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kpopnstarwars · 26 days

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Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

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yanderenightmare · 3 months

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TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omegaverse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey

gn reader

Thinking about being a pretty little bunny caught in the claws of two big bad wolves…

They both cram themselves inside the same hole – fucking you rhythmically alongside each other with your smaller body pressed between theirs.

Sharp claws dent your flesh while canines fully split it open – imprinting on your fragile skin unforgivingly deep – leaving it to bruise and gush with blood the moment they spill the last of their big weighty balls inside you – both at the same time.

And after knots unknot and stiff thickness deflate – turning soft before slumping out of your abused hole – you’re finally allowed to rest in a mixture of bitter-sweet relief.

Gratefully accepting their long-awaited finish – you slump against the sweaty chest before you with the face of your cheek smushed tight against the soothing warmth – hole fluttering numbly around nothing with the ticklish feeling of hot cum slowly trickling out only to go cold in the air.

Their sounds turn soft with a loss of growls and sharp teeth, and the one behind you places a kiss on your cheek, telling you that he’s proud – his breaths heavy and damp against your skin while he rests his sweaty forehead and slick mane softly against you.

Both of them hug you gently – pressed tight between them – and slowly work on retrieving some semblance worth of strength while caught in the hefty crash of rapture – bodies ablaze yet steadily cooling with hearts halting in their sporadic run – dying down into slow thuds, draining until they’re both just two heaps of unwound muscles.

A couple of minutes more just like that and one of them leaves you with a groan while other begins lazily kissing and licking you in aftercare – his warm tongue laving gently over the brutal lovebites they’ve left on your otherwise pretty skin – whispering soothingly that he only wants to clean them up, so you don’t catch any unwanted infections.

But his efforts of comfort don’t really help you keep from trembling or whimpering, nor do they help ease your erratic breath – where you sit between his legs, held tightly to his chest with both his thick arms wrapped effortlessly snug around your much smaller waist.

He's in charge of getting you cleaned up and dressed while his partner preps dinner – you hear the wolf downstairs with pots and pans while the one he’d left you with pulls you into a white babydoll – helping you stand where you wobble with hips aching upon every little move.

He tells you that you're the cutest, making you yelp when squeezing your cottontail before picking you up like a wounded animal – as though you're incapable of making it down the stairs alone.

The stench of dead animals oozing from the kitchen makes you queasy more than hungry – but your captors, on the other hand, easily work up an appetite with the taste of your blood still fresh on their teeth.

The thunderous sound of their stomach rumbling is all too much to keep you from crying – despite the warning you’d received the last time you’d created too much of a fuss for them – when one of them had forced bits of meat down your throat, making you chew and swallow it all one torturous bite at a time until you’d finally learned your lesson, willingly opening your mouth for him despite flinching and crying at the unnatural stomach-twisting taste.

He'd seemed somewhat sorry seeing you throw up for days from both disgust and indigestion – and had since tried making up for it by preparing proper meals catered to your diet.

You were happy to see the medley of leafy greens and baby carrots plated for you on the dinner table, averting your eyes from the massive medium rare steaks the two dogs loudly and hungrily started cutting into – lop ears flinching upon the clash of sharp knives crashing hungrily against ceramics – trying to withhold the whimper when seeing the mixture of blood and grease roll down their chins along with the unsightly view of their sharp teeth tearing through tendons as effortlessly as if it were nothing but the same grass on your plate.

Fruit for dessert is nearly enough to lift the nausea while the three of you snuggle on the couch after dinner. Or perhaps you’d just gotten used to it – they always get lazy after eating after all – and cuddly.

You lie on top of one of them, your back against his broad chest – lifting with the rise and fall of his beaths. The other lies on top of you again, on his belly. He tells you to scratch his ears, and you don’t dare refuse him.

He moans when you rub on the tip between your small fingers – resting his head atop your heart before starting to drool, small growls ever-present in his snores. His tail lifts and slowly starts wagging in drowsiness as he gives the inside of your ear a ticklish lick – making you cringe and whine.

The one beneath you rests his chin atop your head, chuckling at the two of you – and you really wish you could get used to how the growl in their chests rock your ribs and how their mouths reek of death. Desperately, you try to focus on the smell of bleach and flowers – the ones they’ve bought and brought home to you when trying to distract you from the grocery bags held behind them – chock-full of bloody bits they stock the meat locker with.

That would be your worst nightmare, you unwillingly think, shuddering at the thought as if consumes you – to be locked up in that room – you’re only glad they’ve yet to think of it as a punishment.

Sometimes you wonder if they’re planning to eat you at some point. You’re certain they understand they can’t successfully breed with you – so it wouldn’t make sense for them to keep you forever, even though they swear to it when you sleep squished between their bodies in the middle of the bed with their massive paws and sturdy claws latched onto your supple flesh.

It's impossible for you to ignore what they are when the whole den has hints of rot lingering in the air, and you don’t think you’ll ever be able to let go of the fear. But at the same time… you can’t really deny their love entirely either – not when they rub their snouts into your neck so lovingly, cuddling you tight as though protecting you from any harm, grooming you with their own tongues ticklish against your skin and fur, thoroughly leaving their print and scent on you, fully claiming you as theirs.

BNHA – BakuDeku, TodoBaku, KiriBaku, EndMight, EndHawks, DabiHawks, ShigaDabi

JJK – SatoSugu, Toji x Shiu

HQ – Miya twins

DS – DouAka

HxH – HisoIllu

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jjk smut #bnha smut #yandere bnha #mha smut #my hero smut

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aliceinborderlandscrolls · 1 year

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How To Make A Cheshire Blush

Chishiya Shuntarō x reader

You make it your goal to see Chishiya blush

Fluff - Suggestive

I have known Chishiya Shuntarō for a little over eight months since entering the borderland. In that time I have never seen him flustered… Ever.

How is that even possible? What man could be so calm and collected that nothing makes his cheeks flush the color of strawberries? Not even when facing death does his calmness fade…

I glanced over at Chishiya who was watched the group we teamed up with mild amusement as they betrayed each other one by one. How can they all be so foolish? If only they would put their fears aside and trust one another. Maybe then we could all make it out alive and find out who the Jack of Hearts really is. This entire game was so tiresome. I sighed loudly, earning a glance from Choshiya before he returned his gaze to a man sweating profusely as he told another player their suit.

“We’ve been here for days and it’s so…” I folded my arms on the table, “Boring.” I sighed again as my shoulders slumped.

“Find something to do.” Chishiya had zero interest in my boredom and did nothing to try and entertain me.

It wasn’t his problem nor benefit him, so why should he care?

My attention found its way to the pair, Aba and Kotoko. It seemed that they have been attached to the hip quite literally since the start of the game. Studying them closely, they reminded me of a business looking man and his personal assistant.

I chuckled at the thought of all the drama and scandal they might have caused in the old world, especially if he was high up there. I watched as Kotoko pressed herself even more into Aba’s side while he looked as if he held all the power. For a moment I wondered what it would be like to be just like her. To be someone who didn’t rely solely on herself.

I suppose in a way I have some trust to Chishiya, I considered him my friend. He did treat me as a friend though. I also considered Kuina a friend and I knew she thought the same about me. My mind briefly drifted to her and I hoped that she was doing okay, alive somewhere right now.

My thoughts drifted back to Chishiya. He was cool and highly intelligent, not to mention drop dead gorgeous, but something I wonder if he would sacrifice me for his gain.

“I wonder what that feels like.” I muttered as I placed my chin in the palm of my hand.

“What?” Chishiya took a bite from his own bag of cookies as his attention flicked over to where I was looking, “To be a self righteous prick?”

“No.” I shook my head leaning on my chin, “To rely so heavily on someone to protect you that you don’t learn how to protect yourself.”

“You wouldn’t make it very far with that mentality.” Chishiya muttered, “Luckily, you’re too smart for that.”

I grinned at the small compliment from the Cheshire man. It was rare to hear praise from him even if it was usually mixed with mockery. It was in that moment that my innocent grin turned sly as I thought of the perfect thing that could keep my boredom at bay.

His brows furrowed at my smile, “Quit looking at me like that, it’s weird.”

“What if the only person I knew to keep me safe was you?” My grin turned into a smirk.

“But it isn’t?” His answer came out more of a question as he tried to figure out my plan.

“But what if?” I leaned my weight onto his side, wrapping my arms around one of his, “Would you take advantage of my undying loyalty, Shuntarō?” I could see a blush coat his cheeks and I couldn’t help, but laugh, “Of course you would, you sneaky cat.”

He nudged me off him with a grunt. I leaned closer to make sure I was seeing this right… The Chishiya Shuntarō was in fact, blushing.

“Oh my stars.” I gasped in amusement as I pressed a hand to my heart, “Is that a blush I see, Chishi?”

I did it! I thought as excitement built up inside me. I made him blush!

“No.” He looked away from me.

“I think it is.” I poked his cheek, giggling as I sat back.

My giggling died down as I looked at him. He didn’t say anything, but he seemed flustered. Is it possible that he held some kind of feelings for me?

“Chishi.” I smiled when he looked at me, “You want some?” I held up my strawberry cake roll.

He eyed me and it suspiciously before he gave a simple nod. I opened the package, breaking off a piece for him to try. I shook my head as he reached for it as I brought it up to his lips. He opened his mouth slowly as he took a bite.

“So would that make you a self righteous prick?” I teased quietly as I fed the cake to him.

He rolled his eyes and he leaned back, taking time to chew and see if he liked the cake.

“Way too much strawberry.” He mumbled after he swallowed, but continued to eat the next piece I gave him.

He returned the gesture with his own bag of cookies as we munched on the others snacks.

“I am an asshole.” He spoke without hesitation, “I am not kind. I am manipulative and I do what I must to get ahead. I don’t care about anything so why are you always hanging around me?”

“You are those things, but I think you’re wrong about how you see yourself Chishiya. You are so much more than that. You are kind, to Kuina and to me. You are manipulative, but that just means how intelligent you are in understanding everything. You can solve the hardest puzzle on earth with just a glance. You say you don’t care, but deep down I know that you do. You have just built a wall that is worth climbing because you mean more than anything in the world to me.” I answered softly.

He wasn’t able to respond as the speaker dinged.

“I believe it’s almost time.” I sighed as I looked up at the clock.

My attention turned to Kotoko who grabbed a packet of cookies… The same brand that Matsushita grabbed a few minutes ago.

“Hm…” I hummed watching what would be a meaningless passerby between the two, “Maybe I do have more undying loyalty than Kotoko.”

“Seems so.” Chishiya smirked.

I turned in my seat, brushing my hair away from my collar.

“Heart.” He said and turned so that I could tell him his suit.

“Diamond.” I repeated the symbol I saw.

“Fits us well.” He muttered standing up to begin our journey to our cells.

“Aw does that mean I have your heart Chishi?” I stepped up to him teasingly.

“You have my headache.” He stated before walking into his cell.

I entered the one beside him with a warm feeling creeping in my chest. I think it’s the other way around, I think you have my heart Shuntarō.

“Heart.” I spoke my final answer as I waited to leave the cell.

#alice in borderland #aib #alice in boderland x reader #aib headcanons #aib spoilers #aib season 2 #aib x reader #chishiya fic #chishiya imagine #chishiya shuntaro #chishiya headcanons #aib chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya x reader #chishiya fluff #aib s2 #aib x you #aib imagines #aib fanfic

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bet-on-me-13 · 10 months

Text

Stranded Danny AU

Danny gets pulled into a faraway Dimension by a Villain one day, just after the events of Phantom Planet. He is barely 15.

He has no way to get back, but he does manage to unlock the power to make Portals. Unfortunately, none of the dimensions he ends up in are his own, and none have enough Ectoplasm to open portals for very long. It takes up to a week to scrounge up enough Ecto to open a single Portal into the next dimension over.

And none of these worlds have Technology strong enough to take him home either. The few times he did find some tech that could potentially get him home, it never worked or it was destroyed before he could finish it.

He spends well over 30 years of his own Personal Timeline trying to get back to his home dimension, constantly gathering scraps of Ectoplasm and Tech until the day he eventually collected enough to build a safe way home.

But time does not pass the same across dimensions.

What to him was a 30 year long Journey, was actually just 10 for his home Dimension.

And they had to move on without him.

Sam became a Business Woman who used her money to fund Nature Preservation Organizations. She hired Pamela Isley and helped her through her powers when she became Poison Ivy (still a Villain, but secretly working for Sam)

Tucker got a high ranking job at Star Labs, and helped Cyborg come to terms with his new life when he became a cyborg. He even helped upgrade his tech a few times.

Jazz became a successful Psychiatrist, and now works under Daina Lance as one of the Justice League's top Therapists, specifically their Child Psychologist for young Heroes

Ellie took his place as a Hero and became the new protector of Amity after he dissappear. After the Justice League was formed, she joined them and became one of their best members, always working and nor really taking many breaks.

They always wondered what happened to Danny, and spent many years trying to figure out what happened to him, but never succeeded. They finally began to assume that he was fully dead after a few years of searching. They had enough time to come to terms with it.

...

So one night, while a 22 yr old Ellie is resting on one of her rare days off, she gets called in by the League about a possible Dimensional Breach near her Home Town. JLD was deployed to investigate, and she was asked to tag along since she was the Resident Hero of the area.

But she refuses, thinking it's just some random ghost trying to enter the Living Realm illegally after she began regulating the Portal. JLD would be able to handle it on their own, let her sleep on her day off!

Meanwhile, JLD has located the spot where the Dimensional Breach is about to appear. They surround the Area, and prepare to interrogate whoever is about to appear, or deal with them if need be.

Space begins to tear apart as the fabric of Reality breaks apart at the seams. And from that wound in existence, an Adult Danny steps out. He is 44 years old, and looks like a less buff version of Dan without the mustache (basically imagine Danny as Ford Pines from Gravity Falls)

The JLD can sense that he is strong, but not too much so. It feels like he is powerful, but like that power has been starved for a while.

"Who are you?" Asks Wonderwoman, ready to jump into battle if needed. "What are your intentions in this World?"

Danny ignores them. He is staring into the Night Sky, eyes wide. The Constellations he hadn't seen in 30 years were there. The stars were in the right locations. He takes a deep breath, tasting the amount of Ectoplasm in thr Air. This is it. He's home. He's finally home.

"Finally" He says breathlessly. A slightly manic Grin on his face.

"What the hell does that mean?" Demands Constantine. The grin had unsettled him, and he began preparing a few spells just to be sure.

Danny ignored him again, this time deciding to close his eyes and finally eat his fill of Ectoplasm for the first time in 30 years. He was ravenous, this was the first decent Meal of Ectoplasm he had been able to have in 30 years. He was giddy, he was so happy to finally be home.

However the Heroes didn't know what was happening. All they knew was that some guy had ripped a hole in reality, said "finally" with a crazy grin on his face, and started emitting a dangerous amount of Death Energy for no apparent reason.

Constantine reacts on impulse, trying to cast a Banishing Spell on this guy.

Danny, feeling the spell begin to pull him away from his home after he had just found it again after Thirty. Fucking. Years. Does something that he would consider reasonable.

He quickly dashes over to Constantine and slams him through a tree.

This sparks a fight between Danny and the JLD. And at first he is having some serious trouble, but as he continues to feed on Ectoplasm and recover his strength, he becomes progressively more Powerful. It comes to the point where the JLD can't keep up anymore, and call in Backup.

Ellie was enjoying her night off, but the desperate Call from JLD about a powerful Entity at the edge of Amity finally got her going.

