#and finally bottom right is Aphrodite | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thedreamlessnights · 10 months ago

Note

Since requests are open, here's my suggestion: I recently revisited my old mythology book and found one of the myths about aphrodite bathing in a lake and blinds some pervs that sneaked up to watch her. Now, the reader might not have the powers of a goddess but you know what she does have? A dagger-happy vampire boyfriend more than willing to shank unwanted peeping toms (in his defense, he actually asked if he could be there, so no harm done here). Idk, I just like the idea of the reader having scary dog privileges and Astarion not minding looking menacing/scary while doing so

Thank you so, so much for this request, anon. It's an absolutely incredible concept, and it fits Astarion so well! I had such a fun time writing it, and I really hope you enjoy the result!

For Your Eyes Only

Astarion x F!Reader - NSFW

Content warnings: Mentions of brief, non-consensual voyeurism. Somewhat graphic violence, as well as mentions of blood, degrading terms, and the description of an injury and death. Explicit sexual content, including: oral sex (receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, blood drinking, and ear play. Tags: Takes place post-Cazador, some point in Act 3. Includes mild spoilers. Established relationship, a bit of emotional hurt/comfort, and tender smut.

Word Count: 5.8k

After the darkness and chill of the Shadowlands, the heat in the city feels suffocating.

You missed the warmth dearly back then, trudging through despair and gloom, thinking of nothing but the inevitable relief of the city. Your bones always ached something awful in that foul place, never warm enough to ward away the icy air. Now, though, it occurs to you that you hadn’t fully appreciated the cold when you had it.

The sun that streams down from the skies is blistering - scorching, even - and without reprieve or relief. Sweat courses down your neck, soaking the collar of your shirt. Your socks are damp inside your boots, and where the leather meets your calves, they’re chafing.

Gods, what you wouldn’t give for a bit of that chill again. Even with the achy bones.

What’s worse is the mud, somehow. One would think that Baldur’s Gate would be scarce on its share of the stuff, but it’s everywhere. Tracked up from Rivington, puddling in the streets, clinging to the bottom of boots.

Granted, your boots have seen more than their fair share of mud since the nautiloid: sticky, wet, warm. It’s seeped into socks and splattered across new armor, stained some of your favorite nightwear. Sometimes, when you’ve finally settled down for dinner, you’ve been able to taste it. No amount of scrubbing rids you of the earthy, bitter taste for long.

The mud in front of you is different, though. By all accounts, the heat should have baked everything at least somewhat dry, but this puddle remains. If it can even be called a puddle, really. The gloppy, wet mess looks more like a pond, and completely blocks the only path ahead. Even the edges of it remain entirely liquid. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it’d just rained.

A quick glance at your map confirms what you’d feared; this is the only nearby route to your destination. You’re on the outskirts of the city. Rock walls line either side of the path, too steep to climb. You know for a fact that Shadowheart had recently used your last Potion of Flying. Either you lose hours of progress to get Gale from camp so you can cross, or you’ll have to proceed through this stupid pond.

Astarion watches you eye the mess with a dramatic flick of his wrist. “Oh, by all means, darling, you go first!” he exclaims, raising a brow. “It won’t be me jumping in that slop.”

Karlach frowns at the mud’s appearance, tapping the toe of her boot against the surface. It ripples at the movement, brown waves gently sloshing against the surface of the nearby stone. “Can’t be that deep, right?”

“I don’t know,” you reply. You’re aching for a stick or loose branch, something to measure it, but there’s nothing around. Just grass and stone, the scalding sun on the back of your neck, and the muddy pond directly in the middle of the path.

“I say we go back,” Shadowheart urges. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m not keen on dirtying myself.”

“We’d have to backtrack through hours of traveling,” you point out. “There’s no other way forward. I’ve checked the map.”

“Fine,” she relents, crossing her arms across her chest. “You go first, and we’ll follow behind you. Once we’ve seen it’s safe, that is.”

And, hells, you do not want to step foot in there. Not one bit. Still, do you have much of a choice? Your feet are already aching from the day’s walk. It would be devastating to lose all your progress. So, no - you really don’t have a choice, not if you want to get those Netherstones and stop the Absolute in time. The quakes in the city have only been getting worse.

“Alright,” you finally reply, your voice stronger than you feel.

You step forward, pressing your right boot against the mud, then apply your weight. Your heel breaks the surface with a terrifying rush of movement, and your leg instantly slides down into the muck - much deeper than you’d thought, deeper than it should be. When your foot hits the bottom, sticky, cold mud splatters up, painting your shirt, neck, and parts of your face.

Suddenly, the day isn’t quite so warm.

When you finally muster the courage to look down, your right leg is submerged up to the knee, soaking through your trousers. You can practically hear the sick squelch of it making its way into your socks, squishing between your toes.

“Urgh,” you mutter, wrinkling your nose as you attempt to pull your leg up. “Disgusting.” But it won’t budge. In fact, your squirming seems to be making you sink down even further. You try to shift your weight, but your balance is uneven with one leg in and one leg out. You’re dangerously close to losing your footing, and every bit you struggle threatens to tilt you face-first into the makeshift mud pond. In a prime moment of idiocy, you plant your other foot in the mud for support, and find your bottom half completely unable to move.

“What a brilliant idea,” Shadowheart says. “Now you’re stuck.”

“Thank you, Shadowheart,” you grit out, sweat dripping down your neck as you attempt to twist yourself around. “I had no idea!”

Karlach steps behind you, laughing a little. “Come on. Up you go, soldier,” she says, leveraging her arms under yours and giving a quick tug. You’re expecting the mud to release you, but it doesn’t. Your legs don’t budge - not even an inch.

“What in the…?” she mutters, giving another pull. This one has more force behind it; when she tries to haul you up, white-hot pain sears up through your ribs, ripping an agonized cry from your lips. No matter how hard she yanks, the mud’s grip only tightens around you. It’s beginning to feel like you’re a brittle piece of rope in a vicious game of tug-of-war.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” she exclaims. “So, so, sorry!”

“What are you doing?” Astarion asks, his voice suddenly sharp. “You’re hurting her! Put her down!”

“So she can get sucked further into the mud?” Shadowheart asks. Her voice is lined with fear now, which is scaring you more than anything else about this miserable situation. “We have to get her out!”

But it quickly becomes clear that no matter how hard Karlach pulls, it’s useless. Every yank is agony, and you only sink further and further. Tears stream down your cheeks from the pain, and your spine feels like it’s gained a good two inches from being stretched, but still nothing. No give at all.

Eventually, Karlach lets you go. Your body plops down in relief, but the mud is somehow deeper than it was before. It’s up to the bottom of your ribs now.

“Fuck me,” she pants, wiping her forehead. “What should we do?”

“How should I know?” Astarion’s face is drawn, more pallid than usual. His lips are pinched into a line. He should be telling you I told you so, making jokes - and you know he would be, if he were anything but absolutely terrified. Your panic is bad enough with the heaviness of the mud on your chest and lower body, but the look on his face? That tells you it’s even worse than it feels.

“Step back,” Shadowheart instructs quietly. “I have an idea.”

Once the two of them are out of the way, she steps forward. Stretching out her hands, she mutters an incantation into the air. In seconds, the slight chill of the mud surrounding you becomes sharp, painful ice that burns against every exposed inch of skin it touches. A very muddy shade of ice, but ice all the same.

Karlach’s axe crashes through the surface and it shatters, breaking around you. After another hit and a moment of digging, she finally has you out: freezing, still covered in mud, and very sore - but alive.

“Thank you,” you manage, choking out the words between your shivering.

“Never say I didn’t do anything for you,” Shadowheart says, smiling a little. She lets out a breath of relief, the tension bleeding from her shoulders. “Now. Turning around, are we?”

By the time you get back to camp, you’re the most uncomfortable you’ve ever been in your life. You’re wet and cold and exhausted, caked with dried mud that pulls at your skin when you move. It’s in your hair, on your face, and in your shoes, squelching with every step. The feeling makes you want to crawl out of your skin. Your ribs are sore and achy, and - on top of all of that - you’ve lost a good day’s worth of travel.

The only thing you want is to fall into Astarion’s arms, but he wrinkles his nose when you come near, holding out a finger to stop you. “Oh, no you don't,” he says. “Bath first. Then you can talk to me, darling.”

It seems no amount of persuasion is going to change his mind, so you head back to your tent and grab a number of supplies - soap, sponges, a towel, and a change of clothes. Your trusty knife for protection. The river is bound to be freezing, but it’s better than sponging yourself down and hoping for the best.

Thank the gods you’d found a decent pair of boots in an abandoned house today, because the ones that are currently plastered to your feet will take days to dry out, even in the hot sun. When you get to the nearby river, you don’t even bother to take them off before you plunge them into icy water, sufficiently drenching them until you can furiously loosen the mud enough to slip them off and toss them onto the riverbank.

The rest of your clothing gets the same treatment: the trousers which slowly pull away from your skin, the shirt that’s splattered with mud and covered in it up to the waist. Your hair will no doubt be a disaster, too.

You’re still sitting in the soaking-wet clothes when you hear the sound of a twig snapping behind you. Your hand instantly grabs for your knife, ready to throw it at whatever threat might be in the woods as your eyes sweep along the trees.

Nothing. You find nothing.

“Darling,” comes Astarion’s voice. He slips out from the shadows, immaculately clean, gazing down at the weapon in your hand with a lifted brow. “Planning to render me dead twice-over?”

“You scared the living hells out of me, Astarion!” you snap, sucking in a shaky breath. The blade drops from your loosened fingers, softly thumping against the dirt. “What are you doing out here?”

He steps closer, taking a seat on a nearby log. “You were taking ages to get clean,” he whines, sprawling out his legs in front of him. “And, unfortunately, our companions haven’t had an argument all night. How else am I meant to entertain myself? So here I am. Trudging through the woods for your company.”

“You could give me a warning next time,” you reply, still a little jarred. “I thought you were someone hoping to catch an eyeful.”

A smirk flickers across his lips. “Oh, but I am,” he says. “Do you mind terribly?”

Against your will, your cheeks heat, and his smile widens. “I don’t mind,” you say. “Not if you behave, that is. Hands to yourself.”

“I’ll be on my very best behavior,” he promises. Leaning forward, he prods your boots, wrinkling his nose at the sight. “Gods below. Those disgusting things should be burned.”

“I have an extra pair.” You move to tug your shirt off, but it’s clinging to you. “Gods damn that stupid mud pile. I should have asked Gale to use a cleaning spell.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion says. “He’s been sulking in his tent all evening. Apparently, being asked to blow yourself up by an old flame doesn’t do much in the way of socializing.”

The shirt finally pulls free, and it’s clear that your smallclothes have received the same treatment as the rest of your garments. Gods, you really should have asked for that cleaning spell. This mud is going to take ages to get out.

“Hand that here,” Astarion says, motioning for your shirt. You toss it to him, and he inspects it closely before setting aside.

“What?” you ask. “What were you looking for?”

“Oh, darling, nothing,” he says. “That’s my ‘to be burned’ pile. We’ll get you a new one.”

You’d argue, but you aren’t very attached to your current outfit - and besides, after weeks of trekking through wilderness and Shadowlands alike, it’s falling apart even without the mud.

“Do what you want with it,” you grumble, finally pulling off your smallclothes. “That shirt was barely surviving anyway.”

You glance over your shoulder and find him observing with a raised brow, slowly taking the sight of you in. You must look like a mess, but you’d never know it from the glint in the eye, or the complacent smile that plays upon his lips. Heat stirs low in your belly, simmering under your skin. Later, you tell yourself. When you aren’t covered in filth.

You lather up the soap on your sponge, scrubbing away the mud the best you can, but the damned stuff takes ages to get off. By the time you’re finally clean, the silvery moon is high in the sky, and your skin is beginning to prune.

Astarion makes a small comment or two, but mostly seems content to watch you in silence. His gaze burns over every inch of exposed skin, leaving phantom heat wherever it stalls. All you want is to get out of this damned river and touch him, but you’re determined to get every bit of the mud off before you do, and it’s taking much longer than you’d hoped.

When you’re finally presentable, you start on cleaning your filthy smallclothes. The soap is slippery, making it difficult to do much scrubbing, and the water alone is doing hardly anything.

Astarion watches you struggling, huffing as you nearly drop the soap bar in the river. After a moment, he lets out an exasperated sigh. “Dearest, you do realize that it would be much easier if you-”

But his words suddenly cut off. His head snaps toward the woods, and every nerve in your body burns with fear. In the span of seconds, he’s lunged forward, grabbed your knife, and darted after the sound.

Not a moment later, there’s a loud crash - some form of impact as he tackles whatever it was that he heard. You instantly push yourself out of the water without thinking, numb, your heart pounding in your chest as you stumble into the forest after him. It only takes a few steps in before you see it: a man on the ground, Astarion’s knife to his throat.

Your stomach churns, and your skin prickles in the air’s chill. How much had he seen? How long had he been standing there?

Astarion is shouting something at him, and the stranger is struggling against his hold, but it’s useless. He’s a scrawny, weak little thing, no match for Astarion’s lithe, nimble strength. No amount of twisting or fighting dislodges Astarion’s grip. After a moment, he finally gives up, cackling like an old hag as his head plops down against the dirt.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you here and now,” Astarion hisses, anger contorting his features.

In response, the man spits in his face. “She’s your bitch, is she?” he croaks. “You can take a turn after I’m done with her.”

Astarion snarls in response, gripping the man’s collar and pressing the blade deeper into the skin until it draws blood.

“Wait,” you call, stepping closer. “Don’t.”

Astarion blinks in disbelief, sitting up, careful to keep his weight on the stranger underneath. “My love, you can’t be serious,” he says. “You want to spare this-”

“Spare?” you echo, cutting off his words. “Who said anything about sparing him?”

Something glints in his gaze as he takes in your words. “Darling,” he drawls, his tone admirational. “By all means.”

He hands you the knife, and you kneel down next to him. It’s heavy in your hand, cold and smooth as you run your finger over the flat edge of the blade. You stare at the shimmer of it for a moment, entranced, somehow calm in the midst of this chaos. Then you slam the bottom of the hilt into the man’s nose.

There’s a sickening crunch before he screams, blood streaming over his mouth and spilling down his chin. Even after last night’s feeding, Astarion tenses up at the smell of it, but the curl of his lip tells you that he won’t be drinking from this piece of absolute refuse.

When the stranger reaches over and grabs at your arm, you almost don’t even realize - you’re so caught up in your own mind, in the weight of the knife in your hand. Then his nails dig into your skin, and everything hits you at once.

The freezing night air. The stinging, throbbing pain that flares through your skin as he claws at you, unable to do much more. The feel of Astarion’s hand, gentle but firm, prying the knife from your grip. It happens before you can even react - a swift slice of the blade, slitting the man’s throat. Dark blood, gushing from the wound and onto the dirt below.

For a moment, there is nothing but the sound of your breathing. Sharp but shallow, straining in your chest. Jagged air that flows in and out, but it does nothing to stop the increasing amount of black in your vision.

You’ve fought and killed more people than you can count so… why does this feel different? Why here, why now? You’ve nearly died before, so why does the scrape on your arm feel like it’s much more than that?

Then Astarion’s hands envelop your cheeks, blissfully cool, and the panic and pain seep out all at once.

“Darling,” he’s saying, half-breathless, “are you alright?”

You manage to nod, and some of the concern leaves his eyes. He runs his fingers over the scrape on your arm, and you wince. “We need to get you patched up,” he murmurs, his brows pinching together.

“Don’t take me to Shadowheart,” you choke out. She’s already done you enough favors, and you won’t be able to stand her disapproving gaze if you disturb her rest after today’s fiasco.

He huffs. “Stubborn little thing,” he mutters, but he doesn’t argue.

Instead, he heads back to your supplies by the river. When he returns, he wraps a towel over your shoulders, and it’s only then that you realize you’re naked. Completely, utterly naked. It had been bold of you to break that bastard’s nose in the nude, but… well, it hadn’t been your intention.

He’s dead now, though. He’ll never look at you again.

Astarion sweeps you up into his arms and carries you out of the woods along with your clean change of clothes, holding you tight against his chest and leaving your soiled clothing behind.

You can’t find it in you to care at the moment. You’ve scrounged up plenty of clothing along the journey; those torn, stained things won’t be missed. Not to mention, if you ever need more, Astarion will gladly steal you some new ones.

He takes you to your tent, and you’re grateful to see that everyone else has turned in for the night. Anyone awake to see you would inevitably have questions, and this only affirms your decision to avoid Shadowheart - if you woke her up to heal a minor scrape on your arm, she’d be seething.

And though she’d undoubtedly be sympathetic after hearing the cause, you don’t think you can muster up the words to tell her what’d happened.

After he’s carefully set you down on your bedroll, Astarion yanks the flap of your tent closed and reaches for your pack, digging through the contents until he’s found some bandages. His grip is gentle as he takes your arm and swipes some remnants of a healing potion over it. You’ve been through this dozens of times, but you can never seem to shake the urge to wince as it sets in - the potion stings just a bit before it soothes, a sharp tingling that fades into a sweet, balming relief.

You’ve calmed down some, warming up in your tent with him, but Astarion’s hands are shaking as he wraps the wound. His brows are pinched together, his swallows are thick and strained, and he can’t seem to meet your eyes, even when he’s done bandaging you up.

“Astarion,” you murmur. “He’s dead.”

He stills in place, jaw clenching as he inhales sharply, still not meeting your gaze. Instead, he glowers down at the tent’s floor, his hands balling into fists. “He deserved so much worse than that,” he snaps.

You don’t argue with him. Instead, you let him fuss over you, taking the time to smooth through your wet hair, plucking out remaining leaves and twigs from the woods. He gets you into a warm, fluffy robe - only the gods know where he’d managed to find something like that - then pulls you close, his thumb stroking over your cheek. You rest your head against his chest and close your eyes, listening to the soft sounds of his body working under his skin. No heartbeat, of course, just the quiet churn of his movements, the rise and fall of his ribs that’s become habit to him.

After a moment, he takes your face in his hands, just as he had in the woods - but when you meet his gaze, there’s a sharp intensity in his eyes rather than fear. He takes you in little by little, tilting your head up to brush his fingers over the fading marks on your neck.

Then he leans in, and you catch the smell of him you know so well, lingering on his skin like soap. Bergamot, rosemary, brandy. It’s what you associate most with him, that sweet, sharp scent that bathes over you. When his lips finally meet yours, the kiss is rough and desperate, heated and aching. His fangs scrape over your lip, grazing the delicate skin but not breaking it. His tongue slides into your mouth, and his hand returns to the back of your neck, tightening his grip.

One of your hands fix into his shirt as you lean into him, nipping at his lip. You shift your free hand up into his hair, tousling through the soft, silky curls before gently tugging. He groans and pulls you closer, and - gods, it’s incredible. Warmth drags down your spine like a hot coal, searing and addictive. You squirm a little in his grasp, shifting until you’re straddling his hips, and he pulls away to kiss down your jaw, murmuring soft words into the skin.

When he gets to your chest, you let him untie the robe and spread his hands underneath, peeling the fabric off your shoulders, fingers slowly warming as they trail down your back. His hands settle on your waist as he kisses you again, mouth soft against yours.

Gods, you need him. You’re already soaked, and he’s barely even touched you.

