#aphrodite made me!

[shouyuus]

doctor, doctor

zayne; 3,377; fluff and smut, no "y/n", knowing use of sex drugs, handjob, oral (f!receiving), face riding, shockingly soft intermission, missionary, internal creampies, banter (it's zayne duh), needy!zayne

summary: zayne volunteers as a guinea pig to test out an antidote to a new love drug. spoiler alert: the antidote sucks.

a/n: phew! i haven't written this much porn in... /checks watch/ well ever really. but im not that mad about it! it's a genre i've always felt a bit weak in so im glad to get some practice :) pls enjoy!

aphrodite made me!! masterlist

─── 黎深 YOU KNOW SOMETHING’S WRONG the second he gets home. There’s a bright flush to his cheeks, a glassy look to his eyes, and he reaches out to brace himself against the counter almost as soon as he’s through the door, sucking in a deep breath.

“Z-Zayne? What’s wrong?” you rush up to him, reaching out to press a palm to his cheek, lashes fluttering as you pull it away, startled. “Oh my god, you’re burning up!”

“No — it’s fine. I’m fine.” He tries to push you away, but can’t help the soft groan that leaves his lips as he nuzzles into your touch. You frown, letting him press into the palm of your hand before he turns to drop a kiss to your skin, looking down at you with hooded eyes. “It’s… not what you think.”

“Not what I…” you blink up at him, worry slowly being eclipsed by a trembling uncertainty.

Something’s not right, you think, but judging by the way he’s still able to hold himself steady, he’s not that sick. So then —

“Ah… fuck —” he curses, leaning forward to bury his nose into your shoulder, tugging you to him in a sudden embrace that has you squeaking, startled by the strength of his hold. And you’re not imagining it; up this close, you can feel his thready heartbeat reverberating through his chest to yours, and his arms around you — is he… trembling?

“Zayne?”

It’s so rare that he curses so easily, so openly. Usually, this kind of language is reserved for the bedroom but —

You go still in his arms, heat washing up the back of your neck into your cheeks as you feel the unmistakable hardness against your hip. Your mind grinds to a startling halt as you try to reconcile these two pieces of strange, incompatible information.

He’s sick… but he’s hard?

“Sorry — I just —” he tries to pull away, shaking his head as if to clear it but his eyes are still glazed when he stumbles back and lets himself sag against the closed front door. You let your eyes take stock of him — his ruddy cheeks and fluttering lashes, the shiver in his limbs, the clench in his jaw as he looks anywhere but at you.

“Zayne. What’ going on?”

He almost hisses at the sharp edge to your tone.

“There’s a new drug out on the market,” he says, his voice thin even as he cards a hand through his hair and tries to take a steadying breath. “It’s… being sold underground, and it’s a potent —” he swallows, tugging at his collar, and it’s only then that you notice the thin sheen of sweat glistening over his skin, “— a potent love drug.”

Your eyebrows skyrocket as you blink up at him.

“A… love drug?”

Zayne sighs, frowning slightly as he jerks at his tie, pulling the knot loose to let it hang around his neck as he thumbs at the top button of his shirt. His fingers, usually so quick and nimble, seem strangely uncoordinated. And after a second, you reach out to gently swat his hand away, popping the top button for him, blushing as he hisses out a breath and lets his head thump back against the door.

“Yes,” he answers, his voice clipped as he tries to look anywhere but at your face. “Our R&D department has been developing a cure and —”

“And?” you ask, letting your finger trace down the thin band of his exposed chest to catch on the next button of his shirt.

“And…” he swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he purses his lips, “they needed willing participants to —”

Understanding floods through you like a wash of cold water. You let out a disbelieving laugh.

“You volunteered to test the antidote,” you say, staring up at his flushed face, his sweat-slick skin, the unfocused fracture to his eyes, the way his pupils are blown so wide they look almost entirely black.

You lick your lips, feeling another wave of heat crest through you as tingles shoot down your spine at the thought.

“Yes,” he answers again, sounding aggrieved and relieved both that you’ve finally understood.

“But…” you let your words trail off, letting your eyes rake down his trembling body and back up again.

Zayne sighs, shaking his head, “Well, it’s a work in progress.”

“Mm,” you hum, biting back a laugh that you know wouldn’t be entirely appropriate, given the desperate look on his face. Still, that forbidden knot had started to twist in your gut as you assess the situation.

