give up.

He crashes down with a yowl to rival a Helcat’s, and it isn’t long before Zuzu is bursting into the packed kitchen, her mouth agape, her hazel eyes furious.

“What is going on in here?” She screeches, scowling at everyone except for Asteria who immediately glues herself to Zuzu’s side in a reassuring hug. Your daughters face softens slightly as she embraces her best friend, but her face returns to that rivaling your own when you’re scolding your children when she turns back to the rest of the family. “What on the continent are you all doing here?”

She looks to you, helpless and embarrassed, and the only thing that you can offer her in return is a sympathetic, sad smile.

 In a family this large and tight knit, it’s inevitable that they’d pry.

“I think the real question is why are you wearing that of all things?” Baz teases, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter, looking like he’d rather be out on the town himself.

Normally, your children would go bat for bat with each other, but Zuzu must be more nervous than she’s trying to let on because her cheeks go crimson and she fists the long skirt in her hands, her eyes frantic. “What’s wrong with it? Is it too much?”

Her wings jostle at her back as if they’re begging to be shook, to expel the pent-up energy.

“Basil, go to your room,” you scold, ignoring your second eldest son’s groan of pain when Wren smacks him upside the head. You’re moving across the room toward your daughter, and you don’t like it either, the feeling of every single family members eyes on you as you place your arm on her shoulder in a consoling manner. “Zuz, come with me, baby.”

You guide her back into the front room where she was peering out the curtains in excitement only moments ago. Now, her shoulders are deflated, and her chin is downturned to the floor, hiding her sad eyes behind the draping black hair that reaches her waist.

It’s not a look you’ve seen often on your eldest daughter. She’s confident to a fault, but right now, she looks like she might just crumble.

“Don’t listen to your brother,” you say, sitting her on the plush loveseat and taking the spot next to her. You hold her hand in your own and when she refuses to look your way, you tip her chin up, forcing her eyes to yours. “He’s just jealous because he doesn’t have a date tonight and is stuck here, hanging out with your father and I.” It garners a short puff of laughter from your daughter. “You look beautiful, Zuz.”

“You really think so?” She asks, and you can see the lingering worry lining her iris’.

“Picked it out myself, didn’t I?” You ask incredulously, and thankfully, Zuzu cracks a smile.

“Mom,” Zuz whines playfully, cheeks tinging pink. Then softer, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Zuz. I’m sorry about everyone showing up unannounced but I can promise you that your father will be hearing about it,” you say, emphasizing your words with a flare down the bond and a glare at the shadows creeping in the corners of the room. They disperse quickly at your words. “All you need to do is go have fun.”

Zuzu’s grin is beaming, her hazel eyes shining with delight. “I really like him, mom.”

“I know you do, sweetie,” you match her smile, patting her gently on the hand. She launches herself into your arms, squeezing you tightly.

A knock on the door startles the both of you away from each other and when your daughter pulls back you catch the quick glimpse of her nerves again before she’s taking a calming breath her aunt taught her and collects herself, looking like the prideful daughter you know her as.

“You better go answer the door,” you muse, “Before your father or one of your uncles gets to it first.”

She curses, springing from the couch and is gone in a rush of wind, calling out to the house as she rips the door open, “Wish me luck! Love you all even though half of you shouldn’t be here!”

Before anyone can respond to Zuzu’s goodbye, she’s out the door. And just like that, she’s on her first date.

Azriel slinks into the room, collapsing on the couch beside you. He knows that he has some groveling to do, if your glare is any sign, but right now he just wants to wallow. This is much harder than it was when Baz went on his first date. And second. And eighth.

“I still don’t like this,” he mutters, peeking out from behind the curtain and watching your daughter walk down the street with her date. “I should send some shadows with her.”

“You should leave her alone,” you retort with a roll of your eyes, pushing from the couch. You offer your mate a hand. You can berate him later for his actions, but now that Zuzu’s gone, you can’t ignore your own feeling panging in your chest. The one where you realize that your children really are growing up, and fast. “And you should go entertain your guests.”

[littlejuicebox]

Mermaid whiskey.

Pairing: Spawn Astarion x F!Reader/Tav Summary/Setting: 2 weeks after BG3 final battle, Elfsong Tavern / Astarion has been ignoring you and spending too much time reading for your tastes, you aim to distract him. Rating/Warnings: M+ / Smut / Light BDSM / Soft Dom Astarion vibes / Some mild in game spoilers/allusions to events / Overstimulation, Teasing, Bondage, Blindfolding etc Word Count: 4.3K Notes: Tequila Makes Her Clothes Fall Off x Whiskey Girl

-----

Two weeks after the final battle, Astarion is lounging by the crackling fireplace on the upper level of the Elfsong Tavern, a large goblet of red wine in one hand and a book in the other.

Everyone else spent time after the battle exploring the city or downstairs drinking and celebrating their victory as they all prepared to move onto new adventures. But Astarion had chosen nearly every opportunity over the past two weeks to hang back and enjoy some much-deserved alone time. Now that the constant worries about Cazador and the overall impending doom of Baldur’s Gate were all behind him, the rogue threw himself into finding bits of individual enjoyment whenever and wherever he could. He'd fixated himself on hobbies and leisure, and reading had seemed an obvious first choice. He'd easily idle hours away, sometimes reading an entire book cover to cover in one sitting.

Often, you would sit with the elf as he read, snuggled in a blanket or cuddled up against your love, but eventually you always got the urge to get up and do something else. You'd tried on more than one occasion to interest the rogue in another activity, but Astarion remained glued to the couch for those two weeks, barely stepping away to hunt, bathe, or trance. You'd noted, with a bit of concern, that he hadn't even asked to feed on you in more than a tenday.

Tonight, you’d tried more than once to pull him down to the tavern, but the elf quickly refused, barely lifting his eyes from the pages in front of him. Astarion seemed particularly obsessed with this book; you were almost convinced he’d already finished it and had started a second reading.

Several hours passed while you socialized down at the bar and Astarion's perfect nose stayed wedged in a book before a very tipsy Karlach decided to climb the stairs and speak to the vampire. “Oi! C’mon, Astarion! Close that dusty tome and join the fun. We’ll all only be together for a few more days. Me, Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Tav are taking shots!”

The vampire’s ears perk up and he furrows his brow at the woman, snapping his book shut in the process. “Shots? Of what, exactly?”

“Mermaid Whiskey!”

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no! Karlach! Mermaid Whiskey practically makes Tav’s clothes fall off!”

Astarion is on his feet now, the book abandoned as he rushes past the Tiefling and down the flight of stairs into the tavern. He quickly spots the silky blue bandana you use to tie your hair up at camp strewn upon a forgotten bar stool. Knowing it’s possibly your most prized article of clothing, the elf tucks it into his back pocket. Scarlet eyes perform a hurried scan of the room and the vampire bristles when you’re nowhere to be found.

The others are still at the bar, where Lae’zel just challenged a bartender to an arm-wrestling competition. The women warriors are cheering Lae’zel on as she’s locked in a stalemate with the man.

“Shadowheart, have you seen Tav?”

Shadowheart barely acknowledges the vampire, too engrossed in the show. “What do you mean? She’s right—“ Her gaze flicks to the abandoned stool as Lae’zel successfully slams the worker’s hand onto the sticky bar, causing the campmates and some other patrons to erupt into cheers. “She was right there a moment ago.”

Astarion runs a stressed hand through his curled hair, inspecting the room for any sign of you. Soon enough, he spots a familiar pair of shoes and hurries to them, eyes already searching for the next clue. A discarded earring floating in a glass of half-drunk whiskey is sat on the bottom step of the stairs. That hadn’t been there when he descended down them, had it?

The vampire’s gaze trails up the stairwell and his suspicions are confirmed. Your navy-blue dress is draped across the back of an armchair he can barely see from his low vantage point.

‘She must’ve snuck around when I was talking to Shadowheart.’

The rogue dashes up the stairs to find you reclined on a chaise lounge, body flushed from the whiskey coursing through your veins. You are strewn suggestively across the chaise, clothed in only your laced undergarments and thigh high stockings. The alluring vision caused Astarion's heart to leap into his throat.

“Darling, what on earth do you think you’re you doing? You’re barely clothed in the middle of the tavern. This isn’t the wilds anymore.”

You’re lying on your side when Astarion finds you, and you pout in his direction as he scolds you, waving a dismissive hand. You roll onto your stomach, bending your knees and crossing your legs. You’re pleased to see the vampire's gaze drag down your body, pausing at the curve of your bottom, before flitting back to your face. Astarion licks his lips as he looks at you, the first sign that your little plan is working. You’ve finally gotten his attention after trying to steal him away from that damned book he was so enamored with all night.

“I know my love, but I’m just so unbelievably hot right now. You wouldn’t believe how hot I feel.”

Astarion quickly crosses the few feet between you two, placing a cool, concerned hand on your flushed cheek. “How many shots did you take?”

“Oh, just two. Maybe three? I kept losing the stupid ‘never have I ever game’ because everyone made all their questions about vampires.” You pout at your lover again before turning your head to press your lips against his thumb, lingering there intentionally, your wide eyes still focused on the rogue.

Astarion was no fool. With your mouth holding his thumb in that suggestive manner, he soon realized what you were doing. You adored the vampire with your entire heart, but on your drunken nights, you knew how to be a perfectly tempting, needy little brat. “And why, my sweet, did you keep playing the game if it was so clearly rigged against you?”

You groan, moving to a sitting position, while your hands toy with the laces of your bodice. “Because…” You sharply tug at the flouncy strings and Astarion’s hand catches yours in a tight grip, moments before you’re about to expose your breasts in the center of the lounge. “You’ve barely paid attention to me the past two weeks… and I was lonely and bored and wanted to have fun.”

“Darling, I know what you’re doing... I thought we agreed that tonight you’d go to the bar, and I would stay up here.” Astarion murmurs, nimble fingers toying with the strings of your bodice. He tries to resist the temptation to look down at your cleavage and fails; you see his eyes roll up in annoyance at himself and his inability to fight off his baser instincts in your presence. Inside you’re practically giddy that you’re winning the charade, but you keep the pout plastered to your face.