You can feel him hardening underneath you, his movements growing desperate, his breathing labored. You grind your hips against him and he lets out a strained noise against your lips, shuddering. He pulls away, examining your expression as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

The movement is tender and incredibly sweet, but you’re hardly patient. You’ve been wanting him ever since he sat on that log in the forest, gaze roaming over every inch of you. You let out a soft whine, attempting to tug off his shirt. He does absolutely nothing to help you.

“Astarion,” you breathe. “Please.”

“Hm? Did you want something, darling?” he asks, the desire in his voice betraying his otherwise casual tone.

“I want you,” you tell him, rolling your hips again in search of the friction you so desperately need. “Please. I want you.”

“Easy, love. You have me,” he replies, brushing his thumb against your lips. Your heart swells with a fondness that would threaten to make you cry if you weren’t so ridiculously needy.

And finally, thank the gods, he takes off his godsdamned shirt.

You run a hand up his shoulder, then into his hair. You’d once thought that he was using a special shampoo - his hair was so soft, it seemed the only explanation. Then you’d seen him with the same shampoo you were using, and you’d practically wept with envy over his ridiculously perfect genes. Even now, as you run your hands through the silk-soft curls, you don’t understand it.

Then you trace up the line of his ear, and he shudders, leaning into your touch. When you gently massage the tip of his helix, he lets out a soft, seeking noise and his eyes flutter shut. Hells, you swear that you can feel him growing even harder beneath you. Another roll of your hips and his eyes slowly open again, half-lidded and glazed with desire. His hands firmly grip your waist, and there’s the briefest sensation of falling as he rolls you back onto your bedroll, tucking the pillow under your head.

He kisses along your clavicle, nosing down your ribs, humming against your skin. Feather-light brushes of his lips meet your ribs, then your breast, pausing to swipe his tongue over your nipple before he proceeds downward. When he arrives at your navel, your legs automatically spread open for him, and he lets out a hum of approval. He takes a leg in his hand and kisses up the thigh, warm, sharp kisses that trail up to the place you want him most.

He starts off slowly - a long lick over your clit, a quick swipe of his tongue before he settles between your legs, propping your thigh over his shoulder and starting a maddening rhythm. After all this time, you really should know how much pleasure to expect - but after everything, after his confession in the Shadowlands and the fear with Cazador, this still feels… new.

And Astarion is very, very good at what he does. He seems to know exactly what you want before you do, before your mind can put it into tangible thought, and before your body can even search for it. He works a finger into you, then two, and you’re left gasping and squirming as he sets an agonizingly slow pace. After a moment, he speeds up, just where you want him, perfect, perfect-

And then he pulls away, and the look on his face practically shouts that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Of course he does. He’s always been a tease. His fingers continue their work, languidly dragging in and out of you as he speaks.

“You know,” he says, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “back at the river, this was all I could think about. Getting my mouth on you. Watching you come apart piece by piece.”

Gods, he’s been direct before, but never that direct. Frankly, you’re surprised you don’t come then and there. Instead, you clench hard around his fingers and whimper, rolling your hips in time with his movements.

“Astarion,” you pant, unable to coax your mind into forming a coherent reply. “Gods, Astarion.”

He hums in response, flashing you a wicked grin. “That’s it, darling,” he encourages, shifting his fingers until they’re brushing against a spot that makes your vision black out. “Say my name. Let everyone hear you.”

You manage a laugh that quickly fades into a soft moan. “The entire camp will kill me if I wake them up.”

He nips at your thigh. “Let them try,” he muses. “They’ll have to get through me.”

He lowers his mouth between your legs again, and your head falls back against the pillow. It’s an embarrassingly short time before your muscles start to tense up, wiring you with pleasure from head to toe. One of your hands fixes in his hair, pulling tightly as white-hot pleasure sparks through your abdomen, and oh, gods, you’re coming-

Your vision cuts out again. Your mind fuzzes over, drunk with pleasure, leaving you shuddering, clenching around his fingers, moaning into your free hand.

You know he’d prefer to hear you, but if you actually disturb any of the others, you’ll die of embarrassment. One day, the two of you will have your own house with a real bed, and you’ll be as loud as you want. For now, you muffle your cries into your fingers and tremble through your climax.

Your body floats weightlessly for a moment in what must be Elysium, until you finally rejoin yourself and find your limbs heavy and uncoordinated. Astarion huffs, placing a final kiss on you until he crawls upward, kissing up your chest again.

He’s still holding himself back - you can see it in the way he moves, in the tension of his muscles and the coil of his shoulders. There’s a fire in his eyes, a hunger that you recognize so well. When he reaches your neck, you instinctively tilt your head, allowing him access to his usual spot.

For a moment, he hesitates, his warm breath fanning over the skin as your pulse hammers in your throat. Then he groans, grinding himself into your leg as he bites down, chasing his pleasure against your thigh as your blood spills into his mouth.

You know this routine so very well by now. The sting of the bite, and the numbness that follows. The ebb and flow of your blood, filling his mouth. The slight dizziness that comes before he pulls away, swiping his tongue over the bite for one final taste.

“Gods,” he pants, gripping your shoulder. Then, to your utter disappointment and confusion, he pulls away. “Wait here, my sweet. I need to - I’ll be right back. I promise.”

And before you can protest, he’s scrambling out the tent. For a long, numb moment, you stare at the tent opening, wondering if you’re dreaming. The silence of the tent grates on your ears, echoing the sound of your breathing until you can barely stand it. Then he’s pushing inside again, a scroll in hand as he closes the tent.

“Do I want to know what that is?” you ask.

“A scroll of Silence, darling. I’ve been saving it.” He flashes you a grin, murmuring the incantation as the scroll shimmers in his hand. Pure Weave, confined into parchment.

You don’t hear the spell take effect, but you feel it. It’s a thickness in the air, a heaviness in your movements.

Astarion doesn’t waste another second. He pushes up to kiss you, and it’s messy - your tongue against his, the sting of sharp teeth, your hand in his hair and his hand on the nape of your neck. There’s the taste of metal and herbs: your blood mixed with the remnants of a healing potion. He spreads your legs with his knee, then sits back on his heels and reaches down to undo his trousers.

You study him for a moment. The crease of his brow. The alabaster of his skin, sculpted out like a statue from marble.

If you were an artist, you’d make him your life’s work. You’d chip out his every feature little by little, painstakingly working away at the stone to define the look in his eyes when he tells you he loves you. You’d spend ages carving every wrinkle, every line, every perfect imperfection. The touch of it would be cold, like him, but it could never compare to how he looks as he settles over you, eyes blown dark with desire.

He inches closer, still on his knees, and takes hold of your thighs, lifting them up to meet his hips before gently easing inside of you. He lets out a sharp exhale as he slowly presses deeper, his grip shifting to your waist.

Nothing could compare to the way it feels as he fills you up inch by inch, murmuring praise, telling you how beautiful you are for him. “Darling,” he bites out, gritting his teeth at the pleasure. “If anyone ever tries anything like that with you again, I’ll tear them to shreds.”

You laugh a little, breathless, delirious in the delicious stretch of him inside you. “I won’t stop you. I just might ask to break their nose first.”

He shakes his head, but a small smile plays on his lips before he straightens and starts his rhythm. Slow, even thrusts that leave you grasping at the blankets beneath you, trying to steady yourself in the waves of sensation. He stares down at you, half-drunk on your blood, lips parted and his cheeks flushed.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes. “Gods. You’re incredible.”

Your eyes don’t quite know where to land. They never do. Now, they flutter over his abdomen, taking in the sight of the muscles that ripple and contract with the rolling of his hips. The droplets of sweat that slowly build on his skin, glimmering like crystals.

His jaw clenches, and his pace starts to quicken, and the feeling of him inside of your aching cunt is just so godsdamned good. His cock stretches you out like it was made for you, and soon your lungs are hardly filling with air. You can’t think, and you can scarcely breathe. All you know is that you’re not going to last much longer.

You tug at the blankets and shut your eyes, and he lets out another soft, aching noise as he thrusts deeper, faster, filling you up, the slick sound of your arousal echoing through the tent and mixing with the heaving of your breaths. You clench around him and he groans, shifting the angle of your hips, rhythm frantic.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Come for me, darling.”

And you do. Your body clenches around him as you cry out, back arching, pleasure overtaking every thought but one: Astarion. Astarion, Astarion, Astarion. Your breaths scrape shallowly through your chest and ecstasy burns through every inch of you, every nerve - until you feel paralyzed. Content, thoroughly fucked and sated, but paralyzed.

You’ve just started to come back to your senses when Astarion follows you over the edge, a moan tumbling from his lips that sounds remarkably like your name. His hips thrust a few more times, chasing after his pleasure, clumsy movements that slow to a halt as he shuts his eyes. He shudders, then slackens, carefully pulling out of you before he wraps his hands around your thighs and gently lowers them back to the bedroll.

You can barely move, still lost in the aftershocks of pleasure as he cleans you up, smoothing the hair out of your face as he lays next to you.

“You know,” he says, “I think I’m going to ask Gale to make us another one of those scrolls.”

And, gods, all you can do is laugh.

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fic #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #mywriting

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wlntrsldler · 11 months ago

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heartless | luke castellan

MDNI!!!!!!

fuckboy! luke (kinda) but also kind of loser!luke a little bit. enemies to lovers (more of sexual tension really); not canon, no betrayal, and pokes fun of aphrodite girls but yk i love them, this is just for the plot. ares!reader x luke castellan.

i. never need a bitch, i'm what a bitch need, tryna find the one that can fix me; i've been dodging death in the six-speed.

there were many things about being a half-blood that luke hated. having a deadbeat father ranks highly on the list, obviously, and the lack of exposure to the real world was up there, too. he ran away from camp once during the year when there weren’t many kids around. it was right after his eighteenth birthday when he thought that his life would magically change for the better now that he beat the odds (sue him for being hopeful), but when the clock hit midnight and he was still stuck on his cramped, cot in the corner of the hermes cabin, he decided enough was enough.

he did his final cabin checks and left camp after, wandering aimlessly until he found the train station to take him straight to the city. he hopped over the turnstile and squeezed himself into the crowded subway car. the first thing that struck luke was how different each group of people was from each other. in one corner, there were businessmen in itchy suits, trying to check out the group of girls across from them, clearly dressed for a night out. luke scoffed at them, smirking to himself when one of the men flushed in embarrassment at the fact that luke caught him.

what a fucking loser, luke thought.

there was a girl around luke’s age, sneaking glances at him. she was pretty; blonde, pouty-lipped, and definitely interested. at this point, luke hadn’t been experienced. other than the aphrodite girls flirting with him and the occasional hazed and rushed makeout sessions during the campfires, luke hadn’t done anything with anyone. but if he can make the daughters of the goddess of love blush, surely it couldn’t be that difficult to make a mortal fall under his charm too.

he was right.

he shot her one of his signature smirks, feeling a sense of pride bloom in his chest when she had to grab onto the pole in front of her to keep steady. luke adjusted the navy sweater he had on, tugging on the collar a bit to show off a little skin. his silver necklace sat nicely on his neck and he watched subway girl’s eyes rake over his body. luke bit his bottom lip, motioning for the girl to take the empty seat beside him. her eyes widened, but she did what she was told.

unfortunately, reality caught up with him quickly when a hellhound found him as he was exiting the subway car with the pretty girl (jessie? jane? janet? he doesn’t remember.) around his arm. luke castellan was a lot of things, but a killer wasn’t one of them, so he made some stupid excuse to the girl about why he had to leave just so he could keep her safe. (it killed him to do it. he’s a teenage boy. he has needs.) the girl walked away, upset, huffing to her friends about how he wasted her time and got her hopes up. luke just rolled his eyes and dislodged his small knife from his pocket sitting beside his half-smoked cigarette box, ready to take on the hellhound.

“you couldn’t wait ‘til i at least got to second base?” luke cringed, partly at himself for talking to the hellhound like it could talk back to him. “had to show up right now, huh, buddy?”

he received a growl in return.

the fight wasn’t too terrible, but after the hellhound whimpered, walking away in defeat, luke was too tired to continue his exploration of the real world. he hopped on the train back to camp, clutching the scratch the hellhound left on him. his (only nice piece of clothing) navy sweater was ruined. the thread was falling apart where the hellhound dug its claws in and it was stained with his blood. he would’ve fought better and avoided the injury if his balls weren’t fucking blue.

luke closed his eyes, breathing heavily. even though it was only for a few minutes, the idea of being a regular teenager, flirting with girls, going to clubs, drinking cheap tequila from a plastic bottle, was something luke yearned for. he only got to experience a fraction of it. he wanted to experience it more, preferably without testing death each time.

the older kids heard of luke’s adventure when they saw the counselor walking into the apollo cabin the following morning to get his wounds treated. he made a note to never tell chris anything again because the boy couldn’t keep his mouth shut if he tried. by lunch, the entire camp, including chiron and mr. d, heard about luke’s unplanned visit to the city and his interaction with one of hades’ guards.

“luke.”

he turned around, eyebrows furrowed, then raised in surprise. in front of him were three aphrodite girls, pouting at him. he crossed his arms across his chest, smirking, “what’s up, gorgeous?”

“heard you went looking for some fun last night.”

“are we not good enough for you, luke?”

“why would you go looking for better when you have the best right here in camp?”

luke wanted to laugh. the aphrodite girls were always so bold with their words, but when it came down to the wire, they would never want to disappoint their mom by being with the golden boy-turned-teenage dirtbag. he respected it, though. their allegiance to their mom was admirable. if aphrodite was his godly parent and she gave him the power to always be attractive, he didn’t think he’d do anything to piss her off either.

“why do you think i came back?” luke flirted, running a hand through his curls, “realized there was nobody like you.”

the three girls blushed and giggled, even if none of them knew who his comment was actually directed toward. they waved goodbye to him, and he watched them walk away, admiring the view.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

luke couldn’t stop his lips from quirking upwards at the sound of your voice, “what now, y/n?”

you and luke had been at each other’s throats since you first got to camp half-blood. you, as the daughter of ares, one of his favorites coming only second to clarisse, pushed luke’s buttons like no other. you walked into camp and immediately saw through his boy-next-door facade and saw him for who he truly was. usually, luke would hate you for it, but now, it was hard for him not to think about shutting you up in other ways. less friendly ways, but if he had his ways, just as harsh.

the rivalry began when you were fourteen. the title of best swordsman bounced between the two of you over the years. luke currently has the title, but it was only because he cheated; he swears he’s just better, but there’s no universe where you’d actually admit luke castellan was better than you at something. the five seconds between you being chosen to be head counselor for the ares cabin and him being chosen as the head counselor for the hermes cabin were the best five seconds of your life. it was the only time you held a higher position than him.

luke quite enjoyed your little banter (when you weren’t around to ruin his game). it only got better when he had his huge growth spurt and you could no longer reach things when he held it up over his head. when you didn’t talk and run your mouth (usually cursing at him or cursing him), luke thought you might even be cute. he loved making you turn red, even if it was out of pure anger over his antics, but his favorite is when he gets you tongue-tied because his dirty, teenage brain makes him say something before he thinks.

“there’s no way that actually worked on them.”

“take a look for yourself,” luke motioned to the group of girls who were now whispering and shooting heart eyes at him. “it always works.”

“oh, get your head out your ass, castellan,” you spat.

“spitting is not going to get you the reaction you might think,” luke smirked, eyeing you up and down. your eyes widened and you looked away from him to hide the redness of your cheeks. like that. luke licked his lips, “might actually have the opposite effect on me.”

“you’re disgusting.”

luke let out a full belly laugh as you walked away from him. sure, there were some pretty shitty things about camp half-blood, but there were some pretty great things there too, and messing with you is on the top of his list.

ii. hundred models gettin' faded in the compound, tryna love me but they never get a pulse down.

“do you guys always fight like this?”

you and luke peeled your eyes away from each other at the sound of percy’s voice. the poor boy was looking between his two mentors, torn because he had no idea who to listen to. you sighed, walking over to him.

you placed a hand on his shoulder, “sorry, percy. luke is just… forget it, let’s just try it one more time, yeah?”

“luke is just what?” luke asked, an eyebrow raised in a challenge. “finish your sentence, y/n. c’mon.”

“the words i’d like to use wouldn’t be appropriate for a twelve-year-old to hear.”

“‘m from new york, i probably heard it already,” percy shrugged, pausing. “come to think of it, i probably used it before.”

luke let out a chuckle, patting percy on the back. “my man.”

“can you not encourage cussing, head counselor?”

“fine, i guess you’re just gonna have to tell me what you were going to say later. in private.”

“castellan,” you smacked his chest. hard. you were furious with luke, but you couldn’t help but flush at his suggestive words, “don’t start.”

percy frowned, “i don’t get it.”

luke took mercy on you and wrapped an arm around the boy. he led percy away, promising to continue working on his sword skills later after capture the flag. before they disappeared from your view, luke made sure to turn around to shoot you a wink. you flipped him off in return.

it wasn’t always like this between you and luke. once upon a time, your banters were innocent, like kids fighting over the last piece of candy in the jar. luke literally used to pull your hair when he was behind you in the line for food and you used to stick your foot out to trip him when he was playing tag with his siblings.

but then, he returned from his quest. at first, you felt bad for him. he came back unable to complete it, and he was permanently scarred from it. it must’ve been difficult to have that constant reminder. after a few months, though, when his scar was almost fully healed, the whispers about how attractive luke castellan was started. luke closed himself off after his quest and spent his time doing extra training. you could lie and say that all the extra workouts didn’t do wonders for him, but nobody would believe you anyway.

in short, luke castellan got hot. he was no longer the pesky little boy you bantered with. he got taller, broader, and dirtier. you weren’t dumb, you knew the innuendos that he would throw at you. you were in the same sex ed class as he was in. (side note: mr. d teaching teenagers about sex ed was your own personal version of hell. tartarus be damned.) somehow, luke turned into a teenage heartthrob at camp and all of a sudden, all the girls were throwing themselves at him. it made you sick, but what made you more sick, was that you understood why.

ever since luke’s confidence skyrocketed and he leaned into his bad boy persona, there was a different charge in your banter; as if instead of trying to push your buttons, now, he was trying to get you under him. from blowing his cigarette smoke directly into your direction to all his dirty comments, luke castellan was acting like he wanted you. and surprisingly, you didn’t stop him.

“can y’all just fuck already?” you spun around to find clarisse leaning against a tree, her spear mounted on the floor. she had a teasing smile on her lips, “maybe once you hate-fuck, you guys will get it out your systems.”

“ew, castellan?” you sneered. your nose scrunched up in disgust, though your stomach churned at the thought of it. “never in a million years.”

“dude, the sexual tension between you guys is insane,” she shrugged, walking over to you. “come on, sis, you can’t pretend like you don’t feel it.”

“i feel a lot of things for luke castellan, but wanting to fuck him is not one of them.”

you’re a liar. you knew that. clarisse knew that. but you’re thankful that your sister didn’t call you out on your bullshit.

she laughed, “whatever you say. now, ready to train me?”

you spun your sword around expertly, “always.”

this week’s game of capture the flag was eventful. you lost, much to your dismay, but the results of the game were overshadowed by poseidon claiming percy as his kid. the subject of forbidden kids were a touchy subject, for obvious reasons, but you knew that it was especially hard for luke. you didn’t know thalia well, but with how often annabeth talked about her, you felt like you knew her.

luke never talked about thalia, though. you figured it was because it was too painful for him to think about. he knew her longer than annabeth did and his memories of her were much more vivid than the young girl’s. with percy being poseidon’s kid, you knew that it was bound to bring up some unwanted memories for the hermes counselor. but what shocked you was seeing luke sitting with his siblings at the campfire instead of being surrounded by fawning girls like he usually was. whenever his team won, he would bask in the glory of the win, shotgunning smoke into the mouth of whoever was closest to him before disappearing for a bit only to come back with marks all over his neck.

but tonight, he was sitting next to chris, a beer can in his hand, staring directly at you. the red cup in your hand filled with mysterious liquor was cold to the touch. clarisse was trying to hide the smile on her face as she watched you and luke lock eyes. she mumbled a fake excuse, running away to leave you alone while she tried to find silena. luke chugged the rest of his beer before crushing the can in his hand and walking over to you.

you stood your ground, feet planted on the floor, with your arms folded across your chest. “no celebration tonight castellan?”

