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saedii-gilwraeth-simp · 6 years

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Top 10 Female Chracter Tag! Rules: write your 10 favorite female characters from 10 different fandoms and tag 10 different people.

Tagged by @officialpittacuslore

In no particular order because it would be too hard.

1. General Diana Farley from Red Queen by Victoria Aveyard

I love her. She is better than everyone to ever exist anywhere. Gives Mare birth control while giving birth, loses her baby daddy but still fucking fights for her cause, single mom who brings Clara to all the war councils, corrects her dad when he calls her by the wrong rank, gets in trouble for insubordination at the beginning of Glass Sword and then she continues to commit insubordination because her dad is a dick, LEADS A GROUP OF NEWBLOOD FUCKERS WITH AUTHORITY PROBLEMS. She is a queen™.

2. Blue Sargent from The Raven Cycle by Maggie Stiefvater

Feminist icon™. Expert at standing her ground against dickheads (Kavinsky I’m looking at you.) Doesn’t instantly fall in love with Gansey (tbh I wouldn’t have either), dates Adam first which was cute, has excellent bromances with all her guy friends, gives all the women in her life the love and respect they inherently deserve as human beings, has proven to be just as, if not more, badass than the boys, doesn’t let anyone, even her friends, treat her with less respect than that which she deserves. A true supporter of respect and equality.

3. Cress Darnel from The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer.

Anyone who tells me that Cress Darnel from TLC is weak can die in a fiery spaceship crash bc Cress Darnel deserves the world. She was handed over to the government as soon as she was born bc she couldn’t be manipulated, spent 9 years underground and then was moved to a satellite where her only human contact was with her abuser and yet is still a fucking dreamy, star-eyed sweetheart who is brave and heroic and could fuck up your life and mine with 10 minutes and WiFi. Her and her boyfriend are one of the reasons I’m bisexual so...

4. Annabeth Chase from the PJO and HOO series by Rick Riordan

I have been in love with Annabeth Chase since I was 11 years old (and I didn’t even understand love at the time). She is a beautiful badass who is intelligent and commanding but at the same time, very human and vulnerable and I think that is what makes her such a great female character to look up to. She both kicks ass on the battlefield and the classroom, she doesn’t sit back and let things come to her, she gets up and works for what she wants and I think that makes her a great role model for girls reading Rick’s books.

5. Nesta Archeron from the ACOTAR series by Sarah J. Maas

Okay, Nesta Archeron gets a lot of heat from both the in-book characters and the fandom, but I think she’s a badass. She probably would’ve had the closest relationship with her mother out of the three sisters, so having to watch her mother die while her father did nothing would have been agonising for her. And then she went from riches to rags, and then she loses her littlest sister (don’t you fucking dare tell me that she didn’t care for Feyre) and then gets turned into the thing she’d been taught to fear her entire life, and then watches as her bae almost dies and her father does die sooo... in conclusion, #LeaveNestaAlone2K18.

6. Manon Blackbeak from Throne of Glass by Sarah J. Maas

Manon Blackbeak could kill me and I would thank her. She is truly beautiful and her character arc is amazing. She sees Abraxos and his fighting spirit and is full of exasperated pride at evrything he does. She treats her Thirteen with the respect that she is given and has earned her respect from the females by being this amazing pillar of strength. I love her opening scene in HoF (the foreshadowing tho) and how she doesn’t lose any of her scariness as the books go. Plus, let’s be honest, we’re all envious that she got to bang the king of hearts everywhere, the future Mr Manon Blackbeak AKA Dorian Havilliard.

7. Isabela Silva from the Legacies Reborn series by Pittacus Lore

Say what you want but Isabela Silva is a bisexual icon™ and I love her almost as much as she loves Taylor Cook. Like, she’s just so... iconic. Brazillian bombshell with a fucking heart of gold. Her boyfriend says she can’t join his team so she shows him up and then dumps his ass (while his head is still up there, mind you.) Literally convinces five other people to sneak out of a UN/US government guarded facility ‘cause why not? And then even when they get in the shit, they still tear a pub apart to help her out because they love her so much.

8. Nina Zenik from Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

The reason Nina is so far down is because I couldn’t decide whether I loved her or Inej more (jury’s still out btw). Nina is who I want to be. She is self confident and flirty and knows how to get what she wants w/o sabotaging her dignity to get it. She also is such a ride-or-die friend. like, I’m sorry, your friends might be great but are they “take drugs that could kill you just so your friends will be safe” great. I don’t think so. She is amazing, she is stunning, she is intelligent, she could kill a man. I aspire to be her.

9. Marlee Tames from The Selection Series by Kiera Cass

This was a close one between Celeste and Marlee but Marlee Tames is a sweetheart who nearly died for love so she won. She understands that things like money and caste aren’t the only things that matter and when it came down to it, she stayed true to her heart and chose love over wealth. She offered to take double the beating just so Carter didn’t have to. She acted as America’s wing-woman which couldn’t have been easy by virtue that America is angsty and confused. She was kind no matter what crap was thrown at her by others and I have infinite respect for her bc of it.

10. Fleur Delacour from Harry Potter by J.K Rowling

*screams about how much I love and respect Fleur Delacour and all she stands for* Let’s get real, not choosing a HP women for this list is a literary crime. I personally love Fleur bc she is a combination of all the things I admire in a woman. She could kill a man while painting her nails, she used her education to get what she wants, while still be aware of her stunning appearance. She is a woman who has worked hard so no-one with a brain can discredit her. Plus I like to think that she named her first daughter ‘Victory’ just to flip death eaters the middle finger.

I tag @deathgoddessnesta @propshophannah @highlady-cas @catastrophicallyinlovewithbooks @lovelunarchron @nothingtoseehere-move-along @accio-shitpost @dademigods @regolithheart @fourmillionkruge

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murdrdocs · 3 months

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thinking deranged, depraved thoughts about luke like,, making r ride her pillow, like hands on hips guiding her.. talking her through it even 😔

explicit sexual content; MDNI

eventually, you would stop being goaded into doing things by luke.

you should've seen through his meticulously chosen words when he 'offhandedly' mentioned that riding a pillow seemed pleasurable. you should've known that his endgame was sexual gratification for either of you when you told him it wasn't in your opinion. you should've seen him praying on your pride in order to get you to try it out in front of him.

and you definitely should've known, or at least remembered, that luke is confident that he can do most things better than you, leading you both here: luke's hands firm on your hips, pushing and pulling you in languid movements against the bunched up pillow between your thighs.

"theree you go," he encourages you in a long drawn out breath. his dark eyes flicker from the fabric sack between your legs—which just so happens to belong to him—up to your lazy eyes. he smiles, small and gentle.

"feels good, right?"

you don't want to admit it, knowing that an i told you so would be imminent. but you won't lie, so you stay silent. which is enough for luke.

he laughs a little, leaning forward to press a tiny kiss right beneath your navel.

"'s okay. i know it does." he takes a second and then his face scrunches in concentration. or ... wait. no. it's curiosity.

"what if we...?" his sentence remains unfinished as he starts to guide your hips faster, making sure your clit catches the seam each time. your reaction is immediate, hands flying to luke's shoulders as a gasp tumbles out from between your lips.

he's grinning now, nodding to himself.

"there we go, there she is. keep going just like that, angel, and you'll be finished in no time."

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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murdrdocs · 2 months

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loser!luke makes r squirt for the first time 🫣

he's eager. overzealous. entirely too thrilled to have a pretty girl laid out before him, willing to lend her body to him in the name of experimentation.

shockingly, luke's version of experimenting is simply fucking you until you can't anymore.

you'd made a comment a little while ago (maybe three orgasms ago?) about being surprised by luke's stamina, and he'd taken that as a compliment. like usual, he'd taken it as a challenge, too. as a means of proving just how good he could be.

so now here you are, begging for this to be the last one.

if he'd asked you, you surely wouldn't have called it begging. but the high pitched way your words are coming out, and the tears in your eyes, and the many pleas you're whimpering out are all definitely attributes of begging.

"okay," luke tells you, hips still steadily pushing into yours. "last one. promise."

you definitely know how to end it with a bang, too. an incoming warning towards luke that this one is different, a plea for him to stop.

"'m gonna pee, i think," you tell him, your voice wobbling with nerves.

lukes eyes widen because he’s getting more out of this than he thought he would. he can’t help but smile as he shakes his head.

"don't care. lemme have it. please.”

and then your legs are shaking and your back is arching and luke watches your eyes roll back as the biggest display of pleasure he'd ever seen rocks through your body, pulling a strong stream of fluids from deep within you and spilling it all over luke's lower half.

it gathers at the base of his cock, splashing onto his thighs and up along his abdomen. it ruins the sheets, too.

strangely enough, once he's finished, luke has the strongest urge to lick it. just for experimentation.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x you #luke castellan x reader #celeste writes pjo

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murdrdocs · 1 month

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venus fly

description. the pollen that sprayed in LUKE CASTELLAN's face earlier this morning has some really weird effects. not that he's complaining.

a continuation of this drabble

includes. sex pollen SUGGESTIVE CONTENT 18+, accidental drugging, loser!luke, best friend!reader, demeter!reader, implied oral (f and m receiving), slightly perv!luke, aftercare almost nonexistent

wc: 4.5k+

a/n: the long awaited sex pollen fic. title from venus fly by grimes. no explicit smut ahead. artwork credit unknown.

Your shirt is fitting you really well.

Your lips are moving, you’re saying something to Luke, he assumes it’s likely at least a little bit important, but he can only focus on how well your shirt is fitting.

Tight enough over your bust—Luke figures you’re wearing a sports bra for capture the flag today since he sees no bra lines, but the bra creates a nice shape for your tits, so he doesn’t need the lines to entertain him.

“Did you get a new shirt?”

You stop whatever you were saying to look down at your chest. You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest as you fix Luke with a look of disappointment.

“Wha–? It’s an older one. All of my others were dirty.” Your bosom is covered, but Luke is still staring. It’s like he cannot peel his eyes away. Though, he hasn’t tried. At least, not until you scold him.

“Will you stop ogling me while I’m trying to talk to you?”

His reply is earnest. “Wait, shit, yeah. ‘m sorry I don't know what's going on…”

You stare at him, your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted. Luke can’t help but fix his eyes there next. You’re wearing chapstick, or maybe lip gloss. Something that’s spreaded over your lips and creates a nice sheen that makes him want to lick it off like icing on a treat.

“It’s okay …” Your words aren’t that convincing but you drop your arms and start speaking again. This time, Luke takes in at least a dozen words.

Really, he should have known what was wrong with him. The same way he should have known that eventually, his insistent nosiness would come back to bite him in the rear.

You’d always warned him of such, telling him that “it’s charming until it’s not”, when you would boot him out of the greenhouse. (Truthfully, Luke had codependency issues but if he never really admitted it to himself, then he wouldn’t have to admit it to you, either.)

You were spending more time in the greenhouse lately. Which has never been a problem for Luke. But your newest project, something completely unknown to Luke as it was apparently a Demeter kid only project, was taking away his time with you. You could barely spare a half hour to go by the lake. You traded chores with one of your siblings for more time in the greenhouse, leaving Luke to work with someone not nearly as entertaining as you.

The only time he got to really see you was early in the morning and late at night. And if he was losing his time to something else—or, gods forbid, someone else—he wanted to know what it was.

So right when you were leaving the greenhouse early that morning, Luke snuck in after you. He searched around, trying to find evidence of you anywhere, and when he did find it, he found his demise there, too.

Sitting next to your favorite pen was a potted plant. It resembled a venus fly trap, but immensely bigger. There were a cluster of them, some with large flowers growing out of the opened mouths. Luke stupidly had the urge to provoke the plant, driven by the desire to see them in action.

He took your favorite pen, and gently stuck it inside of the mouth.

When a puff of yellow smoke hit him square in the face, he hadn’t thought much of it.

When he stumbled out of the greenhouse with a fog in his head and dizziness, he thought it to be a single side effect.

When he started to feel warmer than usual, he thought it to be an effect of the insistent summer heat.

It’s not until he’s waking up on the ground that he really begins to worry.

His eyes open and he is immediately greeted with the sun attempting to blind him. He squints and raises a hand over his face, shielding both the sun and whoever stands over him.

When they speak, he doesn’t need his eyes to tell who he is joined by.

“Jesus, Castellan, if you didn’t scare the shit outta me just now I would be bragging about beating you.”

