THATA AHH!
There's no better cure for your partner's jealousy—than giving them a show, right?
— warning.ᐟ fem! reader, all boys and girls are included!, LOTS of dirty talk, mostly suggestive than smutty, dry humping, slight spanking, swearing and profanities, EXHIBITIONISM, fingering, doing it out in the open, SLIGHT possessive tendencies, praising, they love you so much, specified relationship, all of them are aged up!
— word count.ᐟ 3.6k
— a.n.ᐟ everyday is kinktober for real freaks. I recommend listening to Thata Ahh by Tyla for maximum experience ;)
Tonight was nothing special. Beach day, everyone's either swimming in the dark or drinking their hearts out (the older ones, of course), or even sharing some heartfelt and meaningful gossips about affairs and dramas in their mortal life.
You are just sitting on the wooden log, enjoying some meat skewers on your hand while Katie Gardner pronounces rapid gestures with her interpretive story. She talks about finding some pair of bikinis and a worn clothes on the edge of the river the nymphs usually reside in (you don't admit the part where it was you and your partner's doing for that whole exhibition).
The drink is light on your hands, a vodka soda with extra lime—not drowsy enough to boost you into drunken mode—but relieving enough to lighten up your mood without peaking too early. Your eyes drifts to your partner, and the campfire is an unpaid actor for making the night just perfect. Your gaze lingers together, basked in the firelight, just before a smile broke out their face. It's a mix of mischievous, scolding, and something playful, you're not quite sure. After all, you're too busy finishing off the last piece of meat before Drew Tanaka lights up another topic worth of the summer flame.
Oh yeah, the topic has suddenly gone to a hot debate of respectable and fuzzy rom-coms.
"You know that one scene on Just Go With It?"
"What? You gotta specify it, Drew." Cecil Markowitz breaks through, a slight furrow on his blushing face, "The whole movie is garbage fest."
"Hey!" Rachel Elizabeth Dare's voice is a high pitched ring that startles the fire in the middle, "Says the guy who genuinely enjoys Sixteen Candles."
"It's a classic!"
"It's disgusting!"
That goes on for five minutes straight—even more heated with additional debate members like Drew and Paolo Montes before Pollux had to settle in a fair wage. The night is still young, fireflies something flying from the woods to sea (before returning to the trees once more) and ocean splashes basically a melody to Some Apollo kid's wonderful guitar tune on the other side of the campfire (where it's less chaotic like the one you and your partner's sitting in).
That seems to be an excuse for the Dionysus' kid to open a battle of coconut dribbling. Like that scene on Just Go With It (Drew had to explain that in detail to a very appaled Malcolm Pace).
"Basically, this a competition of two couples." the Aphrodite' girl claps her hands together, bringing attention within the circle, "They are given a coconut and they have to get it between their mouth without using their hands!"
"Should we spin the bottle to mark the victims...?"
"Nope! Other side is singing acoustic." Drew giggles, like everything is a competition to her. "Then we should sing louder while tossing the coconut!" a respective groan from within the circle besides the Aphrodite girl, "When the song stops then they have to mooove their hips and win the battle!"
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Sure enough, you're the first victim without even getting involved at the debate earlier (innocent's always have to take the cost).
You take a glance at your partner, who's throwing you a supportive small smile from where they sits. It's unlucky that you're not chosen by the song to dance with them. Instead, you drift your attention to the boy next to you. A newcomer to camp, actually. Wren Madden's his call. Though it looks like he's enjoying the thrill with you from the bite of his lip.
You didn't register how your partner's enthusiasm seems forced earlier.
"One, two, three!" Drew's blaring announcement attracts attention even from the other side of the circle (which is exactly what she wanted.
"Okay, I'm not going to be charged with having to clean everybody's dishes for a week." you chuckle to your teammate, still amused yet oddly serious by this whole predicament. "Got that?"
"Aye, aye, captain." he smiles, and that dimple on his cheek appears like he's genuinely entertained by you.
Malcolm and Rachel seems to moving ahead as your opposing team. That is a cue for both of you to start wiggling the coconut from your midsection. You could feel his breath from how close you're standing next to each other. Though you don't bother with it when you're only focus is on the damned coconut.
"Go! Go! Go!" the crowd boasts off loud enough to surprise a nearby firefly. Others who weren't in the circle before even starts chiming in. But it is strange that you can hardly hear your partner's voice in the cheer.
"Let me just bring it up to you." Wren encourages, voice dripping in sweet molten honey. His body moves, rolling the coconut on your bare stomach as an effort to get it to your chest now.
