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ohwynne · 1 year

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TIMING: Somewhere between the two Allgood parties, like early July PARTIES: Mack & Wynne LOCATION: A Latte to Love SUMMARY: Mackenzie goes for a coffee run late at night, as Wynne is about to close the shop. A volmugger interrupts the actress' chance at a dose of caffeine. CONTENT WARNINGS: N/A

Mackenzie missed coffee. She missed the smell. She missed the taste. She missed the rush it gave her on late night shoots. Unfortunately, just like everything else in her life, it no longer tasted the same, smelled the same, or had the same effect. Just another punch to the gut as far she was concerned, but she needed some normalcy in her life. So a late night coffee run it was.

The bright sign on the front of the building advertised just what she needed. She had yet to really explore all of Wicked’s Rest, but this had been spotted on a passing glance. Pulling the door back to an almost empty shop, Mackenzie plastered on a fake smile, much like she used to do when paparazzi would hound her to death at the most random times, “Hey, I’m sorry for coming in so late, I just needed a caffeine boost. Are you guys still open?”

Wynne liked closing up. They liked the fact that they were trusted enough by their employer to do the closing up, as well as the rhythm that came with it. Making everything tidy. Cleaning everything. Checking off all the things on their mental checklist and feeling extremely satisfied when done. On top of it all, they often got to sneak some treats back home rather than throw them out.

But closing up, at this point, did mean that they were often mentally checked out to receive new customers. So when the little bell rung and another patron walked in, there was a little bit of mental shifting they had to do. Especially as they recognized the new patron as the girl who’d left early at Van’s party. “Hi! Yes, we’re still open. But only by a bit. What can I get you?” With those official things out of the way, they smiled. “I think we met at that party? I was sorry to see you leave. I’m Wynne, by the way.”

As soon as they spoke, Mackenzie seemed to recognize their voice along with them, “Wynne. Right. It’s nice to officially meet you. Sorry, for dipping out early. I realized at the last minute I had some stuff I needed to take care of, but it was a fun party.” The reality of the situation was that Nora had mentioned Hollywood and the possibility of why Mack had really left potentially coming out. It had been hard enough feeling like she could fit in here, and a great night had very quickly turned into a horrible one all thanks to a girl she thought she would never see again.

“How did the rest of the party go?” Mackenzie looked up at the menu on the wall while she listened. There had been a variety of options available, but coming in so late meant she would get what they had left, and with that realization, she let her eyes fall back on Wynne, “And, I’ll take whatever you have left, even if it’s cold. I really don’t care.” She was trying not to come off as defeated, but she was tired and the fake smile had already faltered after asking if they were still open.

They wondered if she spoke the truth, when saying that something had come up. Wynne could imagine wanting to just leave rather than stay, as the entire ordeal had been quite overwhelming, if not exciting. “No, it’s okay! Things come up, I get it.” They didn’t mention that it had been their first party like that, ever. That they had been surprised by the lack of seasonal celebration. “It was fun, yes. Maybe we can have another one sometime.”

She looked a little tired and Wynne wanted to ask what was wrong, but didn’t want to intrude. “It went very well, we ended up getting pizza so that was cool.” They did really love pizza. It was fastly becoming one of their favorite foods. “I can make you an iced latte? With maybe a syrup of your choice?” They looked over the other before ducking to get at least some ice, as that seemed crucial for whatever drink was going to be had by the other.

Mackenzie had longed to stay at the party, but after the words between her and Nora, it was a harsh reality of how easily her secret could have been exposed. Instead, she went home, curled up on the couch alone, and put on some shitty reality show on Netflix about food to try and distract herself, until night turned into day again. “I’m glad to hear everyone had fun. Pizza always makes the night so much better.” Her smile was genuine, but broken. “Yeah, that would be great.” She wasn’t sure if she’d be invited, but she’d cross that bridge when she got there.

“An iced latte would be perfect. What syrup do you recommend?” It’s not like she’d really be able to taste it very well, but it would still be refreshing and something pleasant. Plus, the caffeine seemed to give her a little buzz, but not like her normal choice of food did. “Hey, thanks again for making this for me. Sometimes you just need a late night coffee buzz, you know?” While Wynne went off to get ice, Mackenzie let her eyes wander around the small cafe, before they caught on something stumbling around outside. The glint from the street lights caused her eyes to narrow, until she caught a bit of purple and was drawn closer towards the window.

They nodded. “It does. I liked the game but I liked it more when we were just chatting.” There was something about that game that could turn somewhat mean, after all, and though it hadn’t quite happened in a disastrous way, Wynne was glad when it and its rules had fallen way. Maybe that was why the other had left. They tried to remember all the dares and questions that had been thrown around, but the beer had taken something of a toll on their mind that night. Ariadne had also been something of a distraction. “I haven’t been to a lot of parties, but I think it was pretty cool to go to one.”

They looked over all the bottles, “Maybe for this time of the day … butterscotch? Though elderflower is nice for the weather we’ve been having. I like most of them.” Wynne’s sweet tooth really did, and their favorite kept changing over time. “Oh, of course! I don’t mind doing it, and I get it.” They didn’t, as they just wanted to be tired when the day was over so they could sleep, but plenty of university students and professors shared the sentiment. They started preparing a shot of espresso, “What milk?” They bit their lip. “I’ll close up in about five, though. Just a heads up. I mean, if you want to sit here and drink for longer that’s fine, but you know.” They wanted to go home.

Everything Wynne was saying was falling away as Mackenzie seemed to find herself moving closer and closer to the window, “Hey…Wynne…what’s that?” Her eyes were wide, and she couldn’t seem to pull herself away as whatever it was started to move towards her. It was simultaneously the prettiest and the scariest thing she had ever seen. It easily reminded her of something out of Resident Evil, but not quite as ugly.

As it stumbled closer, Mackenzie raised her hand to the glass as if wanting to touch it, but once it was right in her face; the glass didn’t seem like the best place to be standing. If true diamonds could scratch glass, what the hell could this thing do? She instinctively started to breathe heavier despite not needing to breathe at all, but paused when she heard it say something, “Huh?” Leaning in closer, she heard what sounded like a random sentence strung together, “I can’t understand you?” When she glanced back up at it, she saw the hollow expression of someone she could have sworn she had seen around town only days before, but it was the sudden stream of liquid hitting the glass and burning through it that caused her to panic!

Backing away quickly and stumbling over a table and chairs, Mackenzie hit the floor with a hard thud and a grunt, before scrambling to her feet again and running back towards Wynne, “I don’t know what the fuck that thing is, but we’ve gotta go!”

The other became distracted by something outside and Wynne let their gaze drift to whatever was taking up Mack’s attention. Eyes widened, and they let go of the coffee machine, swallowing thickly as they tried to keep themself calm. “Come here,” they said to Mackenzie, who seemed entrenched by whatever was looking at her. “Get back.”

Because it was looking at her, wasn’t it? Despite the fact that there was no face. Wynne patted around them, trying to see if there was anything of use in this shop. But coffee didn’t have to be cut and all the sandwiches came in pre-sliced. They looked back up at the shop window and now the thing that had looked like a gemstone looked exactly like Jeffrey, a regular who always came in on Wednesdays and Fridays and talked loudly on his phone. This was wrong.

And then the glass broke, but not really. It disappeared, eaten away by some kind of liquid the thing had spat out. They let out a sound, thought vaguely of their manager and how pissed he’d be about Wynne being unable to close the shop without some kind of catastrophe. Mackenzie’s words brought them back and they nodded, diving underneath the divider that separated their place behind the bar from the rest of the shop. “Go! I’m right behind!” They sprinted, running once again, and tossing a look over their shoulder. As they caught up with Mackenzie, the pair burst through the door and hit the street, “What happened? Did you do something?”

Now that they were safe and outside, Mackenzie leaned over to find some kind of relief from how fast everything had just happened. Was that thing still after them? She wasn’t quite sure, but she was just grateful that her and Wynne had both made it out safely. Straightening up, she looked over at Wynne, “I didn’t do anything! That damn thing started talking to me and then shot its acid juice at me. What was that anyway?” She looked back towards the coffee shop.

Mackenzie didn’t know what to think. Was anything actually normal here? She had certainly come to the right place to fit in, but was it even safe. There had been a number of strange occurrences, but this one seemed to take the cake, “Why are there walking-talking rocks? What is this town, Wynne? Where did I move to?” She was clearly flustered and just wanted to go back to the safety of her own home, or better yet, California, but she knew what moving back across the country would mean, and quickly pushed that thought out of her head.

“Are you okay?” She looked back to Wynne hoping that thing didn’t somehow get them or shoot acid at them. “I mean, I can’t say much for the coffee shop, but as long as you’re okay…” Mackenzie let out a fast, hard sigh.

When Mackenzie slowed down, Wynne decided to as well, trying to calm down their breathing now that they were no longer pushing themself past their limits. They shook at her questions, “No clue, I have no clue what that was! But it looked like a regular, at some point, but he definitely never spat any acid! He likes sweet drinks.” Jeffrey had, in fact, liked pink drinks in carton cups so no one could see that he drank pink drinks. Wynne didn’t get it but didn’t want to argue with any customers.

As the other started wondering about the town they looked at her, not sure what to say. Wynne didn’t know a lot about the outside world, anyway, so perhaps every town was like this one. Or maybe Wicked’s Rest was special. It had felt more like home than any other of the other places they’d crashed in, if only because they were more accepting of those that diverged from the norm. “It’s weird, maybe? I don’t know! There’s a lot of things that don’t make sense. That seem to have a explanation beyond … like normal biology.” Not that they knew about that: Wynne’s education was quite limited when it came to any of that. “I’m okay. Yes, we’re okay, right? That could have been us, hit by that … and well, my boss will be mad, but I hope the cameras caught what happened? Are you okay?”

