#jo's 23rd birthday bash ⋆｡°✩

[ma1dita]

Congratulations on 23! not a book reader but I remember reading somewhere that there's a rule that boys and girls who aren't related ofc be alone in the cabins together. Imagine this rule got implemented bc of Luke and posideon! reader

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x poseidon!reader

not sure if this was supposed to be a smut request but guys look what you've done to me this is all yalls fault

a/n: smut... a bit of godly desecration & blasphemy?...is this dark!luke? luke said fuck the gods literally...no dialogue...wrap before you tap bc they dont (luke castellan x poseidon!reader)

wc: 603

It had been raining at Camp Half-Blood for a whole month.

No amount of prayers from Cabin 7 nor Mr. D's control over the atmosphere of his camp could change this—and everyone was doing their hardest to figure out why.

You and Luke however, were having the time of your lives— with camp activities canceled due to the downpour, it gave you more time to bundle up under the covers and within each other's arms. It wasn't a secret per say, just something so natural between the both of you. Like crashing tides, he'd fall into your embrace over and over for as long as the gods would allow. But sometimes, he liked spiting them for the fun of it.

Your cabin was empty all the time anyway, no pesky siblings or unclaimed campers peering over the bunks and invading your personal space, because this is what this was between the both of you---personal and intimate. No one's business but your own.

In Cabin 3, you were his alone. And as much as he is Camp Half-Blood’s all-star camper, he thinks the gods owe him this much. He’s allowed to be selfish when it comes to you.

Luke could relish in the sound of your moans echoing off the marble walls, waves of pleasure extracted from you as he thrusts into your pussy, soaked and pulling him in deep. He marks you where only he can see, handprints on your hips, hickeys between your tits and thighs, and he licks your cheek like a fucking dog, just because he can.

His alone.

His cock pistons harder as he holds onto the plush of your tummy, hands grappling onto every expanse of skin he could touch—his, his, his, from the hair he's pulling on your head to the tips of your curled toes. The harder you shake underneath him, the wider he grins, reducing a daughter of the Big Three to nothing but a fucked out puddle of tears. 

Luke encourages you to be louder—deep down, he likes the idea of desecrating you in a place of honor. The Big Three were too pretentious to be parents, forbidden children given temples instead of homes to sleep in. It’s not his fault this place has too many platforms to christen. He supposes you both should try your father’s altar next.

Your eyes glaze over before you cum, and each time it reminds him of sparkling seafoam kissing the coast of the beach back home. It's his cue to throw your legs over his shoulders, diving into your mouth like you'd breathe oxygen into his lungs as he loses control and moans until your heart, like the rest of you feels full of him. He swirls your pretty pearl between his fingers, coaxing your orgasm out of you as naturally as he calls your name. 

Under the tears and drool, Luke agrees you’re your father’s daughter, soft and sopping wet, drenched in his domain. Anchoring himself between your hips, you let out a scream of Luke's name and he kisses you delicately as you both release—everything from your collarbones to your breasts to the skin behind your knee, he kisses all of it. 

His.

Luke could argue that the cum dripping out of your womb is his too, despite how eagerly he gives it to you each time. You didn’t even have to beg him this time.

It's what he loves about Cabin 3—it's his as much as it's yours, no clothes necessary. Until Mr. D comes barging in drenched to nine hells and floodwaters rising behind him with a personal threat from your father.

[ma1dita]

BABEEE happy birthday!! (i'm so terribly late i'm so sorry) congrats on 23💖

🐥 so i'm having thoughts right now about luke x reader and physical affection. like maybe one of them being touch starved and always craving the other person's touch and the other person noticing it and doing it more? maybe from platonic (i will go down with best friends to lovers) to romantic, i'm just on this brainrot tonight

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x reader

a/n: back from the klerb but here with a classic 4am post 🥂 but the hangxiety wont let me rest until this is out! ill edit this in the morning... or not 😗

wc: 1.1k

—

It’s hard to miss what you’ve never had.

Luke Castellan was never a touchy guy. Sure, he’ll hold a new camper’s hand during welcome tours (especially the little ones who can barely keep up with his long legs; if they’re lucky they get a piggy back ride), and he won’t shy away from a clap on the back when his strategies for capture the flag bring his team to victory (they always do, mind you), and when he feels like it, he’ll even shove Annabeth playfully to show her he adores her (but she packs a punch now that she’s older).

It never really goes past that, and he’s never had to think too hard about it—physical touch.

He’s the one who takes care of others—a part of his nature like it is for Hermes’ cabin to take in unclaimed demigods. But something changed in the months that he’s gotten closer to you. At first, he’d bite his tongue at the way you’re so open to patting his cheek when he does something funny (which he doesn’t try to make a show of, but now…), how you choose to sit so close to him during bonfires that your knees touch (the Apollo kids could be singing about the heavens falling down on them for all he cares but he zeroes in on every word that leaves your lips), and the way you’d lock your fingers with him for a pinky promise after every little thing ‘to make sure it’s real’ (Luke didn’t understand the merit of a pinky promise over whether you could have his dessert for the next week if you took over arts and crafts with the kiddie campers for him; truthfully he’d give it to you anyway). It was unusual for him to have someone comfort him, to show care without a true reason. But he didn’t realize how much more it bothered him now that you wouldn’t even look him in the eye.

Silena and some of the other Aphrodite children had asked you the very defining question of, “Do you like Luke Castellan?” and having never thought of it that way, or being able to put your feelings for him in words instead of fingers in his belt loops or in the muss of his curls—that shit was terrifying!

You spent all Saturday afternoon at the docks with them belly down under the glare of the sun’s rays as they explained to you what the five love languages are. By the end of it, sunburn wasn’t the only reason you felt hot.

“Your love language is physical touch,” one of Silena’s older half-siblings—Connelly, says like he’s explaining that the sky is blue, “And Luke’s not that type of guy! Think he’s more acts of service…”

“Ooh, or words of affirmation….” another one of them muses, but the sound of your heartbeat tunes it all out. Well shit, have you been sending him the wrong signals? Or are there even any signals you want to send him? 

Nevertheless, in the matters of love or even the tiniest whisper of it—maybe there’s no one else you can trust with this stuff besides Cabin 10.

Wrong.

Absolutely wrong. Whatever the hell you’ve been convinced or whatever’s changed since last weekend—Luke just knows he hates it, and he’s angry. He’s angry at how you gasp in surprise every time you brush shoulders during archery practice when you used to let him fix your form, he’s angry at how you’ll squeeze campers’ shoulders to tell them they’re doing a good job carrying the strawberry crates—and all he gets is a mumbled ‘Thanks, Castellan’ when he stacks them up and takes your load.

Luke’s so terribly angry that Travis told him he’s been walking around like a big strawberry, face red and irritated—but not at you. 

He realizes he’s also angry at the fact that he can’t protect you from the onslaught of a rain cloud—or maybe it was the fact that you’re so okay with the rain touching your skin and seeping through your orange shirt like he wishes you’d let him. He’s angry at the way the wind blows your hair into your face and your fingers brush the strands away like he wishes he can. Most of all, Luke Castellan is angry that he didn’t know how good a simple touch could be until he lost it—before he even really got to appreciate yours.

You’re sitting on the opposite end of the row in the amphitheater laughing with your friends and the furrow in his thick brow is a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. Luke doesn’t dare to remember what it’s like before you to be honest—he’d rather give up Elysium instead of having you ignore him like this. He calls your name, a tinge of both anger and desperation until you look over at him, eyelashes kissing your cheeks. The hold you have on him transcends the physical touch of your fingers but he wants, no—needs you next to him.

“C’mere! Why are you so far away?”

Luke hopes it doesn’t sound pathetic, but a crooked grin splits across his face as soon as you make your way over, sitting down and crossing your legs away from him. It’s still too far, even if he can feel your breath on his shoulder.

“Did I do something to make you angry? I…” The words escape his mouth in a jumble—quick wit from his father escaping him, though he knows not to rely on that asshole, god or not. You mutter words that almost escape him too, and he leans in, chasing your hands and putting them in his own until they’re gentle and soft in his lap.

“No, no…. I just… don’t want to push your boundaries. I know you don’t like it when I’m too touchy,” and he thinks his heart clenches a little like how you’re squeezing his hands. Luke shouldn’t feel instant gratification from a subconscious action. He wants to know you mean it with him—that’s what he can’t put into words.

“I….like it when you do.”

You notice the way his fingers tangle tighter with yours, pinkys interlocking with yours. When he lets go, Luke wraps his arm around your shoulders until you’re able to laugh in the crook of his neck. He chooses to place a kiss on the corner of your mouth when your head sways to face him at the silly tune about centaurs and then you realize that Luke loves the way you love him. You wonder if he accidentally missed meeting your lips, but then the noise in your head quiets down when he pulls you closer, lips locking tenderly, intentionally—as they were always meant to.

You both hear a giggle that sounds a lot like tinkling bells belonging to children of Aphrodite. 