She rushes over and slams into Danny just as he is about to attack Constantine again. Neither of them recognize eachother, since they have changed since they were kids (Danny moreso) and continue to Duke it out.

Ellie is trying to banter with him, but Danny is really angry at this point. So he resorts to his final attack, his Ghostly Wail.

He levels a good chuck of the Forest, and in the end he is standing over Ellie as his anger fades. He says "Sorry" and he starts taking a look around him to see if there is anybody else.

Ellie is on the ground, shaken because she recognized that power.

She gets up, and asks "Danny?"

Danny finally gets a good look at her and says, and says "Ellie?"

Meanwhile JLD still has ringing in their ears and thinks that Ellie just called Danny "Daddy"

(Which makes sense because of the new age difference)

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Danny phantom #Dc #Dcu #ellie phantom #Danielle Phantom #Planes walker Danny #Danny is stranded on the other side of the Multiverse #He can't open a Portal to the Infinite Realms #Danny has not had a decent amount of Ectoplasm in 20 years #Aged up Characters #Angst #Justice League Dark #The Justice League #Dimension Travel #Danny traverses the multitude like Ford Pines

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mooishbeam · 8 months

Text

『♡』 Rises the Moon

♡ featuring: dan heng IL x f!reader

♡ summary: you help dan heng work through his heat cycle wc: 3.1k+

♡ cw/tw: canon-divergent, breeding, praise, kinda sad but wholesome, monster-fucking, heat cycle, blowjob, cunnilingus, mentions of blood, biting

notes: super canon divergent ik vidyadhara can't have kids but ahhh dan heng breed brainrot :P ruahh I need that lc

Cracked from a shimmering pearl into the cold deception of a ship no longer home, that damned his ill-fated legacy. A lonely forgone dragon wanders a lifetime in purgatory, searching for hands to follow, for he was reborn into the dead silence of solitude. He stretched his inhuman heart as far as it could reach, enough for anyone to hold. But it twisted and tangled in thorns, cradled by serpents' eyes that prayed for his ruin. In brief moments of rest, his visions were suffocated with catastrophic destruction unbeknownst to the reincarnate. When he was eventually released, no one turned for him; a trail of fire he would have to walk alone, bleeding for repentance until his sin was permanently consumed by the collapsing universe.

A race cursed to live forever rarely knew joy or love to its full extent, as all things mortal would return to the ground beneath them. It wasn’t worth the attachment, nor the deserved doom of a man denied salvation.

Your arrival at the space station upturned his perception. He wasn’t sure why he yearned to be near you, why his senses craved your smell and sight. He had to distance himself from you as much as possible, but the melody of your pure voice stored a rhythm in his core that could not be removed. He lamented the blooming affection in his discernment. Often lying awake at night, struggling to satiate the urges.

To you, he was Dan Heng. The solemn, headstrong friend that seldom spoke in your presence. Your favorite pastime was playful banter; he rarely smiled, but it pulled at your heartstrings when the corners of his lips slightly lifted. When he picked at his food, you went out of your way to find out what he preferred and arranged your meals around his. You spent almost all of your time on the parlor car. That isn’t to say you weren’t interested in adventuring, you frequently noted the prettiest gems March showed you during their trips. You asked Dan about the stuff he enjoyed, but it’d usually amount to “I was too focused on staying alive to take in the scenery.” You recall entering your room after their return and noticed an iron scrap flower sitting on your windowsill. Dan nonchalantly admitted to the act, mentioning how he overheard your liking for metallic constructs. You originally thought this was simply an extension of your friendship, but the burning ache in your body spoke otherwise. The little things he did, such as bringing small gifts or ingredients for you to experiment with made you seek that numbed heart, imprisoned in ice.

Himeko joked about your sour mood whenever Dan Heng was gone. You read while she stared at you, amused by the pout on your face. “Hmm, your boy toy is missing. Feeling down?” Your head shot up, ears hot from the assumption.

“W-what? No, of course not. We’re friends, Himeko.” you panicked. She softly giggled.

“Don’t worry. They’re coming back soon.” You peeked up from the pages.

“...When?” you mumbled. “A few days. Now you can stop being so sad.”

You were ecstatic when they arrived, ready to hear about their grueling journey, and more so happy to see Dan Heng. As March relived her storytelling, you observed him. He seemed to be in a trance. His expression was the same as always, but he felt disconnected from you, like he discerned a grim future. He didn’t come to dinner and went to sleep. When you asked March if something happened, she shifted uncomfortably but finally spoke.

“Dan Heng...he changed on the Xianzhou Luofu.” She’d conveniently left out most of the story.

“What do you mean ‘changed’?” you questioned, finding it hard to mask your worries. “He had horns and... It was all really new. I kinda wanna forget about it, too.” You didn’t pressure her for more information, and she went to her room shortly after. You tossed in your sleep, wondering what he must’ve gone through, and what you could do to help him.

You awoke in an inky blue void, the stars cascading a brilliant aura across the night. There were no other planets visible; only the vast moon, a divinely warm glow, alluring and protective in your gaze. Heavenly bodies carried infinitely above, shaping the moon in its godlike image. You stood in a comparatively small pool of iridescent liquid that waterfalled off each side. It marbled from refracted shimmers, cool to the touch. Somehow life emerged in the barren quiet, white lotus’ decorating most of the area. They never spilled down the stream, as if they'd been waiting. In said pool, was a man with elvish ears and gleaming horns, kneeling turned away from you. His pale arms were shackled behind him, and his delicate hair cascaded down his naked back. If you listened closely, you could hear the faint sobs he tried to stifle. You wanted to comfort him, to calm his nerves. You took a step, and he stopped. He didn’t acknowledge you. You took another step, your hand wishing to touch him. Before you could, you phased out of your dream.

For the next two weeks, he didn’t leave his room. Not when you were around. At the same time, this reoccurring dream was plaguing your thoughts. It ended the same way each time. March aimed to console you, but you felt she knew more than she led on. Fatigued from your restless mind, you decide to talk to Himeko instead. She stirs her drink while Welt reads the paper.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” said Welt.

“Good...morning.” you yawned, rubbing your worsening eyebags.

“You don’t seem okay. Is everything alright?” Himeko asks, motioning for you to sit beside her.

“Something is wrong with Dan Heng and March isn’t telling me everything. I was hoping you would.” Welt clears his throat, sets the paper on the table and walks away. Himeko puts her hand on your knee.

“He’s feeling unwell right now. It’s best we don’t disturb him.”

“I’ve been having this weird dream, of a guy with horns. He’s crying. And I can’t save him. What does this mean? Why is everyone keeping this from me?” Alarm flashes in her expression, but she composes herself. She sucks in a deep breath. “Do you know what a Vidyadhara is?”

“No.”

“Vidyadhara descended from dragons, and they’re very powerful. Dan Heng is a special case of Vidyadhara, so we must treat him as such.”

“So why can’t I see him?”

“It’s important that we avoid him while he’s in the process of...getting through this.”

“But someone has to check on him, right? I could be the one to do it-”

“(Y/N). Dan Heng requested specifically, that I don’t allow you to see him.” You felt your heart pierce. You believed you were friends with him, so why was he forcing you away? “Oh. Okay.” you said meekly. You went back to your room to contemplate.

You were a ghost throughout the day, serving food in silence. When the crew went to bed you prepared a hearty soup to soothe whatever illness he had. He’d probably reject it, but the selfish side wanted to know why he was upset with you. Even if he didn’t have an answer, perhaps his voice would be adequate. Arriving at his door, you knock twice gently.

“I have some soup for you. Himeko said you were feeling ill. I won’t disrupt you, just want to make sure you’re eating.” He said nothing. “If you’re not hungry, let me know and I can store it for tomorrow. You can’t get better on an empty stomach.” You hear rustling inside, but he still said nothing.

“Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry if I did.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, but I need you to go away.” His voice is feeble, and it scares you.

“Can I please leave this on your desk? I’ll go away right after, I promise.” You 're practically begging, but you need to see him and know he’s okay. Dan Heng’s weakening mindset rationalizes his risky judgement, and he allows you to come in. He should be able to defend you from himself with the strength he has left; there’s no other choice. “Okay.”

When you open the door, you’re horrified at the state. Books and precious documents were strewn across the floor or shredded, along with most of the blankets. He’s hunched over on the futon clenching his abdomen, strands of hair sticking to his shiny forehead and puffy lips. He was in a form you've never seen, dressed in elegance in contrast to his shaking figure. The clothes were disheveled, however, the window on his top ripped down the middle, exposing the muscular torso underneath with his pants pulled just under his v-line. He's flushed and sweating, a look in his eyes that both terrifies and excites you. What was most shocking were the pointy ears and horns protruding from his head. The same ones from your dream. He tracks you as you walk to his desk. He’s undoubtedly weak, and yet you feel hunted. You set the soup down.

“Shouldn’t you ask Bailu about this?”

“I did already. There’s nothing she can do. I have to wait.” You get on your knees next to him, and he recoils from your proximity.

“Wait for what?”

“I'm hot all over, all the time. Nothing I do works, even when I feel good it’s not enough.” he rasps. His eyes are shut in an attempt to null the intense sensation blazing in his veins. You ultimately realize what he means and regret your cluelessness. Still, you don’t leave, deconstructing his resolve. Suddenly, Dan Heng feels the tender press of your palm to his forehead; the touch of someone he could recognize in different timelines and different bodies. The scent of morning dew at early sunrise, the light in its darkness, bitter and sweet and persistent. He punished the thought of ravaging you, but the incessant thump of his member was staggering. He grabs your wrist tight, a guilty look in his eyes.

“I can’t control myself. Go. Now” he shouts. His anger doesn’t scare you, and your other hand caresses his cheek.

“Does it hurt? I can help you.” Dan Heng’s frozen as your fingers travel down his Adam's apple, then his chest, to the hem of his bottoms. He’s on his back taking deep labored breaths, the print growing from your airy brushes.

“I don’t want you to be in pain anymore.”

You spring his cock free, and it bounces into your hand. It’s thick and almost twelve inches, a rosy-brown gradient to the mushroom tip. His veins dance around the rounded spikes lining up his shaft on both sides. A frustrated sigh leaves him, beads of pre come dripping down his balls. You lubricate your hands with his slick and start to slowly pump him. His head is spinning, the intoxicating ecstasy makes him rut his hips and bite his blushed lips. You fondle his balls with one hand while massaging the tip with the other. Whimpers echo pleasantly in your ears, and he can’t stop watching you, drinking up your shy glances. It twitches in your hold; you can feel how close he is. He’s falling apart because of you and your dampened underwear accepts it. You push your thumb in his mouth and part it to reveal excessive drool and sharp canines.

“Do you like it?” you tease. He makes noise resembling an “uh huh” through teary eyes.

“You wanna come?” He quivers from the question. He can only manage a moan. You move to his base, and you slaver at the daunting size before running your tongue along the urethra and taking him in your mouth. He throws his head back but tries to restrain himself from bucking into you. You can barely get it halfway as his cockhead kisses the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and start bobbing your head, he trembles from unconstrained pleasure.

“Please, I’ll do anything please let me come” he whines, tears spilling down his cheeks. You move your hands with the suction along his gradually noisy whimpers, the occasional gag from sloppy grinding.

“Ah, ‘m gonna come-” he chokes, his chest hitched rapidly, spurting ropes that flood your throat. He rides the wave against you until you pull up. When you meet with him again, his demeanor changes. He instantly snatches you into his arms and smothers his nose in your stomach. He tears your clothes off impatiently, just to taste your bare skin. “Dan-”

“You smell so good. Aeons, why do you smell so good.” He gazes at you darkly, littering wet kisses across your stomach and chest. His slender hands grope and explore anything they can reach. It was like he had a burst of energy; he nearly lifts you off his lap. You notice his horns get progressively longer, a dim radiance outlining them. His nails grew too, they dragged light scratches over your breasts to your hips. He pulls you to him, lips barely hovering before they collide into a deep, passionate exchange. Unspoken words allow teeth and tongue to mix, and you moan into each other. The pheromones hugging his consciousness are addictive, he needs more of it. He promptly flips you on your back, his eyes look down on you with a starving glint.

“I’m hungry now.”

“Oh sure, I can warm up the-”

“No. Let me eat you.” His statement was more of a demand than a request, as he mangles your panties down your legs. He forces your thighs back and appreciates the glistening sticky folds. “Stunning” he purrs. He licks a flat strip to your clit and laps up your juices, then envelops his mouth in your heat. His firm squeeze prevents you from escaping the determined pink muscle, swirling and twisting around you. He switches between French kisses to your vulva and merciless sucking on the erect bud. He’d rather drown in you than catch his breath, your essence covers his jaw and chin. You card your fingers through his scalp and accidentally sweep his horns; he shudders. You rub the pad of your thumb on it, earning a strangled whimper. His tongue sinks into your passage and begins to move at a brutal pace. You tease the sensitivity in his horns, flicking and circling them. The vibrations from his moans rock against your walls and your hips stutter. “Ah- I’m close” you plead. He stimulates your clit, and you pulse around him before your back arches, and you unwind. His mouth is stitched to you as you try to wriggle out of his grasp. He continues to devour your climax. He hoists your lower half off the ground, savoring your honeyed desire, laughing from your overstimulated cries. You’re spasming and feel your heart racing in your ears. He stops at the approaching precipice and lays you down. Balmy kisses dot your knees.

“Please Dan Heng, more” you beg.

“(Y/N), I don’t want to hurt you.” He's throbbing, and he straightens your legs to roll his hips between your thighs. The plush fat cuddles his cock and he pants. You grab his hand.

“It’s okay, I’m yours. I know you don’t mean to hurt me.”

“But-”

“I love you” you blurt out. “Please, I want to have this with you. I can handle it, I promise.” Your vulnerability surprises you, and he stops.

“You...love me?” he questions. For a split second, you see sadness and despair. No one stood to consider an exile incapable of love, but you did. No one bothered to defrost the drifting hollow, but you did. The undying weeps.

“I love you. I would destroy every star and planet in your name. Carve your worth into the cosmos so that even Fuli could worship your memory. I am yours in its entirety, and I’ll only live for you.” You wipe the tears as they come down and kiss his troubles away.

“I want you inside me” you whisper. He stands and scoops you up, his hands on your ass and your arms around his neck. He aligns his tip with your sex and lowers you into the plunge. The stretching blaze of your walls accommodating his girth is excruciating.

“Is this okay?”

“Yes.” You give him a reassuring smile. He’s stuffing you full, the spikes knead your inner walls the deeper he goes. He bottoms out and stays there for a while.

“Tell me when to move” he soothes.

“Go ahead.” He starts an unrelenting tempo, and you grip him like a vice, your arousal drenching his balls. The thundering sound of desperate huffs and squelching, smacking flesh is almost embarrassing; you both don’t care, indulging each other. You could’ve sworn you saw something similar to a dragon's tail swaying behind him, or maybe your mind played tricks on you. Strings of saliva connect his fangs, eyes cloudy with carnal impulse and cock twitching from the friction. He can see the bulge snapping in and out of your stomach and groans.

“Deeper.” He pulls out and lays you on the futon before positioning you in a mating press. In one swoop he jackhammers your cunt, balls swinging and ragged breath on your ear. His hair blankets you and you soak in his sweating physique, his needy appearance.

“Gonna breed this pretty pussy” he moans. Eyeing the unoccupied space on your neck, he salivates. You guide his lips to your neck, encouraging him, and he takes the bait. He ruptures the skin with sharp teeth; harsh puncture wounds remain. He licks the blood away, adamant on claiming you. The spikes massage your g-spot, and your eyes loll back, pleasure and pain blurring. Dan Heng loses his composure, frenetic thrusting as he chases his release.