“not unless you want to celebrate with me,” he replied.

“shut the fuck up,” you sighed.

luke watched as your arms pushed your tits up your chest. he couldn’t stop himself from biting his lip, watching your chest rise and fall as you took your breaths. he was almost tempted to burn his toast tomorrow morning just to thank the gods that you decided to wear a low-cut shirt tonight. your camp necklace was resting on top of your tits and he wanted to reach over and count the beads on your necklace. four, just one less than he has.

“i love that you’re a sore loser,” he said, pulling out the cigarette that was tucked behind his ear. “makes it so easy to mess with you.”

“‘m not a sore loser,” you argued, absentmindedly pulling out the lighter in your pocket.

he was surprised by your actions. he knew you smoked, but you’d never smoked with him before. he pulled out a cigarette for you which you gladly took. you lit yours first then leaned over for him to light his own. luke shook his head, bringing up his index finger for you to come closer. he lit his cigarette with the burning end of yours, humming in appreciation when the nicotine hit his senses.

“you are,” he blew out the smoke, “but it’s adorable.”

“flirting with me isn’t gonna get you very far, castellan. you should know this by now.”

“what, you want me to be mean to you?” luke said it teasingly, but then he saw your shoulders freeze for a millisecond. he chuckled, darkly, voice dropping an octave when he spoke again. “holy shit, you’re into that.”

“none of your fucking business,” you shook your head, thankful that you had at least one substance already in your system to keep you from turning red.

“it’s hot, y/n, own it,” he shrugged his shoulders, turning a bit to face the rest of the campers. all of the younger kids were off in their own world. they knew better than to hang out with the older kids at these things. he had a cocky smile on his face when he turned to you again, “i can be mean, if you want, y’know. just say the word.”

you downed the drink, needing some sort of liquid courage if you were going to keep this conversation going. clarisse and silena were watching you and luke a few feet away and you can tell by their faces that they weren’t going to come save you from the conversation even if you begged them to. “that kind defeats the purpose, no?”

“what do you mean?”

you wiped the drop of liquor away from the corner of your lips, “having to ask you to be mean. you should just be mean without me asking.”

luke’s eyes darkened. sure, he flirted with you, but you never kept up with him before. you usually tell him to fuck off and walk away, leaving him with a head full of images of your red, embarrassed face, to keep him occupied at night. “noted.”

you shoved the empty cup into his chest, taking a puff out of your cigarette before walking away, “no need to take notes, castellan. i know you’re all talk anyway.”

iii. 'cause i'm heartless and i'm back to my ways 'cause i'm heartless.

luke was pissed. you can tell by the way his shoulders were tense. you just disarmed him during practice, the tip of your sword resting comfortably under his jaw. the title was yours again.

“say you surrender,” you taunted, pushing the sword just a little deeper on his skin, but not enough to cause any damage, “say you surrender and i’ll let you leave with some dignity.”

“this doesn’t count,” he replied, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “i was distracted.”

and he was. you took your shirt off, leaving you in a sports bra, at around the third sparring session. the sun was beating down harshly on the both of you and the lack of a breeze in the air didn’t help. your chest was glistening with sweat and you were breathing heavily. luke took his eyes away from your moves for a second to look at your figure and you took advantage of it.

“no excuses, castellan,” you lifted his face up with your sword, “surrender.”

“fine,” he relented. he got up from his knees when you removed the sword from his jaw, “i surrender.”

“good.” you twirled your sword in your hand, walking away from him to grab a sip of water. your back was turned and luke couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down the curve of your spine. your muscles were defined, no doubt due to the hours of sparring you just did, and your hair cascaded perfectly down when you pulled it out of the ponytail you had it in. he wanted to wrap it around his fist and pull it.

“fuck,” he groaned, trying to push down his hardening cock in his cargo pants. the action didn’t do anything to help. it was no use.

“what was that?” you tossed the bottle of water on the ground as you turned to face him. your eyes widened as you took in the image in front of you. luke was staring at you, lips slightly parted, hair in disarray as if he just ran his hand through it, and his pants were tight around his dick. “luke…”

fuck it, he thought.

“shut up.”

luke marched over to you, grabbing your face with a force that knocked you off balance. it was disorienting feeling his lips hungrily over yours because it felt so damn good. his hands migrated from your face down to your ass, gripping it and massaging the flesh so he could push you closer to him. you could feel his hard cock poking against your skin and you moaned at the feeling. luke wanted to bottle the sound so he could listen to it whenever he wanted to.

he pushed you against a tree, grinding his aching hips against yours. he could feel your wetness growing against his pants. he pulled away from your lips, turning your face to the side to give himself access to your neck. he licked a stripe up your jugular, mixing his saliva with the sweat on your skin. he started his attack on your neck, nipping, sucking, licking, everywhere he could. you couldn’t help but whimper at his actions.

against your better judgment, you pulled him away by threading your fingers through his curls. his eyes were closed, mouth agape when he knocked his forehead against yours. you tugged on the hair by the nape of his neck, “you’re not fucking me, luke.”

“fuck, okay,” he breathed out. he was horny, but he respected your wishes.

“not today,” you placed a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling away. his lips followed yours, but you tutted, “but you can watch me if you let me watch you.”

“yes,” his eyes snapped open, moving away from you to give you space.

“come here,” you walked away from him, motioning him to come to the patch of grass secluded from the training area. he followed you, hissing as he tried to adjust himself in his pants. you lay on the grass, propping yourself up on your elbows. your hand slowly trailed down to your pants before you dipped your finger inside your underwear. your back arched as you felt how wet you were from the earlier interaction with luke.

luke sat at your feet, undoing his pants. he pulled out his cock; red, dripping, and angry. he felt his confidence rise when you moaned at the sight of it. his veiny hand was wrapped at the base of his cock, slowly pumping. his voice was broken as he spoke, “let me see you.”

for a moment, you were vulnerable, hesitating to expose everything to him. but luke’s face showed nothing but desire and you melted under his gaze. you shimmied out of your pants, tossing them somewhere near, before opening your legs for him to see you. your fingers pulled apart your folds, showing him your slick-covered pussy.

“prettiest fucking pussy in the world,” he groaned, watching as you circled your clit. “fucking perfect, y/n.”

his words spurred you on. you dipped two fingers inside, mewling at the stretch. luke flicked the tip of his dick, moaning at how your fingers disappeared as you pumped them inside you. he can hear your wetness loud and clear and he wanted nothing more than to slurp it up with his tongue, but he can be patient. this can be enough for now.

his hand moved faster on his dick, the muscles on his arm tensing with each stroke. he watched as you threw your head back in pleasure, admiring the marks he left on your skin. a feeling of possessiveness bloomed in his chest knowing that he marked you.

“want a taste?”

luke nodded, crawling over to your outstretched fingers while still pumping his cock. his lips hollowed to suck off your juices from your fingers, eyes closing at the sweet taste. his tongue danced between your fingers, licking them clean. you watched in awe as he hungrily sucked off your fingers. there were beads of sweat trickling down the edge of his face, his curls were sticky on his forehead, and there was a look of pure bliss on his features.

“so sweet,” he whispered, letting your fingers go with a pop. “fuck, y/n.”

“luke,” you panted, continuing to get yourself off. “i’m close.”

“give it to me,” he said. his voice was nearly gone. “need it.”

there was something about luke castellan begging you to cum for him that made your head spin. you came, hard, all over your fingers while he watched you come undone. the image of you cumming, the whisper of his name leaving your lips, was going to be burned into his memory forever.

“i’m coming,” luke groaned, the veins in his neck popping out as he gritted his teeth. “open up.”

you moved closer to him, leaning down with your tongue out for him. he pumped his cock until white spurts covered your pink, patient tongue. he wanted to take a picture of you right now for later. eyes closed, makeup on your face ruined, hickeys on your neck on full display while his cum coated your tongue. you were a wet dream come to life.

luke gripped blades of grass with his other hand, trying to steady himself as he watched you swallow his load. when you opened your eyes, you opened your mouth to show him you didn’t waste a drop, and luke couldn’t do anything else but kiss you to show his appreciation.

you had avoided luke after your training session. you didn’t know what got into you doing that with him, but one thing was for sure, the tension didn’t disappear after it. it just got worse.

everywhere you went, you felt his eyes following your every move. he would stare at you, eyes narrowed, during classes or during meals. but he never did anything.

until he lost at capture the flag. you skipped the celebration, opting to stay alone in the ares cabin to avoid running into luke. the whole situation left you with so many questions that you were afraid to get the answer to. you fucked yourself in front of luke. and you liked it. there hasn’t been a day since when you didn’t think about his cock and how it would feel inside of you. it was getting pitiful how often you got off thinking about him. his sounds, his face when he came, his taste. everything.

you were getting ready for bed when you heard the door of the ares cabin slam open. you turned your head, eyes widening, when you saw luke walking towards you, kicking the door shut. he didn’t break eye contact with you as he reached the foot of your bed.

he licked his lips, “you’re avoiding me.”

“i’m not,” you lied, tugging your blanket up to cover yourself. “was just too tired to celebrate.”

“bullshit,” he ripped the blanket away from your body, “you want mean, right? i can give you mean.”

you pushed your thighs together, making him smirk.

luke got on your bed, his knees on either side of you. he pushed his head into the crook of your neck, leaving rough kisses on your skin. your hands flew up to his hair, pulling softly, “my pretty girl won’t betray me.”

it took you a minute to realize that he wasn’t talking about you. his fingers rubbed on your clit over your pajama shorts, making you arch into him. you whimpered, “luke, please.”

“nuh uh,” he pulled away from your neck, “you don’t get to say please, anymore. you’re gonna take my dick until i’m done.”

luke connected your lips. his lips were relentless against yours, tongue forcing its way into your mouth. he groaned at the feeling of your hand reaching down to palm him. he grinded his hips into your hand, lips sloppily crashing against yours. luke put all his weight on one arm, using the other one to lightly wrap his fingers around your throat. he did an experimental squeeze, growing harder when you moaned in pleasure at the pressure.

clothes were flying off both of your bodies after that. your pants drowned out the faint hum of the campers away at the campfire. luke pulled away from your lips, marking your neck again. the hickeys he left you were already fading and he hated not seeing the remnants of his time with you on your skin. he trailed the hickeys down your body, spending extra time on your plush thighs. he pried your legs open, sighing in content when your pussy welcomed his thick fingers.

he pressed his tongue against your folds, closing his eyes at the sounds of pleasure that left your lips. his lips wrapped around your bud, sucking, until you were lifting your hips up. he placed an arm across your stomach, pressing down on you to keep you still. from where you were lying, you could only see his eyes. his eyes were boring into yours, watching your reaction to learn what you liked. when his tongue darted inside of you, touching that spongy part, your face contorted in unparalleled pressure and luke knew that he needed to keep hitting that spot.

you were a mess under him. you’ve never came before unless it was your own doing, but you were dangerously close to the edge with how luke was eating your pussy. he was determined to have your wetness coat his tongue. he’d been dreaming of tasting you since you last let him. he’d been craving it.

when your thighs pressed against the side of his head, he knew it was coming. he used his thumb to draw figure eights on your clit. you came with a cry, his name repeating off your lips like a mantra, like a prayer.

luke pulled away from your pussy, wiping the wetness on his chin away with his forearm. he pumped his cock in his hand a few times, hissing at the pain of it being forgotten.

“luke,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. you clung onto him like a lifeline. “give me a second.”

he took in your state. all fucked out just from his tongue. his jaw ticked, “been givin’ you space for days, don’t think you deserve any more.”

“fuck!” you cried as his dick entered you. luke had to shut his eyes to keep himself from cumming. your pussy was so tight and so wet and so greedy for his cock. he pushed all the way in, stopping for a moment to catch his breath.

“perfect fucking pussy, like i said,” luke’s voice was hoarse as he thrusted into you. his hand grabbed one of your tits, flicking the hardened bud with his fingers. he continued to snap his hips into you as he leaned down to your ear, “been thinking about fucking you dumb with my cock.”

“been-ah- thinking about it too,” you admitted, cheeks growing red at his words. you were clawing at his back, no doubt leaving marks, “been touching myself thinking about you.”

“looks like you’re the one who’s all talk, y/n,” he was going faster now, reveling in the sounds that your connected bodies were making with each push of his cock. reminders of your first orgasm were all over his base. “made me watch you fuck your perfect pussy, then-fuck- avoiding me.”

“didn’t think you were serious with your words.”

luke pulled out of you completely. you got a good look at him for the first time. his nostrils were flared, chest heaving as he pumped his cock in his hand. he made a noise, “seems like i’m not doing my job right.”

you reached out for him, pussy tightening around nothing, “huh?”

“you’re still being smart,” luke grabbed your hips then and turned you around. you arched your back for him, giving him a view of your ass. he rubbed his hands over the flesh, slapping it. he pushed your head down on your pillow, wrapping your messy hair around his fist. he leaned over to whisper in your ear, “told you, i wanted to fuck you dumb on my cock.”

he thrusted into you with fervor, skin slapping as he took you from behind. luke watched as your ass bounced sinfully against him as he pushed his cock deeper into you. with this angle, he can can push into you more easily. he was on his knees, holding your hips flush against his body. the sounds you were making as his cock found your pussy were delicious.

you were incoherent then, mumbling into your pillow, begging for him to keep going. luke wasn’t planning on stopping anytime soon. when your second orgasm of the night came crashing down, you screamed luke’s name loudly.

he came inside you, ropes of milky cum coating your gummy walls. he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily as he moved your hair away to place kisses on your back.

when you both got dressed, luke left a lingering kiss on your raw lips. he left one last hickey on the side of your jaw, “training. tomorrow. don’t be late.”

#frances writes #frances song fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #i need water

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7s3ven · 1 year ago

Text

NOBODY’S SON, NOBODY’S DAUGHTER. luke (pjo) pt 4

PART 1 > PART 2 > PART 3 > PART 4 (last pt)

( masterlist )

IN WHICH… Y/N is chosen for a quest, one of which Luke knows she might not return from. When she returns a three months later, he vows to never let her go again. After all, the son of Hermes and the daughter of Zeus can never stay apart for long.

“I’m in the wind, you’re in the water. Nobody’s son, nobody’s daughter.”

Warnings : gore, violence, really descriptive words of gore (it’s lowkey grossing me out), complicated relationship, doesn’t follow canon plot, just a little bit of swearing

—

TAG LIST : @lostinhisworld @julielightwood @outerbanks-stuff @jennapancake @csifandom @evrybodydies1 @kkrenae @s0ulsniper @annispamz @justanotherkpopstanlol @soraya-09 @simpforeveyone @papichulo120627 @corpsebridenightamare @lilacspider @prettylilsimp @urmomsbananabread @ur-lacol-dsylexic @hottiewifeyyyy @kamiliora @be-bap @finnickodaddy @th0tblckgrl @shoyofroyoyoyo @uniquely-her @imafrkinsimp @syraxesrevenge @ahh-chickens @dracoslovergirl @midnightstar-90 @8812-342 @liv1104 @krkiiz @arialikestea @ch16rles @lizziesliz @maryclx01 @lukecastellandefender @yuminako @coryoskywalker @julielightwood @crybabysbakery @jsbaby @liviessun @p3pperm1nttea @angie-esc @purplerose291 @prettylilsimp @10ava01 @froggiesstalks @happy-jj @czennieszn @gisellesprettylies @loveyava @csifandom @luvvfromme @mashiromochi @kamiliora @yorksyree @mqg125 @jamesmackreideswife

—

Three months without Luke. Three terrible, lonely months without him. They were supposed to be on a break but they hadn’t spoken since capture the flag.

Luke stopped talking to Lana and Allen finally stopped annoying Y/N after she accidentally electrocuted him again, but worse. It was safe to say he spent a few weeks with the Apollo kids.

Y/N sat alone at her table, picking at her food. Percy looked as lonely as her. With no siblings to sit beside, they were left in their own company.

Y/N almost jumped when someone sat beside her. Part of her wished it was Luke and she felt disappointed when it was only Mai. “Hey.” She softly said, leaning forward. “You’ve always wanted to go on a quest, right?”

In all her ten years at camp, Y/N had never been on a quest. It’s not like she wasn’t a top candidate because she was. But nobody really wanted an unclaimed demigod on their team, even if she was more than qualified.

“I guess.” Y/N shrugged. Her occupied mind wasn’t really focused on quests right now. Mai’s beautiful brown eyes shined even brighter as she grinned, her eyes crinkling.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone until Chiron announces it… but I’ve been chosen for quest.” She squealed, kicking her legs.

“And?” Y/N raised an eyebrow as she slowly chewed on her food. Why was Mai telling her that? They weren’t exactly close and they had barely spoken since Y/N’s night in the Aphrodite cabin.

“I want you to know that you,” She lightly poked the tip of Y/N’s nose. “Are coming with me.” Mai giggled as she stood up, rushing off before Y/N could even question it. Y/N whipped her head around, speechless. She could hardly focus on training with Luke haunting her mind. How was she supposed to help with a quest?

She slowly sighed, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. When she felt someone burning holes into her with their gaze, she lifted her head. To no one’s surprise, it was Luke. He quickly looked away, resuming his conversation with Chris as if nothing had happened.

Y/N gripped her fork. Maybe a quest would be good for her. She could get away from Camp and focus on lashing out all her anger on the poor monsters.

After breakfast, Chiron gathered up the camp’s best fighters and possible allies for Mai on her quest. Y/N wasn’t surprised to see Luke and Clarisse lined up beside her.

Y/N shifted around awkwardly, uncomfortable with the idea of standing next to Luke. The air was thick with tension and not just because everyone was eager to get chosen. Y/N’s fidgeting caught Luke’s keen eye but he didn’t say a word, simply turning his gaze to look ahead once more.

“The Oracle has confirmed what we expected.” Chiron uttered, his hands clasped behind his back. “The monsters are attempting to enter the mortal realm, which is bad news for both us and them. Their base of operation lies in New York, which is where you will venture to. Time is of the essence. I have selected the best candidates to join you on your journey.”

“Y/N.” Mai suddenly cut Chiron off.

“Usually, one waits to head at least one name.” Chiron retorted.

“I know all their names. I want Y/N. If there’s anyone who can help me succeed, it’s her. I mean, she’d probably push me down a flight of stairs if it was part of the quest. And I need someone like that.” Mai’s eyes scanned over the rest of the demigods, weighing out all her options in her head. “I also want Clarisse. If we run into a monster and we don’t weapons, I can count on her to slay it with a piece of paper.”

Luke parted his lips to say something but no words came out. For the first time in three months, he talked to Y/N. “Hey.” He jogged towards her, staring down at her with so much emotion in his eyes. “Um, I know we haven’t talked in a while but… stay safe. On your quest, I mean.”

