Odysseus and the rest of his crew comes back SAFE AND NOT DEAD AND LESS TRAUMATIZED. And then Ody and Polites find out that they're children are getting married and they're so cute n hyped
I'm not an anon no more lolz 🩷💛🎀
“Surprise Marriage!”
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Telemachus Headcanons with Polites Daughter!Reader
⇢ ˗ˏˋ You and Telemachus have grown close together over the years that your fathers have been missing. At first, you were friends, but time and time again, both of you were there for each other. And so that resulted in your relationship blooming. You were lovers with the Prince, and soon, you would become his princess!
⇢ ˗ˏˋ A few years pass by of being lovers with him, and you couldn’t be happier. He was sweet and loving, making sure to tend to your needs. He showers you with affection as well. You do the same thing for him, and he just adores it. He first fell in love with how you stood up for him against the suitors. That's when he knew you were the one.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ When it came down to the actual proposal, he was a nervous wreck. He spent months preparing for this moment, hoping that you would say yes and become his wife. No matter how many times he has rehearsed his speech, it still didn’t help calm down his nerves. He took you out on a date first to somewhere that was significant to both of you. And when the date was coming to a close, he got down on one knee and proposed.
“Y/N…you’ve been by my side since the day we met, you fill my heart with joy. I want to be with you till death do us part. I will forever be by your side just as much as you have been for me. So…Y/N, will you marry me?”
The moment he finished uttering those words, you immediately threw yourself at him, and he fell backwards. He let out a grunt and held you while you were on top of him, showering his face with kisses. Telemachus was beet red.
“Is that a yes…?”
“Of course it’s a yes! I’d love to be married to you. You’ll be my husband and I’ll be your wife!”
“Husband…gods…”
He was going to be your husband, and that made him feel like he was going to burst into pieces. You were going to be his wife. And he was going to be married to you. He buried his head in your shoulder and then took a deep breath as he cupped your face and kissed you.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Days later, the suitors started to attack and tried to take hold of the castle. It seemed like it was also the same time that his father came home. Telemachus immediately heard the commotion and went out to scope the area, leaving you alone in his room. You waited nervously. You had promised him to stay here and stay safe, but how could you with a massacre happening? So you went out and pulled a sword with you just in case.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ You had found him along with his father. He held you close and analyzed the man in front of him. Soon he recognized him to be Odysseus. They had a little meeting, you stood there, and finally, he introduced you to him as his future wife. Odysseus stood there, realizing all the time he’s lost, but he also realized that his son is very much a man now.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ But the thing was, your father was part of Odysseus’ crew, Polites. So you asked his father if your father was still alive, if he was here to see you. Or if he was long gone into the afterlife.
“My king…is my father still with you? Polites is my father.”
“Polites is your father? He did mention having a daughter…but yes, he’s alive and well, he’s by the docks, mending the ships—”
You end up running out of the palace and towards the docks, leaving Telemachus and his father behind. Once you had reached the docks, there he was, your father. You cried and cheered as you ran up to him. At first, he was confused, but then he recognized you as his daughter. Warm hugs were shared, and many emotions swirled inside you.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ You told him of your life without him, and then you had suddenly dropped a bomb on him as you told him you were getting married to Telemachus. His friend’s son. Polites nearly passed out when he heard it, but he calmed down; he was clearly happy for you. To think that his daughter was getting married and he was able to be there for it? It was more than he could ask for.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Both fathers were so happy and excited for the two of you. Telemachus was a bit embarrassed about his father's excitement, but you were overjoyed about it. You kissed his cheek in front of your father’s, and he turned bright red as he whispered to you.
“Y/N…! Not in front of them!”
You giggled and then took him back into your shared bedroom, while both fathers gushed about their children getting married, they wanted to start planning things right away! The day of the wedding was filled with tears of happiness and love. You and Telemachus were finally husband and wife.
⇢ ˗ˏˋ Advertisement: Hey you! Yeah you, the person who read this whole thing, do you like Telemachus? Well this blog is THE place for Telemachus fanfiction. Check my bio if I have requests open and my rules.
A/N: Once again I got carried away with my headcanons 😔 But I hope you like this!! I really liked this ask and tried to make this as fast as possible!!
So for starters I will call this guy L, so me and L have been friends for months and he’s a good guy to be around he’s funny he’s nice. He’s just a good person to be around so I ended up developing feelings for him within these few months and last month of school, but I didn’t tell him in risk of ruining our friendship and we’re pretty close and the thing is he acts like my man we always sit by each other and he’ll put my foot in his lap and keep it there and he’ll let me play his hair and he’ll lean back against my chest while I do it and today we were sitting in class and he was on the floor and laid his head in my lap and while I was playing with his hair and I told a mutual friend that I have a crush on him and I asked her to ask him for me if he feels the same way cause I’m too nervous for that….and she told me that he did like me but felt we were going nowhere because we were both to scared to say anything and that he is talking to someone else already so I have our friend tell L that I I like him and I leave so I’m not awkward and he texts me(down below) so now I have him silenced till I figure out what to do with myself…like do I wait for him do I move on? I’m a bit lost people have told us that we looked cute together or that we’re perfect for each other and now I don’t know how to feel about myself I feel like I made our whole friendship awkward L has his Face ID on my phone and i have more pics of him on my phone that he took or that we took together so if anyone has any advice on what steps I can take please tell me.
i need.. leo valdez porn links.. like u did w spencer….
what if I tongue kissed you on the mouth????? /p
(disclaimer: nsft twt links below the cut, log in to view, DNI if you're under 18 obviously)
Spoiling subby!Leo with a reach around and some cuddling <3
Eepy seepy morning sex w leo is the BEST sex w leo
How he eats you out (or, munch!Leo vol. 1)
Leo noises <3
Subby!Leo + handjob pt 2
Leo on top (he's insatiable!)
More of him being a munch (aka munch!Leo vol. 2)
He KNOWS WHAT TO DO WITH HIS HANDSSSSSS
Don't you love sitting on his lap? <3
Type of videos he sends you when you're apart (he misses you so bad he's in agony and has to view being away from you as foreplay or he'll never survive)
He knows when you need to get dicked down!!!!!
He's truly a switch. You can touch him as much as you want and he can't get enough of it.
Leo Valdez is an insatiable munch volume 3
If he's not on top of you and kissing all over your face something ain't right
Matching each others freak to a degree that's concerning and hazardous to the general public /j
GIVE THIS MANS BINGBONGS SOME LOVING!!!!!
lmk if y'all want more bc I fear conrad fisher might be up next
യ (p. jackson ) 𓂃 you hate the look of blood on demigods; every drop of the reddish liquid only serves as a bleak reminder of all the grueling work you have to do as a healer. however, an unassuming tuesday makes you realize that sometimes, blood looks oh so good on a certain son of poseidon.
alternatively, where you realize you want percy after he shows up to the infirmary bloodied and gashed.
cws. nsfw / smut under the cut , 18+ only ; minors dni ! fem apollo reader. fingering (f! receiving) . oral (m! receiving) . unprotected piv & he cums inside . . . reader is referred to as “pretty girl”, “my girl”. percy and reader are adults. percy is cocky. implied post-hoo. porn with some plot . lmk if i missed any other warnings !
wc. 4054 words. requested by @myrapottah
sol ‘s note : though this was requested (like MONTHS ago . . . i'm sorry myra babes) , i’d like to dedicate this fic to a special recent achievement of mine: passing nursing school in one of the best schools in my state ! :’) the fic’s quite long, but i had so so so much fun writing her. i hope u all enjoy reading !
tuesdays were always training days.
every tuesday of the week, campers would flock towards the training ground, celestial bronze weapons in hand, picking fights with straw dummies in bronze armor. oftentimes, campers who grew bored of the non-moving, stationary strawmen flocked together and decided to use themselves as their own training dummies. this became a new, innovative method of melee fight teaching, and has carried on to the present day.
this demigod versus demigod training brawls always happen on tuesdays.
it was an unspoken tradition, written in the minds of these orange-clad campers like it was law. tuesdays were always training days. for the rest of camp, it was a day to hone and develop new skills, to have a better chance at defending themselves against monsters that were prevalent outsidecamp half blood’s borders. it was because of this reasoning that the campers got far too carried away with their training.
for the apollo cabin, it’s the worst day of the week.
with the influx of injured campers—all with injuries ranging from pin-sized papercuts to almost amputations—the infirmary was almost always full. more often than not, training days meant that the apollo cabin had to be spread thinner to accommodate the number of people who needed medical attention.
the apollo cabin holds a mild dislike for tuesdays. you do, especially.
you often regretted saying yes. after leaving camp half blood years ago, you thought it’d be a nice few years in the mortal world—pursuing your education and bettering your skills away from the world of deadly prophecies and gods and goddesses. it would have been a nice break, until chiron reached out to you privately, asking for a small favor.
according to him, before you left and for a while after, the tuesdays system was never this bad. apollo could manage it enough; they didn’t need to spread themselves out so thin to treat injured campers.
the system worsened after chiron asked percy jackson to train the campers in swordfighting. this led to a staggering increase in injured demigods.
you thought it was a false cause—post hoc ergo propter hoc, or whatever. but, after you said yes to chiron’s plea to come back to camp and help apollo manage injuries, you saw with your own eyes that chiron wasn't just incorrectly assuming that because one event followed another, the first event caused the second.
you saw how the poor campers were tripping over themselves and nearly getting mauled because of their efforts in swordfighting. and—upon asking a patient with a finger that almost fell off—it wasn’t because of his methods of teaching. no, it was because the kids wanted to be like him so bad, they went to extremes just to get better, to be like their hero, percy jackson.
the apollo cabin held a mild dislike for tuesdays. you? you loathed them.
this tuesday, however, is an exception.
“jackson…” you pause. you have to chastise yourself. healers aren’t supposed to sound this horrified upon seeing their patients, no matter how battered, bloody, or bruised they are. they aren’t supposed to sound horrified at all. you try to mask it with a cough. “what…happened to you?”
threre’s a gash. no, not even that—to call it a gash would be an insult to the mere magnitude of it. it was an ugly, jagged line, the origin at the dead center of his chest. it curls around his pectorals, and you can see it end on a point between his armpit and his bicep. from a blunt weapon, most likely. blood is splattered on his chest like a bad watercolor painting, but thankfully, the wound isn’t gushing out any blood at all.
he’s led to the bed—thank you, you tell his companion—and when he’s sat down, the muscles of his abdomen flex ever so noticeably.
my gods, was his body always this defined?
a traitorous, unserious voice in your head points that fact out, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks.
he straightens at your gaze.
“you should see the other guy,” he tells you, snapping you out of your thoughts.
your eyebrows furrow, your mouth curls into a wince just thinking of all the healing you’ll have to do to this poor other camper. “i hope i don't get to see the other guy at all.”
you glance at the pitcher of lukewarm water used to clean wounds.
percy is the son of poseidon. the pitcher would be an easy way to heal him—you wouldn’t need to spend so much cleaning his large wound and sewing it up. you probably wouldn’t even need to consume the entire pitcher to make the wound disappear.
it’s convenient, the voice in your head says, but it comes at the cost of you not seeing or touching percy’s muscles.
it’s a moral and ethical dilemma.
you shake your head and turn to the cabinet above you. from there, you pull out sterile gloves, cotton balls, antiseptic, a needle and thread, and some nectar. in the end, the traitorous voice prevails.
after you put the gloves on, you tell him, “i’ll start by cleaning your wound.” you douse the cotton ball in antiseptic. “your wound’s quite big, it might sting.”
he purses his lips and nods, as if steeling himself.
you circle the edges of his wound with antiseptic. once clean, you take a nectar-doused cotton ball and dab it gently against the open wound.
his stomach flexes at the contact. his arms brace against the bed frame, and you can almost see the same arms wrapped around you, same bare torso pressed against your bare back—
“did a kid beat you up this much?” you ask to rid yourself of those thoughts. and oh, how you prayed he couldn’t hear the small tremors in your voice.
his head snaps around, and he throws a small glare at you. “i’ll have you know, i wasn’t beaten up by a kid.”
“i don’t know who you’re fooling,” you say. “the nymphs, satyrs, and chiron are the only things in camp older than us.”
percy shuts his mouth after, giving you the perfect opportunity to sew the wound closed.
you trace a line around the wound's perimeter.
“i’ll sew around here,” you say. at the look on percy’s face, you reassure him: “there’ll be nectar in the thread, don’t worry. it won’t hurt.”
after you’d sewn the wound closed, you dab over it with nectar for good measure.
“alright, that’s all you’ll need from me.” you hand him a spare camp shirt that—you assume—is his size. “the wound’s all closed up, and i made sure the thread’s fortified enough that the wound won’t open with strenuous activity. you can continue training; just don’t let any kids cut you up that bad, yeah?”
you turn your back to him. you dispose of the antiseptic and nectar cotton balls you used to clean his wound, wrap the needle in tissue and throw it, shelve the bottle of nectar and antiseptic, then tidy up your area.
when you turn back, percy jackson is still sitting on the infirmary bed.
he didn’t even put the shirt on.
“why aren’t you leaving—?”
“you want me,” he says, blunt as the blade that slashed through his—defined, toned, muscled—chest.