For once they were wrong about love. 

Luke’s tongue parts through your lips and meets your own like they’re in a long awaited embrace, dancing and devouring you from the inside out but this, you— are what he can rely on. This, your touch, and how he chooses to let it consume him, never letting go.

[ma1dita]

its 10pm again.... 😈😈

rivals with benefits Luke who makes everything a competition. even in bed. 😼

IM ALSO SO SORRY FOR FLOODING UR INBOX

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: liv we're boxing because i literally could not rest until i got this right,,,, smut. public sex. wrap before you tap. creampie. all the nasty things. fuck man...

wc: 968

“That’s a point for me,” Luke says with a menacing grin. The both of you are soaked to the bone after paddling across Canoe Lake to see who could make it to the other end the fastest, and as you gasp for air while holding onto the wood post of the pier, you can’t help but somehow be convinced that he cheated.

“You’re built like a frog with those long legs of yours, how the fuck was I supposed to win?”

Daybreak spreads slowly across Camp Half-Blood, sunlight kissing where the sky meets the water and Luke thinks he wants to kiss you. Knows it, actually—deep down to his bones that the line between hatred and love must be lust.

He swims closer to you like a predator creeping toward his prey, wet curls stuck to his forehead as he admires how hard you’re breathing. You’re right there, and since you like to make a competition of everything from capture the flag strategies to how many campers you both can get to screech at nightly sing-a-longs, he thinks he has an offer you won’t be able to resist. Luke’s hands glide under your shirt as the both of you tread water, still fighting for dominance even when it comes to who takes up the most space to stay afloat. You lick your lips, fingers tugging at his camp necklace as you look at him curiously and raise an eyebrow.

“I’ve got an idea…”

“I’ll start my prayers,” you smirk, before seeing the hot burning want in his gaze. You can feel it in his fingers as they brush the underside of your breasts, nipples stiff in the frigid water. Shaking your head, a nervous giggle leaves you as your arms circle his neck, bodies separated by your thin, sopping nightshirt. If he touches the rest of you, he’ll find other parts that are wet too, warm enough to brave the chill of the morning breeze that settles upon your shoulders.

“The nymphs might see…” you whisper, even though the both of you know not a single soul is awake right now but time is running out like sand in an hourglass.

“You backing down?”

The kiss you press into his open mouth is a clear enough answer—tongues sliding and spearing against each other, hot and angry and bruising. It’s a fair shot, not knowing who’s going to come out on top.

—

“Oh, gods, please!”

Your hands and knees are scraping in the rocks and sand of the shoreline underneath the pier as Luke pistons into you at an alarming rate, each thrust a blow to your senses. He watches your head bob up towards the sky almost in reverent prayer and he’s grinning, continually sinking into your warmth while the rest of him shudders from the cold. Luke’s cock works inside your slick hole instead of against it, and he laughs at the irony of you finally letting him have his way. Your fingernails dig into the coarse beach, grains of sand making their way through every crevice as he fills your pulsing one with glee.

“Fucking knew you’d behave…” he grunts, one hand pulling at the thin cloth around your waist and the other holds onto your stomach so he can feel himself bludgeon you from the inside. “Can’t fight back when you’re getting your brains fucked out, hmm?” 

He watches your pretty tits swing from the stretched out opening of your soggy shirt as you choke out a sob of pleasure.

“Yes…f-fuck Luke,” you whine, reaching back to ease your hand against his abdomen but he pulls it behind your back to use as a better hold on you. Luke puts two of his fingers in your mouth and they prod at the skin of your cheek, spit dripping around the digits.

Despite the intrusion, you’re groaning loud enough over the icy smacks against your skin that for a moment he thinks it might actually wake the forest nymphs, but then he’s distracted by your pussy pushing and pulling him as his hips clap against your ass, leaving them raw for days to come. Light waves crash against the shore with your movements, splashing against your knees and you’re giggling at him with a dazed grin as you push your hips back harder against his thrusts, overpowering his control over you. 

He swallows thickly, groaning through the building sensation in his stomach as you rock back onto his cock faster and with the purpose of taking him down and winning. The both of you work in tandem as you writhe against each other in a battle to reach the end, unsure of if you’re with him or against him but gods, it feels so fucking good being under him.

“M’so close…Don’t fucking stop,” you shudder, and Luke shuts his eyes hard and takes a deep breath. Even if all 12 Olympians came down right now to smite him he wouldn’t be able to pull out. 

So he doesn’t. 

He couldn’t even if he tried—he cums so hard, his front meeting your back as you fall into the sand with a muffled yelp and he’s pumping thick rods of his release into your pussy. You shiver under him slightly until you realize your belly is warm from his efforts.

“That’s gotta be like 5 or 10 points,” Luke pants, nipping at your shoulder before he sits up. You’re laying there, ass up and motionless so he slaps a cheek before you start laughing.

“For me. At least you came,” you drone, having been on the brink of an orgasm.

He couldn’t argue with that. So he flips you onto your back and eats you out (sand and slick and all) until he’s ready again and by the time the morning bell rings, you’ve both lost track of who’s won your so-called competition.

[ma1dita]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVEEEE <3

🐥 luke castellan x reader in a long distance relationship & he calls her after he’s had a few drinks bc he misses her (fluff or smut, whatever u want)

MWUAH

MDNI

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

a/n: loser!luke? more like whipped!luke, very whiny.... i believe in my heart he's an ass man but that's me being self-indulgent anyways smut but he just masturbates because he's a needy fuck

wc: 914

frances made me do it blame her i'm putting my phone away in fear

At first it was a good idea.

Picking colleges an hour away from each other seemed like the right thing to do, a very mature adult thing even—especially after spending a good four years of being attached to each other at Camp Half Blood. Personal growth, you both reasoned, and college was a great way to branch out and be independent. You didn’t need to be with each other 24/7, and seeing each other on weekends wasn’t all that bad. Luke couldn’t give less of a shit now though—he’s tipsy after downing a few Heinekens and all he can think about are very R-rated adult things he did with you last weekend when he went to visit. 

Some things never change, and he reckons he’d settle for anything you give him, whether it be a picture of your ass or the sound of your voice over the phone. His hands fumble with his belt buckle as he sprawls across the couch in his apartment. The sound of the phone ringing adds to his anticipation until he hears a click and your voice filters through like music to his ears.

“Miss me, baby?”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” he sighs, noticing his cock stand at attention at the few words that have left your mouth. He’s convinced you’re a witch of some sort—that or he’s been pavloved to feel hot at even the idea of you. Cheeks flushing, he can’t help but stick his hand in his boxers and stroke himself as you tell him about the paper you’re writing, steady tap-taps of your keyboard in the background as he strokes himself slowly. Your voice is hushed to not wake up your roommate, but well, his dick is fully awake at the sound of your murmurs. Only you could make the Ides of March sound sexy, and you quickly notice Luke’s not paying attention when you hear a low groan through the phone.

“You’re not even listening to me, babe,” you giggle, “my boy feeling needy?”

“I’m a man,” he whines, your laughter trickling through from your end and tickling every one of his senses as he spits into his hand and gets down to business just wishing you were here to help him. He even tries to tease his balls like how you would, but thinking too hard about it makes him aggravated.

“You’re crazy, Lu…” you whisper, “can feel how desperate you are from all the way over here.”

“Crazy for you. Whatcha wearing, hot stuff?” 

He smiles when you tell him you’re in those leggings he likes and Luke closes his eyes tightly as he fists his cock. Through the stars that dance in his vision he thinks he can smell you–all sweat and sweetness just how he likes. His head lolls onto his shoulder in desperation as his hand moves up and down adding pressure as he imagines your hole fluttering around him and taking him so well, covering him in your slick instead of his own pathetic spit. Luke’s tongue sticks out the side of his mouth as he concentrates. 

Gods you’re pretty when you ride him—the curve of your waist when you bounce in his lap and the crescent-shaped marks he leaves when he grabs onto your hips, forcing you down harder so that all you can both hear is the slapping of skin. Luke moans, a broken, almost shameful sound until he remembers he’s alone in the apartment tonight. 

You’re still tapping away at your keyboard unfazed by your boyfriend’s arousal.

“Poor baby, you close? What’s on your mind?”

“Mmmph…How your back arches when you ride me…Like the way you let me pull your hair,” he grits, his hand moving faster as precum drips over the precipice of his cock, swollen and angry and he’s almost there. The veins in his forearm look like they’re about to burst and he’s dizzy with want, his heart beating faster with his movements.

“Yeah? You know I like it when you need me. Wish I could be there and do that thing you like.” 

He can hear the grin in your voice as he shakes his head, breathing harder and groaning. He can see it so clearly in his head—feel the swivel of your hips as your pussy clenches down on every ridge of his cock, and all he can do right now is rub his thumb over the sensitive area as he gasps for air. 