Luke groans and rolls onto his side. He’s still wearing his battle armor over his clothes and he suddenly feels uncomfortable, like everything has been made wrong or maybe like he has outgrown them. His camp shirt is too tight against his body, pressing the sweat back into his skin and not allowing for any breathing room. His shorts feel awkward in the crotch, as do his briefs. And his shoes are suffocating his feet.

There is nothing he wants more in this moment than to peel the armor and clothes off of his body and run down to the water. But he doesn’t know if the game has ended yet, nor does he know how long he has been out.

There are many unanswered questions he has, but the first one he starts with is, “Why are you here?”

He hears you scoff and knows you have rolled your eyes.

“We were sparring and you just passed out. I wasn’t just going to leave you here.”

He finally looks at you. His eyesight has readjusted to the light from the star above, so it stings just a bit less when he peers one eye open.

You add on, “I didn’t know if you had spontaneously died or something! And now that I know you’re fine…” You bend down and grab your helmet, situating it back on your head and standing at attention over Luke.

He needs to stand. The last thing he remembers is fighting you and he's never lost a fight to you. In his mind, he hasn’t surrendered, and you haven’t defeated him, so he needs to stand.

He tries to, he really does, but his knees get weak and as soon as he’s up, his head spins and he’s right back down.

You swear just before your knees are hitting the earth and you’re kneeling beside him.

Luke can feel you pressing the back of your hand against his forehead, he can hear you asking him a few questions, he can see your wide eyes staring into his heavy ones, but he can’t respond. He can’t do anything but worry about the bile rising in his throat, or focus on the shining water just behind you.

He doesn’t realize that he has begun moving until the bottom of his pants feel heavy with the weight of water.

When he’s in to his thighs, he collapses and lets the ripples wash over his body.

You don’t follow him until after him for a few moments, and when you do, you stand still at the shoreline. You let Luke soak the heat and sweat off of his skin as best as the circumstances allow, and you only speak to him once he’s standing right in front of you in soaked clothes and wet armor.

“What’d you take?”

At first, he’s not playing dumb. It just takes a moment for your words to plant in his mind. Then he plays dumb.

“Take? I don’t know what you mean.”

You don’t entertain his ditziness and instead begin making your case.

“You’re clearly on something, Luke. You’re sweating even though it’s as cool as it usually is. Your pupils are wide and your eyes go from restless to barely open. You keep fidgeting and every few minutes you twitch. And you’re standing here, talking to me, instead of helping the red team secure another win.”

Luke hadn’t noticed most of his symptoms. It’s not like he can notice anything other than the thoughts in his mind, especially when they give him images of your tits bouncing in his face and audible hallucinations of what you would sound like moaning his name.

He decides then and there that capture the flag doesn’t matter. Not when he has what he wants, the true glory, right in front of him.

He heard you, he processed your words, but the sight of your lips distracts him once more and prevents him from instantly responding. He stares instead, watching your mouth through lazy blinks.

He doesn’t even consider responding until you tut.

“If you don’t want to tell me, then that’s fine. I’ll go get Maria L to take care of you then.”

Luke's eyes widen. Maria L is an excellent healer but she also has a pestering crush on Luke, one that encourages her to touch Luke with grazes that border on harassment and lack any professionalism.

“No! Not her.” Luke would feel bad about his reaction to the girls name if he didn’t have such a one track mind.

Your eyebrows raise to tell him to continue. He does so begrudgingly.

He picks at his fingernails and his cuticles until dead skin peels back to reveal blood. But the sting on his thumb doesn’t compare to the dull pain residing in his groin.

He knows that admitting the truth to you would open the possibility of criticism. His current … illness aside, you would never let him live down the day his nosiness actually reaped consequences. He briefly considers accepting defeat, walking away with his tail tucked between his legs, and taking control of the growing boner on his own.

He might be generally inexperienced in these situations, but even he knows that his own fist wouldn’t compare to even the slightest bit of attention from you.

He opens his mouth. “I went in the greenhouse.”

Your eyes widen as if Luke had confessed to committing a cardinal sin, and it’s then that Luke begins to really worry about himself.

“Did you …?” You don’t even have to finish your sentence before he nods. “Luke! You fucking-“

Not really in the mood for your chastising, Luke holds one hand up. He is able to silence you for only a second before you’re slapping his hand away. You’re yelling at him, both for trying to rudely shut you up, and for doing the one thing you told him not to do.

He sits and listens, waiting not-so-patiently for you to tire yourself out. He thought that point would come sooner than it does, but he’s sure that at least two minutes have passed and you’re showing no signs of stopping.

He rolls his eyes, he furrows his eyebrows, and he tries to discreetly adjust the boner in his cargos, but according to you, Luke has never been discreet a day in his life. He has never believed in your so-called ability to see right through him until your eyes pointedly drift to his crotch with his hand still attached to it.

Your insistent rambling ends unfinished. You blink, you don’t say anything. And then:

“Oh.”

At this point, he doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say anything. You fill the silence for him.

“Oh, Luke. I told you not to go in there because …”

His eyebrows lift. “Because what?”

You take a breath. “The plant, the Venus Fly, the pollen is an aphrodisiac.”

Luke knows what an aphrodisiac is, he isn’t dumb, but he still asks for clarification. And when you explain, he asks you to dumb it down. Even then, he blinks at you. Because you were right. His nosiness caused this.

He’s considering pitying himself whenever you suggest the one proposed solution, the only solution the Demeter and Apollo kids have been workshopping together ever since acquiring the plant from another kid's quest.

And when your solution comes, Luke determines that there is no way he could pity himself whenever he is in the position he’s been dreaming of for literal years.

He might not have envisioned this particular scenario, as his fantasies usually entailed the two of you alone in a bed not at Camp Half-Blood. But something about this makes him enjoy it more. Out in nature, in the open with many possibilities of being caught surrounding you both. His lips on yours, his lips surrounding yours, as he kisses you messily.

There is something perverse about the idea of getting to fuck you out in the open, gods willing. He didn’t think it was something he would be into, but it’s all he can think about when he’s rutting against you.

He breathes you in. “I’ve …” he takes a moment, rubbing his stiff cock against your crotch once more. He groans as he speaks. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

You hum, your hands fisting the part of the back of Luke’s shirt that isn’t covered by his armor.

“Luke,” you start and your voice is already full of hesitance. Luke isn’t sure he wants to hear what you have to say, but he knows it would be wrong not to. He busies himself with kissing your neck and under your jaw.

“It’s the pollen talking,” you tell him. “You’re not yourself. You’re basica-“ He bites down onto where he can feel your pulse thrumming under your skin. You gasp, loud and broken, before continuing. “You’re basically drugged.”

Somewhere deep down Luke knows that there’s logic in your statement, there usually is logic in your statements, besides during those times where you would say whatever came to your mind in the late hours of the night. But he doesn’t care, logic be damned.

He knows that he’s felt this way—or at least in the range of this way—for a while now. The pollen has just given him the confidence to act on his desires.

While the pollen has given him confidence, it hasn’t given him experience.

He sloppily kisses along your neck and jaw, not necessarily knowing what he’s doing but he knows he’s expected to suck at one point, so he does. He just wants to please.

You don’t react much to his lips on your skin, so he lifts a hand and slides it under your shirt and armor. The chest piece doesn’t allow for much maneuvering and Luke frowns against your skin before he separates completely to pull the armor off himself.

He knows the clasps on the metal as well as he knows clasps on his favorite pair of pants. Yet his hands fumble. Excitement and the effects of the pollen, he reasons. But his face becomes warm from something other than the two, something he would rather not fully acknowledge. Especially not when he’s about to get his dick wet in the warmth of the one person he’s wanted since he was old enough to actually understand sex.

You ask Luke if he wants your help with your usual teasing tone, but Luke doesn’t take kindly to it. As soon as he has the chest piece off, he has your shirt following it, and then his lips are back on yours.

If even possible, this kiss is heavier. Firmer. Meaner.

He still doesn’t know what he’s doing, but he calls onto the one other time he’d made out with someone. He remembers how he had been instructed to use his tongue and lick into his partner's mouth (a boy from the Ares cabin who stopped coming to camp a year ago). He had been kind to Luke when he didn’t know what he was doing, but now Luke feels like he needs to prove himself. He wants to prove himself. He wants to impress you.

What results is a clash of teeth and tongue. It’s messy, sloppy, and slobbery.

Luke likes it that way.

You pull away first.

Not much has been done, but you look a mess. Your lips are coated in saliva, probably yours and Luke’s, and pride floods his chest. You look flushed, too, and Luke sincerely hopes he’ll be able to amplify the emotion on your face soon thereafter.

“Slow down. Luke.” Your words are soft, gentle, and kind. Just like you. Just like your hands that card through his still-wet hair.

He winces, and not from the way your fingers snag on a cluster of curls. Wrongly assuming the cause of his sound, you apologize and smooth the patch of hair down. Your hands instead slide down Luke’s shoulders and he tries not to frown at the change.

“Sorry,” he admits. He gnaws on his bottom lip, already missing the feeling of yours, and finds himself continuing. “I haven’t really made out with anyone since …”

You nod, lips pulling up in the corners. “Theo?” Luke nods. “I know. We tell each other everything, remember?”

Not everything.

No one else is privy to the dreams Luke has about you. He has never told you, or anyone else, about all of the times he would fist his cock and chant your name in the showers late at night. In fact, when you would ask what took him so long, he would make up a lie about taking advantage of the hot water and solitude. While it was only a white lie, it was a lie nonetheless.

The innocent and naive look on your face as you accepted his lie by omission only made Luke’s cock harder.

You’re staring up at him now with a look different enough, but his reaction is the same. Your eyes hold interest, intrigue, a little bit of mischief, perhaps. You look sure of yourself, like you’ve done this and in this capacity multiple times before. But Luke knows about your experience, nearly the exact same as his save for a few details he wishes to erase.

When you had dished on your sexual history, Luke felt jealousy stirring deep in his stomach. He had been with other people, a guy and a girl, but that was in hopes of getting his mind off of you. Meanwhile, you had been with other people out of personal interest and not self-deluded necessity.

Either way, your experience is almost the same as Luke’s, and knowing so makes it easier for him to take the lead.

He kisses you again but he tries to go slower. Everything in him screams for him to speed up, to take you how he pleased, but he breathes and pushes the thoughts aside.

Taking it slow pays off when you work the armor off of Luke’s torso (without much difficulty at all), and then slide your hands under his orange shirt to rest your palms against his abs. The feeling of your skin against his is striking, even though the touch isn’t much at all. Pathetically, Luke is affected by the meaning more than the physicality.

“What do you feel now?” You ask him after pulling away from his lips.

Luke’s immediate reflex is to say “horny”.

You roll your eyes and absentmindedly scratch your nails against his abs. When he keens, he figures he’s hornier than even he thought.

“I mean other than that. Your skin is warm so I’m assuming you’re still nearing a fever, at least. Are you lightheaded? Nauseous? Anything?”

Luke feels like he’s been slapped in the face. You were asking about his symptoms like a healer. Like an Apollo kid. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were only touching him to gauge his temperature. Were you only doing this—kissing him—to keep his fever warded off? Did you even want this?

Rationally, he knows that you would do anything to help him. You’re his best friend, after all. But he wants you to want this, otherwise it would mean nothing. Otherwise, he wouldn’t even begin to hold a torch to your previous partners. He would be the one you laid with out of moral obligation and not interest.

He hadn’t been feeling nauseous before, but his throat starts to construct as if preparing to trigger his gag reflex.

He hasn’t responded and you’re looking at him inquisitively.

“Nauseous,” he starts. “Hot. Horny. Are you only doing this to keep me from dying?” The question messily tumbles out without him noticing.

You run your tongue over your teeth. “Yes. But there’s also personal benefits involved.”

Usually, Luke could decipher your maze-like answers. But he’s so hot and worked up and lacking an immense amount of patience.

“So you want to fuck me?”

Luke doesn’t continue his work until you respond.

“Yes, Luke. I want to fuck you.”

He has your shirt over your head in less than a minute. The button on your shorts is undone 30 seconds after that. He has completely forgotten about your plea to go slower, but even if he did remember he wouldn’t be able to comply.

He needs to feel you. All of you. Or else he might collapse then and there.