“Whatever that man’s been drinking was definitely not sweet.” Mackenzie had never heard of any kind of sugary drink melting glass. It did make her wonder if there was something in the water though. Had the mayor of Wicked’s Rest been feeding the town a special kind of Kool-Aid? She really didn’t want to know. She was dead anyways, so it wasn’t like it would affect her if he was though, right?

“Beyond normal biology…right.” Mackenzie walked back and forth nervously wondering what they should do next. Did they need to call someone? Could they just leave? Could they just go home and pretend like it never happened? As much as she wanted this to be the option, she also didn’t want to just leave Wynne to figure things out. This was their job, and she knew how important jobs could be, “Good. Good. I’m okay. You’re okay…And yes! Cameras.” There had to be cameras. “Do we need to stick around and call somebody or can we go?” She looked at Wynne desperately confused on what to do as she had never faced something like this before.

They almost laughed at that. Wynne looked at Mackenzie in disbelief. “No, definitely more acidic.” The fact that it hadn’t quite seemed to be a man was a fact they omitted. They didn’t seem like the right person to inform others that there was such a thing as supernatural creatures. They nodded as Mackenzie repeated their words. “Right. It’s a weird town. Or weird world, maybe!”

They wanted nothing more than to just go and leave, but that didn’t seem to be an option. The owner of the shop would be so disappointed, especially now that they trusted them to lock the store. “I need to, um, call my boss. And I left the door unlocked, but for obvious reasons I don’t really wanna go back right now.” Wynne inhaled sharply, wondering how they’d have to explain this. Would the cameras show what had happened? Or would this be like the time Nora had come and scared them into letting them steal a bunch of stuff. They felt like crying. They just wanted to do their stupid, simple job right. “Um, would you mind waiting with me until I’ve done that? After that, maybe we can go somewhere. Get a different drink. Or just go home, I don’t mind.” They offered a small smile. They thought of their bike, still at the shop. “What a day, huh?”

“Weird world…yeah.” She could definitely agree with the weird world statement. Mackenzie shut her eyes tightly. Why had she come out tonight? Staying in would have been the better option. The much better option. In fact, why did she leave her house anyways? After this maybe going back to her stupid television shows and unsavory food would be her safe, permanent thing. Forget trying to explore or make friends.

“Uh, yeah, we’re not going back there, Wynne. That’s a hard pass, but I will wait with you. Besides, what if that thing is still inside the store? I don’t want to be faceless.” Dead and faceless was not a good combination. “Surely your boss is more concerned with your health than the state of the store…” Though she almost wanted to snort at her own statement considering everything that happened at her job.

Mackenzie’s determined voice stating that they wouldn’t be going back to the store made Wynne feel a little more steady in their reluctancy to go back. “Alright, okay. We’re not going back.” They swallowed. “How did you get here? Walking or … car?” Maybe they could ask Arden to come pick them up, or maybe they’d ask Mack. “Okay, just hold on a second, okay?”

They moved a few feet away, tapping in the number of their boss and nibbling their finger nails as the tone rung. It was not easy to explain what had happened without sounding like someone who had lost their mind — especially considering the fact that Lauri seemed so oblivious about all that was going on. The conversation ended with Wynne settling on a different story, “No, you’re right, I must have seen something because it was dark and I was tired, it must have just been some random vandals.” Lauri confirmed that he was on his way and told Wynne to return home (probably on account of the fact that they’d started crying on the phone) and soon enough the conversation was over.

They blinked their eyes with frustration, wiping at them before turning back to Mack. They showed the other a thumbs up. “All good. He’s gonna check it out.” Wynne swallowed. “Thanks for waiting.”

Mackenzie wasn’t going to leave Wynne there alone, but it was like a weight had been lifted from the air when they said they weren’t going back. Good. They could leave soon. “I drove, so if you need a ride home, just let me know.” She was ready to go home, and she knew Wynne probably was too, especially considering it was closing time when she had arrived earlier. “Sure thing.”

While Mackenzie waited for Wynne to make their phone call, she had slowly approached the back of the coffee shop and could hear rustling going on along with silverware and dishes being shattered. Catching herself with a jolt of fear coursing through her dead body, she slowly backed up and went back over to Wynne, just in time as the phone call was wrapping up, “Yeah, no problem, but um we probably should go…” Her voice was more of a whisper at this point as she motioned with her head towards the shop.

She wasn’t sure if it was the same thing as earlier or something else, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out, “My car’s this way.” With one last look back, Mackenzie started to walk back around to the front, being sure to keep out of sight of the creature, if it was still inside. Her car was just a few stores down and then they would both be home free.

Frustration rippled through them for a moment, born from their lack of power in situations like these. Things kept happening to them and Wynne wasn’t sure how to get to a point where they could feel proactive. Not like a damned witness to all of it, blinking fearfully at all the danger and oddities this town had to offer. They shook their hands, as if the nerves would fall off their fingers like that.

There were more sounds coming from the shop and they wondered if they should head back anyway, to see what it was that was making all that noise. But Mackenzie was offering a ride. “Yeah, a ride, that’d be cool. I biked and …” They looked in the direction of the noise. “Well. I don’t know, a little risky.”

They followed Mack to her car, eyes flicking towards the shop. Wynne blinked once more, their tears now at least fully swallowed, and looked back at Mack. If anything, they were glad she was there. That this wasn’t a strange creature that they’d had to face alone. That she was kind enough to give a ride, too. As they got into the car, they offered a smile. “Thanks. I’ll um, get you a coffee sometime, okay? On me.” And that was not just out of gratitude but also because, maybe, they wanted Mack to be their friend.

#mack.#threads.#iced latte with crystals.

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phykios · 1 year

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Back Door Lover [read on ao3]

Cosmo says anal is the pumpkin spice latte of sex. Annabeth doesn't much like pumpkin spice. But she likes Percy. And she wants to try it all with him. [explicit]

Annabeth is standing in line at the grocery store when she sees it.

It’s probably also why she’d never thought about it before.

Annabeth Chase is not someone who grocery shops. As someone who actually grew up learning how to cook on a bare-bones budget, rather than relying on magical, physics-defying kitchens to provide all of your sustenance and then some, groceries are solidly Percy’s area of expertise. If there’s anyone who can stretch a coupon or save a cut of meat just on the cusp of going bad, it’s her Percy. Sure, sometimes she feels a little embarrassed at her lack of real-world, non-magical, homemaking skills, but Percy picks up literally all of the slack there, so it’s not an issue.

Until now.

Stuck in a language lab, Percy had tasked her with picking up some things they were running low on, staples like beans and potatoes and cheese. Her boyfriend had been thoughtful enough to give her a list, detailed down to the price point, and sent her off on her way. She had scoffed at his fussing–it’s just groceries, jeez Percy–but entering the strange, alien grocery store, with its vast labyrinth of produce and snacks and frozen foods, with so many different kinds of things her head starts to spin… Well, she’s just grateful he had included which brands to get.

Her small cart modestly full, she stops in the ice cream aisle. What’s the kind she likes again? The one with the blue carton? Fuck, she can never remember. It’s just not something she really thinks about. Whenever she’s sad, Percy hands her some ice cream in a bowl with a kiss on the cheek, and that’s the extent of her relationship with it.

She picks out a blue carton at random, rubbing her thumb against the ice crystals which form against the side. Ooh, olive oil and fig flavor. That sounds good.

Whatever, finals are coming up, there’s some extra money in the budget this month, and she’s going to need this. She tosses it in, rolling the cart onwards towards check-out, a skip in her step.

Annabeth is proud, weirdly enough. She’s done a good job. She stuck to the shopping list, vegetables and all. It’s a small victory, but a worthwhile one.

So she’s already in a good mood when she sees it.

She doesn’t recognize the lady on the cover of the magazine, dressed in a black negligee, pouting for the camera–her name is splashed across the page, but the letters are all jumbled up, and she doesn’t care enough to take the time to try and decipher it. That’s not what captures Annabeth’s attention, anyway; the headline is. For whatever reason, she has no trouble reading this one.

“5 Real Reasons Guys Want to Try Anal Sex.” With the utterly charming (read: dumb) tagline, “Your butt is the pumpkin spice latte of sex stuff.”

Annabeth snorts. Real appetizing.

And yet, she takes the magazine out of its stand. Flips through the glossy pages until she finds the relevant article.

The checkout line moves forward by one person. And Annabeth keeps reading. Look, she’s just taking advantage of the fact that her dyslexia isn’t fucking things up for the moment, okay?

“There’s a male obsession with the butt hole,” writes the author. “Here’s why guys are so into it.”

Annabeth frowns.

Percy’s never expressed any interest in her butt before. Is that bad? Is her butt not nice enough? Does he actually secretly really want to try anal sex, but he’s just never brought it up to her before?

She and Percy do plenty of sex stuff. There’s variety, spice, a little pizzazz in a relationship that was certainly not on the rocks, nor had fizzled out, but had just needed a little pinch of something. Something appealing to the two warriors and war-heroes.

And besides, it’s not like sparring hasn’t always been a form of foreplay for them.

So, as she is no longer laboring under a crisis of being too vanilla to live, she puts it out of her mind, and slides the magazine back in its place. Also, the author had been so slut-shamey. And he (she? Whatever) had not sold her on the concept of anal in any kind of enticing manner.

Watching the digital readout of the cash register as the numbers climb, she resists the urge to tap her foot. If Percy did his numbers right…

$49.45. Eleven dollars under budget. Her boyfriend might actually be a genius.

