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belovedmusings · 6 months

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“I’m not going anywhere.”

+ MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS +

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

Satoru survived being severed in half thanks to Yuuta’s Reversed Curse Technique and subsequently claimed victory, but you keep reliving the moment you saw him die before your eyes. You wake up beside him one night crying from a nightmare of it, and wanting to make you feel better and remind you that he’s okay and he’s not going anywhere, he lets you take him any way you need him.

Relevant tags: AFAB reader with minimal gendered language, reader insert without using “y/n”, graphic nightmare at the beginning but it’s quick, fix-it, hurt/comfort, soft and emotional sex, handjob, fingering, Satoru’s 6-inch fingers, slow sex, praises and declarations of love, lots of kissing, love bites, riding, unprotected sex, creampie, cockwarming, Satoru’s big cock :’) <3

Music recommended while reading: My Love (Sia), positions (Ariana Grande), Souvenir (Selena Gomez), Religion (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: no I’m absolutely not over wtf happened in ch 236 and yes I’m 100% crazy enough to still believe him when he said he’d win. He’ll win and I trust him. I have to or I’ll go crazy. Here’s this emotional smut to cope.

Read below cut:

He was winning. He was fine, he was smiling and now—

He’s not. He’s not moving, he’s not doing anything but he’s in half he’s in fucking half and there’s so much blood—

You scream. You scream but it sounds like it’s underwater and you can’t breathe, you can’t feel anything but despair and pain and dread and anger and disbelief and fucking devastation. Satoru is— he’s— oh god, he’s—

“Hey.”

You’re sobbing. Tears stream from your eyes but you can’t feel, you can’t see anything, you can’t hear, you can’t exist without him—

“Hey. Hey, hey, hey.”

That voice snaps you back to consciousness, a deep gasp from you following. Warm hands are on your shoulders, and you look up at the source, eyes landing upon Satoru’s concerned face. His beautiful, alive face. What? How?

“Hey,” he murmurs again softly, brows furrowed in worry as he rubs up and down your arm soothingly. “Shh, shh, shh…you’re okay. It was just a bad dream.”

A dream?

“No it wasn’t,” you shake your head, voice broken. The lump in your throat won’t go away as you continue to cry. “You were…you were gone and I—”

“I’m right here,” he cuts him firmly, squeezing your arm. “Look at me. I’m talking to you, aren’t I? I’m fine. Promise.”

Your eyes search his face, his body, and blindly you reach out, touching his clothed abdomen, feeling over it to make absolutely sure he’s not lying. When you feel nothing but solid, warm flesh underneath, even when you touch down to his thigh, you relax, sniffling. He’s completely intact. He’s okay.

You remember then what had happened after he had fallen. You’d gone into a panic, threw up, and blacked out after sobbing uncontrollably after tearing your eyes from the screen that displayed his lifeless body.

When you woke up, you were lying against a wall, Shoko watching over you, telling you that Yuuta managed to get ahold of him while Yuuji and Higuruma were fighting Sukuna. He’d used his Reversed Curse Technique to heal him, and he was up and fighting again, this time facing off with Kenjaku.

It was jarring to see him back alive, like you were seeing the resurrection of a god. But it was okay. He was even stronger than before, and along with the others, he was capable of defeating both of the threats.

His victory had restored balance once more.

He’d come off of that battlefield on his own two feet, sweaty, heavily banged up and exhausted, but he had a brilliant smile on his face that said everything is fine now, and he’d welcomed you into his arms without hesitation.

“Oh god,” you breathe out, “It was a dream. Thank god.”

He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you in, planting a kiss on your temple.

“I told you I’d win, didn’t I?” He asks, “You gotta trust me, silly. M’ not going anywhere.”

You huff, nuzzling into his chest. “Don’t call me silly because I’m worried about you.”

He sighs softly, rubbing your back. “Fine, fine. But seriously, I’m fine. So no need to worry, okay? I’m right here, however you need me.”

He is. You can feel him in your arms, you can feel him holding you, and yet in your sleep-fogged mind, you can’t help but still retain some anxiety that you’ll wake up again and he’ll be gone for good. That you imagined all of those victories in order to cope. You need to feel more of him to confirm he’s real.

“However I need you?” You ask, drawing back to meet his eyes, gleaming in the dim lighting of the moon. He nods.

“Of course. What kind of boyfriend would I be otherwise? I’m yours to do with as you please.”

You can’t help it; his tone always brings out a special playfulness in you. “As I please? You sound so easy.”

“Easy for you,” he grins wolfishly, and you roll your eyes fondly before sobering up.

“I need more reassurance,” you tell him. “I want to feel you.”

He eyes you curiously, nodding. “Sure thing. What do you have in mind?”

You reach up to touch his face, brushing your thumb between his eyebrows to work out the furrow, then dancing it over his brow bone, then his cheekbone, and finally his lips. You pad it over the soft skin there before leaning up and kissing him, relaxing at the familiar taste of his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate to return the gesture, lips moving with yours in a combination of slow and sensual.

The hand that was resting on his jaw slowly travels down over his neck, where your thumb runs over the column gently, grazing his Adam’s apple a few times before moving on to his collarbone. You explore that spot for a few moments and then massage down his shoulder, over his pec, flattening your palm to feel the beat of his heart.

It calms you to feel that strong thump thump thump against your touch, impassioning you enough to make you deepen the kiss and slip your tongue into his protestless mouth. A soft groan sounds at the back of his throat, and that spurs you on to continue touching him, running your palm over his muscles that were once lithe, but after time spent preparing for battle while he was sealed away to occupy himself, have turned thick and solid. You ghost over the ridges of his abdomen and shiver, feeling each contour through his shirt.

It sends a wave of heat through you and your ministrations turn heavy with desire, finding the hem of his shirt, sliding your hand underneath it and massaging over the hot skin of his naked chest. He groans and guides his own hand from your waist to your ass, clad only in underwear for comfort to sleep, giving it a generous knead.

“Mmh,” you breathe into his mouth, letting him go further to grab your thigh, hooking his hand under your knee and hiking your leg up around his hip.

His tongue runs over yours dirtily as his hand slides back up to the apex of your legs, reaching around to cup your mound through the thin garment over it. His middle and ring fingers massage over that little sensitive pearl just begging to be touched, making you moan softly.

Your lust is deepening by the second and it makes you grow bolder, palm on his abdomen lowering to the front of his boxers and caressing the sizable hardness it finds there. Subconsciously you start to move your hips with his touches, kiss turning sloppy the more you pleasure each other.

The drags of his fingertips get a little too difficult when the fabric over your core gets soaked through, so he easily amends it by slipping his fingers beneath the edge of the article, touching you without any barriers.

“Satoru,” you moan louder as he teases the swollen pearl beneath his digits. He hums in his throat, and wanting to even things out, your hand dips below his boxers, wrapping around the hard and hot erection he’s been sporting since you started kissing him.

A bead of precum at his tip makes the slide a little easier and you feel him start rocking into your hand, meeting your strokes, a breathy groan sounding from him.

He wants the upperhand, of course, so he elects to push two of his lengthy fingers into your entrance, causing you to gasp, spreading your legs wider to accommodate. The man’s digits are long enough to reach your cervix without even trying and he presses pointedly against it, wriggling the tips of his fingers against that sensitive spot teasingly.

“God, Satoru,” you mewl, touching him with more purpose, circling your thumb over his tip.

“Ngh,” he groans in response, moving his hand so that he starts finger-fucking you at a pace, the wet sounds reaching your ears along with the heavy pants from the both of you. You clench around him and he speeds up, abusing that part deep inside of you just with his hand.

You love it when he fingers you but it’s not what you want right now—not truly.

You look up at him, shuddering at the look of unbridled lust pooling in his cerulean eyes. He always gets this certain wild look that gives you goosebumps.

“Satoru,” you manage breathlessly.

“Yeah?” He asks, just as winded.

“I want you inside me. I need to feel you.”

He sucks in a breath and nods, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before pulling his fingers out of you. He rolls to lay on his back, raising his hand up to his mouth and running his long tongue over the digits coated in your essence, a deep groan sounding after. It invigorates your desire for him and hurriedly, you remove your soaked underwear, freeing him of his own boxers afterward.

He sits up for a moment to get his shirt off, tossing it off the bed and then grabbing your hips, making you straddle his thighs. His hands hook under your shirt and you raise your arms so that he can remove it, the two of you now bare as the day you were born.

He wastes no time in kissing you again, this time more desperately, using one hand to guide your hips over his large cock, the other holding it still. He slides inside as you lower yourself, girth forcing you to stretch generously.

“Fuck,” you breathe into his mouth. You’re familiar with his impressive size by now but it never ceases to light a fire with your nerve-endings, length stuffing you full even before he’s bottomed out. You shudder and push him down to lay out on the bed, following him, breaking the kiss to bury your face in the crook of his neck. His palms grip the tops of your thighs as you lay on his chest, your skin touching everywhere. He’s so warm and sturdy beneath you, you feel like you could stay like this forever, tucked into him, split open on his dick, nestled deep inside you without any effort. You breathe in and get hit with the scent of his skin, musky and sweet in a way that’s unique only to him and completely intoxicating to you.

You push your nose more greedily into the column of his neck, moaning as he starts rolling both of your hips together slowly. Like this, his abdomen provides the perfect firm muscle to grind your swollen pearl on, heightening your pleasure.

He bends his legs to provide himself with a little barrier so that when he pushes your hips down, they don’t have anywhere to go, forcing you to take his cock deeper. It prods at your cervix and forces hot chills over your body, your hands bracing on his shoulders helplessly as he does all of the work.

You inhale deeply as he grinds up into you, walls fluttering around him, eliciting a groan from his syrupy voice.

It sends a shiver through you and wanting to chase it, you flick your tongue out over his collarbone, licking along the flesh to taste him.

“Oh,” he grunts, sucking air through his teeth as you feel him twitch inside of you. Encouraged from his response, you do it again, closing your lips around the spot and sucking. A stuttered breath is pulled from him, your hold on his arms tightening.

Like this, you just feel so safe, so content. He’s all you could ever need. Sure, he’s insufferable sometimes and his personality goes overboard naturally, but he’s never too much for you. He’s serious when he needs to be and so sincere in his sweetness, in his affection—you don’t know what you’d do without him. You thank any god that might exist along with the stars that he survived, that he prevailed and that everything is fine now. Your chest swells with all of the gratitude in the world and it spills over.

“Satoru,” you breathe, feeling tears prick at your eyes, “I love you so much.”

You feel him swallow thickly as his hands rub comfortingly up and down the expanse of your back, kisses being pressed to the top of your head.

“Me too, baby,” he replies softly, voice slightly strained with the distraction of heat around his cock. “I feel the exact same way about you.”

You sigh shakily, littering sloppy, wet kisses over his neck, starting to roll your hips in time with his.

“I’m always gonna be here,” he continues between labored pants, “You…you can’t get rid of me. Mmh—you’re stuck with me for life.”

Your kisses begin to be accompanied by involuntary whimpers, the sensation of him locked inside of you along with his smooth skin rubbing against your sensitive bud starting to overwhelm you.

“I’m gonna…h-hah…love you so much you’ll be annoyed with me,” he continues, sucking air through his teeth, “oh fuck…so glad I have you. I really am.”

You sniffle, a watery smile spreading over your lips. A few tears escape your eyes but this time they’re of joy.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you say with your entire soul.

“Nothing can keep me down for long,” he assures you, “I promise, okay? I promise.”

You nod against his neck, moaning when he speeds up, hands controlling your movements to meet him thrust for thrust.

“Sh-shit, Satoru,” you mewl, feeling your climax start to approach. His breathing gets heavier and more ragged, chest rising and falling so prominently that it jostles you on top of him, indicating that he’s just as wrecked as you are.

“Fuck, I’m close,” he exhales thinly, “Oh shit, shit, god you’re so tight…I’m gonna…”

You choke on a gasp, eyes squeezing shut. He always rambles when he’s nearing his finish, control on his words slipping, and you think it’s the hottest thing in the world.

“Ngh,” he gasps out, guiding you faster on top of him. You clench at the feeling, nearing the peak—“oh fuck, it’s gonna, it’s—a-ah, ah, fuck…”

You feel exactly when he cums, cock twitching hard as he spills against the entrance to your womb. The feeling of release pouring coupled with his incessant grinding on your mound pushes you to climax, a full body shudder taking over you as you tighten around his member.

He groans at the feeling, giving you another spurt of release, hands moving up to hug you close, pressing his cheek to your forehead.

“That was so good,” he breathes.

You nod in agreement, kissing his neck once more.

You know this is the part where you get off of him so you can clean up to get back to sleep, but you don’t want to move at all. You’re completely sated now, and the feeling of his softening cock inside of you is comforting. Undeniable proof that he’s right here with you in the form of a dull stretch in your core.

“Let’s stay like this,” you tell him, and he chuckles softly.

“It’s just that good, isn’t it?”

You snort softly, raising up to meet his eyes. “You’re such a little shit.”

His smile is lazy and mirthful. “Ah, but I’m your little shit. By law you have to deal with me forever, sorry.”

He shrugs in a way that indicates he’s not sorry at all, and your grin widens.

“I’m happy to deal with you forever.”

His beautiful face is radiant with the next smile he gives you, and when your lips meet in a soft kiss, you realize that all of the anxiety and fear that nightmare had left you with has been melted away.

Satoru is real, and he’s okay. He really isn’t going anywhere. He’s safe and warm and set to live a long and happy life by your side.

When the kiss ends you lay back down on his chest, and he takes to drawing invisible circles over your back with his fingertips, the steadiness of his breath, the sureness of his heartbeat, and his comforting scent all lulling you to a peaceful sleep with the promise of his presence tomorrow.

___

A/N: I actually miss him so much to the point where it’s debilitating. I’m literally a widow at this point I might as well put a picture of him in a fuckin locket and wear it like he sent it in his last letter to me, like Gege u bitch that was our husband

Please don’t repost my work but feel free to reblog/share. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed :)

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lockewrites · 7 months

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Reader giving Halsin a massage

Reader (gender not specified) x Halsin || Semi-NSFW (suggestive) || 1332 words AO3

POST-GAME SPOILERS FOR HALSIN

From @thecaptainsassistant (it won't let me properly tag you D:) - Hi, I saw you posted recently about HalsinxReader oneshots and was wondering if you'd be willing to write one with a human femReader ranger giving Halsin a back-rub (can be any degree of citrus rating you like). Have a lovely day!

You find yourself watching him without meaning to, your eyes often idly drifting to his form whenever he’s near and his attention is not yours to claim. A book had been keeping you company for some time as you sought quiet from the bustle of refugees attempting to reclaim some semblance of stability in Thaniel’s realm, but Halsin rarely stops for breath. Constantly hurrying from place to place, ensuring all were taken care of; exhausting to watch, let alone experience, but it warms your heart all the same… as well as casts worry in your mind.

Hunched over his desk, his hand moves fiercely back and forth as he pens his thoughts and plans, always anticipating the next step, the possible consequences, whose skills would suit the task best. The quill against the scroll echoes in the room, and you can’t help but shake your head. He simply never stops.