“I’m gonna come!”

“That’s it, come with me, my love” he groans. You see black as tremors overtake you and a stream of squirt coats you both. Your wails flow into the halls. Your contracting vulva sends him over the edge, and he finally comes undone, painting your insides to the hilt. You milk every last drop of his gushing seed, and he jerks a few times until limp. The creamy, swelling base pushes your folds to capacity. It's barbed wire in your gut. He strokes and kisses your face.

“I'm sorry, it’ll go down soon.” With your legs wrapped around him and his head snug against your cheek, you weren’t sure if you wanted it to go down.

His curse may not be lifted through your embrace. But in your arms, his shackles don't feel as heavy.

#honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail #dan heng smut #dan heng il #dan heng #dan heng x reader #dan heng hsr #dan heng imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae

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iicarused · 3 months

Text

prologue.

hazbin hotel various x reader // interactive fanfiction

synopsis: the beginning of an end. this is to explain who you are and the only two relationships you have, which is lucifer and adam. two acquaintances that you never called a friend nor foe, but they are the only two that has known of your existence — so why is there someone else waiting for you at the docking point in hell?

beware: mentions of the dead

a/n: not much lucifer interaction:(( also reader has never seen adam with his mask on!!

you seen it all. the creation of the world, the creation of the first humans, the fallen, the aftermath. you recall the day when adam was first created like a faint memory, because that is when your purpose in life began. it was a sad tale, really: the first man created bestowed a lovely wife, only to be taken from another man who fell from the heavens above. you watched his second wife suffer the same fate as the first, then adam was suddenly sitting at your canoe.

“what the fuck are you supposed to be?” he questioned. adam was the only man with an exception to cross the waters without a token.

“i suppose you could know me as a lot of things,” you answered vaguely, “life, death, the in between, but i am no more than a ferryman helping you cross to heaven.”

“you talk like you have a riddle to say.” he snorted back a laugh. “what’s your name?”

you pondered his question, and even tried to recall what the gods above tried to call you. “i never had one.” it was pathetic to note because you never really thought this question would come up; there was no use for it before. “never needed one.”

“well sweet stuff, i think a lot of people are going to start asking.” adam raised his arms over his head before leaning against the stern. “you can’t just call yourself boat lady all the time.”

“perhaps i’ll get back to you on that, but for now you may question it.” you pushed your paddle against the dock, signalling to adam that the travel came to an end.

“come visit me often, sweet stuff.” he bid a farewell with an extra token tossed your way. “maybe you won’t need to hide that face of yours by then.”

you didn’t say anything in return, but instead gave him a wave before pushing yourself back to the deep waters. since then, you would often bring souls or the rare person who sat on your canoe to the docking of heaven — since then, adam has waited for you when he was aware of your arrival.

“your hair is growing past your shoulders.” you once whispered to him.

“what? do you like?” he cooed while brushing his hand against yours when retrieving the souls.

you answered with a shrug of your shoulders.

another time was when you had people on your canoe and no souls to bring. “your attire is different.” you commented.

“just got promoted, sweet stuff. any update on your name?” he guided the people off your canoe but never took his gaze off of you.

you shook your head.

finally, there came a day where you tapped your foot anxiously against the wood of your canoe. hands delicately handing the souls of the dead to adam, and it was quick for him to notice.

“are you good?” he asked.

after transferring the souls, you took his hands and brought yourself up to the dock. this was the first time you ever stepped foot on something close to land, for your balance knew nothing more than the movement of the water. his touch was warm and welcoming, his expression falling into one of surprise. your cold fingers ran up to his wrists, your thumbs pressing against his plush skin.

“y/n is my name.” you kept his hands at bay, like you knew he was coming for your veil to show your face. you felt that twitch, but he remained calm.

“you sound like a y/n.”

this was the first night you looked over your shoulder — adam stood at the dock and fluttered his wings in a way to say farewell — quite the odd fella. no matter how brash he seemed, he always made sure to wish you well on your travels.

lucifer was no different, as you could see more similarities than differences. you recall meeting his wife once or twice, but never more than small encounters of a kind greeting. the king of hell wasn’t always there, yet he tried and you could see that each time. a sheepish smile and a wave of his hand to dismiss the last time he hadn’t seen you. he was always kinder than adam,and more hospitable than you want to admit.

“golly! that’s quite a large batch than last time, don’t you think?” lucifer gawked, taking the three jars that illuminated with flickering lights: souls always resembled fireflies to him, not that you would know what they were. “are you sure these are earth's arrivals?”

you gave a curt nod, pulling at your veil so it wouldn’t fall. “some didn’t meet heaven's judgement,” you whispered. “rules are a little skewed right now, but they hope to figure it out soon.”

you watched lucifer expression fall sour before his gaze fell on the jars. his lips tugged into a solemn smile before he sighed. “yeah, heaven has always been a little unorganised — besides the point, are you hungry? lilith just cooked a nice batch of-“

“it’s best for me to leave.” you brought your paddle to your chest, your fingers curling around the smooth wood that helped you with your sails. you always preferred to stand while sailing the rivers. “you have a wonderful week.” you bowed your head before bringing the tip of your paddle to the edge of the dock, pushing yourself back to the waters.

“maybe next time.” lucifer never said bye, farewell, see you later, none of it. never believed in it and will continue to offer a place in his castle for you.

there came a year where lucifer hadn’t shown up at all, and it was very unlikely that he would get someone else to do his job for him. instead, you would finally rubber ducks on the dock — different varieties of them — at first, you didn’t know what to think of them, nor did you know what they were. curious, you took each one and left the souls, or person, to wait at the dock while you left.

you never took these creations to adam, as you were more embarrassed by the fact you did not know what they were. so you left it to conversations with the dead to explain it to you.

“they’re toys!”

“they’re meant for the water!”

“you can squish them and they’ll make a sound!”

each one explained in various ways, and it always intrigued you. while you forbade yourself from touching the porcelain waters of souls, you did drop those ducks on to the water and watch them float.

while you sailed down the rivers of entering hell, you found the air to be cold. in all your years of coming to this side of all 6 realms, hell was never meant to be cold. you found yourself listening more intently, barely stroking your paddle through the calm waters, lifting your veil over your eyes to catch a figure waiting for you at the docks.

#ᥫ᭡.#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer magne x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #adam x you #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel

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jazjelspen · 3 months

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when memories snow

alastor x overlord reader

(notes: songfic, angst, reader has similar powers to alastor, al and vox used to be friends in this fic)

-oneshot-

song used: when memories snow - mitski

You looked out your window to see the Hazbin Hotel in ruins, 666 News playing in the background as you stared off. You recently left the V's building after watching the wreck that was Alastor and Adam's battle through Vox's TV, sure it felt good seeing Alastor get what he deserved after what he did to the both of you but still.. lingering feelings of yours stayed present.

You knew he wasn't dead. You could feel it, his soul's presence still reeked as always it always has in hell.. but it was faint. His soul was far and you could feel it recovering,

That was all you could feel though, your powers limited to there.

You never really enjoyed partnering up with Vox, let alone the other Vs in general. Despite him being an ass to work with you enjoyed when you and Vox would complain to each other about how Alastor threw you both aside.

For Vox he was a friend, business partner, but to you-- he was your lover.

Despite how much you liked complaining to him you didn't exactly pay him much attention since he clearly just wanted to reel you in to work against Alastor, in a heat of anger and at the brink of tears you agreed, now you wondered if it was even worth it.

You loved him, you loved Alastor so much. You made so many good memories with him to the point that you couldn't even look at your home the same now that he's been there, nor could you look at the streets, the towns, the corners of hell you've both been in together. Too painful.

The way he left you behind was sad, truly. He was courting you for at least a decade or two and oh was he such a gentleman to you.. a real sweetheart. He'd hold out his hand for you to take when going down steps of stairs, offer you his arm to hold when walking, take you to outings full of wonder and awe despite the setting you both were in, he even gave you private gifts for when he noticed you were stressed out over your work or simply distraught over anything. Yes this seemed like basic relationship actions but to you it meant so much more.

Sure, he was never openly affectionate. He was okay with touch from you and all and even said a few little cheesy remarks towards you that at times that would make your face flush from how pure his words are despite the owner of the tongue that they are coming out of.

You both bonded over how similar your powers were, bonded over dance, music, singing and to you he saw you as a very interesting and peculiar individual with how different your own adventures were, adventures where he just had to come and see what you were to do to end the situation with and how.. even your his and your shadows played around and goofed off themselves.

To him, you were entertaining.

But in private? He was a dream, at times telling you sweet things that made you light-headed in the best way possible and on the very, very rare occasions did he ever land a kiss on you behind closed doors.

You were the only one to see him this way, so in the end it made you feel as if his love for you was true.

Right?

You loved him, you hated him.

You want to rip him apart in a mess of blood and guts but you also want to be near him again.

Conflicting feelings were raging a war in you, your love and your hunger for revenge killing each other slowly to see who would be the fateful victor in this.

Seven years ago on the day of one of your anniversaries he left you with no warning at all, leaving you worried sick and almost grieving. You attempted to use your powers to try to feel his soul somewhere, anywhere.. but it was as if it fizzled out- leaving traces of where he used to be.

You never moved on and seeing him suddenly come back after those painful years passed made you so happy.. feeling his soul walking around was like a breath of the freshest air of Eden, until all he did was only acknowledge everyone but you.. he fucking acknowledged Vox but ignored you and disappeared each time you came around and no matter how hard you tried it pained you immensely how slicker he got to avoid talking to you.

The killing sprees you both went on together? The dates? The care, the protecting.. you sacrificed one of your fellow overlords for him for his radio broadcast when he first came about because you felt like he was an interesting individual with potential. Was it all just-- for naught?

He seemed in love in his own special way.. so why.. why did he leave you with no words and now proceed to pretend as if you're nothing but a limp corpse.

You hated it you couldn't take it.

So you sought refuge in Vox, becoming 'friends' through your fresh hate of Alastor.

Once the news finished its broadcast you couldn't help but still feel a sense of anger rising in you, revenge bubbling in your blood through your skin as if begging you to take your own pound of flesh.

"When memories snow, and cover up the driveway."

Your voice began to sing, singing wasn't something you did since that fateful day your heart was ripped inside out. But.. it was only fitting you finally did now.

"I shovel all those memories, clear the path to drive to the store."

Your feet turned away from the window to walk towards your desk, you looked around briefly to notice how unkept it was.. never fully cleaning your own study due to your emotional rollercoasters.

"And when memories melt," your eyes narrowed down in emotional pain, remembering one of your most exciting escapades with him before he left. "I hear them in the drainpipe."

You leaned against your desk as you hurriedly opened one of your drawers to then pull out a hidden black and white photo of Alastor and you celebrating one of your anniversaries.

You were so happy that day.

Tears began brimming in your eyes as your hand started trembling and wrinkling the photo with how hard you were holding it.

Do you think he'd visit you?...

Your throat cracking slightly yet your singing never dared to falter.

"Dripping through the downspout.. as I lie awake in the dark."

No, no. If he truly wanted to see you again he would've done it six months ago, but he seemed to be more interested and entertained by the Princess of Hell and her dingy hotel.

As the sound around you amplified so did your heart beat, your anger, the exploding rage. Your shadow began to move on its own as an evil smile presented itself on the floorboards. It laughed, it laughed at you yet whispered encouraging words.. encouraging you to get him to regret leaving you behind. The same shadow that laughed at you when you first realized that you were truly in love with him.

The shadow grew more and expanded itself to your wall and over the window, looking down at the window where the ruins of the hotel was visible to you. It laughed and whispered, mumbled and encouraged you.

As your sorrow weighed on you and made you physically lean against your desk with your hand over your heart, the emotional ache washing over you like a tsunami's ocean wave. It felt as if that dreadful day was repeating,

"And if I break,"

You turned around to face the window again, your body leaning on your desk with a pained look on your features. You wanted to stop hurting--

"Could I go on break?"

It will, it'll stop hurting. Your shadow told you so, and it whispered so many secrets and ideas to you you couldn't help but feel confident in what you wanted to do next.

You won't stay down, you'll pick yourself up.

You stood up straight and off from the desk, a newfound optimism seating itself next to your heartbreak. It even reached to your vocal cords with it now making your singing sound more stern and steady.

"Be back in my room, writing speeches in my head."

You took a few steps towards the window, your shadow only growing bigger and widening itself across your room.. basking it all in darkness. It devilishly cheered for you, for your up in coming revenge.

You began to grin, feeling your power enhance with this fire in your heart raging and dancing like a tango.

You raised your arms up as if welcoming in this new revelation, happily bringing in this new purpose.

"Listening to the thousand hands,"

"That clap for me in the dark."

Your grinning face stayed plastered with your emotions as you sang your last words, your song finishing soon after.

In the end, rage won over your soul, overlooking the love you have had for him.

You will get your revenge against Alastor.

Whether he truly felt the same way for you or not, you weren't going to ask yourself that anymore. Avenging yourself was all that mattered.

You picked up your phone, tapping it a few times before it started ringing.. your intended target to help you in your plans answered.

"Vox, do you still have some free time on your hands? We need to have a discussion about the Radio Demon."

You weren't regretting this, you won't regret it.

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flamingpudding · 11 months

Text

Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

<<1 Previous Next

Feral brother of mine

When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.

Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.

Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.

Danyal Al Ghul.

His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.

He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.

All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.

Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.

"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."

Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."

A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.

He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.

The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.

"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.

The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.

It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.

Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.

This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.

He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.

"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.

"Damien! Stop!"

It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.

"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"

The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.

"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.

"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"

"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"

The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.

"ahbak, Dami"

Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.

Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.

"FUCK!"

Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.

But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."

"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"

"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.

"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.

"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."

Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.

"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."

"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.

"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."

"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"

"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny and damian are twins #de aged danny #dp x dc #feral danny #fanfic #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #richard grayson #dc x dp #unedited #crossover #no beta wie die like danny #he still only bites jason #I have no idea if I used ahbak correctly #still learning how to best blog fanfics here #dpxdc

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yorsgirl · 1 month

Text

On such a full moon night

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You were an untouched canvas and he aimed to paint you in all colors of his.

Tropes: Explicit smut, angst, unhappy ending.

Warnings: Dead dove: do not read, Non con/Dub con, fem!reader, violent!sukuna, kissing, biting, choking, nipple play, fingering, rough sex, degradation, dacryphilia(arousal from tears), sadism(to enjoy the act of inflicting pain on others), mild torture, loss of virginity, blood, defloration(losing hymen through sexual intimacy), corruption kink(the idea of corrupting someone pure with one's negativities), rough sex, cervix fucking, unprotected sex.

General warnings: Aged-up characters, suicidal thoughts, Canon timeline, Sukuna in Yuji's body, Inaccurate canon lore in some parts, usage of nicknames, no mention of y/n.

Word count: 4.4k

A/N: THIS IS A VERY DARK FANFICTION WITH ELEMENTS OF BORDERLINE NON-CONSENSUAL SEX AND BODY INJURY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE TRIGGERED BY SUCH TOPICS.

MDNI - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Disclaimer: Forceful or coerced intimacy is wrong. I, in no way, support sexual intercourse through any other means except conscious consent. This piece of work is only written for entertainment purpose, it has no relation with real life nor does it aim to influence someone's real life behaviors.

The first time Sukuna saw you, he knew he had to have you.