“what?”
shit.
your heart is beating rapidly in your chest, loud enough that you can hear it roaring in your ears.
“i do not,” you state, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to lower your heart rate. it doesn't slow.
“do too,” he replies. “weren't you checking me out a while ago?”
this was new.
“i was assessing you. what’s gotten into you?”
“was it the blood, doc?” he smirks. he didn’t even answer your question. “you're into that?”
you hate how much he sounds like he’s mocking you.
and you hate how much he's right.
“no. i’m not. i treat a lot of bloody demigods. every day of the week. there's no way i get aroused by blood.”
i’m into how the blood looks on you, the traitorous (and truthful) voice in your head says.
then, you huff. “you lost a lot of blood back there,” you say. “you're delirious, jackson. delusional, even.”
“y’sure, doc?” and you can see the shadow of a smile that stretches across his face when he says, “why don't we test that theory out, huh?”
suddenly, your lower back meets the wooden table. in one long stride, percy had crossed the distance between the two of you.
there’s a soft smack as his hands land on the table, just right beside you, caging you in between his arms. he leans in enough that the low timbre of his voice reverberates through your bones and stirs the butterflies lying low.
“you're soaked, pretty girl.”
fuck. of course the son of the water god would know that.
and, from the look on his face, the same son of the water god knew that you’d never be able to deny it.
percy was hot—objectively, truthfully speaking. you knew this. especially now that you’ve seen his fine, god-esque figure accentuated by the sheen of blood. you doubt it was even the blood. it was just him.
you won't deny, too, what you’ve been feeling—the warmth in your entire body and the unmistakable dampness in your panties—the moment he entered the infirmary.
was it so wrong to give in to what you want, just this once?
when you look back up at him, his sea green eyes are boring into your very soul.
“have you made up your mind yet, doc?” he asks.
and fuck it, you have.
you lean in first, smashing your lips against his.
and, to your surprise, percy kisses you back with as much vigor—if not more.
the two of you waste no time in being careful. percy shoves his tongue in your mouth, you run your hands to his hair, tugging at the strands that get caught between your fingers.
you only register hands on you, then the loss of ground, before you’re lifted onto the wooden table.
he leans in, his kisses sloppy, desperate, and downright greedy as he sucks on your bottom lip.
he leaves your lips tingling for more as he kisses down, down, down, right at your carotid. he licks that very point, then hollows his cheeks and sucks.
you let out a sound. it teeters embarrassingly on the edge of a yelp and a drawn-out groan.
immediately, your hand flies to your mouth.
“don't do that, pretty girl,” he says, peeling your hands away from your mouth. he intertwines them, then presses another kiss there, mumbling against the soft skin: “wanna hear everything.”
“but they'll hear us, jackson,” you whisper.
the both of you are silent for a moment, until:
“wanna come over to mine?” he asks. “cabin’s soundproof. no one’s gonna hear a thing.”
the moments to cabin three pass in the blink of an eye.
when you cross the threshold of the seasalt-scented cabin, none of you linger.
with a sudden bout of newfound confidence, you pull him in by the hand, the kiss open-mouthed, wet—leagues away from your initial composure at the infirmary. there’s none now; you think you’ve lost it all.
percy leads you to the bed. he makes himself comfortable, and the hand entwined with yours pulls you onto his lap.
his one hand is everywhere. it cradles your face and deepens the kiss, it squeezes and grips at your waist, and, the next moment, latches on to it like a vice and pulls you impossibly closer to him.
your limbs are wrapped perfectly around him. one hand clings to his shoulders, locking him in place and feeling every oscillating wave of his muscles at every small movement. the other hand stays locked in his.
your pussy’s weeping, downright throbbing at the taste of his tongue in your mouth. you couldn't help but think about how it’d feel inside of you—
ankles lock right behind him, trying to bring yourself even closer and closer to where you needed him most. your drenched panties catch on to the tent at the front of his shorts, and you have to hold back a sob.
you think, in this moment, you’ve finally made up your mind.
“i want you,” you murmur. “so bad.”
percy lets out a small, mirthful chuckle. “can feel you getting wetter over me, doc. ‘s like a damn waterpark.”
before you can retort, percy’s hands grip your hips—not rough, not tight, but as if asking for permission—and only slightly lift. your fingers hook under the garter of your waistband and, with his help, you shimmy out of your shorts.
percy doesn't have to try, and yet, every move of his arm is showing off and flexing his biceps for you to ogle at.
and, as the next piece of fabric comes down, he lets out a guttural groan. both of you watch—percy, transfixed—as a few stringy wads of your slick stick to the front of your panties.
oh, you really were so wet.
percy continues to stare, a small smile stretching across his face and into a smirk.
“don't–don't get cocky about it.” your legs inch closer together in an attempt to block out the pure intensity of his stare, when—
“dont.”
his middle and ring finger swipe a long, languid stripe up your pussy lips, pooling your slick onto his digits.
your mouth drops into a little “oh!” as he starts to sink his middle finger into your pussy. and as if in a daze, he’s letting the second of his long fingers in.
“jackson—you… fuck!” you're trying not to wail, to keep your voice low so other campers can't hear you—but, fuck, do percy’s fingers feel good.
percy’s brows furrow and crease in the middle just as he watches your cunt swallow up his fingers. he moves them slowly, just a small wriggle side to side, before he feels the slight resistance—“fuck,” he whispers against your neck (he’s never felt so parched). “so tight around me, pretty girl,”
you whine when he pulls his fingers out. sheeny slick coats them, a line of it keeping you two connected still.
you miss the feel of percy in you for a few seconds, before he’s pushing his fingers back in, out, in. they were so vicious, so greedy, taking up all the space and swabbing at you. in, then out, then in.
“don't stop, please.”
“why would i?” he murmurs. his eyes aren't on you at all, but down, down, down.
he scissoring your entrance wide open with his roving fingertips to the point where you can feel his fingerprints against your soft insides. you shiver at the way he sinks them in again with a sluurp.
percy leans in a bit more, pressing a kiss to your carotid, then clavicle.
in that same moment, his wrist has found a newfound angle, one that somehow pushes his two fingers deeper in. hitting nearly the back of your pussy, pushing back and forth against your gooey walls.
when you feel it, your eyes widen.
he smiles. “found it.”
he hooks at your most sensitive gummy bundle of nerves. curves his fingers just right.
your loose limbs start shaking at percy’s relentless back and forth with your g-spot– “jackson—think ‘m gonna—”
lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and—
white-hot pleasure between your eyes. tension curling your toes.
“cum f’me, pretty girl,” he rasps out. he squeezes in a third finger inside your tight cunt—
and you're seeing stars.
he’s fucking you through your high, each thump of his fingertips against your g-spot and each glide of his long fingertips easing you down.
again, and again, and again.
right as the high bates, you feel an emptiness when percy’s fingers have pulled out of your weeping hole.
you pull him in by the shoulders, kissing him just to get a taste of his lips and tongue.
“give me more, jackson,” you mumble against his lips.
“what?”
“you know what i mean,” you tell him. your hands snake to his belt loops, pawing at them in delirious desperation. “want more of you.”
percy groans.
his feet land on the ground beside the bed. metal clinks against the floor. clothes ruffle as they're being discarded.
“been wanting this for so long, pretty girl–” he lugs his boxers down, along with his bottoms, “felt like i was dying.”
his cock springs free and slaps against his abdomen. he was big—so mouthwateringly big; flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light—every part of him was so unfairly pretty.
and, well, you just couldn't resist a taste.
beding down in one fluid motion, you press a kiss to his weeping tip, drag your tongue all the way down the vein under his shaft, and his hand immediately flies to your hair.
“shit— hah- you don't have to—”
“shut up, jackson.”
and with that, you’re shoving as much of his throbbing erection down your throat. there’s a slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip.
“shit, oh—yes, yes, yes–.” percy lets out a guttural moan. Fingers thread through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth, his hips stuttering and jerking with pleasure.
it was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his scent filling your senses. beginning to move up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips.
his dick twitches in your mouth and your cunt clenches. you brace yourself, ready for his orgasm, when he stops.
and just pulls his cock out.
there’s a loud, lewd pop! that accompanies it that makes his dick twitch and your pussy ache. you’re about to retort, mouth opening to ask him why— but he beats you to it.
“don’t wanna cum yet,” he tells you. he grabs his cock, tugging it ever so slightly, when he says, “lean back for me, pretty girl.”
and that you don’t argue with.
your legs are spread in front of him, and the look on his sea-green eyes is so carnal, so hungry that you motion to close yourself up. he places your legs above his shoulders, eyes stil trained on your soaked core.
he drags his reddened tip right through your swollen folds, catching maddeningly on your clit, teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. too slow.
you wiggle your hips just so that the tip just slides inside your hole.
he curses above you, and you feel small spurts of precum lining your walls.
with newfound vigor, percy pushes his hips forward, groaning out your name.
you could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in inch by inch.
his cock was long enough that it kissed your cervix, and that the mushroom tip hooked just right against your g-spot. it didn't lack girth, too—it was thick enough that you could feel the veins pressing against your walls.
deliciously painful, borderline addicting, and something you didn’t know you’d been craving until today.
and it’s almost like percy felt the same, cock hot and throbbing agonizingly inside of you, almost like his second heartbeat.
he buries himself to the hilt and stays. he bows his body down until his damp forehead meets yours.
“greedy girl,” he says. “so tight. gripping—hah–gripping me like a damn vice.”
he pulls himself out fully, just ‘til his tip is kissing your sloppy hole. you whine at the loss of contact, only for him to ram his cock all the way back inside your warmth.
skin on skin, skin on skin. he starts fucking into you, the sheer tightness of your pussy sucking him in so greedily, like she never wanted him to part.
“yes, yes—oh—just like that,” you moan out.
“all–all of it‘s ngh—yours, my girl. yours,” percy says, his baritone voice now raspier above the sloppy squelches that immediately start pouring out of your pussy.
slick gushes out of your cunt with every in and out, dripping down his length and pooling around his balls. they sting against your ass with every thrust in.
“percy—fuck,”
and you feel percy freeze. the loss of movement makes you cry out.
“why—?”
“say it again.”
“what? noo, just come on and fuck me—”
he thrusts once, then stills. “c’mon, my girl, please? lemme hear it one more time.”
oh.
“mmfh—ah—okay, okay.” and one more thrust, harder this time. “oh—! percy, percy, percy! fuuck—”
he keeps the pace constant, rough, kissing your cervix with every in and out of his cock.
“that’s so right, baby.” he presses a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the juncture where your neck meets your shoulders. “sounds—hah—sounds nice, right? better than jus’ jackson?”
you lean away from the bed, hand gripping onto percy’s shoulder for support as you grab his face and kiss him.
he continues thrusting his cock in and out of your poor walls, a sheeny white ring of fluid gathering around his base.
you feel him so deep, he’s pushing your eyes to roll allll the way to the back of your head with the crown of his fat tip.
it was intoxicating, inebriating—from the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, fucking into you, his lips kissing ever surface he can reach, his teeth biting and marking what’s his.
“m’ so close, percy,” you sob.
percy’s large hand trails down where your bodies meet to draw frenzied circles on your puffy clit. “cum with me—please, baby.”
“inside,” you gasp out. “want you inside.”
and this orgasm seems to be stronger than last time, lightning hot pleasure zapping through your body faster. sobs escape your mouth. your back arches so much you fear for your spine. your body flinches every time he brushes against your clit.
percy’s high comes right alongside yours, and he’s shooting thick, hot, strings of cum, painting your walls white with a low groan of your name. you feel it dripping out of your cunt and into the sheets under you before it's being fucked back in.
when your highs bate, you flop unceremoniously on percy’s bed.
he lets out a small chuckle, before kissing your forehead. “i’ll be right back, okay?”
you watch as his figure retreats to his closet and comes back with an armful of clothes.
the towel in his hands is warm as he cleans going down, passing your stomach, before finally wiping down your inner thighs. he slips his boxers on you, then a shirt.
when he finishes, he collapses right beside you. he pulls you closer, settling you right over his heart, draping an arm over your back.
for a moment, both of you just stare.
“you were amazing, percy,” you say. “i… i liked it. a lot. i'm glad it was you.”
percy presses a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. “i've liked you for so long. still can't believe i managed to kiss you, let alone…”
you let out a small laugh and snuggle closer.
tuesdays were the worst days of the week, you think.
but maybe, just maybe—you brush a stray lock of percy’s hair behind his ears—tuesdays had a little bit of merit to them.
( . . . )
“told you you wanted me”
you grumble against his chest. “shut up.”
he only presses you closer to him. “i don’t know who you’re fooling, baby. i saw you skip that pitcher of water entirely.”
your eyes widen and snap up to meet his. then, feigned nonchalance. “i didn’t need it.”
“i’d have healed faster with it.” then, he grins down at you, canines and eye crinkles and all. “it’s okay, baby, i’d do the same so i could get in the pants of my hot, muscular, super handsome—”
you smush a pillow over his face.
“you wanted me first,” you protest. “you probably asked a bunch of kids to cut you up so you had an excuse to come see me.”
percy’s lack of retort—and movement—makes you sit up.
“oh my gods.”
“listen—”
“there is no way.”
he groans, burying his face deep into your hair. "you're never gonna let me live this down, are you?"
you only grin in reply, canines and eye crinkles and all. "never."