Y/N slowly and stiffly smiled. “Thanks… Luke. I’ll try my best.” She nodded.

“Wait, Y/N.” Luke called out, reaching for her again. “Don’t die. Please.” He grabbed her face, kissing her with so much strength and passion that it felt like her were turning to jelly. “This way… you have to come back because we definitely need to talk about that and our break.”

“Y/N, you coming?” Mai asked, turning around just as Luke pulled away.

“Uh…” Her cheeks flushed red. “Yes. Yeah. I’m coming, Mai!” She looked at Luke and poked his chest. “Stop being confusing and learn to communicate more while I’m gone. See you soon, Luke.” She hurried off, faltering when Mai slung an arm around her shoulder.

Luke didn’t really care about the other demigods being sent off on dangerous quests but if Y/N didn’t return, he swore he would set the world on fire. And he always kept his promises.

Camp was lonely without Y/N, even if all he did was stare longingly at her. “Hey, Lana.” Luke uttered as he leaned against the walls of the Aphrodite cabin, arms crossed over his chest. “How do I… improve my communication?”

“Is this about Y/N?” Lana questioned, tilting her head to the side.

Luke lightly scoffed. “Of course it is. She deserves better but I can’t see her with anyone else so I want to become better.” Luke ran a hand through his hair, clenching his jaw. “I thought that since you’re an Aphrodite kid, you can help me.”

Lana stared at him with a pointed look before she lightly huffed in amusement and nodded. “Okay, first of all… we need to fix your communication problem.”

“I do not have a communication issue.”

“Your relationship with Y/N says otherwise.” Lana raised her eyebrows while Luke sighed. “You see what I mean? So first, communication. Second, words of encouragement. Make her feel special. Validate her. You love her, yes? Then show it. Actions speak louder than words. Once Y/N comes back, you’ll be a whole new person. With my help, duh.”

Lana grinned, pulling Luke into the cabin. “You don’t need a physical makeover. You’re the definition of a pretty boy. What you need is a new mindset. Sure, you and Y/N are in a rough patch with all the arguments.”

Lana slightly scrunched up her nose as she chuckled.

“But if Y/N is this special to you, then changing for her should be no problem. I won’t lie, it’s gonna be hard, Luke. For now, I’m going to make you watch To All the Boys I’ve loved Before, all of the movies, because they have terrible communication. And you’re also gonna watch Say Anything because you need to see the boombox scene.”

“I’ve seen the Lloyd boombox scene, Lana… I’m not holding up a boombox.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Luke groaned, holding his face in his hands. “Okay. I’ll hold the damn boombox.”

“And play Lana Del Rey?”

“Why Lana Del Rey?”

“Because Y/N loves her. And it’s Lana Del Rey. Who else would you play? Besides, I’m sure Y/N is having a great time and I am in dire need of some toxic love songs here.”

Y/N stared at the hypnotising and flashing lights in front of her. “Let me get this straight,” She muttered, turning to Clarisse and Mai, “We need to get in there…” She pointed at the only entrance, “But the only way to do so is…”

“To walk in. As one of the models.” Mai quickly finished Y/N’s sentence, nodding her head.

Y/N sharply clicked her tongue. “Why not cause a distraction? That seems easier. I mean, we could definitely pull off the model look because we’re all pretty hot but it’s risky.”

“Y/N’s right.” Clarisse piped up. “Lucky for her, I’ve come up with the perfect distraction. Get ready to run in.” The Ares girl cunningly grinned while Y/N and Mai hid beneath a table.

“So, what do you think she’s going to do?” Y/N questioned, peeking out from under the white cloth.

“Maybe pull a fire alarm?”

Y/N shook her head. “That’s not her style.” A loud boom suddenly echoed through the hall. Exploded bits of stone and rubble smashed against the tiled floor, a few bits scratching Y/N’s ankles.

She pressed her lips into a line as she looked at Mai again. “Yeah. That’s more of what I was expecting.”

At this very moment, Y/N hated the number three. It seemed to bring bad luck to her. Three months without Luke and three months on a quest. That was practically six months without his energetic company.

Y/N quietly scoffed to herself. She couldn’t believe that after all this time, Luke still plagued her mind like a disease. Except he wasn’t a disease. Once upon a time, he was Y/N’s light in the darkness.

“What are you doing?” Clarisse asked when she found her best friend curled up in a blanket and rolled up into a small ball.

“Uh… Sleeping?” Y/N came up with a lousy excuse. Clarisse rolled her eyes and lightly kicked Y/N in the side.

“Get up. We’ve got to get to camp before any more monsters find us.”

It had been a difficult mission but Clarisse, Y/N, and Mai had managed to pull it off. Y/N slowly stood up but froze when he heard a loud roar echo through the trees. She and Clarisse exchanged a panicked look.

“Wake Mai up!” Y/N exclaimed, shoving as much as she could into her bag. Clarisse violated shook Mai awake, not giving the groggy girl time to adjust to the light.

The trio sprinted through the woods, trying to stay ahead of whatever was hunting them down. Y/N loudly panted as she reached the top of the hill. Her lungs felt like they were on fire. Unfortunately, neither Clarisse and Mai were blessed with her lighting fast running and the two girls were still lagging behind.

The monster burst through the thick foliage and Y/N’s heart fearfully skipped a beat. “Is that…” She trailed off in shock, staring at the beast with wide eyes.

“It’s a fucking manticore!” Clarisse shouted, pulling her sword out of its sheath. Everything was still and nobody dared to move as the Manticore growled at the group and circled around them.

“One of us has to distract it.” Clarisse quietly muttered as to not alarm the monster.

“I’ll do it.” Y/N quickly replied, reaching for new spear.

Mai pulled out a dagger, gripping it tightly in her left hand. “It’s my quest, guys. I’ll distract the manticore and you run.”

“No way.” Y/N shook her head, “I can take it.”

“I promised Luke I’d keep you safe.” Clarisse sneered, adjusting her stance. “So it should be me.”

“Now is not the time to talk about Luke and I’s complicated relationship.” Y/N snapped, flinching slightly when the manticore growled again.

“He kissed you, Y/N. I’d say he still has plenty of feelings left for you.” Mai’s eyes carefully followed the manticore’s moves. It seemed to have enough of their bickering and it lunged at the person closest to it. That person was Mai.

She screamed as the manticore attempted to claw at her face. Clarisse slashed through the monster’s wing and it howled in evident pain. Its scorpion tail reached for Y/N but she jumped back before the stinger could pierce her flesh.

“I could use some help!” Mai shouted as the manticore’s sharp fangs sank into her right shoulder. Y/N knocked the monster off Mai and quickly helped the girl up.

“I’d say the cut wing is plenty of distraction. Now I would prefer to run before it stings us all!” Y/N exclaimed. She was lucky enough to dodge it’s stinger the first time but she couldn’t guarantee her success at doing it again.

Clarisse hacked at the manticore’s eyes, almost slitting its face open. “Let’s go!” She screamed, pushing an injured Mai towards camp. Y/N took off after her friends but the manticore made one more desperate lunge for a target.

Its stinger sank into her leg and she screamed in pain. Y/N stumbled, eventually falling and hitting the hard ground.

“Y/N!” Clarisse turned back, sprinting towards the H/C-nette.

The manticore pulled its stinger out with a loud squelch and it’s claws sliced at Y/N’s leg, creating a gash so bloody that Clarisse had to look away in fear she’d throw up at the gruesome sight.

Y/N desperately stretched out her hand to grab something, anything. When her hand brushed against a decently-sized rock, she grabbed it and whacked the manticore.

She scrambled up, pulling out her spear once more and hurling it in the direction of the monster’s heart. The sharp weapon pierced its chest and the monster exploded into golden fragments.

“Shit, shit, shit. We need to get you back to camp.” Clarisse said, panicking as she watched light grey veins stem from the sting. That was never a good sign.

“What’s taking them so long?” Percy asked as he sat beside Luke, holding a plate of food. It had been ages since Mai, Y/N, and Clarisse had left

“A quest takes time.” Annabeth butted in, “And this sounded like a hard one, even for them.”

“I’m sure the three of them can handle it.” Luke said, mainly to reassure himself that Y/N hadn’t died a painful and untimely death. Percy’s eyes flickered to a trio approaching the top of the hill.

“Hey.” He nudged Luke, “Is… Is that them?”

Luke could recognise Y/N’s H/C hair from a mile away. He stood up, accidentally hitting the table. That was Percy’s unspoken answer. Mai and Clarisse had Y/N’s arms slung around their shoulders as she limped forward. But Y/N suddenly tripped and the three of them stumbled, more like rolled, down the hill.

“Oh. Shit.” Luke was the first to react. He ran over to Y/N, who was lying underneath Mai. She groaned under the weight of the other demigod.

“I told you to be careful with your shoulder.” Clarisse grumbled, pulling Mai off Y/N. Luke hurriedly helped her up.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“Apart from almost getting my leg torn off and the venom spreading quickly, I’m great.” Y/N awkwardly smiled and winced when she moved her injured limb. “Would you mind helping me to the infirmity?” She asked, but Luke was already one step ahead. He easily picked her up and laid her down on the first free bed he saw.

“What happened?” He asked as he looked at Y/N’s slashed leg.

Y/N was silent for a moment before she shrugged. “Manticore.” She said like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was because half her leg was almost falling off. Luke wanted to puke as he merely stared at it.

“Hey,” He said to a passing Apollo kid, “Do you think you could, I dunno, save her before she dies from manticore venom?”

The Apollo kid looked at Y/N’s leg, his nose scrunching up. “It did a good number on you. Mai got away with only a bite.”

“Yeah, I guess it has something to do with Zeus being my father.” Y/N sighed. “But my leg is really starting to hurt now.”

“The venom hasn’t spread to your torso yet so that’s good news. We may have to knock you unconscious because fixing this wound will take some time… and pain. Probably a lot of pain.” The boy called a few of his siblings over, quickly explaining the situation to them.

Luke stepped back to give them space and he waited until Y/N was unconscious before he left. “She’ll be okay, right?” He asked Genieve, one of the most skilled healers.

“She’s a tough girl, Luke. She’ll be fine.”

Y/N awoke a week later. She groaned as she sat up, stretching her arms and popping her back. She yawned, looking around at her surroundings. Multiple get better cards littered the table next to her and she smiled when she saw Percy’s bad attempt at drawing a whale.

“Oh. You’re awake.” Genieve kindly smiled at Y/N, “I was getting a little scared that you were in a coma.”

Y/N moved her injured leg, surprised to see that nothing was left of the grisly cut except a dark scar.

“We did our best but injuries from monsters don’t fully go away.” Genieve sheepishly piped up.

Y/N knew that. It was the same case with Luke’s scar. She jolted at the thought of Luke. Y/N turned to Genieve, wanting to ask where the boy was. She figured that it was finally time to talk with him.

No arguments, no misunderstandings, no blaming each other for something they couldn’t control.

As if understanding what she wanted, Genieve pointed towards the closed door. “Outside.” Was all she said.

Y/N walked towards the door, slowly pulling it open. A cold gust of air hit her and she shivered. Camp was usually warm all year round, even when it was snowing because the snow couldn’t get past the barrier.

Y/N stepped forward, looking around in shock as she sank into the freezing, knee-height snow. She had always wanted to touch it but Chiron warned her that going outside the barrier, even if it was close to camp, was dangerous.

There was a new sparkle in Y/N’s eye as she crouched down to grab a handful. She heard the lulling sound of music and when she looked up, she burst into laughter at the sight of Luke holding a boombox. He held it up high and with pride, not caring about the questioning looks campers gave him.

“You said you always wanted to see and touch snow… so I brought you some.” Luke uttered, his voice overlapping with the melodic sound of Lana Del Rey.

Tell me I'm your national anthem.

Red, white, blue is in the sky.

Summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes.

“I don’t care what you do, Sparky.” Luke said as he walked until he was standing in front of her. He placed the boombox down. “Break my heart. Break my heart into a thousand pieces and bury them. Do whatever you want… because I love you.”

Y/N cupped his cold face in her hands, lightly sniffing. She cracked a small smile. “You’re the only one for me, Luke. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too, Sparky. From now on, I’ll communicate with you better. I’ll do anything for you. I’d kill for you, I’d set the world on fire for you. Just as long as I can hug and kiss you and call you mine.”

END.

#luke castellan pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #grover pjo #grover underwood #luke castellan #annabeth chase #annabeth pjo #hermes pjo #zeus pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson series #greek mythology #the lightning thief

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xoxochb · 1 month ago

Note

i’d loveee to request an apollo x daughter ares and aphrodite smut if possible.. 😓

guess who’s back…

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“you’re unhealthily addicted!” your voice is shaky, coming out between uncontrollable laughs.

“addicted?” your husband perks up from your neck, pecks along your in stifling his words. “I simply love my wife, is that a crime? would you prefer I hate you?”

“sometimes I think my life would be far easier if so. you cling to me like a child.”

“you love me, say it.”

you groan and throw your head back, this new angle giving apollo better access of your neck. you only realized this too late. “I love you.”

“great. I love you too.”

“you’re such a fucking ass.”

he remains silent, only a silent hum along your skin, the vibrations sending a shiver down your spine. his hand, once roaming your clothed waist, finds the skin of your thigh from underneath your dress, goosebumps in the trailing wake of his fingertips.

“what do you think you’re doing?” your voice holds skepticism despite your already knowing. very much all too well.

“nothing.”

you roll your eyes. you don’t want to fight this— as much as you would love nothing more than pushing apollo off and taunting him, you also ache for his touch in an embarrassing way that would surely be concerning to all feminism.

so you allow his fingers to loop through the waistband of your pretty pink panties, and at an antagonizing slow pace, pull them down the length of your thighs.

“leaving my dress on? mhm.”

“patience, darling.”

though as soon as the words leave your mouth, his other hand slides the straps of your dress down your shoulders, only reaching about halfway before stopping, ultimately leaving your dress on as predicted.

but with it falling like this, apollo has new access to your chest, kissing over the new skin now. the same hand that had dragged your lace fabric down your legs rubs your thighs delicately, with each, inching closer to your pulsing core.

you wish he wouldn’t tease you like this.

“please. you’re killing me here.”

“we’ve talked about having patience, haven’t we?”

you tug at his blond locks viscously, ushering his fingers to enter you at last.

and they do. but not after two minutes more of whines from your bruised lips.

the utter ecstatic feeling hits you instantly— and half relief from his finally listening to your pleads. though you knew after the first it wouldn’t take long for him to cave into your wishes.

you were his beloved wife after all.

but this also doesn’t mean he’s all that nice to you.

with the most leisurely pace humanly (or not so) possibly, his thumb rubs your clit, surely knowing you will be angry with this. and he is right in that.

“will you…” you try to conquer the words as your brain is entirely fuzzy at the moment. “please.”

apollo does not listen. his lips continue their way along your skin, surely marking you up to the brim. and you had dinner with your mother tonight— you would make sure he would not hear the end of this.

without a warning, a second finger enters you. you bite down hard along your bottom lip, stifling any sound that threatens to escape from your mouth. you know he hates that— but you presume you can tease as much as he can— that’s fair.

your poor eyes fill with tears at the godly effect to which he fingers you, your poor makeup so nicely done ruined by your salty tears.

“I despise you.” your words are gritted through clenched teeth.

but though you say this, you unfortunately love him all the same.

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #trials of apollo #apollo #apollo x you #apollo x reader #apollo pjo #apollo pjo x reader #apollo x y/n #riordanverse x reader #riordan universe #riordanverse

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onismdaydream · 10 months ago

Text

short drabble that has been rotting my brain for months...

tags: 18+/mdni. gender neutral reader. dildos. dirty talk. calling gojo a narcissist. not proofread.

: ̗̀— ➛

“wow,” satoru breathes out, a faint smirk appearing on his mouth as his long finger traces one of the veins. “this is pretty damn accurate."

it's blue. a beautiful and bright shade of cerulean that doesn't quite catch the light the same way his eyes do. you can see the sparkle in his gaze now, like a kid in a candy store, so excited and amazed.

"i should hope so, they claim to be the best." you find yourself echoing his excitement, a dull thrum rushing through your body. you had been waiting for this, waiting so patiently for it to arrive in the mail, and now it's finally here. it's within your grasp. biting your bottom lip to suppress your growing smile, you take the few remaining steps between you and satoru.

"satoruuu," you coo, rising to your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, placing your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself. you can feel the small shudder that runs through him. "do you wanna play with your new toy?"

"now?" he asks as if he doesn't believe you, doesn't believe that you'd let him use it. maybe it was just some cruel joke of yours, to place it directly in his hands but never give him the permission he so desperately needed from you. despite how stubborn and cocky he can be, satoru listens.

"mhm," a hand moves down to rest on his pec, feeling the firm muscle underneath the fabric of his shirt. "put on a good show for me, yeah?"

and he does.

god, he looks so beautiful and perfect like this. that pretty pink flush is painted across his cheeks and his eyes are droopy with pleasure, mouth slightly open as he moans. satoru, you think, was sculpted by aphrodite herself. there was no other explanation for how attractive he is. each curve and dip of his body is so alluring, the way his muscles ripple with each movement, even the sounds he makes leaves you hot and needy.

another cry from his lips and you can't stop yourself from touching. you were planning on watching, but with the sight in front of you? there was no way you could resist.

"feel good, baby?" and your palm is massaging his ass, pulling slightly to see him clench around it. satoru moans in response and pushes back into your hand, eyes glossy with tears of ecstasy.

"yeah? you like being fucked by your own dick?"

drool is starting to drip out of the corner of his mouth, soaking into the sheet beneath him. you don't think you've seen satoru lose himself that quickly in quite some time, his brain too foggy to do anything than move the dildo in and out, in and out.

"such a narcissist, 'toru." you tease, knowing exactly what it's like to be on the receiving end — to be dicked down so good until you can't form a word other than his name, repeating it like a prayer. "you gonna leave me for yourself?"

a pinch of his eyebrows tells you that he is still listening, still present enough to try to protest.

"so in love with your cock that you don't need me, is that right?" and there's a whimper, a tremble to his bottom lip, a plead that it isn't true. that he would never leave you, he loves you, adores you.

but it doesn't mean that he stops fucking himself.

no, it feels too good to stop. the replica of his own cock is bullying against his prostate and his actual cock is practically crying with precum, the constant stimulation pushing him closer and closer to the edge. all he needs is a little push to send him toppling.

your hand wraps around his own and you guide the toy to just the right spot.

"c'mon baby, wanna see you cum."

half a dozen more thrusts of his replica and that cord snaps inside him, his orgasm racking through his body and leaving a mess on the bedding. you manage to catch him before he can fall forward, gently rolling him to the side so he doesn't get covered in his own release. you've made that mistake before.

you carefully clean his body, wiping the lube and sweat and cum and leaving sweet kisses along his skin. satoru's breathing eventually evens out, his heart rate returning back to normal.

"you know i love you, right?" his voice cracks a bit, his throat and mouth dry from panting, but you don't comment on it.

"i know, baby." and your lips against his own is a sacred promise.