“We didn’t agree to anything, my Star. You didn't give me a choice.” You huff, pointedly brushing your hair away from your neck to reveal the little pinprick scars made by your lover. The rogue's eyes trail to the marks and he licks his lips again, suddenly quite aware of how long it’s been since he’s sunk his fangs into your flesh.

Gods you were frustrating. Astarion both loathed and loved that you could play him like a lyre; you knew him so well that you understood exactly what would make him tick. Every. Single. Time.

The vampire shakes his head, trying to rattle the fantasies out of his brain and not allow you the upper hand. You were being ridiculous; if you’d wanted attention, you should’ve just asked instead of acting out. Trying to turn the conversation, Astarion asks, “What is it you even like about whiskey? It’s vile.”

You sigh and roll your eyes before sliding off the chaise and sauntering away from the elf. For a moment you think he’s going to let you leave, but then he’s trailing after you like a lost puppy and you know you've got him hooked.

“Excuse me? You’re just going to walk away? Conversation over?”

You shrug and sigh again, stopping just in front of the door to your bedchamber. You turn to face the rogue, leaning back against the door and crossing your arms. Astarion’s eyes are narrowed as he stares at you with some level of frustration and incredulity at your antics.

“If you must know, I suppose I like a bit of edge… and a bit of pain with my pleasure.” Your voice is coy, eyebrow raised, and you're fully leaning into the innuendo of your statement. “And you like that I like it... don’t you?”

Astarion chuckles at this, a smirk ghosting his lips. “You are a wicked little thing, aren’t you? Using my own games and my own tactics against me now?”

You’re wearing a mischievous grin as the rouge saunters forward, closing the distance between your bodies. He firmly grasps your chin in his hand, scarlet eyes studying your face. Just as his lips brush against yours, and you're thinking you've won this little game, you murmur, “I guess the apprentice has become the master.”

Astarion pauses and draws back for a moment, the darkening of his gaze and his raised eyebrow causing you to shudder where you stand as he grips a bit tighter on your chin. “Oh darling. You’re cute. But now I think I have to teach you a lesson and remind you who the master truly is here.”

And then his lips are on yours, fangs clashing roughly into teeth. He feels for the knob behind you and turns it, forcing you both into the room before unceremoniously slamming the door closed. Your mouths are melded together as the vampire effortlessly guides you to the bed and shoves you into the mattress. Quick, pale hands tug at the strings of your bodice and your breasts are released from their confines, spilling out in front of the vampire’s eager gaze as he drags the undergarment off your arms and throws it aside.

Then Astarion grabs something from his back pocket — your blue bandana — and dangles it in front of you with a mock-condescending pout on his lips. All you can think about in that moment is how you want to take that pout into your own lips and bite.

“Darling, you left this downstairs and I had to retrieve it. I think I may need to teach you to take care of your belongings. You only have two of these, my love, and I know you would be so desperate to find them if they were permanently lost, wouldn’t you?”

You nod as you reach for your bandana, but Astarion is faster and pulls it away just in time, smirking at you all the while. “Come to think of it… where is your other bandana, my sweet?”

"It's in here." You murmur, lips already swollen from the rough kiss he'd pulled you into. You turn to the nightstand and withdraw your second bandana, an identical twin to the first. Astarion quickly takes it from your hand and grins mischievously, pressing a soft kiss to your lips as the silken fabric glides from your fingers.

“Good girl. Now, give me your hands.”

You oblige and the rogue deftly binds your wrists together with an expertly tied knot. He tugs at the bindings, testing their strength. Astarion lifts your hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of one before taking the second bandana and folding it into a long strip. Your eyes are fixated on his lithe fingers. Then he presses forward, face mere inches from yours. His eyes are dark and intense, but glimmering with adoration all the same, in a way that floods you with the overwhelming sensation of excitement and safety all in one.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much, won't you, my love?”

“Y-yes.” You whisper, almost breathlessly and wholly impatient for what is coming next. Your body still burns with desire and Mermaid Whiskey. The last thing you see is Astarion’s eyes before the second bandana shrouds you in darkness.

Cool hands guide you to lay back onto the mattress and soon enough long, nimble fingers languidly trace their way down your body. You feel Astarion’s hands ghost over your arms, down your collarbone, and then trail circles around your breasts where he gives both nipples a gentle, teasing tug before moving on. His fingers brush your abdomen, around the curve of your hips, down the tops of your thighs, and finally to your calves. Then his lips press to your foot, and he works at pressing feather light kisses up your leg.

He continues kissing up your right leg for what seems like forever, fingers still moving tantalizingly along your calf and thigh. By the time the vampire makes his way back up to the top of your thigh, you are wiggling and keening in anticipation. He hovers over your still-clothed mound for a few beats before shifting slightly and returning to kissing down your left leg. You whine in disappointment, your bound hands straining against the fabric as you try to grip your lover. A dark chuckle is all you get in response as Astarion continues to kiss your opposing thigh, nibbling here and there, at a rate that seems somehow even slower than the first leg he worshipped.

By the time he’s placing a kiss to the top of your left foot, you’re writhing wholeheartedly, pressing your thighs together in an attempt to give yourself more stimulation. You don’t dare use your bound hands, knowing the punishment would be further binding and teasing. Astarion unhurriedly runs his hands up your legs once again, stopping to draw leisurely circles at the apex of your thighs before tracing one chilled finger along the waistband of your underwear.

“A-Astarion!” You choke out with another whine, just as the vampire runs that same finger down your still-clothed slit, feeling the wetness now soaking through the fabric from his torments.

Your lover chuckles in dark delight. “I’ve barely even touched you, my needy little love, and yet here you are, positively soaked. Your lesson is far from over, darling.”

There is a moment of silence apart from soft rustling; you cannot see anything, but your ears pick up the sound of Astarion’s buckle coming undone. And then you feel his weight on top of you. You can tell he’s still wearing his briefs as he presses his groin against your sex, legs straddling either side of your hips. Suddenly you feel a sharp pinch on both your nipples. Your back arches in response to the sensation while a pleading groan shoots from your mouth.

“Mm… I think you quite like that, don’t you?”

“Y-yes!” Is all you can reply as you feel Astarion's cold hands kneading the flesh of your breasts before he resumes pinching the swollen buds.

You try to buck your hips, but the bastard knows what he’s doing, and he’s got you pinned perfectly beneath him in a way that renders you all but helpless. Your bound hands search for Astarion’s body, and you barely graze against his abdominals before the vampire rips your hands away with a little tut, laying nearly all his body weight atop you as he raises your hands up over your head. You can feel his breath against your ear before he takes the lobe in his mouth and nibbles. Gods the torture was becoming unbearable. You buck again, another frustrated whine escaping your lips.

“Shhh now, darling. Shame we don’t have a third bandana or you would be gagged. We are quite impatient today, aren’t we?”

You whimper as he continues the abuse to your ear before trailing his tongue down to your neck. “My little whiskey girl…” His lips hover over that familiar little spot on your neck, his breath tickling your skin. Your pulse jumps to greet your lover. “May I?”

You barely nod, “Yes. Please.”

Astarion groans at your response, thrusting his hips forward to press his rock-hard bulge into your folds. You feel a sharp, icy sting in your neck before your body gives way to the delectable ripples of pleasure. The vampire laps from you lazily, rutting against your mound, the still-clothed underside of his cock sawing torturously between the folds of your still-clothed but now dripping slit. He continues suckling, not really drinking for sustenance but more for his own pleasure, his hardening member abusing your swollen clit. You’re keening again, and one of his hands moves to tease your nipple while the other gets lost in your hair, holding you in place as he takes his lazy laps.

“A-Astarion. Astarion! Please, I’m gonna—“

But before you can finish, you feel the wave of pleasure crashing over you and your legs are trembling as you find your release. The elf groans again as you orgasm, now suckling and rutting with more fervor as the taste of your ecstasy courses through your veins. When the crescendo wanes and you’re left panting, Astarion retracts his fangs from your neck with a pleased little hum.

Suddenly the bandana is pulled from your eyes, and you blink, adjusting to the light. The vampire is still straddling you, an arrogant smirk plastered across his face as he wipes the final rivet of blood from his mouth and licks it off his thumb. “Satisfied, darling? Have I paid enough attention to you now?”

You groan and buck your hips again, your drenched undergarments barely rubbing against the rogue’s stiff cock. “No!” You shriek as your bound hands pound back into the mattress.

Astarion’s lips are on yours anew, swallowing your protests as he delves his tongue into your eager mouth. You taste the iron of your own blood and groan, writhing against him and desperately pulling at your bindings. When the rogue pulls back he chuckles before easily delving two fingers inside your ruined undergarments, curling his fingers to barely strum against your swollen clit. You try to arch to meet his digits with a desperate, pleading moan, but the weight of him on your legs keeps you pinned, and you cry out.

“Please, please, please.” You whine in a soft chant coming from your lips, still using all of your strength to barely buck your hips. Your hands are twisting desperately in their bindings. “Please, please, please.”

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you, my love?” He coos, continuing to barely tease your throbbing clit with expert fingers. “What is it that you want?”

“You know what I want!” You hiss through gritted teeth, your frustration bubbling over as the rogue torments that sensitive nub between your legs.

“Hmm… perhaps I do. But you need to ask for the things that you want, my sweet. The parasite is gone and I’m no mind reader.”

“Please put your cock inside me! Please.”

“Hmm... there we are. That’s my good girl. Now, was that really so hard, little love?"

Before you can answer, Astarion’s mouth is enveloping yours as he works to quickly remove his own undergarments. The feeling of his barren member on your mound renews your desperation and you keen into your lover's mouth, causing him to smirk into the kiss. He quickly maneuvers his knee to the inside of your thigh, hitching his own leg up to spread you wide, granting him full access to your sex. Deft fingers slide the thin, arousal-soaked cloth of your underwear aside and then you feel the head of his cock pressed just against your entrance.

“Who do you belong to, my love?” The vampire asks when he pulls away from the kiss, scarlet eyes peering into yours. He’s rocking his hips just slightly, the tip of his member barely teasing in and out of your desperate pussy. He brings his hand to the side of your face, stroking his thumb along your cheek.