His hands run over your shoulders and torso gratefully, only appearing as the opposite whenever he runs into your bra (a sports bra, as he had assumed). As soon as he has the straps pulled down, he latches his lips onto the newly revealed skin.

Distantly, Luke thinks he would have liked to have been able to lay you back. He wants to see you laid out before him while you’re completely at his mercy. Luckily, he has learned to adapt. He has been dealt unfavorable cards in his life, and turned them into something worthy. He plans to do the same here and now.

As he sinks to his knees, he pulls your shorts down with him. You don’t have to be told to step out of them, but as soon as you do, you’re looking down at Luke with your eyebrows raised.

“Are you sure? I haven’t showered since yesterday and I’m really sweaty.”

Luke doesn’t pay any mind to your words. As you’re speaking, he already has his fingers forced under the elastic fabric of your panties.

“I’m sure.”

He pulls the fabric down.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

He pulls your leg over his shoulder, bringing your cunt straight to his face.

He has never gotten this far with someone before, he has never even seen examples of what to do in this position. He could back out. He could set your leg back down and only get his dick wet. But you smell so good, and you’re practically glistening in the sun, and you’re staring down at him expectantly so Luke slowly leans forward, sticks his tongue out, and gets to work.

‎

By the time Luke feels even a bit satiated, the sun has started to descend to its destination below the horizon, creating a soft blue hue over the sky.

You’re panting under him, your back and arms painted with dirt, just a bit smudged on your cheek and a few flecks of it strewn throughout your hair. Your stomach rises and falls with your breaths, drawing Luke’s attention to the fresh cum laying there. There’s some dried cum on your back, and just the smallest smudge at the corner of your lips. Luke doesn’t think much before he licks his thumb and wipes away the white crust from your mouth.

He sits back on his haunches and sighs with his head tilted to the sky. His hands rest on his thighs with an exorbitant amount of self control, as he desperately wishes to wrap his fingers around his semi-erect cock and jerk himself to another orgasm.

He thinks that most of the pollen has left his system by now, and at this point the desire he feels is natural. It’s the same desire he has felt for you for a while now, only amplified by the memory of what the real thing was like with you. It’s addicting. Luke truly cannot get enough, even though he has been out here with you for hours. Somewhere along the way, one of the teams won capture the flag. Luke wasn’t sure which one, but the triumphant yells in the distance alerted him of a victory. Somewhere between his third orgasm and your fourth, the conch for lunch blew off into the distance, but Luke had absolutely no concern for satisfying his physical hunger. He was too focused on the sight in front of him.

When he brings his vision back down, you’re sitting with your legs pulled in your chest and your arms wrapped around your calves.

“We should clean up and go have dinner,” you tell him, your voice weak and hoarse.

Fear strikes Luke still. You’re avoiding his eyes, staring down at the dirt, and speaking in a soft voice.

He shuffles closer to you, reaches out to touch you, and then he reconsiders. You take a deep breath, and Luke rests his hand on your elbow.

“Okay. Are you okay? I know that was a lot.”

You look at him and Luke feels a bit better, because while your eyes are a bit distant, you don’t look upset.

“I’ll be okay. ‘m just tired. But what about you, are you fine?”

There is still that nagging in the back of his head, telling him to take you one more time, but his logical part knows that you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He knows that you’ve had enough. Which means he, too, has had enough.

“I’m good.” He leans forward and presses a kiss into your hairline. He stands, pulls his boxers onto his lower half, and offers you his hand. “C’mon.”

You let Luke help you redress and hold his hand as he leads you back to camp the back way. You two come out of the forest right by the showers, where Luke tells you to wait while he does his best to sneakily run back to the cabins. He grabs himself a change of clothes, then sneaks into the Demeter cabin where he does the same for you.

He knows that he has just seen all of your intimate parts for hours on end, but holding your panties in his hand makes his ears redden. Blood threatens to rush down to his crotch but he fills his head with the most undesirable images until he reaches you.

Two showers are started, you and Luke stand back to back, and Luke enters his shower.

When the bathroom is covered in steam and you’ve both used the remnants of the hot water, you and Luke redress and reach the dining pavilion just in time for dinner.

He falls into the routine of a caring counselor easily. He answers insistent questions about his previous whereabouts with a passing “I was sick” that earns just enough sympathy and stops the questions all together. A few times he looks across the way to see you already looking at him. Instead of dropping his eyes or teasing you with the slyest middle finger he could muster, he smiles at you just slyly enough to not raise suspicion.

When offerings have been given, and Luke feels full in multiple ways, he finds you at the bonfire and sits with his leg flushed to yours.

He had just begun to think that all of the pollen was out until you rested your hand on his knee and he felt a jump in his stomach.

Goddamn it.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo #loser!luke

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murdrdocs · 3 months

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FOOLISH LOVERS. luke castellan

description. luke castellan has betrayed camp half blood. luke castellan has made an enemy out of those around you. and unfortunately, luke castellan has always held a place in your heart that you can't close off. at least, not until you meet with him one final time.

includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, daughter of hypnos reader, oral (f and m receiving), brief anal rimming (f receiving), implied p n v, dreamscape sex again, angst galore, some arguing, references to pjo ep 8. inspo from wicked game by chris isaak

wc: 5.8k+

a/n: a dreamcatcher: daughter of the god of dreams installment.

Before you can realize the change, you’re standing on a hill.

It takes you a second to notice, but the area is much like your dreamscape. Low, waving blades of grass that travel through the air with the wind brushing against your bare ankles. The ocean is loud and to your right, down beneath a steep cliff. From just a quick glance, you see a storm brewing off into the distance. The water swirls angrily as if it’s ready to disrupt anything that dares to come into its path.

You can’t help but think about the betrayed son of the sea god back in reality who surely feels the same.

When you take your eyes away from the entrancing scenery of the ocean, you notice a cabin directly in front of you. It’s small, and made from long wooden logs, although there isn’t a forest nearby to identify the source of the frame. The exterior is slightly shabby, appearing manmade with a few imperfections.

It’s not on a comparable scale to the cabins back at Camp Half-Blood, but something about it feels cozy. It gives implications of a simpler life. Maybe what summer camp could have been if you weren’t the offspring of a god.

That and the clouds rumbling with warnings of an approaching storm is what encourages you to seek refuge in the four walls.

Step by step, you don’t fail to notice how a focus subject has yet to appear.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and you push the slab of wood open as you wonder who’s dream you could have been pulled into tonight.

You haven’t even stepped foot over the threshold, you have started to convince yourself that this is the dream of the son of the sea god, and then someone speaks.

“Hey.”

You stop.

Your foot hovers for a second before you place it back beside the other.

That voice. You hadn’t heard it for months now, but you know it. Day after day, you lay at night with your eyes closed, cementing the memory of the way he spoke and how he sounded as he laughed at your jokes into your mind. Forcing yourself to recall the inflections in his tone as he teased you, and how his words flattened out and got hard when he gave orders to yourself and others. And then, completely involuntarily, you would force yourself to pick through every single intonation and word that you could remember, attempting to find signs. Any hints or clues that Luke Castellan wasn’t the person he made himself out to be.

Each night, you grapple with the fact that you couldn’t find any clues. You tried to reconcile with your blindness, all while telling yourself that you could have attempted to prevent it all.

But hearing his voice now, none of that returns. Unexpectedly, your body floods with warmth.

Luke sits on a small loveseat. The shape of it is a bit of a blur at first, but you blink and it cleans up to present a busy patterned textile couch. It’s well loved, there are a few tears in the bottom of the fabric at the back, and if you’re smelling it correctly, there’s a slight waft of cigarette smoke.

Strangely enough, it’s inviting.

You hate to admit it to yourself, but the boy sitting at one end of it makes it even more inviting.

You step into the cabin and close the door behind you.

“Hey, Luke.”

He turns around to face you at the sound of your voice. You sound stronger than you expected. More casual, too.

You realize that he’d been looking out a large set of windows before facing you. There’s only two but they take up most of the small wall. Outside is a perfect view of the land you’d just come from; bright green grass in the foreground and deep blue salt water off into the distance.

Luke stares at you.

The cabin is a little dark—there’s a lamp in the far corner that illuminates the room, washing out the otherwise blue light from outside—but you think his eyes are shining. As if there’s unshed tears barely held within them.

He smiles at you. It’s soft and almost mournful.

You should leave.

You shouldn’t be fraternizing with Luke at all, even if it is within a dreamscape. You couldn’t trust yourself in a room with him, especially with the things the two of you used to do when you were in dreamscapes alone.

Just looking at him reminds you of all of those times. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. The feeling of his muscles beneath your inquisitive hands. The deep and smooth sound of his voice. The way everything felt so real and so tangible as he rocked into you, and then as euphoria swept over your bodies you felt so infinite and surreal.

Your teeth find your lower lip. Your body urges you to get closer to Luke. Stubbornly, you stay in your spot.

“What d’you think?” He lifts a finger and circles it around in the air. Your eyes lift and you finally take in the rest of the cabin.

The main room is spacious, but comfortable. Lightly furnished with hardwood floors. Though almost every surface is covered in some sort of rug, most of them persian. There’s a small kitchen to your left, and then the living area that Luke sits in on the right. There’s a few bookshelves but there aren’t many books on them, and there’s a fireplace that looks to have never been used before. A few picture frames sit on the mantle of the fireplace, but from afar they just appear to be showcasing blobs of people without any distinctive features to identify an identity.

Admittedly, for this to be the created dreamscape of the son of a messenger, it’s impressive.

You tell him as such.

This time, Luke’s smile is appreciative.

“Means a lot coming from you. Especially with the things you can create.”

Your skin heats up and you block the memories out of your head before they can firmly cement themselves once more.

“You might have me beat, Castellan. Giving me a run for my money.”

You don’t know why you decide to fall into the old routine with him. Maybe it’s because you can’t push Luke away for the life of you. He was once your friend and so much more at the same time. It’s impossible for you to completely forget the times you shared together.

Maybe it’s the home making you feel this way.

How comfortable it feels. How protective it is.

You’ve spent weeks pulled into unfortunate dreams. Nightmares have plagued even the toughest minds of Camp Half Blood as of late, and you’ve been unable to fortify your own mind enough to prevent slipping into the mind of others. Which has left you to fight against unbeatable monsters, fortify the barriers of Camp only to have them knocked down by Zeus over and over again, watch those you love die in horrible battles, and much much more.

In comparison, there is the possibility of a simple conversation with Luke Castellan giving you what you’d been desperately missing even if you wouldn’t admit it to yourself: Luke’s company.

It’s how you reason with yourself whenever you take a seat atop the cushion of the couch. Instantly, it feels as if you’ve never truly known comfort before. This couch conforms to the curves of your body. You lean back against it, pull your feet up with you, and you quickly decide to stay a little while longer.

Up close, Luke looks even prettier than you remember. Dark curly hair a little more grown out, unruly and hanging over his forehead like low hanging fruit, begging for you to latch onto it. His face looks a little slimmer as if he’s lost weight, and the angular planes of his cheekbones and jawline accentuates the dark shadow he has along his chin. The mark of facial hair that was previously present. Beneath his clothes—a faded black, almost gray hoodie, and black sweatpants—he appears larger. His shoulders wider, his neck thicker, his wrist and hands veiner.

(Compared to his covered body, you feel bare in nothing but long socks, and a matching shorts and tank top set.)

He looks virtually the same, but his aura is different. There’s more confidence in him, a larger ego, glory even, that wasn’t there the last time you’d seen him. You know what has caused the change, and it should be something you despise. But his new glory makes him more attractive. It dries out your tongue and lodges something in your throat, pushing it further down until it sits heavy in your stomach.

“Thought this could be our new spot.” Luke speaks softly, almost in a scared whisper, as if he fears that you’ll reject him.

(You don’t know if you could ever reject Luke)

Your eyebrows furrow. “Our spot?” Confusion drips off of your words.

Luke nods once. He licks over his lips and you’re quick to peel your eyes away from the sight and back to his eyes. That’s not helping you much either so you instead try to figure out what books are on the shelves afar.

Since the little amount of time that has passed, there have been a few more added. From the ones that have already been there, the titles are too far away, too dream disoriented, and your dyslexia hasn’t escaped this dream, but you think you find novels on Seeing. Guides on how to decipher the visions that come to humans, or how to channel them.

You focus back on Luke.

“Yeah. Like the old bedroom. But a little more …” he hesitates to find the word then lands on, “Casual.”