The book closes with a soft thump, and you place it on the end table before approaching Halsin. As you near, his posture shifts, straightening and turning slightly to glance at you from the corner of his gaze. Even with the weight of this new responsibility, the distractions and obligations, he never loses sight of you.

“What is it, my heart?” he asks, the scratching of the quill finally halting.

You rest your backside against the edge of his desk and look down at him, one of the few times you don’t need to crane your neck to meet his hazel eyes. Reaching out, your fingers cup his jaw, your palm on his chin as your thumb trails across his lips. Gaze taking him in, you note the shadows beneath his eyes, the tinge of pink in his sclera, and a new heaviness in the rise and fall of his breaths.

“You need to rest,” you say, voice quiet yet firm.

“I will,” he replies as he presses a fleeting kiss against your thumb.

“Now,” you insist, gripping his chin gently, as if to punctuate the word.

Halsin smiles, but it’s not enough to hide the weariness that holds him. He places the quill in the inkpot as his other hand rests on your thigh; you know the movement well, an attempt at distracting you from your concerns. Not a promise of intimacy, as that would draw him away from his duties, but an intimate enough gesture he knows has an effect on you. You can’t think of your worry for him if you’re too focused on his touch, what those fingers have done, what those fingers could do.

Your eyes flicker to his hand before returning to his gaze; your expression is wholly unimpressed.

“I will be finished shortly,” he promises.

He’s an honest man and would typically never dare make such false utterances toward you, but the integrity is pliant when it comes to his own well-being. It’s a lie he’s told you numerous times, and after the first few, you learned it’s never ‘shortly.’

You’re not without your own techniques, however. Pushing off the desk, you step behind him, your hand sliding down his neck and resting just beneath his collarbones as the other joins it; your arms around him, his warmth spilling into your chest as you embrace him from behind.

His muscles shift beneath you as he leans back and places his hands over yours, the tautness in his movements noticeable even through your clothing.

You slip your hands from his and move them to his shoulders, giving a tentative squeeze before kneading the hard flesh under your fingers.

An involuntary groan escapes him, his head falling forward in an instant.

“It’ll take me longer if you continue distracting me,” he warns, though the way his head sways ever-slightly as your fingers work at his stressed muscles betrays the insincerity in his words.

A smile plays on your lips, knowing he won’t deny you much longer. Halsin had always been so pliant under your touch, though it wasn’t until more recently you had realized. Leaning down, your lips press against the back of his neck, the sun-kissed skin warm and filling your senses with hints of oak and herbs; you breathe him in, the scent having become your home after all you’d been through.

Your hands continue massaging away his stress, earning you more poorly stifled moans. He’s losing this battle, and you both know it.

Halsin’s loose hair falls over your fingers as his head tips backward; he looks at you with that hazel gaze, his eyes holding a mix of adoration and exasperation.

With a smirk, you lower your face to his, claiming a kiss that he immediately melts into.

“Come on,” you insist after you pull away. “And I’ll finish what I started.”

He blinks at you a few times before sighing and pushing away from the desk.

Taking his hand, you lead him to the bed but stop him before he can sit. You undo the laces of his tunic, pushing the fabric to the floor and exposing his beautiful torso. After a greedy glance, you motion for him to lie down as you pull a bottle of oil from your nightstand.

“On your stomach.” Your voice is soft but commanding, and he obeys with a chuckle.

Once he’s settled, you climb onto the bed and straddle his thick waist, letting most of your weight rest against him.

“Not often I’m the one face down on the bed,” Halsin remarks, and though you can’t see it, you hear the smile in his voice.

You hum and tilt your head, admiring him beneath you. “It’s quite a view,” you reply as you rub the oil between your fingers.

The smell of lavender and orchid fills the air as you press your fingers into his skin; it doesn’t take long to find knots, the weight of rebuilding Reithwin and caring for those brought over from Baldur’s Gate heavy on his broad shoulders. While the land healed and continues to do so, and Halsin and you escape the town on occasion and venture into the land’s wilderness, it’s not quite enough to free either of you, but especially Halsin, of the constant worries that come with such a responsibility.

He doesn’t speak, and other than his occasional relaxed hum that vibrates beneath your hands, the room is quiet. Peaceful and withdrawn enough that it feels as though you two are in your own world, and you adore these moments. Halsin is hesitant to express such sentiments, but you know he would have collapsed under the pressure he places upon himself if not for these escapes.

You pay no mind to the time past, only stopping once your fingers and arm risk giving out.

He peeks backward at you. “Finished already?” he teases as you shake out your arms.

There was once a time he’d have fought you on pampering him so, but it was a fight he soon conceded when he learned you would never give up and it makes you happy; not to mention, it provides an excuse for him to return the favor, though he rarely needs one as he’s always seeking ways to pleasure you, whether innocently or intimately.

His back arches in, the muscles rippling as he stretches under you. Your legs lift you upward as you move to get off him, and in a moment, he flips onto his back and grabs your hips, forcing you to stay in place. For such a large elf, you never cease to be amazed at how dexterously he moves.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Halsin asks, smirking and raising a brow.

Tilting your head, you return the smile. “I figured you’d want to get right to sleep after such an exhaustive massage.”

His eyebrows shift and furrow, his fingers sliding down across your thighs and sending immediate heat through you.

“First,” he begins, his eyes traveling up your body, only serving to fill your cheeks with warmth, “I must show my thanks properly.”

#halsin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin x tav #halsin x reader #reader x halsin #tav x halsin #halsin bg3 #bg3 halsin #baldur's gate #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #//I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMFG but it was so fun to write :3 #alxxiis actually wrote something #fic: treasures the night bestows

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sailoryooons · 3 months

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Shadow of Mine | Teaser | KTH

☾ Pairing: Demon!Taehyung x human!reader

☾ Summary: As one of the few humans in the world without a guardian angel to protect you, you’ve learned to take care of yourself - until you realize that perhaps you haven’t been as alone as you always thought.

☾ Word Count: TBD

☾ Genre: Supernatural, angst, smut

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: TBD

☾ A/N: This was written from this writing prompt by @writing-prompt-s for the Angels and Demons Fest! Hoping to get this out in the next week or so! Happy WIP Wednesday!

Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

COMING SOON

“How can you harm other people if they have guardian angels, then?” you demand, the spatula in your hand pointed at the man. “What can hurt a guardian angel?”

His grin is wicked and mischievous. He leans forward on the counter and you take a step back, watching as he runs one long, ringed finger through the cake batter and brings it up to his rosebud lips. You stare intently as his tongue snakes out, licking the batter sensually before he wraps his lips around the finger and sucks.

Your stomach flips and you mentally curse yourself, ashamed at how attractive you find it.

“I’m an Arch Demon,” he purrs, a smirk on his face. He looks you up and down. “Guardian angels are only two steps above the cherubim. They’re a match for most things that want to do unseemly things to humans, but certainly not me.”

“What the fuck is an Arch Demon?”

“My mother is one of the Seven Kings of Hell.”

“King?”

“We don’t care so much about gender titles. That’s a human construct.”

“Right.” You hesitate, spatula wavering as your arm grows tired. “What’s your name then, Mr. Arch Demon of Hell?”

“Taehyung.” He eyes your spatula. “And put that down. I cannot harm you any more than you can harm me. I am your shadow, Blue. And you are mine.”

“Blue?”

“The song you like to sing. Blue, oh so lonesome for you.”

Taehyung's voice is beautiful. A haunting baritone that is smooth as velvet and makes your eyes flutter. You hardly expect a demon's singing voice to be so lovely - perhaps crackle and flames - but it's immediately soothing.

Except.

You blink, realizing Taehyung means the LeAnn Rimes song that you put on and sing when you’re feeling more alone than ever. The information makes your throat tighten and you slowly lower the spatula in your hand, staring at the demon who watches you with equal parts curiosity and something that looks like sadness.

If he knows that you like to sing that song…

“Were you always there, then?” He cocks his head to the side. “Since I was a child? You were there?”

“Of course. Your life began, thus did mine. It is the way of the world, sometimes. Many demons are-”

“Get out.”

#taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v smut #bts v #demon taehyung #taehyung angst #angels and demons fest #wip wednesday

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shaynesthetic · 2 months

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The only thing I think I got right | Luke Castellan

Word Count: 10.2k

A "Better Unknown" AU oneshot

Main Series: Better Unknown

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Minor God! Half-Blood! Gender Neutral MC

Synopsis: Out of everything that Luke thought he fucked up his entire life, Y/N leaving him where he stood was the ultimate fuck up he wishes he hadn’t. How can he fix this? And will he be able to?

Tags: Two idiots, mutual pining, Best friends to lovers, fluff, angst with comfort

Warning: Little beta- reading, foul language

Banner by @/cafekitsune

A/N: Hello once again! This was a last-minute idea that's why I'm a little late. Happy Valentines Day! Or belated Valentines' Day if it's already the 15th for you like it is for me. Once again, English is not my first language so apologies for any grammatical errors. Critiques are always welcomed.

A/N: Also, I correct some stuff whenever I see fit sometimes. So if anyone sees any errors, no you didn't. Also also, as of February 16, 2024, I have updated the ending.

It was the month everyone either despised or loved; It was Aphrodite’s month. A.K.A Valentines. February was always Camp Half-Blood's busiest month. With nymphs making sure every tree was lush and perfect, satyrs helping Demeter kids with preparing and picking the ripest strawberries, Aphrodite kids running around the camp supervising preparations for a feast to be held in honor of their mother alongside some Hermes and Hephaestus kids who were tasked on helping them, with a small fee of dessert that is.

Half of the campers were hanging out with their friends today, grateful that they could finally have a day to themselves, either by canoeing on the lake or having picnics in front of the beautiful views the Hill can give them. Younger campers made heart-shaped letters in the arts and crafts center to send to either their parent or the person they wanted to confess to. Others were practicing the lyre, particularly the Apollo kids, who were asked to help serenade confessing individuals, once again, with a small fee of their food portions, drachmas, and other privileges.

Then there was Y/N. Along with some Ares kids, they were on the training grounds, passing the time. It wasn't that Y/N was a bitter gremlin on Valentine's or anything, it was just that they treated it just like any other day. Why need a day to celebrate your love for others when you can do that every day? Was their philosophy. Truth be told, ever since their mom's passing, they just didn't see the point in celebrating. But that was before coming to Camp Half-Blood. They didn't celebrate arriving in camp either, don't get them wrong…but at least they weren’t alone. It wasn’t like the Ares kids were bitter gremlins either; they just didn’t care. Well, they claim they don’t. But you’ll have to take their word on it.

Y/N was with Clarisse and one of her other siblings, Mark, who insisted on joining them. Clarisse was helping Y/N with the spear, also with a small fee (why would anyone work for free nowadays anyway?). They have been sparring for a few hours, and none have yet to let down. Perks of being the Ares kid and a minor god, respectively. Another sparring session commenced and Mark just watched as their sibling and Y/N hit blow after blow with each other. The clashing of wood and iron made the air sting with adrenaline, and both took advantage of it.

The dropping of the spear took Mark off his apparent disassociation, and the scene came into view. Y/N was on the ground, with Clarisse pointing a spear to their neck, one minor move from Y/N and Clarisse could nick them. Y/N, out of breath, smiled and looked up at the girl, before nodding and raising their hands in complete surrender. "Alright, Clarisse. You got me." The child of Ares cackled victoriously at them, Mark in the background cheering. Y/N got up and brushed the dust off their clothes.

“You’re kinda getting good. You still suck but the sparring’s getting you somewhere.” Give it to Clarisse for giving compliments, if you can call it a compliment. But Y/N took it as one. It was a rare occurrence for the Ares cabin’s head counselor to give compliments to other cabins, but for some odd reason, Y/N was an exception. Well, it wasn’t THAT odd. Y/N and Clarisse were best friends, and other campers find that awfully odd. But to Y/N, they were odd to begin with and everything in their life, from the Gods to prophecies to quests are too, so who cares? Being friends with the biggest bully and their other siblings in the camp was the least of their worries.

Y/N rolled their eyes at Clarisse before shoving their hands in their jean pockets, making their way to a hay bale, and plopping down on it. Clarisse sat next to them, looking at the spear in their hands. “Any plans for the Goddess of Love’s Day?” Y/N asks out of the blue. Clarisse only stared at them before she started laughing with malice. Is it malice? Y/N couldn’t tell.

“What do you think, Ease?” Clarisse smirked as Y/N blushed at the nickname. It was a nickname given by Y/N’s other best friend, Luke, the son of Hermes. It was a nickname to embody what Y/N was to Luke, as he claims. Ever since the duo came back to camp after a particularly harrowing quest, Luke never had any troubles with sleeping and claimed Y/N had everything to do with it. Y/N begged to disagree, although they weren't going to admit he was right. Ever since, that nickname stuck like glue. Luke took every second embarrassing them with the nickname. It secretly infuriated them, but Y/N knew it had to be endearing, so they let it go. Y/N had a weird set of friends, who would never get along they think, but Y/N didn’t care. A friend was a friend.

Clarisse, unfortunately, one day had the fortune of hearing Luke call them that. It was during one of the sword fighting training sessions with Luke, and he, out of either pettiness or wanting to embarrass the hell out of Y/N, called them up to be their test dummy sparring buddy. It went smoothly at first. Y/N wasn’t new to Luke asking them to be his sparring and demonstration partner whenever both Y/N’s cabin’s itineraries and his time as a teacher coincide, which doesn’t happen that often, but when it does Luke took advantage of it. Regardless, Y/N did it for Luke. And Luke was always ever so grateful for it.

After a few demonstrations from Luke, the real sparring commenced. Y/N knew they had no leg to stand on and was awfully aware that Luke was the best swordsman in Camp Half-Blood. There was no way in hell they’d beat him. It was a short spar and before they knew it, Y/N was on the ground, a scene Y/N was all too familiar with to the point Y/N might as well befriend the ground they walk on by how much accustomed they were to being face to face with it.

Luke smiled at Y/N as the tip of their sword was right in front of their throat and Y/N rolled their eyes. "You okay there, Ease?" he asked, offering their hand for them to take. Y/N partially accepted the offer, before their eyes widened. The nickname wasn't supposed to go out to everyone else. They looked at the crowd before them, Apollo kids, Y/N's cabin, and unfortunately, Ares kids and Clarisse. Shame and embarrassment became anger, and Y/N swatted Luke's hand before beelining to the exit.

Luke stood there stunned, not realizing the gravity of the situation. It took him a while to finally understand what he had done. Y/N had firmly asked them to keep the nickname between themselves. But Luke couldn't help it. He forgets himself whenever he's in front of them. It was like Y/N was his tunnel vision, and he forgot every ounce of autonomy and thought. He knew he didn't mean to embarrass Y/N but it slipped. And now, Luke had to ask for penance. It wasn't new for the two to bicker and fight, it was in friends' nature to do so. However, this was different. Y/N was the type to always prove a point, and they'd normally react with a malice-laced “What the hell does that mean?” or a very exasperated “What?”, but today was different. They left without arguing, and that scared Luke more than all of their heated fights combined. He swallowed from worry and nervousness before apologizing to everyone in the arena, also beelining to the exit. Clarisse was there to witness everything, and for once that day, she snickered.