"Alright, alright," you breathe out.
"Bring your coconuts down to me." he says.
"Okay, my coconuts—?" you blink up to him, not the slightest startled by his choice of words. You're all a bit lightheaded after all. He nods with a competitive smile and you nods back. "Okay, okay."
You do bring your knees slowly to the sandy ground, not quite touching but enough for the coconut to roll below your bikini top. You don't even realize you're lowered just in front of his lower abdomen. You don't even realize that your partner is now shifting uncomfortably on their seat.
"Squeeze the coconut with your chest!" wow, very helpful, Drew. Totally not embarrassing that you are now noticing Wren's gaze blanks slightly on the sight of your cleavage.
"No need to make it a spectacle, Tanaka!" you shout, frustration in your voice before the fruit glides to the valley between your chest. And you're totally not noticing how you are sat right in front of Wren's specific lower body part.
"Oh, too late for that." Drew's laughter is a sweet lemon to the ocean—infused air. She looks over to a particularly troubled lover. Whose power seems to reflect in their eyes like a storm with each time your body (especially the bare parts) with Wren's taut abs.
"Sorry about this." your teammate chuckles breathlessly, totally not focused on the way your chest wiggles against one another when coconut arrives to your collarbone.
"Really?" you laugh dryly, "You're sorry for this?"
"Not really." he smiles, the kind that makes your partner bolts upright from their sit, "I like it, like this." Wren's gaze is burning, you're not sure if he's even focusing on the coconut anymore, "Like you."
Their face is heated up, definitely from the liquor flowing through their throat. Because it's not just their cheeks, but their eyes are burning. Even the fireplace in the circle dances lower as if it finally meets someone with determination that peaks brighter. "I'll switch with Wren." they announces, which earns a couple of gasp from the crowd. Even Malcolm and Rachel stops in their wiggling.
"That's against the rules—"
"I don't care about your opinion." their figure turns to Drew, who's looking at your partner with a gaze that could rival Mr. D's look when he's meet with a troublesome demigod.
Your partner's element seeps through, you could know it by the dark glare on their face—just before they shrug, a low laugh out of their throat, "I think Just Go With It is pretty trash too."
That wins the vote to swap Wren with your partner, who's staring at the newcomer with unblinking gaze. Like the boy had offended their whole bloodline by being your teammate from the first place.
"Easy there, tiger." Wren raises both of his hands in surrender, taking a step aside while your partner moves forward to you.
"You're not gonna last a week in here." they say, and if a smile could cut through fire—it'll be theirs.
"Oooh, I smell jealousy here!" Drew claps her hands excitedly, like this is all just an episode of a rom-com series to her.
"Maybe I'll give you a show while you're praying to the gods, Madden." their smile widens, peeking a flash of their grin without even glancing a spare to Drew. Who in question gasps like this is all planned by her.
"For what?" Wren frowns.
"You'd pray to be me, of course." they shrug casually.
"Hey," you mumble, pupils glancing left and right as if trying to decipher their emotions when they finally stands in front of you. "You okay, baby?"
They don't answer, at least not right away. Taking opportunity of the pause to slips their warm palms to your hips. Brushing their thumb against the waistband of your short pants. A hum slips out of their throat, just before their face inches closer to you. Their voice's a low murmur to your earlobe that could've made you weak in the knees if it weren't for them holding you by the hips, "Was that idiot worth your laugh?"
Your breath hitch then, locking eye contact with your partner's—who seems to have their pupils dilating each second you savor on eye fucking each other.
You swallows a lump.
"No answer?" a brow raises from above their sight, "Alright then." his pupils darts below, mouth's parting slightly when their attention shifts to the coconut between your midriff.
"One, two, three, go!" Drew exclaims.
The hands around your hips now slides up to your bare waist. Caressing the sultry skin for a moment as if you wouldn't caught their gesture. You both move against each other, the coconut gliding upwards to your chest once more when guides you to bend down. Their palms squeezing as if to give encouragement before you complies. Lowering yourself just before your focus darts to the sight in front of you.
Oh.
Oh.
There are leaks imprinted behind the fabric of their pants, particularly on their intimate part.
"Baby—"
"Come on," they breathe out, tongue dragging out to lick against their upper lip. And when your attention is utterly distracted by the slide of his tongue—their gaze is wholly entranced with the sight of you down below. Eyes glazing, red tint on your cheeks, the slow part of your own tender lips, and last but not least, your enticing cleavage in which they could notice everything from above.