“You, Astarion.” You whisper, so entranced by the look in his eyes and the feeling of his cock pressing into you that you can barely think or breath. You try to thrust down to meet your lover's miniscule ministrations, but his other hand has your hip pinned in place.

“Give me your hands again.”

You oblige, and the rogue quickly undoes your fastenings, gently pressing his lips into the angry red marks around your wrists. He takes one of your hands and interlaces your fingers in his. Astarion pins one hand back above your head, but allows you the freedom of the other hand, which you bring to the side of his neck.

Then the vampire kisses you once more. As his lips press into yours, his cock slides into your eagerly awaiting cunt. Every ripple of Astarion's thick shaft makes your body sing in delight, and you're groaning into the elf's mouth as he begins to make fervent love to you, hips snapping with vigor as he sheaths and unsheathes himself in a steady rhythm.

“You are… entirely infuriating… and vexing, sometimes. Do you know that, little love?” He purrs between his lips enveloping yours, tongue exploring your mouth. The vampire plunges into you with steady determination, slowly picking up his tempo.

You’re breathless, rolling your hips to meet the rogue’s. Your eyes are shut as you smirk at his comment. “I know.. I just think you’re so sexy when you’re frustrated.” You respond between panting breaths, and that earns you a rough thrust that hits your cervix and knocks the air from your lungs as you moan in surprise.

Astarion’s hand that isn’t intertwined with yours comes under your chin and takes a firm hold, pressing just enough on your windpipe to create the delicious feeling of breathlessness without actually preventing you from breathing. Your eyes snap open from the sensation.

“You. Are. A. Naughty. Girl.” He hisses, eyes boring into your own, face mere inches from yours, and each word punctuated by another forceful snap of his hips. You moan at the feeling of his length slamming into your cervix. By this time, he’s panting and the flush on his ears is rising, and you know he’s close to his own release. One of Astarion's fingers is lingering dangerously close to your mouth as he clutches your neck; you take the digit between your lips and begin to suck.

As the vampire sees your tongue snake around his finger, he’s done for. All resolve is gone, and your lover fucks into you with reckless abandon as you moan around his hand. The grip on your neck tightens as he starts to emit his own cries of pleasure, and your hand wraps tightly onto his neck in response, nails digging into cold flesh.

“Do you see what you do to me?” He asks through gritted teeth as his thrusts become sloppy. You’re seeing stars, and the friction of his pelvis paired with the intense throbbing of your abused pussy is sending you towards a second climax. As your body reaches its crescendo, you release Astarion’s finger from between your lips and cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. The rogue hears your beautiful cry and feels the pulsing of your sex, which finally pushes him over the edge as he spills into you, cock twitching with every new stream of seed.

His mouth is on yours before you finish your strangled cry of release, and Astarion’s works to kiss you down from your incredible high. The vampire releases your neck, and the passionate force of his lips slowly ebbs into a gentle, lazy kiss. Eventually, with both of your bodies fully spent, the rogue rolls onto his side, sliding himself from you and spilling the evidence of your love making across the silky sheets.

Astarion rolls from the bed, and you whine, but he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear as he promises he will be right back. He slips his trousers on and exits the room for a minute, only to return with the book he seemed obsessed with. Part of you is annoyed when the rogue settles back into bed, opening his arm so you can nestle yourself in the crook.

You give him a little pout. “Do you not love me more than you love these books? I’m beginning to worry I’ve coupled myself to another Gale. I was sure that tonight would distract you and I would have you all to myself.”

Astarion chuckles, shaking his head slightly before turning to kiss you on the forehead. “My sweet, surely you know the depths of my love for you far surpass the pages of a book. And you are always distracting... even when I am thinking of something else, I am also thinking of you.”

He shuts the book and taps his hand on the cover, lithe fingers moving to trace the embossed words of the title. “I apologize if I’ve been consumed and you’ve felt neglected, my darling. This book is just… intriguing.”

You turn your head and for the first time, read the title: ‘The Creation of Dhampirs: A Guide.”

Oh.

Your brow furrows as you turn to look at Astarion, and you see a wistful, faraway look in his eyes. This look was different from his unfortunately familiar one that he displayed during flashbacks and night terrors… this one contained hope.

“Are you imagining your future, Astarion?” You ask, sitting up just enough to place a kiss on your lover’s cheek and brush a few wayward curls back into place. “If you are, then I’d better be there by your side.”

The rogue snaps out of his reverie and turns to look at you again, his expression laced with love. He extends his long arm backwards, dropping the tome on the nightstand before placing his hand on your face. Astarion’s thumb strokes your cheek and he sighs happily before whispering, “Yes, you’d better be.”

[ma-yawntu]

for you, anything.

pairing: neteyam x female!omatikaya!reader

summary: you're mad at Neteyam for some reason and he's determined to find out why

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mentions of injury and blood, mentions of parent death (father), fluffy, angst (sort of)

now playing... first love/late spring by mitski

Neteyam’s wound was angry and red, his skin raw with jagged cuts. Your skilled hands made quick work of his injuries, cleaning the area with fresh water to avoid infection, but despite your delicacy with his wounds; something was wrong. Neteyam could tell you were angry with him from the way you kept your lips drawn together instead of playfully lecturing him like you normally did. His ears were flat against his head as you worked, your eyes refusing to look up into his despite his obvious desperation for you to give him something– anything.

Neteyam wasn’t sure why you were angry with him, sitting there wracking his brain for possible causes of your turmoil. He knew you worried for him when he attended raids with his father and brother, but you worried for everyone. Unfortunately, it was in your nature to worry. Neteyam thought it was an admirable trait but you saw it was more of a curse.

For you, it was different with Neteyam. The two of you had been close since you were children, being born mere months apart meant you hit almost every milestone together. As children, the two of you were competitive, always pushing harder and harder to be better than the other… of course it was friendly competition. As you grew up though, you found yourself caring more and more about Neteyam as more than a friend. Of course you would never tell him– he was the Olo’eyktan’s son! Future clan leader of the Omatikaya and your best friend. You were absolutely dreaming if you thought anything could ever happen between the two of you.

That logical reasoning didn’t deter your feelings though, the heart unfortunately wants what it wants. Instead of facing the reality of your situation, you buried yourself in work. Work always needed to be done around High Camp. The Sky People closed in more and more every week and their war strategies were only getting bolder. 

You worked closely with Kiri and a few other healers under Mo’at, learning to tend to the sick and injured which only seemed to increase tenfold after every war party’s return. You wanted to be out fighting like everyone else– like Neteyam. But Jake would never allow it after you lost your father during a raid; he made Jake promise to never let you out in the field and that’s how you ended up stuck at High Camp working as a healer instead of where you were meant to be. 

“You are upset,” Neteyam mumbles after almost half an hour of uninterrupted silence as you run a damp cloth over his cuts and grazes. 

“I am not upset,” your tone alone was a dead giveaway that you were kind of upset. Neteyam’s ears flatten against his hair and he curls his lips inward, electing to give you some more time before he starts prying again. 

Your shoulders relaxed as your gaze flickered to his face. Neteyam was usually pretty unreadable; a product of his upbringing you assumed. Neteyam took after his mother in almost every way and that woman was terrifying, so it made sense. But you were always able to see through it, you’d grown up learning his tells and habits, you were sure you could understand him better than yourself most of the time. 

He seemed hurt by your short attitude with him; you weren’t even sure why you were mad in the first place, maybe it was because you were stressed and unintentionally taking it out on Neteyam. Or maybe it was because he got himself injured again and almost gave you a heart attack when Lo’ak and Jake had to carry him bleeding into the healer’s kelku because he was too injured to walk himself. It was likely a culmination of both things. 

Mo’at had originally dealt with him since you, Kiri and the other healers were busy tending to the several other injured warriors. But Mo’at was quickly called away, her expertise needed elsewhere and you were left to clean and stitch Neteyam’s body back together with shaky nervous hands.

You scooped up a heaping of Kiri’s yalna bark salve, applying the waxy substance to the jagged cut you had sewn shut along Neteyam’s chest. He winced at the slight sting, his brows knitting together at the feeling he would never get used to.

“Sorry,” you mutter, spreading the salve along the cut. You weren’t sure if you were apologising for your temper or for putting him in pain– possibly both. Now seeing his face and listening to him wince made your heart hurt and now you felt bad for being sort of mean to him. “I’m… I am not mad at you.”

Neteyam’s gaze lifts to yours and you give him a flicker of your eyes before you’re back to ignoring him and dressing his wounds. Your fingers work diligently to dress the wound but your movements quickly cease when Neteyam’s much larger hand wraps around your thin wrist. You stop what you’re doing and your eyes flicker up to meet him, falling victim to his intense golden eyes.

“Then what is wrong?” His voice is quiet, as if speaking at a normal volume would somehow scare you. 

You avert your eyes, a sigh rippling from your chest before you look at him again, heart drumming in your chest. “I was worried, that is all.”

“You always worry,” he doesn’t believe your answer but he is always gentle in his prying. 

“Then there is nothing more to say,” you retort, twisting your wrist out of his grip to get back to your work. 

Neteyam lets out a defeated sigh, “you know that is not how I meant it,” he cautions.

You know you’re being slightly unreasonable right now. But he simply doesn’t understand what it is like for you to see him like that; to see his limp body be dragged off his ikran, to see him covered in bruises, dirt and dried blood. It’s a horrifying sight to see, especially when it is someone you love and cherish. Yes, you love your best friend; you’re aware of the predicament.

You know that it won’t go anywhere. Sure, you can fight, heal and hold your own but you are nothing exceptional. There are far more pretty and talented Omatikaya women who are basically falling at Neteyam’s feet. You don’t stand a chance, you’re fully aware of that and you’ve tried to make your peace with it.

You almost feel like you have no right to worry over him the way you do. He is not yours and you are not his. You are forced to put on a brave face whenever you’re left to heal his wounds and act like it doesn’t twist your heart seeing him in pain.

You dress Neteyam’s wound and quickly move to gather your materials, completely disinterested in continuing your conversation. Your days at High Camp are never ending and at this point you’re beyond exhausted knowing you still have to clean the kelku top to bottom before you can even think about leaving.