It’s not every day that chance delivers your boyfriend so pliant and willing to your literal shared front door. And you’ve never been one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“So?” you say, taking half a step back and folding your arms, reveling in the way he tips forward immediately to chase your warmth. “How do we —” you wave a hand towards him, feeling a strange, impossible fit of giggles threatening to spill from you at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Zayne slates you a rueful look before leaning back to pinch at his nose bridge.

“T-the researchers say that the effects —” he pauses to take another deep breath. You can’t help noticing the increasingly obvious bulge in his work slacks and you feel your own thighs tense as the knot in your stomach twists just a tad tighter. “The effects should wear off on their own in a few hours but…”

“But?” you prompt, lacing your hands behind your back as you teeter on the balls of your feet, feeling an ever-familiar tingle race from the nape of your neck to the tips of your toes.

“But… there’s nothing much to do except to —” Zayne’s fingers twitch as he forces himself to open his eyes and stare at a nondescript point over your shoulder, “to ride it out, as they say.”

At this, you break — you fall into a fit of giggles that has Zayne sighing again as he pushes himself off the door and making his unsteady way to the bedroom.

“W-wait! Where’re you going?” you ask, tugging at his arm.

He twists to stare at you, “I — to bed. Or I can sleep on the couch tonight if it’ll make you more —”

You roll your eyes and yank him down for a kiss. He can’t even pretend to protest as he moans and melts into the heat of your mouth. You thread your fingers through his hair and feel his palms gripping at your waist, tight, and then tighter.

“Y’know… for a smart guy… you’re really kind of clueless sometimes.”

“Y-yeah?” Zayne asks, his breath hot against your lips. You nod, letting him tug you both back towards the bedroom, him nearly stumbling in his haste, you biting back another fit of giggles as he sits down hard on the edge of the bed and slots you between his legs, running his hands up and down the backs of your legs, fingers dancing towards the lace trimming of your panties.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to help you?” you ask, your voice low.

He lets out another thick groan as you cup his cheeks and tilt his head back to look at you.

“I — I don’t — I thought that maybe —” he stutters, but you shake your head.

“C’mon doc,” you say, grinning as his eyes narrow. You give his chest a light push and watch, satisfied, as he allows himself topple back onto the mattress. “Tell me where it hurts.”

He sucks in a breath between his teeth, staring at you with a look of such unadulterated love that you find yourself almost getting shy. Almost. You crawl onto the bed, nudging apart his legs, walking your fingers up this thighs as he jerks, head falling back into the pillows.

“Please…” the plea leaves his lips parted, and you feel the heat pulse between your own legs, feel your mouth water as you look down at the pliant, panting form of Zayne’s body, spread out on the bed, his chest rising and falling at quick intervals as he watches you from beneath hooded eyes.

Briefly, you consider teasing him, but disregard the thought after realizing that he’d probably driven home feeling much like this. And you reach up to tug loose the belt, making quick work of his trousers, pulling down his boxers to reveal his cock — thick and leaking so much precum that your hands come away sticky.

“A-ah — fuck.” Again, he swears, as you tentatively wrap your fingers around his girth, and it’s not the first time you’ve done this, nor will it be the last, but it never fails to surprise you (just a little) how thick he is in your hands — how your fingers don’t reach all the way around.

You give him a few solid pumps, feeling the angry veins pulse beneath your palms as you try to work up a tempo, his hips jumping as he lets out a string of deep, throaty moans that have you clenching around nothing.

“Wait — wait —” he reaches for you, his thighs jumping slightly as your rhythm slows, and he hisses out a long breath, his brows furrowed as you tease your thumb around the underside of his cock hood, allowing yourself a tiny, devious grin as he whimpers high in the back of his throat.

“Yes, doc? Did you have any… complaints?” you drag your tongue across your lips before leaning down and letting your hot breath fan over his purpling head, feeling the heat between your own legs spread through you as thick beads of precum ooze from his slit.

“Come — come here —” he motions up the bed and you cock your head, glancing back down at what you’re certain is quite the painful erection.

“You don’t want…” you tighten your hold around his shaft as he catches his lips in his teeth and groans.

“I — I do. But I want —” he swallows, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief second, “I want to taste you.”

