#its hard but it sounds good and I like the way I sound

[storiesoflilies]

crimson reverie

synopsis: the gods had forbidden him from her, but they could not stop her from following the trail of pomegranate seeds that led her straight to him. w.c: 13k

pairing: hades!ryomen sukuna x persephone!f!reader.

warnings: trueform!sukuna. descriptions of bruising and choking (not the good kind). mentions of smut and greek mythology incest. sfw, but MDNI!

a/n: this piece was requested by the lovely @pinknipszz ! i want to thank my darling @neptuneblue for beta reading, and also to those who donated (@ficsforgaza) towards this fic!! you’re all very loved <3 (ao3)

it was spring, and everything was golden.

from the barley stalks swaying in the gentle breeze, their prickly feather heads tickling her as persephone ran her hands through them, to the light of helios’ sun as it made its way across the sky, to the dripping honeycomb offerings left for her at the edge of the fields from the local villagers.

life was golden, iridescent, and precious, and it was good.

birds chittered in the trees, and the smell of freshly churned soil and evening jasmine wafted through the air. it was the end of a hard day’s work for persephone, and though there was still much more to be done for the mortals that lived in this remote area, that was a task for tomorrow. for now, all she wanted was to do as she pleased.

and that was to wander through her meadows of narcissus flowers, bathe in freshwater pools of starlight, and feast on pomegranates while she rested beneath the trees that bore them. she would sleep underneath those very trees, with moonlight shining through the gaps in the leaves, tenderly kissing her brow. her meadow was her haven, on the edge of a deep, green forest, where only her playful little nymphs kept her company.

even now, persephone could hear the sweet moans of their lovemaking carried along the breeze, and she sighed in exasperation. she knew they would only reach out to her with sticky fingers and sparkling adoration, begging her to join them. they craved her so badly, yearning to offer her a different sort of ecstasy that nature could not, but persephone would not join them. she never would, for her mother demeter had forbidden her from ever corrupting her purity and from doing anything that might throw her virtue into question.

persephone was to remain a beautiful blossom that could only be gazed upon, but never ever touched.

and so, she avoided the shaded part of the meadow that met the outskirts of the forest, where the nymphs loved to congregate, and went to her favorite pomegranate tree where she would not be disturbed. persephone crouched down underneath her tree, stretching out like a feline catching the last warm rays of the day on its belly, saccharine and ostentatiously content. a light doze fell upon her quickly, her breaths coming out in light puffs, with the sounds of the birds twittering her a lullaby.

“dearest daughter, how lazy you are, napping at this hour when it is not even nightfall!”

her eyelids fluttered open as the golden light behind them turned black, the sunlight blocked by the overarching figure of her mother. with her rose-bloom shoulder, hulking figure intertwined with vines and branches, and a voice only audible through the mind, demeter inspired more fear in mortals than she should have. to them, she was a great and terrible protector of nature, and this greatly saddened persephone.

in her eyes, her dearest mother, known only to her as hanami, would always be beautiful and tender.

“i think it’s warranted after a hard days work, mother,” persephone yawned, sitting up and stretching her arms over her head.

hanami tilted her head in amusement, tiny red rose petals falling as she did so. “your humble work tires you greatly. your power has not grown as i expected it to in the time since i last visited you.”

persephone pursed her lips, avoiding direct eye contact with her mother, and replied with a stiff jaw, “it is has grown, mother. but there are many poor mortals living in these villages. hundreds of their fields need to be nurtured with my touch, otherwise they will not grow.”

she didn’t think her mother understood. demeter only cultivated the holy nature of the gods, the grand gardens of greek royalty, while persephone travelled far and wide across greece to ensure even the most remote places had a bountiful harvest. so that even the poorest of worshippers went about their lives content with full bellies and golden fields of barley. persephone knew that the other gods looked down on her, sometimes even hanami, thinking that all she would ever surmount to was a nymph tending to the flower beds of peasants.

her mother wanted to uphold that lowly picture of her beloved daughter, to avoid the attention of the other gods, and persephone accepted it. but if demeter didn’t understand that there was good, honest work to be done ensuring the welfare of lesser mortals, then persephone would still continue with the duty she had charged herself with regardless.

and so, she avoided her mother’s sharp gaze, lest she would see the spark of defiance in her eyes. a defiance for the confines of the cage that was her mothers love, and it seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day.

persephone felt demeter’s heavy hand on her head, its weight almost too rough as she stroked her affectionately. her mother’s chuckle reverberated through her head. “perhaps one day you will eventually be nearly as strong as i, my blossom, so you may continue to rest. i will not disturb your peace any longer.”

her defiance crumbled, and she felt guilty, because her mother did love her despite everything. “oh mother, you could never disturb my peace.”

a loud cry of ecstasy came from a distance, and hanami looked up, her lip curling in displeasure. “you’re too sweet, persephone. but rest well, and do not let the nymphs come anywhere near you tonight.”

persephone watched on as her mother called upon her nature, her fingers bending and beckoning the vines and narcissus as if they were long-lost lovers. within a moment, demeter was enveloped in a blanket of green and white, with only her face and neck visible.

“your father misses you, you know?” hanami murmured, almost fearfully. “he wishes to see you.”

her father zeus, satoru gojo as he was called by his brothers and sisters, was as unpredictable as the lightning he wielded with his bare hands. they were all at the mercy of his passing whims, something her mother knew well, as persephone was the product of one of his said whims. demeter tried to keep them both apart as much as possible, because she knew she could not keep satoru from having persephone if his attention settled on her for too long.

however, she also could not outright refuse the king of the gods either.

“then i shall see him,” persephone sighed. “i will go to olympus.”

“we shall go, my blossom. i would not let you face him alone. i will come for you in a fortnight, so be ready.”

and with that, demeter disappeared. persephone sighed loudly, slumping back onto the grass. although demeter held no ill will towards her brother, she understood that the gods were not like mortals, especially zeus, and did not bind or limit themselves to their marriage vows – much to hera’s rage for zeus’ many lovers. she had passed this sentiment on to her daughter many times, despite being an olympian herself.

“the gods of olympus are fickle, ever-changing, and that in itself is predictable. never stay in their company for too long.”

persephone never liked to visit olympus anyway. the gods were so very loud, ostentatious, and always bragging about the legendary achievements of themselves and their offspring. moreover, while her mothers love was endearing, it was also suffocating at the best of times. she knew demeter was always watching her every move with eagle eyes, daring any of the gods to try and come near her daughter.

save for artemis, her dearest maki, nobody else was allowed to say more than a few words to persephone.

she sighed dejectedly once more and turned over, plucking a particularly beautiful narcissus flower from beside her. with a long, slender stem, its orange center surrounded by snowy white petals, persephone admired its beauty as she leaned her back against the trunk of her pomegranate tree.