“You need rest, no strenuous exercise or movements for at least a week or you’ll split your stitches,” you sigh, organising your materials back into their original places around the kelku. 

Neteyam’s eyes follow your body as you move around, still unconvinced by your behaviour and determined to get to the bottom of it before he leaves you alone for the night. He hates seeing you upset, it hurts him when he can’t fix things for you but it hurts even more you might be upset with him. 

Neteyam groans and winces as he stands up, his hand coming to clutch his side. You spin on your heel and let out a noise of frustration, “Neteyam, I’m serious.” You’re at his side in a second, your hands clutching his shoulder and arm to help him sit back down; he’s much heavier and taller than he was when the two of you dragged each other around as kids, you notice.

You allow him to get comfortable before you attempt to leave his side only for him to grab your arm, forcing you to stop. You peek over your shoulder and he looks so upset and your heart twists at the mere sight. 

“Talk to me,” Neteyam mutters, his eyes wide and pleading. 

You frown and sigh, relaxing in his grasp and letting him just hold your forearm for a moment. Your eyes meet his and you just crack under the overwhelming presence that is Neteyam. You feel tears welling up in your eyes, your jaw aching painfully as you attempt to hold back the flood that swirls around inside you. 

“Don’t cry,” Neteyam coos, using his other hand to pull you closer and wipe your tears with the rough pad of his thumb.

You sniffle and wipe your wet face with the back of your hand, eyes averting upward to will the tears to sink back down where they belong. You don’t know why you’re crying. You’re worried, angry, tired, frustrated; everything one person under immense pressure can feel.

Neteyam waits for you to calm down, his chest aching watching you heave and sniffle, your tears betraying you as they slip down your cheeks faster than he can catch them. His hands are holding yours, his thumbs stroking over the backs of your hands to help ground you. And he just watches you, afraid to take his eyes off you as if you’ll disappear. 

“I’m fine,” your voice comes out slightly broken and Neteyam just frowns.

“You’re crying,” Neteyam retorts.

You avert your eyes again. “Seriously, Neteyam. I’m just tired.”

“Please, sevin–”

“I worry about you!” You say rather loudly. Neteyam’s mouth presses closed and all he can do is wait with bated breath for you to continue. You sigh, eyes still glassy with tears, “I do not worry about you in the same way I worry about everyone else, Neteyam… You have to know that.”

He has to know how you feel by now, surely he is not that dense– then again, you’ve known him for a long time and he can be very dense (a trait courtesy of his father you assume). 

His brows are knitted together in a mixture of both confusion and worry as he stares at you, attempting to decipher what it is you’re trying to tell him. Neteyam has always felt something for you, how could he not? But he was so sure the two of you had grown apart because of your equally strenuous responsibilities. 

“When I watch you leave,” you start, your voice slightly shaking. “I just… I never know if you’re going to come back.”

Neteyam sighs, his hand reaching out to hold the side of your face, “I will always come back.”

“My father didn’t, Neteyam,” you reply, eyes falling shut as you will yourself to stop crying, knowing how much seeing you upset hurts Neteyam. Neteyam falters at your words and sighs sadly, his larger hand holding your jaw gently. Your lip quivers as you open your mouth to speak, another tear slipping down your cheek, “I… I cannot lose someone else, ‘Teyam.”

Neteyam feels his chest tighten at the sight of your sadness. “Sevin…”

“I cannot lose someone else that I love,” you whisper, your thumb stroking the back of Neteyam’s wrist. Your gaze finally meets his and your eyes are glossed with tears as the stress and anxiety pours out of you right in front of him. 

Neteyam’s heart pounds in his chest, he knows you love him, you’re his best friend. But you’ve never said it with such sincerity before. You’ve always been special to him, the only person who seemed to understand who Neteyam was outside of being the Olo’eyktan’s son. He’s always loved you, how could he not? But it was in this moment that he realised how desperate he was to keep you. 

Neteyam’s thumb strokes along your cheekbone and you let out a soft breath, completely drowning in the golden hues of his kind eyes. And without thinking, your body surges forward, your eyes falling shut as you plant your lips firmly against his. 

Your hands find purchase on the nape of his neck as you force his much taller frame down to meet you halfway. Neteyam’s free hand lands on the lower section of your ribs, his body stiff at the sudden contact. But the kiss is over as soon as it starts and you pull away, your face flushing and eyes blowing wide as you realise your actions.

“Shit,” you curse. “I’m… Neteyam, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

Neteyam is quick to shut you up when his hands reach out to cup your face and he kisses you again. His kiss is softer than yours, far more gentle than the awkward peck moments ago. He breathes hard against your lips between kisses, his body suddenly crippled with the urge to keep you close. 

Your smaller hand holds his cheek, careful to avoid the small cut along his cheekbone. You smile giddily against him and he pulls away to smile back at you, his thumb gently wiping away the last of your tears. 

“Now you really have to come back,” you whisper.

Neteyam smiles, “For you, anything.”

a/n: i know it's short but it's cute!!

[dark-and-kawaii]

꧁༺ 𝒞𝑜𝓂𝑒 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓃𝑒 ༻꧂

Astarion loses sight of you in a fight, he fears the worse has happened to you. He finds you and manages to bring you back to shadowheart for healing, only to discover he has more to protect than just you…

Angst - Hurt - Comfort - Pregnancy

(Click For Part Two)

You were fearless. He watched as you swung your dagger effortlessly, piercing into the necks of their enemies.

He wondered how you still managed to look elegant even when covered in the blood of fallen warriors.

His gaze never left you for too long, making sure you were safe, while he stealthed around the makeshift arena, racking up his own share of kills. How glorious this was! There was so much blood splattering all around them and with his love at his side it truly couldn’t get any better.

Astarion’s eyes couldn’t be everywhere though, and at some point, he lost sight of you. The last person to recognize him for what he’s worth, the one person he truly couldn’t afford to lose.

His head darted across the battlefield, desperately trying to find you. His panic plunged into sheer dread as fear overcame him. It was happening all over again, he’d seen this before… Alone.. No, please, he couldn’t let this be his fate.

He hadn’t felt fear this whole day; why should he? He was free of Cazador, had you- A subtle manic laugh drew from his throat, he’d never be free of fear, instead of fearing for himself or what his old master would do to him he now feared what would happen to you when in danger.

His red eyes turned a dark shade of black. The expression of a crazy man etched onto Astarion’s face. No, he wouldn’t let fear consume him, no more! He’d finally be the protector! Overcome with fury he went on a rampage. Cutting through the battlefield, slaughtering anyone and everyone in his way, determined to find you. He raced over to where he last saw you, faster than a blue dragon's lightning splits through the air in a storm.

Was he truly going to be the reason you passed on to the next life. Was his fate to destroy everything he held near and dear to his heart? He nearly killed you before with his own fangs and now, no! He wasn’t the cause of that, was he? He hadn’t ever tasted human blood before, but if he was stronger it wouldn’t have happened! If he would’ve ascended he would’ve been able to stop this, however he’s still just a spawn… How could you have fought for his love, a fool who couldn’t even protect you. A fool who was going to be the reason you die.

“FIND HER” He roared at the top of his lungs. “FIND TAV!”

The group of companions didn’t dare hesitate and instantly started searching the grounds, Gale being the second most worried.

Astarion was about to collapse to his knees before hearing Gale's voice, “I’ve found her!” in the distance. It filled him with more apprehension. All he could think is, ’what if she’s dead’.

Staggering up the hill where Gale’s voice had come from, Astarion can see a figure laying in the dirt next to the wizard, “No! You can’t die dammit! Get up!!” he rushed out his words, dismay evident in his tone as he knelt next to you.

“She is unconscious, but alive. There’s hope.” Gale replied.

Astarion let out a shaky breath of relief.

“We must get her back to camp,” Astarion demanded. “She needs Shadowheart, she’s the only one who can fix this!” His voice cracked despite his efforts to mask it.

“I agree.” Gale, mere inches from grabbing you to lift you in his arms until the pale elf stopped him, “Don’t touch her!- I- I will carry her.” Trying to compose himself he lifted you bridal style.

Astarion never left your side during Shadowhearts attempts to heal you. Time never bothered him, not after his 200 years of torment, he waited as “patiently” as he could.

“Honestly, how long does it take! You could at least give me some good news!”

Shadowheart continued to focus on you best she could, everyone including the gods were used to Astarions fits at this point. Gale on the other hand not so much, he could hear Astarion all the way in his own tent which caused the wizard to scrunch his nose. Eventually, leading him to where you were being treated, “Astarion, why don’t you join me in some wine. I’ve got quite the choices, besides… It might be best if we give her some space.”

Astarion scowled, “You expect me to leave her side to join you in some cheap wine? Really? I didn’t think you could get anymore annoying, Gale.”

“It’s done. She’ll be fine after some more rest.” Shadowheart stood from your side and wipes the blood off her hands. She’s been traveling with you and these two men for far too long, toning out their bickering was a skill of hers at this point.

Turning to face you, if his heart could beat he knows it would’ve dropped in his chest this very moment… “Leave us-“ kneeling down next to your bedroll, his eyes fixed on your bandaged wound, “please.”

“I was able to save her,” -Shadowheart bent down towards Astarion- “and the child, but it took most of my energy and resources… Don’t ask for me again for a while. Keep them both safe.”

He was quiet, his eyes wide after the news he was just told.

“Ahhh,” Shadowheart’s voice was surprised, “she didn’t tell you yet? Hmm or perhaps she hadn’t known yet? Curious.”

Astarion could only stare at his love, “A-are you for certain?”

Gale interjected, “I doubt her magic would deceive her, congratulations.”

Dark bruises and cuts decorated your once perfect skin. A deep purple shade surrounded your right puffy eye. His eyes traveled further down your body, stopping at your stomach.

He caressed your still flat stomach, causing you to wince and awake. Retreating his hand, he awaited for your eyes to open and look up at him.

A-Astarion?” You spoke with a small smile carved on your lips.

“Yes, my love. It’s me.” He struggled out, trying his best not to crumble.