“Got you baby, just let go for me…”

Luke hisses, spurts of hot, milky cum hitting the chiseled muscles of his abdomen, before he takes a deep breath. He hears you shut your laptop and the sound of you shuffling in your room.

“Didn’t even make it to Facetime this time around. Sorry baby, missed you bad,” he chuckles, taking another sip of now warm beer.

“It’s been four days, Luke,” you tease, “but I was hoping you’d return the favor.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme see your pretty face.”

He presses the button to Facetime, but you don’t answer, and the sound of a car starting catches his attention.

“Babe?”

“Unlike you, I’d rather have the real thing. See you in an hour,” you laugh, pulling out of your driveway.

“It’s Thursday!”

“And it’s my turn to drive up anyway, so you better fuck me so hard I’ll have a reason to call in sick. I’m driving as fast as I can, Lu!”

And what type of rational adult would he be to deny that?

[ma1dita]

My dearest sweetest moony

I, a daughter of Hypnos, just want to hold Luke close and let him sleep the best sleep he has ever had in his life, don't let Kronos talk to him or get close to my boy

1, a daughter of Hypnos, just want to help the campers sleep, help all of those kids get their desired rest

Please let this daughter of Hypnos help her children (the campers) and her husband (Luke)

🐥

(i wrote this request and another one but I didn’t put the 🐥 on them, should I send them to you again or not? Sorry about that darling, love ya, and again I’m really sorry for the inconvenience)

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x hypnos!reader

wc: 756

—

Honestly, Luke was starting to feel bad.

Every free moment he gets to spend with you, he’s been falling asleep. He fell asleep during your lunch picnic last week, sprawled out on the red and white checkered blanket—cheek against your lap as you read a book, on your shoulder at the bonfire last night even with Percy and Grover trying to screech out the lyrics to ‘Unwritten’, and even now as you brush through his curls as you read all of cabin 11 a bedtime story.

Luke knows that dating a daughter of Hypnos has some advantages for sure—you get to stay in the bunk next to his since you don’t have your own cabin, your dad blesses him with nice dreams for taking care of you, and everyone quiets down easier for the night as you project images of sheep for them to fall asleep to. But as he rubs his eyes to the sound of your calming voice, he reckons he’d punch the shit out of a sheep if another misty image of one decides to trot near the air of his bunk. You’re nestled against his arm, looking ethereal with moonlight shining against your cheekbones as you watch his eyelashes flutter slowly from the weight of his eyelids.

“You need to stop doing that, my dream girl.”

“Hmm?” you whisper, voice breathy like cool air. Yawning, you press your cheek against his bicep with a smile.

“Stop putting me to sleep. Wanna spend time with you,” he mumbles, trying to not wake the other campers.

“M’not doing anything, Lu. Besides, you’re cute when you’re asleep,” you chuckle, and his arms wrap around you tighter as his hands dip into his pajama pants you stole from his dresser.

“Are you saying I’m not cute now?” he pouts, reaching to tickle the skin that peeks out from under your shirt and you giggle. The sound of it is loud enough to echo across the cabin, but something extra must have been in your voice tonight because not a single camper stirs.

In a room full of people, the two of you share a moment that’s just for the both of you, watching each other quietly with soft loving smiles. Moving closer to his face, your lips press kisses into the lines that crease his forehead, the scar running down his cheek, the tip of his nose, and finally the plump of his pouting lips. He pulls you in deeper, smiling softly against your kiss that’s ever so gentle until he’s drifting off…

You don’t take offense to it though. Sleep is your gift bestowed to you by your godrent, and to share that with your love makes it the best gift of all.

—

Luke jolts up the next morning after his nose dips into his bowl of cereal. The nymphs and younger campers all chatter and giggle around you two as he grumbles, shoving another mouthful of now soggy Frosted Flakes into his mouth. You smile, stroking the hair at the nape of his neck, taking a bite of your waffle.

“You okay, baby?”

He huffs, kissing the back of your hand before you stand up to go and grab napkins. Annabeth rolls her eyes from across the table, which makes Luke toss a chunk of banana at her.

“What?”

“You’re too dramatic for your own good, Luke,” she sighs, stirring her iced coffee with a straw. She looks at him exasperatedly when he looks more confused by her statement, even if it’s the truth.

“I just feel like a bad boyfriend. Always falling asleep on her. Never do that with anyone else, and sometimes I think she does it on purpose…” he says, leaning against his palm.

“It’s the oxytocin,” Annabeth says, and Luke looks at her blankly, “Your brain releases oxytocin around people you love, and as a result you feel safe and at ease—which is why you keep falling asleep around her. So stop blaming your girlfriend!” She shakes her head like the old soul she is, getting up to clear her tray and leave Luke to his nonsense. You return to the table with a handful of napkins and a grin that instantly brightens his mood.

Rubbing at his eyes, he can see you more clearly and to your surprise, Luke pulls you by the chin for a kiss as he says thank you.

“What’s that for? Can’t be because of the napkins,” you giggle, and a dopey smile crosses his face.

“Because I love you, my dream girl. That’s all.”

[ma1dita]

im begging on my knees for you to see my vision of riding Luke in the driver’s seat of a car after a stressful and dangerous quest 😩😭 THE TENSION!? THE ROUGHNESS??

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

mdni

luke castellan x reader

a/n: it's 7am... i... don't know either. smut. unprotected sex. semi public. slight exhibitionism

wc: 835

riding luke in the driver's seat of a car he stole while accompanying you on your first official quest.... having a car was a quicker way to get the job done he said, and chris also reasoned the old lady they carjacked won't know what she's missing. with two sons of hermes against you, even if you disagreed with them they still wouldn't hear a single complaint from your lips once you could sit in the ac instead of trod through the summer midwestern heat.

a week later you're sitting in the parking lot of a motel in rural illinois. one second you're grinning over the success of your quest and waiting for chris to come back with the room key and the next second luke's pulling you over the console into a bruising kiss that makes his cracked lips bleed. days ago you remember watching luke pick the locks of this car just as easy as he flicks your belt open just now, your knees digging into the hot metal of the seatbelt mechanism next to his thighs as you rise up from your haunches and he can see the sweat glistening on your tummy, back arching over the steering wheel. your shirt flies over his shoulders and lands somewhere in the backseat. shorts following as quick as he can pull them off you, slick rubbing against the meat of your thighs so much that when you sit back down on his lap he can feel it through his jeans---the heat isn't just coming from the red glow of the motel sign almost vibrating with the words 'open 24/7'.

he presses your back across the wheel, one hand snaking up to your throat and the other dragging your panties to the side for him to peek and prod at in the dim light. with his seat leaned all the way back, he watches you like you're something out of the porn magazine chris jokingly nicked from the gas station earlier, shiny with sweat and something he can smell, desire reeking from every pore of your tired body. demigod aside, you're a fucking fever dream, a nasty thought that keeps luke hard at night until he can jack off when everyone finally goes to sleep in cabin 11. the only thing he'll be thanking the gods for is the fact that his brother left you two long enough for a quick fuck.

"luke, we're still dirty," you mumble, but he knows you couldn't care less, both of you covered in blood and grime and unable to know where he ends and you begin once his fly goes down and you sink onto him like a perfect mold. this is filthier---the feeling of your pussy clenching down on him tight with every thrust of your hips downwards like he'd ever want to leave this small slice of heaven.

"f-fuck, just like that...you're so tight f'me..."

you grab onto his curls to make him look at you in the dim lighting, dipping your fingers into his mouth as you rock your hips hard and he sucks on them like they're covered in nectar---sharp tongue and plump lips dancing around your digits despite the dirt under your nails but he's entranced by the way your eyes roll back once he starts fighting against your rhythm. it's not a competition but with every noise that spills from your lips as he pistons into your sopping warmth, he thinks he might be winning.

"so dirty baby... you're right... feels too good to stop though huh?" he grins at the sound of sticky skin slapping once he bucks his hips up faster. through the steamy windshield, he can see curtains rustling in the windows near where he parked the car. maybe it's the way the whole vehicle is shaking with the force of your hips, the headlights he accidentally turned back on when taking your clothes off, or maybe its the way you're screaming his name like you want someone to hear.

"oh, luke, i can't! slow down, people are gonna...see!"

you're holding onto his shoulders and peeking at his face through teary lashes and this motherfucker has his tongue between his lips smiling---mortals be damned. they can watch if they want, regardless he fucks into you like he means it. until you fall apart on his cock and there are red handprints on your hips from where he pulls you off of him, the both of you pulling at his cock with his hands over yours until hot streaks of cum paint your tummy to your tits.

there's a knock at the window. rolling the window down at eye level, luke makes eye contact with chris who looks at his brother with a knowing grin. you've thrown your head onto his shoulder in embarassment, sandwiching the multiple stains and fluids between your shaking bodies.

"shower's open. you guys were... occupied so i went ahead. you both need it," chris smirks, before sliding luke the extra key card.

and he's right. the both of you need a shower. good thing the next step after getting dirty is scrubbing each other clean, right?