#i hope this is okay and not too unreadable lmao #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #perce.doc #.jjkai

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svnny-days · 10 months ago

Text

- ready to love | L. Castellan

━━━ ◦ ⋅🔱 i have a plan!

w.c: 451

a.n: just realized this is starting to seem like random pjo oc x reader but i PROMISE it's not. luke comes in soon i promise! (idk how many chapters this'll be so like... it'll be a fun suprise !) also i will write an apology w/ tears on how long this took to get out.

warnings: not proofread/edited (sorry!) also BI!LUKE

series masterlist || next part

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the struggle to find the right outfit for the bonfire tonight is a lot bigger than you thought it would be. the decision to wear a navy blue baby tee with baby blue stars on it was a no brainer, thanks to clarisse’s help, but you had struggled so hard to find the perfect bottoms and accessories. when that did finally come to you, there was barely any time left to have a moment to relax before the bonfire started. so you went off to the large fire pit and placed a blanket down for you to relax on.

as you busy yourself with enjoying the feel of the warmth of the fire and your eyes are preoccupied with the stars that hang in the sky, the blanket rustles and a dirty blonde haired boy sits himself next to you, “hello love.” oh gods, it’s him. your face flushes already and he’s only said two words.

“hi callum,” is all you could muster out, feeling yourself grow butterflies in your stomach.

the apollo demi-god gently grabs hold of your chin, bringing your face back down from its look at the sky. his light green eyes stare into yours as he smiles at you. gods, his smile is gorgeous. it's like aphrodite herself sculpted him. “you’re the only one with a blanket out here,” he whispers, not wanting to disturb the peace too much even though other campers around you are talking amongst themselves.

you look around and almost frown at the realization that he’s right, “well, maybe… i can start a new trend.”

“yeah? let me know how that goes,” he teases, “maybe we can put the blanket to good use later.” what was that supposed to mean? you shake your head and decide to not question him further. the two of you sit together on your soft blanket as the other apollo kids lead the bonfire.

sometime during the fire, you and the blonde boy had snuck off to a secluded area of the camp, to just talk. and well… that’s not how it’s going now. right now, the both of you have your lips locked together and your hands running underneath each other's shirts, touching the warm skin of each other's body.

this would be a cute moment. it’s your first kiss, your first time making out with a person. it’s in the most gorgeous clearing in the forest, sat atop your soft blanket, the stars are shining bright, everything feels perfect. however, in the shadows of the tree line surrounding the clearing, there’s a certain curly headed brunette boy running away from his hidden spot and back towards the camp with his phone gripped tightly in his hand.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

taglist: @toffytaste @fxiryeon @yourgirl-mila @qalijahbydior @appleofstrife @bubbly0 @blithecapricorn @x-moonz-xd @ahh-chickens @mxtokko @percyjacksonisamazhang @mariamsw0rld @kidkrowk @king4phrodite @kestisvrse @remuslupinsfavoritebook @yuminako @dancing-inasnowglobe @coconut-dreamz @thatpopculturenerd @luhvgalore

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purpleberiii · 1 year ago

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"Worship and Wine"

☆Prompt: In which you worship the gods of Olympus and one in particular takes a liking to you and ends up showing herself one day while worshipping.

☆Warnings: Reader drinking wine from Cabernet's body, Slight smut? Cabernet being referred to as Dionysus, two versions of Cabernet (goddess and human)

The candle light illuminated a perfect glow on the Altar you had in a secret room of your house. There is where you give offerings to your gods and goddesses; Aphrodite, Athena, Apollo, Hera and finally, Dionysus. Despite worshipping many, you felt a strong connection to Dionysus, and you came to love wine as much as he did, and loved going to parties and hooking up with others.

That still didn't stray you away from your gods, you worshipped them each with equal amount of devotion and passion and you can say that they've always responded to your prayers. You had your bowl of apples and grapes, along with several different bottles of wine lined off on Dionysus' Altar. As you closed your eyes to pray, you felt light headed, as if you were going to pass out and before you knew it, you did.

Some time later, you woke up, slightly puzzled as to why you were in your room rather than the Altar. As your eyes slowly opened, you could make out the glimpse of a woman, sitting on your couch you had in your room. Her smooth creamy legs rested on one another and a few empty bottles of what looked like wine had laid on the floor. You slowly looked up to find a beautiful woman, her skin pale as snow whilst her hair red as blood.

She started at you intently, whilst sipping on a glass that had wine in it, judging by the smell. "Staring at a goddess is quite rude I must say," her eyes never leaving you.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my house? Why are you drinking my wine? What's going on?!"

She chuckled as she finally got up and walked towards you. She was tall, extremely tall and you immediately knew that she wasn't human. What was she really? "You've been a loyal follower of my brothers, sisters and I. I was sent to reward you for that."

Half of what she was saying is the truth, the lie was that she was never sent by anyone, she just came on her own. Now that you really thought of it, she did finish out a few bottles of wine, and she did have a bitten apple in her hand when you woke up.

"Dionysus?! Lady Dionysus?!" A smile crept on her face.

"You sound surprised."

"Of course I'd be! I have a literal goddesses in my presence!" You jumped out of bed. "Can I get you anything? Any wine or so?"

"It's no need. I've already finished out the remaining of your wine but I did save one for something special." A shiver ran down your spine as she said that.

She took a seat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs. "You are looked over by all of us whom you worship. Your prayers were answered but you still worship us. Most humans would immediately forget about us once they have what they need. Why?"

"Well Lady Dionysus, I guess I'm not like most humans. You all gave me what I wanted and I'm truly indebted to you which is why I will continue to worship you all until my last breath."

She seemed pleased with your answer. "Only one wish hasn't been answered."

"Yes. But I do believe it will someday. I mean..I haven't done anything to anger Lady Aphrodite right?"

She laughed at your question and frightened state. "No you didn't. You will get it, however, I'd like to do something with you. Would you be up to the task?"

"Anything," your eyes held determination in them. Dionysus smiled and collected the bottle of wine. She slowly took off her dress, not fully. She left the top half of her body uncovered while the bottom was covered. "W-what are you doing Lady Dionysus?"

"This will help you find the one you are looking for." She popped opened the bottle and poured wine all over her body. She leaned back with a smile. "Come, drink wine from my body."

You felt like your Brian had stopped working. Did she really mean drink it from her bare body. "I-isn't it inappropriate to do so?"

"Not if I permit it."

You took a deep breath before walking towards her slowly. She uncrossed her legs so you could stand between them. You slowly leaned down and your trembling tongue lapped her the wine running down her neck. She leaned her head back and sighed.

Wine had never tasted so good in your life and you find yourself wanting more. You licked her clean, not letting a single drop fall. "Good girl. Did you like the way it tasted?"

"I did. Thank you for the opportunity."

"Of course. Now I must get back." She put on her dress while you watched her with an unexplainable expression.

"Do you have to go? Can't you stay?"

"Oh my sweet girl. I do. I cannot linger on earth here for much longer but do know this... I'll always be watching over you, as well as my sisters and brothers. We thank you for not letting us down."

In Dionysus presence, you felt a much more safe and protected and that connection you felt grew stronger, until you realised that you loved your goddess. Even though you saw her for the first time, you wanted to see her forever.

Sensing your uneasiness, Dionysus gently left a kiss to your forehead. "Farewill, sweet one."

Before you know it, only a puff of white smoke was in your room and just like that, she was gone.

You curled up on your bed as tears escaped your eyes, the feeling of longing hitting you hard but it hit her harder.

A/n:

Imma post a part 2 of this. This is my first Greek based story ever so I hope you liked it.

#cabernet franc #cabernet x reader #cabernet franc x reader #path to nowhere cabernet #ptn cabernet #ptn cabernet x reader

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buoyantsaturn · 22 days ago

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read my friends' fics from 2024 or else

The Father Dilemma by ember @gatesofember from the wild west au series

A year after deciding to stay permanently, Nico di Angelo has long since settled into Ladon Creek. He has two bothersome but loyal housemates, a caring community of friends, and a loving partner. His days have never been so peaceful and he never thought he’d feel so happy. But his calm, blissful life is thrown into disarray when he learns some truly sinister news: Will’s father is coming to visit. [T, 6,841, 2/7]

FAR GALAXIES by rosy @rosyredlipstick

She didn’t answer. Instead, she pulled out her PADD from her coat, slow enough that Nico only slightly twitched. Jason’s transmission was loaded up on the screen—at the bottom, their signature tag was spelled out. “Guardians of the Galaxy. That supposed to be a joke?” “More like an aspiration,” Jason said. - Space, the final frontier. Or whatever. [E, 365,994, 14/14]

three-in-one soap by emi @thelordofshrimp

Austin glared at his sister. “Will can’t lie, genius. He says that since he became head counselor, any shower that lasts more than three minutes gets interrupted by someone needing his help.” “That’s… crazy.” Nico considered the number of showers he’d taken even in his short time at camp and imagined if even half of them had been interrupted. “It is,” Jerry agreed. “Not like there’s much we can do about it, though.” “You can always do something about it.” Nico sat up. “There has to be something.” “Not unless you can somehow keep the whole camp safe at once.” [G, 5,798, 4/4]

I wanna make you mine, but that's hard to say by ethan @ethannku

Rather than dignifying Will’s likely insult with a response, Nico took another deep inhale, then tipped his head back to blow the smoke straight up into the air. When he tipped his head to the side, he found that Will was still watching him, his eyes cast low, maybe to Nico’s shoulders or neck or mouth-- [T, 8,615]

kiss with a fist is better than none by lori @sunflowersandscreams

Well, if he wanted to play it like that, then Will would meet him halfway. “I meant it. What I said earlier. I would have liked to make peace so we can get over this whole… whatever, but you just had to be an asshole, so never mind, I guess.” Nico looked at him, bored, a distinct lack of an expression on his face. “You think I’d really believe that? That you’d be so courteous, so kind, as to- what, ‘use your hand as an olive branch’? I’m not naïve, Solace.” “I wasn’t saying that you- it’s not like-” Will bit his tongue. “You don’t wanna be nice to each other? Fine. I don’t care. It’s not like it would change much, or that we could change much, at this point.” “Your guilt tripping isn’t going to affect me.” Nico tilted his chin up, angry now. “Maybe I’m fine with being like this? Or maybe it just doesn’t matter as much as you seem to think it does.” ~ Nico and Will have been rivals slash sworn enemies since the beginning of high school, when they both joined the orchestra. Things change, for better or worse. [T, 62,457, 6/8]

Does This Still Count as Solangelo Week if It's July by alfie @lordstormageddidnt

Will likes cuddling with Nico in his sleep. Nico likes cuddling with Will. But Nico does not like waking up in a pool of sweat because his boyfriend is half-sun-god, half-space-heater. [G, 1,232]

never a clean break (no one here to save me) by katherine @yrbeecharmer from the exes au series

It’s been a year and a half since Aphrodite’s shitshow, since they finally processed the things they never had and agreed to move on, and how many times has Will made it clear they’re fine now? Not that they really talk about it in so many words anymore, but that’s because they shouldn’t have to. They’re friends. Not close ones, but friends. And Nico has a boyfriend. So why on earth is he calling Will, right now, to do this? [M, 12,444]

a sweet tooth for you series by becca @thebhorror

Nico works in a bakery and is determined to make Will fall in love with him his baked goods [G, 23,447]

& if you stay too long it will kill you marble @marbleheavy

As he looked up and stared at the sky, his thoughts seemed to fall through the grates of the fire escape. He could pretend that the flickering light from the planes passing by were stars if he didn’t think too much about it. As if the light pollution hadn’t swallowed the whole of his visible universe. He took a drag from the cigarette and sighed, dropping his gaze back ahead. [T, 1,232]

bulls and blood by allison @rainnows

Cowboys were not Nico’s type. At least, that’s what he’d been telling himself for the better part of two hours, propped up as he was against a fence bordering the arena, where he definitely wasn’t allowed to be, photographer’s pass around his neck or not. [T, 1,213]

#fic rec #solangelo #ember #rosy #emi #ethan #lori #alfie #katherine #becca #marble #allison

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j4keluver · 8 months ago

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To All The Boys I've Loved Before: To Whom it may concern, I like you

casting: reader as lara jean, heeseung as peter kavinsky, sunghoon as reader's older brother, jungwon as josh sanderson, jay as greg, sunoo as lucas, ni-ki as kitty | ft... yunjin as chris, chaewon as gen

warning : explicit sexual implication (no smut) , swearing

synopsis: you've always dreamed of finding the picture perfect boyfriend but high school boys suck. whenever you get feelings so intense but can't put it to words, you write a letter that gets stuffed into a hidden blue box. so why is yang jungwon, your neighbor, walking towards you with a letter in his hand and why are you kissing lee heeseung, gen's boyfriend?

author's note: here's our first officially teaser of the series ! me and tiana (@luvj4key) have been working very hard to produce this series and we are so glad to see many of you loving it ! we still have a lot of responsibilities in our outside life out of tumblr so please be patient and understand that we are doing our best to create quality work for you guys. thank you for all the love ! and we will continue to answer question and build up your anticipation <3

The feeling of the grass tickles your finger tips, almost making you throw a light laugh. The low lit sun kisses your skin and the scent of the earth breathes into your system. It's a sense of freedom and warmth that you can only delve into when getting lost in the carefully written pages and pages of a love story.

In the distance, there is a young boy that seems to enjoy the earth's presence. Sun-bathed skin that soaks up the sun's welcoming rays, playful eyes that hold a keen stare, and flushed cheeks that only Aphrodite could have blessed him with. But it's not just anybody - It's Yang Jungwon.

He catches your stare and gives you a wistful smile, slowly making his way to you. You can only stand still when he finally appears right in front of you. His calloused hands reach up to your face to caress the soft skin of your cheek. Jungwon's eyes flutter closed and it's like your eyes close on command. He leans in ever so slightly, the tip of his nose touching yours in a light nudge. His breath is getting closer to your lips until -

"Hey ! What was that for?" you groan. The pillow Riki just threw at you is now somewhere on the ground onto of a mountain of unfolded laundry. You look up to him from your book to see him leaning on your door frame.

"Well in case you didn't notice, dinner is about to be ready. We've called you like six times," he rolls his eyes. Sunghoon pops up from behind him, "Yeah peanut. If you weren't reading those shitty books, you would have noticed that Dad made your favorite."

"I'm coming, I'm coming. I just finished this chapter," you shooed them away. You put on a pair of slippers and stop at the bottom step when the door opens and a familar frame greets you. The man of the hour again - Yang Jungwon.

"Hoon, Riki," Jungwon says, pulling in them for a quick hug and a firm pat on the back. "Sick ! Jungwon brought the new fifa game. This is why you're better than Sunghoon. " Riki exclaims. Sunghoon smacks the backside of his head while Riki sheepishly mumbles an apology.

Jungwon makes eye contact with you and raises his hand for a high-five which you comply . Jungwon whispers, "My favorite siblings out of all of you guys but don't tell them that !"

You can only softly laugh, knowing he loved this household more than his own. Your dad calls out to him, ushering him the the kitchen. Jungwon winks at you before walking over.

Yang Jungwon was someone that you were almost too familiar with. The Yangs moved into the house next door when you were in the sixth grade, Sunghoon was in seventh, and Riki was in fifth. You still remember young Jungwon, hiding behind his mother's leg and peeking over with his cat-like eyes.

Jungwon's mother gave him a little nudge, "Don't be shy Jungwon, they won't bite you." You tilt your head at him before deciding to give him a small wave and offer a cheeky smile. With that, it seems like Jungwon's shell had cracked as his dimple peeked through when he smiled back.

Your brother immediately invited him in to play some video games which he just nodded too. Every since then, it was like Jungwon lived at your house. Heck, sometimes he knew your house better than you did. He came after school to get tutored by Sunghoon and he would come on the weekend to play soccer with Riki, only seeing you in fleeting moments.

Jungwon was techincally your first boyfriend. Well - space between boy and friend. You would bike to school together, eat lunch together, be each other's lab partners and join the same clubs. You guys were insperable until high school. Your dynamic was very different in high school than middle school.

Jungwon towered five inches taller than eight grade graduation, leaving him at a staggering 5'10. His jaw was more defined, cheekbones more prominent. He made the soccer team so he was frame was lean and his skin was sun-kissed from all the outside practices. And the most biggest change; the girls

Jungwon had always been attractive, at least in your eyes. But his new profound looks made him extremely popular with Adler High. You changed a little from middle school. You opted to wear contacts than your glasses, you got your braces off and you finally learned how to make your eyeliners twins and not cousins. But it was nothing compared to the 360 Jungwon made.

He tried to keep your connection strong, even when he got his first girlfriend. He would still come over on Friday after school for movie nights, and still had the usual routine with your siblings. However, you didn't know that a random Friday would be your last movie night.

In your defense, you didn't mean to ease drop on him and Sunghoon's conversation but you're glad did. You, Sunghoon and Jungwon were having a late night conversation in the backyard before you excuse yourself to grab some water.

You come back with three water bottles until you stop in your tracks as you heard Sunghoon ask Jungwon, "So THE Yang Jungwon isn't a virgin anymore huh? How was she?" You quickly hid behind the wall, trying to control your shaky hands. Jungwon laughs, "Dude her head game was insane, had me rolling my eyes and shit. And the way her walls sucked me in, literal stars."

Did Jungwon actually say that or are you imagining things? It wasn't until you heard Sunghoon hollers, "Let's fucking go Jungwon, I see you." Your face feels hot and you feel your eyes brimming with tears. But what are you crying for? Are you upset that he is disrespecting women or are you upset that you realized you're in love with him and he just confessed that he lost his virginity? Both? You take a deep breath and wait for their conversation to go still before heading out.

You drop off the waters to them and make up some excuse about a throbbing headache, clutching onto your temples. You hug them goodnight, holding onto Jungwon for a second longer than usual. You cry yourself to sleep.

Jungwon persists for the next month, constantly asking what was wrong and if there was anything he could fix. He would ask your brothers what's wrong, to which they only shrugged their shoulder not knowing the answer. He would text you and you would simply keep telling him it was personal reasons.

He stops trying one month and three weeks in, probably because his girlfriend wouldn't be so happy if she sees how much effort he is putting into you. From then on, things are a little awkward but manageable. You only see him in passing moments.

Jungwon and his first girlfriend eventually break up but he quickly gets with Kim Minji, a cheerleader for Adler high, and they're still together till now.

You take your sit at the dining table next to Sunghoon. Sunghoon plates your food for you, "Eat up, you won't have me to remind you when I'm in Ireland." You just sigh and say a 'thank you.'

Your dad starts, "So Jungwon, How's Minji? Haven't seen her around in a while." Sunghoon's eyes widen while Jungwon awkwardly clears his throat. His eyes dart around and he subconsciously makes eye contact with you. You raise an eyebrow at him before he looks away.

"Oh we've just been busy and stressed with school that we haven't been able to see each other in a while. It's.. going okay." Jungwon manages to say before Riki changes the topic, talking about the new game Jungwon brought over.

The conversation between the five of you flow smoothly. You settle for going bed early since you're waking up early to see Sunghoon off in the morning. You hug your dad and Sunghoon goodnight and drop a kiss on Riki's head ("Stop doing that (Y/N), I'm old and manly now" You know he still loves to be babied.) You choose for a small wave to Jungwon before heading upstairs.

Sunghoon isn't a guy to get emotional and shed tears. You could count on your hands how many times you've seen Sunghoon cry. But here he was, stray tears falling down his cheek. Dad pats his back as Sunghoon sniffles. He gives Riki a quick hug, a rare moment between the brothers.

And when he gets to you, he pulls you into the tighest hug before leaving a big smooch on your head. He pulls back and sternly warns you, "Now peanut, listen to me very closely. Now with your older, hot, manly, strong brother away, boys are going to try to approach you and you will turn down every single one. You understand? Especially the Lacrosse team."