The bedroom.

Your lower stomach stirs at the mention of it. The large bed, how warm it always was in there, the cold leather of the couch, the things the two of you did to each other on all surfaces.

This spot is definitely a lot more casual. You’re not instantly compelled to straddle Luke here, although you do have a few thoughts about throwing your legs over his right now and reconnecting in ways you’ve missed since he left.

So badly do you want to agree. This could be the one place where you get to experience what you’ve been missing without anyone else knowing. This is the only place where you can see Luke without anyone else knowing.

But it’s wrong.

He’s the cause of all of this. He’s caused the nightmares you’ve been pulled into. He has betrayed everyone on levels you could have never imagined. And who’s to say that he won’t betray you again.

“We won’t need a ‘spot’, Luke.” Briefly, his eyes flash as if he’s hurt but in your eyes, Luke has proven himself to be a formidable actor as of late so you ignore it. “This is a one time thing.”

A moment passes. And then another.

You turn to watch the sea out in the distance. It appears as if the ocean has lulled for the time being. The sky is still dark, but it has yet to deepen in color.

Luke takes a breath and you give him your attention again.

“Why won’t you join me?”

His eyes flash betrayal, his lips twist into something sorrowful.

Your answer comes easy. The same one you’ve told yourself over and over again, night by night when you considered reaching out to him.

“Because it’s not right, Luke.”

When he stands, his newfound power becomes even more clear. It leaks from his pores, spews from his mouth with his words.

“How could it be ‘wrong’ when you feel the same. All that time you spent telling me about your father. How neglected you felt. What happened to that?”

Your head shakes. You stand, too, evening out the field for both of you.

“This is not what I meant. I–” The words don’t find you. Luke takes notice.

“You what? Love your father? Love the gods? After how they treat you. How they treat us.”

“Don’t say ‘us’. We aren’t together, Luke.”

That same look flashes in his eyes once more. He takes a step forward, you take one back.

He doesn’t say anything. You watch his hand reach behind his back.

“What, are you gonna fight me like you did with Percy?”

His head shakes. His eyes harden. He pulls his hand back and it comes up empty.

“He attacked first.”

Your voice starts to rise. “And you tried to kill him, Luke. He’s twelve. What don’t you understand about that? ”

“Twelve and a forbidden child. In the grand scheme of things, his age doesn’t matter. He’s powerful. More powerful than both of us combined.”

“So is that why you tried to kill him? Because he’s a threat?”

“I don’t want to have this conversation with you. Not here. Not now.”

“Yeah? Well then when? And where? Because this is the last time you’ll be seeing me, Luke.”

“Okay.”

Your eyebrows raise. Disbelief paints over your features. You’d expected more of a fight. For Luke to disagree or attempt to convince you to return to him a few more times after this. Maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe you wanted him to convince you that you needed him. Maybe you wanted to hear him tell you that he needed you.

Either way, your reply is the same as his.

“Okay.” You turn and take the few steps it takes to get to the door.

Your chest heaves with large gulps of air in and small breaths of letting them out. Your body is buzzing, the same feeling you would get before sparring with Luke. The same feeling you would get before your bodies joined together.

You tell yourself to reach out for the door handle. You tell yourself to lift your arm, connect your hand with the metal, and pull it open. You tell yourself to return to your own dreamscape, maybe even reality, and forget any of this ever happened.

Maybe you would’ve done it if Luke hadn’t spoken.

“You can walk out that door but that won’t change how you truly feel.”

He doesn’t add on. You don’t move.

“And how do I feel?”

The adrenaline is overwhelming you. You need to expel it out of your body somehow.

As Luke is speaking, you’re already approaching him.

“I’m sure I don’t need to answer that for you.”

When he speaks, it’s with arrogance. His confidence is heavily laced in his words, overflowing until it drips out into the air and lodges in your chest. Running through your body and down to your fingertips. It annoys you, makes you want to battle it out with him in a fight you’re sure to lose.

Your feet thud against the floor with each step until you’re close enough to cup his cheeks in both of your hands and pull his face down to yours.

There’s no hesitation in the kiss from either side. As if both of you were expecting it to happen eventually.

Luke kisses you back vehemently, his lips messily sliding against yours as he presses into the center of your back, accentuating the curve and drawing your chest into his. His free hand glides down your side to your hips. He circles to your back, dragging his palm down to rest over the curve of your ass. He grips the flesh through the soft fabric of your shorts, digging his blunt nails in before continuing his hand—open palmed—down to grip the back of your thigh.

His other hand mirrors his previous actions until he has a hand on either thigh. He tugs once, and you collaborate to wrap your legs around his waist and hook your ankles behind his back. Your hands dig into his hair, and your core tightens as you prepare to continue holding yourself up. But Luke takes most of the load.

He places his hands on your bottom to keep you lifted. You expect him to walk you back to the couch, or maybe pin you to a wall. But he doesn’t.

He holds you against him in the center of the living room, kissing you like he’ll never get to kiss you again. You don’t fail to realize how he likely won’t.

His tongue slides against yours, your teeth knock together at least twice, both of you refuse to pull away to breathe which results in heavy exhales through your noses against the skin of the other cheek.

While it may be uncoordinated, it’s not primal.

There’s copious amounts of longing beneath each pass of your tongues against each other. There’s human emotion behind the way you tug on his hair and how he uses one hand to pull your hips closer to him. There’s raw longing in the soft sighs and gasps you both let out into the other’s mouth, taking it in and replicating the noises over and over again.

When you finally do part, it’s with a wet, pronounced smack.

“Luke,” you gasp his name before you can realize it’s happening. One of your hands moves from his hair to hold his cheek. Your fingers spread around his ear and your thumb probes into his jaw.

He hums, his eyes still shut.

“I want you,” you admit.

You watch the smile spread across his lips, his eyes flickering open to look into your soul.

“Took you long enough to admit it.”

You suck your teeth and roll your eyes. Your other hand, previously resting on his shoulder, slaps his bicep.

“Don’t be an asshole about it.”

He laughs as he apologizes, knocking his forehead against yours. “Sorry, pretty girl.”

He takes a moment.

When he speaks, his eyes are nothing but earnest. His words are slow and careful, despite how simple they are. They fill your chest with warmth. They comfort you, possibly in slight delusion as you instantly believe him without caring about what repercussions his promise could come with.

“You have me. Always have. Always will.”

You’re quick to surge forward.

Luke is quick to reciprocate.

This time, he walks you back to the couch. He settles you on it carefully, not lifting his hands from your bottom until you’re seated securely along the loveseat and pulled to the edge by his hands hooked under your knees.

His own knees dig into the rug beneath the furniture. His head is tipped up to continue kissing you, this one lacking the over enthusiasm from before. Now, he takes his time, having confessed his desire to be with you as long as you’ll let him.

It’s not long until he pulls away and trails his lips down, kissing along your decollete, not stopping when he comes in contact with the fabric of your small shirt. He presses his lips into the fabric firmly, as if he’s trying to reach your skin beneath the layer.

You feel the pressure he has beneath each kiss as he trails down, and you arch into his touch, excitement spreading through your lower half whenever Luke digs his fingers into the elastic of your shorts and pulls them off of your legs before he even reaches there.

You’re quick to leave your legs open, even going as far as to spread them a little more to give Luke more room.

His wide shoulders fill the space. They nudge against your knees and instead of letting you spread your legs even more, he throws them over his shoulders, effectively caging himself in with your limbs.

If the small smile on his face is anything to go by, he’s happy about his position.

You’re still wearing your panties. Your hands trail down to get rid of them, but Luke stops you with a hand on your lower abdomen.

“Let me,” he tells you, voice soft and light.

You remove your hands and do as told. It’s a simple system you have worked out, Luke slowly but surely working his way down to where you want him. He's eager, and you know he wants himself there as much as you do.

It’s strange what desire could make you do.

You’ve never been anything but loyal to Camp Half-Blood. To both of your parents. And in normal circumstances, you wouldn’t allow yourself to do this.

But you’ll simply have a final time with Luke. That’s it. Sharing your body with him, and having his body shared with you, won’t make you forget his transgressions.

As your panties are pulled off of your legs, and your skin is once again placed above the thick fabric on the shoulders of his sweatshirt, you tell yourself that this won’t change anything.

You’ll never be able to forget what he has done. What he’s planning to do.

Except, perhaps, you can push it aside for as long as you’ll have to while you let yourself get lost in his touch.

The first pass of his tongue is a long stripe between your folds. He spreads you open with his thumbs, pulling at the skin on either side to expose your center. Then he flattens his tongue and licks up from your entrance to your clit.

He puckers his lips, sucking twice before flicking his tongue against the bud.

Your hands card through his hair, ignoring the way your fingers get stuck on a few stubborn curls that refuse to separate in favor of grounding yourself. It feels too good, and you haven’t been in this position for too long. There’s nothing you fear more right now than getting too lost and waking up in the real world before you’re even satisfied.

Luke brings his attention back down to your entrance where he laps up what you’ve been leaking. He groans, peeling his mouth away and you stare down at him, entranced by how grateful he looks.

Eyes closed, face completely relaxed, his scar laid flat against his cheek, his pink lips parted and glistening.

He looks ethereal. The sight is addicting.

“Missed this so much,” he admits, tongue flickering out to lick the remnants of your arousal off of his lips.

You feel the same, but you refuse to tell him that. Instead, you scrape your nails at his scalp lightly and shuffle your hips, hoping that alone is enough to capture Luke’s attention again.

Either he catches the memo or he had the same idea as you because his lips are right back between your legs.

You’d expected him to behave like a man starved, licking and sucking your cunt like you would disappear any moment. Instead, he takes his time with you. He utilizes the best part about being in a dreamscape: the lack of concrete time.

He savors the taste of your cunt, and the little sounds you make. His fingers press into the tops of your thighs as he holds them down against his shoulders to prevent you from squirming. His nose nudges against your clit and digs into the short hair you have on your mound.

He presses his tongue everywhere that he can, sometimes even sliding further down to rim areas still unexplored. Each time, you would tense up just a little less, until eventually you were trying to subtly urge his head further down for him to do it just one more time.

And when he does, that’s when the coil in your lower belly gets as tight as it could get, just before snapping from the tension. You would have warned him. Or, maybe you did. You were so focused on getting there that any words that came out of your mouth weren’t even considered. You weren’t aware of anything other than your mouth moving at the same speed as your hips as you dragged your cunt against Luke’s face, using him to guide your orgasm to full completion.

As soon as your hips stop twitching you swing your legs off of his shoulders and slide to the floor beside him. You pull your shirt off, then do the same for Luke, throwing both of your tops off to the side.

Unsurprisingly, he’s not wearing another layer beneath the sweatshirt, allowing you to run your palms down his chest, feeling the familiar definition along his abdomen.

You sit in front of him with your legs folded underneath you, and since he’s on his haunches, he towers over you just a bit. You have to tilt your head up to kiss at his jaw and neck, your hands busying themselves with urging his sweatpants off of his hips.

Luke does the rest of the job for you, hesitantly pulling away from your touch to stand and slide his sweatpants off of his legs himself. You’re left on the ground, hands politely resting in your lap while you stare up at Luke with wide eyes.

He slowly reveals more and more of his legs until he’s wearing nothing but his briefs. They hug him well, like they always have. A prominent outline of the muscle definition in his thighs, elastic waistband hanging low enough on his hips for you to see the ‘V’ that connects his hips and abdomen. And of course, the tight material reveals the prominent boner confined within the crotch of his briefs.

You want to reach up and palm him. You want to pull the final layer off of him. You want to take his cock into your mouth and relax with the heavy and warm feeling of him against your tongue.

But you decide to be patient. And it’s worth it.

Luke slides his briefs off himself, never breaking eye contact with you as he throws them to join the rest of your clothing. His stare is strong and heavy as he spits into his hand and puts his dick into the same place, wrapping his palm around the center of it and stroking a few times.

There’s the prettiest, most picturesque bead of precum at the tip and you’re practically salivating just looking at it, praying deep down that Luke doesn’t run his hand over it so you can have it for yourself.

As if sensing your inner turmoil, Luke takes a step closer, holding the base of his cock right in front of your face, allowing you to get the perfect view of how his tip is a light pink around the almost clear drop of precum.

“You want?” he asks you simply, smiling a bit when you nod eagerly. “Then open.”