You were both silent, hands entwined with one another thankful that you both can spend another day alive in the presence of another.

He was the first to break the silence, “thank you.”

You were so weak, but you wanted to know why he was thanking you out of the blue, “For what?” Your voice barely heard.

“For this,” his hand stretching out to rest on your abdomen, “for giving me purpose again.”

Your eyebrows furrowed, not knowing what he was talking about until it finally hit you. Your arm wavered as you lifted it to place your hand atop of his on your belly. A gentle smile forming on your lips as you stared into his vermilion eyes.

When your breath became labored indicating you had fallen asleep again, Astarion’s attention was back at your torso where the bandage was slowly being stained by your blood. This moment of relief turned to anger again as he lashed out, slapping a metal canister of water out the tent with force. The absolute intrigued him at first, more power meant being stronger to protect you, but now… He was beyond ever considering it again. The cultist not only almost killed you, but the child growing from within you!

“How dare they…” He seethed, “How dare they harm her and my child!”

Astarion was pacing around angrily, how could he have allowed this to happen? He started to blame himself.

“Astarion-“ You spoke up, attempting to calm him down.

“I’ll show them, my love-“ he cut you off, “that nobody is allowed to touch what is mine.” He growled.

His eyes darkened again: “I’ll make them pay.”

[surftrips]

BAD REPUTATION | LUKE CASTELLAN

HEARTBREAKER — CHAPTER 02

pairing luke castellan x fem!ares!reader

summary y/n is challenged by campers and her growing feelings for luke castellan.

author's note thank you for all the support on this series! i made a masterlist here so you can easily find the parts <3 as always, comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the taglist and lmk your thoughts :)

→ installment of this au read for context

Luke Castellan found it increasingly harder and harder to hide his feelings for you. He could no longer make eye contact with you without his face turning an embarrassing shade of red. In fact, he could hardly look at your face because somehow his eyes would always end up darting toward your lips, or even lower if you were wearing a certain tank top that day. 

“My eyes are up here, Castellan,” you quipped at him once. 

Quite frankly, it was ruining his own reputation around camp as the best swordsman and a stoic warrior. If word got out that he fell to his knees at the hands of an Ares girl, what would people think of him? 

As stories of your excellent skills got around, so did rumors about you. Everyone was interested to hear whose heart you had broken next, all because of that first fateful incident with a camper named Connor. 

Connor, son of Apollo, thought that he could challenge you to an archery competition. He had bet that if he won, he could take you out on a date. How could you resist the urge to prove him wrong?

A small crowd had gathered to watch the two of you. Some people rooted for Connor, trusting that his combat skills would be stronger because of his father. However, the innate strength and talent from your own godly father allowed you to become familiar with the bow and arrow rather quickly. 

“Careful, or one of your siblings will have to heal you later,” you warned. 

“Oh, I think you’re the one that’s going to end up at my cabin later,” Connor responded snarkily. 

You hated losing. It wasn’t an option for you. You didn’t care that Connor technically had the upper hand here, you were going to beat him regardless. 

The rules were simple: there were four targets. Whoever hit the most points, won. 

Connor went first, hitting an impressive 34 points. 

“Beat that, pretty girl.”

You tried not to cringe at his nickname for you, and confidently walked up to the front. You quickly scanned the crowd, eyes landing on the brunette-haired boy you didn't realize you were looking for. Luke smiled at you, and suddenly everyone else faded away.

Turning back toward the targets, you lined up your bow and arrow and took the first shot. You hit eight points, which was not bad, but you were going to have to do better in order to win.

Trying to hone in on your training, you closed your eyes for the next shot and trusted your instincts. You heard the arrow hitting wood and before you could open your eyes, cheers had erupted from the crowd. Bullseye. 

With 17 points left to beat Connor, you had to hit at least another bullseye. And you did just that. 

Turning to Connor, you said, “Any last words before I take this final shot?” 

“What time am I picking you up tonight?” he said, not losing hope just yet. You had to give it to him and his tireless persistence. 

Your eyes focused in on the last target, until all you could see was the gold center. It kind of looked like the sun, and reminded you of a certain someone. You released the arrow, but at the last second felt your finger flinch.

Shit, you thought. But the crowd had already begun cheering again, and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You had hit eight on the last one, just enough to win. 

“Okay, who’s next?” you declared triumphantly, not missing the disappointed look on Connor's face.

After the competition, Luke walked over to congratulate you on your win. 

“Hey, that was sick!” He placed his hand on your shoulder. 

“Hey, thanks!”

“You’re not beating yourself up over that last one, are you?”

“Wh- how’d you know?” You were silently cursing yourself for not making that last bullseye and blowing Connor completely out of the water. 

“I know you, Y/N. Don’t look so surprised.” 

“Okay, well, what am I thinking right now?”

“Hmmm,” he pretended to be lost in thought. “Dinner?”

“You know me so well.” 

Ever since then, various people at camp had challenged you to their own duels in an effort to ask you out, just for you to beat them time and time again.

You weren’t sure why anyone thought you would be interested in them, when you had not once expressed a want for any sort of romantic entanglements. Because that’s all they were to you, entanglements. Complicated messes that were hard to get out of.

“Okay, I need boy advice,” Annabeth announced.

“No,” you responded. This was the first of many sleepovers you, her, and Clarisse would have together. 

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“That’s my advice, do yourself a favor and just don’t.” 

“Okay, what’s the story?” the young girl asked. 

“I dated this guy once. Long story short, all men do is disappoint you. It’s not worth it.” 

“I second that,” Clarisse joined in. 

“Wait- who do you like?” you asked, processing Annabeth’s original question.

“Oh, forget it. I’m not gonna tell you guys now,” she responded.

“No, you have to tell us!” Clarisse insisted. 

When Annabeth didn’t respond, you and Clarisse began throwing pillows at her. 

“Stop! Stop!” she giggled. “Fine, fine. I’ll tell you guys.” 

You and Clarisse waited with baited breath as Annabeth formed his name in her mouth. “Percy.”

Chaos ensued. You’re pretty sure that you squealed loud enough to break glass and Clarisse nearly woke up the cabin on the other side of camp. Luckily for you guys, it was a weekend that many of the campers had gone home for. 

“Why are you guys cheering?” Annabeth asked, confused.

“Because we’re happy for you! Your first crush is so exciting!” Clarisse said.

Annabeth had always been like a younger sister to you and Clarisse, and you couldn’t help but be happy for her, despite your personal feelings about love. 

“Y/N, what do you think?” Annabeth turned to you. 

“I think you don’t even need our advice. Just be yourself, I’m sure he already thinks you’re amazing.” 

The young girl beamed at you. “I thought you were anti-boys.”

“I am, if it were up to me, there would be no boys here.” 

“Not even Luke?” Annabeth asked, feigning innocence.

“Well, is he a boy?” you responded.

“Yeah, but not just any boy….” Clarisse joined in.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you sat up on your elbows in bed. 

“Y/N, just admit it! He’s different!” Annabeth said.

“No, he’s still just a boy,” you said, trying to convince them, or yourself. 

Annabeth and Clarisse looked at each other knowingly, but dropped the subject before upsetting you further. 

The truth was, the thought of Luke Castellan terrified you. 

At first, you didn’t want to admit it. There was no way Luke Castellan liked you, and there was absolutely no way that you liked him back. Not in any universe, above or on earth. Not after you had made it your whole mission to swear off boys completely. 

Sure, you constantly picked each other as partners in Capture the Flag, sat next to each other over bonfires, and talked to each other everyday, but nothing friends didn’t do. 

You tried to be oblivious to his longing glances at you, the way his face lit up when he saw you, but Annabeth and Clarisse were not shy in pointing out each time he smiled at you like you hung the moon and stars. 

For years, Luke had repressed his emotions for fear of being perceived as weak. But each time you came around, he wondered if love could even be equated to weakness if he had never felt anything stronger. 

Liked by lukecastellan and 170 others.

tagged annaaabeth and clarisse

ynuser with the girls 🏹💕

view all comments.

annaaabeth love youuu

clarisse so much fun!

lukecastellan ur foul for that last pic

ynuser whose side are you on

percyjackson second pic is me to you when i don't get invited to the sleepover :(

—

TAGLIST: @ravisinghs-wife @jules-loves-lukecastellan @favreader23 @clydeisalsoellie @yuminako @luxreziaa @eddiesdrummergf @whataprettyshadeofred @grace-928 @girls-and-guts @supercutszns @noodlesketchbook @birdiewriteslit @mitskiswift99 @idontevencare1223 @randomnpc456 @lucycarlisleswife @angelicdanvers @imguce @anitatvd (please lmk if you want to be added or i missed you!)

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 7.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries, mentions of dead animals, hunting of animals, kissing, allusion to arousal

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

„You shouldn't move yet!“, y/n says angrily. Katsuki is up and walking around camp. It seems as if he's getting ready to leave. Y/n follows him closely.

„Seriously! This wound is not even close to being healed yet. You can still rip it open again!“, y/n keeps scolding him but Katsuki simply ignores her. Y/n grips his arm and pulls it which has no effect on Katsuki whatsoever. He's just too strong.

Y/n doesn't give up yet. Quickly, she catches up to him and stands her ground in front of him. „I'm not joking, you need to sit down!“, she says loudly and stares up at him.

Katsuki almost laughs in her face. She's glaring up at him, anger twinkling behind her eyes. She has put her hands into her sides and huffs at him. Her cheeks are slightly red. He doesn't need to understand her language to know what she is saying. „I'm fine, you little shit. I've had worse injuries and went into battle with them.“, he grins at her. Y/n shakes her head in disapprovement and Katsuki ruffles her hair.

When they're all packed up, it's time to mount the dragon. This time, y/n pulls her up by herself and even helps Katsuki up with his injured leg.

Y/n doesn't want to admit it yet but she's growing more comfortable to ride the giant beast. She clutches the handle of the saddle a little less tight and even takes a closer look at the view.

She's never been this high before. Everything looks so small. Hungrily, she takes in the landscape around her. Now and then, she gleefully points out things to Katsuki.