Desire curls solid at the base of your spine as you feel yourself throbbing at the thought. Zayne’s never been anything but a devout lover, and you’d often reflected that it really does pay to have a boyfriend who has a truly occupational knowledge of human anatomy.

“Yeah?” you ask, your own voice going breathy as you inch up the mattress, his hands settling so easily on the plush of your thighs, his eyes flitting up and down your body almost as if he doesn’t quite know where to look. You lift up your skirt and tug off your panties, with the full intention of lowering yourself slowly, but with a wretched moan, Zayne pulls you down over his face hard enough for you to gasp, your weight tipping forward so hard that you have to brace your hands on the backboard to stop yourself from toppling right over.

You feel his tongue lick a long strip along the seam of your cunt, the sting of his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds you over his mouth, groaning into the sopping heat of you, his tongue already pushing into you as he gives your clit a hard suck that has your mind fizzing out into tv static.

“Z-Zayne — oh fuck —!”

He strains against you, pressing his face so far into you you’re almost afraid he’s going to suffocate, but he only holds you tighter when you try to pull away, his mouth chasing your puffy lips. You grind yourself against his face, feeling his nose nudge at your clit as he sinks his tongue ever deeper into you, fucking it into you with a perverse need.

And it doesn't take long like this, not when he's so intimately aware of all your softest parts, all your most sensitive places.

“I — ah — ah — I’m s-so —” you stutter, as you feel the familiar tightening in your belly, the coil twisting as thin tendrils of heat start to skitter up through your limbs and you feel your orgasm building inside you.

Zayne lets out a debauched moan, letting it rumble from his mouth straight into your cunt and it’s enough to have your eyes fluttering shut as you break over his mouth, whimpering, hips stuttering as the white-hot fire chases washes through you in a great wave, leaving you feeling boneless and slightly winded.

Zayne pulls away panting, licking his lips, his eyes dark as an oil spill, completely devoid of light as he stares up at you, his gaze more licentious than you’ve ever seen it before. Even in the champagne-bubble weightlessness of your post-orgasmic haze, you recognize the crystalizing need in his movements as he releases your thighs, his handprints inked into your skin, red and fresh — you’re sure they’ll still be there tomorrow.

“H-how do you want me?” you ask, your voice a little slurred as he reaches up to wipe a thumb along his bottom lip, collecting the remnants of your slick there, only to lean in and press his mouth to yours. You groan against him, the messy tang of your own juices sharp on your tongue as he kisses you, pressing you back into the mattress till you’re pinned beneath him.

“Just like this…” he whispers, and you marvel at the restraint still in his actions, even as he quickly sheds the rest of his clothing, tossing them off into the careless dark of the room.

There’s a moment, caught in-between one kiss and the next, where he pulls back and looks at you, his eyes so soft, his expression unguarded, where you wonder if you’ll ever be able to see yourself through his eyes, and a tender warmth spreads through you as you realize that this is what love has always meant to feel like. There have been fireworks, yes, and whirlwinds. There’ve been storms and sunny days. But there will always be moments like this, caught in the almost light of a moonless night, when you are so much more than the sum of your parts, added together.

When your bodies are more breath than air, skin and share, and all the parts of you that you might’ve wanted to hide from the world are here, collected in the negative space between your bodies, held and loved like buried treasure.

“I love you,” he says, quietly, simply.

You gasp as you feel him pushing into you, his cock stretching you till you’re nearly breathless.

“I — I love you too.”

Zayne nods, fucks into you till he’s bottomed out, and though you can feel his arms trembling with the effort, he holds still to let you adjust. And it’s not till you give him a tiny nod that he puffs out a held breath and pulls back to fuck right back into you again. You keen, head tossing back into the mess of sheets, feeling every vein and ridge of his cock as it drags along your clenching walls.

“I don’t — I won’t be able to —” he can’t make out a full sentence, but you don’t care, just the size and weight of him are enough to make your vision blinker out at the edges.

“Mm — h-harder — please Zayne —” and its his name more than anything that proves his undoing. He lets out a clipped grunt before straightening and pulling your legs up, shifting your hips till you’re flush against him.

“Y-yeah — I’ve got you —” he gives you calf a quick kiss before rucking his hips down, his cock ramming into your g-spot hard enough for you to see stars. And then hammering into you with a desperate speed, chasing his own pleasure and it’s all you can do to keep from being tossed over the edge, too far, too fast.