Ever since that day, Ease had stuck in everyone's minds. Although no one dared to use it and stuck on calling Y/N their name, Clarisse would use it often to either taunt or tease them, there was no in-between.

"I hate you so much" Y/N begrudgingly says, looking far away from them. Clarisse's laugh roared as a response. "Does Mr. Loverboy have any plans for you both?” That got Y/N's attention. They tilted their head, trying to decipher her words. Clarisse, ever so observant, took that as an answer and sighed.

"He's such a fucking loser." Mark and Y/N's heads snap up, nonverbally lecturing the girl for the use of such…language. It was second nature to think Chiron was listening to them, and the look of disapproval from the camp director was hard to remove. The last thing they wanted was Clarisse getting in trouble or worse…dishwashing duty. “What? It’s true, isn’t it? That boy is in love with you and couldn’t get the balls to confess to you. He's stuck looking at you like a kicked puppy every time he even catches sight of you it's so damn annoying.” It was now Y/N’s turn to laugh, albeit it was more bitter than straight coffee. They knew it wasn’t possible. Y/N knew their feelings for their best friend were genuine but for some sick, twisted, sadistic reason, Y/N decided upon themselves to assume that it was one-sided, and thus made it their mission to lock it up and throw away the key. Even if they weren’t romantically involved, they were just happy for Luke to be a part of their life. Y/N has convinced themselves.

“I can’t believe I’m friends with idiots!” Clarisse raises her arms in frustration and annoyance, to both her best friend and Luke themselves. It was clear that they danced around their feelings and it was so fascinating that an Ares kid out of everyone saw that, out of all the kids in the camp. It was comedic, albeit sad, but comedic.

“Clarisse, you’re the only one who thinks that.” “Not really.” Mark immediately interjects. Y/N glares at the kid, Mark shrugging in response. Clarisse pumps her fist in the air and high-fives Mark in vindication. “Even the kid sees it, Y/N. Stop telling yourself it ain’t so because it is. Luke loves you and you love him. End of story.”

"I'm content that he's part of my life, Clarisse. Isn't that enough?" The last sentence came out in the form of a whisper, which even Y/N was surprised by. They tried to convince either themselves or Clarisse & Mark that that was the case. Why were they getting choked up about this in the first place? Weren't they content that he was part of their life? Y/N damns their actions for betraying their words.

“Look, just accept the fact you like Luke. Stop pretending and stop convincing yourself that you don’t. Let your feelings out.” Clarisse blurted out. Y/N couldn’t help but not stifle a laugh. “Since when did you become Aphrodite’s kid?” Clarisse jokingly punched their shoulder, a blush creeping in her cheeks. “Shut up.” The Clarisse that they knew, the one who hid her feelings well, embodied pride, arrogance & exuded bravery, and wouldn’t dare give any advice, less a confession, was back.

“Look, I’m just saying that you’re no better than Luke. You might be even worse than him. And I don’t like seeing my best friend sulking because they made their own bed and laid on it. Stop being stupid and accept the fact that Luke has feelings for you and you have to as well or I'll have to beat you with a stick just to get it through your thick skull."

Y/N spent the entire day looking for Luke, who was nowhere to be found in his normal stations. They asked all his siblings about his whereabouts but nothing. Na-da. Zip. It wasn’t like him to disappear. In a day they’d see wafts of his brownish-black curly hair in the crowd multiple times and knew it was him. Whenever they see him, it was as if he's the only one they can see.

They decided to look around the cabins once again. They bargained to themselves that if they didn’t see him that time, they’d just look for them at the dining pavilion later tonight or just assume he’s busy. They were so busy with their thoughts it took them a while to finally see the man of the hour. He was leaning against the Aphrodite Cabin, talking to a girl. The girl was blonde, and her height was the same as Luke's shoulder. Louise Clifford-Jacobs, Y/N remembered her name. They were one of Aphrodite Cabin’s kindest members. Y/N wasn’t close to them but they’ve talked once in a while and they’ve heard nothing but kind words from everyone around her. They were laughing and the girl was giggling, excitement drawn on her face. She notices Y/N approaching him and she taps Luke's shoulder before pointing to their direction.

Luke looked away from her and saw Y/N, smiling and waving. Luke offered them what seemed like a smile and a hand raised. The smile was something Y/N noticed approaching him. It looked as if it was out of nervousness or tiredness, Y/N couldn't pinpoint which one. It looked forced and was nowhere near Luke's actual smile.

Still, Y/N flashed a big smile at Luke, happy that they finally found him after that unnecessary scavenger hunt to locate him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You weren’t in the Sword Fighting Arena and your siblings didn’t know where you were”

Luke shifted on his feet, hung his head down, and put his hand on the back of his neck. “Hey, Ease. Yeah sorry ‘bout that I had a lot of things to do. I’ll make it up to you soon. Honest!” Y/N nodded their head in understanding. “Oh yeah!” they exclaimed, remembering why they were looking for him in the first place. “I was gonna ask you something. Do you have a second?” Luke began looking between them and Louise. The air suddenly felt thick as tensions and awkwardness rose as if Luke was caught between a rock and a hard place. It seemed as if Luke made his decision when he responded, "Oh shit, sorry Ease I'm in the middle of something with Louise. Do you mind?"

The smile on Y/N’s face dropped and a forced hard line formed on their lips. “Oh. Oh okay. No worries. If it’s important I can ask you some other time. Bye Louise!” Y/N quickly walked away with hands in their pockets. Y/N felt a pang in their chest, and their heart began to beat more rapidly than normal. They didn’t know what they were feeling. Sadness? Disappointment? It seemingly wasn’t Y/N’s Day, but they convinced themselves that it was because Luke was busy, considering he was Camp Counselor after all. Yeah, that’s what it is. Y/N tried to rationalize what took place. However, Y/N evidently came up short.

It had begun to be a daily occurrence it seems, Y/N finding Luke, asking if they could talk or hang out with them and him disregarding them, brushing them off, or telling them they're busy. Just like it became a sudden everyday occurrence, it also became a nuisance and annoyance to Y/N. Once can be brushed off as a mere coincidence but multiple times in a week? Now, that wasn't a coincidence. It had become clear to Y/N: Luke was avoiding them. But why? Did they do something to upset Luke? Couldn’t be. Was it? It didn’t make sense to Y/N. It didn’t make sense to poor ol’ Annabeth either, whom Y/N found solace in. They felt bad and shameful, talking to a literal 13-year-old about stuff they should be dealing with on their own. But Luke was Annabeth’s brother, and Annabeth knew more about him than Y/N would ever in their lifetime. So, it made sense that Y/N would approach her.

"I could've sworn Luke was walking back and forth from the beach. I've seen him there multiple times a day. Even at the lake with the canoes, I'd see him too. He always looked nervous and his hands were clammy. He was very jumpy too. Whenever I’d ask him, he’d brush me aside, force me off his case, and make me return to the Athena cabin.” Annabeth explained one day when they asked about their sibling’s whereabouts. Y/N was slowly getting frustrated, not at Annabeth but at the lack of answers. Who wouldn’t be? Your best friend, out of the blue, began ignoring you; without offering any answers, without explanation. Anyone would go insane just thinking about it. Y/N felt they had no one else to blame but themselves.

Y/N felt despondent more and more every day, and it wasn’t hard to notice. Their signature smile was gone, they weren't eating much, and aloof. Their cabin-mates noticed it too. They weren't their enthusiastic self and slugged around with their activities for the day. Their siblings, wanting to distract them from whatever caused their unorthodox behavior, asked if they wanted to do hand-to-hand combat or forge weapons in the camp forge, which was what Y/N liked doing the most, but was met with a shrug and a distant stare off into the abyss.

It wasn't just their cabin that got the brunt of Y/N’s melancholy. Half of the population in the camp did. Their beds weren't as comfortable as they had gotten used to. Campers began feeling awful emotionally waking up, some had dreams that caused nothing but dejection and misery. Some Aphrodite kids even woke up feeling nothing but heartache, even though it was supposed to be their month. Everyone was affected, and regardless if Y/N knew of this or not, that wasn’t a matter to them that they cared enough about to fix. Selfish? Probably is.

The last straw was on a random Tuesday when once again, Y/N looked for Luke. They once again, like clockwork, looked everywhere for him. They finally found them near the Hermes cabin, talking to his half-siblings. Approaching them, they sensed that Luke wasn't in the best of moods, with his back tensed than usual and their siblings looking as if the ground was far more interesting than their older brother's lecture. The two, who they later found out were the Stolls, noticed Y/N approaching. Connor (Y/N thought it was Connor but they weren’t sure) looked at Luke before directing his eyes towards Y/N. Luke's eyebrows scrunched up before looking at what had gotten the Stoll siblings' attention. Y/N, with hands behind their back and with a thin line on their lips, greeted Luke.

Before Y/N could greet them, Luke stopped them. “Listen, Y/N. I know you wanna hang out with me and tell me whatever this is you want to tell me. I get that. I see that. But please, not now. I’m in the middle of something here.”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrow in sadness and in turn look at the Stolls. Y/N, who has been patient with their best friend, just wasn’t having it. Out of either frustration or desperation, Y/N spoke. “I know that and I understand that. Being a camp counselor is hard work, especially with these ruffians trying to tear down every wall in the cabin.” Y/N tried to lighten up the situation, earning a snicker from the Stolls, who weren’t their intended audience. Luke just stood there, his face still the same, albeit more unamused than before.

“But you have to relax for once. You’ve been at it for days now so I was won-““No.” Luke immediately interjects with hints of venom laced in his teeth. Y/N’s breath hitched. This was the first time in their life they’ve heard Luke speak like that. He was usually this nonchalant, chill dude. Serious when needed but a stand-up guy. Today wasn’t the normal Luke. No, it was something else. It made Y/N’s spine tingle with fear. It also made the Stolls’ back straightened.

“C’mon, Luke. I know you’re working hard but-""I said no, Y/N. Gods above, can’t you please just listen to me once? I’m busy. Please. Leave.” Y/N gulped, looking back at the Stolls before looking back to Luke, whose eyebrows furrowed and scar making him all the more menacing. Y/N immediately left, locking themselves away in their cabin. They looked up, and just thinking about Luke’s tone and expression made them tear up. It was oh so wrong for Y/N to cry over someone, let alone a boy. But this was no ordinary boy no. This boy was special to them, and their expression of annoyance towards them felt like a stab to the heart multiple times, each time the intensity got worse and worse and as a joke, his expression kept removing the daggers only to put it back in.

This made Y/N’s overthinking tenfold. They have settled at the fact that Luke hated them, thought of them as an annoyance, thought of them as excess baggage. These thoughts overwhelmed Y/N and in turn, tears welled up in their eyes, cascading onto their pillow until they fell asleep. None of their siblings tried to bother them, eyes looking back at each other laced with sympathy towards their once exuberant sibling. Y/N ultimately missed lunch and dinner, and Luke noticed that day that Y/N was nowhere to be found. But ultimately decided not to do anything about it.

It was a Thursday when the downfall came. Y/N, who was feeling nothing but sadness the past couple of days, like a shift of tides, has inadvertently turned this sadness into something else; something much more dangerous and malicious: Anger. It was all of a sudden. Y/N woke up on the wrong side of the bed, and that’s when everything went to shit. Y/N’s anger poured over everyone in their cabin. Sammie, Y/N's bunkmate, asked them what was wrong. They were always there for Y/N and Y/N considered Sammie their closest sibling out of everyone. So, it was a surprise to all of their siblings when Y/N’s voice, filled with malice and venom, barked “LEAVE ME ALONE. CAN’T YOU SEE I’M NOT? FOR GOD'S SAKE JESUS ABOVE! ARE YOU STUPID OR BRAIN DEAD?” Everyone’s mouth hung open as they looked at each other, either out of fear or mere awkwardness. Y/N wasn’t the type to scream at anyone out of the blue. They were boisterous and loud, sure, but it was out of happiness and eagerness to wake up every day. But now, it was like a cloud cast over Camp Half-Blood, even though it never rained there.

Everyone stopped what they were doing to look at the scene in front of them. Y/N on their bed, blanket strewn about on their legs as they scowled at the now teary-eyed Sammie. Time stood still and the air got more and more heavy. Here was their zealous and exuberant sibling, who woke up and randomly just chose to pick a fight the moment their eyes opened. It wasn't like them. But no one knew what caused them to snap. Someone had to step between them and Hayden, one of the older members of the camp, guided Sammie away from Y/N before they further angered them. Essie, another one of their siblings, glared at Y/N.

Y/N, with everyone's eyes on them, finally was hugged by clarity's warmth and their eyes softened. They looked around to see their siblings looking at them with the expression of either disgust or shame, and Y/N couldn't stand to be around their siblings. They tossed their blanket aside and went out of their cabin, head down.

Maybe walking could clear my head. Y/N thought. So, they walked. And walked, visiting every place you can go to in camp, rinse and repeat. They felt like a soulless traveler, wandering aimlessly around. Lifeless and tired. As they began walking back to their cabin however, a familiar voice tried to stop them. They tensed up, realizing it was Luke, the same boy who had been ignoring them for days, who now had the utter audacity to come up to them as if nothing had happened.

Y/N, more infuriated than before, turned around to look at the boy. He was in a smiley mood, creases formed on the side of their eyes. This was Luke’s signature smile that he knew Y/N loved, but unfortunately for him, today wasn’t the day it’d work on them. They glowered at Luke with intense fury in their eyes, and Luke, at that moment, wanted nothing more than to be sucked in by a black hole from where he stood, even though they had no idea what had made them furious like that. In the years of knowing Y/N, Luke knew they had that specific look whenever they were furious, that one that made you want to eat dirt or bury yourself alive. It wasn’t a normal occurrence, which made the intensity of the look way worse. And whenever they did show it, regardless of how many times they’ve done so over the years, it always felt like the first, and Luke always shuddered seeing it. He wasn’t thrilled when his Ease was upset. And in years of knowing them, knew not to mess with Y/N during their spouts of anger, but what Luke wanted to tell them was very important to both of them, Luke thinks, and assumed it’d make Y/N’s mood better, just like every other plan Luke had for them when they were mad or upset. In hindsight, this was probably the worst decision Luke has ever made.

"Hey, I was looking for you. Do you have a second?" Luke put his hands in his khaki pants' pockets and smiled at Y/N. Luke's nonchalance made Y/N's expression turn from anger into disbelief. Did he actually believe that Y/N, whose face is red with anger and disgust towards Luke's actions for the past week, would just come around and entertain Luke's question? Certainly, no one would. Disbelief turned into fury, and Y/N's hands turned into a fist. They approached Luke, and for a minute Luke smiled. Tunnel vision once again washed over Luke, and unfortunately for him, he failed to see Y/N, who without hesitation, swung at him.

Luke was on the ground in an instant, shock painted across his face. He felt for the side of his lip, which was now cut open and oozing with blood. If Y/N was in a better mood, they’d take a picture of Luke’s expression and hang it up so people would gawk at it. But alas, Y/N didn’t have a camera, and they weren’t in the mood for stupid jokes, let alone Luke’s.

“You really have the gall to ask me that? After what you’ve fucking done?” Y/N’s every step was filled to the brim with resentment, each step might leave and burn a permanent mark on the ground. Luke wasn't looking forward to what Y/N was gonna do to him. And Luke, in all of this, was painfully unaware of what he had done, as evident by the clueless look he had, which infuriated Y/N more.