Of course, it’s only when she hops off the bus twenty minutes later that she realizes she forgot the avocados.

Crap.

***

Percy doesn’t take it too hard.

“Oh! Fuck! Ah!”

Fortunately, Annabeth can’t say the same.

He laughs, low and breathy, his teeth grazing at the edge of her ear.

Annabeth, in her infinite wisdom, has been running a series of covert experiments on her boyfriend. Nothing bad or mad scientist-y, mind you, and certainly nothing that would hurt or upset him. Just some academic curiosity. Simple as.

Her boyfriend eats fish. Now, to be fair, a lot of people do. But given that Percy can literally converse with all aquatic and marine life, she would have figured that he would have sworn off fish entirely. If Percy can claim a cyclops as a brother, befriend a giant, and be raised as Praetor after only thirty-six total hours among the infamously paranoid Romans, then making friends with sea creatures was probably second nature to him. In fact, she knows it is. And yet he still eats fish.

Did he ever think about it? If he did, did he like… care? Does he ever think about the fact that he is eating his father’s subjects?

It’s not like he prefers fish to burgers or anything. She’s almost afraid to bring it up. What if she accidentally causes an emotional breakdown because he never put two and two together?

Percy nips at her jugular, soothing the bright starburst of feeling with his tongue. Gathering up her legs in his arms, he pushes her up further against the bed, her pillow the only barrier between her head and headboard, and picks up his pace. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, yes. “There we go,” he murmurs, kissing her hungrily.

Right. Anyway. The point is, Annabeth is conducting an experiment: do different types of fish affect Percy’s mood? (And by mood, she of course means sexual mood.)

Swordfish made him aggressive. Shrimp just made him more hungry. Octopus made him handsy.

She liked the octopus days.

But, alas, octopus was expensive, so today was a swordfish day. Percy had cooked them some fabulous fish tacos (sans avocado, of course) and then, after doing the dishes, had proceeded to throw her against the door, pinning her body against the wood, bracketing her with hands and thighs.

Which, of course, led to this.

He growls, hands drifting down her thighs, and he grabs her ass, squeezing–hard.

Oh yeah.

Then, the magazine from earlier flickers in her mind’s eye, and she frowns.

Percy, with his finely-tuned Annabeth-senses, pauses, pulling back. “You good?”

How in the fuck–“Yeah,” she replies, her voice a half-gasp. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“You sure?”

She takes in the pretty picture above her–his nude form, lean muscles flexing, sweat plastering his dark hair to his forehead, his lips bruised from kisses–and she squeezes around him, her pussy throbbing as his eyes flutter close and he groans. “Pretty sure.”

His mouth is on hers in an instant, he plants his knees for better leverage–and he digs furrows into her with his fingers, his hands clenched firmly on her ass. Her butt. Her posterior. And so on.

It’s hard to frown while coming your brains out. Yet, when Percy rolls over, gently brushing her hair from her face, he is frowning, too. “What’s on your mind?” He says, his chest still heaving just a little bit, coming down from such great heights.

Sluggish, she takes a moment. Fish, avocados, magazines. Her butt. “Nothing.”

The slant of his mouth means he’s unconvinced, but he kisses her cheek in the way that means, I’ll drop it for now, but don’t think you’ve wiggled your way out of this one. “Mind if I take first shower?”

Annabeth waves a hand. Given that her legs are currently jello, she couldn’t have objected even if she wanted to.

The soft rain of the shower is hypnotic, lulling her into that lovely, hazy place she goes to sometimes after a particularly intense round of sex. It’s not sleep, exactly–too many residual shocks running up and down her body for it to be sleep, but just this sort of… mental calmness. Which is rare for her. Usually, thanks to her stupid battle instincts, she can’t get her mind to stop racing, so whenever she can get her thoughts to slow down, to consider them one at a time, or even not at all, she relishes it.

Eventually, she will have to get up and shower. Sweaty sheets are no fun to sleep in. But for now, she just lets herself float.

From out of the mental mist, a hand gently jostles her ankle. “No sleeping,” says the voice she loves so well.

“Not asleep,” she mumbles.

“Uh huh.”

Forcing her eyes open, she turns her head to the side. Percy, bone dry and smelling of sea salt and lavender, kisses her nose, before reaching over her, and swiping her bra from its place on the nightstand where it landed after being haphazardly tossed aside an hour or so ago. “Hi,” she says.

“Hi yourself. You need help?”

She shakes her head, pushing herself up on her elbows. “Just need another minute.”

She spends that minute observing her boyfriend’s naked form as he picks up the rest of their clothes, dumping them in the closet hamper, before grabbing himself a clean pair of boxers and shimmying them on.

They’re blue and have fish on them. And she’s about 75% sure they were a White Elephant gift at the Saturnalia party that Frank used all his battle tactics to make sure Percy took them home.

Percy thinks they're great. But Annabeth kind of wishes he’d skipped them.

It slips out before she realizes what she’s said. “Your butt is really nice.”

Percy stills, then turns his head, smirking at her over his shoulder. “What was that?”

Annabeth groans.

He sticks his butt back at her, giving it a shake–like a dog after jumping in the water. “Like what you see?”

“No.”

“Don’t deny it–you know you want a piece of this.” And he smacks his own ass. “Oh!” He moans, high and breathy–a perfect imitation of her. “Yes!”

Annabeth flings a pillow at him, laughing. “You’re such a fucking loser.”

If only she had known just how much butts would be on her mind in the coming days.

She cannot stop thinking about it. That stupid fucking magazine. Percy’s butt. Her own butt. She spends whole minutes in the bathroom, staring at herself in the mirror from every angle.

Her butt is not the work of art that Percy’s is. It does not look like it was cast in bronze then replicated in marble to be displayed in fine houses and coveted by philosophers who decided that it was the pinnacle of youthful male beauty. It’s smaller, and flatter, and it doesn’t stick out from her body very much, or at all, really. Is that good? Honestly, she has no clue. It’s not like Annabeth has had the time, or the will, to go and do research on butts. She has no idea what constitutes a good, desirable butt, over a bad one.

She loves Percy’s butt, but she wouldn’t necessarily claim it as her favorite of his body parts. He also has great shoulders, great abs, really nice calves, his beautiful chin, his…

Anyway.

Of her body parts, she knows he likes her legs. A lot. Like, a lot a lot, if the occasional dark finger mark on her thigh has anything to say about it. And he likes her hair. He likes to play with it, likes to pull her curls, he even likes braiding her hair when she’s hours deep in a design and can’t spare a few minutes to do it herself.

But does he like her butt?

Or her boobs, for that matter. She knows they’re small. At camp, that was a benefit–armor fits so much better when you have a smaller chest, as the Aphrodite girls, as well as Clarisse, could attest. But what about the real world?

Her girlfriends at Berkeley assure her that it’s not a problem. Percy’s never said anything to even imply otherwise.

And yet.

It sticks in her head, consumes a good part of her waking moments. (Which could be better spent on schoolwork, or date nights, or that one weird quest she had to do for Pomona, of all gods. Who the hell is Pomona?)

It comes to a head one night, during a mutual homework-and-despair-over-the-kitchen-table session. Percy is struggling his way through a book, and Annabeth is struggling her way through building some kind of fucking cube based entirely on drawings. Gods, she wishes she had her old laptop. It could have blasted through this homework set no problem. Sure, that’s probably technically cheating, but what’s a little academic dishonesty here and there?

Across the table, Percy groans. “Why did I let your dad talk me into majoring in classics?”

“You love it, don’t lie,” she says, furiously erasing an errant line.

“This isn’t even classics!” he whines. “I have to read Heinrich Schliemann’s diary.”

She lifts her head, squinting at him. “Who?”

“He’s an archaeologist who blew up half of the Trojan ruins.”

Wrinkling her nose, she snorts. “Shit archaeologist.”

“No kidding.” Percy stands, stretching a little bit. His shirt rides up, flashing a strip of tummy at her. “I’m gonna get some more water. Need anything? Hello? Earth to Annabeth?”

“Hm?” She blinks.

Percy is waving his hand in front of her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Annabeth.”

“Yeah?”

“What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” she half scoffs. “Why? I’m fine.”

His mouth twists. “You’ve been kind of spacey all night.”

“As opposed to other nights?” It kind of comes with the ADHD territory. He, of all people, should get it.

“Well, yeah.” He wanders off, pulling out a couple of glasses from the cabinet. “Usually when you space out, you’re still thinking–you tap your pencil against your paper, or doodle structural joints. But tonight, I’ve barely heard a peep from you.”

…Who even notices that about people? “Why do you know that about me?”

She can feel his smirk, even from across the kitchen. “Because I love you.”

Part of her wants to preen. Another part of her wants to shrivel up and die a little. The first part wins out–barely.

“So,” Percy says, setting a glass of water in front of her. He leans on his hand, the other one on his hip. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

She takes it, and drinks, gratefully. There’s no need to rush; she knows he will wait for her. Percy gazes down at her, his eyes crinkled in a delightful blend of concern and fondness. Mostly fondness. Gods, she loves him so much. It would be embarrassing if she didn’t know that it was equally returned. There’s something beautiful about that, in this moment, the two of them in this little bubble of home, just existing together. Inquiries that don’t need answers. Oddness that requires no real justification. Only reassurance that things are mostly okay. Space to breathe. To lay things bare, no matter how strange. Percy will understand.

Raising her eyes to him, she smiles, and asks the question bubbling up from deep inside her subconscious: “Have you ever wanted to try anal sex?”