They also notice that the position is a reminiscent of your moment. A moment where they have you on your knees, your mouth working eagerly on their twitching intimacy. Their fangs drafts out then, digging into their bottom lip.
"I know you can do better than this." their hands slides to the strap of your bikini, lightly brushing the underside of your breast. Enough to tease you, but not enough to get noticed by the crowd. "You didn't spent all that time on your knees not to learn a thing or two."
Fuck.
The coconut successfully sits between your mounds, and you slowly rises up—not expecting another attack of their revenge when they swirl the tongue on the tip of your earlobe, "That's it, just like that." you could feel every blood in your veins rushes down below, particularly to the pulsing beat of your heat. And it'll be an embarrassment if they have you dripping your pussy out in open like this.
"He's not handling you right enough." their low voice is a hushed whisper to your impending doom. Just before a shake of chuckle flows out of their mouth, "I bet he can't even handle you when you move your hips," their fingers are playing against your shorts, snapping the waistband which ignites a shudder down to the need between your legs, "When you ride me just... perfect."
"Don't you agree, baby?" They smile, a teasing one.
The ball of fruit has moved to the crone of your shoulder, and they move even closer. Brushing your chests together while their nose presses slightly to your neck. "Is that new perfume?" their hand tightens around your waist, lightly digging moon crescents that jolts you out of your heady state, "Anyone you got in mind when you wear it?"
"Yeah," you gasps, low enough not to be heard by the crowds, "Just for you."
"Really?" They muses, lips curling into a glint of grin before he bites softly on the lobe of your ear, "Prove it." The coconut moves too obediently, and in a matter of seconds? You're both winning the wretched game.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" a drum rolls out in the circle, an actual one brought by one of the Apollo kids, "We have a winner!" Drew squeals through, bright laughter filling in the space while the opposing team sulks at the thought of the punishment.
In the midst of the celebration (and preparation for another one), their hand glides to your lower back. Calloused and drawing a light circle before they mumble to your ear once more. "And I mean now." the palm suddenly slides to your bottom, squeezing the cheek before giving it a small slap. Unnoticeable since the crowd is loud enough to mask you both in darkness. "Prove it to me now, pretty girl."
Your wetness drips down your legs now, moving past your pants—and you're praying to every gods that the crowd is too focused on Cecil's sudden excitement to notice your shameful arousal as clear as the moon.
Their gaze drifts like the ocean wave when it crashes into a broken rock. Finding Wren's disbelieved one, and when he glares? Your partner grins, mouthing a soundless message, "Mine."
— LEO VALDEZ, Percy Jackson, Lityerses, LUKE CASTELLAN, Connor Stoll, Thalia Grace, Piper McLean.
A blush creeps up on their face, darkening even deeper when all eyes lands on their bold stance. But they cleared a hard lump from their throat, just before locking eyes with Drew's narrowing sight. Storm still clouds behind their lessening pupils, the fireplace giving the perfect lighting to accentuate their features, "I'll do the punishment."
"Excuse me?" Drew gasps out, more dramatic than it should be.
"I'll do the fucking dishes." your partner's earlier stumble shifts as quick as an ocean that washes the shore. A tie knits their brow together, lips pressed into a thin line before you noticed how their eyes seem to darken, "If you switch her with someone else." their gaze slides to you, and the previous tempest softens into a tender one."
"That's not how it works—"
"I'll even sweep the goddamned floor of your cabin." their voice cuts through the air into sharp pieces, equipping both surprise and suspense in the situation.
Drew hums, tapping a finger against her thigh before she tilts her head. Watching your partner's glare more carefully before she lifts her shoulders, "Alright, mood killer." she rolls her eyes. "Let's just toss the coconut again and find someone's who isn't going to be a jealous freak."
Wren moves through the buzzing crowd, though no protests are heard from their mouth. They know their place well enough to not gossip on someone as powerful as your partner. "Hey buddy," he calls out, stopping just in front of them, "What's that for? Everything good between us?"
They halt their step, eyes not narrowing—but pupils lessening at the sight of Wren Madden. Their finger taps against their side, allowing a small pause to flow in before replying, "As peachy as your attention on my girl, Madden." their lips curves into a smile in contrast with the fireplace.
"Woah, I didn't know she was yours." Wren raises his hands up high in a surrender gesture, though the furrow on his face seems to be telling a different gesture.
"Maybe you should get your eyes checked," your partner crosses their arms together, "Would do someone as trash as you a good measure."
"Hey," you step in through your partner's side, sparing a glance to Wren before taking a hold of their hand, "Let's just get out of here, m'kay?"