[ma1dita]

its 2am and im delirious im so sorry but

jealous! (and maybe clingy!)luke x apollo!reader when he sees the same couple of campers constantly coming to you for medical attention over small scratches or feigned illnesses just to get your attention..and reader is just so kind to everyone they’d never refuse to treat anybody no matter how minor the injury, but it drives luke a little mad teehee 🤭

🐥 also happy (late) birthday jo!!

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x gn!apollo!reader

a/n: i will never get tired of bf!luke.

wc: 947

“Be with you in a second, sweet boy!”

Your hands were fiddling with gauze as you brush past Luke sitting on the only empty bed left in the infirmary. And you weren’t even talking to him! Your words were directed to his half-sibling and with all the others waiting for you, it was obvious that you weren’t leaving your shift anytime soon despite his plans for your date night.

“Doc, what about me? I feel sick too,” he mutters into your neck, big hands pulling at your waist and playing with the smock tied around your frame.

“What’s the matter, my love?” You coo, brushing back his mop of hair and looking into his honey sweet eyes. He grins and it’s a bit boyish and quite sinister, all Luke with a definite trick up his sleeve. 

“My heart hurts…. because I pulled a few strings to have dinner with you at the lake and we’re not there right now,” he sighs, hot breath tickling your earlobe, “And I need you to fix me up too.” Cheeky asshole.

You bite your lip and slowly pull yourself away from his embrace, not without kissing the corner of his mouth before the fluttery feeling is weighed down by the reminder of your responsibilities at the sound of a scream from across the infirmary.

The room was filled with campers of all ages vying for your attention and waiting for your gentle hands to tend to everything from a scraped knee to a rising fever (though if you ask Luke, he’s so sure he saw Bradley from cabin 9 standing over the forge in the armory trying to break a sweat earlier).

It was sickening. Someone ought to tell these campers to get in line. Connor Stoll almost skips–excuse me, limps, (now that you’re watching him again) towards Luke with a shit-eating grin at his moody disposition at the fact that he has to fight for your attention.

“Beat it, loser.”

“Baby! Don’t be mean or I’ll ask you to leave. Get up, Connie needs to get his knee wrapped,” you say with a furrow in your brow. Your eyes dart around the room wondering where the rest of your siblings have gone to help you heal these campers, but unlike you, they’ve already clocked out for the day. It’s a wonder how many kids at Camp Half-Blood get brutalized, maimed, or both on the daily, but it’s all in a day’s work of being a child of Apollo.

“Yeah, move it bighead!”

Luke grumbles, rising to his feet and shoving Connor a bit harder than what’s brotherly, so much so that the preteen falls face first into the cot. (Luke thought it was dumb that the kid was acting like a baby since the idiot scraped his knee jumping off the roof of the dining pavilion because Travis and Chris dared him to.)

“OWWW!” he groans, and before you can react, Bradley’s asking for another cold towel and little Lila from cabin 4 starts crying about her sun poisoning from being out in the strawberry field—your shaking hands and wide eyes let Luke know you’re at your limit so he ushers you behind a curtain for examinations.

“Honestly, you’re overworked babe. Take a break,” he says sternly, but softens as you look up at him with a pout and a whole lot of love. He smooths your hair down and hands you a glass of water.

“Just need to see the rest of the patients for the day and send them on their way. I don’t want anyone to be hurt,” you mumble through sips, leaning against the wall and shutting your eyes. To Luke, it sounded like the quicker you get through this the more time he spends with you— and so he moves so quickly that you barely process what he’s doing until you hear various complaints from campers (who are annoyed that their new nurse isn’t as pretty as you and dons a fierce glare and curls that hang over his forehead like a dark cloud).

Nurse Luke models after what he’s seen you do here countless times, but in a way that’s very much his own. He gives out ambrosia and nectar, cleans up booboos where needed, tells Bradley to fuck off and take a cold shower, tapes Connor’s mouth shut, and awkwardly jokes to a kid from cabin 6 that he probably shouldn’t be the one doing stitches or he’ll get a scar that looks like the one running down his cheek. They agree to wait until later, holding bloody gauze to their chin.

By the time you’ve calmed yourself down, you pull back the curtain to see an eerily quiet infirmary (and you’re not sure if they’ve been threatened into silence) but everyone is bandaged, fed and watered—to the best of Luke’s ability. It brings up a sunny smile on your face that reminds him of the first rays of morning light which is a view he never gets tired of, and you finally throw in the towel when Leo and little Will come in for the evening shift. 

A resounding sigh is heard from the infirmary’s patients as you leave with your boyfriend, to which you don’t think much of as you look at Luke like he’s the answer to all of your problems. He kisses you in the doorway like its a cure, whispering sweet nothings and promises of a nice dinner at the lake even if it’s pitch black outside now.

It also serves to those damn kids as a reminder that he’s the one who gets to fuss over you and though he doesn’t like starting fights, boy, does he love ending them, in his own little way.

[ma1dita]

🐥 okay but how about a lil something based off of lyrics from 18 by Anarbor

So if you wanna piss off your parents, date me to scare them

Show them you're all grown up

If long hair and tattoos are what attract you

Baby then you're in luck

And I know it's just a phase

You're not in love with me

You wanna piss off your parents, baby

Piss off your parents

That's alright with me

dionysus!reader just turned 18 and is proving to her dad that she's all grown up but D won't listen cuz she's the only girl child he has so she dates the golden boy of camp, Luke Castellan to piss off her dad which he doesn't approve bcs well, he's his father's son

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: yall know i love a dionysus!reader. in a world where rick didn't write children's books, luke castellan would've had tattoos and definitely fucked. anyways suggestive content ahead!!

wc: 692

You were only going to date Luke Castellan to prove a point.

You’re 18 now, and it’s about time that daddy dearest takes you seriously. Being Dionysus’ only daughter meant that you were essentially kept under lock and key, and it was so unfair in the grand scheme of things—there’s inhibitions inside you that beg to be set free… It’s not your fault. Might as well hit him where it hurts—so you went for the bane of Mr. D’s godly existence, also known as Luke Castellan.

It’s not your fault that your dad’s temper drove you to the doorstep of Cabin 11, twirling your hair between your fingers as you waited to see their cabin counselor. He sauntered over to the door with a half-grin on his face, slinging his arm to lean against the doorframe as he hovers over you. It’s not often that Camp Half-Blood’s princess comes asking for a favor. You always get what you want, even without asking, so it was a surprise to hear you give him the proposition of being in a fake relationship.

Truthfully, there was nothing in it for him. He’s a nice guy, and Luke just loves to piss your dad off. To outsiders, there was nothing that made more sense than Mr. D’s little girl dating the camp hero–Luke’s hand gripping your waist like it’s a vice and you pressing kisses onto his jaw and neck unlike the innocent girl everyone thought you were. Holding hands in public, sucking face at the bonfire, playing house with the campers—it was all part of a show that everyone adored, all except for Mr. D.

Your dad saw straight through it—hating that you had to pick a son of Hermes, hating the reality of his daughter entangling herself with the older boy who’s innate nature is to trick and deceive and penetrate through the many defenses your father set to protect you. It’s his fault for raising you to make everyone eat out of the palm of your hand. You always get what you want, and even daddy’s little princess isn’t safe from the wiles of that scar-faced sucker. It was a losing battle, even for the god of insanity—poor guy pulling at his graying hair at the conduct report Chiron put on his desk a few weeks later. 

Getting caught in the stables with Luke’s hand up your skirt and your soft hands grazing the tattoos along his torso wasn’t necessarily part of the plan. The two of you were moving hay bales for the pegasi and it was hard work (that you made Luke do as you sat pretty on an overturned bucket). He was glistening with sweat, lifting his shirt to wipe his mouth—revealing the cascading tattoos along his ribcage and infiltrating your mind with other things he could put his mouth to if he wanted. 

Who are we kidding—you want Luke Castellan, and you’ll be damned if you don’t have him right now.

All it took was scrunching up the hem of your denim skirt over your crossed legs and smiling at him in the sunlight and he was on you—twisting and writhing in hay as you kissed like your lives depended on it, even without an audience. The grins on both your faces signaled that neither of you cared, him grabbing the plush of your ass and you raking your nails up the back of his neck. Luke presses kisses into your collarbone, whispering things your dad would smite him for, but to you, it was like he was putting in the password to your untapped thirst. Ecstasy was about to unfurl with how his fingers played with the band of your underwear, tiny noises and nods letting him know he was doing everything right. It’s not your fault, really—you just want to prove a point!

But then the both of you were caught red-handed by a satyr, lips kiss-swollen and giggling at how he unraveled you so quickly. A conduct report was filed, but it didn’t stop Luke from finding new ways to unlock your deepest desires.

Besides, picking at locks is part of Luke’s expertise, among other things.