“Wh–” He gapes, and his hand slips, nearly cracking his head on the table. “Uh, wh–what? Huh?” he stammers, picking himself back up.

“Anal sex.” She picks up her pencil, twirling it for lack of anything else to do with her hands. “What do you think about it?”

Blinking at her, he works his jaw before squeezing out, “...Like, in concept?”

“Yeah.”

“As in, something for us to try?”

“Yeah.” The pencil dances across her fingers. “Are you interested?”

“...I guess?” Percy squeaks, then he clears his throat. “Yeah. I mean. Sure.”

“That wasn’t very convincing.”

“Well, I’m not very convinced yet.”

“Oh.” She frowns, going for another sip to hide it.

“Hey–come on, not like that.” Percy pulls his chair around the corner of the table, taking her hand as he sits down. “It’s not a ‘no.’ Just… Can I ask where this is coming from?”

Shrugging, she chooses to look at their joined hands, suddenly fascinated with the way that her skin shifts as he rubs his thumb across hers. “I dunno,” she mumbles. “Just thought it sounded interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Yeah.” Flicking her eyes up, they land on that little furrow between his brows that she loves so deeply. “Fun, even.”

“For you or for me?”

What a weird question. “For us, seaweed brain.”

He would get to have butt sex, which apparently guys are totally into, and she would get some reassurance that her butt was good enough to have sex with. Win win.

Percy looks at her, his beautiful green eyes searching back and forth. It’s stupid, but sometimes they really are like whirlpools, and she really can get lost in them. Not that she would ever say that out loud. That would be too embarrassing, even for her.

Then, releasing a breath through his nose, he squeezes her hand again, and knocks his foot against hers. “Okay.”

She perks up. “Okay?”

“Okay. But, uh–” Guiltily, he casts a glance back to his laptop. “I kinda have to finish this reading tonight, so…”

“Oh!” She laughs. “Gods, no, not tonight. I’m going to be up all night with this stupid problem set.”

He chuckles in return, but a little shakily, like he does whenever he barely misses a swipe of her knife during sparring practice. “Rain check, then?”

“Definitely.” She leans over and kisses his cheek, immensely gratified by the light flush that comes over his face.

Oh, this was going to be so much fun!

Butt sex day ends up being pushed back a few times. First, it was the fact that her problem set ended up plaguing her through the end of the weekend. Then, Sofia had invited her to a girls’ night out in the city, and she was far too hungover to even consider having sex. And then Percy caught a cold.

She doesn’t forget about it, though. Every so often it will pop up, distracting her from a sketch or prompting a sudden round of phone research on the toilet, and every time she always remembers that, oh yeah, this is a thing she wants to do. But between homework, social engagements, illness, and Percy suddenly being voluntold to lead a Legion training exercise out in the middle of nowhere for a week and a half–without her, she might add, which was fantastically rude, and was apparently due to something about the Second Cohort’s sour grapes about last time, which was dumb, because it wasn’t her fault that the Centurion cried after she kicked his ass up and down the field–thoughts of anal sex keep falling to the wayside.

Like today, as she comes back from class, holding the mail. Nestled within their mailbox, amongst the letters, had been a small, thin, white package–not an Amazon box, which usually shows up within hours of placing an order, courtesy of one Hylla, but something else. She doesn’t remember ordering anything, so it’s probably for her other half. “Percy!” She calls as she enters the apartment, kicking the door closed with her foot. “Package for you!”

Percy, nearly wedged into their couch, his legs kicked up and holding a PS4 controller with his eyes trained on their little TV, frowns. The console had been a donation from one of her step-brothers, who had decided that he preferred building computers himself rather than buying them outright. “What package?”

“Uh…” Annabeth squints at the label, the tiny letters blurring into squiggly lines. Honestly, she hadn’t even looked. “A… Adam…”

“Oh!” Her boyfriend practically somersaults over the couch, controller still in hand, and swipes it from her. “That package!”

“What is it?”

Percy blinks at her. Behind him, the little guy on the screen gets a faceful of laser gun, and dies, with a sad whine. “It’s–uh–gym stuff.”

“Gym stuff?”

He nods. “Yeah. Frank and I are–we were thinking about starting a weight lifting program in the next couple of weeks. So I got some gloves.” Gently jostling the box, he flashes a strained grin. “For the weights.”

You know, weights are probably not a bad idea for her, either. Jogging with her ankle gets a little bit harder every day, and the idea of building some more visible muscle is pretty appealing. Maybe they could do weights together! “Cool,” she says, already turning her attention back to the rest of the mail. She’s learning to recognize junk by the feel of the glossy plastic, but paper envelopes still frustrate her. “Let me know how it goes.”

Date night gets pushed back a few times, too. You’d think that two people who live together would manage to carve out some time to spend it together, but nope. At least during midterms, anyway.

But finally, after two grueling weeks, midterms are done, New Rome obligations are fulfilled, and Percy and Annabeth have the whole weekend to themselves. They celebrate with a wonderful home cooked meal of pastichio, a light salad with vegetables that Annabeth chopped herself, and earlier she had caught a glimpse of something round and chocolatey, covered in plastic wrap and chilling in the fridge, so she’s just about vibrating as Percy finishes up the dishes. “So,” she starts, tapping her heel against the floor, “when do I get to see what you’ve been slaving away over all day?”

She knows he heard her. Still, he takes his time before responding, carefully wiping each dish before slotting it neatly in the drying rack. It’s maddening. It’s infuriating. It’s kind of making her hot.

Eventually, he finishes, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Needs to set for another hour, maybe.”

“Aw, come on.”

Her disappointment is assuaged somewhat as he strides over to her, takes her head in his hand, and leans down for a kiss, his tongue swiping over her lips. “Can’t rush perfection.”

Well, how is she supposed to argue with that? “Fine,” she pouts, not really that bothered.

“Besides,” he says, his voice dropping in that way that makes her want to curl up into a ball at his feet. “I have a couple ideas for how to pass the time.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhmm.” He brushes a curl from her face, his eyes lidded and dark. “If you’re interested.”

Sitting up straighter, she reaches up to entwine his fingers with hers. “I could be.”

There’s a brief pause, something almost imperceptible flickering across his face, before he relaxes. Not a bad something almost imperceptible, but just… unidentifiable. If she didn’t know Percy as well as she does, she might never have noticed it.

“Do you remember,” he starts, his voice low and warm, “that thing you wanted to try?”

Does he mean… “Yeah?”

“I was thinking…” His hand drifts towards the back of her head, fingers sliding into her hair like he knows she loves. “Maybe we could try it out tonight?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, more of a moan than she had meant it to be, and he smirks at the sound. Dammit. She’s so gone for this boy it’s stupid. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

It’s happening! It’s finally happening!

He smiles crookedly, stirring up her heart. “Mind if I take a quick shower? I’m just a little sweaty from all that cooking.”

Pity. She likes his sweat smell. Call her gross, she doesn’t care. “Sure.”

“Great.” He kisses her forehead. “Back in a bit.”

And with one final soft caress (that she does not lean into. Come on. She has some standards) he goes off to the bathroom. Tipping her head back onto the chair, she closes her eyes, not even attempting to staunch the smile that stretches across her face.

It’s not that she’s been absolutely dying to try anal sex. Well, she has, but it’s more–the butterflies in her stomach, they’re not about anything specific. They’re simply for the sweet, heady thrill of new experiences with the love of her life. And she adores this feeling. Whether it’s walking hand-in-hand in Paris, fighting a catoblepas in Disneyland during “It’s A Small World,” or merely moving into an apartment across the country with him, it sets her blood singing, every single time. Life as a demigod is one adventure after another, but now they get to be fun adventures, instead of deadly ones. They get to be the adventures of living, and of living well.

And yeah, also she’s really excited about the adventures of sex. Her boyfriend is hot as Helios and she loves having sex with him. She wants it all, every experience, not because she feels like she’s missing out on anything, but because she gets to do it all with Percy. With her seaweed brain.

Gods, she loves him so much!

Unable to contain herself, and because Percy’s short showers can range anywhere from two minutes to half an hour if he really feels like, she practically springs up from her chair, nearly skipping to the bedroom.

Maybe she should shower, too. Or at least, uh… do some last minute cleaning down there. Though, she hasn’t had Taco Bell for a while, so that’s something. But, like, a few extra wipes probably wouldn’t hurt.

The shower is in full swing as she enters the bedroom, though it seems quieter than it usually is. “Percy?” she calls, stripping off her shirt, tossing it towards the laundry hamper. “You in there?”

Nothing.

She frowns. Stepping up to the bathroom door, she knocks. “Percy?”

A beat, then finally, muffled over the roar of water–“Yeah?” he replies. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say his voice was strained.

“You mind if I use the toilet really fast?”

“...Sure!”

In short order, she completes her business (doing a few extra strokes for good measure) then retreats back to the bedroom, her shorts joining their compatriots on the floor, and realizes–the reason it sounded so quiet was because Percy hadn’t been singing along. He’s a full on shower singer, regularly treating Annabeth to the greatest hits of the seventies and eighties. She’s caught him full on belting plenty of times, crooning into the shampoo bottle microphone with zero shame.

But instead of power ballads, tonight there was nothing. Not even a hum. She thinks maybe she heard a tiny whimper, though that might have just been the loose toilet seat squeaking as she sat down.

Whatever. Not important. What is important is getting herself ready. Down to her underwear, she hops onto the bed, scooching herself back against the center of the headboard, and straightens her back. Her legs fall open in front of her in what she hopes is an inviting V, and she folds her arms behind her head, the movement pushing her chest out, making it look like she has something going on up there. Tossing her hair from her face, she smiles, and settles into the pose, waiting for Percy to come out and see her.