Synopsis: Grover is known for being loyal and sweet, but... what if his nature gets the better of him at the end of the day?
Warnings: SMUT, SMUT, +18 CONTENT!!! P in V sex, heavy kissing and touching, kind of public sex (forest👀), RAW SEX (guys use condoms PLEASE I BEG U), SEX WITH A SATYR (if it wasn't clear enough by now lmfao), kind of OOC Grover (sorry for that, i tried my best☹️), just satyr behavior overall!!
Notes: I couldn't get this idea off of my head so I just wrote it HEHEHEHEEH. English is NOT my first language btw. Hope you enjoy! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
ACT 1: The Catalyst.
"The catalyst" is often someone that causes a change. The word is derived from the Greek katalύein, meaning "to dissolve.”
That's exactly what you meant to Grover Underwood, the role model Satyr.
At least that's what you thought he was. Since Satyrs always had that disgusting and infamous reputation of lustfully pursuing nymphs and mortal women, trying to seduce and even rape them. Carrying themselves in that slobbering arousal only they knew how to bear in that untamed nature they all shared…But Grover is not like that at all. It always feels sunny when being close to him. He is kind, devoted and sweet. Wiith that beautiful smile plastered in his face, probably one of the prettiest you've ever seen.
Getting to know him was easy, everything flows peacefully among you. Some days it felt like fate themself put you in each other's path. You matched so well that he slowly came to fall in love with every detail you had. In love with the way your eyes looked at him with sugar-spun kindness made his heart pound so hard he felt like it was going to stop working. How your clothes looked godly tailored in your skin, which was soft and exuded the sweetest scent he got the pleasure to perceive. Every time he got close to you, every single hug you shared, he could feel it, making his head spin and his ears twitch.
It was romantic, the way the two of you acted like two kids in love, trying to hide their feelings from one another. Stealing glances when the other wasn't looking, getting that involuntary shy smile… That was at first, of course.
Nowadays it is different. You stop acting so anxious around each other, it's like you broke that shame barrier that stopped you from being completely comfortable around each other.
Today is one of those days at Camp Half-Blood where the golden of the afternoon sun hits your skin, making it deliciously warm. “Dad must be happy today.” You spoke softly for only yourself to hear, squinting your eyes as the sun hit right at your eyes, temporarily blinding you as you walked your path back to Cabin 7 after finishing morning chores. The orange camp shirt is a little worn by how much you use it, along with your bead necklace, each wooden ball showing how many years you've been in this place. It was all so familiar and unusual at the same time.
Lost in thought, you didn't hear the voice calling your name the first couple of times, until the emitter touched your shoulder. You stop in track and look at the person: Grover.
There he was, handsome as always. “Hey sunshine! Everything alright?” His voice broke through your daydreaming, followed by a light, playful nudge to your shoulder. He looked like he'd just come from the woods; There was a stray leaf caught in his curly hair and his goat-half was dusty.
You snorted, finally focusing your eyes. “Yes! I was just thinking about the hymn for tonight's campfire.” “That sounds nice. What are your ideas?” He sounded genuinely interested. “Wouldn't want to spoil it.” You smiled at him, both of you chuckled. You truly loved him, feeling such a warm feeling in your chest every time you laughed together. As the two of you walked together, you interlinked your arm with his. It was supposed to be a simple gesture between two friends who had broken all the awkward barriers months ago... Right?
You've been working in the sun, so you were radiating that gentle, natural heat only Apollo's kids carried. For you, it was just arms interlocked, walking side by side like two old ladies. But for Grover, that proximity was like a physical blow. Your scent: Warm laurel mixed with something sweet hit him like the force of a tidal wave, going straight to his marrow. He didn't lean into it. In fact, he went perfectly tense as you walked. His heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. You overthought it when you felt his forearm tensing under your fingers. You let go and, as you did so, the wind shifted. Luckily, you already reached your cabin. So you took some distance from him, and said: “See you at dinner?”
He was still a bit shocked. “Yeah,” he managed, his voice cracking slightly. “Dinner. Right.” You walked right to the cabin stairs as he stepped back a little too fast, nearly tripping over an irregularity in the rocky path. He offered a quick, jagged smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, which were suddenly darting everywhere but your face. He looked like a deer or, a goat, ready to bolt into the brush. He turned and headed toward any other place, not really knowing where, he was too focused in trying to remember how to breathe.
You stood at the entrance of Cabin 7, your arm still half-raised in a wave, watching the way his ears flickered nervously toward you even as he walked away. Usually, he'd escorted you. Usually, he'd stay and chat until you grew tired of his jokes. But today, the space he left felt strangely cold, even under the afternoon sun.
“That was weird,” You muttered to yourself, a small frown tugging at your brows. You stood a few seconds there, and didn't enter your cabin. You went straight to Cabin 6, looking for answers. Looking for Annabeth. If anyone could explain why you guys best friend was suddenly acting like you were made of Greek Fire, it was a daughter of the Goddess of Wisdom.
ACT 2: The "Sweet" vs. The "Wild"
You didn't even had to knock. The door to Athena's cabin was already ajar, revealing a room that smelled of old parchment paper and lemon floor wax. Inside, Annabeth was hunched over, going through some of her belongings.
She looked up as she saw you approaching. “Gods, y/n, are you okay?” She stood up straight now, a shirt between her hands. “You're radiating enough thermal energy to heat the infirmary… What did Grover do?” You blinked, momentarily stunned by the daughter of Athena's efficiency. “How did you-” “Pattern recognition.” She didn't let you finish your sentence, her eyes sharp. “You only look this frazzled when he's involved. Sit down, tell me.” You sank into her bed, your fingers twisting the hem of your worn orange shirt. “We were just walking… Arm-in-arm. It was fine… Normal! But then he went stiff. Like I was made of load instead of light. He practically ran away. He looked so uncomfortable.”
Annabeth folded yet another shirt and left it in an organized pile at the other end of the bed with a deliberate pat. She stood in front of you, crossing her arms. “He wasn't uncomfortable because of your fault, y/n. He was uncomfortable because of the fact that he's a biological organism with an incredibly sensitive nervous system.”
You thought about what she just said for a few seconds, without finding any logic. “What is that supposed to mean?” You dared to ask. “It means,” Annabeth sighed. “that you are the daughter of the Sun. You're a walking battery of golden energy and scent. And Grover? He's a creature of the wild. Satyrs don't just “see” people; they experience them. They smell your emotions, they feel your heat, they hear your pulse.” Annabeth looked at you with a touch of pity. “Think about the legends, y/n. What are satyrs known for? They aren't exactly known for “friendship”. They are known for the chase. For the wild, untamed side of nature that doesn't know how to say “no” when it catches a scent.”
You felt a flush creep up your neck at every word that came out of Annabeth's mouth. “But Grover isn't like that. He's sweet, and-” "He's trying to be.” Annabeth interrupted yet again. “And that's why he ran. He's fighting his own nature because he respects you. But the more "innocently" you link arms with him, the more you're pouring gasoline into the forest fire. He's not avoiding you because he's bored, or doesn't want to be your friend anymore. He's avoiding you because he's a hairs breadth away from proving every bad reputation his kind has ever had.”
The silence in the cabin was heavy. You looked down at your hands, the warmth you usually felt now turning into a spark of something bolder. “So…if I want to know for sure that…” You rethought your words. “If I want to see if he actually feels the same way… I should… Push his limits?” Annabeth sighed. ”Not exactly. Just stop being 'just friendly'. Take a real step. If he stays, you have your answer. If he runs again…well, at least you'll know his willpower is stronger than his instinct.”
For the next few days, the camp felt different. Every time you saw the familiar rhythm of hooves, your heart did a nervous little flip. But Grover was a ghost. He was overcompensating by being the “perfect guardian” to his ward by staying miles away from you.
Finally, when you couldn't bear the cold distance anymore, you remembered Annabeth's words: “Stop being just friendly. Take a real step.”
You started looking for him around camp, and you found him when the sun was setting, near the edge of the woods where the strawberries gave way to wild, untamed thickets. He was sitting on a stump, obsessively cleaning his flute, looking like he was trying to vibrate out of his own skin. “Annabeth says I'm like gasoline,” You said in an act of bravery, your voice cutting through the quiet chirping of the crickets.
Grover nearly jumped out of his pelt, he didn't even know why he got scared by that, I mean, he smelled your scent miles away. He didn't look up, his fingers gripping the flute so hard his knuckles went white. “Annabeth is… observant. I'm sure she meant it as a compliment. About your… energy.”
“She said you were the forest fire.” You didn't stay back. You walked up right into his space, your shadow stretching long and golden over his hooves. You felt the heat under your skin, not the gentle warmth of a friend, but the burning, intentional light of a daughter of the Sun. “Grover, look at me.” He tried to keep his composure. He really did. He lifted his head, a polite, strained smile ready to dismiss her; but then his eyes met hers. Up close, the “sugar-spun” kindness in her gaze had vanished, replaced by a focused, burning intent. “y/n, I- I really should go. The harpies will be out soon and-” She didn't let him finish. She reached out, her fingers brushing the sensitive, soft fur at the tips of his ears before sliding down to cup his jaw. Her skin was scorching. As her thumb swiped across his lower lip, Grover made a sound that wasn't a chuckle. It was a low, vibrating hitch in the back of his throat. A sound of pure, unadulterated hunger. His nostrils flared, taking in the scent of laurel and sun-warmed skin until his head swam.
For a heartbeat, his nature won. His hand flew up. His fingers, strong and calloused, clamping around your wrist. It wasn't the “sweet” touch you were used to; it was heavy, possessive, and primal. His eyes, usually so bright and anxious, went dark, the pupils blowing wide.
He pulled you an inch closer, his breath hot against your face, smelling of wild mint and earth. The 'lustful' satyr of the legends flickered in his expression, raw and honest.
Then, the guilt hit him like a physical blow.
He gasped, his eyes snapping wide in horror as he realized he was gripping you too hard, that he was looking at you like a prey. “I can't,” he choked out, his voice dropping into a rough, animalistic rasp you'd never heard before. “y/n, I cant do this to you. I'm not… Sorry. I'm sorry.” He shoved himself off the stump, nearly knocking you over in his desperation to get away. He didn't look back. He scrambled into the dark safety of the trees, his hooves thundering a frantic, shamed rhythm against the forest floor.
You stood there, alone in the darkening field, your wrist still tingling. You weren't hurt; you were breathless. Because in that split second before he ran, you hadn't seen the 'naive' Grover at all. You had seen his nature. And it was exactly what you had been looking for.
ACT 3: The Language of the Woods.
The woods at day and night weren't the same. At night, the shadows grew thicker, the air cooler… And you couldn't find Grover.
You pushed through a screen of low-hanging willow branches, your breath coming in short, shallow hitches. You didn't need a torch to wander darkness; the light of your father hummed just beneath your skin, a soft, golden bioluminescence that made the leaves glow as you passed. You followed the scent of crushed mint and the frantic, rhythmic thud-thud-thud of a heartbeat that hurried anxiously to get back to camp.
You found him in a small clearing where the moonlight barely reached the mossy floor. He was still walking, a few feet in front of you, his chest was heaving, his ears pinned back against his head in a gesture of pure, animalistic distress. “Go away, y/n.” he rasped. His voice was a jagged edge of his former self. “Please. Just go back to the cabins.” “I'm not going back, Grover.” She stepped into the clearing, her golden light spilling over his trembling shoulders. “You didn't hurt me. Why did you ran?”
Grover let out a choked, bitter laugh. He finally looked up, and the sight made your own heart skip. His face was flushed, his lips parted as he fought for air. But it was his eyes… They weren't the eyes of the sweet friend' anymore. They were dark, swimming with a primal, heavy heat that made the “slobbering arousal” of the legends feel suddenly, terrifyingly real. “You saw it,” he hissed, his hooves kicking at the roots beneath him. “I touched you like… like one of them. I felt it, y/n. The second you touched me, I forgot every rule, every lesson. I just wanted to take…” His hands were shaking, and he quickly reached down, his fingers finding the hem of his orange camp shirt. He gave it a sharp, desperate tug downward (the “sneaky” habit he'd been using around you for days) but this time, he was too close, and the movement was too frantic to hide the truth of a burning erection.
He couldn't hide his nature anymore. The “reputation” wasn't just a story; it was a physical force radiating off him in waves, thick as the forest musk. “I've spent years trying to be the man you deserve,” he whispered, stepping into your light until he was close enough to feel each other's warmth. You reached out, your fingers grazing the rough cotton of his shirt, right where his hand was still desperately tugging at the hem. “Then show me.” you whispered, voice a bold contrast to the distant, shrill screech of a Harpy echoing near the climbing wall.
Grover froze. The sound of the patrol was getting closer, the beating of leathery wings vibrating in the air. “The Harpies,” He choked out, his survival instinct warring with the heavy, pulsating heat in his blood. “If they see your light…” “Then take me somewhere they won't.” He didn't hesitate this time. The usual Grover would have ushered you back to the safety of the cabin, but the Satyr simply wanted you safe and alone. He grabbed your hand, his grip firm and no longer shy, and pulled you deeper into the thicket.