“mother will see sense one day,” she hummed, musingly, as she plucked a petal from the flower. “that i will become a goddess worthy of olympus, and do not need her protection.”

another petal plucked. “she won’t ever, and will hover over me for eternity.”

pluck!

“she will.”

pluck!

“she won’t.”

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

it was close to midnight, and persephone could not sleep.

she spent what seemed like an age staring up at the moon, committing all of its ridges and craters to memory. if she squinted hard enough, she could make out selene’s silver and pearl chariot pulling it across the sky, her pale white horses snorting and charging through the stars of the night. beside her, the nymphs softly sighed and turned in their sleep, their nimble legs and arms entangled with each other, embracing persephone in a comforting hug to try and lull her to sleep. but it hadn’t worked this time; there was too much on her mind.

it had been ten days since she last seen her mother, and persephone’s nerves were becoming more frayed by the minute. in her meager three centuries of living, demeter had never once been hesitant about her meeting zeus. something must have changed, but what exactly, she couldn’t guess.

persephone felt a flush of warmth, the nymphs’ heat suddenly becoming too much for her to bear, and gently unwound herself from their grasp. the fresh night caressed the bare skin of her arms in a cool kiss of relief as she tip-toed through the small gaps between the scattered nymphs.

she broke into a light run across the meadow, her bare feet softly thudding against the grass, and her white toga billowing behind her as she headed to the refuge of her pomegranate tree. the narcissus were squeezed shut, as if the light of the moon bitterly stung them if they looked at it. persephone giggled, and with a tender wave of her slender fingers, the flowers unfurled their delicate petals, and their little golden faces turned towards their goddess.

she had made a meadow of minuscule suns amidst the midnight blackness of the sky. it was a small miracle, something that she could witness and cherish alone. persephone almost wanted to weep with joy, because she couldn’t remember the last time she used her own power to bring herself happiness. a particularly beautiful flower called to something deep inside her soul, and she couldn’t help but reach over and pluck it from the ground. she tenderly cradled it in her palm, cooing and whispering sweet nothings to it as she spied another gorgeous bloom, and plucked it too.

and another.

and another two beside it.

she picked and picked until a whole armful was practically overflowing from her arms, somehow weaving themselves into a delicate long dress that trailed behind her as she walked back to her tree. persephone laughed, carefree and as light as birds feathers, wrapping her indulgence around her like silk. tonight, she would sleep on a bed of flowers, and nobody could say anything to stop her.

the flowers dropped to the ground at the foot of the tree, as if a magic gust of wind had told them to arrange themselves into the perfect blanket for persephone to lay on. she dropped to her knees and laid out, rubbing the apples of her cheeks against the petals.

that was when she saw him.

he stood there, his looming figure visible from this distance, and his eyes.

oh, his eyes.

four of them there were. she didn’t need to strain to see them; they glowed iridescently, shimmering like blood-red rubies that reminded her of a deep bowl of pomegranate seeds. a promise of a messy feast, dripping messily from her chin onto her hands, coating them in red, red, red.

persephone instinctively sat up, her body going rigid, as if the very essence of her life had left her. the stranger stalked towards her, and in the light of selene, his form became clearly visible. he was a god, that much was clear, for his large body was adorned with the black markings of death, seeming to swirl and move by a trick of the moonlight. he had two pairs of arms, one of which carried an obsidian bident that whispered of violence and horror.

this was undeniably hades, the god of the underworld himself.

persephone knew who he was because hermes had told her stories of his frequent descents to the underworld, whenever her mother wasn’t around, of course. of how hades sat atop a throne of black diamonds, with the viscous cerberus at his feet, unfeeling and unforgiving as hermes guided both the lucky and unlucky souls to wherever hades had judged them to go.

why was he here? hades was known to reside in his halls of blood and bones, and never left it. the last time he had even been to olympus was sometime before she was born. he stood before her now, looking down at her with an expression she couldn’t decipher. his lower pair of eyes were flicking back and forth between different parts of her, as if sizing her up. she stared up into his eyes, her heart hammering against her ribcage like a trapped bird.

“do not look at me that way,” the god rumbled, his voice carrying something ancient, as old as the depths of the earth. he was carved from war, a god who had struck down titans, and it was obvious.

persephone’s heart skipped a beat, and she clenched her fist, accidentally crushing a poor narcissus. “in what way?”

“as if i was about to strike you down this instant,” hades replied, his tone resonating with chilling authority.

her eyes flicked pointedly to his bident. “why else are you here then, lord hades?”

hades glowered at her, seemingly displeased, and tightly gripped his bident before throwing it a distance away, never taking his eyes off of her. “better?” he asked sneeringly, a slither of fire, and squatted down right in front of her.

she could only nod her head, his proximity alarming and unnerving her. despite him lowering himself, hades still looked down on her, looming over persephone with the promise of death.

“so,” he started, his tongue swiping over his lips. “you’re my brother’s elusive daughter.” persephone gaped, shocked he even knew of her existence, and hades chuckled darkly. “hermes likes to talk, especially to me.”

he grinned, a hint, no promise of madness, like knowing the grass would be kissed by water droplets overnight. she knew she had to tread carefully as she stared into his eyes, and accepting that she may not survive this night completely unscathed. hades adjusted himself into a sitting position, his powerful legs crossed over each other, his movements causing persephone to flinch. he rolled his eyes, displeasure flashing in them again.

“i must say, you look nothing like satoru,” he continued, his bottom eyes still observing her so very closely. “definitely not like my sister either.”

persephone asked, perhaps foolishly, naively, “does that please you?”

with a flash of crimson and jasmine-scented air, heat rose to her cheeks. she placed her hands delicately on her lap, as if behaving more placidly and curling in on herself would save her from him. hades tilted his head amusingly at her, pink-peach curls rolling to the side.

he knew she was inexperienced, clearly reveled in it, soaking himself in it, dipping his fingers in and licking them clean.

persephone hated it.

and unexpectedly, she hated her mother for making her so inexperienced, for sheltering her, and pruning her so that she was always prim and proper.

his crimson eyes flashed mirthfully, lips curling upwards. “you care what pleases me, little flower?”

hades’ words only added to her inner turmoil of embarrassment, and she refused to allow him even a glimpse of her vulnerability. so, persephone maintained a somewhat composed exterior, refusing to answer, and a fragile silence enveloped them, save for the hum of crickets in the bushes. hades turned his attention elsewhere, supporting his chin with one of his hands, seemingly gracing her the dignity of not responding to his taunt.

“a goddess should not be fraternizing so closely with mortals,” he said suddenly, a sour look on his features. “especially a daughter of zeus.”