Apparently, you were that damn brat’s some middle school acquaintance or so he suppose. He didn’t bother learning your relation with his vessel, he never did. Honestly, he was the least bothered with what happened with that boy’s personal life. And you would have been just another face in the crowd but you weren’t.

He found you amusing, to say the least.

What lured him to you was the lack of cursed energy you possessed. It was intriguing; how a human could have so little amount of negativity harnessed in their being? How could anyone be so unscathed from the adversities of the world?

Sukuna was no stranger to the complexity of human emotions. He was a human. Once. Some thousand years ago. And he was relatively knowledgeable on how annoying such emotions could be.

So a maiden like yourself was rather amusing.

You were like a delicate flower to him - unharmed, untouched. So beautiful, so fragile, so vulnerable.

His red irises locked onto you, as he watched you from the eyes of his vessel. He observed you, like a hawk observed its prey.

And were you really anything more?

You were his prey.

A smirk slipped into his lips as he continued to stare at the delicacy before him.

“Just you wait for me, little prey.”

The wait ended sooner than he had anticipated. The higher ups had sent his vessel on a mission to eliminate one grade one cursed spirit. Calamity could only strike cause by the time the Yuji reached the spot, the cursed spirit had evolved to a special grade.

Weak and on the brink of losing consciousness, yet the cursed spirit was evoking chaos through the dark forest. Just before he could fall into a deep slumber, did the young man let the curse residing in him assume control.

It took Sukuna hardly more than a few minutes to erase the existence of that spirit from the very face of the Earth.

And then, he waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three minutes.

Then the realization hit him that the brat couldn’t gain control.

He grinned at the new found and perhaps, rare freedom. He was going to celebrate these moments of slip up. For he knew, the exact place he needed to be.

He was free, after all.

You stared up ahead, transfixed by the bright moon illuminating the dark city. The night so peaceful and pretty. Almost too quite.

You loved nights.

You loved the moon.

And on such a full moon night, you couldn’t help but feel an unease, a sense of foreboding that something terrible were to happen. Some threat lingered as the wind swept the tendrils of hair that cascaded aside your face.

As the shadows cast by the celestial body start to move across the land, you heard a thud behind your back. Like something has fallen. Or perhaps, someone.

You turned around, tufts of pink hair caught your attention first. The eerie red eyes piercing your soul, staring at you; almost too familiar yet, foreign and terrifying at once. You squint your eyes, trying to make out the figure which had turned the air so cold which caused the hairs on your neck to rise up.

“Yuji?” You called aloud but as soon the name leaves your lips, you bite back on your tongue – this wasn’t Yuji.

You heard the clicking of tongue as the familiar body steps forward, the moonlight falling on his features; dark markings covered parts of his face. A grin, almost sinister playing on his lips. His sharp canines glinting as your eyes widen in recognition.

“Su-Sukuna…” You hesitate to even utter his name, your fear palpable. Your breath hitched as his grin widened (if that was possible) and he nodded. You stepped back, your bottom hitting the railing of the terrace, as your grip on the metal tightened.

What? What is he doing here?

“You haven’t changed at all, as it seems.” His deep voice hit right at your bones, the spine chilling sensation stronger than ever.

He will kill me.

Is it how I am going to die?

You didn’t answer. What would you even speak of? Standing before you was the incarnate of devil himself. One wrong move and you would be dead. Even being silent wasn’t a preferable choice, he’d kill you if that satisfied him.

“Fear not,” He kept on stepping closer, causing you to swallow a lump. Palms sweating at the amount of dread this being had bestowed upon you, just by being here for a few seconds. His footsteps resonates through the entire space. “I am just here to take something.”

The best course of action would have been to run or just try to get as far away from him as possible.

Even though you might have not been a sorcerer, still you had known enough from your friend about the curse that resided within him. And you knew, Sukuna Ryomen was no good news.

Even if Yuji hadn’t told you about the spirit within him, you knew something was wrong from the last time you met him. Whether it was the omnious aura that radiated from your friend or the spine chilling sensation that you were being watched by some unworldly creature when with him. Simply to say, it was terrorizing.

You gulped staying rooted in the spot, frozen in fear as Sukuna inched closer to you. “I don’t have anything for you.” You tried to put on a brave facade, yet the quiver in your voice and the ragged breathing incited a snort from the monster in front.

“That’s where you go wrong, dear.” It was almost mocking on how he used the nickname. “You just have what I want, and I am going to take it.”

Your terrified expression only fuels his desire for you. Its been too long and you are just too perfect to not quench the thirst gnawing at him. The moonlight did nothing but add onto the radiance of your hypnotic features. Your neck and shoulders, illuminated by the silver light being casted from the heavenly body.

So radiant… so perfect…

It was like the Gods had just created you for him. To be undone by his hands, to quench his thirst, to dissipate his prolonged hunger.

How many centuries has it been since he had such an untouched maiden before him? Just the thought of having you beneath him, painting you in his hues that you have never known only made him shudder with excitement.

And just before the adrenaline could take action, Sukuna gripped your arm; it being tight enough to leave bruises. He pulled you close to himself, his sharp nails digging into your skin.

The piercing scream on the verge of your lips was shunned out as he leaned and pressed his lips to yours. His other hand gripping the back of your head, pushing you closer to him.

As much as you wriggled in his death grip; it was futile. Sukuna was far stronger than you could ever be. Scorned by lust and the desire to quench this insatiable hunger, his sense of rationality was thrown away. Or did he even have one to begin with?

He bit down your lower lip – drawing your blood. He licked it up, letting the metallic taste fill his mouth. You grunted and hit his chest repeatedly, as if that would stop him from fulfilling his desire.

Your screams were muffled as he continued to bestow his brutality over your mouth.

He pulled you back by your hair, exposing your delicious neck to him to feast on. The man didn’t wait a second before letting his fangs dug into your flesh. You let out a screech, squirming in his hold and kicking on his legs to just get away. A loud malicious laughter filled your ears, the stinging pain of him biting down on your neck grew almost overbearing.

The corners of Sukuna’s lips curled up, the sight of your neck was a sight to behold. The blood oozing from the bruises, almost matched the color of his iries.

“Ah- such a view…” He mumbled, his conscience getting clouded from the bloodied mess he had created your neck to be.

“No, stop! Get away.”

Screams of horror and anguish escaped your lips, the pleas of help and pain falling onto deaf ears. The moisture slid down your cheeks and to your jaw as he roughly pushed you down on the concrete floor. Your head slammed down hard, blood trickling down your head to your nape. Your vision blurred as you saw your captor descend on top of your injured body.

“No,” You shouted, the attempt at shielding yourself with your hands that had him snicker at your pitiful state. In a second, both of your wrists were in his grasp, pinning them above your head. “No, stop.”

“Please, stop,” You sobbed, taking in a sharp breath

“Don’t fight it, doll,” The evident taunt in his voice wasn’t missed besides the nickname used had a shiver run down your spine. He pressed his knee over your clothed core while you frantically kicked your legs to save yourself from this torment. He leaned down near your face, relishing on the terror residing in your eyes.

He pulled your head up by your neck, his claws grazing over your delicate skin before he slammed you down again. And again and again. The concrete was drenched with your blood. And you wished the pain shooting down your body would be enough for you to lose consciousness. But this night wasn’t for your wishes.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your pretty eyes – ah, what a beautiful sight. The groans of pain accompanied by the delicious tears ignited his arousal. Your pleas and begs fell on deaf ears and you gasped when he took your earlobe between his teeth.

“It won’t hurt…” Your chest rose up and down as you gritted your teeth with disgust, tilting your jaw to the side.

“Only if you stop resisting.”

One of the corners of his lips curled up, “If you don’t…” He paused, trailing his tongue on the side of your neck. He held your throat, pressing his thumb on your wind pipe, “You won’t like what will happen.”

The conditions and choice laid before you, crystal clear. Either submit to his sadistic whims or he’ll force you into submission. One worse than another yet the outcome of both the choices would be same – loss of your dignity. Just the mere thought of the impending doom had your gut twisting with fear. Protesting against his desires did nothing but brought bruises upon you until then. The dried blood on your lips and neck served as proof. Your head was already dizzy from the previous repeated assault. You could only hope that submission would be a better approach.

Setting aside your pride, you reluctantly relaxed in his grasp.

“Good choice.”

His eyes held amusement, pulling your face up, his mouth latched on yours. Tongue invading and exploring each corner while you tried to stop the whimpers. His grip tightened on your wrists, causing you to wince in pain. Any more pressure and you were sure, your wrists would snap in two.

“Pl-please, it hurts… st-stop.”

He raised an eyebrow, squeezing your wrist tighter, “Does it now?” He soon got his answer as you winced in pain again, an audible yelp escaping your mouth.

“Say, doll,” He continued. “If I let go off you now, you wouldn’t try anything stupid, right?”

Too paralyzed by fear and the sting in your wrists held you incapable of answering. You could only nod as a response and so you did.

Sukuna frowned. He asked you a question and you dare not answer him? He reached for your jaw again, nails leaving crescent moon shapes on your skin. “Use your words, you dumb bitch.” He jerked your face, “I want to hear that sweet voice of yours.”

He inserted his forefinger and thumb on the gap of your mouth, pinching your tongue. “Or, do you want me to shut you up forever?”

You shook your head, managing to croak out, “No.”

“No what?”

“No,” You paused, looking into his eyes which held nothing but coldness. “No… I wouldn’t try anything stupid.”

He smirked as he released his grip from your wrists and jaw, “Good girl.” His nails began to grown into sharp dark claws. In a swift motion, your shirt was ripped from your body. The tattered fabric thrown away, as he glided the claw of his forefinger through your abdomen. The jitter down your spine wasn’t unnoticed but Sukuna was too mesmerized by the perfect form under him to mind it. Hooking his finger under the mid-section of your brassier, he pulled away the last clothing covering your bosom.

You flinched as the cool night air hit your bare skin, hardening your buds. You couldn’t help but close your eyes shut as the moon glinted through Sukuna’s red irises.

He had no care for your reactions, soon he took one of your breast in hand, as he pinched the bud of another eliciting a painful moan from you. He rolled and pinched them between his fingers as you gritted your teeth.

You were disgusted. Disgusted that he was tormenting you like this. Disgusted at yourself that you were helpless; you couldn’t escape him. And disgusted that you could feel the heat pooling in your core.

You gasped as you felt his tongue lick a line over your breast, he held in hand. And soon his mouth latched onto it. He sucked and licked your sensitive area. You had to bite down your bruised lips to stop the sounds yet it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough when his teeth grazed over the darkened skin of your bosom; you let out a whine. He groped your other breast as his free hand trailed down over to your core. His fingers dug inside the waistline of your skirt.

Sukuna couldn’t help but smirk as he felt the wetness on your panties. Pulling away from you, he licked his lips. “Ah- look at that, all that defiance still you’re so wet, doll.”

Your eyes opened wide, you parted your lips to retort but there wasn’t one in the first place. Silence was your only answer. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You didn’t like it one bit, there were no joy for your body to react this way. Then why?

With another move, your skirt and inner garment was shredded. A low squeal escaped your lips as your cheeks tinted red with shame. Sukuna chuckled, “Say it whore, you want it as much, right?”

“N-no, I-” You screeched, as his claws dug into your thighs. Blood leaking from the cuts as he applied more pressure.

“What was that? A no, was it?” His voice echoed in your ears, his eyes dripping with malice and even when there was a smile in his face, you knew it was far from a genuine one.

You frantically shook your head, “No, I- I am sorry.” You apologized repeatedly, breaking your words in between. “Please… I didn’t m-mean to, I am sorry.”

“Sorry won’t fix shit, doll.” Just like that, the claws on his fingers again shorten up to nails. Two fingers run over the wetness of your slit, coating them in the warmth of your arousal. Tears spring up to your eyes as he pushed both of the digits inside, earning a loud moan from you as those drops slid down yours eyes.

“Look at you crying like a pathetic whore,” He cackled as he increased the pace of his fingers, hitting on the bundle of nerves inside you. “How utterly pitiful,” He remarked, a smirk formed on his lips as he saw the tears glide down your eyes. They did nothing but urge him to go more as he crossed both the fingers in a V, stretching you more.

“Just like a dumb bitch.” He mused, “A good for nothing, fuckdoll, that’s what you’re, right?”

Your hips buckled as a knot formed in your stomach, and you could feel your release close by. You writhed under his cruel ministrations, your body reacting in ways you didn’t wish at all.

“Hold it,” He ordered as he felt your insides clamp on his fingers. You pressed your lips in a thin line, biting on them. Your nails digging on the rough concrete you laid on.

“If you want to cum, fucking beg for it like a slut.”

You hated it, hated each second of it. Still you couldn’t decipher why there was a rush of heat to your aching core when he called with such a degrading name. You wondered whether you had gone insane to find pleasure in being handled such a way.

“Go on, slut,” He cooed at you, pressing his thumb on your clitoris. “Beg for it, beg me to make you cum.”

Your throat went dry and as if on autopilot, the cursed words left your lips, “Please, let me cum, Sukuna.” Your hips jerked towards him to maximize the friction. “Please.”

Sukuna grinned. Its victory – his victory. He relished each moment of how it was him, only him who had you writhing and begging under him.

“Cum.”

Your hips buckled again as you arched your back, releasing the pent up tension on his fingers. God forbid, if you hadn’t ever thought about killing yourself before. You did then. You wished for nothing but to die. Either by his hands or you’d kill yourself on your own. The humiliation of giving into his whims elicited a painful sobs from you.

What curse befell you? What have you ever done to deserve this? Why were you being subjected to this torment? Why does this night seem to not end?

He pulled out his fingers, rubbing them together as he watched the sticky liquid glide down his palm. For a second, the malicious smile remained on his face. The next, he frowned.

No. Not enough. It wasn’t enough.

He wiped his hands on the torn fabric of what remained of your skirt. But you were too far down the road of self-depreciation to care. The only sound reverberating on your mind was your pleas as you wished for the God of death to descend and take you away with them.

“Kill me,” The words left your lips before they could be stopped, but you didn’t care. He had you where he wanted, he got what he wanted. He wanted you to plead, you’d plead before him. “Please, kill me… please.”

He raised an eyebrow at the sudden shower of requests. “Now, why would I do that, doll?”

“Just,” You paused, your eyes held nothing but desperation. “Do it, kill me, please.” You saw how his lips twisted into a grimace, his eyes locked on yours.

“Please, just kill me,” You begged again, shutting your eyes close as you leaned your head on the bloodied concrete. You heard ruffling and just when you thought your wish would be answered, it wasn’t.

Perhaps, you had forgotten this night wasn’t for you.

To have someone begging for death wasn’t new to him. Normally, he’d kill them after they were done serving their purpose. But it was you. And heavens, he had taken quite a liking to you. Killing you so soon, would be futile. Besides, he still wasn’t done with you.

He clamped your mouth shut with his palm as he pressed the tip of his hardened member on your entrance. The tightness he felt on his fingers, previously, gave way to the fact of your lack of experience. In simple words – your intact virginity. He expected nothing less than a maiden like you. How pitiful, your preserved innocence was to be shredded by him.

Your body tenses immediately as he drives his hips forward, the hand over your mouth tightened; muffling all the screams that were ready to escaped. Just like that, the last straw of yourself, of the girl you once were was destroyed.

Your eyes opened wide, you shook your head as your lower body burnt in searing pain. Like hot lava poured on you, you kicked your legs but it only amplified the awful stinging between your thighs.