“Yes — yes — yes!” you’re babbling something, nails scrabbling at his arms, his chest, his back, at anything you can reach as he pummels your abused hole, bullying his cock deeper and deeper into you till you clench around him, your orgasm blazing through you even as he shows no signs of slowing down.

“It’s — you feel — so — tight —” his pace stutters, his voice breaking over your name as he hoists one of your legs over his hips, “I’m —”

You nod, reaching up to tug a strand of hair away from his sweat-slicked forehead.

“I-inside — you can — want you to fill me up —”

Zayne keens, thrusting forward one last time before you feel him pulsing inside you, the warm spill of his cum stuffing you full till you can feel the remnants leaking down the curve of your ass. You bite your lips, swallowing hard as Zayne jerks into you a few more times till he finally stills, the pair of you both panting, your bodies sticky now with too many bodily fluids to count.

You let out a breathy laugh as he hisses, casting you a reproachful look.

“Y-you’re still hard…”

He sighs, nodding, “Yes… it’s one of the… more tedious side effects of the drug.”

He makes to pull out but you stop him, tugging him into your chest and running a hand through his sweat-soaked hair.

“You need to tell your R&D department that their antidote is very ineffective.”

Zayne chuckles, rolling onto his side and pulling you with him, the pair of you now curled into each other, his arms around you, his twitching cock still pressed inside you.

“Yes, I’ll be sure to send them a memo.”

You nuzzle further into his chest but your eyes catch on the clock hanging on the opposite wall and you frown.

“It’s only been… 43 minutes?”

Zayne glances at the clock as well before turning his gaze back towards you.

“Seems so.”

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth go dry as you feel him throb once more inside you.

“How long… did you say the effects last for again?”

Zayne heaves a very serious-sounding sigh even as you adjust yourself to be sitting over his hips, his cock sheathed inside you as you plant your hands on his chest.

“The R&D department said anywhere from a few hours to…” he lets his words trail off, a devious glint flashing behind his eyes, “in the worst cases, a few days.”

You shiver as he casually settles his palms on your hips, rocking you forward and back. You let out a hitched moan as your over-sensitive clit drags along the skin of his lower abdomen and his cock jerks inside you.

“D-days?” you echo, swirling your hips around in a soft figure 8 that has him sucking in a harsh breath, his brows furrowing with pleasure.

“Y-yeah… I’m assuming your offer of help still s-stands?” he does his level best to keep his voice dry, but his breath hitches as you pull yourself up the length of his cock before slamming back down. And already, there’s that self-same hunger eclipsing the light in his eyes as he stares down at the place where a thick ring of white has formed around the base of his cock, more liquid seeping out of you with every moment you make.

“Mm — maybe I’ll need a f-few breaks but —” you whimper as he thrust up into you, his thighs clenching beneath you, “like you said w-we just n-need to ride it out, right?”

Zayne purses his lips in concentration as he roots his feet into the bed before fucking up into you once, twice, three times, bouncing you on his cock with the sheer strength of his legs and thighs.

“Right.”

all taglist pt 1: @faeryminnyx @trashkitty @sorapricots @tricia816xoxo @nayo3ns @veetallla @notfr0mh3r3 @sh4nn @animecrazy76 @celestialforce @celestialzdiviner @m00nchildwrites @glitching-wren @ivana013-blog @rafayelsgf @pikachuzhc @angellinnie @stardewy @zombigirlfriendsblog @storyland-ofstars @xxfaithlynxx @crazy-ink-artist

all taglist pt 2: @wowunreal @boobearymuch @livonianmaia @celestialmoni @colorfulgardenerduck @bunnylechef @rikiwaify-blog @deepspacewithrafayel @nogitsune-the @carrotsandkoos @stardustwtx @yaoduriaa @queen-serena88 @stunies @simpingdailyforthem @love-and-deepstrays @small-fry28

the rest of the tags will be in the reblog!