“i do not mix with them,” persephone corrected gently. “it is my duty to help their grains grow.”

hades scoffed, white fangs flashing in the silver moonlight, and one of his smaller eyes fixed solely on her. “your duty, or the one placed upon you by demeter? you should know, mortals do not deserve the power of a goddess.”

persephone didn’t know what to make of the god of the dead. here he was, never having met her before, yet referred to her as a goddess, as if she belonged on olympus drinking ambrosia with the rest of her family. she felt somewhat honored, acknowledged, that hades seemed to be able to see her meager power for what it was worth.

“why do you think they are so undeserving?” persephone asked rather curiously. “they worship the very ground we walk on, pray to us, and turn to us in times of need. have they not earned our help?”

"sweet little flower, they would defile and hurt you the very first chance they got. mortals are ugly, infesting creatures that care for nothing except themselves. they serve only as a means to an end for my kingdom."

the grass underneath hades suddenly wilted, as if he had let his power run free for just a moment. something seemed to have snapped in him, something dark. for whatever reason, he seemed to loathe the very souls that inhabited his kingdom. perhaps he had judged them for far too long, had heard and seen all they had done in their short little lives, and deemed the lot of them unworthy of anything good at all.

and still, hades would carry out his duty and pass judgment, allowing the very same mortals who shirked and shunned his name to avoid his attention to pass onto a happier afterlife if they so deserved it. she couldn’t imagine how spiteful she would grow to be if the villagers trampled on the barley she grew for them.

despite her initial apprehension, it made her heart ache for him.

it was pure instinct, but persephone reach out and placed a narcissus right next to one of his hands.

all of his four crimson eyes were fixed on her, and she felt another flush of heat wash over her body. how strange, she imagined being close to death would be like ice, cold and empty, instead of fire and the rushing of her godly blood through her veins and arteries.

“you are a strange one,” hades murmured, pinching the stem between his fingers, sniffing the bloom almost suspiciously with his nose upturned. “tell me your name.”

“hermes did not tell you?”

“he is a trickster, and speaks in riddles. he would not give your name to me willingly.”

“then it is persephone, but my mother calls me kore.”

“and what do you prefer to be known as, little flower?”

she hesitated for a moment. “persephone.”

hades repeated her name, tasting it on his tongue and between his teeth, in the same way she savored a gem of pomegranate seed.

was it sweet to him?

something told her that it was.

the ghost of a smile played on his lips, something old and perhaps long since forgotten until this moment. hades stood up, brushing the dead blades of grass from his toga. “well, persephone, i must leave you. i cannot be away from my kingdom for too long.”

she understood that. the underworld was his home the way the fields of golden barley was hers. but why hades had even come to the surface, persephone didn't understand, and perhaps never would. "farewell, hades."

"ryomen," he correct, almost insistently, one pair of his arms folded over his broad chest in a display of strength. or was it vulnerability? perhaps protecting his heart from that which would seek to harm it? “you may call me ryomen."

with that, the earth beneath his feet cracked and split open, and a deafening rumbling reverberated through her eardrums as she clapped her hands to cover her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. when she opened them again, the god of the dead had all but disappeared.

persephone could not help but feel a touch of disappointment.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

demeter was enraged.

it had only taken a single whiff for her to mother to know. she could sense the unmistakable aura of her brother, the essence of death clinging to persephone like a shroud. it was a like a smell that permeated every crevice of her body, one that no amount of scrubbing or soaking could wash away.

"how dare he approach you?" demeter seethed, gripping persephone's face so tightly she thought her bones would crack. "did you encourage him? have the nymphs corrupted you? did you lay with him?”

"n-no, mother," persephone sputtered, struggling against demeter’s hold, her feet wriggling as they dangled uselessly in the air. "i would never do so."

demeter's wrath was rare but quick to build, like dried kindling catching fire, "you lie," she sneered, teeth bared in a snarl as she shook her. "you must have done something to entice him to approach you."

“ah! no, hanami!” she cried, milky-white tears falling like shining pearls from her eyes. “i never encouraged him once!”

her mother scoffed cruelly and dropped her to the ground in an ungraceful heap, pacing erratically back and forth as she muttered to herself, “zeus will hear of this! oh yes, he must be told at once.”

persephone painfully rubbed her cheekbones, feeling a dull ache spreading throughout her face. the trees of the forest were screaming bloody murder whirled madly in a chaotic dance, the very essence of nature responding to her mother’s rage. vine tendrils lashed angrily like whips of fire, and persephone flinched to avoid being struck. she had seen this sort of anger before, always directed at foolish mortals who dared to lay a finger against nature.

but never her. never once had it been against her.

it shifted something within her, and persephone knew it would never go back to where it belonged. she had done everything her mother asked her whole life, been obedient, never complaining as she followed her rules and carried out her duties. as the tendrils of resentment tightened around her like poison, persephone was beginning to understand one thing.

nothing would ever be enough to please demeter.

(somewhere in her meadow, a narcissus petal fell, and the god of the dead stirred in his throne.)

eventually, demeter’s rage calmed, like a hurricane settling into a somewhat pleasant sea breeze. she looked at persephone, who hoped to sense some semblance of remorse or even sheepishness for what her mother had just done. yet, there was nothing – only the remnants of simmering anger, now settled enough for demeter to think clearly.

“forgive me,” demeter murmured, placing a stiff hand upon her head. “you are still young, and i must protect you from the gods. they would only seek to corrupt you, especially hades.”

and what about you? what about zeus?

but persephone said nothing except, “there is nothing to forgive,” the sting of a lie thickening her voice. “i understand.”

even though she most certainly did not understand, for hanami should know better than anyone that persephone was good and pure, and would never actively encourage any of the gods of olympus – or underworld , for that matter – from pursuing her.

she should have known.

and so her apology meant nothing, for it was obviously false.

the fire in persephone’s godly blood was igniting into something foreign, something full of fury, something maybe even ugly, but she didn’t care. not anymore.

demeter knelt down in front of her daughter, pinching her chin and placing a kiss on her brow. “fret not, kore. i will speak with zeus tomorrow when we visit him. let us deal with hades.”

a flash of fear made persephone’s bones tremble at the thought. she very much doubted the power of nature would stand a chance against the underworld and all the death in it, against hades himself.

against ryomen.

with a gust of wind and falling rose petals, demeter vanished into the forest in a purposeful flurry of energy, leaving the shattered pieces of herself for persephone to pick up and put back together. the nymphs peeked out their frightened faces from behind the bushes they had hidden in, taking in persephone’s crumpled figure with a mixture of apprehension and pity. they had been the initial target of demeter’s wrath, for they had failed to keep an eye on their goddess and call for demeter when she was needed.

a mistake they would not be repeating again.

she felt the dark vines of her cage tighten, closing in on her more, and persephone knew it would be rare for her to get any sort of alone time from this moment onwards.