You don't really focus on the words you say as your own tears start to well up in your eyes where Sunghoon only coos at you and hugs you tighter. The three of your wave to Sunghoon as he walks through his gate. You look back to see if he's looking back. He's not and it finally hits you that for this school year, you're on your own (minus riki)

taglist: @dimplewonie @wooziswife @bunnbam (unable to tag)

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #kim sunoo #lee heeseung #jake sim #park jay #park sunghoon #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #j4keluver and luvj4key tatbilb collab💌

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klanceyuri · 10 months ago

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crawling up the skin of my spine

summary: it's the beginning of the end when Raph's egg absolutely fucking shatters after years small cracks, thank god Cassandra is there to hold her hand through it

warnings: swearing, cass accidentally outs raph to april, check ao3 port for full tags

authors note: inspired by all of the magnificent raphcass that @less-depresso-more-espresso drew, go check it out. it's all really good and makes me insane. title from Alrighty Aphrodite by Peach Pits. if ya'll enjoyed considering dropping a reblog or checkin the Ao3 port.

"I think I'm a girl." Raphael's words floated atop the otherwise rampant sound of rubber on rubble as his brothers shot down Kraang.

"That's great and all, but can we please wait until we're not on the run to discuss this!?" Cassandra practically screamed back, a thick tentacle slamming against the window and shattering it. She hacked it in twain with her hockey stick, the blades of her skates tied onto the bottom.

"Yeah, sure, Raph understands." He keeps driving their ramshackle truck because somewhere along the line they had to ditch the tank. Now they have to fight to keep their microscopic trailer with only bedding essentials and food intact as they try to survive. Survive and plan a way to win, they're already beelining it to a colder climate in hopes of deterring the Kraang.

Raphael really hopes that this sudden spike of 'girl thoughts' isn't the start of something bigger.

None of the others were.

-/-/-/-

Snow is sprinkling down on them when they finally take a rest, the last Kraang hundreds of miles back and past the border. They snuck through a small crack in border security when a guard was off taking a leak. The smell of pine and the sound of rushing water envelopes them from all sides as they set up camp.

Setting up camp consists of finding dry wood and popping the cover for the bed of the truck so some of them can sleep in it. But it's harder than expected to find dry wood, and Michelangelo took it upon himself to use this freshwater advantage for fishing.

He and April are out kneedeep in the river, trying to snag fish by hand while Donatello and Leonardo are out looking for dry wood that'll light. Raphael and Cassandra are setting up the bedding for the night, spreading few pillows and blankets across the hitch trailer, truckbed, and passenger seat.

"You want to be a girl," Cassandra begins as she steps down from the truck bed, and it takes Raphael a moment to process the words.

"Well, I think it'd be nice. We're all gonna die by the Kraang, so why not have some fun?" Raphael began with as he watched her slash at a tree with her hockey stick for burning wood. Midswing she turns to look at him, askew hair she hasn't trimmed in months just barely fluttering atop her eyes. He stammers to speak, "That's stupid, I'm stupid."

She drops her gear and walks over to Raphael, gripping the front of his plastron and yanking him down to eye level, her strength still amazes him. She holds his face, even with the rough scars, "You're not dumb. You're a dumb ass, big difference." Cassandra lets go and steps back, watching the red starting to rise to Raphael's face.

"Thanks, Cass," Raphael said quietly.

Cassandra grins and pats him on the shoulder, "Good. Now let's get chopping, I don't wanna freeze out here, Raph."

-/-/-/-

Cassandra can't sleep at night, stuck in the hitch trailer with April and window ajar for fresh, wintry air. She stares at the roof, those dumb glow in the dark stars dimly lit up, and her eyes focus and blur back and forth. April lays beside her, resting on her side and stealing most of the blanket with her torn jacket as a pillow.

"What's got your knickers in a knot?" April asked abruptly.

"What's got your knickers in a knot, O'Neil?" Cassandra answers with sharply, aware she shouldn't say what's on her mind despite how much it's stuck right on the tip of her tongue.

"Raphael's been off," April said bluntly.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

Cassandra can only pray that April doesn't keep prattling on because if she does the ravenette knows something stupid and exposing will fall out of her mouth.

"He's so quiet, and awkward. He's always been a bit different, but this? Whole new level of Raph weirdness, all he does is drive us to the new spot these days. And chop the wood and bash some baddies if he gets a chance, but he's missing that Raphael Hamato spunk!"

Cassandra bites her tongue and tries not to speak.

April sighs, "Do you know what's wrong with him?"

"Her."

"What?"

Shit.

April sits up to face Cassandra. She reaches for her glasses before staring down her teammate, "Cassandra Jones, care to explain yourself?"

She really doesn't, but her survival instincts also don't wanna be on the receiving end of April's cold shoulder. "I wasn't supposed to say shit about it, but Raphael's… different now, wants to be a girl different."

April goes dead silent.

"Tell her I told you this and you're dead." There's a snarl under Cassandra's tone.

"I figured as much, Cass," April said, "Raph's a girl now?"

Cassandra nodded, "He isn't one hundred percent yet due to circumstances and the apocalypse happening, but oh yeah, Raphael's a girl."

"Always thought it woulda been Mikey." April gives a hum of laughter.

Cassandra takes a deep breath before pressing both hands to her face, palms resting on her cheekbone. "Fuck. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone. Especially not her brothers, you better not squeal."

"I would never."

Cassandra nods.

"Anything else bugging ya?"

"Is it wrong that the first thing I thought when he told me was 'thank god I'm still a lesbian?'" Shame rests heavy on her usually aggressive and in your face voice. A vulnerability the Kraang invasion has only further shoved into hiding.

It takes a second for April to process the words, "I don't think I'm qualified to answer that question." She laughs nervously after she speaks.

"Can we go down to Hot Topic tomorrow? Buy some accessories for Raph?"

"You just said she isn't one hundred percent sure."

"Might help her solidify it."

-/-/-/-

"Look, Raph," Cassandra begins with quietly, words low and slow. It's night time, well, the evening at the least. Snow melts as it hits them, sprawled out in the back of the truck as the rest of their team tells tales around a roaring campfire.

"Yeah?" Raph said, trying to pitch his voice a bit higher.

"I'm not too good at this being a girl thing myself even though I had my entire life to be one properly," She confesses, a bit of shame on her voice. She wants to be there for Raph. Be a mentor. Know some helpful stuff. But she doesn't, only the bare minimum. "The one thing I do know is that my mom always made me wear dresses with lots of bows and frills, and grandma bought me accessories."

"I can't, I'm a giant turtle, Cass. I can't just go out there and buy some dresses."

Cassandra pauses, and when she speaks her voice is quiet, "You can tie your mask tails in a bow, or change how you wear it."

Silence.

"I don't know how to tie bows."

Cassandra jolts up before gripping Raph's hand, he'd started to file down his nails with the sharp edges of his sai. He sits up and then she's crawling overtop of him to get at his mask, "I'll do it for ya then."

And Raph would shove her off, but it's nice. Being close to someone, having her calloused hands undo his mask and just hold it for a moment. Proximity too close, flames from afar casting a golden glow on her face and Cassandra's never taken a moment to look at Raph so closely before. The golden sclera, the scars, the way the scales darken around her eyes like eyeliner-

Woah.

Where did that come from?

Her. Cassandra hasn't really thought of Raph as 'her' inside of her own monologue so casually before. It's nice. It feels comfortable.

And Raph just stares unblinking at Cassandra until finally the silence is broken with a bit of a laugh, deep, hearty, "You gonna do up my mask, or?"

"Right. Yeah. The mask." Cassandra is quick to lay it around Raph's neck and tie it into a loose bow. Almost a bandana-esque look.

Then she rears back from Raph to sit a few feet away, watching as the snapper plays with the bandana on his neck. He smiles a bit. Then that smile falls. "What if the guys ask questions?"

"You don't have to tell them shit."

"But they're my brothers."

"You'll get there, I promise. Took me years to tell anyone I liked kissing girls, a couple more to explain I only liked kissing girls."

Raph feels his stomach turns at that. A good kind of stomach turn perhaps, maybe it's butterflies, but he can't tell. He just nods, "Raph gets it, it's hard to be vulnerable."

"Thanks for being vulnerable with me."

"What?"

"Nothing."

-/-/-/-

Cassandra looks out of place inside of the kind of clothing stores April fits in at, and even though eyes bore holes into her she persists in shopping.

No one says anything and she knows that in NYC she'd already be kicked out for looking so different, but she's in Canada now. The land of mild mannered people and snow, so far both of those notions are holding true.

April holds the bag and Cassandra grabs everything that she thinks would compliment Raph, it's hard to tell though because the girl she's buying for is a massive turtle. She buys arm warmers that are three sizes too big for her so they'll be loose on Raph. She grabs necklaces and bracelets even though she doubts that Raph will wear them, they look nice. She buys skirts and the cashier gives her odd looks at the sizing but rings them through anyways.

For Raph.

A million sharp glances and judging glares.

For her Cassandra thinks that she'd do anything and she hasn't felt that in years upon years.

It's euphoria.

-/-/-/-

"Me and April went out shopping for ya."

They're laying in the hitch trailer when Cassandra said it.

"You and April?" Raph answered with.

Cassandra gives a nervous laugh, "It was a mistake when she learned, she was suspecting anyways."

Raph huffs and turns away from her and it stings but yeah, Cassandra deserved that.

"We got you skirts. And arm warmers. And necklaces. And other accessories." Cassandra tries to recover with as she stands up and looks for the bag in the moonlit camper.

That piques Raph's interest. She turns back around and sits up before Cassandra unceremoniously dumps the items on the floor. Raph is hesitant to sift through them, but once she starts, it's hard to stop.

"Like 'em?" She asked with a bit of a grin on her face.

"Love 'em." Raph slid on the arm warmers over her spiked arms and they tore through a bit but that was fine. They were deep reds and blacks and complimented her mask that she wore as a bandana sometimes. Even less times tied around her tail.

Cassandra thinks her eyes are playing tricks on her but she's pretty sure that Raph is glowing in the pale moonlight. She can't help but lean her head on her palm, knees crossed and elbow propped. She tries not to look too lovesick, but hey, whose to blame if it's obvious?

Raph is too wrapped up in her brand new outfits to take note of Cassandra's disposition.

-/-/-/-

"I think I like you!" Cassandra shouted as her and Raph sparred.

In that same split second the snapper drops her guard and a fist lands square in her maw. She doesn't go stumbling but she does lurch back shock on her face as she rubs her jaw.

She opens her mouth to speak, but not much else comes out aside from a few sounds that could become words. They don't become words. Instead she gestures as she tries to process those five words shot at her with more force than any attack.

Red steadily rises to Cassandra's face as she waits for a response.

When no response comes she does the opposite of what Raph expects.

She turns tail and fucking runs.

Raph is too shell-shocked at the suddenness of Cass's confession to even try to run after her, tail swishing back and forth like a dogs.

-/-/-/-

"Cass!"

The woods echo back at Raph mockingly.

Bugs chitter.

Birds croon.

Water rushes.

Cass does not respond.

Raph just clenches her fist and gives a small aggravated exclamation before trudging deeper into the woods. She's gotta find Cass. She needs to, April's gonna freak if she doesn't, Leo's gonna blow his lid, Mikey's gonna explode, and Donnie, Raph isn't so sure how Donnie will react but it'll be bad.

Her tail thrashes along trees and claws mark them as she goes deeper into the underbrush so she doesn't get lost. Just follow the water, the camp is downstream from here. Her skirt gets torn up a bit as she goes, sap and pitch stain her shirt, she's a mess.

"Cass!"

"What?!"

That's a good sign even if there is annoyance on the voice, Raph follows it.

She's panting a bit when she finally finds Cass next to a tree, half squatting and nudging a stick around in fallen pine needles and dirt. Tears definitely aren't streaking down her face, palm raised to smudge them and some eyeliner across her face.

Raph sits down next to her but before she can speak Cass is already opening her mouth.

"Sorry."

"What?"

"For falling in love with you, it's dumb. I'm dumb. I should know better than that. Love is for sissies," Cass rambled before heaving a long sigh, "I'm just, I'm sorry okay!"

Raph doesn't know how to answer to that, "What if, what if I loved you too? What then?"

"It'll kill you too."

"No it won't."

"Everyone I've loved gets hurt. I'm not safe. I don't want to hurt you."

Raph grabs Cass's face and wipes aside the tears and the smudged makeup, "I'm stronger than them."

And Cass fucking laughs as she relaxes into Raph's hands, her own coming up to grip the now sticky and pine littered arm warmers. She laughs and she cries and she hiccups and it's ugly and a far cry from pretty but Raph doesn't care.

"You won't hurt me, hell, all you've done is help me, Cass." Raph presses her forehead head to Cass's and the human butts her head against the snappers like a cat. Raph pulls back but doesn't let go of Cass's face, "Thanks for being vulnerable with me, Raph gets it."

Cass has the boldness to press a kiss to Raph's inner wrist and a muted red rose to her face. Cass just smirks, "So, Raph," She pauses as her voice cracks and a hiccup hits her as she comes down from crying, "What's your name?"

"Renetta, but, you can call me Raph."

It's an offer more than a statement, but Cass holds onto that offer as tight as she learns to hold onto Renetta's hand.

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanfiction #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #raphcass #tmnt raphael #tmnt cassandra jones #tmnt april o'neil #transfem raph #writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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bonny-kookoo · 2 years ago

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Jungkook

X♡X♡ [SEVEN DAYS] Day 2 (Teaser)

You can see how much he enjoys this. He's talking to you like the snake talked to Eva in the garden of Eden- and you're willing to bite the forbidden fruit just like she did, if it means that he'll look at you for just a little bit longer.

Tags/Warnings: Porn with a lot of plot basically, inexperienced!reader, Dom!Jungkook, BDSM themes and elements, sensual dominance, bondage/restriction of movement, use of color system (explained in story), oral (male receiving), light gagging, praise kink (reader), big dick!JK but what's new, corruption kink (JK), light orgasm control, Subspace, aftercare

Length: ???

A/N: don't think I'm not working on this haha

-> Masterlist

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His hand on your chin, thumb almost gently running over your bottom lip, before he dares to make you open your mouth, his finger on your tongue. Throughout it all, your eyes stay on him, just like he told you they should, and you can feel something happening to you you didn't know was possible.

You feel like you're reaching your peak just from this alone- the sight of him, your hands bound behind your back, the knowledge that he's entirely bare in front of you. You want to see him.

But you wait. He's in charge, after all.

"So pretty.." he chuckles with eyes dark, licking his own bottom lip until the tip of his tongue plays with his piercing a little, while he watches you struggle to stay calm. His hand leaves your face, before he seems to think-

Just for a second though. He won't go there yet- slow steps, steady progress, no rush, he reminds himself.

"Look at you, so patient." He praises, and your breathing picks up at the sound of his words, eyes sparkling. You're so cute, he thinks to himself. Dangerous, most of all. "Tell me what you want." He commands, and you swallow, before you speak.

".. you." You answer. He chuckles.

"I'm right here." He snickers, amused.

"No, like.. I want-" you say, looking down his chest, his stomach, muscle defined as you reach his belly button, before the prominent V-Line greets your vision, soon followed by his hard length fully erect. It twitches once, and you can't look away.

"Eyes up, darling." He demands, and your gaze snaps back up, earning a pleased smile. "Good Girl." He grins. "Now, I'll ask again. What do you want?" He asks, and you have to physically force the words out of you.

"I want you inside my mouth.." you tell him, and he tilts his head to the side, faking innocence.

"You'll have to be more specific, darling." He purrs down at you, hand around your neck angling your face upwards to straighten your back, fixing your posture for you. It helps- though the simple touch around your throat makes you clench around nothing, oddly enough. It's clear that he's slowly increasing the intensity of the powerplay- no longer as easy to convince.

You've probably already leaked onto the sheets underneath you. And you couldn't care less.

Maybe it's the way he's gotten you to straighten your back in an almost confident position. Maybe it's the praise getting to your head. Or maybe you're just being consumed by your own lust. But suddenly, your words aren't so hard to say out loud any longer as you speak.

"I want to please you." You say, and it catches him off guard a little. "Please let me have it.." you plead, and in this moment, he doesn't care that you're technically still not speaking out what you want specifically. He really couldn't care less.

How could he, with a goddess aphrodite on her knees right in front of him, asking to pleasure him?

"Go ahead, darling." He says, finally offering his permission. "Let's see what you have to offer, hm?" He teases with a low purr in his tone, and at that, you realize you've received the green light from him.

And quite honestly, suddenly you don't care anymore if you've ever given head- because after all, Jungkook will guide you. Jungkook will use you in any way he deems right.

And you don't mind one bit.

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#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #bts smut #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook x reader #bts jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook imagine #bts jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook imagine #jungkook smut

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bouncybongfairy · 1 year ago

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The Connection Of Water

Percy Jackson x Water Nymph Reader

Summary: After finding your way to camp half blood, you end up befriending a blue-eyed boy who can't keep away from the water. You end up taking a late night swim with Percy.

Word Count: 3k+

Part 2 is now posted! <3

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were running through the thick brush of the woods, now and then feeling a sharp branch scrap against your skin. You keep looking behind you, seeing if the minotaur was still chasing you. You were regretting following the glowing dove that appeared to you in the early morning. Hot tears were streaming down your face. You could feel your stamina declining, your legs were getting heavier with every step. You wanted to scream because of the cramping in your body and the terror in your heart. You kept yourself from doing so, not wanting to lure the monster right into you. You really panicked when the dove was losing its glow. You were not only feeling scared for your safety but saddened that this beautiful dove leading you was withering away with no purpose. As you were running, you saw torches glowing a vibrant yellow and red. You follow them, hoping to run into someone who could aid you. You eventually stopped looking behind you because every time you did, you almost tripped. You could hear the minotaur roaring somewhere behind you. This was motivating you to keep going.

You finally see a wooden sign that was written in Greek letters. You were so scared that you didn't bother looking at what the sign said. You just wanted to get away from the monster that was hot on your heels. There were people in armor who seemed to be surprised that you made it through the gate. You turned around and fell on your bottom, watching as this monster came closer. You tried to scurry away, but the armored people were reassuring you. They helped you into a white tent. This is when your eyes become too heavy to keep open anymore.

You woke up to the sun shining directly onto your face; you hold your hand up to block it. That's when you noticed white bandages covering the scraps from evading the minotaur. You sat up and looked around to get a better view of your surroundings. Cots lined up against the walls. Some people were laying down in more critical condition while others were just getting quick treatment. You threw your legs over the bed, but before you could stand up, a woman came up to you.

"Hold on dear, are you feeling dizzy or hungry at all?" she asked, placing her cold hand on your forehead to check your temperature. You shook your head no and let your hands rest in your lap.

"Do you remember how you arrived?" she asked.

"I was home, a glowing dove appeared before me. I followed it south until a minotaur chased me. I don't remember how I got.. here though," you said referring to the building you're in, she looked at you raising her eyebrows; almost as if she was confused.

"You don't think you're mortal?" she asked which caused you to crank your neck up at her; you must have looked as confused as she was.

"I know i'm not mortal I'm a naiad," her eyes widened and she excused herself. At this point all you wanted to do was go home. You missed your sisters and were feeling extremely regretful that you followed the dove. The women came back shortly after being followed by a centaur.