“You, Luke Castellan, are the stupidest, shittiest, and the most pathetic excuse of a man I've ever met in this entire lifetime. You ignore me for days, brush me off when I try to talk to you and act like I don't exist. You are just as cruel as the Gods. No, scratch that. Even worse. If you didn’t wanna be friends anymore you could’ve just fucking told me instead of you acting like you don't see me.” The anger in Y/N seemingly dissipated, replacing it with another just as intense if not more emotion: Anguish. Y/N's eyes were now filled to the brim with days' worth of unshed tears, it was as if the dam inside their heart finally burst. Luke finally, by the grace of God, realized the critical error they'd made. They didn't mean to leave Y/N in the dust like that, but Y/N didn't know that. It was his fault for not communicating with them about it. He, upon seeing his best friend, with tears in their eyes and anger and other pent-up emotions over the days splattered in both their face and actions, knew he had morally fucked up. Luke Castellan, who was very much aware of how many times he had fucked up in his life, who was so used to seeing the consequences of his actions, for seemingly the first time, was now so blissfully aware of how unaware he was of the damage he’d done. The last thing he wanted was to make Y/N feel anything but happiness. He never wanted to hurt them or make them cry. They swore one day years ago that until they died, they wouldn’t make Y/N feel that way. To be alone. To be abandoned, like the Gods did. Luke had always been angry at the Gods for ignoring them and didn't want anyone, especially their best friend, to feel that way after everything that had happened to them. But like the Gods, life was cruel like that, and promises were sometimes made to be broken. And Luke failed. Yet again. He did. At that moment, he realized just how much anguish and pain he had caused. Luke's expression softened and regret was now sprawled across his face.

Y/N raised their fist towards Luke, and he closed his eyes, expecting a second punch to land on his face. I deserve it. he thought. But he waited and waited until…nothing. Instead, Y/N's fist faced the ground, and their head was down, tears dripping onto the dirt they were now kneeling on. They gripped on their pants like a lifeline, as they shook with rage. Luke, fully grasping what was happening, tried to approach them and touch their hand. But as soon as he tried, Y/N moved away from him. At that moment, you could hear Luke's heart shattering into millions of pieces. He'd officially ruined it. Just like everything he touched.

Y/N stood up and wiped the tears that were threatening to spill from their eyes. Their hair was a mess, shirt rippled as if it wasn't ironed and their hand was now a little bloody from the punch to both Luke's face and the contact with the Earth. Y/ N looked at Luke with malice, and Luke unconsciously stepped back.

“Stay away from me, Luke Castellan. If you know what’s good for you, I advise you to do so. Never ever talk to me again. Go fuck yourself. We’re done.”

Relationships end, that was a given. Love was silly like that. Breaking up and losing who you thought was your forever was one of the saddest heartaches you can get in life. That was universal knowledge. But Luke, at that moment, knew that that wasn't the case. To him, the most heartbreaking thing was to see their best friend walk away, just like that. They essentially gave up on him, and Luke had nothing to blame but himself. The one person who he knew wouldn’t give up on them, did just that. Friendships come and go, and over time and unexpectedly, they can break off. And all you can do is accept and move on. That was natural. But this wasn’t something Luke didn’t want to just accept. He knew this one’s reason wasn't natural. And it had one reason: him. Luke Castellan. Son of Hermes. A fuck up.

Luke laid on his bunk bed, contemplating. This had been going on for two days already. Luke waking up and doing nothing but brood and contemplate. Nobody in the cabin bothered him, aside from Chris who stepped up as temporary camp counselor for him and updated him once in a while about what they did that day, and his other younger sister Mia who cleaned up his wound upon seeing him enter the cabin, dazed and hurt. He would kill just for Y/N to say something to him, to scream at him, do something instead of the cold glares they have given them when they reach the dinner pavilion or even as they walk near their cabin. For some reason, Y/N always knew they were there, and it pissed them off even more. The silence between them was deafening, and Luke hated every minute of it. It wasn't rare for the two to fight, Y/N was feisty and loved arguing, especially when they knew they were right. But the first time, when Y/N decided that they weren't gonna argue, got Luke shaken up and scared.

Luke had looked everywhere for Y/N that day. He knew he royally fucked up, calling Y/N by their nickname that they’ve agreed upon should be kept in secrecy. Put that in the list of things Luke has fucked up in the years of their friendship. Worry filled Luke’s brain. What if they went to the forest and got hurt? Luke wouldn’t forgive himself if that happens. He’s lost a lot of people in his life, and when Y/N came into his life, while ambivalent at first, later on promised to himself that he wasn’t gonna let anything happen to Y/N. He had sworn to protect them, even though he knew they didn’t need him. Luke was just about to give up, his nerves shaken as he anxiously thought of multiple what-ifs in his head, when he found them ultimately in the last place they never bothered to search: the campfire.

Y/N was sitting on the ground, hugging their knees. They were looking at the ground. Luke hesitantly walked towards them and sat next to them. The fire crackled as a girl, who was not older than 8, tended to the flames. He could’ve sworn he's never seen this girl in the years he’s been here but that didn’t matter. Y/N sensed someone was next to them, and looked up. Luke sheepishly smiled at them and in turn, Y/N looked away.

Luke sighed and laid his head on their shoulder, closing his eyes. Y/N didn’t shrug him off, which was a good thing but they weren’t looking at him. They just sat there, the crackling of fire the only thing you could hear as it danced like two lovers in an intense dance for their lives. Silence went by minutes. No one dared making a sound.

“I’m sorry.” Were the first words that pierced the silence that surrounded them. Luke sat right up and looked at Y/N who was now looking at them with the most heavenly eyes Luke had ever seen. Their eyes were out of this world, it was as if planets and novas were encased in them. But what ruined it was the gloss. Not because of the glossiness of their eyes, but the cause of it. Y/N had been crying. And it was Luke’s fault.

“Why are you apologizing, Ease? It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I embarrassed you. I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. And now here you are, crying. I also promised I wouldn’t make you cry either.” He sighed before putting his forehead on their shoulder, closing his eyes. It was another minute before Y/N spoke again.

“It’s stupid, Luke. It was petty. And I made it a big deal by leaving. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you in front of the campers. I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

The pair looked at each other in lopsided smiles. “We’re both a mess, huh?” He looked at them again with the biggest and doofiest smile he could muster. Then, giggles. Giggling and laughter roared in the air as the two non-verbally apologized to each other. Hugs and jokes were shared that day in front of the bonfire. You couldn’t burn that scene whenever you tried. It was one of the best days the two ever had.

Emphasis on had. Luke thought. Now, he lays there, contemplating the bridge he’d burn from the one good thing in his life. What Luke couldn’t forget the most were their eyes, filled with hate and malice towards him. Seeing them like that felt like the entire world, his entire world, fall apart. And then they left them there standing, forced to pick up the millions of pieces he himself destroyed.

He knew he loved them; he really did. He could lie under oath and people would know he’s being disingenuous. He’d known for a while about what he felt for them. The way he looks at them from a distance as they laugh with their cabin-mates, a smile unconsciously creeps into his lips. The way their eyes drag towards them instinctively in the crowd. The way they put him over themselves and how much they accommodate him. Those were some of the things they loved about Y/N. And it took Chris and the entire Hermes cabin just to make him realize just how much of a love-sick puppy he was. Although he knew of his feelings towards them, just like Y/N though, they were both content in being part of their lives. Just like Y/N, He was scared that he might fuck up if they both got together, and he didn’t want to lose them. So, he convinced himself that keeping them in their lives platonically was the only solution they had. They were both idiots. Laughing at that now, Luke couldn’t help but slap himself in the face. You kept them platonically but you still fucked up. Way to go, Castellan.

He was surely convinced he was just okay to keep them in their lives platonically. He didn’t even initially plan anything on Valentine's Day. Just hanging out with them and doing nothing was okay for Luke. But as Valentine’s Day crept around the corner, Luke couldn’t help but think of holding their hand that day as fireworks sprayed in the sky, red and white lights dancing and looking down at them. He couldn’t help but dream of holding them in their arms, kissing them on the temple, smiling down at them as they both looked at each other in adoration. He knew he had to make a move, as both were as stubborn as mules. Y/N had always been the one to initiate everything. From hanging out to just lollygagging around camp. Y/N has always been there for him. It was always Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. He swears he could make their name a chant, just to immortalize this being he could’ve sworn was given to him by the Gods themselves. What did he do to deserve such an angel? He doesn’t know. He realized that for once in his life, He wanted to initiate something first. Not Y/N. Him.

He felt his heart ripping out of his chest, and at that instant, he knew he had to do something. At first, he couldn’t find Aphrodite kids who he was close enough to ask for advice since they were all busy with the Feast. But the Gods smiled down upon him that day, in the form of Louise Clifford-Jacobs. Luke wasted no hesitation asking Louise about what to do on Valentines, the perfect spot in Camp Half-Blood, the perfect food to serve, everything. He was so focused on planning he didn’t realize Y/N was next to him, the last person he hoped to hear him ask an Aphrodite girl about his plans for them. Looking at Y/N and their smile, Luke felt his heart beat in his chest. His ears turned red as the love of their life smiled upon them, like sun rays that greeted you in the morning. Y/N had wanted to ask him a question, and although he wanted to entertain it, he still had to plan their date. Luke knew he hadn’t had much time but he didn’t wanna make them leave. Sacrifices were needed to be taken, and Luke had asked them to leave. The smile that left Y/N’s face broke his heart, but he had to do something so that his plan wasn’t blown.

Luke watched as Y/N left and felt a pang, it was as if someone had shot them directly into his chest. Looking at Louise, they instinctively knew they had to make the date as special as ever.

But all the planning. All gone to waste because Luke had failed to focus on the one good thing he had. He was so intent on making the perfect date he forgot who it was for. And now Luke was just there staring into the abyss of the bunk bed, dejected that not only he lost his best friend, his grand plan was useless now. Maybe he could give the plan to Percy? He wasn’t sure anymore.

A knock on the door interrupted his brooding, and he sat up to see the last person he expected to see today. Clarisse La Rue, in all her Ares fashion, walked inside and sat next to Luke. She intently looked at Luke, anger pulsing through her veins. Luke gulps in response.

“I wanna punch you so bad, Castellan.” She started. “So, so bad. You don’t know how much you fucked up.” He flinched. He knew how hard Ares kids’ punches are, but Clarisse’s was deadlier. You could’ve hit him with a stone and it would hurt way less. She continues. “But I won’t.” Luke sat up, confused. If she wasn’t there to hurt him then what? Luke couldn’t wrap around the scenario happening right now.

“Clarisse, if you’re looking for Capture the Flag alliances, go look for someone else. I’m not in the mood to think of strategies nor care for any bartering you're gonna do.” Luke bluntly stated as he plopped his head on his pillow, covering his eyes with his arm. He hears the girl sigh. “As much as I would really like to make an alliance with you, I’m here for Y/N”

This caught the boy’s attention as he sat up again. He stares at Clarisse before she starts to speak. “Look, I’m probably the last person you’d expect to play cupid but goddamn you both are annoying as fuck. I’ll cut to the chase, Castellan. My best friend is fucking in love with you, they just couldn’t admit it because they’ve made their thick skull think they didn’t have a chance with you. It has gotten worse ever since you started your little game of ignoring them. Now, I know you like them too, the way you look at them makes me wanna vomit but whatever. And I know you didn't mean to ignore them. This is all just a big misunderstanding and Idiot 1 and 2 do nothing but brood and sigh all day. I for one think it's annoying as hell.” Clarisse sighs, reclining on the railings of Luke’s bunk. " The point is, I’m not gonna sit around and see them cry over some idiot. Now, get your sad, pathetic ass out of bed and tell me your plan so I can help.”

Luke and Clarisse indeed formed an unlikely alliance. Although not in Capture The Flag, it was for Y/N so it was the next best thing. Luke’s plan was simple: it was a simple dinner date at the camp’s gazebo, with the gazebo facing the lake. Luke used his abilities as a Hermes kid to smuggle in Y/N and his' favorite food. Clarisse, who had connections with Aphrodite kids through her other best friend Silena, had asked them to help Luke with his case. They didn’t hesitate, seeing that love and courtship was their forte. Louise and Silena lead the operation, Luke owing them big time for this. In all of the planning and decorating, Luke had gotten antsy. And Silena was getting rather annoyed. Using her charm speak, she had managed to calm Luke’s nerves. Sighs of relief echoed as Luke decided to sit as far away as the Aphrodite kids and let them do their jobs without looking like a strict supervisor.

Silena and Clarisse had known for a long time just how much the Hermes boy yearned for Y/N. In fact, the pair were taking bets on who would confess first, with Silena betting that Y/N would meanwhile Clarisse was betting on Luke. In the meantime, it seems like none of them were winning. And they wouldn’t like that now, would they? That’s why they agreed to help him. Though it was the second reason, the real reason why was sweeter, but they would rather be caught dead than admit that.

Whilst Silena and Clarisse helped prepare, they couldn’t help but look back at Luke. His leg wobbled up and down and he kept wringing his hands. Sweat was rolling down his head as his eyes shifted, while silent murmurs left his mouth. In the many years these two have known Luke, they have never seen him like this. He was the epitome of confidence, both in the eyes of his siblings and everyone in the camp. He was ever so self-assured with both his abilities in sword fighting and his abilities as Head Counselor. Yet here he was, a blubbering mess. It was definitely out of character for him. The two kept snickering every time they looked back at him, and they looked back at each other, rolling their eyes. This was definitely blackmailing material for the future.

That night on Valentines Day, the feast had commenced in celebration of the Goddess of Love. With everyone in the dinner pavilion, Chiron had shared their usual pleasantries, and just like clockwork, finally asked everyone to commence the celebration. Everyone was dressed in their best clothes and eating well tonight, courtesy of the Aphrodite cabin, kids who knew they helped in preparations can finally eat up and pat themselves on the back for a job well done. Couples from different cabins were allowed to eat next to each other, as their single siblings watched in horror and disgust. Burning of offerings had also commenced tenfold, with everyone thanking the Goddess of Love for a very successful day. As the celebration goes on, Y/N sat next to their siblings, half of them sitting with their loved ones, while the rest talk amongst themselves. They sat in the middle, aimlessly picking and playing with their food.

A cough took them out of their state. Clarisse, who was wearing her best red dress, and Silena who absolutely looked stunning in their off-shoulder dress stood next to each other, looking at them. Y/N in turn looked up at them, eyes filled with gloom. “Don’t tell me you’re gonna be like that the entire night, Y/N”.

“And what if I was?” They barked in retaliation. They were in no mood to bicker with the daughter of Ares. They weren’t also in a mood to celebrate this supposed-to-be happy occasion. Why would they? They just lost their best friend and the person they have been yearning for in just a week.

“Well, that’s no good now, is it?” both snicker at each other. They sigh before standing up, back hunched and their arms on the table. “Look, I’m really not in the mood to entertain pranks nor play with matchmakers, no offense Silena” she smiled and nodded back to them.