“come,” persephone whimpered, barely above a whisper. “i must tend to the fields.”

she collected herself from the ground, dusting the dirt from herself, and began her familiar walk to the barley fields, with the nymphs trailing not too far behind. the birds were whistling stories of things that had happened in the night, and the bees were flitting about in between the honeysuckle flowers. persephone wished she was one of them; drinking in nothing but sugary sweetness all day, and still being known for her sting.

the mortals kept away from persephone as she worked. they were grateful people, gifting her with more honeycomb and burning incense in her name. she could smell it in the air, a smoky mystery; powerful and deep. her thoughts trailed back to ryomen, and what he had said about the mortals. persephone didn't believe these men would hurt her, but what if they did?

what sort of punishment would defiling a goddess warrant in death? what sort of things would hades do to them if they even so much as touched her?

would he mercilessly set his vicious cerberus on to them, or would he do it himself? relentlessly rip them apart until they were only ribbons of flesh, and suck their blood from his fingers with a grin on his face, only to put them back together and do it all over again.

persephone almost didn’t want to know.

and yet, she did. with a sick and twisted fascination that was a small seedling sprouting inside her.

when the sun almost touched the horizon, persephone wiped her brow and halted the flow of her power into the fields. she was done for the day, bone-weary both emotionally and physically, and wanted nothing more than to be cleansed and taken care of by her nymphs. they were waiting for her at the edge of the fields, still sheltered by the border of the forest. their faces brightened every so slightly at the sight of her, then dipped upon seeing her weariness and sadness. persephone could only manage a half-hearted smile before silently making the trek to the bathing pool.

upon seeing the pool, the nymphs rushed to it, unable to contain their glee. some remained by persephone’s side, gently helping to remove her clothes, and slowly setting her down into the pool. they cupped water between their palms and let it trickle down her hair and ridges of her spine, and cooed and praised her beauty as they washed her.

persephone was only half-listening to them, completely ignoring their gentle kisses to her hair and hands, as white noise gradually became all she could hear. she wanted to drown in white, she thought, as she felt more of her milky tears slip from her eyes. would they fill the pool until it was a deep lake? she imagined she would fall back into it, her vision filled with white as she sank to the bottom lined with blood-red poppies, and demeter would scream and wail as she tried to find her.

an acute silence suddenly snapped persephone out of her escapism.

the birds had stopped twittering, and the nymphs were as still as deer in the face of a hunter. the only movement was the water ripples moving to the edge of the pool as they slowly settled and the water stilled. persephone felt a tingle, her hair raising at the back of her neck. she turned her head over her shoulder, sensing an intruder amongst them.

and there stood hades, doning the same dark toga as before, his dark pupils dilated and blown as he locked eyes with her.

the nymphs squealed and hissed at him, flocking around persephone, gripping and covering her protectively, their nails almost scratching her skin. hades looked down at them, his nose turned up as he ordered darkly, “leave us.”

“no, you are the one who must leave,” one of the nymphs snapped bravely, yet foolishly. “we will call for our goddess, and she will drive you away.”

the earth rumbled loudly, ominously angry, and the nymphs cried out in fear, clinging to persephone. “is that so?” hades smirked before it fell abruptly, and he snarled. “out of respect for persephone, i will not kill you for your insolence. leave us, now.”

his last words were like molten fire, an echo of an ancient power rolling over hills and mountains, the grass and flowers wilting and dying as death touched and halted right before persephone. she gasped as she felt its warmth tenderly caress her face, sliding along her jawline and down to her neck, brushing over her arms crossed over her bare breasts.

the nymphs did not receive such gentle touches of hades’ power, it seemed, as they scrambled away from her, splashing and screaming bloody murder. persephone simply observed their fear, feeling a sort of detachment and almost indifference wash over her.

she knew it was only a matter of time before her mother arrived.

“you’re hurt,” hades remarked, but not unkindly, stepping over fallen tree logs as he made his way closer to her.

she said nothing, remaining perfectly still, hoping the water was deep enough to protect her modesty below, and tightening her arms around herself. he kneeled in front of her, his breath wafting over her damp face. some part of her was still dissociated, her soul drifting above them, looking down, and persephone wasn’t sure if it was because she was frightened or simply not afraid at all.

hades seemed to hesitate for just a moment, and then his fingers were cupping her jaw, gently moving her to each side as he observed the blooming shadows of bruises on her cheeks.

“demeter,” he stated lowly, and it was most certainly not a question, but persephone nodded nonetheless, a snowdrop tear running down her cheek and onto his hand.

crimson anger flashed in all of his eyes, and his jaw tightened and clicked, a sliver of his teeth visible between his lips. her stomach lurched as hades licked her tear from the back of his hand, and he closed his eyes, as if savoring the taste of her on his tongue.

“i must go to olympus tomorrow,” she blurted out suddenly.

hades cracked a single eye open, and it narrowed suspiciously. “what for?”

“zeus wishes to see me. my mother says he misses me,” she replied, moving away from his touch on her jaw and looking down to the side. “and i do not know what it is, but something is… different.”

he sighed deeply, and she gazed back into his eyes as he gripped her chin. “zeus has waited patiently for all this time, but demeter can no longer keep him at bay. he will have his way with you, and soon. he most likely wishes to see you to try and seduce you into his bed.”

persephone felt her heart drop as hades all but confirmed her worst fears. she had some sort of inkling that this would happen eventually, and guessed that her mother had been shielding her from zeus and his urges. however, some naive and childish part of her had hoped that he would remain as her father and cherish her as his daughter forever. her breathing becoming erratic, and her body started to shake as the trees around her started to rustle loudly, heralding the imminent arrival of demeter. hades hushed her softly, cradling both sides of her face now.

“what if i could stop this? ryomen whispered, with a tenderness she didn’t think the god of the dead could ever have possessed, as the tip of his nose touched hers.

persephone blinked rapidly as the wind stung her eyes, utterly perplexed. “you cannot stand against zeus.”

he laughed at this, throwing his head back as if it were the funniest thing in the world. “oh, how you doubt me so, little flower.”

“i don’t understand. what can you do or say against the word of satoru? he is our – your – king?”

“only understand that i am owed, little flower. for fighting with against the titans many centuries ago and faithfully serving my duty in the underworld for all this time. i am owed, and zeus knows this well.”

his thumb stroked her left cheek, and persephone instinctively leaned into his touch. the wind howled louder, and the trees seemed to be screaming at them to tear themselves from each other and run, run, run.

“you are stronger than you know, persephone,” hades murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, as if they were already lovers who had been together for many years. she heard a great thudding noise, like the footsteps of a giant running, and he gripped her a touch tighter. “light that spark again in your eyes, and say you will fight.”

“hades.”

demeter was very close. their time was running out, and persephone instinctively grabbed his hands holding her face. her soul seemed to snap back into place, and her eyes widened as fear seized her. “ryomen,” she gasped, urgency lacing her words. “you must go.”