Katsuki doesn't catch on the things y/n discovers but he's content watching her this excited. It's the first time she truly enjoys flying and her reaction makes him want to take her on a joy ride more often.

This makes an idea pop up in his head. He grips the reigns and y/n tighter and grumbles in her ear: "Hold on tight".

His deep voice sends shivers down y/n's spine. Her neck and stomach suddenly feel really hot. Before she can recover from this sensation, the dragon takes on speed. The wind makes her eyes water and she presses her legs into the saddle.

Suddenly, her sight turns and before she knows it, she's upside down in the air. It happened so fast, that she didn't even have time to scream. It's over just as fast again. Katsuki's booming laugh can be heard against the wind.

Y/n turns around to him and shoves his chest. "You asshole!", she yells half laughing. "Asshole, hm?", Katsuki repeats with a grin. He knows that's an insult. Y/n huffs. "Of course, you know that word.", she says sarcastically and twists around again.

Katsuki laughs again and pulls her closer to his chest. "You're naughty, eh.", he grins.

They fly only for a little while longer before Katsuki lands in a secured area. He leaves the dragon to rest and prepares for hunting. He secures his weapons and then gestures at y/n to come over to him. He gives her a hunting knife and a spear.

"Are we going hunting?", she asks him unsurely. She's pretty sure she will only stand in Katsuki's way but the man gestures to follow her. The dragon takes to the air and follows them as a small point above their heads.

Katsuki scouts the area looking for tracks. Y/n follows him trying to be as quiet as possible. Her father and mother took her hunting a few times and she learned that being quiet is essential to being successful. Once her father wanted to shoot a pheasant and y/n stepped on a branch scaring the bird away. While trying to conceal it, her father was really angry and she had to promise to gather vegetables for the entire family to make up for the lack of dinner.

She watches Katsuki closely. He crouches to the ground looking at the ground intently. Y/n knows what he's looking for. While she's not an expert at reading tracks, she knows how to identify tracks of certain animals: foxes, rabbits, deer, pheasants...

Wanting to help out, she looks around for tracks as well. It's hard for her untrained eyes to see more than leaves and dirt. She can hear Katsuki curse behind her.

Then, she finally sees something that might be interesting. An imprint of a hoof in the dirt.

"Katsuki, look!", she whispers excitedly and waves behind her. Katsuki stops his string of curses and walks over to her. Y/n points at the hoof print.

"Jackpot", he mumbles and gives y/n an appreciative pat on the head. His eyes follow the rest of the trail that y/n didn't notice. He gestures y/n to follow him which she does so on quick and light feet.

They follow the trail for a good half an hour. Eventually, y/n doubts that Katsuki even knows where they are going but every now and then she recognizes a hoof print in the dirt.

They arrive at the edge of a clearing. Katsuki gives her a hectic sign to get down and y/n quickly ducks behind a bush. Katsuki crouches next to her and readies his spear. Y/n lures over the edge of the bush and sees a flock of deer resting in the middle of the clearing. There's a mighty stag just in the middle of them.

Knowing Katsuki, that's probably what he'll aim for. Katsuki nudges her and gives her a sign to stay down and be quiet. Y/n nods and Katsuki gets in position.

The element of surprise is an essential part of the hunt, y/n knows that. She can see how Katsuki's brows furrow in concentration. He looks pretty like this, y/n thinks.

Then, he tenses his muscles getting ready to jump. Before y/n can blink, Katsuki's in the middle of the clearing. Even though y/n knew it was coming, his speed still surprised her. Y/n raises her head above the bush. Almost she gets run over by a fleeing deer.

Then she sees Katsuki ramming his spear into the stag and wrestling it to the ground. The stag tries to defend itself by throwing its antlers into Katsuki's direction but Katsuki throws himself onto the stag's side pushing its body and head down. Katsuki lets go of the spear and struggles to get his hunting knife out. When he has it secure in his hand, he expertly cuts the stag's throat.

Slowly, the stag's movements become heavier. Katsuki stays on top of it nonetheless. It seems as if he's whispering to the stag. Y/n gets up from her position at the edge of the clearing and walks closer as the stag takes its last breath. Katsuki puts his hand on the stag's head and mumbles in his language. To y/n, it seems as if he's saying a prayer. Katsuki closes the stag's eyes and gets up. He lowers his head in respect and y/n stays silent. This seems like a sacred ritual that y/n doesn't want to disturb.

When Katsuki raises his head again, his eyes meet hers. Y/n gulps. She doesn't really know how to behave in this situation. Katsuki removes the spear from the stag's side. He dips his thumb into the blood and draws a line on his forehead. He dips his thumb into the blood again and gestures for y/n to come over. He draws a similar line on her forehead.

"You're a successful hunter, too.", he tells her, "Without you, I wouldn't have found the flock."

Y/n looks up at him with those big, clueless eyes and Katsuki almost has to laugh again. He pats her head then turns to look at the sky. He whistles and the small point in the sky becomes bigger and bigger until the dragon lands at the clearing.

Katsuki drags the stag to the side into the shade. After that, they set up camp. The dragon is relieved of the weight it is carrying. Y/n and Katsuki stack the bags in a way that makes it easier to get ready to fly in the morning. When a bonfire is lit, y/n and Katsuki settle down to eat. They still have some leftovers from yesterday which they eat in silence.

The cold slowly creeps in once the sun has set. Y/n shivers and holds her hands towards the fire in an attempt to keep warm. Katsuki chews on a bit of meat as he watches y/n. Y/n rubs her arms. Katsuki swallows the last bite. Then, he grabs y/n's waist and pulls her over to him. Tucking her into his side, he drags his cape over y/n's body. Instinctively, y/n leans into his warmth and Katsuki puts his arm around her.

Unknown to her, Katsuki's heart starts pounding. Now's the chance to find out if she's interested in him like that, he thinks to himself. Slowly, he shifts and grabs her legs. Y/n is startled when she's suddenly pulled into Katsuki's lap.

Katsuki pulls her close and y/n's head rests on his chest. She can hear the beating of his heart and his raspy breath. Katsuki runs his hands up and down her arms and legs. Y/n's own heart starts to pick up. What is he doing?, she wonders.

When she looks up, his intense red eyes meet hers. There's a certain determination behind them that makes y/n swallow thickly. There's that warm feeling in her belly again.

Slowly, Katsuki drags his hand up her arm, along her shoulder, up her neck until it lies firmly against her cheek. Y/n's breath comes out heavy in anticipation. She knows exactly what is going to happen next. She'd be a fool not to notice how Katsuki's eyes flicker down to her lips.

Then, Katsuki pulls her face closer and presses his lips against hers. Electricity shoots down y/n's spine. It takes a second for y/n to react. Katsuki is just about to pull back in defeat when y/n jerks forward putting pressure behind her lips. She helplessly grabs onto the necklaces that hang around Katsuki's neck.

Relieve floods Katsuki's veins. His hand finds y/n's lower back and he pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. Y/n kisses him back more feverishly. Her arms snake around his neck and one of her hands find their way into his hair. Katsuki kisses back just as feverishly and he pulls her body flush against his.

He can feel the mounts of her breast against his chest and he feels blood rushing into all the wrong (or right?) places. He shifts y/n on top of him so she doesn't notice. It's not the right time for this.

He groans as he lets go of y/n. In all honesty, he didn't expect y/n to go all in like this. She did strike him as one of those shy, easily sexually intimidated girls. Seems like y/n hides a lot more behind her kind, soft eyes.

Y/n's cheeks are red and her breath comes out in slight puffs of air. Katsuki has to smirk at her disheveled appearance. He pulls her close once again giving her a quick, but deep kiss. When he lets go of her, she looks embarrassed.

"Seriously", y/n huffs, "what are you doing to me?".

Katsuki presses another kiss into her neck with a chuckle. He feels happy, triumphant even. This makes it easier on what comes next. He'll take her home and present her to his mother. Then, he'll take her as his mate.

He leans back stroking over her back as she leans into his chest. Bringing home a mighty stag and a woman to his people. How better can he prove himself worthy to be their leader? He's securing their future, no matter what comes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke x drunk!reader

luke decides to take care of you when he notices how drunk you are a party, you didn’t know how much you needed him until he showed you so.

warnings: drunk!reader, protective!luke, lil violence, use of yn, allusion to s3x

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The melody from a stolen radio emerged through the humid night air, barely audible over the loud laughter and shouted conversations of the older campers reunited in the woods. The stars offered little illumination, replaced by the flickering glow of a bonfire fueled by firewood. The air was heavy and hot, filled with the scent of chips, spilled beer, and teenage rebellion. This was a rare ocasion for the senior campers, a chance to forget about monstrous threats and drakon training for a night.

Luke nestled in the shadows of a nearby oak tree, holding a way too warm can of beer to drink now, and listened to his friends, trade their usual brand of mischievous gossip. A comfortable camaraderie settled over him, a welcome respite from the weight of responsibility that pressed down on him as a counselor.

"Did you see Lucy practically drooling over Malcolm after Ally dumped him?" Travis snickered, nudging Connor with his elbow.

Connor snorted, barely containing his laughter. "Ouch, sister drama. Ally must be thinking about drowning her in cheap perfume"

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. The Aphrodite cabin drama was always entertaining, even if a little predictable. He glanced around the clearing, his gaze sweeping over the other campers. A group of Ares cabin warriors were engaged in a play-fight, throwing each other to the ground as they groaned and laughed. He spotted Katie Gardner, daughter of Demeter, tending to a small patch of wildflowers. Even at a forbidden party, Katie couldn't resist nurturing something green.

"Hey, Luke" Chris nudged him, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You gonna tell us your big secret yet? We all know there's something going on between you and yn"

Luke's smile faltered slightly. "There's nothing to tell" he replied noncommittally, taking a swig of his warm beer, the taste bitter in his tongue. “We’re just friends”

"Oh, come on" Connor pressed, a sly smirk spreading across his face. "We see the way you look at her. Like she's the only girl alive."