[mournfulroses]

Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2019

[aphrodite-kallisti]

✨Venus day✨

[huntingrays]

valgrace prompt: aphrodite makes piper a deal that if she can successfully match make a couple then she will give piper any type of magical item she likes. she isn’t inclined to take the deal due to her not wanting to meddle around in other people’s love lives.

however, after leo comes out to her, she makes a deal with him. she says she’ll find him the perfect boyfriend (since she doesn’t mind meddling in leo’s love life) and succeed in aphrodite’s deal. it’s a win-win situation since he’ll get an amazing, loving, piper-approved boyfriend and she’ll get whatever magical item she wants from her mom.

it sounds like an easy task but it sudden becomes incredibly hard when she realizes leo doesn’t have a type. when she asks him about what he looks for in a guy, all he can come up with are “not an asshole” and “preferably not evil” and “thinks i’m funny” which aren’t very helpful. also, he seems not to have any physical preferences other than thinking muscles are attractive.

eventually, after some talking he suggests (partially as a joke) that all the things listed in holding out for a hero are what he would want in his ideal man. with this, piper is on the search to find the best boyfriend for her best friend.

however, as piper is on her search, she begins to realize that jason not only fits all the requirements but is practically the perfect boyfriend and already clicks amazingly well with leo. now, she’s determined to set up her ex boyfriend and best friend with her other best friend.

[astrobei]

in my heart of hearts mike wheeler is absolutely an athena kid but i also have to offer up a concept that i think has extreme comedic and dramatic potential aka: repressed gay teenager mike showing up at camp half blood unsure of who his godly parent is and feeling insecure about not having powers and one day when he’s making not-so-secret heart eyes at his best friend and son of apollo will byers is when a bunch of glowing floating hearts show up above his head. and that’s how mike gets claimed by none other than aphrodite, the goddess of love and sexuality, and is in full denial about it for three days because he thinks it’s some kind of sick and twisted JOKE

(on aphrodite’s end, she’s upset mike is throwing away the gift of true love and keeps trying to trick him out of repression by making more and more improbable and hilarious gifts appear when he and will are hanging out. mike hands will a book and it turns into a box of chocolates and he has to fling it away like a frisbee before will sees it. they’re having lunch and romantic music starts playing. she gives mike the same blessing she used to claim piper and will can’t even look in his direction for a full day because he starts blushing so hard. fifty bouquets of flowers show up at the apollo cabin’s doorstep with a note that says love, mike and by the end of it, mike isn’t even repressed and unsure about his sexuality anymore — he’s just trying to not throw himself into the bonfire out of sheer embarrassment)

[alexisberry413]

i ughh i lost it

[aphroditevee]

love is magical ♥️

[words-and-coffee]

love has little to do with blood relations/ and more to do with who you choose to bleed for

Trista Mateer, Aphrodite Made Me Do It

[wordswithloveee]

[doodlingwren]

No way

[kastalani123]

(if you prefer Ao3)

They learn about it in the slowly bubbling, uncertain high of victory.

She died a hero, Clarisse says, repeats, convinces, closing Drew’s hands around a bracelet far too innocent to make everyone’s hearts sink with just a glance. Its silver colour is barely visible beneath the blood. Drew’s hands were already long slick with crimson. She doesn’t say anything.

(The daughter of Ares tells them the story as they pick up their other fallen siblings. Nobody responds)

Fuchsia with an apple for Anders, seventeen and the loveliest relationship advisor. Lacy only manages a few words through her sobs and tears, her hair still in the intricate but effective braid he had put it in before battle.

Coral with a conch shell for Khalid, twelve with a love for anything one could find at the bottom of the ocean. Valentina grips his stuffed anglerfish so tightly that she almost tears it while making her speech about him.

Salmon with a thorned rose for Ina, fifteen and the best fighter in the cabin. Mitchell can barely stand while talking, choked by having been unable to retrieve more of her than a gnarled arm, recognizable only through the heart-shaped birthmark spanning the back of her hand.

Magenta with a dove for Sawyer, fourteen with the kindest eyes in the world. Drew lays the sword they had never wanted in the fire and watches it melt into perfumed smoke without a word.

Cerise with flowering myrtle for Jasmin, sixteen and the craftiest painter around. Aminah bites her knuckles to the blood in a failed attempt not to cry when the burning paints colour the fire in impossible hues.

… Hot pink with an electric spear for Silena. Clarisse sets the fire with a blank face, dried tear tracks gouging grooves down her cheeks.

(A grief-stained title of cabin counsellor for Drew, fourteen with the weight of her world suddenly on her shoulders. Cabin Ten cannot keep her from turning her head high, eyeliner sharper than it’s been in years.)

----------

It’s not Drew who orders all signs of Silena Beauregard to be scrubbed from the insides of Cabin Ten. 