“not until you say you will fight,” he repeated, steady as a boulder against her trying to push him away, not even budging an inch. “i will save you, but you must give me your word that you will fight until i can reach you.”

“sukuna! how dare you lay your hands upon my daughter?!”

her mother’s voice was like a thousand thundering horses, their hooves smashing into the earth with all the force they could muster. persephone screamed as the trees rocked back and forth, their roots ripping free from the ground and poised to strike hades. as fast as a snake, hades grabbed a root that was a second away from slashing them both, wrenching it in two and hurling it far away. he snarled defiantly as he turned his back to her, glaring into the forest.

“i promise!” persephone exclaimed as her demeter’s figure came into view from the forest, barreling towards them. “ryomen, i promise! please, you must leave.”

hades turned to look at her, with a mad grin and gleaming teeth, as his crimson eyes flashed brightly. with a great swing of his arms, his power came crashing into demeter, sending her flying back deep into the forest. there was an explosion of shadow, only inky blackness seeping into persephone’s eyes and bones, flooding her head with dark whispers and promises.

promises of the dead.

and the dead were known to keep them.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

persephone felt as if she were approaching her death sentence.

the grand halls of olympus were no less than resplendent, with tall white marble columns and lavish golden decorations. the very air was alive with the energy of the gods that dwelled there, and their laughter and music always echoed throughout the pantheon. this place had once felt like home, its splendor familiar and warm, but now it only felt oppressive, like a cage who’s cold bars she had only just registered.

persephone could finally see it for all of its faults and how deep its rotten ugliness actually ran beneath the surface.

she felt her soul detach once again, keeping her numb to everything around her. perhaps it was a defense mechanism, to perhaps keep her fear at bay, or to shield her from feeling too much all at once.

either way, it was a blessing.

demeter was in an uncharacteristically somber mood. persephone had found her mother completely unconscious after hades had used his power against her. when she woke, all her anger had been replaced by a slumped and defeated sort of exhaustion. demeter had spent the night with her, placed beautiful blooms in her hair that morning, and helped her dress to travel to olympus, all the while not saying more than a handful of words.

it seemed as if the goddess of nature had been drained of all life, her petals falling faster, leaving a trail of red behind her, like blood.

it unnerved persephone, who was no longer sure how to act around her mother.

as they entered the dining hall, persephone was first greeted by the sight of a long table draped in white silk and laden with a feast of various meats and salads. the golden goblets of the gods sparkled in the warm, soft afternoon light, no doubt filled with ambrosia and sweet nectar.

and there was zeus, seated at the head of the table, his legs and arms spread comfortably, exuding both carefreeness and power. so assured was he in his authority, absolute as the king of the gods.

“welcome, my daughter!” zeus announced, his booming voice echoing like thunder, his cerulean eyes twinkling with mirth and lightning. “come and join us; we have missed you greatly.”

there was once a time, not so long ago really, that she would have been moved by her father’s words, believing that he truly missed her and loved to spend time with her. but now it was tainted, and all she could think of were hades’ words from last night, and her perfect image of zeus was forevermore ruined.

the olympians were in full attendance, their gazes resting on persephone and demeter, before they all raised their goblets in acknowledgment, then resuming their conversations and merriment. she spied a seat next to artemis and tried to rush over to it as inconspicuously as she could, leaving her mother to take her seat elsewhere.

“persephone!” artemis exclaimed happily, her fierce eyes glinting like the shiny, rich wood of her hunting bow. “it has been too long.”

persephone smiled, feeling a slight weight lift off her shoulders, and embraced her earnestly. “it has, my beautiful huntress.”

maki pulled back, tenderly stroking her cheek before frowning. “you were hurt,” she noted, gently prodding over the places where her bruises had been. “right here, and here.”

she sighed, hoping that artemis would not have noticed at all, for her bruising was all but gone overnight. “fret not, it is healed now.”

“was it a man? a god? tell me who did this, and i shall hunt them down,” artemis vowed, her untamed ferocity blazing forth.

“be at peace, sister,” urged the light voice of apollo, his golden hair rich and radiating with the energy of the sun. “it was neither a god nor a man.”

maki turned to glower at her brother beside her. “then who was it, nanami? do not keep it from me.”

apollo leaned forward in his seat, peering at persephone expectantly with honey-brown eyes. “do you wish me to say? helios has already told me all he has seen.”

persephone hesitated. would it really be wise to expose her mother’s abuse to maki? she shook her head, deciding that it would only escalate the tension with demeter. artemis growled and said no more. she abruptly stood up and stalked off somewhere, her hunting bow in tow, and apollo slid into his sister’s unoccupied seat.

“pay no attention to my sister, kore,” he hummed, strumming his lyre absentmindedly, his voice a beautiful sing-song melody. “would you like me to play you a song? i have thought of something especially for you.”

“since when did you need to ask for permission to play your music, apollo?” persephone asked, reaching out and sipping on a goblet of ambrosia, hyper-aware that demeter had not interrupted them already.

“since i am in the presence of a beautiful blossom such as yourself, i cannot help but seek your approval,” apollo purred, an easy, saccharine grin on his face, and heat rose to the back of her neck.

there was a loud thumping noise across the table, and they both turned to look at hermes, still appearing as an adolescent boy, banging his fists against the table as he gulped down the contents of his goblet.

“now, now, apollo! you are not to pursue persephone. she is promised to another,” he chided, childishly indulging in his own proclaimed self-importance.

apollo raised a brow. “is that so, ui ui? tell me more of this suitor, for helios has seen nothing. he must be possess a certain prowess to avoid the all-seeing sun.”

hermes giggled, his quicksilver tongue mischievously sharp as his gaze knowingly pierced her. “oh, that he does, and he may be among us already, or perhaps not. what say you, persephone?”

she glowered at the young god, saying nothing as he taunted her, and drank more ambrosia. apollo grumbled, plucking the strings of his lyre to play a somewhat fast-paced tune. “ever evasive, hermes. one day, the sun will burn you as you fly.”

hermes cackled, red wine messily dripping down his chin. “i would like to see you try.”

persephone’s mind strayed as the two gods engaged in playful banter, and she further dissociated from her body, merely a spectator in the midst of her family. she could still feel the linger touches of hades’ shadows, promising her that he would come for her. a knot formed in her stomach, both from apprehension and anticipation, as she wondered how the god of the dead intended to keep his word.

she looked up at all the olympians sat at the table, observing them indulging in their feast and flowing ambrosia and wine. apollo and hermes were now playing their music together, their voices harmonizing as they sang about the stars and sun. zeus was heartily clapping along to them, his wife hera watching him with eagle eyes, wearing a bemused smile at her husband’s antics. poseidon sat at zeus’ left, his long silky black hair flowing like a river down his back, his gold trident leaning ominously against his chair.

ares was there, his emerald orbs shining as he gnawed on a meaty rib, his handsome face and raven hair speckled with blood, no doubt having just returned from the heat of battle. all the while, aphrodite was a vision of grace, her long golden hair tumbling perfectly over her exposed back, swaying sensually to the music. persephone dared to steal a glance at demeter, who sat beside hera, wearing a slightly sour expression as she watched the performance.

all these gods have gathered here, feasting and drinking without any care, without any consequences. what is the point of it all?