You’re quick to do as told, lacking any shame whenever you open your mouth and stick your tongue out. As soon as Luke presses his tip to your muscle, you wrap your lips around him and eagerly suck him clean.

Another good thing about the dreamscape is that everything either tastes like absolutely nothing, or like pure honey. And when you’re with Luke, things are usually the latter.

You start to get lost in it, enthusiastically beginning to suck Luke off even though you were only meant to be getting a taste.

You can see that Luke is close to commenting on it. His eyes shine like they do before he has something to say, but just when his lips part and he takes a breath to speak, you hollow your cheeks and sink as far down him as you can and any words he could have conjured up are suddenly gone.

He lets you do what you want, eyes fluttering shut and one large hand cupping the back of your head as you continue to suck him off. He lets out the smallest noises, pretty grunts and groans and sighs.

Luke was clearly just as wound up as you were. Within a couple of minutes he’s already starting to spew out praises like he does when he’s close. Some of them are fragments, broken words strung together in incomplete sentences.

“So … doing so .. you’re–” when you swirl your tongue at the tip and tease his balls just a bit.

“Gods, you’re so good at this,” when you jerk the majority of his dick with one hand and focus your mouth on his tip with the other.

“Close. So close. Almost there, dove” when you take all of him into your mouth once more, throat molding around the definite shape of him.

And when he cums down your throat, you’re so satisfied that you can’t help but moan unabashedly along with him.

You’ve only just swallowed his cum before his cock is pulled out of your mouth and he’s back on his knees in front of you.

His arms wrap around your waist, he pulls you into his lap, laying his head on your chest and just letting himself be.

Just existing.

After a couple of minutes, you stop expecting him to speak and decide to just exist too. Your breathing eventually matches up, in and out, in and out, over and over again in tandem. Outside, rain starts to thud against the roof of the small home. Distantly, there’s the faint sound of thunder, and you’re sure the ocean is swirling angrily.

None of that matters, though. You’ll be left to decipher the metaphorical meanings of it all later, when you aren’t coexisting in the shared warmth from you and Luke.

When he isn’t kissing the tops of your breasts and holding you securely in his arms.

Eventually, Luke does break the silence. His voice is low when he does, both in volume and tone.

“Can I have you? Just one final time?”

He talks into your skin without looking directly at you. But as you start to respond, you cup his cheeks and force him to look at you.

The entire time, you’ve been fighting this battle. Knowing you wanted Luke, knowing you wanted to be with Luke, but also knowing it was wrong. All of it was wrong.

But right here, right now, you let go. You nod unashamedly. You kiss his forehead then the tip of his nose then his lips, before landing on the bottom end of his scar.

You tell him, “Yes. Of course, Luke”, as if he didn’t even have to ask in the first place.

And truthfully, you don’t think he did.

‎

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Luke is in the middle of pulling his sweatshirt back over his head when you speak. There’s a second where the fabric is hiding his face, slowly revealing the curls at the top of his head, then his dark eyebrows, and finally his eyes. They look as they have the entire time: despondent.

“I know you didn’t. Neither did I.” You have a feeling that neither of you are speaking about the same specific thing, but the overlap in your conditions is so wide that you don’t bother correcting him.

He reaches behind his back once more and when he pulls his hand back around, he has his camp necklace dangling from his fingers. He undoes the knot, and holds it open, waiting, until finally you turn around and let him delicately tie it around your neck.

Your hand touches the beads. You want to thank him, but it doesn’t feel right.

Instead, your lips twist into what you hope comes off as a thankful smile when you turn around. When Luke replicates it, you feel a little better.

There’s a moment, just a brief moment there where you’re both staring at each other and the memory of Luke’s hands and lips and tongue and his everything engrossing you, taking your everything and combining them together, is still fresh on your mind. The warmth of his eyes and the warmth of his camp necklace around your throat heals you. And you consider that your feelings for Luke were stronger than you ever forced yourself to acknowledge.

He was more than a close friend to you. More than someone you looked up to. More than someone you shared your body with in the dreamscape.

He was more.

It feels unfair for you to have these emotions. The wrongness of it all—your feelings for Luke Castellan, how he’d turned out—has rage fueling deep in your gut. With no one else to blame it on, you can’t help but briefly curse the gods.

For they were the ones to cause this. To instill deep hatred into Luke’s chest. To prevent either of you from ever having a normal life where you could live and breathe and love without the burdens placed upon you both.

A life where you wouldn’t have to love and lose someone like Luke.

But there’s nothing for you to do about it now.

You don’t want to leave. But your time together is up. You should’ve left a long time ago, and your choice to stay before resulted in something you could never take back.

You turn and walk to the door. And once more, Luke speaking causes you to stop.

“You are the only one who could make me change my mind.” He says it in a small whisper, as if he doesn’t want to admit it even to himself. As if he shouldn’t be admitting it at all.

‘Are’. His feelings for you still haven’t changed. You don’t know if they ever will.

Either way, you’re forced to change yours.

You don’t know what to say. So you don’t say anything. Your hand reaches for the doorknob. You take it in your palm, gripping and turning at the same time until the latch is undone.

The door opens and fills the room with the sound of rain falling. It’s loud and fills the empty space. Up until Luke speaks and the baritone of his voice joins it.

“This is it?”

You nod once. Luke’s scoff sounds painful. It’s bitter with an edge of hatred. Maybe disbelief.

It makes tears brim at your eyes. Your nose stings. Your throat feels as if it’s constricting with the effort to hold your tears back.

Luke takes a breath. You step one foot out of the door.

“Dreamcatcher,” he calls to get your attention, the nickname giving you that fuzzy feeling you used to get from just seeing him around camp. “We’ll be seeing each other again.”

And then your foot lands on the dry green grass of your own dreamscape.

Just a few hours later, you rise with the morning sun, sneaking off to the showers before everyone else to get rid of the stickiness between your thighs.

The dream might not have been real, but the evidence between your legs certainly was. Strangely enough, that and the additional chord of beads around your neck. You only notice it when you’ve undressed and stepped beneath the shower head, scrubbing at your skin and running into additional jewelry you hadn’t expected to have been there.

You take it off and slip it with the rest of your clothes as a keepsake, carrying it around in your pocket for only you to know about.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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murdrdocs · 3 months

Note

Babe. Babe. Babe. I’m ovulating and it shows BUT. I’m thinking SO heavy abt how in MULTIPLE of ur luke fics you comment on his desire to cum inside, knowing damn well he can’t/that he’ll be able to talk her into it one day and it WONT leave my brain alone. I need a fic where reader finally lets him. I’m gnawing at the bars of my enclosure as I type this. down horrendously. send help.

creampie; MDNI – i did not realize that I did this that often erm

if he hadn't have told you verbally, with the way luke is fucking you, you would've been able to figure out what his goal was.

it was one he recently set, having been given permission by you, coupled with extremely enthusiastic consent.

truthfully, it was about time.

all of those sessions where you would see him staring longingly at your cunt after he fucked it, as if he were expecting something else to happen. all of those nights where he would hesitate before putting on a condom, plump lips parting as if he prepared to ask a question, and then promptly closing as he decided against it.

it all led to this: luke finally fucking you raw, leading himself to an orgasm that would make it all worth it.

he has you in a mating press, as if he needed to amplify his intentions even more.

the tops of your thighs pressed against your chest, your ankles and calves thrown over his shoulders, the position spreading you open to give luke access to the deepest parts of you.

he keeps mentioning it, clearly as entranced by it all as you are. little breaths of "so deep" and borderline gasps of "you feel me?" spoken into the stiff air.

you really aren't much better. the ferocity of his hips, the hunger behind each thrust, has made you go dumb. you can only respond in pornographic "yes"'s and "mhm"'s every so often. all of your energy and sense has gone to the feeling of luke driving himself in and out of you like you're nothing but a pocket pussy.

he'd already made you cum once, and another is steadily approaching. it comes closer and closer as you realize that luke is using your body.

it arrives when luke tells you he's about to cum, since you know what that means.

somehow, your brain begins to function and words form.

"please, luke. please cum in me. i need it so bad."

you sound desperate, like something out a video curated perfectly to appease audiences. but that's just how luke has made you feel. that's what he's done to you.

he presses one of your legs further down into your chest and begins to roll his hips into yours, abdominal muscles going taut as his eyelids lower to watch it all happen.

"'m close, baby. just a little..." he lets the sentence tailor off without a complete ending but its not necessary. not when his hips twitch and then still and then finally, he's spurting cum into you.

it's a foreign feeling, but in the best possible way. warm and wet, copious amounts, more than you would've expected. you think you felt him fill you out a little more for a second, but you can't even begin to consider that whenever luke pulls out and his cum follows.

you barely mourn the emptiness before luke's speaking to you.

"did so well, angel. but i need one more thing from you." he lowers your legs, kisses the tops of your calves. "push it out 'f me. need to see it, angel."

you do as told, letting his cum drip out and encouraging it a little with your last remnants of energy. luke's breath hitches, and then you flinch when his fingers probe at your entrance.

he apologizes in a soft whisper but continues his exploration. thick fingers sliding in his cum, smearing it over your cunt. when he gets up to your clit, teasing the bud with the newly added slip, you say his name. it's meant to be a warning, but it comes out more as a plea.

either way, he still chuckles through his halfhearted apology.

"can't help it," he reasons.

"just look so pretty with my cum leaking out of you."

#got kinda meta for a sec erm #lukesworld!#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x you #celeste writes pjo

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murdrdocs · 2 months

Text

suggestive content; loser luke; MDNI w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

"what?"

luke is staring at you. you can tell he's confused from the tone of his voice, but his features say something else. his features tell you that he interprets your words as one of a joke, one he thinks he is in on if the slight laugh he does is anything to go by.

but you're not joking.

"i said: can i give you a blowjob?"

realizing that you're serious, luke drops his arms from crossed over his chest and furrows his eyebrows.

he goes to respond, his lips parting, but he doesn't say anything. Which leaves you to explain.

"as a friend, of course. i just need someone to teach me how to give head and i thought that since you've always been helpful and you're definitely the most attractive guy at camp, i should ask you. so will you help me?"

you're staring up at him with that look. the same look that convinced him to take the blame for you after you accidentally burned down a barn just a couple of months ago. it's the one look he can never say no to, and definitely not because he has a crush on you.

when he agrees, it's just because he's looking to help out a friend. and also because he really wants to see what you look like between his legs with your lips wrapped around his dick.

#loser!luke #lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #celeste writes pjo #from the vault

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murdrdocs · 3 months

Text

REARRANGE YOUR WORLD. luke castellan

description. as the daughter of the god of dreams still honing her powers, you sometimes found yourself sucked into the dreams of others. tonight, like most nights, you find yourself in the dream of luke castellan. however, his dream seems to be more pleasant than it usually is

includes. SMUT 18+, fem!reader, she/her pronouns for r, consensual voyeurism (luke watches), dub con voyeurism (r watches luke watching…), subby!Luke, dom!reader (dream scape reader), real r and luke r just friends, cliffhanger don't be shocked; title from this must be my dream by the 1975

pt 2

wc. 1.3k+

a/n: the description and warnings makes it sound confusing but its not i swear.

Your dreamscape begins to morph.

You’re barely allowed to mourn the disappearance of the world you love so much, soft grass that acts as a cushion beneath your lax body, the distant smell of salt water and the soft sound of cascading waves just a little ways away. Nobody else in the world is there with you, yet you don’t feel lonely one bit.

And then, it’s ripped from under you and you find yourself in a bedroom instead.

It’s large, warm as if there was previously a source of heat but you don’t find one. You exist solely among furniture, a grandiose bedroom suite, a four poster bed in the center, the shape of what looks to be a couch in the corner. But nothing else is as clear as the bed.

You take a step closer, preparing for the piece of furniture to be the focus of the dream.

There’s just a few moments before the subject appears where things start to change. The changes aren’t noticeable, and if you hadn’t been forced to exist in dreams for a while now you wouldn’t have recognized them. The way the air became more humid and a little stuffier. The smell of the air becomes more pungent with a light musk that reeks of human sweat. And then you can feel a presence even before it’s there.

That’s when they appear.

One figure sits at the edge of the bed on their haunches. From what you can tell, they’re masculine presenting, the expanse of their back toned and tanned, dotted with a few sparse moles. They’re wearing nothing but dark boxer briefs.