Sukuna watched the blood drip down you, he pushed his hips forward hitting you on the deepest parts. He pulled away again before pushing back in with equal force. Each thrust deeper and painful from the other. His nails dug into your hips as he pulled you towards himself, throwing your legs over his shoulder he continued this brutal torment. Revelling on the terror stricken expression that plagued your eyes.

Warm tears slid down your cheeks to your jaw as the agony never let go.

Which pain hurt more?

The one he was inflicting on you? Or the one you inflicted on yourself when the pain started to contort in form of pleasure?

Sukuna wasn’t new to the concept of coupling. For in the Heian era, he had women spreading their legs for him at his command. He was aware of every strings he had to pull to make the session a memorable one. Though he never cared for his partners pleasures except his own, this time he thought something different. For being so wondrous and good to him, you deserved some reward.

His free hand went down as he rubbed circles over your clitoris. Thrusting hard into you, each grunt filled with unbridled pleasure as your inner muscle walls tightened around him.

This wasn’t right. Not at all. Finding ecstasy under this vile monster was sick. And yet you reacted on ways you didn’t want at all. You hated how your hips jerked forward on their own and how instead of screaming, those sounds were of pleasurable moans. To find pleasure in unwanted act – you must be sick. Twisted even. Insane to mark the more.

Sukuna could feel himself twitch as your walls tightened around him. He let out a snicker as his hand went up to pinch and grope your breast. The high end was near, he could feel it. Not just for him but for you too.

“What is it, whore? Want to cum again?” He urged, squeezing your breast. The contortion of your face left him over the edge as he let out a low grunt. He scoffed, “Look at you, squirming like a pathetic bitch in heat.”

He thrusted forward, increasing his pace as he hit your cervix repeatedly. You twisted your upper body, your fingers bloodied with the broken nails and pierced skin as they dug into the hard floor.

“If you want to cum, then cum.”

You didn’t even know, you were waiting for his permission but when he gave it – your body spasmed as your back arched and you felt your high washing over. You released with him buried deep inside you and soon after a few violent thrusts, he emptied himself inside you.

Your eyes widened, your mouth open wide as the gush of fluids had you nauseous. You looked up into his eyes which held satisfaction. Satisfaction of getting rid of the frustration but that overshadowed by the satisfaction of defiling you.

You were wrong. This night wasn’t for him, it was for you.

Each and everything that went down tonight was solely for you.

The look in his eyes terrified you. No, it wasn’t the look of a killer, he wouldn’t kill you; you were sure of that. But it was the very look of not killing you that terrified you. It was the realization that your life wouldn’t end by his hands that was terrifying.

Death now seemed to be a better option than anything.

You looked up at the sky, the full moon casting its silver hues on the monster above you. A sob left your lips as he pulled away from you. Your chest rumbled with despair as you were left nothing but a crying mess under that celestial body.

For you knew, it witnessed the monstrosity that went down tonight.

Till now, the moon reminded you of a silent companion for it knew all about you. It did still. But from hence now, looking at that heavenly body would do nothing but remind you of this night. Remind you of your lost purity.

Just like the tattered clothes on your body, your innocence was ripped apart. Destroyed.

You knew you’d never be able to go back to what you once were. This night will haunt you like a ghost in the dark. No amount of assurances, comforts or anything else would be enough to erase this incident. It’d be etched in your mind till the day you die and with that Sukuna’s name will be forever be imprinted in your life.

You could wash off the blood and other liquids but you could never remove his touch.

Why were you here? Why did it happen? Why did it have to be you?

If only you weren’t here. If only you’d stayed in like your parents asked. If only you didn’t love the moon…

Sukuna gazed at you with a bored expression as you drowned in the depths of despair and agony. He clicked his tongue as he wiped himself off on the remnants of your clothes before settling his clothes properly.

All of a sudden, a sting ran through his head. He smirked at that. He licked his lips as he spared you a last glance.

“Enjoy the sight, brat.”

His body relaxed for a second, the marks disappearing from his frame. Red eyes converted to brown as the extra pair of eyes turned to scars.

You, his middle school friend, were lying before him. Dried blood splayed across your body, scratches and bite marks over your chest and neck and a pool of blood under your head. The glistening sweat on his body as well as yours put the puzzle pieces in place. If that wasn’t enough, Yuji’s eyes widened with horror as all the memories from Sukuna’s mind rushed in his.

He could hear your screams and cries all at once when Sukuna left his very mark on you. It was there for a second when all the noise was ringing in his ears but the next, only the ragged breathing of the victim and the perpetrator’s alter ego was heard.

Yuji glanced down at his hands.

Why wasn't he dead yet?

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna jjk #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x you #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x you

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flowerandblood · 7 months

Text

The Evening Star (1/2)

[ Hades • Aemond x Persephone • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, smut, angst, kidnaping, sexual tension, obsession, incest, toxic relation ]

[ description: When the god of the underworld comes out of his caves once a year to admire his beloved constellation, he accidentally meets his niece, whom he has never seen before. Moved by sudden lust and desire, he kidnaps her, despite her despair and his brother's anger. Angst, sexual tension, dark and obsessive Aemond. ] Part 2: The Moonlight Ray

The Evening Star & The Moonlight Ray Persephone Moodboard

*English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy!*

My others works: Masterlist

_____

He never understood his brother, hurling his lightning bolts from the heavens at defenceless people in a rage − he did not understand his volatility, he did not understand his irrepressible desire, his unlimited emotionality.

He did not understand how he could desire and feel so many things at once, having his sister-wife haunt and take other goddesses, nymphs, or even human women, begetting bastards on earth and in the heavens.

He did not understand him, for he was emptiness, abyss, coldness, the opposite of his impulsiveness, his eternal volatility − he was like stone, like white marble, soul as well as body.

The only desire he had ever known in his life was the desire for power, and for this his brother deprived him of one eye before casting him into a dark abyss where not even the light of the stars could reach.

Although he was a god, his brother's blow could not be undone and he was forever disfigured, the dark hole in his face filled with a precious stone, sapphire, shining with a disturbing blue light.

Accustomed to the darkness of Hades, he could no longer bear the intense light of the sun and rarely appeared on Olympus itself; he would wander through his dark caverns in his long, black matted robe and gaze at the river Styx, at its pale light and the contorted terrified faces of the souls who swam in it.

When word reached him that his brother had mated with their other sister, the goddess of the field crops, and that she had bore him a daughter, he was neither surprised nor interested − he did not come to celebrate her birth on Olympus or congratulate his brother.

His brother had often suggested to him that he should take a wife, that he should not be alone in the darkness of the underworld.

He, however, felt no such need.

Even his sister, known as the Goddess of Love and Desire, was unable to seduce him.

She touched his naked body with her soft lips and hands, but he felt nothing but embarrassment.

He left Hades only once a year, when his favourite constellation emerged in the sky − He would then stroll through the old, dense forest looking up at the stars, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the rustle of the leaves.

When this time of year came, when he left his caves and looked up, he felt contentment at the sight of the twinkling dots in the sky, the pleasant night breeze enveloping his cold body.

He strolled slowly and aimlessly, looking upwards, all around him only the quiet rustling of his robes and the sound of dew-wet grass lingering beneath his feet.

He froze as he heard someone's footsteps break a twig not far from him, he knew he was not alone and he was furious.

He thought that whoever this mortal was, he would flow right down his river of the dead.

He tilted his head to the side and saw a pale figure illuminated only by shy starlight, her body pressed against the trunk of a tree as if she wanted to take refuge in it, her face expressing helpless anxiety.

Her eyes were big, warm and as dark as his robe, her hair long, partly loose, partly decorated with rich braids encircling her head, small blue flowers woven into her hair.

Her full, moist, fleshy lips were parted slightly in an accelerated breath, her breasts which he could see perfectly through the thin, transparent material of her robe were rising and falling restlessly, her skin glistening like moonlight.

He stared at her, unable to move or make a sound, unsure if he had ever seen a being so infinitely beautiful in his life, luminous as the stars above his head.

He swallowed loudly when he saw that she had taken a step back to retreat, to escape.

"Is it the beautiful Evening Star herself who has left the sky to enchant me with her company?" He asked lowly, impassively, his voice though assured and direct trembled, betraying his desperation.

She stopped in mid-motion and looked at him again, surprised and embarrassed at the same time by his words − it seemed to him that he saw perfectly well how her cheeks flushed, giving her skin a rose tint.

She pressed her lips together watching him carefully, lifting her chin slightly as if probing him closely from afar, assessing whether he was a threat to her, whether he would hurt her.

He was unable to take his eyes off her.

"I will tell you who I am only if you tell me who you are." She whispered in a trembling, gentle tone.

A smirk appeared on his face at the thought that maybe she was a nymph who had ventured too far from her friends, and that she was at his mercy now.

He hummed under his breath and moved ahead, putting his hands behind his back, looking under his feet, moving unhurriedly towards her.

"They call me many names." He said with mischievous amusement, throwing her a piercing, disturbing look from which she shuddered all over, taking a step back again.

"My river, though water is a life-giving gift, brings death." He whispered once he was a few steps away from her, wanting her to solve the riddle herself, to exert herself.

She swallowed loudly, her eyes widening suddenly, as if she had just realised something.

"− uncle −" She whispered, and he froze, stopping in mid-step; for the first time in the thousands of years he had walked the world he felt his own heart pounding hard.

He looked at her in disbelief, and it was only at close that he saw that she did indeed have something of his brother and sister in her, though it was her she resembled more − he felt himself grow even paler than usual, his hands clenched into fists behind his back.

She, however, seemed not frightened about who he was, her face took on an expression full of contentment and warmth. She moved closer to him and now it was he who took a step back feeling a strange heat in his lower abdomen, his manhood throbbed suddenly as he caught a glimpse of the outline of her soft breasts.

"My mother told me a lot about you. About the sun hurting your eye." She said softly, and he swallowed loudly seeing that she was staring at his scar, at the stone placed where his eye once was.

He thought he was like Hephaestus, hideous, disfigured, and that she would never desire him.

He felt his jaw clench tightly, his body tense, hard as granite when she tentatively placed her soft hand on his shoulder, he felt the warmth of her flesh through the thin material of his robe.

He didn't know what was happening to his body, he felt tickling and tension in his lower abdomen, a strenuous need for some kind of relief that he didn't understand.

"Stay with me to watch the sunrise. Don't sink into darkness yet." She whispered as if in worry − he couldn't tear his eyes from her face, from her warm gaze.

He was unable to comprehend how any living being could be so beautiful.

"No." He said coldly, and then grasped her in his arms, his hands clenching on her soft, hot flesh like steel tongs.

For a moment she couldn't make a sound, terrified and shocked − she didn't scream when he threw her over his shoulder and headed towards his underworld, cold, dark, damp.

It was only when she realised what he was doing that she began to struggle and cry, calling loudly for help from her mother and father, begging him not to do it, to let her go, that she would not tell anyone about it.

He, however, decided to follow his brother's advice and take a wife.

The marriage required the oaths from both of them, but this did not prevent him from acknowledging her as his wife even though she refused to speak the words.

Even though he had given her his most beautiful chamber, on whose ceiling precious minerals shimmered like stars, in which streams of water hummed, in which she could lie on a great, soft bed, she did not want to see him.

He was not his brother.

He had no intention of taking her against her will.

It was enough for him that he could look at her every day.

Only him.

He bestowed new gifts on her every day, but she still cried.

He gave her a beautiful long gown of dark, translucent material embroidered with stones in which the warm light of the sun was encased after she said she longed to see it, but she didn't even look at it.

The blue flowers in her hair withered as did the warmth in her eyes − she was slowly becoming as pale as he was and was constantly shivering from the cold.

She would not let him embrace or touch her; she covered herself with the thick furs he had given her and turned away from him.

Occasionally something would awaken in her − she would then run up to him when he visited her and beg him to let her leave to see her mother.

"I promise you that I will come back and that I will be your wife. Please, let me see the sunshine and the fresh grass one last time." She begged, touching tenderly his cold cheek with her fingers, almost as if she loved him, and he almost gave in to her every time.

"I can't, Persephone." He replied coolly, feeling some kind of pain seeing the despair on her face, hearing her helpless sobbs again, her small hands clenched on his robe, her cheek hugged to his chest.

"My name is Kora." She mumbled with difficulty, as if enraged. He hummed at her words, lifting slowly his large, cold hand, taking unruly strands of her hair from her face, all red from crying.

"Persephone, this name, is my gift to you. For my sweet wife." He whispered, and she trembled, struggling to breathe, shaking all over.

"− please −" She babbled as he embraced her uncertainly and stroked her hair, relishing its soft texture, letting her draw on this substitute of comfort.

He walked with her through the interiors of Hades, wanting to show her that besides death, there was also beauty in the underworld − underground streams and lakes with crystal clear water, his three-headed, beloved Cerberus, who in his presence turned from a monstrous beast into a gentle, docile animal.

Sometimes it seemed to him that a smile adorned her face for a moment, but then the sadness came over her again − she shuddered with cold and fear hearing the wailing of souls floating in the Styx, she glanced nervously in that direction, swallowing loudly.

"Are they suffering a lot? Can they be helped?" She whispered, and he hummed under his breath, walking beside her with his arms folded behind his back.

"They are paying for what they have done in their lifetime. Their merits and transgressions have been weighed by Temida, who has issued a judgment on them. There is nothing I can do." He admitted with a glance at her, and she lowered her gaze, looking down at her hands.

"Are you afraid of me?" He asked her at last, and she lifted her large, frightened eyes to him, her lips parted but no sound came from her throat. He pressed his lips together, feeling a sting in his chest.

He asked her if she was afraid of him after he had kidnapped her and held her against her will.

What did he expect?

The wrath of his brother and sister was quickly getting to him − her mother distraught at her disappearance had fallen into a state of utter agony, people were being starved to death by the land's failure to yield crops, there were more souls flowing in the Styx than he had ever seen in his centuries-long life.

He felt a kind of satisfaction when his brother descended into the underworld for the first time since time immemorial; he hated to think about dying and passing, and could not grasp the meaning of such a short life, knowing only the meaning of infinity himself.

He came out to meet him sitting proudly on his black marble throne, thousands of skulls at his feet.

For the first time he looked down on his brother, a gigantic cave all around them, Styx surrounding them on all sides except a small bridge.

"Brother. I warn you for the last time. If you don't give me my daughter..."

"Then what? I should take a wife at last – those are your words, aren't they?" He asked with a sneer, sitting stretched out comfortably in his seat.

"I want to see her." He demanded, and his lips tightened at his words. "Or I'll take her away from you myself and you'll never see her again."

"I poured water from my river into the honey she drank. Like any soul who has already bound herself to the underworld, she will not leave Hades without my permission." He said calmly, and his brother's face flushed red, his angry low voice echoing around him so that the ground shook around them.

"I WANT TO SEE HER!"

He hummed under his breath and nodded to his servant to bring her in.

His wife came out of her chamber a moment later − when she saw her father she immediately beamed, ran to him and threw herself into his arms.

He looked at them coolly, feeling his heart pounding fast, his stomach twisting with rage.

"My sweet daughter. Did he hurt you?" He asked as if the welfare of any woman mattered to him, as if he hadn't raped an endless number of innocent girls, forgetting them quickly because they were dying in what seemed to him to be just the blink of an eye.

He swallowed loudly when his Persephone shook her head, tightening her lips, lowering her head.

"He's good to me." She whispered and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain he had never known before.

His brother looked at him accusingly, trying to contain his aggressive, abrupt nature.