“are you well, kore?” athena asked softly, pulling persephone from her thoughts. her lavender eyes gazed at her with gentle concern behind a veil of her white hair.

she managed a faint smile. “of course, than-”

“loveliest kore,” an all-consuming voice interjected, and persephone felt two large hands covering her ears as zeus placed a great big kiss on her head. “it has been too long since we have spoken. come, walk with me.”

persephone’s heart pounded, her body instinctively reacting fearfully, but she nodded and rose from her seat. she glanced at her mother, and could sense her concern and growing despair emanating. hera’s gaze bore into her with mixture of suspicion and barely concealed jealousy, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

hera’s punishment for laying with zeus would be almost as horrifying as the actual deed itself.

“excuse us, shoko, my love,” zeus mumbled, pressing a kiss to the back of his wife’s hand, and then urging persephone on with a hand to her lower back.

he led her to a secluded balcony, the music and laughter of the dining hall fading into a faint noise. night had fallen, and it was pleasantly cool. the view of the mortal cities below seemed like a dream, for they appeared so small and far away that they couldn’t be real. persephone shivered as zeus’ broad arm brushed hers, lingering for a moment too long, as he leaned over the balcony.

“you have grown into a remarkable goddess, kore,” he murmured, his tone uncharacteristically low and husky. “i have missed you here on olympus, and i told demeter that you must spend more time here.”

persephone’s discomfort was growing, but she steeled herself, and remained composed. “i’m sorry, father. i should have visited more, but my duties are rather demanding.”

zeus’ eyes darkened just a touch, his snowy hair reflecting starlight, as he moved just a touch closer to her. “your place is here, with your family. with me.”

she felt the full weight of his words and implications bore down on her, causing a sickening sensation in her core. the torches lining the balcony flickered, casting dancing shadows with a nervous energy. she remembered her promise to ryomen, to stand her ground, and so persephone gritted her teeth, steeling herself for what might come next.

zeus reached out and gripped her hand, his thumb rubbing circles. “look at me, kore,” he ordered lowly, squeezing her hand in an attempt to force her attention. “it’s only me, your satoru.”

“i don’t want to,” she whispered, her lip quivering as her body betrayed her, behaving fearful despite feeling almost nothing inside.

“no?” he tilted his head, his expression predatory.

the torches suddenly dimmed, casting the balcony into near inky blackness, save for the light of the moon and stars. the shadows loomed large, a dark mist collecting just a foot away from zeus, who moved into a more protective stance in front of persephone.

a flash of four crimson eyes gleamed between the shadows.

teeth bared in a display of madness and the sort of bravery that only the dead could possess.

“hades,” zeus greeted, his expression morphing into a forced veneer of pleasantness. “how unexpected! what brings you to olympus?”

“brother, i believe we need to have a word,” hades returned, his voice deep and resonating with the power of the earth, cutting straight through the night like an assassins blade.

a blood-red eye locked on persephone, slowly blinking at her as if trying to communicate without speaking. she tried not to show any emotion, even though her very soul was shaking with relief, gradually sinking back into her body as if the god of the dead had decreed that it must return to her.

ryomen is here. he’s here.

zeus’ hand fully slipped from hers as he crossed his arms over his chest. the tension between the two gods crackled, and persephone felt the familiar hum of her father’s power radiating through the air. and still, hades showed not an ounce of fear. his dark essence emanated in rhythmic waves, pushing back against the electric sparks.

“demeter has already asked me to keep you away from kore. are you really ready to challenge me for her, sukuna?” zeus dared, his jaw clenched.

hades’ lips curled into a sly smile. “no, but i do propose a conversation to settle this little… issue.”

the universe seemed to hold its breath for a fleeting moment. then, with a begrudging nod, zeus conceded, motioning for hades to approach. persephone bit her lip, feeling that familiar rush of blood through her veins as the god of the dead stood beside her, as if staking his claim, one of his hands dangerously close to hers. her father pursed his lips disapprovingly.

“well, what do you wish to discuss?” zeus all but growled, his tempestuous nature rapidly wearing down his patience.

hades breathed out, slow and steady. “persephone belongs with me, and i her. long ago, you asked me what i wanted for fighting with you against our father, and i wanted for nothing. and now, brother, still i am owed, and i have come to claim what i want, and it is her.”

persephone’s heart stuttered, and a swarm of butterflies flew in circles in her belly. his words had awakened something deep, something she dared not name just yet. ryomen’s eyes flicked over to her, his features softening just a touch, as if sensing her inner turmoil.

“you dare try to claim her when our sister has forbidden her from you? while she is still under my protection as my daughter?”

“i did not come here as your supplicant, zeus, but as your brother. i will only ask you once for this favor.”

“kore is a goddess of life and growth, and you would only subject her to death and decay. why should i allow you to have her?”

“because i refuse to let her be trapped any longer between you and demeter. she deserves more than that, and far more than either of you could ever give her.”

suddenly, demeter burst through to the balcony, her breathing frantic. “zeus! do not let him take her, brother! please!” she cried, her knees buckling. whirling to face hades, her expression twisted with anger, and she snarled, “you will not take my daughter! she belongs with me.”

lightning bolts lashed through the clouds, and crashing thunder reverberated in the air, ringing through persephone’s ears. “enough of this,” zeus boomed, his rage transforming the sky into a fully fledged storm. “you will not have her, hades. you are never to come near her again, or you shall face the full extent of my wrath.”

hades’ expression turned grave, and he rumbled, “keep her from me, and there shall be consequences.”

“you dare to threaten me, brother?” zeus exclaimed, his brows raised incredulously. “you dare and threaten me here, in my home?”

persephone looked fearfully at hades, who set his dark gaze upon her, the whispers of the dead breathing into her ears as he smirked. with a great clap of his hands, persephone found herself thrown backwards, her senses dulled by a blinding flash of light as a mighty lightning bolt bore down on hades. when she reopened her eyes, her savior had vanished, leaving only a scorched imprint on the marble balcony where he had stood just moments before.