You scrambled through a wall of dense ivy and over fallen logs covered in glowing moss, moving into a part of the woods where the trees grew so close together that even the moonlight couldn't follow. The two of you bursted into a small, hidden hollow. It was a natural grotto, shielded by a curtain of weeping willow branches and ancient, heavy stones. It smelled of damp earth, sweet jasmine, and Grover's own wild, musky scent. Here, the sounds of the camp were muffled and dead. There were no Harpies here. No rules. Just the rhythmic sound of their breathing. He let go of your hand, but he didn't move away. You sat down, your back hitting the cold, mossy stone of the grotto wall. “No one comes here,” he rasped as he sat in front of you. His voice dropped to a guttural hum that vibrated right through your chest. The darkness of the cave made your golden glow even brighter, illuminating the sheer, raw hunger in his face.
Grover shifted to seat next to you, close enough that your shoulders were touching. He felt stiff, a wall of heat and trembling muscle. In the confined space, the scent of you was intoxicating: sunlight and laurel trapped in a cool, damp cave. “I tried so hard,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I watched the others, the ones who made nymphs uncomfortable, the ones who didn't know how to stop…and I promised the gods I wouldn't be that. Especially not with you. You're too bright, y/n. You're too good to be looked at with this kind of… greed.”
He shamefully lowered his head, looking exhausted, like he'd been fighting a war for years and finally lost. “I'm not a man,” he confessed, the words spilling out in a jagged rush. “I'm a creature of the earth, and you're the sun.” He rearranged his position, sitting right in front of you now, looking right at your eyes. “Do you have any idea what that does to me? Every time you laugh, every time you touch me, it's like a root catching fire. I don't just ‘like’ you. I want to pull you down into the moss and never let you go. I want to be as wild as the stories say.”
You didn't feel grossed out by that. You simply reached up, your palms sliding over his chest, feeling the frantic, heavy thud of his heart. “Then stop fighting it,” you murmured, steady and sure. “I want you.”
That was the final thread. He snapped, and his satyr nature took over with a low, desperate groan that vibrated against your lips. He didn't wait for you to change your mind. He lunged forward, his mouth crashing against yours with a hunger that had been suppressed for far too long. It wasn't a “sweet” kiss. It was deep, possessive, and a taste of the wildness that he carried inside. His hands tangled into your hair, his fingers pulling at the strands as if he were trying to anchor himself to you. He tasted like the earth and the night, and his kiss was a frenzied conversation; one that spoke of years of longing, of hidden glances, and the sheer, overwhelming relief of finally being allowed to want.
You leaned into him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, meeting his intensity with your own. As his body pressed yours firmly against the cool stone, the last of his hesitation dissolved. The grotto was no longer a hiding place; it was an altar to the nature you both finally accepted.
He broke the kiss, took off his shirt because of the heat he felt, and threw it aside. He kissed you again, as if he would disappear if he didn't. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him close to feel any type of friction.
You could feel his erect shaft against your core, grinding against you as all you could do was kiss him back, melting into one another. It was like some kind of spell he had put on you, hypnoticed by every part of his body, by every movement he made. You held one hand to his hair and the other one on his bicep, letting out a low moan into his mouth while he let out a low growl into yours.
Grover never felt this desperate before, he ran his hands down your shirt to feel your abdomen, sneaking his thumbs under your bra and running them over your nipples. You lowered your hand to touch his cock through his pants, it felt hard as a rock.
His shaft throbs insistently against the fabric, hot and rigid beneath your palm. You gasp into his mouth as you stroke him through his pants, feeling every thick inch pulse with need. “Fuck…” he growls, breaking the kiss momentarily before capturing your lips again. His hands slide lower, fumbling with the button of your pants with desperate urgency. The metal clink echoes in the enclosed space as he pops it open.
Cool air hits your heated skin. He breaks away long enough to look down at you, and what he sees seems to undo him entirely. Your flushed face, heavy-lidded eyes, the way your chest rises and falls with ragged breaths… Without warning, he hooks his fingers into the sides of your panties and yanks them down. Hard. The delicate fabric tears slightly at the seam. “y/n…” His voice is raw, barely controlled. Those strong hands grip your hips, positioning you over his obvious erection still trapped in his pants. The wet spot at the tip has soaked through the material, leaving a dark stain. “Are you sure you want this?” His voice comes out strained, almost painful. His grip tightens on your hips possessively, keeping you in place.
You look at him as a slow, sultry smile curves your lips. "Isn't it obvious?" you purr, voice dripping with confidence and need. One hand reaches down, trailing along his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall of his breathing beneath your fingertips. "I've waited a long time for this. For you. Do you really think I'd want to stop now?" His mouth descends on yours in a fierce, hungry kiss to your neck, his tongue invades, claiming, tasting. The movement is rough, impatient. Desperate. When your core presses against the bulge straining against his pants, he groans into the crook of your neck, a sound of pure animal need.
His hands shake slightly as they work at his belt, fumbling with the zipper. The metallic clink of the buckle hitting the ground echoes in the small space. Then his cock is out, freed, and the size of it makes your breath catch. You heard what stories were told about satyrs, but fuck. Already leaking with need, he positions it at your entrance, the hot head brushing against the wet folds.
His eyes meet your, dark with possession and raw, aching desire blurring together into something overwhelming. Each thrust drives deeper than the last, hitting places inside you that make your toes curl and vision go white. But there's also an ache building low in your belly, that stretch that comes from being filled too deeply, too thoroughly. It hurts. Gods, it hurts so good.
But you don't want him to stop. You don't want this to end. The thought of him pulling out, of this moment ending, terrifies you almost as much as the burning sensation spreading through your lower abdomen. "Ah!" you cried out, the sound mixing pain and ecstasy in equal measure. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving crescent-shaped marks in the skin. "Fuck, it feels good." you moan. "Yeah it does– ngh–" He hissed, his movements becoming even more frantic, more desperate, as if he's trying to bury himself inside you completely, to claim every single inch of your body as his territory.
One of your hands sneaked to your clit, starting to draw circles. The combination of vicious thrusts and clit stimulation sends conflicting signals through your nervous system, pain and pleasure intertwining until you can't tell one from the other. The grotto filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh, wet and obscene. Every. Single. Thrust. Burns. Not just the good burn of arousal. Real, honest-to-gods pain radiates through your lower belly, that stretched-too-far discomfort that makes you want to squirm. Your abdominal muscles tremble with the effort of accommodating him, your insides feeling like they're being rearranged from the inside out.
And yet, oh gods, and yet your body betrays you. Your inner walls clench around him involuntarily, trying to hold him inside despite the discomfort. Nerve endings you never knew existed scream with sensation. Clit throbs under relentless attention, swollen and hyper-sensitive. But then reality crashes back in. Somehow this earthy place and the fact that it's still camp property and anyone could catch you make the adrenaline higher. Panic shoots through you even as pleasure spirals higher. He's close, you can feel it in the way his movements become even more erratic, the way his breathing turns to ragged pants against your neck. The way his entire body tenses above you.
"Wait—wait!" Your voice cuts through the sound of your bodies, urgent and frightened. "Don't... don't cum inside!" But before he can pull out, your body betrays you once more. The overwhelming sensations: the stretch, the pain, the pleasure, the need… All coalesce into something unstoppable. "Oh gods— Wait– oh gods—I'm—!" Your voice cracks as your inner walls clench rhythmically around his cock. The orgasm rips through you like lightning, making your whole body shudder and convulse. White-hot pleasure centers at your core and explodes outward, flooding your senses.
He watches your face as you come undone, and the sight triggers something primal in him. Before you can recover, before the waves of pleasure can fade, he's grabbing your hips again, fucking into you a couple more times till he pulled out. Two strokes of his fist, and he's cumming. Thick streams shoot out, landing across your exposed belly in warm, sticky ribbons. Some splashes onto your breasts, cooling rapidly in the night air. He stays still, processing what just happened.
The silence that followed was heavy, but no longer tense. It was the kind of silence that only exists in the deepest parts of the forest after a storm has passed. Grover was frozen, his hands shaking as he fumbled with his clothes. The rough, animalistic power that had possessed him moments ago had vanished, leaving behind the anxious, sweet guy who was now looking at the mossy floor in a panic.
"Shit! I'm sorry," he hissed, the word sounding strange in the quiet grotto. He stretched out too fast, grabbing your panties that were lying around the floor and trying to take off as much semen as he could from your abdomen. His face was a deep, burning crimson that even the shadows couldn't hide. "I didn't—I wasn't... Sorry. Oh gods-" You reached out, fingers warm as you caught his wrist, stopping his frantic cleaning. "Grover, it’s okay! Seriously. Don’t worry about it." You gave him a soft, tired smile. "I’ll sneak into the bathroom to take a shower. No one will even know I was out."
Grover stopped moving. He looked at your hand on his wrist, then up at your face. The "normal Grover" was trying to claw its way back, but the way you were looking at him, without a trace of the ‘disgust’ he’d feared for years, slowly started to settle the frantic beating of his heart. "You're not... you don't hate me?" he whispered, his voice small. "I mean I was–"
"Well, the stories don't exactly make it sound like a 'gentle' experience." You let out a soft, breathy laugh and pulled him down so he was sitting on the moss beside you, leaning your head on his shoulder. He let out a long, shuddering breath, finally allowing his weight to settle against you. He reached up, his hand much gentler now as he tucked a stray, sweat-dampened strand of hair behind your ear. "I really like you," he murmured, his ears giving a tiny, shy flick.
"Good," you whispered, giving him a small kiss on the lips. "I really like you too." Both of you sat there for a few more minutes, a satyr and a daughter of the sun, hidden away from harpies and rules. For the first time, Grover didn't feel like a creature fighting his nature. He just felt like Grover.
girl omg i just read mrs kennedy and i legit can’t take it it’s so good🤤🤤😳 would you do a part 2 ?
Mr. Kennedy
Leon Kennedy x wife!reader (7.2k words)
A/N: ask and you shall receive! HELLO? You guys LOVED the first one and I’m freaking kicking my feet and giggling. Like I literally am so happy you guys liked it. So without further ado here’s my SECOND ever smut post. Enjoy Leon’s pov.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem reader, kissing, fingering, oral, edging, Leon POV, eventual smut, p in v, unprotected sex, long distance marriage,
Summary: after the long drive back to the hotel, Leon promised you a shower, but he’s an easily distracted man.
Part 1 HERE
Leon Kennedy had spent four months imagining what it would feel like to have his wife within arm’s reach again. The reality, it turned out, was better than anything his sleep-deprived brain could come up with.
The drive back to the hotel was a quiet kind of bliss, the kind that came after adrenaline finally burned out of his system with the help of the beautiful woman next to him. His hand moved slowly through her hair while he drove, the soft rhythm of it almost automatic now.
She had her head leaned back against the seat, eyes half-closed, looking like she might fall asleep right there in his passenger seat.
Leon couldn't blame her.
Hell, he could probably fall asleep too if he stopped moving for more than five minutes.
The hum of the Porsche filled the quiet space between them, and for the first time in months there wasn’t a radio in his ear, a mission clock ticking down, or a report waiting for him when he landed somewhere new.
Just her.
Just this.
It almost felt normal.
He’d dug through the suitcase earlier and pulled out the soft gray sweats he knew she liked to wear when she was tired. Let her change in the backseat while he cleaned up the mess they’d made back there.
His car was going to need a detail when he got home.
Worth it.
“Might need a shower when we get back,” he’d said, pressing a kiss to her shoulder.
The way she’d looked at him after that had nearly convinced him to pull the car over again.
Four months. Of sleeping in safehouses, flying across time zones, and pretending during their phone calls that everything was fine.
Four months of things he’d never tell her about. Yet the second she’d climbed into his lap earlier, it had been over. Work was a distant concern.
Leon turned the wheel and eased the Porsche into the curved pickup lane outside the Watergate. The car rolled to a smooth stop beneath the overhang as the building lights washed over the windshield. His hand slipped from her hair, and he shifted the car into park.
“We’re here.”
She sat up slowly, blinking like she’d just woken from a dream, and then she looked out the window. Leon watched the exact moment her brain processed what she was looking at, and her mouth opened slightly, nearly dropping all the way.
He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. The Watergate wasn’t exactly subtle.
Floor after floor of white stone and glass curved outward in a massive half-circle, the entrance glowing under the canopy lights. The word "WATERGATE" was stretched across the wall in large wooden letters framed by greenery beside the sliding doors.
She stared at it like someone had just dropped her in the middle of a palace.
“Please tell me they put you in a suite.”
Leon glanced over at her. One hand was gripping the window ledge like she might launch herself out to inspect the place personally.
He huffed a quiet laugh and reached for the door handle.
"Come on, gorgeous,” he said. “Before you catch a fly.”
He stepped out and tossed the keys to the valet without breaking stride. The kid behind the stand looked about as stunned as she had, elbowing the guy next to him and nodding toward Leon like he’d just been a celebrity.
Leon ignored it.
The only person he was paying attention to was still sitting in his passenger seat.
He reached the door just as she started to open it herself and beat her to it, offering his hand. She took it without hesitation, and cold air swept through the pickup lane the moment she stepped out. She pulled her shoulder in slightly as the wind caught a few loose strands of her hair.