[ma1dita]

do we have any sick!trouble and luke taking care of everything for her??(including her hehe🤭) if not then i’d like to think she would probably try to push herself through the day making sure camp doesn’t get set on fire bc older sister core! + dionysus probably dgaf 🤷🏻‍♀️ and maybe only luke noticing that she’s breaking out in a cold sweat and her movements a little more sluggish than usual but shes stubborn af so she refuses to rest

🐥

also ur works are crushing me jo they’re soo good😭💗

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x dionysus!reader

a/n: no trouble tags fuck it we ball! no edits either lmfao fluff :) can be a standalone just know reader is camp mom and Luke calls her trouble/slight cabin 12 mentions but not important (partners in crime series if you wanna check it out)

wc: 860

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen you be quiet.

Your voice is synonymous with the harmony of Camp Half-Blood in all of its forms: early morning announcements over the loudspeaker that serve as a wake-up call for campers to be ready for cabin inspections, hollow outcries to keep certain deviants in line (the Stolls and your brothers are a deadly force to be reckoned with), comforting words like kisses for scraped knees for the little ones, down to the gentle blanket of your singing at lights out. Luke also just knows by now that you love to have the last word—gods forbid someone else beat you at something you’re good at. Words always come easy when it comes to you (abilities of sons of Hermes aside) he finds out—but he can’t think of what can convince you to go back to bed today, especially with a temperature of 100.7 F.

He’s been circling you like a hawk this whole morning, not chastising (because clogged sinuses and all you’d probably fight him to your last breath), but rather helping out where he can. He swiftly double-checks counselor assignments once your puffy eyes leave the page, steers you away from walking straight into the fires of the forge instead of the exit at the armory, and waves off any bystanders who dare to get caught in the crosshairs of your bullheadedness.

In times like these, Luke’s almost grateful to be his father’s son (still a hard no, but you get the point). Doing these tasks undetected and mostly through a sleight of hand is better than worrying you even if he’s already at his wit's end; you’re quick in your own right too, body and brain separated today yet working on autopilot through a foggy sick-riddled mind. He hates leaving you like this even for a moment despite your protests of being able to handle yourself, but the two of you are spread thin today with all the work to do.

Luke finds you later after his workshop with your head against the cool stone of the climbing wall. You sniff into your sleeve, a wet sound stifled by the worn-down orange uniform you all wear, though yours looks as exhausted as you are, eyes closed and motionless even with lava slowly trickling from the top.

“Trouble? Are you okay babe? Grover fell off the wall already, you should… restart the mechanism,” he mutters, a big hand clasping at the nape of your neck like someone grabbing a kitten by its scruff.

“He’ll be fine, he’s a big boy,” you mumble with your face still attached to the rocks. “I’ve seen him climb over the Ares table for the last donut at lunchtime, molten lava and boulders should be a piece of cake.”

“At least cake is less painful and more delicious,” the satyr groans, hairs singed down to his hooves. Luke sighs, helping Grover back onto his feet for a well-deserved break.

“Babe…If you don’t move, sooner or later the lava’s gonna smother you.”

He shakes your arm since the controls are wedged between your body and the wall but it’s as if your body is bolted to the floor. A dissonant noise crawls out of your throat, “Dunno, kinda sounds nice. Maybe it’ll clear my sinuses.”

“Maybe it’s time to admit you’re sick.”

Even if he can’t see your face he knows there’s a scowl carved across it, “M’not sick. Just some allergies. I don’t get sick, Lu. Being sick is for the weak!” Lava continues to slide down the wall like molasses, inching you closer to a fate of fire— and your boyfriend watches you try to welcome it with weary arms.

“If you’re not sick, then I’m the best singer at Camp Half-Blood,” Luke drones as he crosses his arms. He can hear Percy laugh from the sidelines at that, silenced quickly by a glare.

“Now that would really clear her sinuses—even better if he dresses up for Theatrics again,” the son of Poseidon sniggers until a stray boulder comes barrelling towards where he and Grover are sitting. Everything’s suddenly less funny.

“It was one time, Jackson, and I wasn’t…” Luke sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Trouble was just mending a costume.”

“It’s okay Luke, not everyone can pull off a corset.”

“Grover, another word out of you man and I’ll make sure your legs are permanently hairless,” Luke grits, finally tired of the chit-chat and more focused on getting you to rest. In one quick movement, he sweeps you off your feet and over his shoulder while his other hand slams on the button to reset the gears of the climbing wall. A delayed reaction falters from your throat, something of a yelp and an exhale.

“Luke! Put me down!”

But he’s already off in the direction of Cabin 12 to get you settled under the covers for at least the rest of the day until you’re up and kicking again. Your protests are scratchy but loud as he takes you away from the two kids and it's as if everything is right in the world again.

“Remind me not to get a girlfriend that stubborn one day,” Percy mumbles, bumping shoulders with his best friend.

[ma1dita]

I need a pt 2 to the Luke and long distance!gf PLEASEEEEE

mdni

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

pt 1 here

a/n: man... getting out of my writing rut so here's this filth. sexting. kinda public. luke cums in his pants. what a loser

wc: 780

*bzzz*

Luke’s phone buzzes for the third time in a row in his Financial Marketing lecture today. The notification shakes his phone against the wood of the table to the point that it’s bugging the hell out of Chris who’s locked into whatever the professor’s saying—but as soon as Luke sees your name flash across the slightly cracked screen of his iPhone, he drops his pen in favor of you. His brother rolls his eyes, slumping further into his seat head lolling against his arm. There’s a smile that immediately settles upon Luke’s cheeks at the thought of you.

“baby 🤭 you busy?”

“why are you not answering you don’t even like this class anyway”

“fine ig i’ll ask someone else for their opinion 🤷🏻‍♀️” 

He chuckles lowly as he types out a reply, “opinion on what babe 👀” and Chris nudges his arm with a nod to ask if everything’s good. The professor drones on in the background about the stock market and for once, Luke is glad that Hermes gave him the ability to skate through his Econ degree (the only think he’ll be grateful to his absent father for), because it gives him more time to focus on more important things, like the slew of images of you trying on bikinis that infiltrate his phone.

[5 Image attachments]

“oops sorry! guess i sent them to the wrong person”

He gulps almost comically, shifting in his seat as he saves them for later. Shifty eyes and quick fingers can only do so much in a crowded lecture hall. But you see that his read receipts are on, and frankly the lack of a response is irritating when you’re pulling your best poses in the comfort of your living room. Boys never get how much effort it takes to be sexy.

“damn. guess i’ll go find a new boyfriend who can appreciate all of this”

Luke sighs, half stifled by is need to see you bare and his spit going down the wrong pipe that he clears his throat loudly, trying to ignore his jeans tightening by the second. Licking his lips, he clicks on the presentation slides, trying to catch up to where the professor is after your very welcome distractions. 

[Image attachment]

He presses the ‘next’ button just as another iMessage notification pops up on his screen, trigger finger clicking open an image of your tits pressed between your fingers, nipples taut against the fabric and lips between your teeth—all shiny soft skin almost bursting through the flimsy top that’s loosening and almost vivid through the still image. If there’s more, he thinks he’s seeing stars.

Luke slams his laptop shut and it echoes.

He takes a deep breath trying to remember what year it is.

“You good bro?”

Chris mumbles with a furrowed brow, watching sweat glisten against Luke’s flushed cheeks.

“Not feeling well. Think I’m gonna head out. Send me notes later?”

It’s almost an inside joke between the two of them, but Luke laughs a little too hard trying to play it off. He shoves his laptop into his backpack, before slowly weaving through the row and hoping no one noticed his girlfriend’s tits on the blown up screen of his Macbook. But then again, something’s obviously off as he walks stiffly towards the exit, feet swift with no predetermined destination. Luke contemplates the probability of someone interrupting him in the hall bathroom if he goes there to rub one out. His dick is hard and weepy, frustration brimming at the seams of his resolve when he walks out of the lecture hall. Readjusting himself into his waistband and groaning at the pressure, Luke wonders if he can walk home fast enough.

[Video attachment]

He stops in his tracks as he opens your message, the sound of your moans and slick movements of your fingers buried under the damp bottoms of your bikini almost too loud in his Airpods. His dark brown eyes trace the movements of your swiveling hips on his screen and he leans against the wall to groan lowly, a pathetic noise clawing up his throat, until his mouth dries at the sight of you parting the fabric aside just in time for him to watch you cum hard, soaking the rest of your hand and the leather of the couch beneath your ass. Luke doesn’t realize his body’s unprompted decision to join your release until he feels a sticky, uncomfortable warmth pool against the bottom of his shirt, soiled beyond belief.

His head of curls bangs against the wall behind him as he moans.

*bzzz*

A lopsided grin forms on his face when his phone buzzes again in his hand.