Their chest is constricted at first, before releasing a breath they've been holding since that newcomer first touched you (it's like a nightmare for them). They squeeze you hand which intertwined with them, a reminder that he's just protective of you and is willing to put up with any of your games—even as one like that coconut battle.
"Quite the bodyguard you have," Wren calls out to you instead, voice laced in faux humor, "I wonder how they'll even make you come with all that sulk."
"Say that again?" their voice is tight like a string that's about to rip, head turning to share that widened look to Wren.
"Baby, let's just—"
"No," they give one last squeeze to your intertwined hands, just before letting it go, "I want to hear it right in front of my face." it's not a glare that sits on your partner's face, it's downright disgusted now. Elements of their ability seeps through their well builded walls, crackling between their twitching forefingers.
Wren pauses, slipping both of his hands in his pocket before taking a step forward. It's a good thing that Drew and the crowd is too engrossed with the coconut battle on the side to drool at their electrifying rivalry.
"I said, you're a loser fucker." he shrugs, like your partner isn't seconds away from calling their parent's power to strike a curse at them, "I bet you can't make her come five times. Not with all of this possessive dog act."
Hold on—did you just successfully light up a Challengers trope between the newcomer and your partner?
And why are you curious to see who'd win?
"Says the fucker who can't even touch her properly." your partner closes in, their element apparent like a coil about to snap in their gaze, "You don't know the first thing to make her moan, not when a nobody like you talks about her like an object." because if there's anything else your partner's clenches their jaw for besides their jealousy? Is the fact that this burden of a camp just disrespected your whole perfect existence.
"Low blow, man—low blow–"
"I'd suggest you blow someone else's dick to save your face." your partner doesn't smile, not even a crack as a vein pops out of their forehead, "You're out of this camp if you ever talk to her—no—if you ever look at her in the wrong way."
"Is that all—"
"Maybe I'll send a minotaur to rip your throat." they finalizes, just before you finally tug at their hand—because woah—even you didn't expect that your lover would threaten death on that boy. Who's gritting his teeth and walking away with a stomp.
The air is not one bit harsh or freezing, not when their arms are clinging around your waist. The moon is standing low, near the ocean's horizon as you pat an assurance to your partner's head. In this space where nobody's around, they don't waste time to bring you into their lap—burying their face in the crook of your neck.
"He doesn't deserve you." they spout breathlessly, and you could feel their fangs brushing against the fragile skin of your neck. "No one deserves you, heck—I don't think I do."
"Hey," you turn your figure slightly, just so you can cup their cheeks in your hands. And stare at that stormy eyes you love so much, "You can make me come five times. Remember that one time at the springs?"
"No," they bat their lashes at you, "You came eight times there." a chuckle left their mouth, which turns into a light laugh when you presses a kiss to their forehead, "But if we include the squirts—then it's ten times." a playful smile curls on their lips, their arms squeezing around your waist.
"Oh, now you're teasing me!" you gasp.
"Can't help it when you're all mine." the laughter of their mouth heightens, just enough to make their eyes smile and oozes you with that sweet feeling. The feeling of being in their arms, knowing only both of you can make each other writhe in pleasure. Which exactly what the moment escalates to.
The air definitely hot now, not just because of their biceps in taut around your waist—but because of the clear arousal of your pussy while you ride their thigh. Your panties are thrown to the sand, bare folds rubbing and thumping on their thigh. Their head is thrown back, face as red as a crab's shell while you chase your own high.
"Gods," their hands slides to your hips now, guiding you to bounce up and down their thigh. And it's taking every vein of restraint to not bend you down over the chair and fuck you from behind.
"Wanna come—" you mewled out, eyes shut tight when your pre-come drips down like a hot glue. Making both of your bodies all sticky in sweat and saliva (they kissed all over your skin just before grinding up and down). "So, so good—mmh—!"
"Don't worry," your partner chuckles, something a mix of heady and drunken while they watches your pussy squelch with each bounce. Out of instinct, their hand slips to the wetness between your legs, pressing a middle finger on your clit—and when you gasp? They decided it's a good time to pinch it, just before slathering their finger into your eager hole.
"Just say how many times you want to come," they nibble on your earlobe, and you can't do nothing but dig nails into their shoulder when your pussy cries beneath you, "And I'll multiply it by two."
You just hope that no one's passing in this area of the beach (though with every drive of their fingers, it seems they're determined to get both of you caught).
— JASON GRACE, Ethan Nakamura, FRANK ZHANG, Travis Stoll, Will Solace, Annabeth Chase.