Leon lifted a hand instinctively, blocking the worst of the gust from hitting her face.
“Wait a second,” he said. “I’ll grab your bags.”
She looked innocent now, beautiful, standing beneath the glow of the hotel lights with the city wind brushing around her. The night he’d left, he’d watched a taxi pull away from their driveway while she stood on the porch waving, pretending she wasn’t worried. Seeing her here now, within reach again, made something in his chest settle in a way it hadn't in weeks.
She nodded while he walked around to the trunk, wrapping her arms around herself against the cold.
It took him maybe ten seconds to get the luggage. Two rolling suitcases and another bag strapped to the larger one.
Leon glanced down at the collection.
Yeah. That tracked.
He grabbed the handles and fell into step beside her as they headed inside. He made a point not to walk ahead, keeping pace with her instead while they crossed the lobby toward the elevators.
The inside of the place was massive. High ceilings stretched overhead, chandeliers hung from nearly every open space, and light reflected off the polished floors and elevator doors.
Leon barely looked at any of it.
He’d been in enough government-paid hotels to stop caring.
She hadn't, though.
He glanced sideways and caught her scanning the entire lobby like she was trying to memorize it. The smirk returned before he could stop it.
She definitely saw, so when she stopped walking, Leon made it two steps before realizing she wasn’t beside him anymore. He turned back just in time to see her standing there with her arms crossed, the look on her face already telling him she was about to say something ridiculous.
“Why aren’t you holding my hand?”
Leon stared at her for a second. Then his shoulders sagged as he narrowed his eyes slightly when realization hit.
She was messing with him.
Of course she was.
For a second he just stared at her. The question was absurd considering both his hands were full of her luggage, but the small challenge in her expression made it clear she knew that already. She wasn’t asking because she expected a reasonable answer. She was asking because she knew exactly what she meant to him.
Also because she knew exactly how to push his buttons.
Leon felt the corner of his mouth pull upward before he even realized he was smiling. Four months away from her had been long enough that if she’d asked him to carry her through the entire hotel lobby instead of the luggage, he probably would have done that too.
Yet Leon didn’t take the bait as he turned back toward the elevators. Then, he stuck out his ring finger and pinky without looking back.
Two empty fingers. That was the best she was getting while he was carrying three suitcases.
Behind him he heard her start walking again, and then, a moment later, her hand wrapped easily around the two fingers he’d offered. Leon felt the small pressure of it settle there like it had always belonged. It was ridiculous, really—standing in the middle of a government hotel lobby holding onto each other like that—but the quiet warmth of it made something in his chest loosen anyway.
The elevator ride up was quiet, but not in an uncomfortable way. She was always soft and familiar; Leon stood beside her with one hand resting on the handle of the suitcase while the other absently brushed against the back of her arm every time the elevator shifted floors.
She hadn't stopped looking around since they stepped inside, her eyes flicking from the mirrored walls to the floor numbers lighting up one by one above the door like a kid counting down to something exciting.
Leon watched the reflection of her instead of the numbers, the soft curve of her shoulders and the way the warm hotel lighting caught the edges of her hair, a faint flush still lingering in her cheeks. It would have been easy to reach out, to pull her against him again like he had earlier in the car, but something about the quiet moment made him hold back. So many nights of staring at unfamiliar ceilings had made him forget how loud a room could feel with her in it, even when she wasn’t saying a word.
When the elevator doors finally slid open, she stepped out first, already scanning the hallway while Leon followed behind with the luggage.
"435," he said as the carpet swallowed the sound of their footsteps, walking down the curved corridor.
He had checked in hours ago, right after landing in D.C., before he’d gone to pick her up. At the time, the room had felt like any other paid hotel—quiet, too clean, and temporary.
That would change with her.
By the time he unlocked the door, she was practically vibrating beside him. The suite opened into a wide living space, all pale stone floors and soft lighting, the massive windows along the far wall looking out over the city like a glowing grid of gold and white. She stepped inside first and stopped just past the entryway, turning slowly as she took everything in.
The reaction was immediate.
“Oh my god."
Leon closed the door behind them and leaned the suitcases against the wall, watching her instead of the room. She moved through the space like someone exploring a new house, crossing the living area to press her hands against the back of the couch before turning toward the windows. The entire wall was glass, the traffic lights flicking below between buildings like distant fireflies.
“Leon,” she said, turning back toward him with wide eyes. “Look at this place.”
He glanced around briefly, mostly out of obligation. The government loved places like this when they were footing the bill—large and anonymous. Nice enough that nobody asked questions, impersonal enough that you could disappear from them without leaving a trace.
“Yeah,” he said with a shrug. “It’s alright.”
She shot him a look that clearly said she didn’t believe him for a second before wandering further into the room. In the living area next to the couch was a low glass table, and just beyond that sat a small desk near the windows.
His laptop was already open there. Screen black. A stack of paperwork sat beside it, the government seal stamped neatly across the top page, along with the quiet weight of his shoulder holster draped over the back of the chair where he’d left it earlier.
Leon held his gaze there for half a second before he looked away. He had spent most of the afternoon trying not to think about work, and tonight he wasn’t about to start again.
Behind him she was already moving toward the bedroom doorway. Leon followed at a slower pace, stopping just inside as she pushed the door open. The bed alone looked like it could swallow both of them whole, which he was hoping for, with white sheets stretched perfectly across a mattress big enough to feel ridiculous.
She walked straight to it, pressing her hands into the comforter like she was testing it before immediately letting herself fall backwards onto it with a quiet laugh.
Leon leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his arms as he watched her bounce slightly against the mattress before rolling onto her side to look at him.
“Don’t tell me this doesn't impress you even a little.”
“It impresses you,” he said simply. “That’s enough.”
She huffed softly at that and pushed herself back up again, immediately wandering toward the bathroom. The lights flicked on, and a second later her voice echoed through the open doorway.
“Honey! The bathtub is bigger than our couch!”
He let out a quiet laugh under his breath, shaking his head as he stepped further into the room. She reappeared a moment later with the same bright excitement still lighting her face, pointing back toward the bathroom like she was about to drag him inside to see it.
“Want that shower now?” he asked, eyeing the door behind her.
A smile played at her lips as she crossed her arms and cocked a hip. “Like hell I'm taking one alone.”
“Like hell I'd ever let you.”
As much as he wanted to strip her bare and drag her into the shower right now, he turned from her and headed toward the suitcases instead. He heard a small, displeased noise behind him as her footsteps followed.
“What are you doing?”
She might not realize it, but he did think about things that would be inconvenient for her in half an hour. For example, her bathroom bag, which was most likely the large one on top with the zipper running all the way around it.
He picked it up from the top of the suitcases and held it up for her to see, raising a brow without a word.
"Oh," she said, her shoulders slumping a bit, “Yeah.”
He walked over to her where she still stood in the bedroom doorway and leaned down to give her a kiss, resting one hand lightly on her arm. "Leon knows best," he said against her lips, smiling, before moving past her into the bathroom.
As he walked past, he caught her rolling her eyes playfully, her arms still crossed over her chest.
Leon stepped into the bathroom, the space illuminated in a warm, soft glow from when she turned the light on. The room was nearly as large as the bedroom, with pale marble stretching across the floor and halfway up the walls.
A large countertop ran beneath a mirror that spanned the entire wall; two wide sinks set several feet apart screamed expensive in that understated way hotels like this favored.
Just beyond the sinks sat a deep soaking tub tucked against the far wall, large enough that Leon suspected it could comfortably fit two people without much effort.
Something he was keen on testing this week.
The shower stood opposite, separated by thick panes of clear glass that made the entire stall visible from nearly anywhere in the room. From the angle of the mirror above the sinks, the reflection carried straight through the glass door, meaning anyone standing in the shower could see themselves clearly from head to toe.
Leon set her bag down on the long marble counter beside the sink he had already claimed earlier that afternoon. The other side of the counter sat completely empty, with an identical basin waiting with neatly folded towels and untouched glassware, but he ignored it without a second thought. Instead, he unzipped the bag and placed it beside his own things, her toothbrush and travel bottles settling easily next to the ones he’d unpacked hours before.
It was a small thing, barely noticeable in a room that large, but it felt instinctive. Even with two sinks and more than enough space for them to spread out, the idea of keeping their things separate had never crossed his mind.
Leon stepped out of the bathroom with a towel draped loosely over one shoulder and stopped when he saw her by the door.
She had started to kick off her sneakers she’d changed into earlier and crouched slightly as she tugged at the heel of one before setting it neatly beside the other. The small pile of shoes almost looked ridiculous sitting next to his heavy boots and the suitcases they had abandoned by the wall.
For a moment he just watched her. All this time apart had apparently done nothing to dull the way his attention locked onto the smallest things she did.
She straightened just as he stepped closer, noticing him out of the corner of her eye while he bent down beside her.
Without a word he began unlacing his boots. The thick leather gave way easily under his fingers, and a second later he tugged them off and nudged them beside her sneakers. The quiet domesticity of it might have felt ordinary any other night.
Tonight it felt charged.
She opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but Leon didn’t give her the chance. He reached down and scooped her clean off the ground.
"Leon—!”
Her protest came out halfway between surprise and laughter as he lifted her easily, one arm behind her back and the other under her knees. She grabbed onto his shoulders out of instinct while he carried her across the room like she weighed nothing at all.
He didn’t answer her. Didn't even slow down.
The mattress dipped under her weight a second later when he dropped her onto the center of the bed. She bounced once, then propped herself up on her elbows, narrowing her eyes at him as he stood at the edge of the mattress.
Leon’s gaze drifted down to the loose cuff of her sweatpants and he reached forward, hooking a finger lightly around her ankle.
“Shower,” he said simply. “Now.”
Her brows lifted slightly as she leaned back on her hands, studying him with the kind of low amusement she always wore when she knew she had the upper hand.
“You’re quite demanding tonight.”
Here we go.
Leon didn't answer right away. Instead, he gave a single tug on her ankle, pulling her a few inches closer across the mattress before leaning forward over her.
The movement was deliberate and controlled, the space between them shrinking until he hovered just above her.
“Four. Months.” He said quietly.
The words carried more weight than he intended, and for a second he could feel the truth of them settle between them.
Four months of distance.
Missions.
Pretending a phone call was enough.
His hands slid beneath the hem of her sweatshirt, palms spreading across the warm skin of her stomach as his thumbs brushed lightly along her side.
“You have no idea what that does to a man," he said quietly as his hands began trailing up and down her sides, slowly inching lower. He followed the movement, lifting her shirt just enough to press light kisses along the warmth of her stomach.
“What this does to me.”
He drew one of her legs up so it wrapped loosely around his waist while his fingers nudged the waistband of her sweats down an inch, just enough to give him access to the sensitive hollow of her hip.
“You.”
Her hands found his hair then, gently brushing the strands away from his face so she could look at him. From where he now knelt between her legs, Leon tilted his head up, meeting her gaze.
She was mesmerizing like this, stretched out across the bed, her eyes dark with that same familiar hunger he remembered far too well. He could see the rise and fall of her chest quickening with each breath, could feel the way her leg tightened around him while she watched him. Her tongue pressed lightly against the inside of her cheek in that small way she did when she was trying to hold something back.
It’d been too long since he’d seen that look. Too long since he’d been close enough to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his hands.
And god, he had missed it.
In fact, the way she was looking at him suddenly gave him the perfect excuse to delay the shower. They’d get there eventually, but right now he was far more interested in indulging in the thing he’d missed most.
She didn’t protest. He pulled the sweats down farther before leaning back enough to slip each of her legs free from the fabric. He tossed them aside with the towel as he rose, his gaze following the length of her body until his hands caught the hem of her sweatshirt. Slowly he lifted it, wordlessly encouraging her to raise her arms so he could pull it off as well.
When she sat up, her hands found his chest, untucking his shirt and sliding beneath, her fingers trailing across the warm skin underneath. His hands moved to the back of her neck, guiding her to look up at him as he stood over her, taking in the sight of her for a moment longer than necessary. Just her like this alone made that same tightness from the airport tug at his cargo pants, begging for release.
Leon hadn't realized how long he’d been staring until she shifted slightly beneath him. The movement was small, barely noticeable, but it pulled his attention right back to her like it always did. The distance had done nothing to dull the way he noticed the smallest things—the rise and fall of her breathing, the way her fingers curled against the sheets, and the quiet look in her eyes when she watched him.
There had been nights during those months when the only thing that got him through another briefing or another flight was the thought of coming home to this. To her. Spread beneath him and perfect.
He’d be lying if he said there hadn't been nights he lingered over the pictures she sent him—laid out across their bed, dressed in the things he’d picked out for her, smiling at the camera like she knew exactly what she was doing to him. On long nights alone in hotel rooms, it was the only thing that could give him some kind of release. Like he needed now.
He leaned down then, capturing her lips in a slow, consuming kiss before letting her tug his shirt free the rest of the way up and over his head. Her hands explored the broad plane of his chest while the fabric joined the growing pile on the floor.
Leon bent again to kiss her, easing her back on the mattress as the moment deepened. His mouth moved from her lips to her jaw, drawing quiet sounds from her as her legs instinctively wrapped around him once more. He continued lower, pressing warm kisses along her neck and collarbone until her fingers slipped into his hair again.