"People are suffering hunger because of you. Her mother has gone mad with despair, the flowers are not blooming, the grains are not yielding. Let them be together at least a few months of the year and I will recognise your marriage in the eyes of Olympus." He suggested, and he furrowed his brow.

"No." He hissed coldly, his gaze icy, piercing, furious, his hand clenched into a fist. "She is my wife. A wife's place is with her husband."

His brother moved in fury, wanting to lash out at him, the ground shook around them again, but his daughter's hand stopped him.

"Let us speak alone, father." She said softly; his brother backed away, panting heavily, his jaw clenched tight.

He hummed under his breath when he saw his wife move towards him, climbing the black, cold stone steps to finally stand before him − his brother snorted and turned, walking away, furious.

He looked up at his Persephone massaging his chin, delighted to see the outline of her body shapes beneath her thin white robe.

He shuddered and swallowed loudly, shocked as she sat on his lap, his manhood throbbed suddenly feeling her body so close, her fresh scent like a cool morning breeze.

"− husband −" She whispered with a soft click of her pink tongue, her hips innocently rubbing against his hardness, his body shivered at the sound of that word.

She had never called him that before.

She touched his cheek with her soft fingertips so gently, tenderly, slow strokes of her hips teasing him so innocently, that he parted his lips, breathing with increasing difficulty, his palms tightening on his cold stone armrests.

He could feel his length pulsing and swelling with every motion she made, he didn't understand what was happening to him.

He didn't stop her when she reached up to tie of his matte black robe, he drew in a loud breath and closed his eyelids when her delicate hand tentatively touched what was underneath.

"I am yours. I will give myself to you of my own free will." She whispered in a sweet, warm, trembling voice, her gaze misty, her lips full, swollen, red from emotion.

A quiet, low groan broke from his throat as he felt her hand direct the fat head of his manhood between her thighs with a gentle movement, he could see through the translucent material as she slowly began to sink him into her body.

He tilted his head back with quiet moan, licking his lower lip, feeling her hot, fleshy insides squeeze him wonderfully from all sides − she was surprisingly moist and warm, her core throbbing with arousal.

He felt her put her hands on his shoulders, lowering herself onto him with a loud, sweet gasp, her plump lips parted wide.

His hands involuntarily gripped her hips as she began to move, rising and falling against his length so painfully slowly that he had to close his eyelids shut, panting louder and louder along with her.

"– gods –" He exhaled with difficulty as she accelerated, the loud, sticky slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the dark cavern, his manhood throbbing and twitching inside her, all hard and swollen with pleasure.

Involuntarily, his cold fingers clenched on the hot skin of her hips − he rooted his manhood into her tight, moist insides with his desperate, pathetic thrusts, her sticky moisture dripping down her thighs.

"– for our marriage to be valid you must fill me with yourself, my husband –" She whispered, pressing her forehead against his, droplets of sweat glistening on her body like little diamonds, her sweet moans of pleasure, her slick walls sucking him inside made him loose his temper.

He gasped weakly at her words, he had never felt a woman's insides before, had never desired anyone before her.

He felt like his manhood was going to explode with desire and lust, his thrusts became faster and more brutal, her soft breasts bouncing in front of his face − he lifted his hand and squeezed it tentatively, a soft mewl of delight erupted from her throat.

"– Persephone –" He breathed out pleadingly, imploringly, and then she kissed him, her hot, swollen, moist lips clinging to his, cold, dead, the tips of their tongues licking each other.

"– please –" She mewled although he didn't know what she was actually asking him, and then he heard her cry loudly, as if surprised, her hot insides clenching against him greedily, her tongue deep in his throat.

He felt with each thrust of his hips that he was getting closer and closer to something he'd never experienced before in his life.

Fulfilment.

The wave of heat and pleasure, his seed that spilled inside her surprised him so much that his voice stuck in his throat, and then again and again a low, helpless groan broke from his mouth − both of them were panting as they looked at each other with their lips open wide, his hands clenched painfully tight on her hips.

"I'm yours." She whispered softly, sweetly − he was looking at her feeling only peace, only love. "I am only yours, so please, let me see her."

He felt the heat in his heart replaced by coldness, his brow furrowed in a sense of anger, of pain, of betrayal.

"No." He hissed, wanting to lift her up, but she shook her head, cupping his face in her warm, soft hands.

"I will never truly be your wife if you won't trust me. If I don't come back to you of my own free will." She said helplessly, pain, fear and suffering in her eyes again, his lips tightened into a thin line at her words.

"Nine months with my mother so I can enjoy the sun, and then three here, just with you, every night, every day, I swear." She whispered tenderly pressing her face against his cheek, her scent overpowering and stupefying him, her warm insides still pleasantly enveloping his already soft manhood.

He swallowed loudly at her words, his palms digging firmly into the soft skin of her thighs.

"You're lying. You will never come back to me." He hissed and groaned low when he felt her hips begin to move up and down again with a loud click of her wetness and his spend, his manhood pulsed involuntarily with pleasure, betraying him.

"I'll come back. I promise I'll come back."

As much as she wanted him to lead her away, he didn't want to watch her disappear beyond the borders of Hades never to return.

He didn't want to watch her run merrily towards the light, thanking the gods for his weakness and naivety, for how every woman in history had been able to exploit a man's desires.

He did not want her to see his expression, his suffering and all the other feelings he did not want to feel.

The day after she left, he went to her chamber and lay in her bedding, sinking his nose into her scent.

He found, with regret and pain, that with each passing month her scent grew fainter and fainter, her silhouette in his mind becoming more and more blurred, as if he had never really met her.

He touched himself thinking about her, experiencing both wonderful and painful fulfilment with the knowledge that he would never feel her again.

He preferred to explain to himself that it was just a dream.

That he had never met her.

He knew she would not return.

She would not return to her captor, to the man who had kept her in a dark underworld for months, deaf to her pleas and sobs, a man who was crippled, who was cold, frightening and empty.

Despite this, despite knowing it, when the day came he could think of nothing else − he watched as the sand shifted in the great hourglass constructed of bone and glass as he lay in his chamber, drinking wine, feeling like a demented madman, listening for her footsteps amidst the groans of the dead.

She did not come.

He stared at the empty hourglass, which turned and the sand began to shift again, counting down the time of the new day; he wondered how he could have been so naïve to wait.

For the first time in ages he felt an embarrassing, burning wetness under his eyelids − proof that he really loved her.

He shuddered when he heard the quiet rustling of robes − he glanced sideways and saw her standing in the doorway of his dark chamber, in her hair beautiful small yellow flowers, her face bright and warm.

She wore the gown he had given her, black, decorated with sun rays stones.

"My mother kept me. She couldn't let me go." She whispered, and he felt his throat tighten, his body freeze, unable to make a sound or make any movement.

He breathed hard, looking at her with wide eyes, his lower lip and hands trembling involuntarily as she approached him slowly, as her hands untied the bindings of his robe with a light, easy motion, revealing what was underneath, how much he wanted her, how much he waited for her.

"I have been counting down the days when I will see your face again." She whispered, running her fingers over his scarred cheek, sitting on top of him, gently taking his hard length in her palm, lowering herself onto the fat head of his cock as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

He wanted to tell her that he didn't believe her, but instead a surprised, throaty groan of pleasure burst from his mouth − he tilted his head back, panting loudly, his hips involuntarily beginning to root his manhood into her fleshy, moist insides, her hands clenched on his shoulders.

"– fuck –" He gasped out looking at her with his lips parted, synchronising his thrusts with the rhythm of her body − he swallowed loudly as she slid the material of her robe off her shoulders, exposing her soft, plump breasts to him.

"– touch me, husband –" She cooed, and he lifted himself, immediately pressed his lips to her breast, sucking on it greedily, licking and teasing her nipple with his tongue, all hard with desire.

She sank her fingers into his long white hair and pressed his face against her chest, rising and falling on top of him with a loud click of her moisture, moaning so sweetly and loudly that he felt like his manhood was about to explode.

"– were you touching yourself? – did you touch yourself when you weren't with your husband? –" He hissed out in a trembling voice between flicks of his tongue, she kissed his hair in an attempt to soften his question and her answer.

"– forgive me, husband – forgive me, I've missed you so terribly –" She mumbled helplessly as he ran his fingers down her hips, twisting with her so that she fell on her back.

He gripped her thighs in his hands, looking down at her − her face all red with exertion, her hair scattered in disarray around her head, her body all bare before him, hot, beautiful, his.

"– I think I should remind you to who this body belongs to –" He growled, ending his sentence with a deep, brutal thrust, a loud, surprised moan escaping from her throat.

"– you are mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– mine –"

Thrust.

"– repeat –"

"– I – I'm yours – I'm yours, forgive me, uncle –" She mumbled out with difficulty and drew in the air loudly as he spread her thighs shamelessly in front of him, looking down at the place where their bodies joined, her entrance clenching against him steadily, leaking with her wetness.

"– I forgive you, sweet wife –" He gasped, recognising this act of grace as an expression of his love and gratitude that she had not betrayed him, that she had returned, that he held her in his arms again.

"– I'll fill you with my seed and it'll be just as it should be –" He exhaled as he watched the perverse sight of their bodies slamming against each other with a loud slaps, his thrusts deep and sure, each time opening her wide on his thick, swollen cock.

He couldn't believe that she had come back to him, that he could smell her wonderful, floral scent again, that she was allowing him to possess her of her own free will.

Her fingers grasped his hand and sank it between her thighs − he felt her direct him to the small bud between her soft folds, she moaned when he touched her there.

"– here, husband – please –" She mewled and moaned loudly, throwing her head back as he began to rub her there, simultaneously caressing her inside and out, her core beginning to pulse greedily against him.

"– gods – stop clenching –" He exhaled with difficulty, rooting into her with quick, brutal thrusts of his hips, stretching her fleshy walls apart with the sticky click of her moisture.

He felt that if he went on like this he would simply come inside her, when he wanted to torment her, to prolong the moment of this immense pleasure and encounter after so many months.

"– I can't – I can't –" She sobbed loudly and he saw her fulfilment in all its glory, her hot, soft flesh went through convulsions, greedily sucking him inside, her lips parted wide in pleasure, her gaze misty and warm.

He cursed loudly, coming inside her so painfully hard that he clenched his eyes shut, panting loudly, rooting into her for a moment longer, the relief and delight that surged through his body was indescribable.

He looked at her beautiful face, her hands on either side of her head, her expression nothing but fulfilment and peace, her breathing uneven and ragged, her breasts rising and falling rapidly.

She looked up at him after a moment and smiled sleepily, raising her hand slowly − her soft fingertips ran over his scarred cheek and he closed his eyes, feeling pleasant, hot squeeze in his heart.

"What is my wife's name?" He asked in a whisper, kissing her warm, small hand, smelling of fresh grass and flowers. He heard her sigh sweetly at his question, her fingers sliding lower, running over his cold lips.

"Persephone."

_____

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thetriumphantpanda · 9 months

Text

Come Away With Me | Joel & Tommy Miller (Monday)

Summary | Day One of your trip to the lake house with Joel and you can't keep your hands off each other. It's all about making up for lost time.

Warnings | Fluff, 2(3?) lovesick fools, mentions of food and alcohol, explicit smut, breeding kink, oral sex (F & M Receiving), unprotected PiV sex (We can't all have a sexy Joel Miller to make us pregnant, please wrap it up), talk of UTI's (Honestly, not worth it, PEE AFTER SEX PLEASE), as always, Tommy kinda getting cucked and Joel just being Joel.

Word Count | 5.1K

Authors Note | The love that this series has received already, without me even posting a chapter has been overwhelming and I am so grateful to you all for being so enthusiastic about this. This little trio means more to me than you can ever imagine and I'm so incredibly happy to be able to bring them back to you. I would love to know what you think about this first instalment, so please leave your comments, reblogs and my ask box is always open if you want to scream about this with me. If you enjoyed this then please consider leaving me a tip on my Ko-Fi here.

SEASON TWO OF TRIAL & ERROR. Read the first instalment here (This probably won't make sense without it.)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You press a kiss to Joshua’s forehead as he keeps his hands around Tommy’s leg. He’s four now, toddling about, like a perfect little human, and still, whenever you see him, your chest swells with happiness and love in a way you didn’t think would still be possible.

“You be good for daddy, okay?” You smile, ruffling the hair on top of his head, before bending down to his height, opening your arms for him to fall into as he hugs you, “I’ll be back soon, I promise, and I’ll call every day.”

A whole week away from your baby boy was daunting. You don’t think you’ve ever spent longer than twenty-four hours without him, but you know he’s in good hands. His dad knows what he’s doing, you’re not worried.

Tommy has picked Joshua up into his arms, the little boy clutching onto the collar of his shirt as he leans down to lock his lips with yours. You smile into his kiss, letting your hands drop to his waist to pull him a little closer to you.

“You make sure you give the old man a run for his money, okay?” He smirks when he pulls away, hand running over your hair.

“He’ll wish he hadn’t come up with idea.” You whisper back, one last chaste kiss to Tommy’s lips and Joshua’s head.

“You ready?” Joel asks from across the truck, sliding into the driver’s side.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

Joel is nervous. He very rarely feels like this in his older age, especially when it comes to speaking to Tommy. They’ve grown up together, he basically helped raise him, had countless awkward conversations with him, including the one that got him here in the first place, waiting patiently for his birthday so he can steal away his girl and have one night with her all to himself, but he’s still nervous.

It's the end of summer, Sarah will be leaving for college in the next few days, dead set on becoming a doctor, so Joel’s decided the only way to celebrate his little girl going off and doing what neither he nor his brother could do, and to ease the impending loneliness he’s going to feel at having this big house all to himself, is a cookout. He’s fed everyone, spent time keeping Joshua amused so you and Tommy can eat in peace, and now, a few beers in, he thinks he’s ready.

He walks down to Tommy, who is cleaning the grill off, listening to the sounds of you and Sarah chasing Joshua around his garden, trying to tire him out. He puts his hand on Tommy’s shoulder and squeezes and they share a smile between them.

“You alright, brother?” Tommy asks, brushing down the last of the grill.

“I’m good,” Joel replies simply, “But I have something to ask you, a favour.”

“Anythin’ for you brother.” He smiles, setting down his cleaning tools and picking up his beer.

“I know we never discussed it, between us, but what happens between me and her, it makes me happy, y’know?”

Tommy’s smile gets bigger, and Joel knows that because it’s all his brother has ever wanted for him, to be happy, and he doesn’t think he’s ever been so grateful for the man in front of him.

“I know second time around it’s takin’ longer than we’d all like,” Joel sighs, you’d all been trying for months for the second baby – people had told you second time around was easier, but whoever decided that was a damn liar, “I just wondered, y’know, ‘cause she’s stressed and all, whether I could take her away?”

“Take her away?” Tommy asks, eyebrow cocked with his lips on the bottle of beer.

“Not from you,” Joel stutters, “Just for a week, somewhere quiet, I don’t know, the lake or somethin’, just see if her relaxin’ might help things.”

“Where were you thinkin’?” Tommy asks.

“I’ve been lookin’ and there are some nice places up in Colorado,” He rubs the back of his neck, not wanting to admit to his brother that he’s trawled the internet late at night trying to find somewhere he can afford, that in his mind he has it all planned out, “Close enough that we can get back if anything happens with Josh.”

“I don’t know that she’ll get the time from work, Joel,” Tommy sighs, “It ain’t that I don’t want her to go, I know she’d love the time away, but she’s pressed.”