The other figure sits towards the top of the bed. They’re lounging more so, wearing nothing but feminine undergarments. It takes you a while to notice who it is, and you spend the time analyzing their position. Leaned back on their elbows casually, legs bent and connected at the knee. They hold the position and air of a goddess, but it’s not until the dream clears you that you notice they aren’t a goddess. They’re a demigod.

They’re you.

Wearing a confident smile (bordering on a smirk) as well as she’s wearing that underwear set.

Your eyebrows furrow, you take a step closer, trying to figure out who is having a dream about you.

You step to the side of the bed and focus on the masculine figure. When your eyes land on Luke Castellan, things start to click into place.

Usually, Luke’s dreams are nightmares. Many times have you been pulled from the serenity of your dreamscape into the tortuous lands that Luke’s mind produced. You’ve fought off monsters from the deepest pits of the underworld along Luke’s side, only to wake up in the morning bearing the mental scars and smiling in Luke’s face as if you were unaware of your presence within his mind.

Your shoulders briefly start to tense as you prepare yourself for such. You wait, and wait. Anticipating the ground to open and swallow the scene. Or for a lightning bolt to strike down your surroundings. Or for something to come from somewhere to morph this brief serenity.

But the nightmare never comes.

Which leaves you to watch and see what will come. For better or for worse.

A few moments go by and then Dream You is speaking.

“Are you going to watch me, Lukey?”

Your eyebrows raise at the nickname. It’s not one you haven’t called him before, but you usually say it in an egotistical tease, used mostly during intense moments like capture the flag or during training.

Never with that tone of voice.

Dream You speaks like a temptress. Her voice is smooth, teasing, and seductive. You don’t even know if your real life voice is capable of sounding like that.

Luke nods, curly hair bouncing with the movement.

“Yes.” He hesitates for a second before adding, “If you’ll let me.”

Her grin grows and it’s not unlike the appearance of the cheshire cat.

“Of course I’ll let you, Luke. I’m not cruel.”

Dream You spreads her legs and the wet patch in the center of her panties is so vivid and emphasized. It’s only something that could exist within a dreamscape, a place where everything was emphasized. Desired or not.

With the way Luke’s breath hitches, you’re sure the sight of Dream You’s arousal is heavily desired by him.

His fingers twitch at his sides as if he wants to touch you. You notice Dream You’s eyes glancing down to his digits, but if she notices his eagerness she doesn’t say anything.

She situates herself up against the headboard and uses her now freed hands to touch her body. One hand goes to her chest and the other goes between her legs. She closes her eyes, and begins to touch over her slit.

“What do you say?” She asks Luke, her eyes still closed as she gets lost in the movements.

Luke’s reply is nearly instant.

“Thank you.”

Dream You sighs, she hums dismissively, and then she hooks her thumbs under the elastic of her panties and slides them off of her legs.

For some reason, your first instinct is to turn away. It’s only now that you’ve realized that Luke Castellan is having a wet dream about you, and you then realize that this is an intrusion. You shouldn’t be here and you should instead be working on finding your way out.

There is no reason for you to stay. Surely, Luke won’t be in any danger in this dream. There'll be no variables for you to manipulate or no reason to wake Luke up before he goes too far under.

But then again … it’s your body. You look at it every single day and that shouldn’t have to change solely because you’re viewing it through someone else’s perspective. Intrigue preys on you, urging you to get closer and closer until you can feel the heat wafting off of their bodies.

You take a step closer.

Since Luke has never seen you naked (from what you know at least), there are a few things that are off. Before you can stop yourself, you’ve blinked and your dream body is as realistic as the one in reality.

She swipes her fingers through her slit, dragging them up to her clit to rub a few circles, then she goes back down to slip her fingers into her entrance, two at a time.

Her moan is instantly pornographic. She throws her head back, arches her back, spreads her legs even more as her fingers start to pump in and out of her cunt. The noises are loud and lewd and vivid. They should make you cringe, and if you weren’t starting to be affected by Luke’s dream then maybe you would have.

Instead, you notice Luke beginning to palm the very prominent shape in his briefs and you can feel yourself falling under a spell of sorts. Everything becomes dreamier. You’re losing your self control. You’re having to fight the urge to kneel on that bed with Luke.

You don’t know if you expected Luke to ask Dream You for permission to touch himself (the relationship between these two is almost as intriguing as their movements), but he doesn’t. He reaches into his briefs and pulls his cock out.

You get a glimpse of his head—red and leaking and admittedly enticing—before your moral compass knocks back into place.

You take one step back, and then another. There really is no reason for you to be in here. Luke is fine, he’s probably having the time of his life, and you no longer have to play the role of the worried friend. You can leave him to his dreamscape, and return to yours where you’ll either try to remember as many details as possible or try to forget it all.

Either way, you shouldn’t be in here.

You turn around and a door appears.

Your foot lands in front of you, and you’re about to make your way to the exit until Luke speaks.

“Stay.”

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x you #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo #luke castellan x reader

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murdrdocs · 3 months

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idc what anyone says but luke will worship every inch of u, like that man will get on his knees and look up at u with the biggest puppy dog eyes while saying the most filthy shit, and like just imagine pulling on his fluffy hair 😵‍💫 - 🎀

explicit content; MDNI

his hands are engulfing your thighs, rough palms running up and down the exposed skin with mindless movements. his brown eyes staring at all of you, a particular focus point being the pretty little panties you chose for the day.

"wore these just for me?" he teases, lifting an eyebrow and jutting his chin in the direction of the manufactured bow in the center of them. as if you needed attention called to the garment.

you nod, humming affirmatively and trying to hide how impatient you are by digging your hands into the sheets on either side of you.

if he noticed your impatience, he didn't show it.

"what about up there?" luke's eyes lift to your covered chest. "got something pretty to show me up there too?"

your hands, satisfied to have something to do now, lift your camp tee over your head, revealing the skin of your abdomen inch by inch, trailing up to the simple but effective matching bra you wear.

he whistles lowly, as if he's catcalling you, and the sound makes you snort unattractively. of course, luke doesn't care.

he kisses the tops of your thighs, beginning his journey up, a passage way traveled by kissing from your navel to your cleavage. all the while he's forcing you to lay back with his adoring assault.

"my pretty, pretty girl," he's saying over and over again, filling your head with even more egotistical praises.

"sweetest girl there's ever been." lie. "prettiest girl." depends. "with the best pussy, too." now that ...

he's at your lips by now, nudging the tip of your nose with his as he speaks vulgar words to you, eyes intently watching for your reaction.

you were close to brushing him off, making a remark about his filthy mouth in an attempt to hide how affected you were. but, as if he sensed this, luke acted before you could.

he slides his hand down your torso, lodging his fingertips between the elastic of your panties and your skin. he inches his hand lower and lower until his hand cups your bare mound where he urges a finger into the wet warmth gathered along your cunt before tediously bring the digit out and to his mouth.

he slips the finger onto his tongue, accepting your wide-eyed gaze while he hollows his cheeks out and sucks the skin clean.

when the finger is gone from the space, and his lips are close to yours once more, he tells you, "and i mean it," just before closing the tiny gap and sharing the bitter taste of you with firm presses of his tongue against yours.

#lukesworld!#–𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 🎀#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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murdrdocs · 3 months

Text

explicit sexual content; fem! reader MDNI

"gods, you're such an asshole, you know that?"

your swearing doesn't deter luke one bit. he chuckles a little under his breath, not even questioning if you mean your words because he's so sure you don't.

he readjusts his grip a little, trailing his hand further down to massage your clothed clit with his thumb and while keeping his other four fingers sprawled out across the expanse of your stomach.

with his other hand, he continues pumping his cock.

"it's not my fault you lost a bet. maybe you should get better luck. or better aim."

the start of your reply is cut short by luke taking his touch a little further down, running the pad of his thumb up and down the bundle of nerves right under your clit before taking it back up.

"you–ngh..."

he raises his eyebrows tauntingly, waiting for you to gather the strength to continue.

"you cheated."

he rolls his eyes. you'd been accusing luke of cheating in your one on one archery competition earlier, a stint that came about whenever you boldly claimed to have been a better archer than luke. either that wasn't true, or you were having an off day, because the two of you were engaging in luke's end of the deal.

you'd been upset about it, pouting and complaining while you took your shorts off and spread your legs to show your grey cotton panties. but as soon as luke began to touch you, even though it was above your underwear, you didn't seem all too upset.

your mouth wouldn't stop, though.

"not cheating, angel. just better than you."

you make a noise of frustration, one luke recognizes well, and he knows you would've said something back if he hadn't taken the tip of his cock and rubbed it along your slit. that instantly has you going dumb, lips parting with a satisfied sigh.

luke's attitude melts away too . he'd been setting the parameters, and not giving you his cock was apart of you losing the bet. but he'd been neglected.

in no time he has the corner of your panties lifted and his cock slipped inside. your saliva that he'd added to his fist earlier, his precum, and the arousal coating your cunt all mixes to work well enough as lubrication, providing a nice slick to allow him to slide his cock between your cunt and your panties.

you're back to complaining, begging him to just stick it in. he's not budging, focusing on getting himself closer and closer to an orgasm all while darkening the front of your underwear to a deep grey. you're writhing around, searching for more friction, trying to get luke to nudge against your clit.

he simply holds you down with one hand on your hip, the other paying the attention needed to get himself to an orgasm.

and when it comes, his head hands and he digs his fingernails into your side, letting your unsatisfied whimpers coax him through it. he fucks into your underwear a couple more times, but ultimately decides to pull out and leave his cum behind instead.

he pats the area, using his middle and pointer finger to glide his cum further down your cunt, all while ignoring the sounds you're making.

his cock is stuffed back into his boxers, he has his cargos back on, and then he's sliding your shorts back over your ass and even going as far as to buckle them back up.

he kisses your cheek then your forehead, telling you to "remember to wear them for the rest of the night", only grinning in your face whenever you call him an asshole once more. just for good measure.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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murdrdocs · 4 days

Text

oral (f receiving); one for exam season; MDNI 18+ w/ LUKE CASTELLAN

"i'm only giving myself a half hour break."

you don't know if luke's listening to you, but you're talking to him either way. he has his lips pressed into the skin of your neck, pressing kiss after kiss along your jugular as he continues his journey further down. he doesn't respond until he has your sweatshirt lifted over your head and his lips reaching for your sternum. and even then, he just hums with halfhearted affirmation.

"and ten of those minutes i need to get back to the library," you continue. this time he doesn't answer until he has your sweatpants pulled down and tossed off to the side.

"alright," he says. it's likely he doesn't even know what he's agreeing to, too focused on getting the one thing he's practically been begging for since classes ended and exams began.

he has tunnel vision aimed at the visible wet patch in the center of your panties and eager hands pushing your legs further apart. he hooks his fingertips into the waistband of your panties and delivers the same fate as the rest of your clothing onto them. and then he ogles. he swipes a finger through your slit, separating your lips and gathering your arousal in one motion, and then he slowly brings the essence to his lips.

you're about to reiterate the fact that you and luke have only 20 minutes whenever luke throws your legs over his shoulders and places his mouth over your cunt. when he'd texted about desperately needing some sort of stress relief, you assumed he meant you giving him head, or burying his cock as far into you as he could. instead, he eats you out for the entirety of the allotted time. it's not that you're complaining, but you do briefly worry about paying him back. that is until luke finally lifts his head after your second orgasm and stares at you with dopey eyes and a smile to match.

"come over tonight?" is all he says to you. you nod, trying to regain your breath while you let luke pull your panties back over your bottom.

"yeah. but i'll be at the library until late."

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan smut #celeste writes pjo

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murdrdocs · 2 months

Text

to forever always

description. LUKE CASTELLAN has never had any interest in relationships. but when he sees that look in your eyes, the same one he keeps buried deep down inside of himself, there's nothing more he wants than for you to be with him. except, maybe for you to be like him.

includes. SMUT MDNI 18+ , heavy petting, grinding, making out, dark!luke, loser!luke, dark!reader, implications to maiming, luke is a professional at longing, reader has hair long enough to be pinned back, they play simon says, typical young adult awkwardness, drinking.

wc: 5.5k+

a/n: title from forever always by the driver era. ao3 link. art creds to yazed aljohani

You’ve been at camp for nearly three months when Luke sees it in your eyes.