“What happened to a shower?” she murmured.
His hands settled on her thighs, squeezing lightly as he held them against his sides.
“Can wait,” he muttered against her skin.
When he reached the edge of her underwear, there was no hesitation. He hooked his fingers lightly at either side and eased the fabric down her legs before tossing it aside.
When he settled between her again, he did so on his knees, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of her laid out before him. She gripped the sheets beneath her while he gently lifted her thighs, guiding them atop his shoulders.
His mouth moved slowly along the inside of her legs, unhurried, while one hand spread across the flat of her stomach and the other traced slow circles at her hip. The touch alone had her breath catching again, soft sounds and uneven pants escaping as she reacted to every teasing movement.
Leon knew exactly what she wanted, and the truth was he wanted it too. But after so long away from her, the warmth of her skin beneath his hands was something he wasn’t in any hurry to rush through. For now, he let himself linger in the movement, taking his time as if reminding both of them that she was finally there, within reach again.
Yet, she was impatient, it seemed, just as pent up even after the car as she tried to shift her hips closer to him.
Leon pulled back from her thigh for a moment just to watch her. Her head tipped back against the mattress, teeth catching her lower lip as if she was trying to keep something from slipping out. He could read the tension in her body easily enough.
The hand resting on her stomach drifted lower, his thumb sliding between her legs until it brushed over her sensitive spot.
The reaction was instant.
Her back arched slightly as she pushed her hips forward, trying to create movement, one hand lifting to her hair as a breath caught in her throat.
Still, it wasn't enough. It was slow and light.
Leon loved it.
He loved watching the way she reacted to him like this, every movement of his hand drawing something new from her. His thumb continued its slow circles while his mouth returned to her thigh, this time lingering closer to her center as he took his time.
“So pretty,” he murmured between kisses.
He wasn't just talking about the way she looked stretched across the bed, flushed and frustrated from the slow pace he’d set. No, he meant all of her. The growing warmth of her skin beneath his hands, the way she squirmed to his every touch, and the still glistening wetness left behind from their earlier encounter.
His hand shifted again, sliding lower as he drew a quiet sound from her that made him pause for a second longer than he meant to. For a moment he almost abandoned the patience he’d been holding onto, but instead he stayed where he was, letting the moment stretch for a little more.
Leon adjusted his hand, sliding two fingers inside her with a familiarity that came from knowing her too well. The reaction was perfection—her breath catching, the tension in her body changing in a way he knew by heart.
He rested his forehead briefly against her thigh, watching her as she lost herself in the feeling while he curled his fingers the way she loved. The quiet sounds she made only deepened the ache building low in him, the one that he thought he’d satisfied in the car.
When she said his name, soft but unmistakable, that was the moment his restraint finally gave way. He shifted again, removing his fingers before replacing them with his tongue.
The moment he did, he saw her head lift slightly, her mouth parting as she watched him. Satisfaction moved through him when he rolled his tongue against her, her head falling back again, hands finding his hair as she shifted against him.
She tasted exactly the way he remembered.
The way he’d missed.
The way he’d thought about it on too many long nights. And he loved it. Taking in every bit that he could as he savored her, feeling her building pleasure, losing his composure with every second.
If this were his last meal on death row, Leon figured he could die a happy man, especially with the way she moved against him now, the louder sounds she made urging him on.
He knew every way to bring her close, every way to hold her there when the moment came. Years together had taught him that much. But not yet.
Not now.
When she finally reached that familiar state where her thoughts scattered and her legs forgot any restraint, tightening around him without mercy, Leon pulled back at the last second. He rose from the bed and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth as he stood, catching his breath.
“What the fuck!”
She pushed herself up onto her elbows, frustration from before crashing back over her as he stole her climax right out from under her. The furrow in her brow and the flush across her face only seemed to amuse him more.
Before she could say anything else, Leon grabbed hold of her thighs and pulled her down the sheets in one strong motion until her hips met the solid line of him through his pants.
The surprised sound that left her mouth was cut short as he followed the movement, pressing her back into the mattress while her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.
Then, without another word, he bent and lifted her again.
Her arms looped around his neck automatically as he carried her across the room, her quiet protests dissolving as he kissed her once before heading straight for the bathroom.
Before he sat her on the counter, Leon grabbed a towel and spread it across the marble, the surface far too cold to be comfortable otherwise. Only then did he lift her up and settle her there, pulling her legs around his waist.
He found her lips again immediately, kissing her as she leaned back slightly, exposing the line of her neck. His mouth followed the curve of it, pressing slow kisses there, occasionally catching the skin with his teeth. While he kept her distracted, his hands worked at the waistband of his pants, tugging them down and off before returning his attention to her.
His mouth moved lower along the length of her chest, taking her breast in his mouth while drawing breathless sounds from her that only encouraged him further. Each reaction pulled another from her, the tension between them building again after the moment he had interrupted earlier.
Then he noticed her glance over her shoulder.
The large mirror above the sinks reflected everything in the room, the angle catching both of them clearly. The realization seemed to settle over her all at once as she watched the reflection.
Leon saw the exact moment it clicked. The reason he’d brought her in here, and it wasn’t a one-sided idea anymore.
He pulled back just enough to look at her properly, one hand lifting to gently catch her jaw so she faced him again. His thumb brushed lightly along her lower lip while she looked at him through half-lidded eyes.
“Turn around,” he said quietly.
She hopped off the counter without protest, trailing a hand up his chest before turning around and leaning against the towel, her palms splayed across the cool marble.
Seeing her from this angle nearly stopped him in his tracks.
His hands moved slowly down the length of her spine as he bent forward, following the same path with his mouth. The movement drew a quiet reaction from her as she shifted slightly beneath his touch.
When his hands reached her hips, he pulled her back against him just enough that the tip of him slid through her folds, her breath hitching. The contact alone pulled a shuddered gasp from her as her head dipped forward, her hips instinctively pressing back against him while she buried her face in her arms, grinding against him.
He let her enjoy it for a moment, moving himself back and forth against her wetness, already building back that peak from before.
Leon slid one arm up along her spine until his fingers found her hair, gathering a small handful before tugging lightly. The motion lifted her head from the counter, bringing her gaze toward the mirror in front of them.
When he leaned forward, his voice dropped low beside her ear, his eyes meeting hers in the reflection as he spoke.
“I want you to watch as I make you come,” he murmured.
His breath lingered along the curve of her neck, the words sending a visible shiver through her as she pressed her head back against him. The effect it had on her was clear, her hips reacting before she could even think about it.
“Can you do that for me, baby?”
She tried to nod, but his hand still held her gently by the hair. Leon let out a quiet breath against her skin before pressing a soft kiss near her temple.
“Good girl.”
Only then did he release his hold, his hand sliding down to her shoulder as he placed another kiss there. Then he shifted his hips, guiding her into place against him as the tension between them finally began to break.
She pushed her hips back onto him at the same moment he pushed himself inside her, pulling a low sound from his chest as she tightened around him. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth when she lifted her gaze to the mirror, watching him through the glass.
She knew exactly what this did to him. This angle. The way she moved against him. The way she felt.
This was different than the car—better. He could feel every shift, every bit of her wrapped around him, molded perfectly to take every last inch he had to give.
Leon wasted no time. He set a pace that was steady and deliberate, one he knew she’d love. He could see it in the way her focus slipped, her eyes struggling to stay on the mirror as the tension built through her, hitting her deeper than before.
His hands tightened at her hips, fingers pressing into her skin as he pulled her back again and again. One of his hands slid upward, bracing at her shoulder before moving to her neck, guiding her head just enough to keep her eyes lifted.
He wanted her to see it.
To feel it.
To stay there with him.
Her mouth parted, breath uneven, soft sounds escaping her as she lost herself in the moment. Leon watched her carefully, taking in every reaction, every shift of her body as she ground her hips against him, matching his motions.
He could have stayed there all night.
But the tension in him was already starting to crest, the steady control slipping into something hungrier. The way she responded to him, the way she moved, the way she felt—he couldn't ignore it. Getting a taste of her on the bed was already enough to send him into a frenzy; he needed relief.
Leon moved his hand up her jaw, hooking two fingers into the side of her mouth so she could suck on them, getting them wet for him. Then, his hand slid back down, moving between her legs again, his touch careful as he worked her closer to the edge he’d pulled her away from before.
He was greedy to feel her tighten around him, wanted her there first.
Always did.
The moment his fingers found her, her reaction was immediate. She leaned forward slightly, pressing herself against the counter as she tried to meet him, to match his pace, to take more of him.
Leon followed, one arm wrapping across her middle to keep her steady as he stayed close behind her.
“There it is, baby," he murmured, his voice low against her skin.
With how wet she was, it was easy for his fingers to keep a smooth, soft motion right on the spot she loved, and he didn’t need to ask if she was close. He could feel it.
The tension in her body. The way she moved, spreading her legs apart further for him. The way her breathing changed as she moaned through every thrust.
Years together had taught him everything he needed to know.
“Come on, beautiful."
Her hand found his where it rested against her stomach, fingers tangling with his as she forced herself to look back at the mirror again. To stay present. To follow him through it.
She always did.
“I’m so- close–”
The words broke apart between thrusts and breaths as he adjusted slightly, his hand returning to her hip, untangling from hers as the moment built.
He slammed into her harder, relentlessly, hearing her moans echo off the bathroom walls beneath him. He took all that she could give and more, sending her spiraling and tightening against him.
“Leon–”
Her voice faltered as the tension finally tipped, her body reacting in a way he knew by heart. Leon slowed slightly, holding her there through it against him, guiding her through the wave as it moved through her.
The reaction alone was enough to pull him under with her.
He followed a moment later, his grip tightening as the last of that tension gave way, pulling her hips back flush against him when he gave a final thrust, emptying inside of her.
The relief that crashed over him was enough to pull the air from his lungs. Being able to finish inside her alone gave him a sort of high he couldn’t explain, but this time, this second wave of release he let go of was perfection as he felt her walls spasm, begging for him to stay inside of her.
Leon leaned forward, resting his forehead between her shoulder blades, one hand braced against the counter as he steadied himself. The room felt warmer now, the air thick with them.
She stayed where she was, breathing unevenly as she leaned forward against the marble, her weight settling through her arms.
Leon’s hand moved slowly across her back, absent and grounding, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his palms.
The mirror had fogged.
Not from the shower they never took, but from the heat that had settled into the room long before either of them had thought to turn the water on. The marble beneath his hand was still cool, a stark contrast to everything else, and for a moment Leon stayed exactly where he was, standing behind her, one hand resting back at her waist like he wasn’t quite ready to let go yet.
When he finally pulled himself out, he felt her knees wobble beneath her. Leon reached out immediately, steadying her at the hips as his hands moved in slow, soothing circles over the spots he knew he’d held a little too tightly.
“Woah there, Bambi.”
She groaned against the counter and shot him a look over her shoulder, clearly unimpressed.
The corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't comment. Instead, he kept one hand on her, holding her steady while he reached farther down the counter with the other, grabbing a cloth. He moved carefully, taking his time as he cleaned her up while she stayed leaned forward, catching her breath.
When he was done, he set the cloth aside and slid both hands back to her hips, guiding her gently upright. She swayed for half a second before he pulled her back against his chest, one arm wrapping around her middle as he held her there. He leaned down to press a small kiss to the side of her head, watching the flush slowly fade from her cheeks.
Her breathing was slowing, the rise and fall of her shoulders evening out. Strands of damp hair clung to her skin in the reflection, soft and blurred through the thin layer of condensation on the glass. Leon’s gaze lingered, taking in the quiet aftermath of her, the way she looked when all that tension finally left her body.
He had missed this.
Not just the closeness. Not just the heat of her skin beneath his hands.
All of it.
The way she came undone. The way she trusted him enough to.
Leon reached for the towel he’d tossed aside earlier and shook it out before draping it loosely around her shoulders. The motion was automatic, practiced in the same quiet way everything else between them had become over the years. His hand didn’t leave her right away, fingers pressing lightly through the fabric as if grounding himself in the fact that she was actually here, that this wasn’t another memory he’d have to carry with him onto a plane or into a taxi.
“You good?” he asked, his voice lower now, softer than it has been all night.
She nodded, pulling the towel a little closer around herself as she let out a slow breath. “Yeah… i’m good.”
Leon studied her reflection again, watching the way her expression shifted—how the sharp edge of frustration and want had melted into something quieter and steady. Something that felt a hell of a lot like home.
His gaze dropped slightly, tracing the line of her shoulder where the towel had slipped just enough to expose warm skin beneath it. He leaned in without thinking, pressing a slow kiss there, lingering just long enough to feel her relax under it before he pulled back.
He should step away.
Give her space.
Instead, his hand slid from her shoulder down her arm, fingers brushing hers as if he needed that small point of contact to stay there a second longer. It was ridiculous, really. He had spent months in places where touch meant danger, where getting too close to anything or anyone could get you killed.
And now here he was, standing in a hotel bathroom in D.C., unable to take his hands off his wife.
“Still owe you that shower,” he muttered into her shoulder, the words quieter now, rough at the edges.
She huffed a soft laugh, glancing back at him, and the look she gave him was so familiar it almost knocked the breath from his chest.
“Pretty sure that was your idea, Mr. kennedy.”