"Hello little one, my name is Chiron. You must be extremely confused, let's take a walk and allow me to make it all clear," he said. You didn't respond but got up and followed.

"This is Camp Half Blood where we protect and train the offspring of half human half mortal young adults. The reason the dove appeared to you was to lead you here. The dove is a symbol of Aphrodite, we have lots of her half blood kins here you are not the first. However these half bloods are half mortal, you are the first naiad we've had here. This is certainly not a bad thing, please don't feel out of place due to that aspect. I just wanted to clear that up and show you around a bit," he said resting his hand on your shoulder as you walked.

"I can never leave here?" you asked which made him laugh.

"Yes of course, we can't keep you here against your will and students can go home to visit family. However we teach you a great deal of combat and other skills that will help you navigate the world safely as a half blood. Not only that, you get to be surrounded by those who understand exactly what you've been through and the struggles." he said.

"Is there a lake nearby? I have been out of water for a while, I don't mean to-"

"You don't have to apologize, it's always overwhelming for new campers when they are debriefed. The Canoe Lake is only a 10 minute walk down this path. If you need anything just ask," he said walking away.

You were happy that he took the hint about you wanting to be alone. It wasn't like it was as big of a bomb as it would have been for a mortal. You knew of the Greek world and of the existence of gods, your dad was a full blooded naiad. The half blooded aphrodite was what really threw you for a loop. Everyone you walked past on the trail was staring like you had two heads and three arms. It didn't matter to you as much as wanting to be in the water did. You could feel your skin becoming tight because of the lack of moisture. Once you saw the rays of light reflecting off the surface of the lake, you smiled and let out a sigh. You strip off your tee shirt and shorts and walk into the lake. The feeling of relief was like pure joy, feeling the soft earth beneath your feet. You dove underneath the water and let the water carry your body for a couple moments. You find them slowly growing and expanding once they are fully submerged. Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the dark water as you went deeper and deeper.

You swam around for a while, finding lost items like bead bracelets or glasses. There were fish that came right up to your face, oblivious to your being there. Then they would swim away for their lives once they noticed you there. This would make you laugh, a few bubbles escaping your mouth. You got a taste of what the fish were feeling when you felt a literal tap on the shoulder. You whipped around and were greeted by another naiad, she signed for you to follow her which you did. After swimming alongside with her for about 5 minutes you reach a rather large rock. You follow her to the surface and see that there are several other water nymphs sitting on this rock. You joined them at the top where you were greeted by several voices.

"Hello, so I hear you are the newest naiad to camp half-blood. Is this true?" the girl who led you here asked.

"Word travels fast. Well I thought I was just naiad but the centaur Chiron told me that I'm actually half god half naiad," there was a long pause before the next girl spoke,

"What god?" she asked.

"Aphrodite," you said, ringing some of the water out of your hair.

"Wow, another blonde bimbo to add to the barbie house," she said, causing a couple other girls to laugh.

"Do you live there? Chiron didn't say anything about overcrowding," you asked, which caused the girl's smile to slowly fade from her face. You looked around and noticed there was a couple of girls snickering,

"Only the kin of Aphrodite stay in the cabin, Naylene is just a water nymph," one of the more quiet girls explained.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean any-'' you began to apologize if you came off wrong but it seemed that Naylene's ego had already been bruised.

"Well good luck making friends, I mean we all know the reputation you bimbos get around the camp," she said, diving in the water, being followed by a couple other girls. This left you sitting on the rock with one other girl.

"Don't worry about her, she gets so jealous when new girls, especially from your mom, come to camp. She's always been like that, don't take it to heart." She said to you,

"Yeah I guess, I'm Y|N by the way," you said formally introducing yourself.

"I'm Madison," she said, holding out her hand to shake which you did, "It's starting to get dark which means supper is going to start soon. You can come with me if you'd like," she offered.

"No I appreciate you but I've been out of the water for a while, I just need to soak for a little longer," you said.

"Okay, if you see me at supper or just.. around don't be a stranger," she said as she grabbed her towel and left the lake.

You sat on the rock for a while admiring the sunset, it was a striking purple and pink color. The water was beginning to get colder and the breeze picked up a bit more. A few tears escaped your eyes when you thought about your sisters and your father that were at home. You wiped them away and practiced a bit of mindfulness. Many kids don't get to experience the beauty of nature in a place like this. As you were talking in your surroundings you noticed a dock attached to a cabin on the lake. You dive into the water and swim over to the wooden platform that was floating above the water. Once you got there you hoisted yourself onto the dock and looked out at the water. From this angle it gave the illusion that the lake went on for miles and miles. The dock was facing west, which meant the sun set directly in front of it. You began to ring your hair out again so the cold water wasn't dripping onto your back. As you were admiring the water, you heard something fall behind you. When you whipped around and saw a dark haired boy staring at you. You immediately stand up and apologize for intruding,

"I'm so sorry I assumed because of the dock that it was just- I'm really sorry for intruding," you said.

"It's okay I um- the naiads come up all the time," he said picking up the pen he dropped.

"Sorry I'll go, I'm late for supper anyway," you said, going to walk past him but were interrupted.

"You're going to the dinning hall like that?" he asked, you looked down and became painfully aware of just how unclothed you were. Only wearing a cropped shirt and boy shorts, that were still wet.

"I left my bag at the lake side where I jumped in. I was just gonna grab my stuff and change before heading down," you said, he walked over to the dresser and grabbed a bright orange tee shirt that said camp half-blood. Underneath the white lettering was big, sloppy black writing that said 'Jackson'. He then handed you a pair of black basketball shorts.

"My mom got those for me last summer so they should be small enough for you," he said playing with his fingers before continuing, "I can take you to the dining hall and to pick up your bag on the way, if you get lost you won't make it in time," he said.

"Oh thank you," you said, waiting a couple seconds for him to turn around so you could change. He didn't so you ended up having to ask which he did. Once you got dressed you thanked him again for his hospitality.

"I'm Y|N," you said.

"I'm Percy," he said.

The walk was really nice, he was telling about about what time meals were. What the different symbols on the cabin meant, even some of the social constructs that had been created in the camp. When you told him about how passive aggressive the other water nymphs were he said he wasn't surprised. He explained that a lot of the girls here get caught up in the social competition of being a teenager. You explained to him how you got here and you both laughed when you realized you had the same experience of being chased by a minotaur. You picked up your bag as you followed the trail and the smell of food. He told you that he was the only half blood in the entire camp which surprised you. It was equally surprising when you told him you weren't half mortal.

"No wonder Naylene hates you, she's intimidated by you." he said in a matter of fact tone.

Once you both walked into the dining area all the eyes were on you both. Percy whispered that the only reason they were staring is because we don't get new campers all the time. This made you feel better until you saw Naylene who was staring you down with a scowl on her face. You followed Percy to grab your tray. He then took you to the firepit where he explained the custom of giving the best thing on your plate as an offering to the God's. You even met two of his friends Grover and Annabeth who were extremely welcoming. It really turned your entire day around. They warned you about people to steer clear of like Clarise, which you were grateful for. Annabeth even showed you the Aphrodite cabin which was.. overwhelming to say the least. It reminded you of a sorority, so much hair and the smell of perfume was super invasive in your nose. They showed you where your bed was and surprisingly were all very nice. You thanked them for being so welcoming to which one of the older girls responded,

"Pretty girls are always kind," she said.

You were happy that bitchy campers were the only thing that was bad about this place. The older girls in the cabin were helping the younger girls get ready. Brushing their teeth and braiding their hair. Cleaning up, sweeping the floors or getting their beds ready to sleep. You were getting a lot of compliments which were giving you a permanent grin. You were getting comfortable in bed, reading a book when someone tapped you on the shoulders.

"There's someone here to see you," one of the girls said. You were confused but set your book down and went to see who it was. It was Percy, he was carrying a plastic bag that contained your wet clothes from earlier.

"You're up late, thank you," you said, grabbing the bag from him.

"Yeah I couldn't sleep so I thought I'd bring that back," he said.

"Yeah I can't sleep either, I was thinking about going for a swim later to help," you said.

"Can I come?" he asked, which really surprised you.

"Yeah, give me like five minutes," you said, going back to your bed to put away the plastic bag. You went up to one of the older girls and asked if you could borrow a bathing suit top which she gladly handed over.

You changed and made your way back outside. You walked together to his cabin, that was the first time you had seen it a night and it was beautiful. There were slight gaps in between the logs that made up the wall, which made it look as though it was bursting with light. The inside was even more impressive, there was Greek artwork painted on the walls. A big California king bed, right above the headboard was a painting of the famous statue of Perseus holding the severed head of Medusa. Other more modern things sat on his desk like comic books and a laptop. You didn't say much before getting into the water. Due to your dehydration, your tail didn't come out when you were in the water before but after about 10 minutes in the water you were in full naiad form. Percy was sitting at the bottom of the lake and you were swimming slow circles around him.

You obviously couldn't speak with each other but the look in each others eyes didn't need words. You grabbed his hands and started swimming, with your tail you could swim incredibly fast. You looked over at him and his lips were being parted because of how fast you were going which caused you to stop and laugh. He laughed as well and motioned for you to pay attention. He then started to control the currents slightly so that he could maintain the same speed when swimming around. You would point out different fish to each other or plants that you thought looked cool. After a while you just sat next to each other, enjoying each other's company. He got up and loved the sludge on the ground and pulled out a necklace. He held onto the back of the necklace and used a current and got all the mud off. It was a beautiful necklace. The charm was two acrylic rose charms that were ombre from dark violet to light. In the center of both roses was a pearl. He swam behind you and attached it to your neck, you smiled and blew him a bubble kiss. Bubbles burst out of his mouth from how hard he laughed.

You both resurface and sit on the dock with each other. Percy looks over and notices that your teeth are chattering. He gets up and grabs a towel from his room and drabs it over your shoulders.

"Thank you," you said as he sat back next to you.

"It's not a big deal, you know I've never hung out like that with anyone in the water like that," he said looking over at you. He had hair hanging on his forehead, almost covering his eyes.

"Kinda helps when you're with someone who can also breathe water," you chuckled.

"No, even with Naylene and them I never will hang out with them in the water like that," he said.

You looked over at him and noticed he was still looking. His eyes were so blue they almost looked like they were glowing. You lean over and give him a peck on the lips. Although it wasn't a long passionate kiss, it didn't take away from the romantic aspect of the moment. He smiled and blushed a deep red before getting up and helping you stand

"I'll walk you home," he said before returning the peck back to your lips.

#fanfic writing #fluff fanfiction #short fanfic #oneshot #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fandom #water nymph #camp halfblood

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dastardly-imbecile · 8 hours ago

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Thalassophilia

Used to be, you would put your chin on his shoulder and watch him work, whispering ideas in his ears when you wanted to be helpful, whispering other things when you were in the mood for distraction. Galatea carved in statuesque marble, naked and tangled in his sheets, coyly asking him if you were inspiring him.

Now, now you are Aphrodite wreathed in seafoam, beautiful in raw, brutal edges, nestled within the mouth of a clamshell.

---

Elliott loves you, dead at sea. Elliott loves you, somehow still alive. OR an elaborate excuse to make elliott a monsterfucker

---

Wordcount: ~6k

The ocean is poetry. Elliott’s always liked it, ever since he was young, hunched in his father’s wood-paneled office and flipping through old books. Running his fingers over those grainy images, trying to replicate the cool caress of those foam-capped waves, the frailty of life all bundled up in the crash of the surf. It’s why, when he finally set off in pursuit of this authorial lifestyle, he settled beside the sea. It’s worth the grains of sand constantly in his bamboo sheets, it’s worth the crabs that hide in his shoes, it’s worth the constant fight against lichen and mold and moss.

There is no better feeling than to sit upon the dock as the sun crawls over the horizon, painting the sky in gauzy nectarines and pale creams, sea kissing the undersides of his bare feet.

Well, it would be a better feeling to be able to share such nirvana with someone else, but as that’s not an option, solitude still has its own kind of beauty.

Today, like every day, he makes his way down those rickety wooden slats, past Willy’s old shop, now quiet and dark and boarded-up, a great beast stripped down to its skeleton. He wonders if your farm looks the same way, all torn and unkempt, chipping away at the edges. He wouldn’t know. Hasn’t been back to check.

Leah’s left a bottle of wine on his doorstep, propped up against a paper-wrapped baguette and a small coin of soft cheese. It’s her bohemian version of a mourning casserole, and he leaves them on his porch for now, continuing along in his trek down the beach.

There, washed up upon the shore, is a plank of driftwood, and his eyes snag on the peculiarity. Most likely, it’s random, something blown into the sea by heavy winds and spat out later, but he can’t quash that niggling bit of curiosity.

Boy’s a wanderlust, Father’d said, long ago when he was a gangly boy of sixteen and trying to write instead of participate in his class’s mandate of business and economics, no room for the artistry in such high echelons. He hadn’t meant it as a compliment, but Elliott’s taken it as one, repurposed it as one makes feathers into dreamcatchers and seaglass into necklaces, made it something entirely his own. It’s that curiosity that drives him to kneel, using a delicate hand to turn it over.

The bottom half of the thing is encrusted with barnacles, pulsing softly, exposing their soft inner hearts to the air with each shellbeat. Above that, though, in algae-grown letters, faded gold, it reads Man O’ War. He drops the board like it’s burnt him.

He remembers Willy on a Thursday night at the saloon, so many months ago, “an’ she fixed it right up! Just like that! My Man O’ War, in sailing shape once again!”

So it was no coincidence after all. Figures.

It never is.

After a long, steadying breath, he picks the plank up again, tucking it under his arm, turns away from the croon of the ocean and towards town proper.

Lewis is tending to his gardens when Elliot reaches him. He doesn’t announce his presence, simply stands there until the man cottons on—and then, there is a muffled yelp as Lewis stands to find him looming over him.

“Oh! Elliott!” His eyes drop from his face down to the boat under his arm, and just like that, any pretense of cheer melts away, dripping from the last bristles of his mustache.

“It washed up this morning,” he says in explanation, drawing it out from under his arm and presenting it to Lewis. It’s soaked his jacket, but he doesn’t particularly mind. These days, he’s not the most well-kept sort of man in any case. All those fancy suits that he’d pilfered from his father falling to tatters, hair tangled and matted in the underareas, dark circles below his eyes, salt crusted in the strangest places, like he himself is being slowly subsumed by the sea.

Man O’ War, Lewis mouths, a stricken expression falling upon his face, so stark that it’s almost amusing. He stares at it for a long moment, before looking back up at Elliott, then down again. “What do you… ah, what should we do with it?”

“Willy would’ve liked,” he says after a long moment, “To be buried with it, I think. He loved that ship like a wife.”

There’s some thread of morbid humor to be found in that, in the irony, but Elliott can’t bear to find it.

“Of course,” Lewis assures, “yes, he- I do believe he would have, yes. I’ll… I’ll handle it.”

“Can I come?” Elliott asks. He feels like a little boy, asking, he feels like he is back in Father’s manor, watching him bustle about and unsure how to recapture his attention, he feels like he is unmoored and drifting in that great blue eye they call the ocean.

“Of course, of course,” Lewis assures, placing a warm, paternal hand upon his shoulder.

—

It’s up in the mountains, past the railroad, where the dirt roads fade into tall grasses and thin, reedy trees. Far from the town’s own graveyard, down in the center of the plaza, which is a nice place all in its own right—all shaded by tall, graceful oaks, well-trimmed lawn tufting up around many polished stones—but you’d have liked it better here, both of you, he thinks. It’s here that they bury adventurers, that they bury those who died in the mines or the caverns, fighting monsters, defending the sanctity of Pelican Town.

Though you’d died doing neither, when Lewis’d asked Marlon for permission, the old man nodded solemnly, of course, she was the bravest of us all. And Willy too, for good measure, because he’d shared drinks with the guildmembers at the saloon, and easy enough to spun a tale portraying him as the valiant captain in the midst of some goliath storm. Both of you heroes, both of you dead.

Marlon’s there when they enter, standing over some ancient looking slab, sword pressed into the ground. He does not even open his eyes as they swish through the path. Best not to disturb his grief.

Your grave is in a prime spot under the tallest of the trees, like some ancient king slumbering in his enchanted grove. Willy’s is further back, tucked into the crook of the mountain, where Lewis leads. Headstone carved to look somewhat like a mermaid’s figurehead—the combination of Robin and Leah’s best work; he remembers long nights watching the two of them slowly chip away at a massive block of stone—and now, he stands upon the earth, grass ticking his knees through the holes in his pants, wonders if the man dreams of krakens, down in his real grave, deep under the surface of the waves.

“Burial is hard,” Lewis says after a moment, “but we can- we can erect it here, like a marker, see?” He maneuvers the plank of wood down onto the ground, pushes it slightly into the loamy earth, looks up at Elliott for approval. He nods blankly. “Good,” Lewis says, and then repeats, “good. This… he would’ve liked this.”

“Yes,” Elliott replies simply. Lewis cuts a glance at him from under the brim of his eyelids, shifty, gauging something.

“The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies is coming up,” he says after a moment, “I hate to spring this on you, Elliott, but… if we should cancel it this year like we did the last, then it’s no imposition, really, I just should inform the-”

“No,” he cuts him off, “no, it’s quite alright. We can host the Dance.”

“Are you sure? I know it’s… it’s quite close to the anniversary, and if-”

“Mother Nature will happen either way,” Elliott replies, “there’s no use in staunching it. Perhaps it will help the mood.”

Lewis nods rapidly, swallowing. “Good idea, yes. I’ll… I’ll begin preparations immediately.”

“I cannot wait,” he replies, using the most emotion that he has at all thus far in this conversation, and truly, he means it.

—

They’d canceled the Dance, yes, though that was before they’d known you were both gone. After departure to Ginger Island the day before, a kiss upon his cheek and the promise of a return, and then a storm, winds beating against the glass of his cottage, clouds burled overhead. The day of the festival itself, there was the search, setting out upon small sailboats, until chunks of wood began to wash back up upon Pelican Town shores. They’ve kept coming in the months since—half a steering wheel here, a few smoothened shards of glass there, and now, the nameplate.

Soon, the Gem Sea will run out of pieces of ship to regurgitate onto the beach, and then it will have to start with pieces of body, and he dreads and anticipates that day in equal measure. Grotesque. Morbid. Seems that’s the only way his mind turns these days, though.

It’s seeped into his writing. He cannot unravel sci-fi epics anymore, cannot slowly turn his way through delicate romances and sprawling fantasy worlds. All he churns out are tales of the macabre, of great monsters in the froth, of waves that stretch high as the heavens and low as the hells. They don’t sell. His editor doesn’t particularly like reading the fifth story that ends in, and then, the sea took them all.

When he’d complained of this to Leah, she’d frowned, worrying over her bottom lip, and then tried to introduce him to wood carving—said maybe a different avenue of creativity could unclog whatever pipes were malfunctioning. He’d started to, on instinct, make a crude sort of kraken, and she’d taken the knife away from him.

They’re not malfunctioning, is the truth. They are working exactly as intended: pumping out a thousand gallons of saline, churning the wheels of some great, rotating machine in the depths of his mind.

Tonight, he hunches over his desk, and writes the only other thing that he can write: a letter. In a hurried script, leaving small, messy drips of ink all over the crumpled parchment. Doesn’t matter. The words have their substance and that is all he needs.