“Well good news. This is no prank. Silena and I decided that since you’re alone this Valentine’s you could come join us on a little singles bonding.” Y/N raised their eyebrow in suspicion. They had a hunch that whenever these two were together and involved, it wasn’t gonna be pretty. These two, besides them and Clarisse, are partners in crime. And when there’s trouble in the air, Clarisse and Silena are the main culprits.

Y/N sighed however. Despite not being in the mood, they had no plans whatsoever. They were, however, in an entertaining mood. There was nothing to lose. So, they humor them, albeit begrudgingly. They rolled their eyes and looked back at them. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

The girls smile and jump in excitement. Seeing this commotion, they knew something was up. These two were planning something, and Y/N was mentally cursing themselves for agreeing. There was fire in Clarisse’s eyes, and in the many years they’ve known her, they knew exactly what this look was: Determination. A determined Clarisse was dangerous, that they knew. They would stop at nothing to get things done, regardless if it'd kill her or not. An over exaggeration on Y/N’s part but you get the point. But curiosity was a killer. And well, satisfaction will bring them back.

Silena dragged Y/N away from their table, no one paying mind to them leaving, while Clarisse pushed them forward. They walked and walked until they ended up in the Aphrodite cabin, desolate with no one but themselves. They dragged them to the cabin’s vanity table that was lined with different hair items and products, from hair gel to combs. Aphrodite kids were stacked, and Y/N anxiety never faltered.

“What the hell are you two gonna do to me?” they asked, voice laced with fear. Clarisse’s usual cackle filled the cabin, alongside the sound of a turned-on hair dryer. “Oh c’mon, Y/N liven up. It’s Mom’s Day. I’m giving you a makeover, of course. Courtesy of the entire Aphrodite cabin.” Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror and realized they look utterly horrid. Their hair stuck out in every direction; their eyes red from the constant crying. Eyebags evident from the lack of sleep. Silena was right, They thought. They did look like a mess.

“Think of it as self-care, Y/N. As the Head Councilor of the Aphrodite cabin, we are humbly your fairy godmothers for the evening. I’m gonna make sure you look perfect and stunning. Now. Face the mirror.”

Silena was right. Y/N did look perfect right now. They looked the best they’ve ever been ever since they entered camp, hell, even before they were homeless. One word can describe them right now and it was this: Ethereal. They looked like you could put them in Olympus and no one would be any wiser, no, scratch that, they looked more than just a God. They looked like a celestial being. Silena and Clarisse couldn’t help but gawk at their joint masterpiece and Y/N looked at themselves in the mirror, basking in their appearance.

Y/N couldn’t help it as a tear rolled down their cheek, which Silena tsked before wiping it off. “Someone who looks celestial tonight has no right to cry. Look at you!” Both Clarisse and Silena were now beside them, and they gawked once more at them. Their confidence skyrocketed ten-fold, and by God they didn’t think they were even capable of looking like so. They looked at both Clarisse and Silena, nodding at them, eyes closed, feeling ever so grateful for their job tonight. But they knew the night wasn’t over, and without hesitation, Clarisse took their hand and led them out the cabin.

It was a short walk and before they knew it, they reached the lit gazebo. Y/N’s eyes sparkled as they stared in awe at the decorations that littered it, fairy lights in little jars, red and white clothes draped at the roof of the gazebo. Food was on the rose petal decorated table, with a beautiful table setting with handkerchiefs folded into swans. But that wasn’t the only thing that was in there. A curly haired boy sat on one of the tables, dressed in a suit, looking down and twiddling with their thumbs. Luke. They thought.

All the happiness they felt have now dissipated, and fury once again taken hold of them. “What the hell is this?” They spat venom, and the pair couldn’t help but flinch in retaliation. Looking up, Luke saw Y/N, and he couldn’t help but gawk at them. Luke had always known Y/N was ethereal, but with Silena and Clarisse’s help, they were all of a sudden out of this world. It was as if Y/N embodied Aphrodite, you can even say moreso, however you wouldn’t catch Luke saying that aloud. All the gawking Luke did however, was ruined when they saw their face. They were infuriated. Angry that they were tricked by Silena and Clarisse. Angry at him.

Luke wasted no time and made a beeline towards Y/N. "What is he doing here?” Y/N asks Silena and Clarisse, and the duo stayed quiet, looking at Luke for help. Luke sighs, putting both his hands up near his chest, a sign that he wasn’t there to put up a fight. “Don’t get mad at them, Ease. They helped me. I asked them to trick you. I’m sorry.”

“I told you that I didn’t wanna see you anymore, Luke.” “I know that but please hear me out.” Without saying a word, Y/N began to turn around and walk away. Who wouldn’t be pissed? The last person they wanted to see right now was standing there, whilst they recruited their other friends to basically trick them into seeing him. To say they were pissed was an understatement.

Not wanting for Y/N to leave before he explained himself, he grabs their arm. The touch felt electric to Y/N as they spun around as Luke held them. And for the first time in a while, Y/N’s expression softened. It had been days since the two had hung out, let alone seen each other. The fight had made them more distant than before, and Y/N couldn’t help but yearn for Luke’s touch. As skin contacts skin, his touch made them putty, and all the anger they’ve kept just seemingly dissipated, and there was nothing left but yearning. Painful, painful yearning.

“Please, Y/N hear me out. I promise I’ll make it worthwhile.” Y/N closed their eyes, sighing. Y/N knew Luke was their weakness, it had always been. And as he stood there holding them, all thoughts were officially lost. They nodded, and Luke for the first time in a while had his signature smile plastered on their face.

Luke looks at Y/N’s eyes, enamored as the lights from the gazebo danced in it. The more he stared at their eyes, they felt like a moth drawn to the flame. He could stare at it forever, like how Narcissus looked at his reflection in the water, but Luke had to snap out of it, and finish the hell that he had started.

“Listen, Ease. In the years I’ve lived on this Earth, I’ve recognized just how much I’ve fucked up. I was very much aware of how much I’ve done so. With Hal, with…Thalia.” Luke looked at the ground, tears began welling in his eyes. Y/N, who looked at him with adoration, wasted no time putting their hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to them. Luke looks at Y/N, before laughing, tears betraying him as they rush down like a waterfall. Y/N’s expressions softened even more, as they used their thumb to swipe any more tears that dared leave Luke’s eyes. A nod left Y/N, encouraging Luke to continue. The gesture made Luke a little more courageous, as he swallowed, before continuing. “With dad’s quest. I knew how much of a fuckup I was. I was always aware, and for some odd reason, when the consequences of these fuck-ups arise, I just ignore them. Not the healthiest option I know but I just stopped giving a fuck, you know? It is what it is mentality.” As he looked at Y/N, he took their hands into his, and suddenly yet all at once, it felt exhilarating. Their hand in his felt bright and warm, a feeling both of them never felt before. In that moment, they both seemed to forget all the troubles, trials and tribulations they’ve experienced, and what matters right now were just the two of them, in that moment, a scene like in a movie.

“But seeing you walk away like that with the angriest and furious eyes with tears cascading down your face, I realized something.” He breathes out as his grip on their hands tighten, it was as if at any minute, Luke would lose them, like they would drift away from them, never to be seen again. “I realized that out of all the fuck ups I did, hurting you was the worst one I’ve ever done. In that moment, I realized that making you feel alone and small was the biggest fuck-up I have ever done. For the first time, It felt as if some part of me died that day. Out of all the mistakes I've done in my life, you were the only one I was willing to fix."

Luke adoringly stepped forward more, and the space between them left as if it never existed. Luke moved his hands to their forearm, and in turn they put their hand on his chest. “You, Ease, made me realize that out of everything in my life, you’ve become the only thing I got right. I could forget everything, and you’d still be the only constant I’m thankful the Gods had given me. You're the only one who has seen the reds and the blues of my life and despite everything, you just burned them all up. And you, with all your love for an idiot like me, kissed them goodbye.”

“I’m here to fix things between us, Ease. Let it be known that I’m not willing to give you away that easily. Not in this lifetime. Not in the next. So please, I hope you forgive me.”

Y/N, upon hearing Luke’s words, couldn’t help but allow the tears to fall from their eyes. Overwhelmed with emotions, they wasted no time putting their arms around him, sobbing as they cling on to him, scared that they might fall away from them. It took Luke a minute before wrapping their arms around them as well, swinging them back and forth as the pair laughed and giggled in each other’s presence. Tears and smiles were shared amongst the pair, and Luke, smitten in love, broke the contact first, his hands on Y/N’s waist. The pair basked at each other’s presence with adoration, as they stood there, foreheads touching. Y/N’s hands crept once again to Luke’s face and in that moment, as they looked at each other, time stood still, silence washed over them. “Ease, I promise you, you won’t regret it.” He giddily smiles at them, and they chuckle.

“I know I won’t.” Y/N replies. Luke leans in, and in sync, their lips move against each other. The pair melted in each other as Y/N placed their hands on their neck. Y/N’s lips were soft. Luke thought. And a smile crept into his lips as his dreams of what their lips felt like on his was now in fruition. Electricity filled the air as the two savored each other, apologies and I love yous passed back and forth with each kiss. It was invigorating, the pair thought. He parts his lips for them, allowing each other to explore and satiate the hunger they had for each other. Their hands slipped into his curly hair and in turn, Luke pulled them towards his body more.

They broke apart after a few minutes, the two catching their breath. As they looked at each other, a sudden boom made their heads snap towards the sky. Red and white lights danced in the sky, covering the entire valley with the Love Goddess’ colors. The two looked up at the sky in adoration as they held onto each other, Luke’s head on their shoulder as they laid their head on his, with Luke’s arms around their waist and their hands resting on top of his.

Silena and Clarisse watch on as their friends bask in each other’s presence, and in turn they look at each other. Clarisse held out a hand, and Silena couldn’t help but groan as they fished in their pockets, placing a few drachmas on the God of War’s child's palm. Clarisse nodded a thank you to Silena, before both of them left to give the two some deserved privacy.

Never in the million years Luke would think the Gods would give him someone, let alone a person who loved all of him. Y/N, his North Star, his tether, his world. He didn't expect them, out of everyone, to now be in his arms, fully embracing the feeling they had for each other that they were so afraid to admit before. Now, as his name fell from Y/N’s mouth, he smiles as he basked at the moment, silently thanking the Gods for this one. And maybe, just maybe he thinks, he can forget about why he hated the Gods in the first place.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan pjo #pjo series #pjo tv show #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x gender neutral! reader #charlie bushnell #luke pjo #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfiction #valentine's day #best friends to lovers #fluff #angst with a happy ending

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prettyboykatsuki · 4 months

Text

no need to thank me, yours for the taking | shadowheart

✮ tags ; dom + gender-neutral reader, sub!shadowheart, established relationship, first time subbing / bottoming, some bratting, praise, rope-play, foreplay, fingering, squirting, 18

✮ wc ; 3.5k

✮ synopsis ; shadowheart isn't like this with just anyone. but you make it all too easy to be on her knees

✮ a/n ; hello!! this is for a lovely commissioner who i will keep anon!! please be kind abt my shadowheart characterization its my first time but im firm in believing shes a soft brat. title from lyk dis by Nxworries !!

minor spoilers for her story but very vague!!

You’ve never gone back on your word.

Sharran practice, to Shadowheart, is a lie within itself. There is more to life than darkness, than pain, than obsidian night. Sharran practice does not promote the practices of deceit. But the territory of secrecy, concealment, is that lying is common practice. A beautiful, painful, empty lie.

And of course, her goddess herself, lied to Shadowheart about her own existence for her entire life. She almost expects it now. That someone she loves so dearly will lie to her, and that everything will be pulled from her feet once again.

You don’t lie to Shadowheart, though. Never about anything important. She believes you when you tell her you love her. Or when you say you won’t leave. Or when you say that you don’t mind adopting more animals, or tending to the gardens or having her parents over for dinner.

When the wound on her hand burns hotly, you always hold it for her. When you tell Shadowheart you want to take care of her, she wants to believe you.

It’s hard though. The intimacy makes it harder. The vulnerability of touch, pleasure frightens her - so she instead reverts to old practices of having you listen to her every word. She takes and takes and takes, on her own terms and you don’t mind.

But because you don’t lie, you always tell her - that you’d like to take care of her just once. That you’d prefer to take the lead and make her feel good, if she’d let you. You’d like to try it with her, and her reply is always cheeky and deflective.

If Shadowheart was more capable of honesty, she might’ve told you she wanted it earlier. It’s too hard, so you don’t push her. Except, she sees you among the large Rothe with your sleeves pushed to your elbows, and sweat down your brows. There, you’re just as gentle and thoughtful as always, and the sun shines down like it was always yours.

Strangely, it’s what makes her want to admit it to herself. That she wants you to touch her the way you always talk about. It’s unlike her to be timid, where she’s usually so coy - but it’s different with this in particular.

(She wonders, is it easy for anyone? To admit that they want to be adored? She finds herself envious of that kind of person.)

So she admits it to you, and because you’re always honest - you smile and kiss and thank her. Trap her in your arms and don’t let her squirm away from your touch as you tell her over and over that you’ll be so good to her.

She believes you.

If she didn’t, there’s no way she’d be here for you like this.

The soft glow of candlelight casts a golden hue on your face, your expression tight from focus. Her chest feels warm and achy looking at you through the mirror.

“Is tying me up really necessary?” She presses. You look up at her through your lashes with a smile that seems smarmy.

“You’ll try to get your way if I don’t.” You reply, so nonchalant about the accusation she’s offended by it. Nearly. The slight lift in your brow, the smugness of knowing you’re right, sends her somewhere else though.

Her heart races at your touch, more now than before. She’s naked beside her panties, skin hot to the touch. Her nipples are hard, a lust pooling in her stomach as you ignore her pout and go back to your rope work. She pushes back on your claim once her nerves settle again.

“What? Are you afraid I’ll take it back from you?” She taunts.

This time, your smile is soft and gentle.

“No. Not at all.”

You slide your fingers through the rope cuffs behind her that you’ve managed to tie only looking once. Her frown deepens and you laugh, standing in front of her and reaching towards her to wipe the crease in between her brows.

“Too tight?”

She shakes her head again, perplexed at all the ways you touch her. She doesn’t dislike it. She just doesn’t know what to expect. There are rules and she can stop when it’s too much. She knows all of that. The most nerve wracking part is how unreadable you feel. How you know her intimately enough to know she wants to fight with you.

That you’re confident enough about her mannerisms that you don’t think she’d win. It sends butterflies swarming in her abdomen, heat running across every ridge of her spine. She glances at you now with a keen awareness of her position. Naked, vulnerable, helpless. Her breath hitches as the anxious feeling sparks.

Then you call her.

“Breathe, my heart,” You murmur, so carefully it startles her. She’s never like this. Not with anyone. No such person has existed that’s made her want to be like this. “You’re safe with me.”

Your eyes lock, and there’s so much tenderness in your gaze her stomach twists again even tighter. She’d whimper if she was dazed enough to make the sound.

“Will you let me take care of you?”

She rolls her eyes. She’s all too aware of how petulant it is, but she can’t bring herself to stop. You don’t reprimand her.

“As if you need to ask.”