Thirty seconds pass. She twitches her toes. A minute or so later, her arms are starting to tire.

Damn, maybe she should start joining Percy and Frank at the gym.

When her butt starts to go numb–can’t have that, that’s the main attraction–she decides a new pose is in order. She chooses to flop on her stomach instead, facing the bathroom door, and resting her head on her arms. That way, her butt will be front and center.

Another minute passes. Maybe more. Still no Percy.

Huffing, she turns over onto her back.

What’s the hold up? He hadn’t smelled that bad at dinner.

Finally, she hears the water shut off. Finally!

She manages to roll back onto her front just as Percy comes out of the bathroom. He’s let himself stay a little bit wet, which she likes very much, little drops of water dragging down the length of his body and onto the lip of the towel around his waist, blazing trails for her fingers to follow in just a moment. He smirks down at her, mouth slanted, eyes dark. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You look comfortable.”

“You look clean.”

“As a whistle.” He unwraps the towel, slowly enough to be deliberate, and carefully hangs it on the bathroom door.

Before she can make some stupid joke about whistles and how well she can blow them, Percy hops up onto the bed with her, sweeping her up into a kiss. It’s neither blistering nor hungry, but sweet, even as his hands automatically slide down her back to her bra. That’s okay, though. She wants to really be in the moment for this–at least for right now. She’d rather not be melted into a puddle of sexy goo until a little bit later.

His fingers chase the straps down her shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and it takes her a second to remember that she has to actually let go of Percy if she wants it gone. She grumbles, and he laughs back, slipping it off her in one smooth motion. He’s honestly better at taking off her bra than she is. He’s certainly got his ten thousand hours in at it.

When he brushes a thumb over her nipple, she decides she does not care even a little bit.

She does think about complaining when he doesn’t stay there and give her tits some more attention, like they deserve, but she chokes it back as he slides his fingers beneath the hem of her plain, gray, cotton underwear. Shit, should she have put on some sexier panties or something? It is a special occasion after all. Percy, though, doesn’t seem to mind, if the glint in his eyes is any indication as he slowly peels them off her hips. He swallows, loudly enough that she can hear it, then ducks down to kiss her belly, smiling at her little gasp, her little jump. “Can I?” he asks, voice thick, ghosting his thumb over the pubis. “Before we… uh, continue?”

“Only if I get to join in,” she replies, dragging her hand down the length of his side. He shudders as she passes over ridge and valley, tracing the map of his body, her fingertips skimming over the dark thatch of hair over his cock.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Okay.”

And she smirks as she wraps her fingers around him, watching the long line of him shake, the dip of his head as he sucks in a breath, before he responds in kind. A true master of his craft, he wastes no time in parting her labia, stroking just above her clit. He knows that she likes a warm up–going straight for the pleasure button does nothing for her. She needs a prologue before the rising action, a set up before the climax. As it were.

For several minutes, they don’t–can’t–speak, the only sounds in the room their heavy breathing, in harmony with the slick slide of skin on skin. Somehow they’ve managed to remain relatively upright, Annabeth balancing herself on one arm, though Percy looks as though he might collapse on top of her at any moment, especially when she catches her nail on the underside of his cock. And wouldn’t that be nice. He hisses, biting back a curse, but Annabeth can’t dwell on her victory for too long. Parry and riposte, he moves his hand, slipping his fingers inside of her, and she drops her head, unable to hold back a moan. He leans in closer, mouth beneath her jaw, less of a kiss and more just his lips under her ear, open-mouthed and panting as she squeezes him.

“Fuck…” He groans against her neck, the sound vibrating through her body. “Can–can you–?”

She reaches forward to cup his balls, and he nearly does collapse, a guttural noise punching out of his chest. He almost lunges towards her, planting his mouth on hers, and she welcomes it, lips on lips and sloppy tongue against sloppy tongue as he crooks his fingers inside of her pussy. The feeling builds like a wave, rising from deep within, picking up speed as it starts to race to shore–

Wait, wait–“Wait, Per–” He kisses her again, deep and ravenous, and had she not been sitting down, her legs might actually have given out at it. Woof. Weakly, she pushes against his pelvis, turning her head so Percy couldn’t swallow her words. “Hold on.”

Percy pulls back, concern breaking through the fog of lust. “What is it?”

“Just–give me a second,” she pants.

Can’t end the party too soon. Not that Annabeth wouldn’t be up for round two if need be, but she doesn’t want to come right now. Not yet.

Not before the fun really begins.

“Slower?” he guesses, and she can just barely nod.

“Please.”

True to his word, he pumps the brakes. His fingers are still inside her, but instead of thrusting, he goes for more of an internal massage, his fingertips gently, but firmly pressing up against her walls, making little soothing circles. It’s a different build, less like a tsunami, and more like the inner chamber of a volcano, a slow, churning boil that sends warmth through her whole body, tips to toes. She trembles, her arm nearly buckling.

Before she falls, though, he sweeps his arm around her, pulling her close to him, chest to chest. The movement jostles his fingers, and his hard cock bumps against her thigh, her hand trapped between them both, but from their communal hisses of pleasure, it is certainly not a problem. It’s her turn to kiss his neck, now, her teeth scraping over the taut line of his jugular, and he actually whines, a high pitched squeak matched by her own as she starts to ride his fingers.

“Okay,” she gasps. “Okay.”

They pull back as one, gazing into each other’s eyes. Wide and wine-dark, his gaze burns through her, feverish, grasping, hungry, before he cools somewhat, returning to himself. “You ready?” he asks, voice rough.

Annabeth nods.

“Say it.”

“Yes.” She kisses his stupid perfect slanted mouth for good measure. “Yes, I’m ready.”

For all of it. For everything. As long as they’re together.

And then Percy flops onto the bed, right onto his back. He looks up at her, his gaze waiting and expectant.

…Okay. Is this how they’re doing it?

She follows suit, stretching out next to the right of him.

For a few seconds, they lie next to each other, shoulder to shoulder. She holds his eyes, tracking the changes as they grow ever so slightly confused. Looking to her for the cue.

Is she supposed to do something?

“Um.” His ears pinken, little dusts of rose. “Are you gonna…?”

“Oh!” Duh! Probably hard to get at her ass from this position.

She rolls over, lying on her front, head kind of awkwardly smushed into the mattress as she turns it to look back at him. Hopefully they’ll adjust the positioning before the actual act.

But he does not, as she would have preferred, leap upon her to ravish her.

Instead, he sits up, frowning at her in confusion. “What are you doing?”

She braces herself up on her elbows. “Getting into position?”

If anything, that makes him more confused. “Huh?”

“What do you mean, ‘Huh’?”

“Where’s your…” She sees it on his face as some sort of realization begins to dawn. “Wait. Annabeth.”

“What?”

“Who do you think is fucking who?”

…What? “Percy. You’re fucking me.”

“Am I?”

“Aren’t you?”

“So… you don’t want to peg me?”

Her head is spinning. “What?”

“Annabeth,” he says, doing his best to hold back his laughter, but she can see it bubbling up under the surface, “when you said–when you said you wanted to try anal, I thought you meant on me.”

Her own laugh bursts out of her without any warning. “Oh my gods!”

The laughter ripples through them, feeding on each other until they are both doubled over on the bed, nearly folded in two. Percy clutches his stomach, collapsing back onto the bed, and Annabeth can feel tears in her eyes.

“No,” she gets out, laughter making her voice shake, “no, I meant on me.”

“Yeah,” Percy giggles, “I got that. Eventually.”

“You thought I wanted to peg you!”

“Can you blame me?” He rolls over, bumping into her and kissing her shoulder. “You were suddenly all like, ‘Oh, Percy, your butt is sooooooo sexy–’”

She laughs again, even as she gives him a gentle knee in the side. “Shut up.”

“Tell me how much you love my ass.”

“No.”

“Tell me!”

“No!”

She tries to roll away, but Percy pulls her on top of him anyway, wrapping his arms around her. Delightfully, she can feel that he hasn’t lost any of his hardness. “Tell meeeeeee!”

“In your dreams, seaweed brain!”

His arms squeeze around her, tighter. “Tell me, or I won’t let you up.”

She shivers. “That is not the persuasive technique you think it is, babe.” She snuggles down into the crook of his neck and shoulder, making sure to wiggle her whole body so he can feel every single inch of it.

But he only squeezes her one more time before releasing her. She feels the loss acutely, even though she is still laying on top of him. “So, now what?”

“What does that mean?” Annabeth asks, not moving from her Percy pillow.

“Do you want to leave this alone for a bit?”

She pulls back, frowning. “What does that mean?”

Soothingly, he strokes a hand down her side. “I mean, take another rain check, maybe.”

“No,” she shakes her head. With their luck, their next date night wouldn’t be until after finals. And then they’d probably get interrupted by some useless bullshit quest, anyway. “I’m still game if you are.”

Gods, she hopes he still is. He certainly feels like it. But what if he actually wanted her to peg him? Did she accidentally ruin the mood?

The hand that was stroking her side moves lower, gliding over her hip.

“How about,” he says, pitching his voice down a touch, and on top of him like this, she can really feel it vibrating through his broad, firm chest, “you tell me exactly what you want. So there’s no more…” Grinning up at her, he scrapes his nails across her skin, and she shudders. “Misunderstandings.”

She would reply, except suddenly she can’t really think beyond the feeling of his fingers on her, creeping up along the swell of her ass. “Uh…”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Uh?”

“Um.”

“Um?” he gently mocks. And then, he presses down. Annabeth clenches, automatic. “Not quite sure what to do with ‘uh’ or ‘um.’” He does it again, turning up the pressure. “Looking for specifics here.”