[ma1dita]

🐥hey babe, thoughts on sirius x reader during hogwarts years? sirius is known for being a huge playboy and reader's a gryffindor and good friends with all the gryffindor girls n marauders. think (best) friends to lovers? he's going out with all these girls all the time searching for a connection and physical affection, but doesn't realize that he has feelings for her until he sees her with another guy (asked to hogsmeade, hanging out at a party, slug club, etc). love ya <33

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

sirius black x reader

a/n: for my lovely nini!! i hope you like it LOL sirius was always hard for me to write

wc: 1.5k

—

Sirius Black has everything he’s ever wanted in life.

It’s a bold statement to claim at 17, but after leaving his hellhole of a house, getting good ol’ Uncle Alphard’s inheritance of gold with enough to swim in at Gringotts if he so wishes, and having the best of mates he also has the privilege of calling his family— some may ask what’s next for him, and that’s what he’s trying to figure out too.

Everything will be easy from now on, he thinks— smoothing down his hair and spritzing some cologne while he gets ready to find another girl to get under so that his weekend will have some merit.

“Looking good, Pads,” James grins from his bed as he tosses a quaffle back and forth between him and Peter. The impish boy almost gets nailed in the face, huffing, “Who’s it this time? The girl from Ravenclaw? What’s her name again—Venetia? Violet?”

“Something like that…”

Sirius straightens out his shirt collar and flicks off a speck of imaginary lint from his shoulder—there’s physically nothing wrong with him, but something is still missing.

The door opens with a bang and you brush past him like a hurricane, the boys cheering at your arrival.

“Pretty girl, give us a twirl!” James hollers, and Remus gets up from his bed to spin you around as you giggle with your dress twirling in the wind.

“M’gonna be late because of you lot!” you grin, grabbing James’ bottle of Sleakeasy’s off his dresser and sidling up next to your best friend who’s silent as he stares at you through the mirror with amusement in his eyes.

“What?” you mumble, cheeks flushing as you lather the potion between your fingers to smooth it into your hair, “Can’t let you be the only pretty one around here, Pads.” He’s pulling on the fabric of your dress teasingly, inspecting you from head to toe, “Mhm, and who exactly are you going on a date with, lovie?”

“None of your business! Don’t want any of you boys meddling,” you say exasperatedly, elbowing him when he laughs, and Peter yells out in protest from the floor behind you. You squeeze Sirius’ shoulder, looking at the both of you in the mirror and noticing that his silvery eyes are still glued to you, cool as steel.

“Do I look bad? Borrowed it from Mary, but it doesn’t really fit me as well as it fits her, no?”

He notices the low cut of your dress and the way it frames your body just as well as he can draw it from memory—from the curve of your collarbones to the plush of your hip it certainly doesn’t leave much to his imagination, he’s just never seen you like this before. Sirius is blatantly ogling you now, and Remus throws a pillow at his head sending every perfectly combed piece of hair in different directions. He doesn’t even move to fix it, his breath growing quicker the more he takes you in.

“Lucky bloke. You’d look pretty even if you wore a sackcloth though,” he mumbles, eyes unseeing when you reach up to smooth his strands with a gentle smile. Sirius moves closer so you can reach, lips grazing against the powder blush you applied on your cheek— though if he got any closer he might’ve felt the heat reverberating from your skin. His finger plays with the tie at your bosom, almost in hesitation, or was it contemplation?

When does Sirius ever hesitate to do anything?

“This dress is just….hmmm…”

“What? Making me nervous… Is it too much?” You turn away to ask the other boys, who watch the two of you dance around each other like an old Muggle film Remus’ mum would send them to watch (Hope Lupin wants to teach these boys a thing or two about how to woo women in a respectful, romantic manner, mind you).

“A bit,” Sirius swallows, pulling at his shirt collar like it’s suddenly hard to breathe. Behind you, Peter grips at his hair almost comically while Remus throws his face into a book and sighs. James is watching through his fingers, eyes darting between the two of you two in anticipation. Groaning, you jab at his torso, taking out the rest of the air in his lungs (though he tries not to choke when he pulls you in and feels the smooth skin of your thighs as your dress rides up in the struggle).

“Shut up, you tosser! And I better not see any of you in Hogsmeade later trying to ruin my date—I actually have high hopes for this one…” you giggle, tossing your head against your best friends’ shoulder as you look at the varying faces of shock that surround you.

“Who said we were going to meddle?”

“Us?”

“We’re good boys, doll, we’d never!”

Sirius’ voice rings clearer over the rest of the Marauders as he whispers in your ear, “My girl’s looking forward to a date? Who would’ve thought….”

You spin in his arms and correct him, one arm wrapped around his neck and the other playing with a button on his shirt, “Your best girl…I’m allowed to have fun too, Pads!”

“That you are.”

He presses a kiss to your temple, inhaling the perfume you spritz on for special occasions and feeling like he’s lost you already even before you walk out the door. You send him off on dates all the time with an encouraging smile on your face. So why is it that after you leave the boys watch him flop into his bed and stare at the ceiling?

Sirius could’ve been there for hours for all he knows— ignoring the boys when they tell him they’re going to badger your date at Hosgmeade, unmoving when his date (who’s name turned out to be Vina) banged on his door for skipping out on her, he laid there, arms crossed and brooding. It’s like nothing made sense anymore.

You come tiptoeing into his room with your heels in hand a little before dinner, pulling back the curtains of his poster bed whispering, “Pads? You okay? What happened to your date?”

Sirius rolls over, looking at your wide eyes glinting in the candlelight, “What happened to yours?” he counters.

“It was okay. The boys sent a Bat-Bogey Hex to my date and snot landed in my butterbeer. He thought it was weird when I laughed.”

“M’sorry, lovie,” he sighs, grasping your hand over his duvet and playing with the rings on your fingers.

“S’okay! Don’t wanna be with someone without a sense of humor. Grown man that can’t take a prank. How awful is that?” you grin, before slapping his thigh, “Move over, I’m coming in.” There should be nothing special about the way you easily find your place against his body, molding against his form in both of your wrinkled dress clothes but Sirius can’t help nuzzling against the crown of your head, pressing a kiss to your scalp like it’s second nature.

“Why didn’t you go on your date? Heard Vina almost set the common room on fire.”

He doesn’t have an answer to that, nor the way he questions why his heart is beating faster when you draw stars along his spine.

“D’you at least have a good time today? Looking so pretty and all,” he whispers, pulling your chin up so you can look at each other eye to eye.

“Rem said you weren’t feeling well, so I had one foot out the door the entire time. Besides he was boring. Much rather spend time with you here,” you say like it’s nothing of the sort. Shiny lips press a pink kiss onto his nose. Your lipgloss smells like strawberries, leaving a mark on his aristocratic features.

“Doing nothing?”

“Mhm. Already having more fun, aren’t you?” you breathe out a laugh into his neck, unknowing of the way he looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. He comes to the realization then that there’s no other place he’d rather be without you by his side. Nothing’s missing, or wrong with him—he has all he needs as long as you’re pressed against him like this, fingers in your hair and legs tangled under the bedspread.

“I didn’t want to go on my date because I wanted to be with you today,” he whispers into the air. You don’t freeze or jolt back like he expects you to, instead pursing your lips against his jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Is that okay?” he mutters, closing his eyes with the feeling that he’s said something awful, shoulders tensing like how they would when his mother would turn the corner.

“Why wouldn’t it be okay? Siri…” you sigh, grabbing his face to look at you and when he opens his eyes, you suddenly know.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Sirius says shakily, putting his hands over yours in case you’re an apparition or want to leave. There’s a space in his heart that’s in the shape of you, and you smile at him like he wasn’t in on the joke, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“S’okay. You have me.”

And he nods, knowing that’s all he needs.

[ma1dita]

omggg hope you had a great birthday!! do u mind writing a remus x reader who realize there’s smth more than friends between them, thank youuu

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

remus lupin x reader

a/n: gn!reader truly idk how this escaped me. me writing for my long lost husband in the year of our lord 2024?? this was so fun it felt like reuniting with an ex anyways fluff incoming

wc: don't... look at me... 1.3k

“So?”

“So what, Prongs?” Remus huffs, flipping through a textbook. Merlin knows why he even tries to study in the common room with the boys when all they do is badger him about nonsense.

“So are you and your little friend, well…more than friends? You two are attached at the hip, so where’d the little one run off to?” James teases, whacking his best mate with a throw pillow, “Get tired of you moaning and groaning about prefect duties?”

Well, that’s…you’re definitely not nonsense.

Remus blinks, brushing his hair away from his face and glaring at James before elbowing him straight in the gut. Tosser he is, acting like he knows anything about you or relationships in general when he’s been pining after Lily for years now.

You two are just friends.

Sirius lets out a loud laugh from his place at Remus’ feet. He’s leaning against the arm of the sofa, looking up at the sandy-haired boy with a cock-eyed grin, “If they were more than friends, Moony’s moaning and groaning would be appreciated and reciprocated, don’t you think?”