Joel turns around and follows Tommy’s eyeline, you’re sitting on the grass with your back against the veranda, watching as Sarah plays with Joshua a little further away. Your head is leant back against the wood and Joel can tell you’re exhausted. A full time job, plus being a mother, whilst Joel’s got Tommy working longer and longer hours so they can finally get their business off the ground properly.

“When was the last time she was anythin’ but a mother?” Joel asks, turning back to his brother, “Come on brother,” He pleads, “We can give her a break, give her the chance to be just her again,” Then he decides to sweeten the deal, “I’ll even give you the week off work.”

“You really don’t have to beg me Joel,” Tommy insists with a smile, “If she can get the time off work, then you can have her.”

You’re three hours into the drive. Joel has insisted he can make it in one go, with a few comfort breaks on the way, despite it being a twelve-hour drive, but you’re not going to argue with him. He’s well and truly in charge this week and you’re more than happy to relinquish control to him. It’s nice, having someone else worry about you, whether you’ve got enough snacks to keep you going, whether you need to stop to use the bathroom, whether you need to close your eyes and take a nap, as opposed to you worrying about doing that for your son.

Joel is tapping his hands on the steering wheel. Sarah had made him a mixtape before she left, supposedly full of the songs they used to listen to in the car together, though you can’t imagine Joel had allowed much Taylor Swift judging by how fast he was to press skip when the familiar sounds of Teardrops On My Guitar started playing through the truck. He’s just finished singing along to Bon Jovi, a smile on his face as he looks at you.

“I love your voice,” You smile, running your fingers lightly up the arm that is resting near you, his warm palm on your thigh as he drives, “It’s not too late y’know, to make it big with your guitar.”

He snorts but with a smile on his face, “I was never any good at bein’ on stage, always got choked up and froze,” He turns his head to you a little, “I’m happy to just save my singin’ for you.”

The CD he’s got playing skips to the next song and the sounds of Destiny’s Child’s Survivor start filling the car. Joel is already moving to press skip so you grip hold of his wrist.

“Don’t you dare,” You warn, “This is such a good song.”

“Sweetheart, come on, you don’t really wanna listen to it.”

You chuckle at him, “You’ve listened to everything you wanted, just give me this one song.”

“If I’m lettin’ you listen to this,” He growls, “Then you’re gonna owe me.”

“Is that right?” You play coy, “And what do you deem suitable payment for a single Destiny’s Child song?”

You watch his face, still trained straight ahead on the highway, but with that smirk that you always love to see from him. It means he’s thinking something filthy and filthy Joel is something you simply cannot get enough of. You watch as his eyes meet yours momentarily and then drop to his lap. If you hadn’t been so focused on his face, you’d have missed it, but your eyes trail down his body where you can already see him growing in his jeans.

You lean back in your seat, nodding to yourself, “Joel Miller, grown man, wants me to suck his cock whilst he drives, just like a horny teenager.”

He brings a hand to the back of your neck and squeezes, trying to gently drag you forward, “I’ve waited a fuckin’ year to have you to myself, pretty girl,” He speaks lowly, “Didn’t think I was gonna wait for a bed, did you?”

You chuckle but move to undo your seatbelt. He keeps his hand resting on the back of your neck, but it’s gentle. He doesn’t pull you towards him, just waits for you to set your own pace. You reach across the console of the truck with your hand, palming him through his jeans, reveling in the way his head tips back and he lets a long sigh fall from his lips.

“You missed me, huh?” You tease, bringing your fingers up to the button on his jeans, you should have known he had something planned when he turned up without his belt on.

“You seriously askin’ me if I missed you?” He asks as you pop the button and drag his zipper down slowly.

You lean over, lips pressing a chaste kiss to the scruff on his jaw, “Boost my ego, Joel Miller,” You whisper into his ear as your hand sneaks underneath the waistband of his underwear, “Tell me how much you missed me.”

He lifts his hips for you a little so you can shuck his jeans down just enough to pull his cock out. You lean over, Joel’s wide palm still resting at the nape of your neck as you fist him, running your hand up and down his length. If you were a stronger woman you’d tease him, but you’re as desperate for him as he is for you, so you bring your mouth right to him, swirling your tongue over his tip, lapping up the drops of pre-cum that are waiting for you.

Your wrap your lips around him and swallow him down as far as you can take him without him hitting the back of your throat, using your hand to pump the length your mouth doesn’t reach, swirling your tongue around him as you pull your mouth back up.

“God fuckin’ damn, babygirl,” Joel groans above you, hand tangling in your hair as you continue to bob your head up and down on him, “You’ve done this before.”

It strikes you in this moment that in the four or so years you and Joel have been together like this, he’s never once let you put your mouth on him like this. Before Joshua, he had always been hyper focused on your pleasure, whether you felt good, and in the years since, in those few short hours you had together, he’d never once asked for it, had stopped you when you tried, he’d only ever come for you when he was fucking you.

You sneak your hand lower, cupping his heavy balls in the palm of your hand as you take him further down your throat. The added sensation of your hand has him bucking his hips up into your mouth enough that you have to pull away from him, coughing and spluttering.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” He worries, taking his hand from your head, “Are you okay?”

“Focus on the road, Miller,” You demand, moving to get right back down to business, “If I choke to death on your cock that’s my business.”

“Kinda hard to focus on the road when I’m seconds away from filling your mouth, pretty girl.” You can hear the strain in his voice as you start working his cock again, pulling off only long enough to reply.

“That’s what I want,” You whisper, “You gonna come down my throat Joel?”

“That what you want?” He grunts from above you.

“Wanna taste you.”

“Well pretty girl, you just keep goin’ and I’ll give you what you want.”

He stays true to his word, and after a few short minutes, he’s gripping a fistful of your hair, breathing your name out, as his cum spreads across your tongue. Salty, masculine, musky, but distinctly Joel, and you think from this moment on you might be hooked on the taste of him.

You pull back up, sitting back in your seat, Joel turning his head to watch you as you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out just enough to show him what he’s given you. Then, you close your mouth and swallow every last drop, wiping the small amount that had gathered in the corner of your lips back into your mouth.

“Jesus,” Joel breathes, “You’re somethin’ else, baby.”

It’s late evening by the time you and Joel arrive at the lake house. It’s dark so you can’t properly take in your surroundings, but it’s peaceful and quiet, and when you step out of the truck, it smells different. The smell of pine and fresh water fills your senses and it’s at this moment you realise you really needed this – a break away from the suburbs and the city you’re so used to.

You make a simple dinner of chicken and roasted vegetables, washed down with lukewarm beer that hadn’t had a chance to properly chill. Joel insists on doing the dishes, silently cursing he didn’t pick a cabin with a dishwasher. The more time he has to spend washing up, the less time he can spend buried deep inside you, which is what he wants most right now. He’s hungrier for you than he’s ever been, you having refused his offer to pull off the highway so he could return the favour earlier.

You’ve taken two fresh beers from the fridge outside with you. He can see you sitting on the small swing seat on the porch, taking small sips of your drink as you wait for him. You’re on the phone to Tommy, letting him know you arrived safely and then he can hear your voice change as you speak to Joshua – more high-pitched than normal. The conversation doesn’t last long, Tommy clearly needing to put Joshua down to sleep, so you’re hanging up the phone in no time. He notices you shiver through the window, so he digs out one of his flannels from his bag that hasn’t made it to the bedroom and takes it out with him, draping it across your shoulders. He takes a seat next to you, his thigh touching yours, as you hand him his beer.

“I bet this view will be beautiful tomorrow.” You muse, taking another sip of your drink.

“I don’t know,” He speaks back softly, looking at you, “It’s pretty perfect to me already.”

You can feel your face grow hot at the compliment, but you smile. Joel drapes his arm across the back of the bench, and you automatically shuffle in closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder as his hand trails up and down your arm.

“So, how have you really been in that house without Sarah these past few weeks?” You ask, hand coming to rest on his thigh.

“It’s been strange,” He answers honestly, “But I’m so proud of her, my little girl training to be a doctor.”

Your heart swells because you’re pretty fucking proud of her as well. She’d worked so hard to get into medical school the past few years, finally settling on what it was that she wanted to do, and you have no doubt that she’s going to find some incredible medical breakthrough during her career.

“Still don’t know where she got her brains from,” He grumbles, “Sure as hell ain’t from the side me and Tommy got ours.”

You swat your hand to his thigh, “What have I told you about being kind to yourself?” You chastise, earning a low laugh from him, “Don’t sell yourself short, you started your own business Joel, not everyone can do that.”

He nods, but you think it’s more to placate you than understanding his worth, but you decide to let it lie, “You know, she’s not far from here,” You offer, “If you wanted, you could go and see her.”

“I’d like that,” He smiles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ll call her tomorrow, gonna have to think of a white lie as to why I’m all the way out here though.”

“I’m sure if we put our heads together, we can think of something.”

It’s silent for a while between you. Listening to the wind rustle the leaves on the trees is soothing. Pair that with Joel’s gentle tracing up and down your arm, and the way he’s slowly rocking the swing with his foot on the ground, and you’re almost ready to fall asleep.

“Hey Joel,” You whisper, leaning your head up towards him, he answers with a hum of acknowledgement, “You wanna take me to bed?”

He leans down, pressing his lips softly to your own, “I thought you’d never ask.”

You stand, extending your hand to his, which he takes, letting you lead him back inside. Because he’s used to it, the routine of checking the locks at home, he makes sure he double checks all the doors are locked before letting you take hold of his hand again and lead him down the small hallway, into the master bedroom at the end.

The bed is huge, white sheets resting on top, with plump pillows at the end. If it wasn’t for Joel’s hands on your hips and his lips on your neck, you’d be focused on falling into it and going straight to sleep. He’s walking you forward, trailing wet kisses down the expanse of your neck, then he turns you once your knees hit the foot of the bed.

He brings his palms to your face, cradling it in his hands as he leans down, pressing those soft, plush lips to your own. You bring your arms to wrap around his shoulders, pressing yourself up on your tiptoes as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling your body flush to his broad frame as he opens his mouth, tongue licking into your own mouth as he deepens your kiss. It’s the first time he’s kissed you since last year, both of you having some form of silent agreement with each other that Tommy doesn’t need to see that. He see’s everything else you do when you’re together, when he’s watching his brother fill you up, this here, when Joel kisses the very breath from your lungs, this is just for the two of you.

With his mouth still latched to yours, he uses his hands to push his flannel from your shoulders, before he reaches down and tugs your own shirt from where it was tucked into your jeans. He takes his time, unbuttoning it one notch at a time, until that too is pushed from your shoulders. You don’t even realise he’s undone the button on your jeans until he’s pushing them down your hips – too focused on the way his mouth tastes.

“Sit down, pretty girl,” He whispers, dropping to his knees, “Been drivin’ me wild all day,” His hands trail up your legs, parting them in front of his face when you perch on the edge of the bed, “Thinkin’ about you all wet down here, after you sucked my cock.”

He runs his thumb over the front of your panties, tracing the seam of your pussy, which has indeed been completely soaked for him since you sucked him off. He presses his mouth, wet and hot, against the delicate skin of your thigh as you let your head drop back and a sigh to escape your mouth. His mouth comes to rest between the crook of your thigh, where the seam of your underwear is, and you think he might just pull them to the side and give you what you want, but instead, he starts a trail of kisses from the opposite knee, moving slowly up your other thigh until you’re squirming for him.

“Don’t tease me,” You beg, running a hand through the curls on his head, “Make me feel good, Joel.”

“This what you want, pretty girl?” He asks, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, dragging them off you when you lift yourself off the bed a little, “Want my mouth here?”

His thumb runs up the seam of your pussy, the friction without the barrier of your panties delicious now. You spread your legs for him, heels resting on the bottom of the bed, baring your spread, aching cunt for him. His palms are resting on the inner part of your thighs now as he leans in, lips pressing a single chaste kiss to your clit.

“Fuck,” You breathe out, chasing the feel of his lips as he pulls away, you almost whine until you feel him push one of his delightfully thick fingers straight into your weeping pussy, “Fuck Joel, holy shit.”

He’s grinning up at you like the devil when you look down, pulling his finger out all the way before slipping it into his mouth to clean it off, “You been this wet all day?” He asks, thumb moving to gather the slick at your entrance to drag to your clit, moving in featherlight movements.

“Y-yes,” You manage to choke out, “This is what you do to me.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead, he puts his face right back where you want it, tongue licking a firm, wide strip from your weeping hole and up to your clit, using the tip of his tongue to place precise flicks on your swollen bundle of nerves. He’s so fucking good with his mouth it actually hurts. He’s managed to learn exactly how you like it, what combination of moves with his mouth and the addition of his fingers bring you over the edge the fastest and that’s exactly what he’s doing right now. He slips two of his fingers back inside you, curling them straight up into that spot within you that makes you cry, lips sucking your clit into his mouth whilst his tongue still moves perfectly across you.

“God fucking damn it, Joel,” You cry, fingers tugging at his hair as you push your pussy closer to his face, “Gonna make me come.”

He doesn’t bother to pull his mouth away from you to tell you it’s okay like he usually does, just continues the movements just as they are until your crying his name out, the rope that was pulled taught inside you snapping as your pussy clenches around Joel’s fingers and you come so hard your vision blacks out for a moment.

You collapse down onto the bed, arms no longer able to hold you up as Joel takes his mouth from your clit, gently pulling his fingers from you. Without needing to be asked, you scoot up the bed, letting air fill your lungs. Your eyes are trained on Joel as he starts to undress in front of you, smirking at you when he drags his shirt over his head.

“You should charge people for this,” You mumble, “Sure a lot of ladies would pay good money to watch you strip.”

“Like this?” He chuckles, slowly undoing the button of his jeans, dragging the zipper down painfully slow as you start humming, encouraging him to really put on a show, “Zip it.” He laughs, pushing his jeans down his legs, his cock hard and pressing against the thin material of his boxers.

He shucks them off his body as well and you watch, captivated as he fists his cock, he is, next to his brother, one of the most beautiful men you’ve ever seen.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, Joel Miller,” You breathe out as he clambers onto the bed, pulling you up slightly so he can take your bra off, “Do you know that?”

His mouth is pressing kisses between your breasts, letting his teeth nibble small marks across your chest before he takes one of your nipples in his mouth. You can feel his cock pressing between your folds, running up and down your pussy as he settles properly between your thighs. You run your hand through his hair as he trails his lips up to your face, peppering your jaw with kisses.

“Can’t say I’ve been told much,” He whispers into your ear, “But I’ll take it.”

You can feel him reach between you, base of his cock in his hand as he brings the tip to your slick cunt. He thrusts forward just a touch, giving you the tip, lips settling onto your own so he can swallow the small moans you let out as he inches deeper and deeper into you until he bottoms out. You shift your hips underneath him, legs hitching around his waist.

“Baby please,” He pleads, “You gotta give me a second,” His head dropping to the crook of your neck, “Fuck, how does it always feel like I’m fucking you for the first time?”

You want to give him all the time in the world but you’re just as bad as he is. He needs to move, and he needs to move now otherwise you think you might actually die.

“Please Joel,” You moan, rolling your hips up into his, hand still firmly tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, “You need to move.”

“I ain’t gonna last, babygirl.” He groans as he pulls himself out and slams back into you.

“Don’t care,” You moan as his lips attach themselves to your throat, “Just need to feel you.”

He moves, placing his hands on either side of your head, pushing himself up, as he drags his cock from your tight heat and starts thrusting properly. You’ve had this man more times than you can count, two or three times a month for the past six months whilst you try for your second baby, but the way he feels inside of you never fails to set your body on fire.