Luke rolled his eyes, but a blush crept up his neck under the teasing of his friends. Suddenly, a melodic laugh cut through the din, a sound that sent a jolt through him. It was your laugh, bright and carefree, a stark contrast to the usual reserved demeanor you displayed around camp. He followed the sound, his gaze landing on you amidst a group of campers near the edge of the clearing. But it wasn't your presence that triggered a tightening in his chest. It was the hulking figure of Ares cabin resident, Mark, who stood far too close to you, his arm draped around your shoulder as he leaned in to whisper something that caused another burst of laughter from you.

A sting of jealousy pierced Luke´s insides. He knew it was silly. He and you were nothing more than friends. But still, that doesn’t mean he’s gonna like it when he sees you with some other guy. He watched as you swayed slightly, the red plastic cup clutched loosely in your hand a clear indication of your intoxicated state. Your usually sharp eyes held a glazed look, a vulnerability that made his protective instincts flare.

He saw you and Mark detach from the group, heading deeper into the shadowy woods. There was a part of him that urged him to let you be, to let you enjoy your night. But another, more primal part couldn't shake the image of you, intoxicated and unaware, disappearing into the woods with someone like Mark.

Sighing, Luke pushed himself off the tree trunk. “I´ll be back in a minute” he says to his friends, leaving his can on Travis´ hand. He weaved through the tight and large group of campers, his purpose hardening with each step. You stumbled on a protruding root, giggling at your own clumsiness. Mark steadied you, his hand lingering on your waist in a way that made Luke’s right eye twitch.

"Hey, yn" Luke's voice cut through the air, catching your attention. You turned, your face splitting into a wide, drunken smile.

"Luuuke!" you slurred, swaying towards him with open arms, nearly knocking him over with the force of your hug. Ignoring the glare Mark shot his way, Luke enveloped you in a hug, his nose crinkling at the distinct scent of fruit punch and something a little stronger.

"Whoa there" he chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He could smell the sugary sweetness of your lip gloss. "Easy, tiger."

You giggled, your head lolling against his shoulder. You mumbled something nonsensical, giggling at a private joke only you seemed to understand. Your mascara, usually neatly applied, had smudged slightly at the corners of your eyes. Despite the obvious effects of the alcohol, you were undeniably beautiful, the firelight casting warm shadows on your face. "M'so happpy you´re here! Dance with me!" you yelled as you lift your arms, your voice thick with intoxication. Luke felt a pang of worry. You were far too drunk to be alone in the woods with a boy you barely knew.

"Seems like you've had a few too many tonight, huh?"

"Just having a little fun, Luke" you pouted, the way you said his name sounded funny. "Don't be a all couns-, counselor"

He glanced over your shoulder towards Mark, whose jaw was clenched tight. "Yeah, well, maybe a little too much fun" Luke countered, his voice gaining a hint of firmness, but as softly as possible. "Maybe it's time for you to head back to your cabin, yeah?”

"But Mark was showing me…" you began, but were cut off by Mark's snide voice.

"Mind your own business, Castellan" He growled. Luke narrowed his eyes at the Ares camper, a dangerous glint flickering within them. “This doesn´t concern you”

"She's clearly not in control of herself" Luke retorted, his voice low and cold. "Someone needs to make sure she gets back safely. And it won't be you."

Mark scoffed, a humorless sound. "Says who? Why don't you worry about yourself, Castellan?"

The barb hit a nerve. Luke wasn't drunk, but the implication stung. He wasn't about to get into a debate about his tolerance with this ridiculously big guy.

"Look," Luke said tightly, trying to keep his voice calm, "I'm not trying to cause any trouble. I just—"

"Just what?" Mark interrupted, stepping forward, his chest puffing out in a show of dominance. "Going to swoop in and save the damsel in distress? You think she needs rescuing?"

He shot a pointed look at you, who seemed to be lost in your own world, giggling at some private joke as you covered your mouth. The sight of it only fueled Luke's simmering anger.

"Whether she needs help or not isn't the point" Luke growled, his voice strained. "The point is, she's clearly intoxicated and shouldn't be alone with someone she barely knows."

"Barely knows?" Mark echoed, a sneer twisting his lips. "We were just getting to know each other, weren't we, yn?"

He turned to you, his voice dripping with false sweetness. You blinked at him owlishly, then shrugged, a nonsensical answer escaping your lips.

The sight of it was too much for Luke. His fists clenched at his sides. He knew Mark was deliberately trying to get a rise out of him, but it was working. The implication that his concern was fueled by jealousy rather than genuine care was infuriating.

“Now if you excuse us…” Mark pointed out, pulling you to him by your hip as he tried to walk away with you.

But Luke´s had enough. That was the last straw. In a blur of motion, Luke lashed out. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with Mark's nose with a satisfying crunch. Mark stumbled back, roaring in pain, a hand flying up to his now-bleeding nose.

You, however, seemed oblivious to the sudden violence. You blinked at the scene in confusion, your brow creased in a frown as you looked at Mark. "What the-…" your words slurred, lost in the midst of your intoxication.

But before you could form a complete sentence, a wave of fury washed over you. You turned around, shoving Luke hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back a step. "What the fuck, Luke!" you shrieked, your voice laced with a venom that startled him. "Why do you always have to be all over me!?"

The words hit Luke like a physical blow. He wasn't angry at you, not truly. You were clearly out of it, the world a dizzy sight because of whatever it is that you drank. But the accusation stung. Here he was, trying to protect you from a situation you couldn't navigate in your current state, and you saw it as him controlling you.

"yn," he started again, trying to choose his words carefully. "I just-"

"Just what?" you shot back, your voice thick with slurred defiance. "Just what gives you the right to decide what I do?"

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. Luke's heart ached. You were upset, confused, and vulnerable – a dangerous combination amplified by the alcohol coursing through your veins.

You crossed your arms over your chest as you sniffed, walking past him fast, head down and all pouty. “You ruined everything” you mumbled, more to yourself than directly to him, but he still heard. Luke watched you go, a wave of despair washing over him. He'd messed up.

He glanced back at Mark, who was clutching his nose and glaring at him with a mixture of fury and grudging respect. "Look, man" Luke sighed, the fight momentarily draining out of him. "That was a cheap shot, I´m sorry"

Mark grunted, wiping blood from his face with the back of his hand. "Yeah, well, you got a nice fist, I must say."

There was a hint of grudging respect in his voice, perhaps because he couldn't deny that Luke's concern for you seemed genuine, or because if he recieved another punch, he'd need his nose surgically reattached.

"I wasn´t gonna do much either" he tried to defend himself. “She can´t even walk straight” Mark mumbled, ponting at you, then he turned away and disappeard into the shadows.

Luke glanced back at your retreating figure. He knew he needed to fix things with you, but for now, all he could do was hope you wouldn't hold his overprotective actions against him. He took a deep breath and started following you, determined to apologize and explain his actions once you were sober enough to listen.

Your walk was more of a drunken sashay, hips swaying precariously with each wobbly step. Luke watched you stumble away, a knot of frustration tightening in his gut. He knew you weren't thinking straight, the alcohol muddling your judgment and turning his concern into a controlling act in your eyes.

"yn" he called after you, his voice laced with a pleading he rarely used. "Wait a minute, please."

You ignored him, your focus solely on putting distance between you and Luke. He quickened his pace, catching up beside you.

"Seriously, stop it" Luke's voice was closer now. "You're going to fall on your face if you keep walking like that."

You stopped short, whirling around to face him. “Will you stop following me? This is embarrasing enough, Luke”

"Embarrassing?" Luke echoed, his voice rising in exasperation. "You're practically falling over drunk! You can't just walk around like this."

"I can handle myself" you slurred, puffing out your chest in a show of false bravery. You wobbled slightly, proving his point.

Luke sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Look…" he said, trying to keep his voice calm. "I'm not trying to be a jerk. I'm just worried about you. You're clearly hammered, and it's not safe for you to be alone."

You scoffed. "Safe? I'm not a little girl, Luke. I can take care of myself."

"Yeah, well, right now you can't even take care of your balance!" he retorted, his patience wearing thin. You wobbled again, nearly toppling over before catching yourself on a nearby tree trunk.

"Just stop following me, okay?" you slurred, your voice thick with a pout. "I don't need this from you"

He sighed as your trembling body swayed precariously, threatening to topple over at any moment. Luke knew arguing with you further would be pointless. You were a force of nature in your current state, fueled by both alcohol and indignation. He needed to take a different approach.

With a resigned sigh, he whipped his denim jacket off in one swift motion. Kneeling before you, he draped it around your waist, the familiar scent of him momentarily grounding you. You blinked at him, a flicker of confusion replacing the anger in your eyes.

"What are you—woah!" you yelped before you could finish your question. In a smooth, practiced motion honed from years of wrestling monstrous opponents, Luke scooped you up effortlessly, hoisting you over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

A surprised shriek erupted from your lips. The world tilted on its axis as you found yourself dangling upside down. The clearing erupted in laughter. A few of the campers who had been watching the whole scene unfold hooted and hollered, their amusement evident. "Careful with that one, Luke!" one of them called out, a wide grin plastered on his face. "Looks like she bites!"

Luke shot him a withering look, his jaw clenched. "Very funny" he muttered, ignoring the whistles and catcalls from the others. His focus was solely on you, the warmth of your body radiating against his back.

“You better put me down!" you shrieked, kicking your legs in the air in a futile attempt to dislodge yourself.

"Not a chance, Short Stuff" Luke called back.

"But I don't want to go back to my cabin yet! The party's just getting started!" You pounded your fists against his back, a feeble attempt at protest. "Seriously, Luke, put me down! I can walk perfectly fine!"

"Uh-huh, you´re right" he said sarcastically, walking down with your full weight on one shoulder as if you were as light as a feather.

You let out a frustrated groan, burying your face on his back. “This so embarrasing!” you cried. You hated that he was right. You were a mess, and the last thing you needed was to stumble around the woods in this state, potentially attracting unwanted attention.

Despite your annoyance, a strange sense of security settled over you as Luke carried you. The rhythmic thud of his footsteps against the earth and the warmth of his hands radiating against your legs as he held you were oddly comforting.

The walk to your cabin, however, was far from peaceful. You continued to mumble incoherent protests, punctuated by occasional swats at his back and what felt like an eternity of "Put me down!"s. But Luke remained undeterred, his jaw set in a determined line.