“Of course I do. I want to hear you say it,” Your reply is firm. Stern, maybe - if you’re capable of such a thing. You step closer to her, your eyes meeting. “Tell me you want me to take care of you,”

It feels like an impossible ask. The fire in your gaze cuts away at whatever is left of her bratting. She’s only seen you be so serious when you were cutting down fiends on your journey together. Your hand slips against her waist, palm against her stomach with your fingers starting to grip tight. You lean in close to her, still looking. She wavers.

“I want,” Your hand reaches up for her face, cupping her cheek as she talks. She doesn’t know what aspect of it is more humiliating. The way she’s folding underneath the pressure or the restless excitement that follows the sound of your voice when you talk to her like that. Kind, always, but demanding too. “I want you to take…care of me,”

You smile at her, press your lips to her forehead and pepper them all along her face with a brilliant smile. Your hand secures around the nape of her neck, tilting her head up to look at you

“Wasn’t too hard, was it? My good girl,” Your foreheads brush. Immediately the rope gets in the way of everything. She wants to hug you, and maybe you’re aware because your smile goes characteristically tender again “You look like you want to cling onto me,”

In this state, she can’t hide away. She tucks her chin.

“Where’s your discretion? Don’t say it so blatantly,”

“It’s cute,” You offer her, as if that makes it any better. “Not yet. When I’ve gone and made you ditzy enough to whine about it, I’ll let you.”

After that, you kiss her. You use both hands to cup her face this time, and Shadowheart lets herself melt into it. Your breath is faint with the taste of wine, tongue sweet and aching as you kiss her slow and deep. All you do is kiss her, but you’ve never kissed her like this before. She’d remember something so salacious. You lead her through it, guide her with pace and practice. The rope around her wrists feel tighter, even though they’re not. Bound behind her back, exposed to you.

So little between you and she’s already aching to touch you.

“You have to be patient,” It’s like you read her mind, your nose brushing with hers “Patient and obedient and good. Can you be good?”

She stares at you when you talk. She can’t help but be pulled into your pace.

“...Hmph. I can be…good,”

“Mm,” You sit on the edge of the bed with your legs spread, and Shadowheart turns to watch you. There’s just enough room for her to seat herself between your legs. The message is clear immediately, as you pat your inner thigh expectantly and smile. She feels her whole body go flush with embarrassment “Sit. With your back towards me, okay?”

She debates it for a while. You look so sincere towards her, so kind. Walking slowly towards you, she turns and sits down between your legs. Her bound arms and back hit your chest as you pull her closer, your hands immediately go around to her chest. You cup her tits from behind, your chin resting on her shoulder as you squeeze the soft flesh between your fingers.

Your hands are burning, calloused from wielding weapons. In a low murmur, your voice brushes against the shell of her ear again. Whispery and soft like willows.

“Good girl,” You praise, kissing the space between her neck and shoulders. “You’re so beautiful. No wonder the gods fought over you.”

Your fingers brush over her nipples, and Shadowheart finds herself arching. It’s the first touch that’s been direct where she needs it. You rub circles, pinching and rolling as she starts to squirm as your lips press against her shoulder. Her body pricks with heat, every nerve on fire as she starts to feel the dull thrum of lust pooling in her belly.

So little has happened yet, but her head feels light. More. She wants more of you.

The voice of greed in the back of her mind is so new it scares her, but your touch distracts her from the swarm of thoughts threatening to topple everything over. Dexterous fingers make goosebumps appear all along her skin.

“Aah,” She moans and shudders, her hands tightening where they’re restrained. “Ngh,”

“You’re so sensitive here,” Your voice is awe filled. “How cute,”

It’s too much focus. Concentrated touches on the tender, hardened buds are enough to make her mind go haywire. They’re a part of her body you’ve always liked, keeping your mouth latched onto them no matter what position you’re in. You already know how euphoric it makes her feel, and your touch goes on forever. Toying with them, precious and sensitive, as the feeling starts coming to a steady incline Her clit is throbbing against the seam of her panties. The rest of her body begs for more attention. Instinctively, she closes her legs to relieve the pressure, but you’re quick to stop her.

“You don’t get to decide that, remember,” You remind her, your leg locking hers from crossing. She swears loudly. “If you want something, you ask me.”

“Is it not obvious what I want?”

“Good girls ask politely.” You remind.

“As if I’d answer something so —aah, apparent,”

Your hand reaches up to turn her head, a hand on her throat as you force her to look at you. Your grip isn’t tight. Your eyes lock with hers, barely an inch of space between you. You have that serious look again. She almost rescinds it but she’s too stubborn to let it go.

“Then sit and take what I give you.” You state, voice dressed with steel. There’s unmistakable care in them, but they make it clear that you expect Shadowheart to do more than listen. You expect her to behave. “You have two options. You can ask politely, for something. Or you’ll sit and take just as much as I give you. Is that clear?”

She wriggles against your lap, squirming aimlessly for some kind of friction. Shadowheart is strong but you’re stronger, more agile - and any attempt at taking what she wants is shot down just as quickly. She lays her head against your shoulder, struggling to look up at you. She pouts and remains silently.

Your hands have graduated to a soft massage of her tits, not even giving her direct attention. Her frown deepens.

“You’re—why aren’t you touching me at all?”

You’re quick to reply.

“Because you haven’t answered me. What do you want to do?”

It dawns on her too late that you intend to abide by these rules so strictly. She’s lost her stamina for this kind of endurance because of you, Sharran torment be damned. The fact you’d make her wait troubles her. You always give her what she asks for, in everything. The muscle memory to keep herself together has degraded, made her weak to your touch, more than normal. She’s not like this.

“You’re serious.” She says, less than asks.

She can feel your cheeky smile against her shoulder. You slide your hand down the plane of her body before settling between her legs, middle fingers going over the cottony fabric. Shadowheart shivers, laying against you.

“I want you to,” Her voice isn’t much more than a croak “I want you to touch me down…there.”

“Say please,”

“You—!,” She closes her eyes in mild exasperation before sighing “Please.”

“Good girl,” You praise affectionately “You’re pink all the way up to your ears. How sweet,”

“Would you please shut up?”

There’s no response to her words. You use your hands to tuck into the waistband of her underwear, dragging them off. Shadowheart uses her remaining unbound limbs to help you. Naked with her legs spread over your lap, her heart races as your hand rests on her tummy. You angle downwards, covering her whole sex. You dig your palm against her clit with barely there friction - an involuntary whimper leaving her lips.

You have a stunning amount of control over your movements, well practiced with every angle of her body. She’s made you that way, but she never thought it would be so easily used against her.

You tease like that in fair strokes. Your other hand cups the front of her throat, dragging your thumb along the thumping pulse of her heart. You’re kind enough not to say anything about how loudly it thumps, how shaky she’s breathing. Shadowheart makes a soft noise of want as your fingers drag through her sticky folds. Gathering her arousal on the tips of your fingers until you stop at her clit. She’s throbbing so much it’s painful, wet enough that it’s pooling underneath her tacky sheets. Embarrassing.

She gasps at the slow, smooth circles you rub her clit with. Familiar and controlled, a warm feeling of pleasure starts to spread through her stomach. Her head feels light, fluttery as she drops herself even further into you.

She wants more. This time though, she’s hyper aware of the fact she has to ask or you won’t give her more than this. She wants to cum and she wants it to be hard and fast. She just wants you in some unmanageable way.

“Your fingers,” She manages through a broken wheeze “Please. I want your hands, please.”

Your pause before laughing good naturedly at her. She swears under her breath.

“Stand up and turn around, baby.”

She huffs about it unhappily, but listens because the ache that’s starting to form is proving to be too much to fight against. You move yourself around and make room for her to sit in your lap again, this time facing you. She gets the message quickly enough, turns and straddles you on shaky legs. You use your hands to guide her in the position you want her in, hips held up enough for you to sneak your hand underneath her.

“You’re being such a good girl now,” You tease “Did you finally reach your breaking point?”

Her voice is clipped, comes out as a hard whine. She wants to wrap her arms around your neck and hold you. She wants to move freely but she can’t. And it’s hard. Cumbersome. She’s not at her breaking point, but her neediness is finally outweighing her embarrassment. It’s the way you exercise your authority that’s making all of it too hard.

“No,” She mumbles, as bashful as someone like her could even be “But…touch me,”

“Of course, my love.”

Shadowheart lets her eyelids droop when she feels your hands again. You cover your fingers in saliva as you settle underneath her sex. Your fingers are thicker and longer than hers. They feel different at this angle. You start with your middle finger. Shadowheart braces for entrance as she feels you push inside her tight hole. Your hand is steady and slow as you slow inch your first finger into her. They’re cool compared to the tight, wet heat of her cunt. She’s so turned on there’s hardly any resistance. Your middle finger curls as it bottoms out, down to the knuckle as you pause and let her get adjusted to the sensation. It doesn’t last long, patience wearing thin - she moans out for you, another muffled please.

You listen to her, at least. You give her another finger, your ring finger this time - repeat the process. Fucking her slow and deep until you’ve reached our knuckle, letting her hole stretch out around you and pumping inside until there’s no longer and resistance at all.

“More?” You ask. Shadowheart trembles and nods her head.

“More,”

You give her another one, your pointer - and that’s finally what makes her feel full. She shakes in your grasp as you secure her waist with your free hand. The roundest part of your palm pushes up against her sex, clit throbbing as her head gets light. She’s so stretched out. You curl your fingers inside her, pressing and searching until you hit the right spot.

She moans brokenly as soon as you find it. Your fingers curl against the spongy area, silken walls clamping down and pulsing on your hand.

You kiss her sternum, angling to take one of her tits in your mouth as you start to find a rhythm. Shadowheart leans in naturally, letting more of her weight fall on you. She can feel the heat start to prick against her skin as you find a pace to fingerfuck her with. You start gently at least, giving her time to adjust.

When you hit a rhythm, you’re no longer so gentle. Your fingers fuck her open ruthlessly, her cunt made a wet mess from arousal. The room fills with the sound of it, making her body flush with embarrassment. Pleasure starts to overwhelm her, the sound of her own voice lost in the vulgarity of your touch. Her body rocks slowly, abdomen clenched as her body starts to tense up. Little jolts of unabashed pleasure start to rack up into full waves of need.

Her head feels heavy, tongue too big for her mouth. Drawn out and winded up to the point it’s painful, the actual full touch is as overwhelming as it is good.

“I’m gonna—it’s,”

You click your teeth. “Not until you ask sweet girl,”

Shadowheart feels like she could nearly cry. God, you’re awful like this. She doesn't’ hate it though.

“Fuck, please. P-please let me cum, please.”

“Good girl. My good girl. You can cum. Cum for me.” You praise low before latching yourself back to her tits, turning the pleasure all the way up and keeping pace.

She doesn’t just cum. Something else comes rushing out, a hot stream squirting all along the bed. It gets on your clothed skin, all over your body as a wave of relief overwhelms her top to bottom. She goes taut like a bowstring, orgasm ripping through her like a knife as she cums hard enough she screams. It feels like it goes on forever. Her body trembles and pulses as you fuck her through it, only stopping when she starts to come down.

Before she gains awareness of her surroundings, she feels your sticky hands go back and around to her wrists - skillfully undoing the knot without even having to look. When her hands are finally free, the first thing she does is wrap them around your neck and hold you as she collapses her weight into your lap.

“You alright there, my love? You with me?”

“Hn,” She mumbles, nuzzling her face against your shoulder “I’m… fine. Just a little tired.”

“You’re stubborn to the very end, aren’t you? Your arms feel alright? No pain?”

“Just sore,” She replies, and a little less lucidly “Gods that felt so good. I didn’t know you had that in you. I didn’t know I had that in me.”

You laugh heartily at her observation, but choose not to embarrass her. “That’s good. And I always knew you did. You did so well, my love.”

She pulls away, doe eyed and no longer able to care about how embarrassing it is.

“I want more,” She says, keeping back a wince at that whine in her own voice “I want to make you feel good, too.”

You smile, rubbing her back.

“Should I spoil you then and let you?”

She nods silently, mind absent of her usual wit - overwhelmed with want for you.

“Get on your knees then for me, baby.”

And she does, almost too quick. She watches you, green eyes lidded with lust as you undo the top button of your pants and beckon her closer.

“Come here and eat.”

#shadowheart x reader #bg3 x reader #shadowheart smut #bg3 smut #writing tag #i will upload on ao3 in a bit

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floatmeintothesun · 1 year

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Sanguine

Summary-You persuade Diluc to indulge in his desires…(vampire!Diluc x reader)

Tw- blood, slight mention of injuries, nothing really big

Tags- Vampire Diluc, fluff, slight injury, gender neutral reader, comfort

—

“...no. I’m afraid I can’t do that, darling,” Diluc denies you, giving you a look. You frown.

“Why not? I’m fine with it,” You tilt your head and he sighs. His crimson eyes flicker brightly for a second at my words, before the glimmer fades out.

“I’m not going to bite you. I--” You hold up a finger shushing him with a pout.

“Well you need blood, don’t you? I double as your lovely partner and a walking food source for you. I know you won’t take too much. I trust you,” You say resolutely and he squeezes his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I am not going to take your blood. And I’m certainly not degrading you to being a food source to me,” He says firmly and you sigh, sitting down next to him on the couch. Out of habit, his arm naturally loops around your waist and pulls you closer to him. He mumbles something under his breath and you poke him in the stomach, making him shoot you a half-hearted glare.

“Come on, ‘Luc. Why not?” You ask and he frowns.

“You know why. I can’t risk accidentally taking too much from you. I don’t want to hurt you,” He mumbles, and you make a face.

“But I trust you. You’ve got amazing self-control,” You say, and Diluc nearly wants to cry out in frustration. He does have good self-control, he’s trained himself for this, but Archons, he certainly hadn’t trained himself for you.

You, with your deliciously sweet scent and your delectable enticing blood--he doesn’t know if he can restrain himself. He turns away from you, trying not to think about how easy it’d be, to just lean over, grab your wrist and just bite--

“No. No, I will not,” He manages to rasp, his throat feeling uncomfortably dry. He glares at you. He should move away from you, he really should, it’s not helping his situation at all…but he just can’t tear himself away from your side. Your horribly mouthwatering scent surrounds him and he contemplates simply not breathing so he doesn’t have to risk snapping.

The much more instinctive side begs him to just give in, to listen because you said it was okay, you're insisting he drink and take and bite and devour, to just give in and he shoves the almost overwhelming urge down.

You reach up to brush his bangs away from his face and he nearly groans, hearing and practically feeling the blood rush through your veins, but he lets you do so, forcing himself not to react.

“I trust you. I do with my life,” You say and he grits his teeth. His fingers twitch and you can see his pupils dilate for a split second before returning to normal. You can see his self-restraint slip, just for a millisecond and he turns around, turning his face away from you.

“...you’re an insufferable human,” He mumbles, taking your hand in his, and looking back at you. You smile.

“I’m your insufferable human,” You say cheekily, and he hesitates, before sighing heavily.

His eyes flare their bright crimson color and you blink at how urgent his tone of voice is. “The second you feel faint, or dizzy, or tired, just tell me and I swear I’ll stop. You have to tell me,” You bob your head up and down, grinning victoriously at his caving in.

He closes his eyes for a second, before sighing again.