I love you, he says, and then scratches that out, I still love you, marks it again, I will always love you, before moving onto the next. An exercise in revision, in making it perfect. He’s sent you dozens—twice a week—and this time, he mentions the boat’s nameplate, Lewis’s question about the jellies. It always was your favorite holiday. You’d told him, that day you left, that you hoped you’d make it back in time to watch.

Carefully, he rolls it up, slots it delicately into a colored glass bottle. One of Leah’s old winebottles, in fact, from her weekly deliveries. He doesn’t drink them—instead, pours them straight into the ocean, another form of tribute. The letters are for you; the wine is for Willy. Always did love a good drink, that man.

Then, he pads out into the surf, bare feet digging into the sand, and pushes the bottle into the waves. The sea takes it eagerly. Of course. Greedy, always greedy, always wanting.

Though it’s spit out many other things, it’s never given back one of his bottles. He likes to imagine that’s because you’re keeping them. Tucked into the hollow of your ribcage, ensconced in bony arms, wherever you are.

—

If he were a sappy man, he would call it love at first sight, and because he is a sappy man, that’s exactly the label that he slaps upon it. You, on your first foray into the beach, picking up a mussel and turning it about in his hands—and him, emerging from his cabin after a six-hour writing marathon. Eyes meeting, hearts sparking, falling into each other’s arms as naturally as the flower blooms. The real story is of course longer and not so much a fairytale, but at this point, his own version has become so naturalised that it is all he thinks of.

He tries to write it down, sitting at his desk, with a ragged duck’s feather that you gave him many months ago. It starts strong, but sputters out by the time he reaches the final act. All there is left to say is that the ocean takes, and that is that.

—-

One week until the Dance. Six days until the anniversary. He goes up to your farm for the first time since those early days in which you didn’t come back. Brings a small notepad and another quill, just in case it finally sparks some sort of inspiration, if the ghost of his muse rises from the dead. Used to be, you would put your chin on his shoulder and watch him work, whispering ideas in his ears when you wanted to be helpful, whispering other things when you were in the mood for distraction. Galatea carved in statuesque marble, naked and tangled in his sheets, coyly asking him if you were inspiring him.

Now, now you are Aphrodite wreathed in seafoam, beautiful in raw, brutal edges, nestled within the mouth of a clamshell.

The farm is abandoned, of course. Marnie took the animals, folded them back into her Ranch, Demetrius cleared out the cave, Lewis came by and uprooted each one of the crops once they began rotting in the earth. All a necessity, of course, but it felt a bit like many small parasitic beings consuming the remnants of some gargantuan corpse. Now, all that’s left is the overgrown grass amongst the old husks of barns and coops, the scarecrows crucified above brambly fields.

Elliott tries to pick his way through the undergrowth, but the burrs begin to snag at his pants, and he can bear no more, so he retreats to the collapsing porch.

He’s never been quite the outdoorsy type of man, which only inspires more questions about why, exactly, he chose to live in possibly the most rudimentary part of the valley, but this is a different breed of unpleasant. Reminds him of when Leah tried to take him camping, and he could not bear his hair getting tangled in the branches, the hardness of the rocky ground beneath his back. You were so good, out here. It must be different in the sea.

It’s the silence that chases him away, more than anything. No crashing waves. No breeze. Unsettling.

On the way back into town, he sees the bustle of the saloon, many people slipping in and out, and thinks, why the hell not?

The first step inside, however, proves to be a mistake. He’s suddenly acutely aware of his appearance, of the fact that this has been his first time reappearing in town proper in a year—he has not attended a single one of the preceding festivals. Spent the most recent, the Luau, holed up in his cabin, blankets over his head, trying to block out the sound of forced laughter.

“Elliot!” Gus exclaims, eyebrows making a valiant effort to reach his hairline, “it’s been a while. What do you want?”

He blinks. Can’t remember what he used to order, what his usual was. He still remembers yours—ocean sunrise, some obscenely fruity drink, bright gradient of yellow foam to deep indigo syrup pooling at the bottom of the glass, thick enough to coat the mouth and strong enough to linger. He used to tell you that things as brightly-colored as that are, by natural law, never meant to be consumed, and you’d asked, then why does it taste so good?

“Ocean sunrise,” he says. To his credit, Gus does not let even a tick of his facial expression belay any concern—instead, he turns straight to pouring and measuring out small quantities of bottled liquid.

Elliott moves to Leah’s table, who’s been sitting there, watching him all this time. She has a nervous hand running down her braid, but that’s the only indication that she is not entirely relaxed.

“Not a wine?” she asks. Right. That was his old poison of choice.

“No,” he replies, “feeling… ah, nostalgic.”

She nods as if that was a profound statement. “You got my delivery?”

“Yes.” He manages to shoot her a shallow smile. “Thank you, by the way. I never do express my gratitude enough. You are… you are a good friend.”

“Anything,” she vows, moving the hand from her braid to her heart. Emily stops by their table with the violently colorful drink in hand, shoots him a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, before whisking off to another table. He picks it up, takes a sip.

The lighter, orange-yellow layers taste of pineapple and tropical fruits, Ginger Island. It deepens as the bottom begins to mix in; that thick, heady indigo syrup, and by the time he reaches the bottom, it is entirely bitter, thick and sharp and acidic. This is what storms must taste like, he thinks, lightning sparking on his tongue, bright ozone filling his lungs. This is what your final moments must have tasted like. A final lick of the salt around the rim, a gulp of seawater, and it’s an altogether full experience.

He almost calls his compliments to Gus, good on distilling death at sea into a drink, but then it occurs to him that that probably wasn’t the man’s intention.

“Written anything lately?” Leah asks, around a bite of her salad. He tilts his head, thinking.

“Lots of horror. Not so much else.”

“Oh?” She perks up. “I like horror. It’s been too long since you’ve let me read one of your manuscripts.”

“They’re in the ocean,” he says, “but it’s hard, capturing what it feels like to die. When the ship begins to crack. I’ve never experienced it, obviously. If only I could ask…”

“Okay,” Leah says, voice dropping a few notes, “okay, Elliott, no more of that. Please.”

He flushes faintly. “My apologies. It is simply… inspiration is a fickle thing.”

“Really is,” she replies, but the tenuous sort of mood has snapped in half. He leaves not much later, passing his empty cup to Gus, taking the well-wishes of the others with a simple nod of his head. Back down to the beach, back to the waves that tear at the sand.

Sometimes—and these are the thoughts that he voices to nobody—he wonders if you are truly dead, if you are not somehow alive. Not in the fanciful, swam your way back to dry land sort of way, but instead, it’s some amalgamation of mermaid stories, of life breathed into you, of becoming one with the sea. Harvey tells him that this is normal—I’m not technically a psychiatrist, but from what I know…—but he feels so certain, some days, that it threatens to burst through his chest.

The only festival he’s attended this past year is the Night Market in winter. Not to peruse those exotic wares, even to take part in the free coffee. No—he made a straight beeline for the mermaid’s caravan, stepping into that thin wooden boat, shells hanging from the walls.

He did not even wait for her, the frontwoman, skin bright and soft as white taffeta, shimmering with a faint iridescence, to begin her song. Instead, he asked, “in the sea, how do you… become a mermaid?”

She turned to her sisters or companions or whoever they were, behind her, and they all chittered for a moment in a curt language that he had no frame of reference for. Not even in all his childhood study of such languages, Ferngillian and Gotoron and all those different tongues, had he encountered something like that.

Eventually, she turned back, said, “No, we are birthed.”

He saw that, after a moment. Eyes a touch too white, skin faintly translucent, many odd, small details that hinted at inhumanity. Only a pale imitation—or maybe humanity was a pale imitation of them—but there’s no alley of transformation there. Of course, then, he had to ask, “then, is there any way to… to evolve enough to survive the sea?”

Another round of chittering. This one sounded distinctly like laughter.

“No,” she replied, when she finally turned back, “no, landfolk, no.”

All that to say that both alleyways of comprehension—that of Harvey’s scientific method, and the magick of the merfolk—have refuted his hypothesis, and he’s just a fool, a lovestruck idiot who has not yet moved past the first stage of grief.

Your first kiss was upon a boat. Leah chewed him out, later, gave him a long lecture upon the implications of taking a single woman onto the water and kissing her but you’d been quite receptive at the time. Maybe that’s why it’s so hard to move on.

When he remembers you, he remembers the seafleck salt upon your lips, remembers the damp hems of his pants and the brine in the air. You are the sea and the sea is you, undeniably intertwined, and all this was just both parts of you reconjoining at once.

—

Willy’s birthday, 24th of Summer, comes, passes. He’s sitting on the docks, alternating between taking light sips from Leah’s most recent bottle and pouring shots out into the sea, when Linus suddenly sits himself down beside him. Next to Linus, Clint, and finally Marlon on the far side.

“Are we interrupting?” Linus asks. Elliott shakes his head. Behind them, Willy’s shop looms, dark-windowed, beast with eyes hidden behind their lids.

“He was a good man,” Marlon says after a moment, “took us across the sea more than once. Would’ve liked to die on the water, if you pardon me saying.”

Clint hums in agreement. “Told me to just… y’know, roll him into the surf when he keeled over. Uh, I always thought he was crazy, but…”

“And she,” Marlon adds, referring to you, “brave ‘un too. If a storm was somethin’ you could fight, she’d’ve come back no worse for wear.”

Dawn is upon them before they’re even done swapping stories, the bottle empty, all those many drops poured for Willy to drink, eventually, wherever he is. They stumble back to their respective homes, but Elliott remains on the dock. The air is charged not only from the weight of a thousand recollections, but something else, something bright and salty and there are only a few days left, now, only a few days left.

—

A storm. Promised by the newfound height of the waves, grasping at the lip of the dock, by the pebbled clouds overhead. Elliott sits within his cabin, listening to the wind do its damn best to try and uproot the thing, and draws a monster upon the table. Today, tonight by technicality, is the anniversary, and there is none of that crushing weight he’d expected, no grief that bows his back down like a sapling.

Leah makes it to his cabin by mid-day, when the winds are just beginning to pick up. “Hey,” she tells him, when he opens the door, “I think your house might blow down. Do you want to come back to my place?”

“No,” he replies, looking not at her but instead over her shoulders, at the ocean beyond. “No.”

“If you’re sure,” she says doubtfully. Gives him a hesitant pat on the shoulder, “just don’t blow away, ‘kay? I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll try my best.”

She leaves after only one more reproachful look over her shoulder, braid whipping about in the breeze. For lack of anything better to do, he sits himself down in front of a small mirror, and begins to work back through his hair. If he closes his eyes… well, if he closes his eyes, then it’s nowhere near the sensation of your fingers working through his hair, primarily because he needs to positively yank to untangle some of these knots, but it reminds him of that feeling, anyways.

Often, it was the prelude to things. Him, sprawled out in bed, head upon your lap, while you worked your fingers through his scalp, scratching lightly enough to make his back arch in search of more. Then, of course, inevitably, it would turn to kissing, to the warmth of your tongue and the press of his body upon yours, hands still entangled in his hair. To him within you, suit discarded somewhere upon the floor, skin to skin in all the closest of ways.

Outside, thunder cracks, and lightning flashes like the whip of some storm god overhead. He runs his fingers through his hair one final time, moving to the window. The waves are dark and obsidian, an infinite tar pit with many primeval beasts rotting within, mesozoic creatures under the coruscant sun, and there is something, there is a shape beneath the waves.

He presses a palm to the window. Watches.

It rises like a buried God, head breaking the surface, then body, torso and hips and legs until it is shedding the last of the sea, still walking steadily across the beach.

It looks at him.

You look at him, and he knows.

Elliott rushes to the door and flings it open, allowing the wind to bunch and unfurl into the house, send his papers scattering, but none of that matters because it is you, you the same and different all at once. Hair plastered to your cheeks and your neck, naked, dripping. As you draw closer, more details make themselves clear, more strangeness. Your left eye is entirely gone, nothing but a gaping hole, and the skin of your right cheek has been superseded by the iridescence of scales—indeed, they run down your arms too, coil around your legs. Some of your skin is rocky, barnacled, made up of nothing but gray crag, but you are too close to turn back, and he would not turn back either way.

Only when you are right before him do you pause. Part of your upper lip has been torn away by a predator in the depths, and the teeth it reveals are jagged, barbed.

“You’re back,” he says. You fall forwards, into his arms, bracing yourself only once he has stumbled back under the brunt of your weight. A long moment is dedicated simply to holding you, to breathing in the briny scent of your skin, running his fingers down the slickness of the scales that line your skin.

And then, you look up at him, singular remaining eye wide. He notices that there are small threads of gossamer substance entangled throughout your hair, and, when he looks closer, they have eyes too, many small pinpricks looking back at him.

“Where have you been?” He asks. You tilt your head a fraction of a fraction, almost imperceptible, open your mouth to reveal those long, sharp teeth, and beyond them, a tongue that is black as coal, blending into the darkness that falls upon the back of your throat. Close it with a snap. He reaches out, uses a light finger to trace that ragged bit of flesh where your face was torn apart and you duck instinctively, shy.

“No,” he says, “no, no,” reaching a hand beneath your chin to tilt your face back up, “you’re beautiful. Still. Did you get my letter? I’ll always love you.”

You do not blink. The pupil of that eye is slitted now, like a snake’s, a goat’s, and he could not care less. He runs his hands down your side, over the rocky bits that stick out from your waist, ducks his head so his forehead can settle against yours.

“So much has changed,” he whispers, “I can’t write without you, you know. You’re my muse. I miss you terribly, every second, every day.”

Your hands, clawed, tighten around his side. He dips a bit lower, lips to yours, waits a fraction of a second to see if you’ll draw away—if you’re different now, if you are nothing but unfeeling sea—but no, your grip tightens once again, grabbing handfuls of his suit jacket, and you lean up. When your tongues meet, it is a bit of a shock, slippery with some bitter sort of mucous. Reminds him of Gus’s drink. Reminds him of death at sea. Reminds him that, no matter what, he still has you here and relatively whole before him, so none of that matters, and he takes it in stride, deepening the kiss.

He cuts himself on your teeth, he’s pretty sure, because the taste of copper fills both your mouths, but that is of little matter and little consequence, simply another flavor to this kiss. Se maneuvers you slowly to the bed, wetting his sheets, tracking sand in, and has he not already established that none of this matters?

Slowly, you pull him down, dipping until your back lays flat upon the sheets, hand wandering to run up and down his back in an almost wondrous way. Maybe you are just as surprised to see him as he is for you. Maybe both of you have been lost in equal ways, land and sea, forever separated by that line in the sand. As the shock of initial embrace wears off, there comes the new realization that you are in fact naked, and you are pulling him towards you. He draws back for only a second to shuck off his suit and, with fumbling fingers, unbutton the seam of his pants, kicking them off. The area around your mouth is stained with red and black and still slick with seawater. It is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

Soon, he’s unclothed as well, and hardly a moment is wasted in pulling him back. Though you are not entirely flesh anymore, the parts he is interested in are all seemingly intact. Not that he’d mind if they weren’t. He’s determined enough to find a way. He starts with first a hand, but you make a quick movement, angling your chin towards him, and so he withdraws that and thrusts in fully instead, into the smoothness of your warmth. His hand, he moves back up to your chest, rubbing in slowly-expanding circles. When he reaches the patch of scales beneath your armpit, you huff out a quiet breath, and then, as he begins to scratch along their seams, you begin to writhe, so he lingers.

“I’ve missed you,” he whispers, and he’s said this already, but you are not here to stay, he knows. Just a slip of seafoam in the breeze, the briefness of a late-summer storm, “it’s why I stay, so I can be-” you clench, and he loses track of his words for a brief moment—“-be here, with the sea, with you. I wade, sometimes, and pretend that it is an embrace.”

Overtly wordy confession of love when you are saying nothing at all, but the tail end of his words coincides with you tensing beneath him, so perhaps it had an effect after all. He tips over the edge in unison, both of you free-falling, and you bite into his neck with those sharp teeth, hard enough that blood immediately wells up and stains the sheet. Another dimension of pleasure, in such an adrenaline-hazed state, the spike of salt at the end of a long drink.

Coming down is an exercise in drowsiness and the slow return of pain, both in his tongue and upon his neck, both lacerated by your teeth. His hair is matted in sweat and seawater and blood, spread out across the sheets, and you take to combing through it. When your newfound claws scratch against his scalp, it makes him shiver in something approaching rapture. Eventually, though, he cannot even stand that, too far from you, and instead turns to press his face into your chest.

He is crying, he realizes belatedly. You run a single finger down from the crown of his head to the nape of his spine, and there it lingers.

“How can I do it?” He murmurs into your chest, breath hot against your skin, “I cannot write without you, I cannot… cannot live. I wish to throw myself from the cliffs, some days. Would we be together, then?”

Your chin scrapes across his head in a negation. Whatever you did, whatever happened to allow you survival, he supposes it’s something he—boy born with an iridium spoon in his mouth, whose half-formed childhood idea of rebellion was to run off and become a hermit—would never be able to stand.

“How, then?” He asks. You rest your head upon his with a heavy weight, a heavy finality, and he knows you have no good answer. He rises after a long moment, an idea striking him—leans over, skin unsticking from yours, to grab a quill and one of the many papers scattered across the room. “Can you-”

You cut him off with a shake of your head, a shrug. Whether that means that you physically cannot write, do not know how to write, or any number of possibilities between those, he’s unsure, but he deflates almost as quickly. Seeing his sudden disappointment, you hesitate, before pointing towards the letter, towards the sea.

“I should continue sending?” He asks. You nod, a small, controlled motion. “I will,” he vows immediately, “Every day, a poem, a sonnet, for you, for the sea. My… my muse, my love, my glimmering waters,” and the last bits of that devolve into nonsense as he once again buries his head against you, laps the salt from your skin.

Sleep comes with the swiftness of a storm. The last thing he recalls is saline, a sharp hand circling the top of his head.

—

The bed is cold when he wakes. He reaches, instinctively, for you, but his hands hit nothing but damp blankets.

When he finally pushes himself into a sitting position, he sees many wet puddle-footsteps leading to the open door, already soaking into the hardwood floor.

Outside, there is no difference. The sea is placid. Unfeeling.

He smiles anyways.

Returns into his cabin and pens with a fervor—a poem, firstly, long enough that it stretches across the length of the paper, and then a letter on the other side, rolls it up and sends it into the sea. Finishes it with his signature, and then, under that, love you always.

—

One last thing.

The Dance of the Moonlight Jellies comes with the last bits of dusk. More muted than usual, of course, townsfolk picking their way through the detritus of the beach, and Elliott is already upon the docks.

Lewis sends off the lantern without much ado, no ceremony or great speech, and the jellies appear as pinpricks upon the horizon that undulate, pulsing with their own internal rhythm.

But in the water off to the side of the dock, he notices something. Believes it to be a jelly, at first, but no, it’s glassy and hard and, when he reaches down to grab it, he finds that it is a bottle. One of Leah’s old ones, filled with silted seawater and a scrap of paper.

He opens it carefully, heart staccato in his chest. Out comes flooding the water over his hand, and along with it, the delicate scrap. He unfolds it as slowly as his eager hands are able, cautious not to rip it.

It’s one of his own letters. Can’t remember when he wrote it, what it was about, but there is clearly a bit of text available, framed by the ragged edges.

In familiar black script, it reads, until next year.

He watches the jellyfish slowly approach below, lit by some internal glow, and thinks that it cannot come soon enough.

#sdv elliott #stardew elliott #elliott x reader #elliott x farmer #sdv elliott x reader #fanfiction #angst #slightly offputting sea monster smut

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