You’ve been unremarkable at best before then. A late arrival without a capturing story carried along with you, no captivating backstory to draw attention. You stuck to yourself mostly, only coming out of your shell when conversing during training sessions with Luke. He went out of his way to set them up, fueled by the fact that you were older than most, closest to his age, and he didn’t want you to feel left behind when some thirteen year old could easily disarm you in five minutes flat.

Truth be told, he pitied you.

As a result, he trained you four times a week, pushing your body to its limits and sharing anecdotes during your break periods to provide some sort of solace for you. Because at the end of the day, Camp Half Blood was your home. At least, that’s how it was supposed to be presented.

During his share of anecdotes, practically each story starting on that fateful day when he was fourteen, Luke left out his true feelings about the area surrounding you both. He preferred to keep you blinded with things happy enough to make you laugh, with only enough hints of the truth to make you start asking the right questions.

His attentive training has hardened you around the edges. He’s made you a little rougher, or perhaps he’s chiseled away at the stone encasing your true nature, and the person he stood next to was who you really were.

A warrior.

An animal.

Teeth bared, sword raised over the kid lying helplessly at your feet, your chest heaving with effort and a dark look in your eyes. Darker than Luke has ever seen before. It’s victorious, with a hint of a challenge in there. As if you’re daring this kid to stand up, gather his sword, and attempt to best you once more.

Surely, with the way Luke has trained you, if the kid did make an attempt he would end up in the same position in no time.

The sight is exhilarating. It makes the blood rush to Luke’s ears and his fingertips start to buzz with the fuel he’d never been able to use. But he’s in control here. And he has an image to uphold.

He calls your name, firm and demanding. The tone of a leader.

He rests a hand on the shoulder pad of your armor, pushing you back from the kid with enough force to distance you two. He fills the space created, his back to the others and his eyes cutting down at you. It takes you a second to lift your eyes to him, and when you do, when you look up at Luke—at your leader—you’re seething.

Luke really tries to hold his smile in and he’s glad that right now, you’re the only one who can see him.

“At ease. You got ‘em.”

You watch him pointedly, nostrils flared, and Luke lifts an eyebrow with a controlled movement, questioning you, daring you to challenge him.

You take a step back and rid the tension in your shoulders as you adjust your helmet.

You don’t say anything, instead sheathing your sword into its scabbard and watching Luke once more, waiting for orders.

He has trained you well.

‎

The energy around the campfire is palpable. It washes over the bodies of the campers surrounding the bonfire, settling over their skin and providing a glow. Even some of the Ares kids appear to be beaming, although they were clearly sour about another loss.

You, like everyone else, seem to be in good spirits too. A pleasant smile on your face as you watch the scene around you.

The fire burns a mesmerizing gold and Luke finds you watching it reach up toward the sky, your curious eyes taking in as much of it as you could. Your head is already tilted up, so you don’t adjust your position at all whenever Luke steps into perspective.

He stares down at you for a moment, searching for that look in your eyes. The same one he saw during capture the flag a few weeks ago.

Ever since then, Luke has developed a new fixation, one multiplied whenever he got a hit just a few days ago during training.

He’d had you on your knees then. Your chest heaving with exhaustion as you were staring up at Luke with a look so threatening that he wondered what exactly you were capable of. You were definitely at your wits end by that point, but that wasn’t when he saw it. Deep within your eyes was sincerity, maybe a bit of worry, and Luke knew that if he drew his sword down to give you a critical hit, a final blow even, you would defend yourself.

But that’s all.

He hadn’t felt the need to prepare for an opposing attack. He knew you would defend yourself, but not go for the attack. You wouldn’t hurt him. And that wouldn’t do.

So Luke laughed. He threw his head back and let out an exaggerated guffaw as he exclaimed that you looked perfect on your knees. As he insinuated that that was where you belonged. Beneath him. Beneath anyone.

His teasing did the trick. And he has a healing scar on the outside of his forearm to prove it.

Now, standing above you at the campfire, a setting so casual that it was almost sickening, Luke didn’t see any resemblance of anything challenging in your gaze.

Instead, you appear back to usual, sitting alongside a few of the Athena kids yet not actively engaging in conversation, holding a burnt marshmallow on a stick with two hands, your elbows resting on your knees as you look up at Luke with that same pleasant smile.

“This seat taken?”

He’s already sitting down as he asks it and if someone were to return, he knows they wouldn’t have attempted to reclaim their spot.

You stare over at him with amusement written all over your face.

“What if I said it was?”

Luke shrugs. He reaches over, sliding your stick out of your hand and sticking the marshmallow back into the fire. He lets it ignite, turning it over to do the same to the other side, and after a second he removes the sweet treat, extinguishes the flames, and takes a bite out of it.

You’re watching him, waiting for a response, and when you realize that he’d already given his response, you turn back to watch the fire instead.

He lets you sit in silence, slowly chewing through the sticky food as he watches the side of your face.

You look pretty like this. The amber glow of the fire illuminates your face, casting visually stunning shadows across your skin, highlighting places Luke has noticed but never appreciated until now.

He has always known you’re pretty. He’s known it since you walked into camp, confused and stunned as demigods clustered around you.

Luke remembers looking around at his fellow campers, noticing how judgmental they seemed. Because, in all honesty, you weren’t like the other people that came to Camp Half Blood. Not terrified, young, and lost in the world.

Not only were you older, but you had a certain stance to you that told Luke you weren’t confused, just curious. Your head was lifted, your shoulders pressed back as you held up the thick straps of your stuffed book bag. You were faking to be unbothered, but as you eventually confirmed Luke’s prior assumptions, you were worried.

Worried about the sea of young faces you saw. Worried that coming to Camp Half Blood at your age was a mistake.

Until your eyes met Luke’s. His dark eyes were watching you, analyzing your form for potential. Trying to find areas that could be molded into a fighter, and aspects that didn’t have to be changed one bit.

According to you, seeing Luke made you feel comfortable. Seeing Luke made you feel like coming to camp wasn’t a mistake at all.

He is glad that you arrived as well. Because before you, Luke felt alone.

He was looked up to, admired, respected, but rarely seen as just a peer.

And even further, before you got here, he hadn’t seen himself being romantic with anyone.

But now, sitting here with the gold of the fire affecting his mood in the same way he affects it, he has the sudden urge to intertwine your fingers with his or throw his arm over your shoulder. Maybe pull you into his side and plant his lips on yours, effectively claiming you as his and letting you claim him as yours.

Instead, he knocks his shoulder against yours.

“What’s got you looking so sad over there? We won today. You should be celebrating.”

You laugh a little, but it’s not one of the big and genuine ones you give him when he cracks an impressive joke.

“Give me something stronger than s'mores and maybe I’ll celebrate.”

Luke faces back towards the fire as he tells you, “that can be arranged”.

He notices you watching him from the corner of his eye. He can’t tell if you’re smiling, and if you are, if it’s one of genuine interest or one of amusement derived from misunderstanding his tone for a joke.

Either way, you hum. “Don’t tease me like that.”

He tilts his head a little. “Bold of you to assume that I’m teasing.”

He stares at you and a moment of understanding passes by.

Then, “but only if you tell me why you look so sad.”

Luke knows he’s a brave person. Hell, he took on a dragon at just seventeen and lived with nothing but a scar as a reminder. (And the plaguing nightmares but what the others didn’t know won’t hurt them)

But he feels a different form of bravery find him as he reaches a hand out, plants his thumb at the corner of your lips, and tugs upwards.

“You know what they say about turning that smile…” He lets the end of his sentence taper off, raising his eyebrows as if he expects you to finish the overdone phrase for him. It doesn’t surprise him when you swat his hand away instead.

He thinks he sees you hiding a smile when you turn away from him for a second but when you return with another marshmallow, sticking it on the end of the stick in between Luke’s hands, your face is neutral.

He thrusts the white into the burning gold as you begin to speak.

“Do you remember the first capture the flag win? When I was on defense with you?”

One side of the marshmallow ignites and Luke turns it around so the other can do the same.

“When you were taking down the others? Of course I do.”

(Luke resists the urge to add a mention of how attractive you looked then. He doesn’t know how you would take the comment in general, much less when you seem to be going through some sort of moral battle)

“Yeah.” You take a moment.

Luke takes the marshmallow out and blows on it. He lets it cool.

“I didn’t feel like myself then,” you eventually admit.

“What d’you mean?”

You shrug. “I dunno. I felt … meaner. Like–”

“Like you wanted to hurt someone?”

When you nod, you’re staring down at the ground, refusing to look up at Luke.

He doesn’t know why he does it, but he lies.

“That’s normal for demigods.”

That gets your attention. You look over at Luke with hope in your eyes, the pair shining in the light as they flicker back and forth between Luke’s own gaze.

“Really?”

Not allowed to back down now, Luke nods.

“Yeah. That rage you have within you. The need to beat someone, to be better than someone. I feel it all the time.” And that, that right there, is the stone cold truth.

He’s never admitted it to anyone else before, but with you, things feel different. He figures that this feeling he has around you is what some religious people feel in their faith. Maybe what some of the other believers at camp feel in regards to their parents.

Luke pops the marshmallow into his mouth whole.

You look relieved as you speak. He hadn’t noticed the tension in your body until it’s gone.

“So I’m not messed up?” Your voice is small, weak, insecure, almost.

Luke almost feels bad about lying to you.

Almost.

“Not any more than the rest of us.”

What he doesn’t say is: not any more than me.

As soon as his marshmallow is swallowed, he asks you to meet him later that night.

‎

Luke feels like he’s been waiting ages for you.

He’s paced a path in the dirt, twirled the small dagger he kept on him until his fingers could no longer grip the handle comfortably, and he’s started to gnaw on his bottom lip in anticipation that at this point he worries that they aren’t kissable anymore. Because no matter how much he tries to lie to himself, he invited you out to the clearing that you train in with one intention in mind.

He digs into the pocket of his cargos, searching for a second before his fingers wrap around the small tube of chapstick he got from one of his sisters. Cherry flavored, artificially so, but it still smells pleasant enough. Whenever he’d received it from her it was fresh, the seal unbroken, but since then he has used at least a quarter of its contents.

The balm glides over the broken pieces of skin, smoothing them out as best as possible, and then Luke recaps the tube and stuffs it back into his pocket.

It’s no sooner that the lip balm has found a home again that he hears the thud of a shoe against the soft ground behind him.

He doesn’t turn around, not yet. He doesn’t want to seem too eager. Instead, he twirls his knife again, a little slower this time to prevent it from slipping and falling onto the ground embarrassingly.

“Didn’t think I should’ve brought a weapon.”

Just the sound of your voice makes Luke’s insides flutter. He feels stupid, silly even, to have such a crush like this. He feels juvenile.

A smile briefly blooms across his face before he snips it off, turning around to look at you as neutrally as he can manage.

“You should always keep a weapon on you. Don’t you remember rule number one?”

Luke watches you reach behind your back for only a second before you brandish the dagger he’d given you for him to see, a triumphant smile on your lips.

“I’m a good listener. Don’t you remember?”

Proud, Luke tucks his dagger back into its holster and you do the same.

He takes a step closer to you as he proposes his next question, a hand reaching up to flick off an imaginary lash from your cheek. He doesn’t know why, but as of today he’s found himself touching you more. Searching for any reason to justify feeling your skin against his.

“How good of a listener are you?”

Your head tilts a bit, eyes squinting, and he realizes that it’s an action he does often. The implications of you picking up things from him makes his chest bloom with something. Pride, maybe?

“Try me.”

You step back, giving Luke a full view of your body.

He lets his eyes scan your frame once. Taking in your messy hair, pinned up for the night. Your sweatshirt with some school on it. Luke, not knowing much about the outside world, doesn’t know if it’s college or high school, much less its location. But it’s well worn in, clearly loved by you. You’ve paired it with a loose pair of pants, and Luke has suspicions that if he were looking at you from behind, the flowy material would perfectly outline your ass.

He clears his throat and meets your eyes again.

“Okay…” he thinks for a second. “Simon says: touch your nose.”

You snort, rolling your eyes, but then you lift your right hand, single out your pointer finger, and press it against the tip of your nose.

“Simon says: touch your toes.”

Luke watches, seeing if he’ll catch you, but you keep one hand situated on your nose and use the other to reach down to press your hand against the beat up end of your sneakers.

“Hm, okay,” Luke nods as if he’s impressed. Like you would struggle at a kids game.