“I–”

But before she can get out her sentence, Percy has moved from a simple press to a full-on grab; he takes one cheek in his hand, and squeezes, hard, so sudden that she actually squeaks.

“Percy–”

“Mmhmm?”

“I–”

He squeezes her ass again, smirking. “What was that?”

Fucking prick! “I want you to do anal sex on me!”

His lips twitch like he’s about to start laughing again. “You want me to do what?”

Face flushing, she buries her head back in his shoulder. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Yeah, I think I am.”

Ugh, why is she in love with him again? “I want you,” she mumbles into his skin, “to fuck me in the ass.”

“Sorry, didn’t catch that?”

If he drags this out one more minute, she might actually explode. “Please,” she says, lifting her head to him. “Please fuck my ass, Percy. I want it.”

His playful facade falters, before falling away entirely–eyes widening, pupils dilating, pink mouth hanging open, he gulps, audibly.

Was the please too much?

“Okay,” he wheezes. “Yeah.”

Instead of turning her over and proceeding with the ravishing, though, he catapults upwards, almost throwing her off him.

“Drawer,” he rasps.

“What?”

“Condoms. Lube.” He flails his arm somewhere to the left. “Let me–get them.”

“Oh,” she pouts. She was under the impression that they had kind of graduated out of condoms. It’s not like they were going to be bumping uglies with anyone else. And, embarrassingly enough, she happens to really like the feel of him bare inside of her–probably more than he does. Whatever. She’s not weird.

Percy pecks the smile off her mouth, before sliding out from under her. “Safety first.”

“Fine,” she sighs, a touch dramatic. “Just make it quick.”

“Trust me,” he says, clambering over to their bedside drawer, “I don’t want to draw it out any longer than you do.”

She turns on her side, all the better to shamelessly ogle him as he struggles to balance on the bed with one hand shoved inside the drawer. He really does have a great ass. “I’m holding you to that.”

“Aha!” Triumphantly, he holds his prizes aloft, and turns back, grinning. “And to think you doubted me.”

Annabeth could never. Not in a million, billion years. Not if Olympus crumbled or the World Tree went up in smoke.

Not that she’d ever admit it. Well–that’s not entirely true. She would admit it, and happily. She’s pretty sure Percy already knows, anyway. It’s just probably something she should save for later. Like their wedding, maybe, instead of the first time they try anal sex. “So,” she says instead. “How are we doing this?”

The “how” ends up being her on her front, with a pillow propped up under her hips. She has another pillow for her head, which is currently resting on her crossed arms. It’s a smidge uncomfortable, but it’s worth it for being able to look at Percy as he lies next to her, stretched out on his side. It’s doubly worth it when she doesn’t really have to move for him to be able to lean in and kiss her.

Percy slides his hand down the length of her spine, and against her mouth, he whispers, “Are you ready?”

She breathes in, holding for a moment, then releases, sinking further into the pillows as the tension leeches out of her body. “Yeah.”

“Okay.” His hand disappears, and she would mourn the loss of it, were it not for the warmth of his body, so close to hers, or the little puff of air over her shoulder. She hears a faint click, then a squelch, then he leans into her again, whispering into her ear, “This might be cold.”

The lube is cold, but she valiantly holds in her squeak.

And as his fingers drift south, she has a sudden, terrifying moment of clarity.

Oh gods, he’s going to put his fingers in her ass!

Will they fit? Will it hurt? Is she clean enough down there?!

“Relax,” he murmurs, low and soft and safe. “I’ve got you.”

At some point she will have to do a genealogical check on Percy to make sure he doesn’t secretly have an Aphrodite in him, because she softens instantly. His words are like a blanket, covering her in warmth, calming every insecurity she has. His voice is a shield, protecting her all her vulnerabilities, warding off all her fears.

He dips a finger between her cheeks. It’s cold. But it’s warm, too. Like the great campfire on a winter evening.

Then he…

He presses it down, gently, just on the rim of–of her asshole.

It’s… odd. Not bad, just… odd.

Percy, not sensing any reticence from her, presses down again, with two fingers this time. Like he does with her clit, he massages a gentle circle on the skin. And just like he does with her clit, his fingers leave sparks in their wake, little trails of fire that sink beneath the skin and travel straight to the core of her, throbbing at the warmth of it.

“Doing okay?” he asks, ever the gentleman.

She nods, turning her face into the pillow, not quite willing to trust her voice yet.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m going to put it in now, alright?”

She can only nod again.

She can’t help it–she tenses up as she feels the tip of his finger at her back entrance. Wet and cold, if she felt it on her leg, she might have thought that Percy was pranking her with some seaweed. She’s about to tell Percy that she takes it back, that this was a dumb idea, that she really didn’t know why she was obsessing over such a silly thing–

His finger breaches the hole, and she gasps.

“Annabeth?” He probes (heh), the gentleness of his voice not quite strong enough to cover his worry. “Are you okay? Does it hurt? Talk to me–”

“More,” she moans.

Dutifully, he pushes in further.

Annabeth has had plenty of experience with penetration. She figured, vaginal or anal, how different could they really be?

Never has she been so happy to be so wrong.

Her first semi-coherent thought is: oh, he feels so big and it’s only a finger. Even just the tip of it feels enormous, stretching her to the very edge of her limits. The second is: yeah, there’s a little bit of pain. But not in a bad way, oh no–it’s the bright starburst of sensation like when she itches a mosquito bite, or worries at a scar that hasn’t quite healed, the brief, sharp pain making the relief just that much sweeter. Every touch sends sparks skittering up and down her spine, electricity pulsing even down her legs, and every breath she takes only strengthens the feelings, a feedback loop of unbearable intensity.

It only gets worse (better?) as Percy announces that he’s going to add a second finger. By the third, it takes her a moment or so to realize that the high, strained, keening sound is coming from her.

Then he shifts beside her, and the angle of his fingers change, and–”Oh, fuck!”

Percy kisses the base of her neck, nose in her hair, panting in her ear. “Is that good?” He growls. Gently, maybe even subconsciously, she can feel his dick as it thrusts against her, leaving sticky trails on her hip. “Do you like that?”

“I–oh–” She pushes her hips back into his hand, the silk pillowcase beneath her sliding perfectly against her clit. If her eyes weren’t squeezed shut, they’d be popping out of her skull. “Fuck… me…”

His smirk burns against her skin. “I am fucking you,” he says, punctuated with a particularly delightful thrust of fingers that feels, somehow, mirrored in her pussy. She clenches around the phantom feelings of fingers in her cunt, and delightfully, around the very real fingers in her ass.

She needs him. She needs all of him. Right the fuck now.

Shimmying an arm out from under her, she sloppily grabs the back of Percy’s neck, pulling him closer. He’s sweating, face and neck flushed, his eyes nearly black from lust, and there’s a little bit of drool at the corner of his mouth.

“Percy. Please.” She’s far, far too gone to be embarrassed at being reduced to begging. “I need you.”

“I’m here.” His kiss is searing, his tongue fire against hers. “I’m here.”

But she shakes her head. “No, I need–I need you, inside of me.”

She can see that stupid fucking smirk curling up his face, and she surges up, grabbing him in another blazing kiss before the sight of it can make her come all over his fingers. He returns it, just as he always does, with equal passion, equal frenzy, equal rapture. Equal love.

“You,” she breathes, her forehead against his, “are going to fuck my ass. Properly. Or I swear to all the gods–”

As he chuckles, his chest pressed against hers, the vibrations traveling directly to her cunt, she wonders if maybe she should have let him smirk instead.

He kisses her, once, twice, three times. “Your wish is my command,” he murmurs.

But again, he doesn’t throw her down and ravish her. He spins her around, with one hand pulling her so her back is flush with his chest, and with the other (plus a little help from his leg) kicking her posture pillows out of the way. Peppering her shoulder with kisses, he lays them down so they’re spooning, and Annabeth’s initial disappointment swiftly dissipates, dissolving at the feel of him so, so close. Her head rests against his arm, his lips are fastened to the side of her neck, their legs are intertwined, and every deep, heaving breath only serves to press him further against her, skin searing with contact.

It’s heady. It’s intoxicating. It’s the perfect angle for her to rub her ass against his cock, and to feel his shaking frame as he groans, wet breath beneath her ear. “Fuck,” he mumbles. “Condom?”

“Huh?”

His right arm stretches over her, but can’t quite reach the little foil packet he had retrieved earlier. “Can you–fuck,” he hisses, grasping her hip to keep her from moving again. “Can you grab it?”

It speaks to their experience with tangled limbs that she’s able to snatch up the condom, tear open the wrapper, and pass its contents back to Percy in just a few seconds, despite not having used one in a while. They should try and see if they can do it even faster. You know, for science.

He retreats from her for just a moment, hand bumping against her as he fumbles the condom on. Can he feel her heartbeat picking up speed, her breath hitching in delight and anticipation?

“Okay,” he slurs against her shoulder. “Okay, I’m–just give me…”

And there, finally, blessedly, there is the press of his cock, lighting her on fire from within.

He moves into her, hot and heavy and so much bigger than she’s used to, pushing the air out of her mouth in a ragged, broken moan. He’s so deep, and he’s only burrowing in deeper, helped along by her tight, tight hole. Face red, she clumsily throws her arm back, grasping for something to hold–and, catching his hair, grabs on for dear life.

She doesn’t think she’s ever felt this close to him. Not even during their first time. She is engulfing him, consuming him, and being consumed in return. She is held, surrounded, encompassed, overflowing.

No wonder Alexander loved this. No wonder Achilles died for this.