Instead, Mitchell passes through the cabin while the others haunt around Camp like the ghosts they had avoided becoming. Carefully, carefully, he folds up Silena’s fashionista posters, picks pictures of her off the clothing clips on the strings strung up throughout the cabin, strips her bed of the flower pillows they’d all collaborated to get for her last (final) birthday, collects clothes from her section of shelves and drawers, and packs everything with even a trace of her into the suitcase under his bed. Grief echoes off the bare spaces, sandalwood perfume soaking into the walls, a vestige of one of the many lives struck short these past several days.

His siblings don’t say anything when they finally come and find him curled up on Ina’s bed, clutching her morning star plush like it’s the only thing keeping him tethered to his body, the entire cabin missing key elements. Drew starts to get ready for bed, Aminah throws herself onto Jasmin’s bed and shatters, Lacy tears her hair free of Anders’s braid with a wail, and Valentina screams into Khalid’s pillows until her voice is hoarse. Mitchell swears he hears similar sounds from the other cabins.

(Rory comes the next day, backpack full of clothing designs he hadn’t bothered to unpack in his rush upon hearing about the strange happenings in New York. He takes one look at his siblings’ hollowed faces, at the bare beds, at the empty spaces, and breaks, begging for forgiveness for not being there to fight along their sides, for not protecting them like an older brother should, for working on his college projects while they fought and died for the world. Drew scoffs, lips perfectly painted, and says there’s a reason they didn’t tell him war was brewing over their last Iris Message. The others pile onto him, cursing and crying and trying to keep themselves from falling into pieces.)

----------

Officially, Silena Beauregard is a hero. She had been burned with laurel wreaths, and offerings were tossed into the fire to aid her journey to Elysium. Her photo has been put up in the Big House alongside many others, and even Mr D managed not to butcher “Silena Beauregard” for once, prompted by a centaur kick. Her name is whispered under the topic of the ultimate sacrifice, of the power of love, of the bravery of unexpected leaders.

Unofficially, the only one who speaks her name with pure reverence is Clarisse La Rue, and no one says it with such vitriol as Drew Tanaka. Her spy bracelet, still drenched in blood, has been hurled against a wall and remains hidden and gathering dust under her bed. Her cabin has been scrubbed clean of any mentions of her, her name unspoken in fear of Drew’s newfound cruelty.

(Drew builds back up the walls her siblings had dismantled with so much care, taller and thicker than ever before.)

(Mitchell retreats back into himself, the skittishness he had worked so hard to shed shrouding him in full force once again.)

(Lacy melts into the crowd like never before, burying her voice beneath a blanket of sorrow.)

(Valentina ditches her soft colours and loose wardrobe, forcing attention onto her new tastefully torn jeans and bold shades and away from her wail-wrecked throat.)

(Aminah tugs her grief tight around herself and leaves with the summer, her goodbye lacking a definitive “see you later”.)

----------

Two boys, adorned in pearls and guided by geese, arrive in a cabin full but hollow, plagued by dead siblings and a traitorous hero. Twins, they are, nine years old and unknowing of the carnage of war, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Drew scoffs and scolds but leaves them to her remaining siblings, for her sharp tongue has never been suited for introductions, and even in the wake of her death-stained rule, she will not dare shut children down so soon after arrival.

Names of all the ghosts haunting the cabin become unspoken, none willing to explain them and blemish the twins’ innocence.

It does not work.

Not when Lev walks in on Lacy sorting and resorting dozens of vials of perfumes with shaking hands and trembling breaths. Not when Ren asks Valentina about the night sky painted on the wall over an empty bed and she shuts down entirely for the rest of the day. Not when Lev holds up a mirror to help Mitchel neaten up the impulsive haircut he had given himself after a game of Capture the Flag. Not when Ren catches Drew in a screaming match with another camper over a girl he had never heard about.

Not when something weighs heavily over the empty spaces in the cabin, over the necks of their newfound siblings.

So they ask someone else.

Clarisse La Rue. Will Solace. Connor Stoll. Nyssa Barrera. Malcolm Pace.

Slowly, slowly, they collect pieces, find ways to fit them together, compare conflicting accounts. They get the story of clashing metal, raging fire, slithering scales. A frightful fairytale, starring their fellow campers as the main characters. The missing limbs, the overabundance of scars, the paranoid glances — it all clicks together, and the uncomfortable hollowness of Camp Half-Blood is suddenly apparent.