“demeter, take kore and leave here,” zeus ordered, his tone dangerous and leaving no room for argument. “find artemis and order her to keep watch over our daughter. she is never to leave her sight, is that understood?”

persephone stumbled dumbly, her breath catching in her throat as she stared transfixed at the spot where hades had been, the echoes of thunder still reverberating through the air. demeter huffed impatiently as she swept persehone into her arms, whisking her away from zeus and his almighty anger. the dining room was deathly quiet, all the chairs empty and abandoned, as the other olympians had scattered, knowing all to well that the jovial feast was over.

she rolled her head back, the ground passing swiftly beneath her, her mother’s feet thudding against the ground in a swift, determined rhythm. artemis’ loyal dogs had materialized, their fur glinting in the moonlight as they ran ahead and behind them, the pack forming a coordinated and protective circle around them as they descended back to the mortal realm.

was this it?

was this ryomen’s mighty stand against zeus?

it seemed that whatever his grand plan had been, it had failed.

persephone’s heart cracked in two.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

from then on, the days were dull and dreadfully monotonous.

persephone moved through her days like a ghost, her soul roaming the skies high above her, and it had not landed since she had been to olympus. every morning, she awoke to the feeling of metaphorical vines tightening around her throat, binding her tighter to the life demeter wanted her to live.

she never smiled, not anymore. not even to artemis, who looked at her with such palpable pity that it was almost unbearable. the huntress never left her side, watching over her as she tended to the barley fields, her hounds sniffing and growling at the onlooking mortals. even during the night, maki dutifully kept her vigil, silently keeping watch against the encroaching shadows. and still, despite her dearest friend’s constant, heavy presence, persephone’s despair was ever-growing.

demeter visited almost every day, always arriving during the night. sometimes, she would sleep with her amongst the nymphs, one hand reaching out to persephone as if zeus himself might descend from olympus to steal her away, or as if she might run away and disappear into her dreams.

and oh, how persephone wanted to do just that.

she would dream of ryomen and his deep crimson eyes, a reverie of passion. he had shown her just a little taste of what it was to live as she pleased, and although persephone was shy to admit it even to herself, she missed him – fiercely. she missed that comforting rumble in his voice, and the way all of his eyes looked at her as if she were the most precious thing to him. persephone’s heart ached with longing every time she woke, the sort of pain that carved out a hollow space inside her, one she felt that only ryomen could ever fill.

but she was an empty vessel for all the flowers and seeds she had ever grown, always giving and giving, never able to take anything for herself to fill that hole.

miraculously, there had been no word from zeus, but persephone knew it was only a matter of time. sometimes, in the dead of the night, with only the sounds of the nymphs soft snores and crickets chirping under the light of the fireflies, she imagined what it would be like with hades. the thought ignited ignited a low thrum in her core, making her lower stomach flutter with pleasure.

the dreams started soon after that.

dreams of the underworld. of ryomen holding her in his arms, his bare skin flush against hers, tenderly kissing her neck and shoulder. of him telling her that she was the only one for him, that it was always her, and how he had been waiting for her his whole life. how his hand would drift lower and lower, tracing little circles and swirls down her navel, and…

persephone would always wake up at that point.

and she’d be in a crimson hue of deaths essence, thinking about how much he must have loved her to try and bargain with zeus for her, even going so far as to threaten him. persephone’s heart would flutter with warmth, but she kept her sudden happiness hidden, lest artemis would sense her desire and raise a questioning brow at her.

perhaps if i close my eyes and imagine it is ryomen instead of zeus, it won’t be so bad.

until a cold splash of ice-cold water doused over her head, and persephone was painfully reminded that she hadn’t seen him in so long. consumed in a fit of petulant anger, she wondered how could ryomen have forgotten her so easily. had she not meant that much to him after all? perhaps she was just a passing whim to him, in the same way that zeus had many.

surprisingly, but bitterly nonetheless, she thought that maybe demeter was right.

that the gods of olympus – and the underworld, it seemed – were fickle and untrustworthy.

one afternoon, after once again dreaming of hades and the underworld, persephone woke up in a fluster. deciding not be caught up in the rose haze of her fantasies, she maneuvered out from amidst the nymphs, who had gone for a nap to escape the heat of the sun. artemis was nowhere to be seen, but persephone knew she could not be far, for her hounds were resting closely to them and keeping a watchful eye.

one of the nymphs stirred, slowly sitting up and rubbing away the sleep from her eyes. “kore, where are you going?”

persephone angled her face away from the nymph and rolled her eyes. “i want to bathe. it is far too hot.”

the nymph gracefully stood up, rousing a few of the others with her, and together they all went to the bathing pool, with the ghost of artemis’ shadow following through the treeline. they gently lowered persephone into the water, cleansing her body and hair, while she struggled to keep her thoughts from drifting towards hades.

“your ichor runs hot, kore,” one of the nymphs hummed thoughtfully, rubbing the pads of her fingers deep into persephone’s scalp. “why are you so flushed?”

persephone remained silent, her attention firmly fixed on the hounds circling the pool, while the nymphs continued their ministrations.

“you are aroused, kore,” one of the nymphs whispered intimately into her ear, so low so that the others couldn’t hear. “i know these things. who is it you think of? the lightning god, zeus, hmm?”

she made a face of disgust, and the nymph giggled, almost a little too knowingly, her eyelashes fluttering not so innocently. the nymph sensually trailed her fingers down persephone’s arm. “but of course, death has you in his clutches, and you do not want to be let go of, do you?”

“enough,” persephone snapped, whirling to glare at her as her godly blood flushed once again.

the nymph did not taunt her anymore, and after they had finished washing her, persephone took off towards her pomegranate tree, all but growling at them to leave her be. artemis stepped forward from between the trees, the curve of her bow gleaming in the golden light of the hour, her hounds bounding freely through the grass, snapping playfully at each other. she said nothing to the huntress, something her dearest maki had probably come to expect by now, for persephone spoke very little at all these days.

she laid down in the long grass in front of her tree, little daisies tickling the supple skin of her shins, and set about weaving a flower crown made of narcissus. a hound bravely flopped down in front of her, its heavy, wet tongue lolling from between its fangs, rolling into its back and exposing its belly to her.

“that one likes you,” maki commented, a rare softness in her tone. when persephone didn’t reply, she sighed, setting her bow leaning against the tree trunk. “persephone, what is wrong?”