She had never felt so beloved.

And then, he pulls back, and she gets to experience the beautifully luxurious feeling of being slowly pulled apart from the inside out.

Back and forth, every thrust stokes the fire, the hot, bubbling pit of pleasure quickly rising in her: stomach, breasts, neck, cheeks, temples. Behind her, she can feel his wet breath against the knob of her spine, can hear the sweet little groans she’s not even sure he knows he’s making. He might not be able to hear them over her own, though.

“Percy,” she whines, and she would do it herself, but if she lets go of him now, she might float away into nothingness, “can you–would you–”

“Anything.” He nips her ear, tongue laving over the pinpoint prick of that wonderful hurt. “Anything.”

“Touch me–Percy, I need–”

That he doesn’t make her say it out loud is only proof that he’s as far gone as she is. Releasing its death grip on her hip, he moves his hand between her legs, making a beeline for her clit, and she screams. There is no other word for it. He plays her like a symphony, works her like his sword, presses and rubs and squeezes her clit, pushing her higher and higher and higher. The cliff is in sight. Moments away.

With some difficulty, she turns her head, looking at Percy through lidded eyes and fluttering lashes. Perfectly attuned to her every move, his eyes flick to hers, burning a hole through her beneath furrowed brows. “Kiss me,” she slurs.

He stretches his neck to her, capturing her lips with his, gasping and hungry. His mouth is sweeter than any ambrosia. More honeyed than any nectar.

She falls–but as always, they fall together.

With a final squeeze, she breaks apart, her orgasm ripping through her, with all the violence and intensity of a great wave, crashing on shore. It covers her, subsumes her, steals her breath away. Or maybe that’s Percy, crushing her to his chest, so close she can feel the force of his pounding heartbeat, strong and thudding, imprinting itself on her very bones. Her very soul. Their two bodies, knitted together in this one perfect, divine moment.

If she never opens her eyes again, maybe she can make this moment last forever.

Unfortunately, though, it doesn’t. It could have been hours, days, even an eternity later, but in Annabeth’s opinion, Percy pulls away from her far too soon–and she makes her objection known, whining as he removes himself from her person. He kisses her shoulder in apology. “Sorry.” His voice is as demolished as a ruin, rough and rocky, heavy with emotion. “Back in a second.”

In the absence of his embrace, eyes still shut, she stretches herself out, savoring the sore muscles that throb and ache, faint afterimages of pleasure. She can already tell she’ll feel this deeply in the morning. She certainly hopes so, anyway.

“Scooch up,” says Percy, somewhere to her right. “I need to grab the blanket.”

She would, if she felt like moving were possible at the moment.

“I mean, I guess you can stay if you want to sit in a puddle of lube…”

Wordlessly, she rolls over, and he presses his chuckle to her back.

A thought occurs to her. The lube, the condoms, the position, the clean-up–Percy had been surprisingly prepared for this. Not to mention the actual act itself. Did he do research? Bracing herself on her elbows, she squints up at Percy, haloed by the overhead light. “Where on Earth did you learn how to do that?”

“Research,” he says matter-of-factly, but his attitude is betrayed by the light flush on his cheeks. “And, um, practice.”

Her momentary fantasy of Percy-the-researcher is shattered as her eyes snap open. Practice?! “On who?”

His flush deepens. “...Myself.”

“Your–oh.” In her mind’s eye, the clarity of Percy-the-researcher is suddenly replaced with a hazy, foggy image of Percy-the-strategist, acting out his plan on himself before he tries it on her, his fingers in his own…

Did he blush then like he is now, sweet and pink and lightly self-conscious? Did he like it as much as she did? Given his general hesitation and worry, maybe not. Which was fine. More for her. And she wanted so much more.

But the idea of his fingers, breaching his body like they did her’s with so much skill…

Her own face burning, she drops her head back down into the (lube-free) sheets. “Can you get me some water, please?”

“Sure,” he says, voice just a tiny bit hoarse. “Anything else?”

“And the lights.” She can feel a small headache coming on, and she would like to enjoy the afterglow as much as possible. The bright, sunny ceiling light, for all the good it does in making sure she actually gets out of bed in the morning, will not help her right now.

She can almost feel the weight lifted as he flicks off the light, and she breathes a sigh of relief. “Don’t forget to wash up,” he says, planting another kiss on her hair.

In response, she grumbles, muffled by the sheets.

“Uh uh, wise girl, no whining. You want another yeast infection?”

Dang it. Why does he have to be right so often?

With a heroic effort that should have been sung about in the ancient tragedies, Annabeth manages to clamber out of bed, unsteadily making her way to the bathroom, muscles screaming in protest. She will admit to being wholly unprepared for the feeling of having her guts rearranged. It’s a lot, sure, but it’s no worse than a good fight with Frank or Clarisse. She can sit down just fine, relieve herself like normal. The cool porcelain is a balm to her flushed, sweaty skin. And she doesn’t spot any red in the post-gentle-wipe toilet paper inspection, which is always good. Between the choice of wiping up tacky lube from her thighs, or wiping up come, though, she thinks she prefers the come. Semi-dried lube is not exactly a nice texture.

She manages to waddle back, throwing on a spare, oversized, purple t-shirt from orientation with “LEGIONNAIRES DO IT WITH LIGHTNING” emblazoned on its front, and clambering onto the bed, laid out with their spare, but clean, duvet, just as Percy returns bearing the requested water, as well as… “Is that cake?”

“Olive oil chocolate cake,” he says, handing her the glass. She drinks, gratefully. “With some salted vanilla ice cream.”

…Oh! The dessert!

He grins. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“No,” comes her immediate retort.

Percy must be tired, too, because he doesn’t really push back, only gives her a bowl before plopping down next to her. “Sure.”

“I didn’t!”

“Uh huh,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chocolate cake.

Not to be left out, Annabeth takes a bite of her own.

Predictably, it’s delicious. It’s divine. She’s a bit of a confessed snob about olive oil, one of her few true cooking-related talents, and she’s pleased to see that it’s rubbed off on Percy–the olive oil is smooth, fruity, and just a little bit bitter, perfectly complemented by the dark chocolate of the cake. Her fork picks up a little bit of the salted vanilla ice cream, too, and it comes together to form a symphony of color and flavor in her mouth, mutedly sweet and softly rich. She moans, eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“Good?”

She doesn’t even respond, just swallows it down and shoves another forkful in her mouth.

Percy chuckles, licking his fork. “Should I be pleased or worried that your ‘enjoying food’ noises are the same as your sex noises?”

“Pleased. Very pleased.”

“Oh good. ‘Cause this was supposed to salvage date night if the anal hadn’t been good.”

Laughing gently, she tips her head back against the headboard. A sound strategy if she ever heard one. She gently rocks from side to side, tensing and releasing her core, savoring the sweetness on her tongue and the dull ache below her stomach. “Well, you definitely don’t have to worry about that.”

She can feel his heavy gaze on her as he inches closer, brushing her arm against his. “So, that was okay? You… had fun?”

Nodding her head, she tenses again. “Oh yeah.”

“Does it hurt at all?”

Nod.

“Sorry.”

Annabeth not-so-casually throws a leg over his own, hooking their ankles together, and lays her head on his shoulder, cuddling deeper into his side. “So not a problem.”

“So… this is a thing for you.”

She shrugs as best she can. “Yeah. I guess.”

It’s not something they ever really talked about at length. They’ve been friends long enough, dating long enough, and having sex long enough for Percy to realize that she doesn’t mind a little pain mixed in with pleasure. But she also knows that Percy’s fear of hurting his loved ones is integral to who he is as a hero. As a human. It’s just one of the many reasons why she loves him. If this is going to become a problem for them… well, they’ll figure it out. They always do.

But Percy rushes to soothe her, kissing her head. “I’m not–I don’t want you to think that I think it’s weird. Or that I… that I–don’t like it myself.” She can feel him flushing, can feel the jump in his pulse. “I just always want to know you’re having fun. Or enjoying yourself. If you like this–if you like pain…” Beneath her shoulder, he breathes in deep, settling his racing heart, and she relaxes into him further. “I mean, you’re a warrior. You’re the greatest warrior. And I get the appeal of adrenaline, of testing your limits and your body, I do, I just… if this is a thing you want, I want to make sure I’m always giving you the thing you want.” He noses her hair, and she takes his free hand with her own, entwining their fingers together. “I couldn’t bear to hurt you in a way you didn’t like, that I didn’t bring you more pleasure than pain.”

Her own heart lurches in her chest. There are so many things she could say, so many affirmations and reassurances and declarations of the goodness of his heart, but her throat closes up just thinking about it. Momentarily speechless, she kisses their joined hands instead.

“If I–if I ever… you’ll tell me, right?”

It’s a testament to the tenderness of the moment that she doesn’t even mind when her voice trembles as she responds, “Gods, Percy, of course.”

His breath is shaky beneath her as he sighs–but she can feel his shoulders relax, his taut body settling as the tension begins to run out of him. He was actually a little bit afraid, she realizes. Scared to voice such an old, dark fear.

It’s almost funny. Annabeth’s usually the one who has issues with vulnerability. It’s hard, but she likes to think she’s getting better at it. And when the reward is this, this intimacy, this wonderful quiet closeness, it’s worth it. It’s so, so worth it.

The moment feels big, somehow. She feels closer to him than ever before.

“So,” she says, her voice still a tiny bit thick, “does this mean we get to do this again?”

His laugh is startled out of him, short and sharp, but it does the trick–his heart settles fully, and he relaxes even further. “Sure,” he says, taking their empty bowls and stacking them on the bedside table. “I’m game if you are.”