(Eventually, they ask about their own Cabin’s side of the story.)

(They receive no answer beyond solemn looks and half-hearted shrugs.)

----------

Piper McLean falls from the sky, crashing straight through the fragile roof of the system Cabin Ten has established for itself the moment she bursts with pink light.

She is… argumentative. Unwilling to cram herself into the tattered tapestry of their Cabin the war had left behind. Determined to be different, to stand out, to raise her hackles at those around her. Filled with an anger towards the paints and ruffles her siblings wrap themselves in, and unconcerned with not letting it spill over and burn them.

She challenges Drew, and they cheer.

(Will the sister-that-never-left finally come back to them?)

Drew scoffs and huffs, sharpens her nails on the sound of Piper’s voice, but does not fight.

(They have fought for so long, and she is tired, and maybe an older kid with none of the wounds that mar the rest of them is needed in Cabin Ten.)

(Within a month, Drew wrenches permission for them to leave Camp for a shopping trip out of Chiron, and they know she is coming back.)

[shouyuus]

─── 恋与深空 APHRODITE MADE ME!!

a mini-series of aphrodisiac-centric fics for our lnds boys bc how else do we celebrate kinktober if not under the influence? here you'll find fics that contain: sex pollen, heat-sex, and not one but two instances of sex-drug induced coitus -- don't say i didn't warn you now!

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged in one or all of these fics! cw and specifics below the cut. pls do have an age indicator on ur blog somewhere if ur asking to be tagged! your my mileage may vary in getting these fics out though, bc the muse is sporadic at best and nonexistent at worse, but i'll eventually have all these written... for sure! also, these summaries/tags might change slightly as i actually start to write the fics to better fit the content, but the broad storkes (ha! get it) won't change :) and without further ado -- here we go!

─── 黎深 ZAYNE

doctor, doctor!

he's not one known for overindulgence, so when he comes home from the hospital one day with flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes, you're understandably wary of his claim that he's just fine. but a few more minutes of probing reveals that he'd signed up to test a developing cure for a new strand of black-market aphrodisiacs on himself — well, you think, you might be just the person to nurse him back to health.

cw: knowing use of sex drugs, needy!zayn, internal creampies, handjobs, oral (fem receiving), face-riding, missionary

─── 祁煜 RAFAYEL

so it's that time of year again, except this year on ebb day, he's acting stranger than ever, begging you to touch him, to stay close — it isn't till he'd panting beneath you that he finally tells you the truth, that a lemurian in love reacts to ebb day differently. how differently? well, you're about to find out.

cw: heat!sex, premature ejaculation, power bottom!raf, switch!reader, cowgirl, oral (male receiving), abo-adjacent dynamics

─── 沈星回 XAVIER

it's not often that you come home to find xavier sprawled out on the bed, moaning your name, fucking his fist to the thought of you, but when you do, you can't help but wonder — what brought this on? turns out a lumiere fangirl handed him a box of chocolates and he didn't think twice about eating them. so, what better punishment is there than to let him look but not touch?

cw: unknowing use of sex drugs, guided masturbation, mutual masturbation, dom!reader, sub!xavier, orgasm denial, footjobs, bit of aftercare

─── 秦彻 SYLUS

when the twins drag sylus back, squawking about how he nearly got shot, you're more than a little worried. but it quickly becomes apparent that what sylus got shot with wasn't just any normal bullet, and it won't be fatal. but, it is going to be a long, long night, and being the caring captive that you are, what to do but to dress his wounds and help him work through whatever it is that he needs working through?

cw: sex pollen, dom!sylus, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, rough sex, doggy style, creampies, backshot, hair-pulling, biting

[mournfulroses]

Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2019

[aphrodite-kallisti]

[1njjrd]

anything i’ve held onto too tightly has slipped away like sand running through fingers the more i tried to keep it the quicker it vanished people, moments, feelings they don’t belong in clenched fists sometimes letting go is the only way to truly hold on because what’s meant to stay stays on its own terms

[bugwolfsstuff]

I'm headcanoning that Hermes had convinced Tyche to bless Luke as a baby with some form of luck because while yes his life is shit that mother fucker should not have escaped a dragon with more mental scars than physical

How the fuck did he survive half of this shit pre-curse of Achilles without some form of divine intervention