Peter snickers from the loveseat across the table. It doesn’t help with Remus’ mood, so he buries his head deeper into the boring History of Magic text, grumbling, “Don’t be crass. Just friends, is all. Don’t look too hard into it or you’ll melt what’s left of your brains.”

The three instigators look at each other, before looking back at their best friend. Just friends, he says. Sure, Remus’s the nicest guy around—a prefect even; the one that people count on to be the most morally sound out of all of them, the guy that people borrow notes from, politely laughs at jokes and makes people feel included in conversations. Sure, friends—they can believe that! Everyone wants to be Moony’s friend. But it’s the way they’ve seen him treat you that stands out.

Remus usually lags behind them now, breaking apart their formation in the halls (and yes, Sirius likes to be at the front of the diamond), pushing Peter up so he can wait for you after class. Also, anyone that could distract him from taking notes in Arithmancy is surely a force to be reckoned with (and a threat to Peter’s grades). He’s even gone as far as sidling up next to you during Potions and breaking their age-old rotation of picking partners since their first year (which left James with a botched Aging Potion, and Lily laughing at him as he limped out of class with graying hair and a hunchback).

So things were different nowadays, but one thing is for sure: Remus Lupin’s favorite game is being in denial.

“Maybe your friend knows about your furry little problem, Moons. Surely you really don’t think you’re gonna get any studying done with us?” James chuckles, before pushing his glasses up to clearly see the blush blossoming on Remus’s cheeks. Though it might also be anger, he couldn’t really tell—they’ve never seen him like this, ever; so blatantly obvious with how he feels about you even though he’d never admit it. It was quite refreshing to remember that Remus is still a normal teenage boy.

“You’re right, Prongs,” he huffs.

“I am?”

“I don’t know why I even bothered to try and study with you lot if all of you are too focused on me instead of studying!” Remus is shoving his books into his knapsack as the boys continue to rib at him to get him to stay. This essay isn’t going to write itself.

“Just playing, Moons!”

“Yeah mate, if you need an actual study date we know that’s not us, just hang around!”

Remus sighs as he’s looking at his friends' shit-eating grins as they go around him showing each other the map and pointing at something.

“What now?”

There’s a knock at the portrait, and the Fat Lady’s shrill voice could be heard from where they were sitting. Peter jumps up, sticking his face over the enchanted parchment as he giggles a bit like a schoolgirl, “It’s for you. Your friend’s outside.” They all cheer and laugh at Remus shaking his head, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder walking quickly away from them.

When he sees you chatting with the Fat Lady, it’s almost as if he’s in a stupor, studying every inch of your face until your eyes finally meet his and you grin and wave at him.

Just friends, he reminds himself.

“Hey Rem! Was gonna ask if you wanted to go to the library together?”

Your voice is a treat in itself, he thinks—the lilt and manner of it so sweet and rich it almost reminds him of his favorite chocolate.

Good thing he has a sweet tooth.

Walking down the hallway together your hand bumps into his several times in passing, fingers ghosting against each other as if they were dancing, too close and then too far. Friends can hold hands right? Remus’s heart flutters as he thinks of the possibility like solving an Arithmancy problem. He supposes the boys and him don’t necessarily hold hands, but he imagines holding yours would be way nicer.

Is he sweating?

His palms are sweaty, forget it, and you’re just friends! You’re telling him about your day like you both haven’t seen each other in years, but he even sat by you at lunch earlier, much to the rest of the Marauders’ surprise. Though Remus supposes you could even make Divination sound interesting—maybe even make him look in the stupid tea leaves to see if you’re in his future, furry little problem and all. He realizes he’s been staring a second too long, bumping into you lightly as you stop in front of the library.

“Haha, you okay? You’re quiet today, Rem. Something on your mind?”

A lot about you, apparently, thanks to his meddling friends.

Remus scratches the nape of his neck as he grimaces, cheeks reddening again and instead of a response, he opens the door for you and puts his finger to his mouth as if to say “Shhhh….” before Madam Pince starts a fit at either of you. That, or him actually having to say how he feels.

How he feels… Well…shit.

You make a beeline for an open table near the corner, tugging at his wrist like it’s not making his heart beat out of his chest and Remus tries to compose himself, but then you look at him with your pretty fluttering eyelashes and he knows he’s utterly fucked. Pulling out your chair for you, you squeeze his arm in thanks and scooch your chair closer to his.

“Rem?”

“Hmm?” he responds, a strangled noise crawling up his throat as he coughs slightly, his arm landing on the back of your chair before he panics then realizes he’d look like an arse for pulling away.

Not that he wants to.

“How did you know?”

His heart genuinely stops. There’s no way you’ve caught on that quickly—especially not with him just realizing how he feels about you, his friend that he wants to be more and there is nothing casual about what he wants to d—

“How’d you know I was at the common room? You walked out just as I was about to walk in, I thought it was kinda funny,” you giggle, brushing your hair behind your ear and he takes a deep breath.

You’re just friends. But he definitely wants to be more.

“The boys told me it was you,” Remus says, chewing on his lip, “Apparently they had a feeling.”

And now, so does he.

What’s worse is that Remus hates admitting when they’re right (which is rare enough in itself, he’ll never hear the end of it from their inflated egos).

What’s worst of all is that for the first time in his Hogwarts career, Remus Lupin ends up submitting an essay late.

[ma1dita]

Luke x Thanatos!daughter reader? like maybe she was wings and Luke finally sees them. (headcanons, fluff, or smut. your choice.)

🐥🐥🐥🐥🐥

luke castellan x thanatos!reader

i think this is such a cool concept! luke is not the type of guy to shy away from darkness so let’s dive into it: some about you, some about the relationship yall would have

about you

you’re not scared of death at all, since it would mean being with your father—you’re very headstrong and daring

i think people would think the worst of demigods associated with death, but in reality there’s a softer side to you, one that holds a dying squirrel until it passes safely, or sings an injured camper to sleep on the battlefield so that your dad can carry them to the afterlife; i feel like you’d be able to take away their pain as well

you’d probably be able to have the same transportation powers your dad has, flickering into a shadow to travel or something cool like that

maybe on an actual scarier level, you’d have control over someone’s lifeforce through shadows like in peter pan

you’re a bit of a lurker, but not in a creepy sense—you have a calming presence to you that helps people feel at ease no matter the situation

you can sense when someone’s about to die like it’s a bad taste in your mouth or goosebumps on your skin

if you were trying to hide your wings to try not to stand out (because teens are teens and its easier to try to fit in) i wonder if wings would feel like growing pains, or like they’re trying to escape from under your skin; i would hope they’re more comfortable to have out though! gorgeous and huge like that of an angel

you and luke:

yall are literally ride or dies. literally where one goes the other follows because death is not the end for the two of you

i think he’d think your wings are sick (and sexy but hey…) you flying around with him trying to follow you in his shoes he got from his dad could create some crazy situations if you know what i mean

you two would race across the sky at camp and meet at the top of half-blood hill <3

you can tame luke’s anger well since you’re a true chaotic neutral, by just holding his hand his rage is contained

he always encourages you to be your truest self and spread your wings (literally) who cares if someone tries to pick on you for how big they are or how scary you look they should be more scared of him because he’ll start a fight for it (luke is your scary dog privilege)

luke has very fidgety hands as a son of hermes so i think you’d always catch him stroking the feathers of your wings absentmindedly

everything is attainable when you two are together, you make him understand the balance of life and death as your father did to you—this may or may not sway his decision to become a human vessel, but you’d be with him through it all

[ma1dita]

🐥

okay I dont wanna seem annoying but it's 10:53pm and the ideas r coming in but I already sent an ask in so do whichever u want first 😭

bf!Luke when he's sick headcanons? (can be in an au where they're js normal ppl or can be them at camp, your choice !! 🫶🏼

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a/n: LIVVVVV i truly believe that if this man was sick with an SO that would take care of him he would be the biggest bitch alive just because he can

at camp:

it starts with a sniffle, luke trying to be oh so brave about it until he can’t ignore the sneezes that sound like they could shake the earth and all of cabin 11 (if you think those kids barely got sleep in general, you should see them get mad at luke’s dumbass going ACHOO for the 47th time that night)

so they rightfully complain to you to go get your man and drag his ass to the infirmary, because the cabin counselor he is loves taking care of others but throws a fit when they tell him to get checked out by the apollo kids talking bout “i don’t get sick, i’m too cool to get sick! heroes don’t get—”

yeah so he has the flu

one stern look from you sends him packing towards the infirmary, dragging his feet in the dirt and complaining the whole way

he puts up a fight the whole time, swatting the healer’s hands away to the point they want to tie him to the bed, and luke doesn’t like not winning

“luke just listen to the fucking healer and you’ll be out of here faster.” “bedrest! they want me to be strapped down here forever, babe, you know i don’t like not moving for that long! though if you were the one tying me down…” *sniffles innocently*

a cold towel smacks him in the face

you end up nursing his nasty germ-riddled ass back to health in a corner of the infirmary that you have to make your own for the next week and a half. 

but if you ask him, he felt fine after a few days—he just likes being taken care of by you

im bored lets do modern hcs too:

in this universe he’s still a little shit but at least you two live together in a cute little city apartment

luke’s laid out on the couch wrapped up in some of your coziest throw blankets as he scrolls through old reruns of friends, laughing at chandler’s humor because i imagine it to be a lot like his own (of course, if rick let him be funny instead of traumatized and an antagonist)

you’re making chicken noodle soup in the kitchen and the smell wafts through the air of your apartment even if he’s so congested his voice sounds funny when he talks

i think you guys would have two cats, brother and sister—absolute menaces, pouncing on him in turns trying to resuscitate their dad from his lifeless form on the couch to throw their little mouse toy around

that or a really big senior dog who sleeps at his feet and turns its head every time luke makes a funny noise

oh he’s still annoying in this one trust—you gave him a little silver dinner bell to ring if he needs you since you’re working from home in the other room but the problem is this man always needs you

ring. “babe!’ ring. “baby!” ring ring. “love of my life, absolute goddess among—*wheeze* humans, can you come here a second?”