“Definitely.” Hands free, she turns into him, throwing an arm over his torso.

“Though maybe next time we should try it on me,” he muses. “I mean, if it’s as fun as you make it seem, I kinda wanna check it out.”

She frowns. “I suppose.”

“What, are you claiming bottom privileges?”

“All the best heroes were bottoms,” she says, primly. “Achilles, Alexander… I’m in good company.”

“Well, I’m a great hero, too,” Percy says, shutting off the lamp, plunging them into warm, companionable darkness. “Maybe I should get to try it.”

“No.” She snuggles into him further, squeezing his chest. “Mine.”

“Ah, of course.” He pulls the blanket over them. “I forgot I was in the presence of the mighty Annabeth the Great.”

“Of course.”

“Fierce lioness of Athens.”

“That’s me.”

“Greatest hero in all of Greece. Or at least in the Bay Area.”

She kisses his chest. “You better believe it.”

“Never doubted it for a second.”

#my fic #percabeth #pjo fic #it's about butts folks #it's rated E folks #it's 10k worth of smut folks #me belting the lyrics to the song at 12 w/o knowing wtf i was saying lmao

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dde719 · 7 months

Text

Pairing: Twins Hoseok x reader

WC: 1.8k (written in Feb 2023)

**Fantasy au where the twins have different abilities**

AN: Hey how is everyone doing? Um, this story came as a surprise. I was bullshitting on the TL on Twitter one day with a friend who shared these two Hoseok photos. I was instantly inspired and she helped me with the part about Ice having the ability to heal. I wrote this to "Take You Down" by Chris Brown. I felt like it was fitting since he danced to it. How's everyone doing? Just in case yall didn't know I am Sope biased so I definitely had a moment of crying with his news. I know the time will fly by and he will be amazing. You all have a beautiful day.

Oral sex, f receive

Temperature play

Missionary position

Fingering

Rough doggy style

Restraints

Burning hot cum

Claw jewelry (mentions of blood)

Cold healing powers

It was a beautiful spring day in the city and you were walking down a path of cherry blossoms with an iced latte in hand. You were heading home after a long day at work and didn't notice this man staring at you. Listening to some music in your own world. You walked closer to where he was and didn't see the large cameras in the way, you stumbled and he rushed to your aid. Your coffee spilled, just fucking great, you thought as his large hands grab your arm to keep you from completely falling. He smiles, "are you ok?" Then you finally look up to see his face, too stunned to speak, "I- uh... yeah."

He was gorgeous with snow white hair, holding a staff, and a blue hoodie with ice crystals on it. You figured he was a model because he was too beautiful not to be. His hands were cold to the touch, "Hello, My name is Ice. What's yours?" You stare into his eyes, "My name is yn... nice to meet you." At this moment, it was love at first sight, you wanted to know him better and saw him every day for the next two weeks. Laying down in his bed, cool fingers brush along your skin, causing goosebumps to sprout. You shudder, "why are you always so cold my love? You should turn on the heat." He looks at you, "I can't do that because-" he trails off and you kiss his lips. The coolness pierces through your body as he removes your clothes and climbs on top of you.

He leans down, tongue gaining entrance to your mouth, cold as ice, but you didn't mind the feeling. He hovers over you, hesitant, scared, your brows furrow, "what's wrong?" "I don't want to hurt you." Caressing his cheek, "I'll be ok." Legs wrapping around his waist as he enters you slowly, gripping the sheets at the cooling sensation, "ahh fuck," you gasp. He looks into your eyes while thrusting slowly. He leans down and kisses your lips, moaning with every movement of his hips. He whispers, "you're so beautiful," as he pins your arms above your head. His pace quickens, "you feel so good," his low sultry grunts close to your ear. He notices you shivering so he goes faster, hips bouncing into yours then he pulls out and releases on your stomach.

He rushes to put the blankets over you and asks if you're ok, through gritted teeth, you answer, "yes." You were trying to warm up, and he was reluctant to tell you, it's his fault you're shivering. He desperately wanted you to cum so he descends under the covers. His lips brush your inner thigh and kiss a trail to your slick folds. His tongue circles your clit and you squirm under his touch when two of his fingers with glitter polish pump inside of you. You moan, "Mmmmmm," and grind against his face with a fistful of his white hair. Clenching tight around his fingers, in a raspy,"it's ok baby, let go." His fingers slide in and out faster and his tongue flicks at a rapid speed, your warm liquid trickles down his fingers.

He lifts the blankets, a Chesire grin across his face, "mmm, delicious," in his deep voice. Catching your breath as he prepares the shower, which felt so nice against your skin. Then wrapping you in warm towels and lathers lotion onto your body before getting your clothes. "I have a photo shoot tomorrow... Can you meet me there?" You kiss his cheek, "Yes of course."

The next day you arrive on the set and you see him dressed in black leather pants, a belt, black hair, and claw cuff rings. He was standing in a ring of fire, and on the pebbled ground, god he looks so different, you thought. You run up to him after the cameras stopped and hugged him, "you look so handsome, I love your hair, is it a wig?" He looks at you confused, "WIG!?" You nervously chuckle because your boyfriend was being weird, "well, am I late... Why are you leaving? You told me to meet you here." He looks at you up and down, "I- uh need to change for the next set... follow me."

He walked briskly to his trailer, you practically ran behind him because he was moving so fast. When you reach his place, his smile widens and his eyes are dark, lustful. It somehow seemed different, he lets out a low, "I've missed you," as his lips graze the crook of your neck. The heat radiating off his body made you weak for him. Almost in a trance, his hands reach under your dress, sliding down your underwear. He chuckles, "let's have some fun." He takes the belt and wraps it around your ankles, he's standing in the back of you, "kneel." You pull the dress over your head, and listen to him while trembling, on his knees, the gloved hand travels up your curves and cups your breast before gripping your throat.

The pressure slightly increases on your neck and you grin, as he frees his erection with the other hand. He lets go as your hands plant onto the ground, and your hips move. He slaps your thigh, "stay still." You whine from the pain, "but why," and you move again. He slaps you harder causing you to gasp. You lean onto your elbows as he teases your entrance, he thrust into you hard. You groan, "u-uhhh," He rapidly snaps his hips into you growling. The way he stretches you stings for a few minutes and you yelp loudly when he grips your hair tight and pulls while pounding into you. You moan louder when pleasure takes over your body. He doesn't talk to you, doesn't comfort you, and he feels hot to the touch.

The warm metal claws begin to dig into your flesh and drag down your back. Tears stream down your face, it hurts and the blood trickles down from your wounds. You whimper in pain when he picks another unmarked part of your skin and cuts you painfully slow this time. A few more hard thrusts and he pulls out and cums on your back. It was like hot handle wax stinging your flesh, burning your skin. You lay on the floor sobbing in pain, he was so different from yesterday. Why did it also feel good at the same time?

The door swings open, breaking your thoughts, "BROTHER, NOOOO." Wiping the tears from your eyes and you see the white-haired man who was your boyfriend. Your eyes dart to the other one, "wh-who the fuck are you?" Ice rushes to your side, "Why would you do this to her? I- I'll have to heal her." The other man lets out an evil laugh, "You know what happens when you do that." Ice starts to cry, "Yes, but I really like her... Why do you always have to do this? Why can't you find your own girlfriends?" He chuckles, "because yours are more fun... They give into me so easily." You lay there confused, "Um... ok, but who the hell are you?" you mutter pointing to the dark-haired man.

He gleams, "My name is Fire... You did well sweetheart. If Ice doesn't kill you, we should do this again sometime. Seeing you like this makes me hard again. " You begin to cough, "wh-what..." Tears stream down your face, and Ice starts to explain, "I can heal your wounds but they always come with a price." You stare at him with blurred vision and he continues, " it will drain your life force with every wound I fix and you might die... No, you will die." The blood pooling around you, "W-we can try... if you see me slipping, just stop. OK, I love you... I trust you."

He sighs in agreement and kisses your hand. He rolls you down onto your stomach and removes the belt from your ankles. His hand waves over two of the wounds and he slowly moves down the length of it. The cold burns into the holes and shoots through your body, causing you to cry in pain. He takes a deep breath, "baby, are you ok?" You breathlessly scream, "YES!" and he goes through the next section. The same sensation returns and that side starts to feel numb. It hurt so much that you want to vomit, you give him a thumbs up to continue as you can't muster up any more words.

He moves to the next section of your back and the screaming ceased and part of your skin turns blue. He stops in a panicked fit and checks your pulse. Thankfully, you still have one and Ice stares and his brother, "Help me warm her up since this was your doing." His eyes roll, "Ugh... fine." He touches the areas and gently rubs some warmth until the color returns. They move you to the bed and give you an extra blanket and dress your wounds. Ice scoffs, "if you do this again, I'll fucking kill you." Fire laughs, "You won't... brotherly love remember." His head shakes, "I'm serious, fuck that, and fuck you."

When you awakened hours later your boyfriend was by your side. He caresses your cheek, "I'm so happy you made it." You giggle, "Um, so you didn't tell me you had superpowers or some shit." He beams, " I was afraid you'd leave or be scared of me... I apologize about my brother." You shift on the bed and kiss his lips, "Minus getting hurt... I kind of liked it." You hear his laugh from the other side of the room, "See dumbass, the ladies like it rough." You wince, "I love how Ice does it too, maybe we could do it together one day... Just a thought." Fire joined you two on the bed and all of you laid together resting. When you woke, you realized that you could see yourself with these two and all of the possibilities together.

#bts fanfic #bts #bts jung hoseok #hobi #jhope smut #bangtan #jhope #hobi x reader

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