“Are you gonna bite my neck? Like in those vampire novels?” You ask curiously, and he startles, looking at you with surprise before his brain clouds over with want. He wonders if you know how intimate those are considered to be…

I want to, I want to claim you there, I want everyone to know that you’re mine, I want them to know how inseparable we are, He thinks, before shaking his head, trying to clear his mind of those instinctual urges.

(He knows that it’s not entirely instinctual but he won’t admit it out loud)

“No. I’ll just take some from your wrist. That’ll be enough,” He murmurs, gently grabbing your arm and lifting it upward. He observes it, his mouth watering slightly at the thought of piercing through and finally, finally feeding on that sweet ichor.

Remember to stop, He reminds himself quietly.

You squeak in surprise when he presses small kisses to your wrist, and he relishes in the sound, opening his mouth and teasingly lapping at the delicate skin. He can hear the steady thrum of blood flowing through your veins and he pauses.

“Last chance to say no,” He says roughly, his voice dark with hunger. You only smile at him, baring your wrist further and he sighs. “Alright. Get ready,”

He hesitates for one more second before he opens his mouth widely, the light glinting off of his long and sharpened canines. You close your eyes, jumping as you feel his fangs sink into your flesh.

There’s only a slight flash of quick agony before it’s swept under a wave of tingly numbness. You watch in fascination as he presses his mouth to the wound, crimson staining his lips and teeth.

A low groan vibrates in Diluc’s chest, closing his eyes, because goddamn it, you’re so sweet, so good, and you’re all for him. The taste is better than he could have ever imagined, and he swallows it down with greedy eagerness.

It’s finer than anything he’s ever had, sweetened with your genuine care for him and your intent to help him. It’s so filling, but somehow he simply can’t get enough of that purely addictive life flowing through your veins.

For a split-second, his desire takes over, igniting deep in his stomach and he wants--he wants so badly, to just drain you dry, to take it all, to drink until he’s gorged on your blood--

He tears himself away from your wrist, panting heavily and trying to blink away the craving to feast on your flesh. He swallows thickly, the sweet taste of blood coating his throat deliciously.

“...You…are you okay? He asks, looking up at you worriedly. You smile, patting his arm in reassurance.

“Yeah, I’m good, don’t worry,” You say, and he sighs, using his thumb to neatly swipe away the ruby droplets away from his mouth, absently lapping them up before grabbing a medical kit.

“No dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath? Anything?” You shake your head, and he nods, already wrapping a bandage tightly around the area he had bitten carefully. He licks his lips, tugging you onto the couch and tucking you into his side possessively.

You blink at the sudden act of affection, raising an eyebrow. He glances at you, somewhat bashfully.

“Ah. After I feed I tend to indulge my…more possessive vampiric traits,” He admits after a moment, his large hand placed protectively over your hip. He makes a face when you laugh, burying his head into your shoulder grumpily.

“Are you full now? Do you need more?” You ask and he makes a soft huffing noise through his nose, that might have been a disbelieving laugh. He’s more than sated now.

“No. I think I’ll be fine…for a month and a half. Maybe two,” He makes a shrugging motion, lazily soaking in your warmth and affection. He can feel your hands slowly combing through his ruby-red hair and he sighs, relaxing at the soothing ministrations. “You definitely don't need to give me more of your blood for a while,”

“...did I taste good?”

“What? Why would you even ask that?”

“I don't know. I’m curious! It’s not like I regularly get to ask vampires what I taste like,”

“It’s a stupid question,”

“Answer it, please,”

“You’re insufferable,”

“So you’ve said. Come on, stop deflecting. Tell me!”

“You’re a pain. Not really. But still,”

“Hey! ‘Luc, get back over here, don't leave!”

#diluc x reader #diluc x you #diluc x y/n #Vampire diluc #genshin impact x reader #Fluff #genshin impact #genshin diluc

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simmireen · 1 year

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I was thinking about remastering my first pack, but ended up making a new one. I know it looks pretty much the same as the first one, but it is different.. (and better) 'desire kisses 2’ 6 couple almost kissing poses for your lovers ♥

DOWNLOAD (SFS) DOWNLOAD (Patreon) (always free!) You can find part 1 here

♥~♥

The poses work with Teleport any Sim and Andrew’s Pose Player The posepack is as usual provided with previews. These poses are somewhat gender-neutral, but there can be minor clipping or floating because every sim-body is different. I really would like to see if you use my poses! So tag me at tumblr, instagram or twitter (@simmireen) You can find an overview of all my posepacks at Pinterest You can support me on my Ko-Fi page > but never feel obliged to tip! Terms of use Don’t claim as yours or put behind a paywall Don’t re-edit (adjusting hands is always allowed, just don’t change up my pose) Don’t reupload Oh, and let me know if something doesn’t work! @ts4-poses @sssvitlanz

#posepack #simmireen #sims 4 poses #alwaysfreecc #sims 4 pose #couple poses #love poses #kissing poses #sims4 #sims #ts4 #thesims4 #ts4cc #sims4cc #posemaker #sims poses

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definitelynotbrucewayne · 4 months

Text

Minthara Beanre x Reader

TWs/Tags: Dom!Minthara, Sub!reader/Tav, horny telepathy stuff, size difference (if you squint), mild bondage, begging, extremely minor (non-sexual) reference to gore, AFAB reader but gender-neutral terms are used

As requested by @superanonymousthethird

I hope you like it :3

Sent to siege their leaders, you and your cohorts walked through the damp, goblin-infested halls of the former temple. After passing the guard’s inspection, you wandered the unfamiliar building with them in mind— the cleric, the hobgoblin, and the Drow. You entered an open room with a war table. And leaning above it was her, the Drow. She looked up from the map to gaze at you intensely, a scorching-hot carmine stare to make your stomach drop. With a gulp, you could feel her presence suppress your former sense of confidence. As she turns to you, her thoughts mingle with yours. With your security shook, your tadpoles connect telepathically. “Another True Soul?” Her eyebrows pinch together curiously. “You will join me. I’ve been tasked by the Absolute to exterminate these vermin non-believers.” You nod in response, eager to follow her command to your partymembers’ concern. You learn the Drow’s name to be Minthara as she further presses you for information on the whereabouts of the tiefling colony.

“It appears we are organized to commence the onslaught.” She grins venomously. “I thank you for your cooperation, True Soul. We will leave at dawn to fight. But I am afraid I will not be finished with you by then.” With that comment, she leaves you until the morning.

The day begins with you fastening your armor undisturbed. Suddenly, a presence perturbs your thoughts. You don’t need her to be there physically to know that Minthara is communing with you.

“I will see you on the battlefield, yes?” Her shrill, commanding voice rings through your mind. Images of you and her flash in front of your eyes— her body over yours in ascendency, binding your wrists. You gasp from the shocking sight, your face flushed as her devious chuckle plays through your mind via tadpole. “I hope that’s not too ardent for my True Soul.” The cocky comment echoes before she severs the connection.

You return from the battle drenched in blood and viscera. Forgoing the celebration, you clean your body and armor of the remnants of the battle. Occupying your mind unrelentingly was not the dozens of lives you claimed just hours ago, but Nightwarden Minthara. This, she could sense. Restraining herself from teasing you with more projections of yourselves together, she instead approaches you outside the matters of the mind.

“Not concerned with the celebration, True Soul?” Minthara looks down at you as you sit on a stool beside the flowing river. Unlike the others, she adorns her full armor; augmenting her prowess. You feel underdressed in comparison, wearing only your undershirt and pants. She stares at you as she kneels down to your level. “You fought excellently against those blasphemers.” She reaches to unbutton your shirt. You’re paralyzed as she dotes on your shirt, pulling it off of you. She stands back, expecting you to stand up. When you don’t respond as such, she gently grabs your wrists to lead you to the nearby partially collapsed structure. Sandwiching your body between hers and the wall, she aggressively puts her lips on yours. She licks your bottom lip; your jaw drops for her. “So obedient.” She says as her hand holds your chin, angling it so your gaze matches hers.

“Now, will we be executing those trussed-up fantasies you’ve been having? I want you nice and secure when I take you tonight.” You nod vehemently in agreement. “It is decided,” she chuckles at your enthusiasm. “Tonight, you are mine.”

She pushes you down to sit beneath her. Piquing your curiosity, she reaches for something in a concealed pocket. As she takes it out, you can see a collection of leather straps, completely unused. “As you can see, I’ve anticipated this encounter with you. The Absolute operates is mysterious ways, would you say?” She remarks rhetorically as she wraps them around your wrists, binding them together above your head. She stands back, looming above you as if admiring an artwork of her creation. Leaning back down to your level, she angles her arm above your head, holding both of your bound hands in her singular, larger one. She bows down for another kiss, holding your cheek with her free hand. That free hand soon travels down your abdomen and into your trousers. At a single touch of your cunt, you moan into the kiss. “Hmm, sensitive are we?” She whispers sadistically, clearly deriving amusement from your whimpers. She continues by dipping a pair of fingers into your heat. A loud gasp escapes your mouth in response. When was the last time you did this again?

Minthara pushes her fingers in, diving deeper against the inside of you while still sucking at your lips. You struggle against her as she senses the tension building in your core. The tension rises and gets tighter until she suddenly removes herself from you. Deprived, you look up to her with a confused expression.

“Don’t worry, little one. I’ll allow you finish.” She moves down lower, pulling down your pants farther. “But I have to know you want it.”

Your face grows red at her words. She wants you to beg for release. “Please. Please, Minthara,” you begun, unsure of what to say.

“Is that all you have for me, little warrior?” She stares at you, unimpressed, as she teased a thumb against your clit.

“Please, Minthara, I need your mouth, your tongue. I need you. I’m yours,”

“That was just perfect, little one.” She smirks with endearment before yanking the trousers off your legs, leaning down to tongue your clit. You cry out in pleasure again, gripping her hair gently as she goes down on you. She holds your torso in place, pulling you closer when needed. She licks and laps at your cunt, eating you out ravenously. That familiar tension builds and knots in your stomach again. This time, Minthara intends to see your completion the whole way through. Your jaw drops once more and your eyes roll into the back of your skull as she licks a final stripe up your lips.

As you ride out the high, she makes her way up your body to kiss you again. This time, it’s slow and tired, but all-the-same genuine. She unties you before laying down next to you. You hold onto her form tightly, legs still shaking. Not having the heart to move you from her, she takes your weakened body in her arms and you doze off together.

#Minthara X reader #minthara X tav #Bg3 #bg3 X reader #bg3 fanfiction #size difference #Dom!minthara #Dommy mommy #The drussy got me writing fanfic again #baldurs gate 3 #Writing request #Possible sequel???#BG3 smut #minthara baenre

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bg-brainrot · 2 months

Text

A Bloody Sacrament (Astarion x GN!Durge)

Featuring: Astarion x Evil!Durge

Genre: Smut

Rating: Explicit, 18+

Series: Fits into A Star in the Dark, AO3 link here

Summary: After fulfilling the Tribunal’s task and becoming Bhaal's unholy assassin, you bathe yourself in a pool of blood. You wouldn’t mind spending the rest of your day doused in red, but lucky for you, you have a lover who is only too happy to clean you up.

Tags: Violence, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blood As Lube, seriously a lot of blood like too much blood please be warned, Smut, Voyeurism, Semi-Public Sex, Masturbation, Fingering, Oral Sex, Dom Astarion, Vampire Ascendant Astarion, Pain, smidge of praise kink, smidge of overstimulation, aftercare sort of, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, POV Second Person, Evil Dark Urge, gender-neutral smut

A/N: If you follow me for my fun, fluffy stuff, I’m sorry, please feel free to look away c’: This is going dark and bloody (and uh, gross if you think about it too long). But sometimes I need to let my inner Durge out. Seriously mind the tags! Spoilers for all of Act 3. This is a Durge that has gone along with *everything* Astarion says, says the most evil things possible, is manipulating him just as they did him, and fully plans on taking over the world for their father. Naturally this is evil-evil Durge so like, tread carefully!

Word count: ~4k

The Murder Tribunal hums in satisfaction. You, the very slayer of Bhaal, prevail before them, standing in a crimson pool of your own making.

You have butchered the pathetic celestial, a hollyphant who dared play investigator. Now it is time to bathe in her blood, take your place as Bhaal’s Unholy Assassin, and prove yourself every bit your father’s child. Your head pounds, the bloodlust overwhelming as you inhale the scent of her ungodly demise, but you maintain enough focus to step forward.

Yes, your blood sings. Douse yourself in this pathetic creature's entrails, cleanse any remaining part of you that may still resist your calling.

Every stride brings you closer to release, to a greatness you know is yours to claim. When your foot finally dips into the pool of blood before you, you throw your head back in elation – yes, you’ve earned this.

Deeper into the basin you walk, down its slick steps, each one pulling you further down. It seems deeper than you thought possible, though perhaps it’s a matter of perspective. After all, as you surrender yourself, your body, to the cult of Bhaal, it’s clear the depths that you would go for the sake of your father’s unholy agenda are far, far deeper.

You reach the center of the pool, where you release yourself to your very nature. In the eye of the temple’s sacred bath, your body is consumed and into its crimson liquid, you sink– down, down, down…

Fantasies of a world built upon your whims invade your mind. Tears of blood run down soft, pathetic cheeks. A river of red courses through the city, fed by bodies you’ve slain. You see seas of blood that would put this pathetic pool to shame. All of it, every last drop, in the name of your lord, your god, your father: Bhaal.

It feels like years of these beautiful delusions, so when finally you snap out of them you sit up with a gasp. You’re not sure how long you were under, but judging from the unaffected looks of your companions, what felt like a lifetime was truly, merely a moment.

As you rise from your sanguine sacrament, blood drips from your hands, your arms, your legs. Every inch of you is stained red with the sins you’ve committed. It’s a delectable sensation, one that shoots up your spine, brings a heat to your core similar to when you’ve enacted a particularly brutal killing. You feel good.

You almost don’t notice Sarevok’s praise, the gift he bestows upon you– it’s exactly what you need to finally fell that wretch of a changeling you call a relative. You take it, utter some words you’re sure, but your mind is a million miles away, enveloped in images of blood and flesh.

When Sarevok and the rest of the Tribunal leave the room, you’re left alone with your companions: Minthara, Shadowheart, and Astarion. They seem to be speaking to you, but all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears.

You shake your head– no, maybe there is actual blood in your ears.

“Are you alright?” you hear Shadowheart ask, a hint of distaste to her tone.

Minthara’s low chuckle follows and she says, “They are more than ‘alright.’ That was glorious. When we finally take control of this city, we shall all bathe in blood once more."

Astarion is unexpectedly quiet, watching you carefully with his ruby red eyes. Ever since he completed the Rite of Profane Ascension and took his rightful role as the vampire ascendent, he’d been anything but quiet. He’d laughed and murdered with glee. He’d even killed you, body and mind, only to bring you back more bloodthirsty than ever.

Ever since, you’d felt a connection to him unlike before. The tadpole in your brain ensures that you are not subservient to him, but you still feel tied to him by an unforeseen force. One that pulls you toward him, even now. It tells you that this look is meant for you, and you only.

“It’s as Minthara says,” you answer. “I am more than fine. I do, however, need to speak with Astarion. Alone.”