“Simon says you can stop.”

You stand back up straight.

“Simon says: spin around twice.”

You spin around twice.

Instantly, without giving you a second to rest, “spin around a third time.”

You jerk for a second, but stay still in the end. Luke points, smiling a bit as if saying I almost had you.

You don’t respond but your lips curl up into a little embarrassed smile.

Luke continues giving you orders for a few moments, letting you get comfortable with the preface of “Simon says” just before he gives the final blow.

“Kiss me.”

There’s no order from Simon before it. Just Luke. He gauges your reaction. And when he sees you stay put, he tries to move on.

“Simon says–”

But then you’re walking towards him, and you’re reaching up to rest your hands on his shoulders, and you’re pulling him down to reach you better, and then you press your lips to his. It’s light, a barely there touch, and then you’re pulling away, walking back to your spot, and standing straight, waiting for your next order.

“I didn’t say Simon says.”

Proudly, you tell him, “I know.”

There’s a moment where the only noise is that of nature. Of the harmony of the world existing around this possibly unharmonious moment. The brief balance could easily be thrown off by your reaction to the next bit. If Luke were being dramatic, he would claim that your reaction determines the fate of the world, and maybe even of his mission.

He takes a breath, and then takes the plunge.

“Simon says: kiss me again.”

This time, your kiss is firmer. You’re standing on your toes a bit, overcompensating for Luke who still stands tall with his shoulders back and his head up.

Eventually, he dips his head down at the same time that he finally gets to touch you.

It’s small, nothing but a hand on your hip, but the context of it changes everything for him. He’s touched you before, brief presses of his fingers against a part of your body to emphasize a point, or correct your posture, and then earlier when he reached out for the delicate skin on your face.

Those things were friendly, that of a mentorship even.

Nothing to this degree.

You tilt your head and deepen the kiss, opening your mouth wider as you start to take control. And Luke hands it to you.

He grips the loose fabric of your pants, takes the tiniest step forward, and presses himself against you. In return, you nudge closer to him, holding the sides of his head and keeping him steady to allow yourself to explore his mouth.

He’s a little lost, he’s never gotten to this base with anyone before. Besides the time he kissed one of the Aphrodite kids as part of truth or dare years ago. But that kiss was nothing compared to this, not even on the same scale.

In this field, he’s inexperienced.

For fear of making a complete fool of himself, he simply mirrors in the form of reciprocation.

When you press your tongue into his mouth, he does the same, meeting you not quite in the middle and simply doing what you do.

There’s a moment there where you leave Luke’s lips, and he’s preparing himself to be upset when you pull away, but then your lips pucker and you suck his upper lip for just a split second, and you return to kissing him like his knees didn’t just get a little weak.

Fortunately, the slight lapse presses his crotch against yours again, and you suck in a breath when Luke accidentally grinds his boner into you.

Sensing that it’s something good, and satisfied that he’s not the only one as aroused as he is, he does it again. This time intentionally.

He frees his grip on your pants to move his palms around, pressing into the top of your ass and the end of your back, pulling you closer to bump your crotches.

This time, you do peel away from his lips completely, but it’s to let out the prettiest sound Luke has ever heard.

Your eyebrows are pinched together a bit, your lips shining in the torch light and parted.

You’ve only been apart for a couple of seconds, but Luke is on you again.

He sacrifices the grip he has on your lower half to stretch his hand along the connection of the back of your skull and neck, fingers spreading as far as the tip of your spine to an inch into your scalp.

He lets go of the insecurities he has in his lack of experience and just kisses you. His immediate intention isn’t to take control from you. Rather, it’s just to have you as close to him as possible.

You respond eagerly. Arching into him, slinking your arms over his shoulders, pressing your hands into the muscles along his back. At one point, you lift your leg and nudge your knee against Luke’s side by way of getting even closer to him. The position change allows the first real touch of your centers together and your head falls back, exposing the pretty sight of your jugular to him.

There’s a moment there where Luke has the urge to wrap his hand around it. But he fears what your reaction would be so he flexes his hand, and lets the thought evaporate into the stiff night air.

Luke knows that he feels as he does because of the hormones swirling throughout his body, but he has the feeling that he can trust you. Really trust you. Enough to tell you everything he’s ever wanted to tell anybody.

“Do you trust me?” He says it to you, his hand pulling your head back towards his, your lips mere centimeters a part.

You nod, the tip of your nose nudging against his with each movement.

Luke kisses you once, then tells you, “the gods, they–”.

He doesn’t have a spiel planned, but his need to tell you everything has him covered. He knows that once he starts, he won’t be able to stop. Not until you understand your parents as he does.

You put an unexpected dent into Luke’s poorly conceived plan when you shake your head.

“Don’t wanna hear about the gods right now, Luke. Just wanna kiss you.”

And the way you say it, like it’s something you need rather than just want, makes Luke abide completely.

His free hand slips under your shirt, pressing his palm flat against your torso, and giving himself the first real press of skin on skin. He sighs, pulling away from your lips to knock his forehead against yours.

He slides his hand up until he finds where your bra would sit. But he doesn’t run into any more material. Instead, he reaches a hill, one he nudges his thumb against, reaching up until he finds the beginning of your areola. Then, as if he’s realizing that he’s going further than he should be, he pulls his head away and looks at you.

“Is this…?” The question makes him feel vulnerable. If he finishes it, he bares his wants out to you. And he knows that you have done the same for him already, but he doesn’t feel ready to invite the possibility of rejection.

So instead, he raises his eyebrows and waits for you to catch on.

You nod, biting down onto your lower lip. Your hands begin to search, too, leaving behind the sides of Luke’s face to tickle through the grown out hairs at the back of his head.

What follows is the most carnal display of want that Luke has ever been part of.

He starts by tweaking your nipples, applying light pressure and then smoothing it out when you moan. He watches your reactions to try and figure out what to do next, but luckily you end up pulling his hand away yourself, leading it to the elastic waistband of your pants. You look at him pleadingly, not needing to say what you want for Luke to take initiative.

Luckily, the favor is returned.

You unbutton his jeans, pull them down just enough, and reach a hand into the fabric, touching along the gingham pattern of his briefs.

There’s not much coordination to it at all, but it doesn’t seem to bother either of you. From how Luke sees it, you’re equal amounts of eager, pressing against each other in multiple areas as if you’re both attempting to fuse your bodies together.

In the excitement of it all, Luke accidentally bumps the heel of his palm against your center. He assumes that it would have hurt you, so he’s close to apologizing.

Until you moan.

That’s all it takes for Luke to push away the rest of his pride and insecurities. He takes a breath.

“Will you … can you show me what to do? How to make you feel good?”

Your reply is instant. “Two fingers.”

He singles out his pointer and middle finger.

“And then go...” You wrap your fingers around his wrist, pulling his touch up to find something that his fingers catch on, a bundle of nerves that apparently feels good for you. You nod, sighing out a small “right there”.

He feels a little dumb when he asks, “What do I do now?”

“Rub. Circles are best, but side to side works too.”

So that’s what he does.

He starts slow at first, the circles a little wide, but they feel good for you. You’re nodding, eyes fluttering shut a bit. You return your hand to Luke, pressing over his dick, and then sliding a little further down until you reach his balls.

He tries to hide his sound, but a hitch of his breath comes out anyway.

There’s a tree stump just behind you, a product of an accident Luke has yet to tell you about, but you direct him towards it, standing over him for a second when he falls back to sit on it. The two of you have sat on the stump a few times before, but never in this capacity.

Luke watches you climb over him, straddling his hips, and pushing your crotches together.

Then, you grind.

One of Luke’s hands finds your ass, the other reaches back to connect with what’s left of the tree, reclining his position just enough to provide more room. He lets you do the rest, spurring you on with little nods and small breaths.

It’s not like you can see him, not when your eyes are pinched shut.

Luke wants to join you. His eyes threaten to close and submerge him in a void that would enhance every single feeling. But closing his eyes means getting rid of this sight. And he never wants to forget what you look like right now.

There’s sweat beading along your hairline and running down the side of your face. Your face is one of relaxation, save for the tiniest crease of concentration between your eyebrows. Luke can tell that you’re warm, and not just by the perspiration. But clearly his training has been paying off because your body doesn’t show fatigue. Your muscles are still taunt, your movements are still languid. You don’t show any plans of stopping anytime soon.

And at first, that’s what Luke wants.

There’s a few moments where he’s lost in oblivion. Where he pictures the worst thing in the world happening, and it’s you getting off of him. The feeling is so delicious, your centers grinding together, bumping clumsily yet still working in both of your favors.

He doesn’t want it ever to end.

And then he cums.

Again, he tries to hide the sounds he makes. But a groan rips through his throat, jumping out of his mouth and falling directly onto the fabric of your shirt when he rests his forehead against your chest.

He uses you as an anchor, his big hands gripping any part of you that he can find. He grips your clothes as he attempts to tether himself to the here and now.

He’s huffing, spent even though he did none of the work. Eventually, he lifts his head to search for your lips, but then he winces when you keep going.

He’s speaking in fragments. He’s trying to communicate his sensitivity. But you only shake your head, speeding your hips up a bit more.

“Sorry, ‘m sorry. I’m almost there. Swear, Luke. I swear…” and it’s just then that Luke is presented with the prettiest image he’s ever seen.

When his lips are numb and there’s a wet patch pressing against his sensitive cock in his briefs, Luke remembers the alcohol he has stashed within a bush.

He presents it, feeling that same sense of pride spread through his chest whenever you seem delighted at the options, even though it’s just a box of hard seltzer one of his brothers snuck in at the beginning of the summer. When you ask him what it took to secure it, Luke brushes it off, not wanting to remember the poop scooping he’d doomed himself to.

But the sight of you grinning before bringing the first sip of a cracked open can to your lips makes it all worth it.

When you pull it away a bead of clear liquid snags on the corner of your lips. Luke’s eyes watch it glide down your chin, and before he can stop himself he reaches a hand out, once again feeling that bravery, and swipes his thumb at the liquid.

He brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks it clean, surprisingly pleased at the flavor.

You both make your way through multiple cans, and it’s only when there’s a slight slur to your words and a sway to your frame that you ask Luke about your parents. And not about the stories you’ve been told throughout school, or the glorious recounts about how they’ve helped their kids. But the truth. About how Luke feels.

And he turns to you, smiling gently, and begins to tell you, becoming more and more pleased as you begin to express the same outrage as him.

He doesn't have to question if you'll be a valuable ally. He doesn't have to feed you carefully worded lines to twist your mind into siding with him.

With you, it's natural. The same as it is with him.

‎

It’s exactly a week later. Another capture the flag day created a certain buzz that flowed throughout camp.

Earlier this morning, Luke was concerned about winning. That was before he found himself in a similar position as he did weeks ago.

Standing next to you in a clearing, no other campers around to witness something that will certainly be a sight to behold.

Just like before, you’re standing over a camper with your sword raised over his frightened frame. He’s pleading, but his words are useless. They fall to deaf ears.

“No maiming!” He exclaims. “It’s the rules, remember?” His words are spoken with a stutter, the tremor in his voice extremely obvious.

Briefly, Luke looks over to you only to find you already looking at him.

You’re waiting, body tense, ready to attack. All you need is the command.

“Do it.”

There’s a rip and a scream, and Luke’s eyes don’t leave your frame.

He watches the splatter of blood meet your cheek and for once, Luke doesn’t reach over to wipe it away. He leaves it there, leaving the evidence behind as he cups your face delicately, spreading his fingers to miss the crimson, and then using his hold to pull you close and press his lips to yours.

Easily, quickly, you submit to him.

You two haven’t shared things in the most intimate form, not yet at least, but he doesn’t need that with you. Looking in your eyes, seeing that same look that he sees in himself, Luke knows that having your legs spread around his hips with euphoria isn’t the most necessary thing in the world. He would love for it to happen, and he will revel in it when it does happen, but he knows that fucking you isn’t needed to guarantee your loyalty to him.

As you submit to him, smelling of musk derived from hard work, the evidence of your effort on your face, Luke knows that he’s already secured it.

He has your loyalty.

And he can’t shake the excitement he feels towards your potential. Because he knows that the fire blazing deep inside of you can’t be contained for much longer.

He just hopes your internal fire continues to work in his favor and never against it.

#lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #dark!luke #celeste writes pjo #luke castellan smut

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