Leon let out a breath that almost passed for a laugh, dragging a hand over the back of his neck before reaching for another towel. “Was,” he said, a small shake of his head following. “Plans changed.”
His gaze dropped to her, slower, in a way that made the space between them feel smaller again for a second.
“You make it difficult to stay on track.”
Her eyes lingered longer than usual as she smiled, taking him in the same way he’d been watching her all night. There was something softer in it now. Less teasing. More... something else.
Something he didn’t let himself think about too hard when he was gone.
Most of all, she looked tired. He stepped forward again before the silence stretched too far, his hand finding her lower back as naturally as breathing. “C’mon,” he said quietly, guiding her away from the counter. “Before you fall asleep in here.”
The suite felt different when they stepped back into it.
Quieter.
Like the world outside the windows had dulled just enough to give them this space.
Leon grabbed one of his shirts from his suitcases and handed it to her without a word, watching as she slipped it on, enveloping her body. His eyes watched her in that same absent way, not out of hunger this time, but something steadier. The kind of looking that came from knowing someone so well it didn’t feel like looking anymore. It felt like living.
She climbed onto the bed, pulling the covers back just enough before settling in, and Leon stood there for a second longer than necessary, just watching.
He couldn’t get over the fact that she was here. Right in front of him.
Real.
There were days he walked into things he didn't expect to walk out of. Days when the thought of coming home to her felt more like a hope than a certainty. He didn’t let himself dwell on it when he was out there, but it had a way of catching up to him in moments like this.
Leon exhaled slowly before crossing the room and climbing in beside her; the mattress dipped under his weight, and he didn't hesitate as he reached for her, pulling her into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Because it was.
She curled into his side immediately, already comfortable, already half-melted into the pillows and sheets. One of her hands settled against his chest while his fingers found their way back into her hair, moving slowly, absent, like he was grounding himself.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
Leon just watched her instead. The soft rise and fall of her breathing. The way her lashes rested against her cheeks. The faint marks along her skin that would fade by morning. He traced them lightly with his eyes, committing them to memory in that quiet, instinctive way he’d developed over the years of leaving and coming back.
He brushed his thumb along her arm before letting his hand settle against her waist, his gaze lingering on her for just a moment longer before he finally spoke.
“Maybe a bath instead?” he murmured.
She shifted slightly against him, tilting her head just enough to look up at him, a sleepy sort of curiosity in her expression.
Leon huffed a quiet laugh, the corner of his mouth lifting.
“That tub’s big enough to be considered a security risk," he added. “Pretty sure I could lose you in it and never find you again.”
A soft laugh slipped from her, quiet and warm, and it settled somewhere deep in his chest.
“Maybe in thirty,” she mumbled, the words soft and slurred as she settled back against him.
Leon smiled, his hand moving slowly along her arm as he felt her relax fully into him. It didn’t take long before her breathing evened out again, her body going loose in his hold like she’d finally let herself rest.
He shifted just enough to pull the blanket up and over her before settling back into the pillows. His hand found its place at her side again, holding her there without thinking.
ꫂ percy ❤️ your tits, smut so minors dni. a request by @junosjuice , hope you’ll like it, sorry if its too short. enjoy 💋
everytime you and percy have sex, he finds his way to your boobs— whether he’s sucking on your nipples, fondling them with his hands or grind his cock in between them. he just loves them. sometimes, when he’s bored, he just slide your shirt upwards and start circling his tongue around a nipple, “p-percy!” you yelp everytime he does that, he smiles sheepishly and just mumbles into your tits. “can’t help it sweets, just love ‘em”
he pounds into you in a super-sonic like speed, your legs folded against your shoulders as he held the back of your thighs, smirking as he watches your cunt suck his cock inside your walls. but the thing that actually catches his attention is how your boobs bounce when he thrusts in and out, so much that he buries his face in between them, still pounding into you as he applies wet kisses into the valley of your breasts.
but honestly? his favorite thing is getting a tit-job from you. seeing his dick disappear as he squeezes your breasts around it— the tip nudges your chin— can make him come undone in a few minutes. which is what he’s doing right now, chuckling as his cum shoots all over your pretty face, well… after he marked you with his cum in other places as well. “sorry sweets, couldn’t stop myself.” he mumbles one last time, before resting comfortably on top your breasts, snorting softly after a few mere seconds.
small, medium or large. percy doesn’t care, he loves them all, especially if its on you.
Blood of Zeus Seraphim Oneshot requested by AbysswalkerAstraea on AO3
Pairing: Seraphim + Reader
Word Count: 3831 Words
Warnings: Breeding Kink (if you squint), Praise Kink, Size Kink, Dumbification, Crying, Size Difference, Penatrative Sex, Oral Sex (F Receiving), Blood(v little it's from a bite during sexy times)
It was the dream again.
A polis was on fire. Screams could be heard all around as he strode through the carnage. People were running from him, looking over their shoulders in terror. The spear was thrumming in his hand, begging to be loosed unto the poor grecians in his path, hungry for blood, but he gripped it tightly.
Because you were running. Not away from him, but toward him. A group of demons pursued you, feral grins on their faces from the thrill of the chase. He adjusted his stance, squaring his shoulders-
He woke up.
Seraphim was in his tent, chest heaving up and down. A thin layer of sweat coated his body, and he growled in frustration. He had been having this same dream since he was a boy, and it had always confused him. As he got older, things began to make more sense. When he was a boy, he had thought he might have been a hero, some strapping soldier who was there to save the mystery maiden. Then he… changed.
Now he knew what the demons were, and why the polis was on fire. In fact, it seemed as though if his dream was prophetic, it would happen soon.
And he knew who you were now.
A human who lived in isolation, in a cabin in the forest near his camp. He had first encountered you helping a lost bear cub back to its mother. You had been terrified of him, hiding behind the bears, who arranged themselves protectively in front of you, and Seraphim found himself repulsed by the idea of killing you.
The bears defending this woman reminded him of his mother and the bears he grew up alongside. So instead of loosing his spear on you, he had spoken to you.
Since that day, Seraphim sought you out whenever he found himself in or near the forest, and everytime he visited your cabin, you warmed up to him just a little bit more.
The furs covering Seraphim’s cot were flung aside as he grabbed his spear and rushed out of his tent. Since meeting you, whenever he had that dream, he would go to you. He needed to reassure himself that you were safe, since his demons didn’t know about you. At times he caught himself worrying about them running into you just as he did one day, and they’d have nothing to still their hand: they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.
He made it to your cabin within minutes, not bothering to knock as he strode in. Like a moody youth, he stomped over to the bed where you had just sat up, breathing your name out in a sort-of relieved sigh.
“W-what’s happened?” you asked, voice scratchy from lack of use. You went to get up, seeing how tense he was-thinking something bad had happened, but he visibly relaxed, a soft grin coming onto his face.
“Must something happen for me to seek you out?” he challenged, pulling the covers aside so he could fall into bed beside you and tug you against his chest. One large hand cupped the back of your neck, keeping your head tucked into his shoulder, and the other was on your lower back, gripping the fabric of your sleep tunic tightly. You immediately cuddled into his warmth, giving a pleased hum at being close to him once more.
“I missed you, so I’ll let this one go,” you admitted after a moment, lips brushing against his skin as you spoke. You threw an arm around his neck as you leaned back, stretching up for a kiss. He chuckled at your struggle, leaning down to brush his lips softly against yours.
“Thank you, my love,” he murmured against your lips, eyes closing as he melted into you. “It is still early,” he whispered when he pulled away, rolling and taking you with him so you were laying completely on top of his body. “Let us sleep a little longer,” you smiled, eyes closing easily as you almost immediately fell back asleep, happy to have your love cuddled against you.
A couple of days later, Seraphim and a group of his demons carried out a raid on a nearby polis. They had burned a farm house on the outskirts first, a warning to those inside the polis, breeding fear and panic, and when the fire spread to the farm’s fields, they too had spread to the polis.
Everything was on fire now as Seraphim found himself basking in the terror of all the humans who tried to run. Weaklings, all of them. Perhaps the ones that tried to fight, if any of them survived, would be offered the choice to convert. But these ones… they would die. He flung his spear, watching as it went through the spine of one human and through another’s heart before continuing right on to the stone wall of a building that hadn’t collapsed yet. He held out his hand as he looked around, calling the spear back to him.
It was right after the shaft of his spear connected with the palm of his hand that his heart stopped.
You were running towards him, being pursued by a group of demons.
He found himself freezing, recognizing this from his dream and being almost overwhelmed because this was it it was happening right here right now you were going to die all because of him and his demons-
But it was the terror on your face that snapped him out of it.
A sneer overtook his own face as he glared at the demons pursuing his love. He tilted his chin up, squaring his shoulders as you got closer.
“Seraphim!” The demons behind you faltered, seeming startled at your calling out of their leader's name as if he would save you instead of end you, giving you the extra couple of seconds you needed to dive behind your demon lover’s back, the demons freezing when he pointed his spear directly at them.
“You won’t touch this one,” he growled, and the demons all glared at him in confusion for a moment before moving on. There were plenty of other humans running around the polis for them to slaughter.
As soon as they were gone, Seraphim called for his chimera. The screams in the polis grew louder as her shadow became visible against the stars. You stumbled at the force of the wind coming from her wings as she landed, but Seraphim was there with two steadying hands at your hips.
“Ser-Sera-”
“Silence!” he cut you off with a snarl, tugging you even closer so he could lift you onto his mount. You made no protest, unsure what you were even going to say. Instead you bowed your head and tangled your hands in the great beast’s fur. Seraphim climbed on behind you, a large grey arm looping around your waist and pulling you tight against his chest. He allowed his face to fall into your hair, taking a deep breath in before spurring the chimera into the air. You sagged into him, exhausted and overwhelmed by the events that had conspired. He didn’t even have to direct the chimera as she brought you two back to your cabin, she had flown there many a time before.
And neither of you spoke until you were back inside the cabin.
“What were you doing?” Seraphim snarled as he slammed the door. You flinched, cheeks burning in a combination of embarrassment and anger.
“I-I had to go into town,” you muttered, cursing yourself as you stammered.
“For what?” he stepped right up to you, crouching down so you were forced to look him in the eyes. You breathed in a heavy sigh as you gazed into his strange, mismatched eyes, before you reached into the apron of your dress, pulling out the gift you had gotten made for him. He took a step back as you held it out to him, one hand on the haft of the short sword and one hand holding the sheath.
“What?” he looked between you and the sword in confusion, making no move to grab it, and you shifted nervously on your feet.
“You-” you cut yourself off with a deep breath. “You throw your only weapon far away from you, and I just thought-what happens if someone attacks you before you can get it back?” you murmured, thrusting the sword into his hands and backing away so he was forced to hold it. “I-I’m sorry,”
He said nothing for a long moment, observing the sword. It had cost you quite a bit, and as he tested the grip, studying the sword with a warrior's eye, you hoped it was truly as useful a sword as you had hoped. After a moment, he pulled the sword from its scabbard. A giant of legend was engraved on either side of the blade, close to the base, and the end of the blade was curved ever so slightly.
“Where did you get this?” he asked, and you looked away again.
“It-it was custom made,” you muttered, finally lifting your gaze to meet his, worrying your lip with your teeth out of nerves. “D-do you like it?”
Seraphim’s posture relaxed ever so slightly, his eyes soft with adoration as he returned the blade to its scabbard and set it aside.
“I will carry it with pride,” he told you, voice thick with emotion as he raised a large hand to cup the back of your neck. In the next moment he was tugging you forward for a tender kiss, and you couldn’t help your lips quirking up as you kissed him back. He was barely able to pull away before you were pouting and craning your neck for another kiss.
This one, he did not pull away from. Instead one of his hands dropped to your hip while the other cupped your face, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You sighed happily, melting into him and allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth. You tentatively prodded it with your own, humming in pleasure as his hand squeezed your hip before moving lower, cupping you just under your ass, using the leverage to pull you completely flush to his body. A squeak left you as you were lifted off the ground, face now level with Seraphim’s so he didn’t have to hunch over to kiss you.
He shifted you ever so slightly, and a choked out groan left you when your core brushed against the hard planes of his abdomen.
“Come back to Melidoni with me,” he groaned out, lips trailing from yours, down your chin and neck to leave small bites across your clavicle. The words combined with the sting from his teeth caused you to gasp.
“W-what?” you tried to pull back, but Seraphim only allowed you to go so far, still intent on worshiping your neck and chest with kisses and bites.
“Come home with me,” he said again, allowing you a reprieve from his assault as he rested his forehead against your own. “Be my queen,” your brows rose.
“Sera, are you-” you got cut off by your own moan as he went back to leaving as many marks as he possibly could on you. “Are you asking me to marry you?” he chuckled, setting you down on your dining table so he could move his attention even lower, one of his hands brushing the straps of your tunic aside, causing it to fall and your breasts to spill out. You hissed out a sharp breath at the open air on your now exposed nipples.
“If I am?” he hummed against the top of your breast before sucking a nipple in his mouth, causing your back to arch in pleasure as you let out a loud keen. When you looked back down at him, his gaze was intense as he stared right into your eyes, hands and lips frozen as he awaited an answer.