Finally, after what felt like an hour —but was probably closer to five minutes—, you reached your cabin. Relief washed over Luke as he gently lowered you onto the porch, careful not to jostle you too much.

You glared at Luke, your arms crossed defiantly across your chest. He couldn’t tell if your eyes were truly filled with anger of constantly trying to focus on his face so your world wouldn’t keep spinning.

"Well, aren't you prince charming himself, Mr. Castellan" you huffed, voice thick with a playful slur. "Kidnapping girls and all"

Luke, however, seemed unfazed. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine despite yourself. "Just get in, sleepyhead" he countered, his eyes gleaming under the moonlight as he opened the unlocked door to your cabin.

You pouted, a childish expression along with the stomping of your feet on the wooden porch. "I could have walked!" you protested weakly, knowing full well it was a lie.

He ignored your protest, stepping past you and gently maneuvering you towards your bed, placing his hand on your lower back as you walked. The cabin was, as expected, empty. Your half-siblings, ever the social butterflies, were undoubtedly wreaking havoc at the party you were now forbidden to attend.

You felt lonely for a second, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth that spread through you as Luke helped you onto the bed. You wanted to be furious with him, to unleash the full force of your drunken anger. But the lingering warmth of his touch on your legs and back, the way he so effortlessly hoisted you like a defiant princess, somehow muddled your outrage. The thought was absurd and yet undeniably attractive.

He knelt down in front of you once you sat at the edge of your bed. You could smell the faint scent of woodsmoke and pine needles clinging to his clothes, a comforting aroma that filled your nosestrils instantly.

With a gentle hand, he reached out your calve and started unlacing your boots, his touch surprisingly tender. You watched him in a daze, your head spinning slightly. The world seemed to tilt on its axis again, everything blurring at the edges except for Luke's face. You watched him in fascination as he repeated the process with your other foot.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea washed over you. You squeezed your eyes shut and groaned, a weak sound that escaped your lips.

Luke, sensing your distress, immediately stopped what he was doing. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with concern as he placed one hand on your knee.

You opened your eyes, blinking slowly. "Yeah, just a little…" you trailed off, searching for the right word. "Woozy" you finally managed.

Then, he stood up and looked around. His gaze landed on a package of makeup wipes on your bedside table. Without a word, he picked them up and returned to stand in front of you.

"You might want to clean some of this off" he said, holding up a wipe and gesturing to the smudged mascara beneath your eye.

You were speechless. No one had ever offered to do something like this for you before. A warmth bloomed in your chest, chasing away the remnants of your anger.

He held the wipe out to you, but you didn't take it. Instead, you found yourself blurting out; "Can you do it for me?"

He didn't hesitate. He fully unfolded the wipe as he lowered to you just a little to continue the process of taking care of you, his touch tender.

He was wiping the makeup from your face with a meticulousness that surprised you. You sat there, mesmerized, feeling strangely vulnerable under his watchful gaze even though you kept your eyes closed. The alcohol, combined with the unexpected intimacy of the moment, had rendered you uncharacteristically quiet.

"You didn't have to punch him, you know" you mumbled, the words tumbling out before you could stop them.

He kept as concentraded in his task as he was before. "Who?" he asked, though you both knew exactly who you were talking about.

"Mark" you clarified.

Luke sighed, going for your other eye. "He was… well, he was clearly taking advantage of your state" he explained patiently.

"How do you know?" you challenged, a sliver of defiance still clinging to your voice.

"Because I know you, yn" he said softly, his gaze locking with yours. "You think I would´ve done what I did if you were sober?"

His words hit you like a wave of realization. Shame washed over you, hot and prickly. You hadn't realized how vulnerable you were, how easily manipulated under the influence of your drink. “There we go” He stopped his movements eyes. “All clean” he announced as he placed the dirty wipes over your bedside table.

"I-, I'm sorry" you mumbled, looking down at your lap, playing with the edges of your miniskirt. "I shouldn't have pushed you like that."

He knelt down again, this time untangling his denim jacket from around your waist. As he spoke, his voice was laced with a quiet understanding. "Listen, I know you might be mad at me for… well, everything. But I wasn't trying to ruin your night. I was just worried about you. You were drunk… you are drunk” he said playfully, reaching out and squeezing your cheek as if you were a little kid. “and that Ares guy –, didn't exactly seem like he wanted to be nice, and I can’t handle that. You can´t go around with people you don´t know, you know better than that" his voice dropped again.

He was right, of course. You were a demigod, trained to be aware of your surroundings and the dangers that lurked in the shadows. Yet, tonight, you'd thrown all caution to the wind, blinded by the effects of vodka and fruit juice and the fleeting attention of a stranger.

A pang of guilt washed over you. You squeezed his hand, a silent apology for your earlier outburst.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his lips curving into a small smile. “Besides, we´re friends, right?”

The word felt cold, heavy with unspoken meaning. Friends. You and Luke. The idea was both familiar and exhilarating, a spark igniting somewhere deep within you. You didn´t say anything, but Luke didn´t need you to.

He stood up again and leaned down, surprising you by brushing a light kiss on your forehead. It was a chaste gesture, meant to be comforting, yet it sent a jolt of electricity through you.

"Go get some sleep" he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'll check on you in the morning."

He started to turn away, but before he could take a step, you reached out and grabbed his arm. "Wait" you stammered, your cheeks flushing crimson.

Luke turned back, a questioning eyebrow raised. In that moment, the alcohol-fueled bravado that had propelled you through the night seemed to evaporate. You were left with a newfound shyness, a sudden awareness of the intimate atmosphere that had settled between you.

"Can you..." you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "can you stay a little?"

Luke stared at you for a moment, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He didn't answer immediately. He stood there for a long moment, studying your face, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions.

Emboldened by a newfound courage, you stood up from the bed. You were still a little unsteady on your feet, the remnants of alcohol making your movements slightly wobbly.

Reaching out, you stopped in front of him, his height suddenly a towering presence. You closed the gap between you two in a second. Now you were standing impossibly close, your body brushing against his.

Looking up at him, you were struck by how tall he seemed, how broad his shoulders were. A wave of dizziness washed over you as you registered the clean scent of his cologne, one that you hadn’t noticed before, a scent that suddenly seemed incredibly appealing.

"Luke" you whispered, your voice barely a breath, your eyes tracing the outline of his lips. "When did you get so tall?"

He chuckled softly, a low rumble that sent a delicious shiver down your spine. "Maybe you just haven't noticed before" he replied, his voice a husky murmur.

The playful banter momentarily broke the tension, but the air between you still crackled as heavy as it could. Your gaze drifted back to his lips, now so close you could almost feel the warmth of his breath on your skin.

They were full, inviting, and in a moment of drunken bravery, you found yourself leaning closer, your lips hovering just a breath away from his. "You smell good" you mumbled, your voice slurred but filled with a newfound confidence.

Luke swallowed hard, trying to find his voice. He was dangerously close to you, the heat radiating from your body a tangible thing in the cool cabin air. His muscles tensed, a battle raging within him between concern and a growing desire.

You reached out and toched his thigh, your fingers brushing against the worn fabric of his jean. Slowly, teasingly, you trailed your hand upward, until you reached his belt, hooking one finger to it, and you pulled him even closer to you. The movement was subtle but undeniably provocative, sending a jolt of electricity through Luke's body.

He stood frozen, mesmerized by the sudden boldness you exuded. This wasn't the girl he knew, the playful friend who teased him mercilessly. This was a stranger cloaked in the familiar, and the effect was intoxicating.

His own breath came out in a ragged sigh. Every rational part of him screamed at him to step away, to put some distance between the two of you. You were clearly inebriated, and taking advantage of that wouldn't be right.

But another part of him, a more primal part, yearned to close the gap between you, just a breath away. He had always found you attractive, drawn to your quick wit and fiery spirit. But the line between friendship and something more had always felt too blurry to cross.

Now, with the inhibitions lowered by alcohol, that line seemed to have vanished entirely.

He leaned in closer, the space between your faces shrinking with each passing moment. The scent of your coconut perfume and something uniquely you filled his senses, further muddling his already clouded judgment.

"yn" he began, his voice husky, a warning more for himself than for you.

"Stay" you whispered, your lips still hovering tantalizingly close to his. The raw need in your eyes mirrored the war raging within him. “Stay and make me yours, Luke. Please”

His hand reached up, cupping your jaw as his gaze locked with yours. You tilted your head into his touch, a silent invitation.

"We can't do this, gorgeous” he murmured, his voice a low rumble against your ear. "You're not sober”

"I don't care" you interrupted, your voice thick with a desperation that surprised even you.

Luke felt his resolve crumble. He wanted this, just as much as you did. The idea of kissing you, of finally exploring the feelings that had simmered beneath the surface for so long, of touching you, feeling you, was undeniably tempting.

But a sliver of sanity remained. He knew that taking advantage of you in this state would be a betrayal of your trust, something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for.

"But I do" he countered, his voice firm yet gentle. "If I'm doing this with you, I want to do it right. When you're sober and can make a real choice. When you can remember"

A wave of disappointment washed over you, but a tiny voice in the back of your head, untouched by the alcohol's haze, whispered its thanks. He was right. This wasn't the way you wanted things to happen.

So you nodded slowly, a small pout forming on your lips.

"Alright" you mumbled, letting go of his belt loop. “Can you still stay a little longer, though?”

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. He leaned down and brushed a soft kiss to your cheek, the touch feather-light, sending another wave of warmth through you.

"Go to sleep, trouble" he chuckled, the sound warm and familiar.

You walked back onto the bed, a strange mix of disappointment and relief swirling within you. As you drifted off to sleep, Luke pulled a chair beside the bed and settled down, keeping a silent vigil over you.

You immediately fell asleep, your mind could be running as fast as it could, but your body told another story. He watched you sleep for a moment, then left and went back to the party.

On his way back, he couldn’t help it but smirk to himself, a gushing and warm feeling rushing on his chest as he realized how close he had you. How his feeling were not so oblivious to you, and now that he knew, he wouldn’t have to work so hard to have you, or hide any longer.