The two women exchange a glance. They’d grown used to your new relationship with Astarion, just as they’d gotten used to your previous relationship with him. Both had made a few comments, thinly veiled criticism of your choices in Shadowheart’s case, unadulterated mirth in Minthara’s case. Regardless, they know better than to get between the two of you.

“We’ll be at the entrance then,” Shadowheart says, turning away.

“And do hurry. Revenge awaits us both,” Minthara adds, following her out.

Astarion simply continues to stare at you, eyes narrowing to slivers as his lids drop in a predatory gaze. Once he’s given you a full once over, he speaks, his voice a dangerous rumble, “My beautiful, precious consort. You’re quite the mess aren’t you. Luckily for you, I would be happy to help. After all, you look good enough to eat.”

Your body warms, your limbs tingle, as if you’re able to feel every lingering trace of the man’s eyes on your body. Perhaps you can, given your intimate, everlasting bond. “Devour me then, my love,” you respond, beginning to walk toward him.

“Tut tut,” he warns, stopping you with an open palm. You pause, halfway between him and the pool of blood behind you. “You’ll receive my attention soon enough. First,” he licks his lips. “I think you ought to prepare yourself for me. Make my meal worth it.”

“Gladly,” you say, with a shallow gulp, your throat thick with a building desire. This is all part of the new game he likes to play, one you are only too happy to oblige. For you, his closest, most beloved treasure, he would do anything– but only if you showed him how much you wanted it. Begged for it.

You didn’t mind– for now. Let him have his fun and games, you think. It must be nice playing the master. But once this is all said and done, I know who shall wield the netherstones, I know who shall dominate the brain. All in the name of Bhaal.

Standing here, in the midst of your father’s bloody keep, newly bestowed with the title of his most unholy assassin, you strip your body bare.

As each piece of your armor comes off, you maintain eye contact with your lover, drinking in his wicked, openly lustful expression. At the sight of your bare chest, his smile widens. Once your bottoms are off, he takes a step closer, almost within your reach, but not quite.

Your building arousal is evident to him. Killing the hollyphant, coating yourself in blood, and now stripping before him, you certainly feel ready for him– though you know he wants more from you than that. Won’t take that final step until you’re well and truly pleading. You lower a hand between your thighs, starting with a gentle, teasing stroke.

“Good,” Astarion murmurs, eyes fixating on your hand, watching as you begin a more frenzied rhythm, as your fingers, slick with blood, are almost fumbling in their eagerness. Still, he doesn’t come closer, keeps his arms crossed as he watches in interest.

“Faster, my pet.” You go faster, beginning to pant as you work yourself up.

“A bit more pressure, darling.” You apply more pressure, barely muting the groan that comes to your lips.

“Now, now. Don’t be afraid to speak up. You do know how I adore your voice,” he murmurs, swiping his tongue over his bottom lip in anticipation.

You both know that there isn’t a door to this room, its stone entryway is wide and open to the ghosts of Bhaal’s tribunal. However, you also know that these ghosts are inconsequential, memories of those who were unable to bring glory to your father’s name– they should fear you and your ecstasy.

So you do as Astarion commands, allowing your mouth to drop open, an unrepentant moan exiting your lips as you continue to pleasure yourself.

Surely, this is enough for your lover. Your legs begin to tremble as you work yourself into a fervor and you don’t know how much longer you can last with his lidded eyes watching your every twitch.

But, of course, the vampire ascendent is unrelenting in his power. His next demand comes with a soft purr to his voice, betraying none of the wicked indulgence on his face, “My little love, relax. And make sure that you don’t ruin my meal.”

At first, you’re unsure what he means– how can you relax when the heat within you boils to a fever pitch? But you see the way his gaze drops down your body, tracing the rivulets of blood that have begun to pool at your feet. Ah.

It’s been long enough that the blood from your sanguine bath has begun to trickle off of you, a waste really. So you drop to your knees before the pool, run your hands across its crimson surface, and return to your own aching core.

Your hands a bloody red, coat your throbbing arousal in a few swift motions. Looking back up at Astarion from your reverent position before him, you ask, “Better?”

The low growl he gives you would be answer enough, but he still deigns to offer you a response, “Oh much.” His next movements are smooth, peeling off each article of his clothing as he continues to watch you through hooded eyes. “Consecrated in the blood of innocents, simply dripping for me. What more could I ask for?”

You can tell from the way that Astarion’s hands work his trousers, he’s already grown hard at the mere sight of you. The soft moan that leaves him as he brushes his cock almost brings you to the edge right then and there. Because this vampire lord, ruler of the night and nightmare among men, simply cannot wait any longer to pleasure you.

While he’s become more pristine, more poised in his ascension– he’s also become far more bestial. It shows in the way he tears an enemy in half, and it shows in the way he wantonly tears through you as soon as he's given the chance. So the lord falls, naked, to his knees before you, crawling over your kneeling body with hunger and purpose.

“Astarion,” you start, moving to reach out to him, to capture his beautiful lips with yours. But you're only met with an upheld hand.

“Not yet, my treasure.” His hand lands on your thigh, gripping it, and prying your legs apart. “I must tend to my consort first."

Then his mouth drops onto you.

Astarion's practiced tongue is normally quite an indulgent experience for you, a way for him to tend to you, as he said. But today, his tongue laps in a long, languid movement, capturing every bit of the blood that coats you. He moves so slowly, too slowly. It feels sinful, the way he teases. Your hips buck in response, your legs instinctively clench, but he grips you in place all the same.

“Astarion,” you breath out, barely able to hold another coherent thought as your bloody hands find his head, twining into his hair for dear life. ”Faster, please.”

He tilts his head up, giving you a bloody grin. “I simply must savor you first. Especially when you’ve prepared such a luscious meal.”

You can tell he likes this, your desperation. It gives him a sense of power and control he’s longed for for so long– and you, the chosen of Bhaal, his newly minted unholy assassin, are an utter prize to torment. He won’t give you what you want until he’s satisfied, and you’re starting to believe that this man can never be fully sated, even freed from his sanguine hunger.

So you plead, this time with more need in your voice, “Please, Astarion.”

“Oh, very well then. Whatever my precious consort desires,” he murmurs, pressing a soft, fleeting kiss on the soft, inner skin of your thigh.

Then he’s back on you, his tongue picking up speed as he circles your arousal. Your breath catches, your fingers tighten on his hair and once more you’re brought to the precipice. Pleasure builds in your core as he begins to suckle, drawing out of you a cry of sheer rhapsody.

The vampire’s fingers dig into your flesh as he sucks hard, and the pressure in you snaps. Your back arches as you come, thighs fighting against your lover’s grip. You hold his head to you tightly as he continues to nurse you in soft, rhythmic draws. Like the precious fiend you are, he cradles your hips to his mouth as he eases you down from your high.

Your vision swims and the blood that you’ve streaked through Astarion’s hair feels like the only thing in focus. It glistens red, whispering to you the sweet caress of blood and gore– in your euphoria, the man before you looks godly in his disarray.

“You’re beautiful,” you murmur, slurring your words in your stupor.

Astarion lifts his head, looking up at you through his long lashes. “As are you, my sweet.”

You produce a breathy laugh, knowing that you look a mess, still coated in more blood than usual– but also knowing that he means it. Especially as he continues crawling up your body, tongue tracing each line of blood, lapping at you as if a man possessed.

Each stroke of his tongue serves in equal measure to clean you as it does to reignite the fire in your belly. Inch by bloody inch, he licks along every rich ruby rivulet he can reach as he works his way up. The thought of this man, not cleansing you of your sins, but rather drinking them in, relishing them on his equally vicious tongue– well, you're far beyond any amount of shame, and your moans of pleasure cascade off the room's stone walls in a raucous symphony.

Finally, he reaches your face, hovering just above your lips as his tongue licks his own free of blood. "Now, my little love… tell me what it is you want from me,” he commands.

You’re still reeling from the feel of his mouth on you, speech seems too tall of an order at the moment. In fact, right now, the only things you can think of are his red eyes, beautiful bloody hair, and his stiff arousal, pressing into you.

So you reach down, trailing your bloody hand along the length of him, guiding him toward you in a wordless request.

"Use your words, darling," he says, nearly brushing your lips with his as he grinds into your hand to punctuate his sentence.

"Take me," you manage to gasp out. Then you take a deep, shuddering breath. You let the urge overtake you. "Let us sanctify this unholy ground. Show it the depths of our depravity." You squeeze his cock in another silent demand, devouring the groan that escapes him as you cover his mouth with your own.

Losing yourself in his flavor, metallic, and tasting distinctly of your own fluids, you only barely manage to remember to breathe. Your head spins, but he is all you want in your lungs. You’re not sure what triggers this desperation, whether it be the instincts within you or the very nature of the vampire before you, but you do know that it compels you to take every bit of him you can.

So you stroke at his length, consuming each and every noise he makes like the ravenous beast you are. He nips at your lips, a playful reprimand, but one that you take seriously.

You pull away from him, and you're both panting into each other when his next demand comes, "I will give you all that you ask of me. But first, you must lay back."

First one leg, then the other, you lay yourself beneath him. As you roll back into the pool of blood you had been kneeling in, his eyes trail you hungrily. Beneath the man’s crimson gaze, you feel every bit the depraved demigod you are. Like your cruel, tool of a body was made for him to ravish.

Astarion reaches behind you, hands skimming the basin of blood and coming back dripping crimson. To your questioning look, he merely smirks.

It's only a moment later that his hands are back between your legs. Coated with blood as they are, his dexterous fingers move fluidly to work your arousal back up. "Astarion,” you gasp out, still sensitive from his mouth’s earlier ministrations. “I need you, not– not this.”

“Patience,” he murmurs, looking down at you with a deceptively soft smile. His fingers leave your throbbing core, slipping past it to find your entrance. A single gentle, probing finger teases you, as he asks, “How much of me do you desire, my sweet love?”

“More,” you groan out, lifting your hips to meet him in your need. Again, the urge within screams. “Give me everything, and it will never be enough. I would have our very flesh coalesce so that I may be interred within your corpse at the end of the world.”

Astarion slows his finger momentarily, bends down to kiss your hateful lips, and whispers, “My lovely little lunatic, how poetic.” Then a second finger joins the first, and he’s pumping into you. Slowly at first, but his pace picks up as he finds a spot that makes you squirm.

The sound of his blood-slicked fingers entering you, over-and-over, seems to be too much for either of you to bear for long. Soon, his fingers slip out of you, his cock replacing them at your entrance before you can so much as moan his name.

Then he presses into you, truly melding your flesh with his own. He feels harder than he has before, fueled by the basin’s supply of blood. Inch by bloody inch, he enters you, and, but for a moment, your insatiable, bloody lust is satisfied by this man. Your back arches in response and your dark urges fall to much more primal ones as you attempt to clutch the slick stone beneath you. “A-Astarion,” you pant out. “Take me. Please.”

“You’ve been so good,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around each of your thighs as he leverages himself, preparing for what you’re certain will be his finest performance yet. “It’s only right that you receive your reward.”

Then he pulls out, every so slightly, grins at you with a bloody, fanged mouth, and begins pounding into you.

Any normal Baldurian would balk at the force with which the man drives into you. But you are Bhaalspawn. You dwell within a realm where pleasure and pain walk hand-in-hand. And Astarion knows that– knows the limits of your wicked, bruised body.

As such, his savage thrusts are more than welcome. Your eyes close and your head rolls back as you bask in them. You find yourself to be the one issuing orders as he drives into you, again and again, “Harder. Harder.”

His fingers grip your thighs tighter as he strains to pick up the pace, to plunge into you with as much force as his sordid consort demands. The loud, lewd sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, punctuated by your needy cries, your lover’s grunts of exertion.

Yes, you think. Yes, break me, break Bhaal’s chosen, so that I may be rebuilt upon my own bones. Kill me to bring me back. Strip me down to lay me to waste. Cleanse me of this blood only to coat me in your own essence.

You feel your mind slipping away and your urges taking over once more as the peak of your pleasure approaches, as Astarion fucks the last sense out of you.

Eyes shut, hips sore, and mouth calling your vampire lord’s name, your climax comes crashing upon you in a wave of pure bliss.

It’s enough to send the man in front of you into a renewed fervor. Astarion grips your legs all the tighter, dipping his head forward to bite into the meat of your thigh. Fangs buried, he draws a deep gulp, relishing the taste of your orgasm in your blood.

Pulse after pulse, he plunges into you while he sucks from your veins, riding your orgasm to the last. It leaves you lightheaded and breathing heavily, but euphoric all the same.

When he finally releases your thigh from his mouth, his pace grows even more punishing. You’re certain that neither of you are leaving this unbruised, and, by the gods below, you love it. The painful slap of his hips against yours is intoxicating and you're not certain you ever want it to end. The world could collapse around you both right now, and you may not even notice it over the sound of your debauchery.

Then the vampire begins to flatter, his pace cracking as he approaches his climax.

“Not yet,” you moan, unwilling to let the feeling go. “Astarion, please.”

He doesn’t seem capable of responding, his only answer is a quiet whimper. You finally open your eyes, looking down at the man between your thighs– to see the tinge of red on his cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his brow, the tension of his neck muscles as he overexerts himself. The vampire ascendant looks utterly obscene in his unraveling.

Enough so that you clench around him, spurring on his release. “Come for me, love,” you urge, panting in anticipation of his undoing.

And he does.

Mouth open, dribbles of blood still eking out of its corners, hair shining silver and red, he looks a vision of rosy marble as he spills into you. His hands drop to your ass as he rolls into you through his climax, softer and slower than before. It’s almost sweet, if not for the bruising indents his fingers have left behind.

When he slips out of you, spent and exhausted, you can’t help but feel that in helping you clean up, he’s become quite the sight himself. You wish you could engrave this image of him into your mind, blood smeared across his face, his body, his softening cock.

You suppose it’s up to you to help him clean up.

“Astarion,” you say, sitting up and reaching for him. “Now who looks the mess?”

He gives you a low chuckle, as he crawls forward toward you, fatigued in his movements. “Oh, it’s still you, my treasure.” His crimson eyes rake across your body as he climbs lazily onto your lap, assessing the damage. “While the color red will always suit you, it wouldn’t do to waste any of this blood.”

“Was the hollyphant that satisfying?” you can’t help but ask, a smidge annoyed. “You seemed all too willing to drink from me, all the same.”

“You are the finest meal a lord could ask for, my little love,” he murmurs, before leaning forward and licking a line along your neck. “There is, however, something quite palatial about an entire pool of blood.”

“I suppose,” you concede, craning your neck for him. “If we ask nicely, perhaps my father will bestow this one upon us.”

Astarion hums into your skin with amusement. "Oh, darling. When we build our palace, we shall need a dozen such pools of blood." He pulls your hand to his lips, slowly sucking each finger clean.

You sigh, allowing the man’s clever tongue to lap at you, allowing his delusions of grandeur to comfort him. After all, when all is said and done, the realm will be decimated, destroyed in the name of Bhaal.

At least for now, you will allow yourself to live in his fantasy. So you simply reply, "And I shall be glad to fill each and every pool with the blood of our enemies."

He continues to lick, as you lavish him with praise. All the while you can’t help but think that you quite enjoy your new position as the unholy assassin of Bhaal. Hopefully father continues to throw me into situations involving such vast quantities of blood.

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