“You’re-you’re serious,” you muttered in shock, and he nodded. “I-I think I’d say yes,” you whispered to him, a hand twisting in his hair so you could tug him up for another kiss before it came to rest on his shoulder. You could feel his grin against your lips at the answer, the points of his fangs digging into your lower lip slightly.
Seraphim dropped to his knees in front of you then, folding your skirts up and giving you a feral grin at the sight of the wet patch on your underthings. You could feel a warmth come to your cheeks then.
“You think,” he echoed, kissing up your thighs. “You don’t know?” you gasped out a moan when his fangs sank into the flesh of your inner thigh, his tongue lapping up the drops of blood that had escaped before moving to the apex of your thighs.
Before you could really process, Seraphim had ripped your underthings from your body and thrown them over his shoulder. You couldn’t even protest the loss though, as Seraphim had already dug in between your thighs, feasting directly from your slit, causing a broken moan to fall out of you.
“Sera~” you moaned his name, over and over as he inched his face up a bit, tongue feeling around your clit but coming just shy of putting direct pressure on it. “Please-”
“I don’t know,” he paused, pulling back completely and smirking up at you. You turned your head away, flustered at the sight of his smirk through your thighs. “Do you think you’d say yes, or will you marry me?” you whined as a calloused thumb rose to rest on your clit, not moving at all, just applying the tiniest amount of pressure.
“Ask me properly, then,” you were able to hiss at him, face pinched in a snarl, and he laughed.
“This doesn’t count?” he challenged, licking at your slit again, his thumb lifting from your clit leaving it throbbing and unattended. “I thought proposing was getting on your knees and asking the person you love to marry you?” your breath caught at that-the sweet words coming from his mouth not an inch from your dripping cunt.
“Yes, Seraphim, I’ll marry you,” you gasped, and he grinned, lips dragging up your cunt to latch onto your clit and suck, causing you to let out a loud keen at the sudden pleasure bursting from the bundle of nerves. “Fuck! Yes!” you moaned out, hands reaching down to tangle in his hair, which was frustratingly still in its ponytail. He didn’t seem interested in pulling away to let his hair be undone, however, instead very intently flicking at your clit with his tongue and breaching you with one finger, beginning to gently thrust it. “FUCK!” he let out a low groan when you yanked on his hair, the vibration against your clit prompting a whine from you.
He pulled his face away from your cunt for a moment, licking your juices from his lips as he thrust another finger in with a feral grin.
“ Sera~” you moaned out his name, and he nipped at your inner thigh with his sharp teeth.
“Yes, little wife?” he muttered, lips brushing against your clit. You shivered delightfully at the name.
“Will you fuck me?” you asked sweetly, and he groaned loudly, forehead dropping to your hip for a moment as his fingers curled within you.
“You’re sure you’re ready?” he asked, eyes narrowing at you. You had been known in the past to be a bit… ambitious… when taking him, and it had resulted in several instances of you crying on his lap while trying to adjust. Not that he didn’t love to see you cry in the throes of pleasure-but he found himself having to be the voice of reason in these moments. You nodded quickly, hands in his hair tugging to try and get him up.
Instead, he shoved another finger in, smirking at the half pleasure-half pain filled gasp that left you.
“Why don’t you cum for me first, little wife?” he prompted, thrusting his fingers faster as his lips returned to graze over your clit, relishing in the reflexive jerk of your thighs as they tried to close around his head.
“Ser-Sera-But I want-”
“-I want you to cum on my mouth first, little human,” he growled, the thrusts getting faster as he curled his fingers again. Your back arched at the feeling, your hips shimmying as if your body couldn’t tell if you wanted more or wanted a break. “Don’t you want to be good for me?” there it was. Your eyes glazed over as soon as the sentence left his lips, and you shimmied your hips once more before settling, determined now to be good for your demon lord.
“Yes, Sera,” you moaned, head falling back as you allowed him to continue his ministrations. His mouth left your clit as he lowered to dip it into your slit alongside his fingers, groaning at the taste. You whimpered at the dual sensation of his hard, long, rough fingers next to his malleable, flexible tongue, feeling a certain pit in your stomach growing ever closer. “Sera-you-I-”
“You’re close, yes?” he muttered, returning to your clit and giving it a nice long suck. You almost screamed at the sensation, nodding furiously. “Go on then, little wife,” he encouraged, shoving his last finger in your contracting channel, and this time you did scream, hands gripping his hair tightly and falling back against the table as you came, hips bucking against Seraphim’s face a couple times as you rode it out.
He chuckled as he stood, fingers still inside you. You were smiling dopily at him, blinking ever so slowly in a post-orgasmic haze.
“Now I’ll fuck you, my little wife,” you perked up at that, adjusting your hips and widening your legs a bit to allow him to slot between them, his hard cock resting against your cunt. Gently, one of his hands came to cup the back of your neck, lifting you from where you had fallen back so you rested against his chest, cheek flat on his peck as you gazed up at him in adoration. He couldn’t help but smile softly at the expression on your face, though at the cute little gasp you gave when his hands lowered to grab your hips and slide your cunt along his cock, the smile shifted to something more sinful.
He leaned down to kiss you, tongue shoving into your mouth to make you taste yourself, and he shuddered at the lewd moan that left you when he broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips still.
“Seraphim,” you whined, wiggling your hips as he took his sweet time, wanting him to pierce you with his cock. He tutted, kissing along your neck and jaw.
“So impatient,” he teased, and you pouted at him, widening your eyes as you stared at him as if he had physically hurt you.
“Why won’t you fuck me, Sera? Isn’t a husband supposed to-” you were cut off by your own shriek as all of a sudden Seraphim was shoving into you to the hilt, his hips resting snugly against yours. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sudden intrusion, the stretch feeling delicious but definitely still a stretch. He cooed at you condescendingly.
“Didn’t you want me to fuck you, little wife?” he asked, hips bucking a bit, though not moving further than that for the moment. “Are you having trouble taking me, hmm?” he mocked, hands taking your hips and lifting you off the table once more. A loud moan left you, gravity seeming to sink you further on his cock. “It’s alright, little one, I’ll take care of you,” he cooed, lifting you ever so slightly and letting you fall back on his cock, a cute little sob leaving you at the feeling.
“Fuck! Seraphim!” you could only moan out his name and a couple expletives-the rest of language seemed to fail you at that moment. Not that Seraphim minded, in fact his ego loved it when he fucked you stupid.
“Feel good, sweet one?” he groaned, the slapping sounds of his hips connecting to yours growing louder and more frequent as he began to fuck up into her in earnest. You nodded, and Seraphim shuddered at the glimpse of the fat tears rolling down your face he got before you were tucking your face into his strong neck..
“S-So good, Sera~” he growled, feeling the wet of your tears and perhaps some drool on his skin where her face rested.
“Yeah? My sweet little wife likes to be fucked til she’s stupid? Til she’s crying and can’t think of anything but my cock inside her?” you were nodding against his neck, a string of ‘uh-huh uh-huh’s leaving your lips. Your juices were dripping onto the floor at this point, your cunt letting out loud squelching noises at every movement of his cock in you. “FUCK!” Seraphim roared as your cunt squeezed particularly tight around him. “I’ll make you Queen of Meldoni, little one,” he began to murmur in your ear all the things he wished to do with you-to do to you. Some of it about all the riches he would give you, the kingdoms he would conquer for you, and some of it about all the ways he would debauche you, all the places he would fuck you. “Fuck you in the throne room, so all my demons can see how beautiful their queen is when she comes apart on my cock-so they can all wish they could ruin you the way I could. When we take Olympus, I’ll fuck you on Zeus’ throne, I’ll give you the gardens. I’ll prove to them I have no need for ambrosia with your sweet cunt around,” you moaned loudly, cunt clenching more around his cock at his promises.
“You-Sera! I’m so-”
“You gonna cum little one?” he groaned, his cock spearing up into your for a particularly sharp thrust. “Go ahead then, milk my cock,” he demanded, feeling his own balls tighten. “Let me fill you up, little wife-let me-”
“Yes! Sera cum in me!” you were able to gasp out before your body was seizing, a high pitched keen escaping as you came around his cock. Seraphim let out his own shout as you strangled him, prompting his own release.
“Fuck! FUCK!” he roared, staying deep in you as he emptied his load inside your cunt. “My sweet little wife,” he murmured once both of your breathing was slightly calmer, walking to the bed and laying down, still snugly lodged inside you. “I love you,”
“Love you too, Sera,” you mumbled against his chest, already falling asleep. He smiled fondly, placing a kiss in your hair before allowing himself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of your deep breathing, getting one last look at your content smile before his eyes slipped closed.
He's way too embarrassed to admit that he likes staring at your ass though.
He'll be caught and just hide away in shame.
If he's feeling bold he might comment on it
He might even slap that ass if he thinks he can get away with it.
Once he warms up to you though? oh it's game over.
He will find ways to stare, grab, and hit your ass.
Definitely will start taking you from behind so he can playfully squeeze that ass or spank you (never to hard because he'd simply die if he ever hurt you).
Antinous
Tits
He's so into them to
He's also downright possessive and he just doesn't care about space.
If another suitor gets too close, he'll grope you in front of them just to stake his claim more clearly.
He occasionally "gets distracted" or "accidentally" trips face forward into your tits
He fixates on them in the bedroom
talking, sucking, biting, fondeling, using them to get off.
He's obsessed with them.
He'll make jokes about it to.
You've caught him staring at your chest before.
If you have even the slightest bit of extra cleavage you bet you'll be screaming...
Or maybe you do it on purpose and he's the one screaming?
Eurymcahus
thighs
He's so into the thighs.
hates how long the skirts are because of that but he doesn't let it stop him.
He's shameless, completely shameless. He'll grip them, massage them, and stare at them even when others notice he just doesn't care.
He likes to put his head on them like a pillow.
You'll just be sitting down and suddenly his head is there nuzzling them.
He bites them, massages them, likes to be between them, even better if you grab a fist full of his hair.
He can't get enough of your thighs.
You need him? Pull up that fabric a little, give him a little peak he'll be between them for you.
(also..poseidon with a..er a female body part bc..uhm headcanon mayhaps.)
(uh female reader btw. Gonna make a male ver maybe if wanted later bc..I can.)
You walked along the beach in the middle of the night, sometimes it was to pleasure yourself. Like, tonight. You layed down on a rock of some sort, undoing you're dress. You began to slowly move down to you're clit. Very into the moment you didn't notice someone was approaching you, he gently cleared his throat. "Ahem..need help with that ..?" Oh gods! It was poseidon, you had met him before on a few of you're walks. "...i-..er-" poseidon stared. "Seriously? Stuttering already?" "Well it's kinda hard not too!" He smirked. "..really..? Not like that." "..y'know what else is hard.." you looked down, not realizing he literally..had nothing on his lower body. Suddenly going flushed "...fuck, why is it so-" "well..I am a god after all..~" you're breath hitched, suddenly poseidon climbed ontop of you, his cock brushing against you. "Mngh..-" "..you ready?" You nodded, as he thrusted into you. "Ah..~ fuck..faster.." "already?, eh I'm not complaining.." he slowly went faster, suddenly taking his cock out of you're entrance, because of this. You whined. "Why did you...pull outt.." "just wanted to see how long you could go..without having my dick in you." "Well clearly not long..continue..please.." you pleaded. "Oh I don't think that will help you." You stared. Suddenly pushing poseidon...(somehow) off of you, climbing ontop of him. "What are you doing..pearl..-" there was that nickname he gave you.. "you'll see.." you moved his legs, spreading them open, slowly grabbed his cock, moving your hand up and down. Poseidon was..trying not to let out any moans, grunts and such. Yea that didn't last long. "Look who's the bottom now." You spoke. Watching Poseidon's legs spread farther you noticed something. "..you have a.. hole-?" Poseidon stared. "Oh yeah..that? Uh it's..ngh- kinda like..a er..pussy hole..-?" You smirked, suddenly placing a finger inside. "W-wait pearl I barely use that thing- wai- ngh~" You added some more fingers, watching as poseidon whimpered,moaned and squirmed. "Good boyy..~" that was the word that broke poseidon as he suddenly came, moans loud. "Ngh!..fuck pearl-!" You got a idea. Slowly moving your face down to his..hole, sticking your tongue inside. He tasted..well Devine, tasting like the beach in a way. "Mngh~..might cum.." you pulled back for a moment. "Already?.." "I said it was sensitive..I barely-" you went back down to you're business, poseidon gripped at you're hair. Yep..he was close. You continued, licking,and sucking the hole. "P-p-pearl~! Ah..! Gonna- I'm gonna cum..!" He sounded adorable like this...you thought. suddenly he came all over, some getting on you. "..really?" "I couldn't..help it.." he whined, you calmly got up, laying next to him. He suddenly grabbed you placing his shaft in between you're thighs. "Hmm..?" He started to..thrust back and fourth. Gods this was adorable.. he probably wanted you to say some stuff..and so you did.
"Good boyy.."
"the sea god..fucking my thighs never thought this would happen.."
"I love you're little noises.."
"Cum for me..~"
That was the end of it, poseidon bit down on you're shoulder, shooting cum. "Ohh..cute." "shut..upmm.." he nuzzled into you're neck, both of you falling asleep.
(sorry if this was a quick fanfic, still learning how to write smut<3)