He’s always so big, and you feel so fucking full of him. You close your eyes and tilt your head back further into the mattress as he drives himself deeper into you, head of his cock brushing against your cervix. It’s pain and pleasure, it’s too much and not enough all at the same time. He makes you stupid when he fucks you like this. Focused on one thing, and one thing only.

One of his hands clutches your chin, his voice hoarse with pleasure, “Look at me,” He demands, “Give me those beautiful eyes when I fuck you.”

You do as you’re told, eyes opening and staring into his own chocolate orbs that are dark with lust. God, you love him. You know you shouldn’t love him this much, it’s dangerous, but he’s so fucking good to you, you can’t help yourself.

“Good girl,” He praises, making your pussy clench around him, “Doin’ what you’re told, you’re so good for me, aren’t you?”

“So good Joel,” You moan, fingers gripping the meat of his biceps as you hold onto him, hips rolling up to meet his with every thrust, “Want you to come for me.”

“Yeah, want me to fill you up, pretty girl?”

“Yes Joel!” You cry, “Fill me up baby, please.”

His hips start to falter from their precise thrusts of before, he’s so fucking close, you can see it on his face, hear it in his growls. He dips his head back to the crook of your neck, teeth nipping along your collarbones as he pounds into you. He lets out one long moan of your name as he stills inside you, and you can feel the familiar warmth of his cum filling you up. He brings one of his hands down to cup your ass, lifting you up a little, as if he thinks the angle of your pelvis makes much of a difference when it comes to getting you pregnant.

He groans into your neck as he slips out of you, letting your hips finally drop to the bed as he rolls off you, collapsing in a heap beside you as he catches his breath. You lean over, kiss pressed to his cheek with a mumble that you’ll be back in a minute once you’ve cleaned up, the pain of last month’s UTI still fresh in your mind after you fell asleep without going to the bathroom.

When you return, two glasses of water in hand, he’s already pulled back the sheets and has settled himself back against the pillows. You hand him his glass, setting yours on the nightstand as you climb into bed, settling your aching bones against your own pillow when you realise this is uncharted territory with you and Joel. When you spend your one night with him, neither of you sleep – you spend as much time as you can connected, making each other feel good, and when he’s with you outside of that, with Tommy watching, or joining in, whichever he feels like doing that night, he’s always gone in a flash. You’ve never settled down to sleep next to him, you don’t know if he snores, you don’t know if he wants you to cuddle into his side and drift off to sleep together.

“Stop thinkin’,” He sighs, “And c’mere.”

You smile, crawling over the space between you as he moves his body down to lie flat on his back. You drape one of your arms over his tummy as his wraps around your shoulder, the other resting on your arm wrapped around him. You bring your leg up to wrap between his and let out a sigh.

“You have no idea how much I’ve always wanted this,” He whispers quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, “Somethin’ so simple as fallin’ asleep with you.”

You hum against his warm skin, letting the thumb that’s resting on his tummy start rubbing small circles on his skin, “It’s nice,” You speak, punctuating it with a yawn, “Hope you don’t snore though.”

His chest rising with a chuckle as he pulls you tighter to his body, “Go to sleep, babygirl,” He speaks quietly, “I’m gonna wear you out tomorrow.”

You don’t know whether he’s referring to the hike he wanted to take you on through the mountains, or the fact that you both know what you’re really here for. Is he going to keep you right here on this mattress all day, filling you up until you can’t take it anymore? Either way, being here with Joel has already been the ointment you needed for your stress. Your shoulders are more relaxed, and you don’t have the headache you usually do at the end of the day from gritting your teeth. Whatever he’s got planned, you’re going to take it, and for now, you’re going to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach that this time, though longer than you ever get, is still fleeting. You can worry about that another day.

Taglist: @morning-star-joy @sinsofsummers @dinsdjrn @cavillscurls @cupofjoel @tightjeansjavi @kaitangatatacos @paleidiot

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starry-bi-sky · 3 months

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miscellaneous danyal al ghul things

specifically about the danyal al ghul from my post/prompt here and i wanna get my misc. headcanons/thoughts on him (especially in his early stay with the fentons) out here before i make any other danyal al ghul aus

list under the cut because whoops this got longer than i expected. which really i should have expected

the Fentons are unaffiliated with the League, which was perfect for Danny faking his death.

he struggles with empathy. Empathy was not taught nor encouraged while he was with the League, so it's a skill that's been pretty stunted. At 15 he's better at empathizing with people, but he still struggles with it. He's pretty bad at reassuring/comforting people and usually acts as an emotional rubber duck for Sam and Tucker to vent to if need be. He sometimes offers blunt and sometimes mean opinions, especially if its about another person.

Sam and Tucker do not know he's an ex-assassin, they are however, pretty positive that he used to be part of an eco-fascist cult with a focus on martial arts?? They've been helping him tone down some of his more,,, extreme views on humanity ever since they caught wind of his more extreme ideologies.

He and Sam are still avid environmentalists and feed into each other quite a bit. They spend plenty of time at protests and pestering the school into more eco-friendly options.

Dash is not dead on the sole fact that Danny knew he had to lay low in Amity Park and killing someone was not, in fact, 'laying low'.

he did, however, traumatize him when Dash first tried to bully him. Safe to say, Danny is not bullied at school and neither are Sam and Tucker.

Danny didn't make any friends in his first year at Amity Park. He was surly, grumpy, standoffish, more stubborn than Sam, and pretty self-important about himself. Jazz was trying to teach him against these things, but she is a 12 year old unaffiliated with the League. Danny did not respect her nor listen to a word she said. It wasn't until like, year two that he finally started paying to mind what she was saying and slowly started to improve on himself

Sam approached him first, he rebuffed her quite harshly, and then Danny approached her sometime afterward when he overheard her talking about environmental rights. Sam completely ignored him though when he agreed with her, and Danny had to later learn that he needed to apologize for being rude to her when they first met. He did so eventually, and they started to talk more with Tucker and Sam.

Danny's a bit more reserved than he is in canon, although he steadily learns how to act as a regular teenager when he's out in public. He's a bit more friendlier at least, although when he's around Sam and Tucker he drops the act. He still has a somewhat formal way of talking, it's just become more casual after a lot of ribbing from Sam and Tucker. When he's angry or annoyed he starts talking poshly though.

His humor is relatively the same as in canon, if somehow dryer and more insulting at some points

Those rare moments where he gets really pissed usually ends up with him insulting someone in arabic or any of the other languages he picked up from the league. He is the go-to for Tucker's Spanish homework. (Tucker makes that mistake and learns that Danny is a very strict teacher)

while Danny doesn't view the Fentons as his parents, even five years after living with them, he does respect them to some amount. He respects them enough at least that when Vlad Masters comes sniffing around, he is suitably offended on both Maddie and Jack's behalf. And when he finds out Vlad was the one who tried to kill Jack and tried to tell him to renounce him as his father/parental guardian, danny threw a suitably sharp object at him and insulted him quite horrendously

Vlad still wants him as his kid. In fact perhaps even moreso after this.

Danny trains with Maddie to keep up with his training. It's not quite the same but it prevents him from getting completely rusty

Sam and Tucker know that Danny has a little brother, but nothing else beyond that other than Danny cares about him quite a lot and that he got his facial scar from keeping him safe.

Danny cares about Sam, Tucker, and Jazz quite a bit, but he struggles to convey it. Especially early on when he realized he cared about them and like instinct started being harsher to them and more critical of their actions. This resulted in quite a few arguments with Sam and Tucker and Jazz until he got sat down and told outright that the way he was treating them wasn't okay. It's a process he's still trying to unlearn even at 15. He has become kinder towards them as a result, and has begun looking for what they did right rather than what they did wrong.

He harbors a lot of guilt over how he treated Damian in the League, and its a pretty big conflict he has with himself since he's torn between telling himself it was for the best to make sure Damian survived the League, and feeling like crap over how harsh/critical of Damian he was and realizing that he probably could have come up with a better way of training him despite being a child himself at the time. Danny comes to the realization that more than anything, that he just wants to apologize.

His ghost form, specifically is outfit, is a combination of his hazmat suit and his uniform from the league, and he carries a sword with him. He also doesn't know how to react to Dani, honestly. Although it is fair to say that he figures out she's a clone instantly because of her whole 'I'm your third cousin once removed' thing and he freaks out. She spills the beans pretty quickly after that. And Danny is pretty skittish around her - or the equivalent of skittish. Her being younger than him kinda reminds him of Damian, so he's uncomfortable by her presence but learns to warm up to her.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc headcanons #dp x dc headcanons #danyal al ghul: exists #me: lets give him emotional constipation :) as a treat #older brother danny #sam+tucker: dude... were you part of a cult???? danny: excuse me? sam+tucker: were you. part of a cult #danny: it was not a *cult--* sam+tucker: oh my god you were part of a cult. that explains sO MUCH #danny is pr morally grey even at 15. he's starting to get the hang of this 'human life' thing though! he thinks.#but he is still the embodiment of that tiktok audio 'why dont we just kill these fucking people' even if he keeps it to himself sometimes #sam+tucker+jazz: dont litter danny: yes of course thats obvious s+t+j: okay then dont *kill* danny: now you've lost me #danny nearly stabbed dash when they first met. more accurately he nearly took off his finger like the train scene from the mummy movie 2 #with alex and that big guard guy who stabbed the table in between his fingers. “woah.” “Tt. i missed”#late night starry posts #not proof read and thus there will prolly be mistakes

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radioactivesweet · 1 year

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Ok hear me out, what about moon god s/o x Poseidon, its been itching my mind cause of the sea x moon troupe.

What i imagine is, s/o being a powerful god like nyx but rarely appears so only a few gods know or saw them so Poseidon became curious about this mysterious (beautiful) god. Feel free to add more about this!! im just really craving for someone to write this 🥹

Uhhh I like this concept a lot!! I tried to keep the reader's gender kinda neutral, I hope it's fine^^ btw I really enjoyed writing this!

word count: 1.2k

Poseidon often found himself staring at the moon. He couldn't really explain why he would do that - not that anybody would dare asking the God of the Sea what he was doing. Unbothered, Poseidon would stand silenty on the ivory balcony, looking up to that apparently endless sky. Even for someone like him that domain appeared far and full of mystery.

It was a dark night, its only beam being the peaceful and perlescent light emanated by the sleeping moon. He was once told that a god inhabited the moon, far from all other living beings. It wasn't known the reason why the deity ended up there, observing humankind from the satellite. Some believed they refused to get involved with human affairs and chose to live as a hermit instead; others claimed the god was exiled and was cursed to live on their own, bound to live in loneliness; some believed that god to have died long ago, the moonlight being their only inheritance, the memento of a god who existed no more, the reminder of a otherwise forgotten past.

Poseidon, everytime he would look at the moon, would wonder the real story behind it. None of the moon goddesses he knew could give him a response, despite asking themselves the same question - with whom were they sharing their moon? A god, a ghost or nothing at all?

Not knowing made the God of the Sea restless. He wasn't supposed to be this ignorant - it was his duty and right to know the truth. Yet, all he knew didn't make sense to him at all. He couldn't find a reason why a god would choose to abandon their place a seek shelter on the moon; if a deity was trapped on the moon, he would have surely heard of it somehow. It wouldn't have been just a rumour; lastly, gods weren't meant to die, it wasn't their nature. They didn't have an expire date nor any time limits, so it was impossible to begin with. If there really were someone looking down on him from the moon, Poseidon would discover it.

Poseidon spent that whole night reading books and looking for information regarding the legends surrounding that mysterious and mystical figure. There weren't many references and he couldn't even find the name of that god, yet there were reported some events which most likely involved them. A beautiful deity whose melancholic face was reflected on the moon on certain nights, someone wearing a silvery armor while riding a shining chariot across the sky. Also, a powerful god who could conceal the sun and the earth. A god capable of moving the stars and making humans into constellations. A god who could flex the tides to their own amusement - which meant disturbing the God of the Sea too - the moon phases and the sea had always been strictly connected to one another, but the thought of someone directly interefering had never crossed his mind. An ancient deity whose name had been long forgotten and all traces canceled, no statues nor temples left, their believers long dead and turned to ashes.

Poseidon was intrigued to say the least. He couldn't recall even if tried the last time he had felt so interested in someone - maybe last time was when he recognised Hades as his brother thousands of years before? He didn't remember anymore, and it didn't really matter to him neither.

Rumours spreaded fast across the Heavens. It was a matter of days before everybody knew what the lonesome Poseidon was looking for, yet nobody dared approaching him nor suggesting him the information that could have helped him reach his objective. Yet, everybody was curious as to why he was interested in that legend in the first place. Poseidon was used to those lower deities' gossips, so he didn't pay them much care, they were nothing more than a bother and wasn't expecting them to act some other way. He was more interested in what certain gods had to say.

Zeus, despite his prestige, knew no more than him but reccomended talking with the goddess Nyx, whom he was afraid of, much more ancient than he was. Hades and Hermes agreed with Zeus and added some rumours that had been circulating for ages in the Underworld regarding a moon deity who lead the souls of the dead to Hades' domain. Beelzebub clearly remembered studying moon's phenoma and seeing that legendary face. They didn't ask him the reason why he was looking for the god. He wouldn't have answered anyway. Without a single word, he left, approaching his next destination, the goddess all gods feared: Nyx.

He respected the goddess, recognising her value and strenght, but didn't understand the reason why even the almighty Zeus feared - he could only suppose it must have been because of one of his many affairs that didn't end the way Zeus imagined. Poseidon didn't have anything to do with that though, therefore had no reason to fear her.

Nyx knew it all, the story of the human who ascended to the skies and then flew even higher above. That god's name was (Y/n), the vagabond of the stars, the hermit who found a home in the dim light of the moon. Poseidon was satisfied by the answers he had finally found - and a way to reach the moon itself. He was close to his goal.

He had finally landed on the moon. Poseidon had never been there before. It was the first time he got to see the sea he ruled from that perspective. It was a foreign feeling to him. He could almost understand the reason why humans tried so hard to leave Earth and reach the space - it was undescribable. He couldn't even blame (Y/n) for hiding in that timeless place. Poseidon felt as he could touch the stars if he only wanted to. And he was just about to do it, if only a sudden voice hadn't interrupted him.

"I've heard someone was looking for me. I don't receive many guests, so I suppose you must be that person." it was quite, almost a whisper. It didn't surprise Poseidon. (T/n) mustn't have had someone to talk to in a long time.

"You are Poseidon, aren't you? You often stare at the moon, I noticed it." a voice comparable to the music of the spheres, the musica universalis, the harmony between the celestial bodies.

(Y/n) seemed to have no material consistence, one with the stars and the deep blue sky surround them, floating on the ground, detached from the earthly beings. Poseidon almost felt unworthy of being before someone surrounded by such a, otherwordly aura, belonging to a different dimension. On the other hand, he was attracted by that holy creature.

"You are welcome here, God of the Seas." almost as if they had read his mind, (Y/n) reassured him "We all belong to the moon, all beings are made of the same stardust. There are no differences between us."

For once, Poseidon, enchanted and bewitched, couldn't reply. He was part of that symphony too - he could feel it resonating deep into his bones.

The everlasting sea below him, the everlasting stars above him. Poseidon felt whole for the first time in his equally everlasting life.

#record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #ror #record of ragnarok x reader #snv #ror x reader #snv x reader #shuumatsu no valkyrie x reader #shuumatsu no walkure #poseidon #poseidon x reader #record of ragnarok poseidon #shuumatsu no valkyrie poseidon #snv poseidon #poseidon record of ragnarok #poseidon ror

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