“what’s up, honey?” “oh i just needed to see your pretty face. feeling better already!” 

you toss a pillow at his head and get back to your meeting.

when it’s over though, you join him in his little blanket fortress and he lays on your chest, sniffling and smiling as he pulls you into a kiss and thanking you for existing

you get sick after but it’s worth it. sort of like payback

[ma1dita]

🐥 a lil something for jason grace? just yk him meeting hephaestus!reader for the first time at camp half blood and she's this bubbly girl who befriends everyone cuz that's just how she is and like she offers everyone solutions to material problems like aphrodite kids with vanity mirrors that light up on their own, apollo kids with medical kits that look small outside but has TONS of storage, demeter kids with self watering pots, etc

reader gives him a welcome gift (leo and piper too), a compact watch sword thingy like percy's and jason's like new to this bcs all his life he's been treated like a prince in waiting, a leader most of the time and he hasn't had anyone do something for him cuz its usually him doing things

ooh and a lil bit of leo valdez teasing him bcs of him blushing when she's around cuz reader is his sister basically, same dad and all

Thank you and happy bday again!

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jason grace x hephaestus!reader

a/n: this was so cute but pls lmk if i got his character right...i had to reference my irl pjo bestie for this i love this boy

wc: 766

Jason Grace thinks you talk too much.

And too fast. It’s one of the first things he noticed about Camp Half-Blood weirdly enough, besides the nagging feeling that he didn’t belong there. There wasn’t so much as a day where he wouldn’t see you whizzing past campers offering to tinker items to make their lives easier, and he could barely keep up—which says a lot for a boy raised to be a soldier.

It was like you set everything alight, and the flames you left in your midst could not be tamed; everyone was enamored by you, and admittedly, so was he. The son of Jupiter was sure his brain had short-circuited along with everything else going on but all of his worries were dashed when you presented him with a wristwatch shield.

Jason blinks slowly.

“Are you listening? Do you like it? I can change the finish on it or scrap it completely if you don’t think it’s cool, or maybe it's too big? Let me see your wrist—Jace?”

You wave your hand in his face before grabbing his arm, encircling his wrist with the metal links to make sure your creation fits him comfortably.

Too torn between the predicament of being raised by fucking wolves and training for a war that no one knows the start date of, Jason Grace has not had too much time to acquaint himself with the matters of the heart. So in his eyes, this poor sweetheart thought your welcome gift was the equivalent of a marriage proposal, or something like that…

Your half-sibling Leo thought this was hilarious of course, his teasing grin stoking the fire in the pit of Jason’s stomach when he asked to see it. The blond boy was gentle with your gift, shaking his head at the notion that it meant anything, that you were just kind to everyone, and nothing about it whatsoever makes him special.

Okay buddy…

So of course when you came to confront him about Leo’s taunting that had reached all of the inhabitants of cabin 9 (and the armory, and the counselors, and even Chiron and Mr. D—the biggest gossips of Camp Half-Blood), Jason Grace, a boy who usually has his shit together, was reduced to the phenomenon of being an embarrassed teenager with a crush.

You were standing a little too close for his liking and even if he towered over you, the blaze in your eyes could incite fear in the gods.

“Just because I'm nice and do things for you doesn’t mean that I like you, Jason Grace,” you say adamantly as you cross your arms over your chest. He notices the smudge of soot on your cheekbone, and thinks it looks quite pretty against your complexion.

“Of course.”

“I gave you the wristwatch shield as a welcome gift,” you say next, to which he nods since it’s a fact.

“Of course, I didn’t mea—”

“I mean you’re always protecting others, so I thought someone should protect you for a change,” you mutter, watching him scratch the nape of his neck as your smile spreads like gasoline touched by a lit match. He can’t help but embrace the burn (His serious demeanor is broken by the smile on his face, so big that it almost hurts).

“But you are right, I do like you. Suppose we’ll have to do something about that.”

Thinking hard about the confession that left your mouth, you look like you’re working through a methodical problem to solve— finding the missing piece to a puzzle instead of making the son of Jupiter's face heat up like a thousand suns. He reckons there’s an ambush inside of him as something starts to work harder than usual, not his brain overridden by battle tactics and that of survival— but his heart, beating fast like a well oiled machine (and more importantly like a normal teenage boy). 

Jason reaches out to rub the soot away from your cheek, but when you pull him in by the collar of his shirt to kiss him, he finds himself to be stained by you all the same.

[ma1dita]

Hii!! Congrats on 23!!! I love your writing!! Idk if you write for Jason Grace, but if you do could you do something with a daughter or Dionysus reader where it’s just her trying to loose him up a little bit? Or maybe them at a party?? Thank you so muchh!

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jason grace x dionysus!reader

a/n: underage drinking lol but that comes with a dionysus!reader ,,, ty for the request my love!

wc: 683

“So you’ve like, never been to a party?”

You’re smacking on a piece of gum as the both of you watch the party come alive in your cabin. Cabin 12 was always the place to be on weekends with it just being you and Pollux, and everyone knows that no one can throw a party like a Dionysus kid. Though with the way Jason’s leaning against the corner of the wall you both take up with a beer in hand, it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Ever since his arrival at Camp Half-Blood, you’ve come to notice that there is possibly no version of him that is ever at ease.

“Never really had the time.”

Well, that just won’t do.

You teach Jason all the things a teenager usually does at a party, from drinking a few cups of spiked punch (which was much more pleasant than the beer), to dragging him onto the dance floor once the drinks set in (he thinks he likes spinning you around until your laughter bubbles over like sparkling champagne), to finally getting him to join a few party games. Jason killed it at cup pong, watched you annihilate other campers at king’s cup, until an Aphrodite kid insisted you end off the night with 7 minutes in heaven. A chorus of both groans and cheers were heard around the room, and Jason looks at you confused. His glasses glint under the fairy lights and you giggle at his lost puppy look.

7 minutes in his father’s domain didn’t seem like a good game to him, so he leans in to listen to you whisper the mechanics of it all. His cheeks redden, and he’s unsure if he wants to play.

“Come on, it’ll be fun, sparky.”

You gave him the nickname because he always looks like someone’s lit a fire under his butt—too uptight and cordial for your liking.

Sitting around while mismatched couples took their turns in your linen closet wasn’t really Jason Grace’s idea of fun, but he supposes he doesn’t really have a good grasp on that either. He trusts you though, for what it’s worth. A son of Jupiter having full faith in a daughter of Dionysus must be a deadly combination.

When Piper calls out both of your names, he supposes that could be fun. You grab his wrist and he follows you into the dim closet, everyone’s voices muffled through the closed door. 

“Is this okay?” He whispers, even if no one else can hear him but you. Your smile is intoxicating when it’s directed at him, he realizes, and he wonders if he’s finally drunk. 

“Yeah. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Jace,” you say sincerely. At a wave of your fingers, the hesitation and impairment from the punch subsides a little; a light buzz settles in your stomachs. Jason pushes his glasses up and then dares to ask, “So what do people usually do when they’re in here?”

You raise your eyebrows. You didn’t think you’d have to spell it out for him.

“Um, well…they kiss. Or other things…”

“Oh.”

You giggle at his shock, leaning in slowly and waiting for him to make the final move. Jason closes the distance and there are a few things that surprise you about this kiss. It’s intense, lips molding onto yours with the passion he puts into everything he does, wanting to do the job well. Whether it be the waning effects of alcohol or a static shock—it made the both of you hyperaware, lightly panting before his hands pull you in by the waist and you smile into the scar on his lip, grabbing onto his tshirt. You tilt your head to the side and let him consume you once more, a floaty feeling in your chest until you realize—the both of you are actually flying. 

A muffled groan leaves him when his head hits the lightbulb, sparks flying out as you land in his arms. 

Lips locking through the laughter, Jason finally understands why you would think this is fun.