“you already know, maki,” she muttered, piercing the stem of a flower with her fingernail.

artemis shook her head disappointingly. “i only wish to keep you safe from hades. this has all been necessary to ensure that, but that does not mean that i enjoy it.”

persephone ignored her, deftly continuing to weave the stems together, to which maki huffed. it was unwise to antagonize the goddess of the hunt, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. she decided to indulge in the fleeting sense of rebellion that seemingly stemmed from her youth as a young goddess.

she held out the crown, both admiring and critiquing her own handiwork. it needed a crowning jewel, persephone decided – a large and most beautiful blossom to be placed right in the center.

when she looked up, there it was.

the most ethereal narcissus blossom stood proudly in the middle of the meadow, with petals so vibrantly yellow they were almost pure gold. it was complete perfection, the most gorgeous bloom she had ever seen.

persephone clutched her crown tightly, her heart racing as she sprinted towards the blossom. it seemed to sing to something within her, a haunting song she hadn’t heard for an age. the grass beneath her feet seemed to urge her on, whispering words of encouragement. artemis watched her with a furrowed brow, a scowl etched on her face as she ripped clumps of dirt from the earth.

the universe went eerily still as her fingers gripped the stem.

artemis pricked her head up, her hounds suddenly bristling and alert.

the earth let out a mighty groan and trembled, a deep rumble reverberating through the meadow as it trembled beneath her. persephone screamed as the ground split open and rocks cracked and gave way under her weight. the very earth seemed to be opening its jaws, yawning wide to swallow her whole.

this is it, this is my death.

until she found herself ensnared in a scorching embrace, her ear pressed against the warm, bare skin of a chiseled chest. persephone couldn’t move, the steady heartbeat of death soothing her.

“oh, persephone,” ryomen rumbled, his lips pressed into her hairline, his words laced with a desperate sort of affection. “my love, my life. how i have missed you so.”

he pressed quick kisses to her forehead, as if every one could say all the things he wanted to say. “why did you leave me for so long?” persephone couldn’t help but ask, her voice cracking like marble. “i thought you had left me forever.”

a swoosh of an arrow sliced through the air, and with a speed she had never seen before, hades caught it with his bare hand, its wood splintering as he crushed it. persephone heard artemis’ hounds howling, and the huntress’ threatening shouts at the god of the death, unflinching and unwavering. hades’ black stallions snorted and pawed the ground, his menacing obsidian chariot glinting in the sun.

“my love,” he cooed, cradling her face with two hands and forcing her to look deep into his ruby eyes. “i am ashamed of that, but i am here now to break you free from your cage.”

persephone reeled, shock gripping her in its cold clutches. “i– but zeus has forbidden us from each other. there would be war.”

“then let there be war,” he hissed, then quickly softened, tenderly rubbing her cheek with his thumbs. “come with me persephone. let me give you a crown of bones that can never die like your flowers. be my queen, be my wife.”

she paused, sucking in a breath.

could persephone really do such a thing? did she have the strength to not only disobey her mother, but zeus as well?

ryomen bent his neck down closer to her ear and whispered, “are you afraid?”

“no,” she replied as steadily as she could, wetting her lips with her tongue. “i could never be afraid of you.”

another arrow whizzed past dangerously closer to his ear, his curls fluttering as the wind from it rushed through, and still hades did not flinch. he smiled softly, kissing between her brows. “then say you will stay with me, my sweet flower. let me give you the power you were born to wield.”

persephone nodded slowly, the gravity of her decision weighing heavily on her, but there was not an ounce of hesitation that it wasn’t the right one. with a great grin on his face, hades cracked a magnificent whip and his stallions lurched forward deep into the earth, as artemis screamed promises of vengeance.

she didn’t care.

as the earth swallowed them both, the golden sun disappearing entirely and the first glimpse of the underworld came into view, all persephone could feel was an astounding sense of just one emotion.

freedom.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

persephone had finally blossomed into full bloom, unfurling her radiant petals to show the world that she was a goddess after all.

the underworld had not subjected her to death and decay as zeus had once predicted. instead, she flourished into who she was always meant to be. ryomen had always seen persephone for who she was, even before she saw it herself, and he had only helped her flourish. he had declared that she was not bound to a singular fate of a lowly wood nymph, but rather embrace duality as both a goddess of nature and queen of the underworld.

they had married the very same day persephone descended into his domain, their union blessed by hecate, or uraume, as hades often fondly referred to them as. persephone’s days were then spent in a wondrous bubble of discovery, wandering through the underworld with uraume as her guide, learning all its secrets and inner workings. then, when she felt ready, she judged the souls of the dead alongside her husband, sitting atop his lap as if he were her throne. together, they would listen to the pleas of all that stood trial before them, with persephone running her fingers through his curls, and the unyielding god of the underworld would allow it.

their nights together were tender and vulnerable, both of them baring themselves to each other with all their faults and discretions in plain view. and still, it was full of love and acceptance. persephone would never change her husband’s ways, just as ryomen would never try to tell her how to live her life.

the god of the dead was true; his love steadfast and searing with passion, nothing at all like the cold fickleness of the olympians.

persephone didn’t know how long she had been in the underworld, and she didn’t care to count. there were no mealtimes to mark the passing of the day, for there was no need to eat in the underworld, and hades was vehemently against her ever eating a thing. instead, she marked the passage of time whenever they retired to their bed, where she lay in his arms, talking about everything and anything at all.

“ryo, why do you not allow me to eat?” persephone finally asked him, her curiosity getting the better of her, tracing her fingers over the strange black markings on his biceps.

hades sighed, one of his hands gently squeezing her thigh. “because… it would bind you forever to me.”

“but we are already husband and wife,” she rebuked, frowning. “we are bound through our vows to each other.”

“this is different, my love. you would be chained to the underworld as i am, and you could never leave it.”

“would that be so terrible? i never want to be parted from you.”

“it would. i do not wish for you to be in another cage, even if it is with me, and even if i also wish for you to always be at my side.”

hades gently maneuvered her beneath him, his crimson eyes trailing over her body. “let us not speak of such things anymore, persephone,” he murmured, planting kisses along her bare chest.

she was then lost in a haze of pleasure, and they spoke no more of it.

until one fateful day, when the air carried the taste of snow and change, hermes paid a visit to the rulers of the dead.

“your mother has covered all the land in frost and ice in her grief,” the young god solemnly said, staring straight at persephone, his very hair seemingly touched by the very same cold he spoke of. “the people of greece are suffering.”

persephone shifted uncomfortably on ryomen’s lap, and her husband’s grip on her hips tightened. “do not try to guilt my wife as if demeter’s actions are hers,” hades growled at the messenger of the gods.

“the people of greece are suffering,” hermes continued defiantly, his head bowed and all traces of his usual mischief gone. “the very essence of nature is dying. everything you have toiled to ever grow is dying, oh queen of the dead.”

her bottom lip trembled, and her eyes glistened with a milky white sheen of tears that threatened to spill as persephone’s body tensed in an effort to control her whirling emotions. ryomen hushed her softly, his hand gently stroking her back, as if he could sense her anguish.

“it is my fault,” she whispered, more so to ui ui than hades. “it is my fault my mother thinks i have perished, and nature is now doomed to die because of my decision.”

hermes shook his head, his face crumbling with regret. “it pains me to bring you this news, but zeus has instructed me to carry this message to you both.”

“a message from zeus?” hades snapped questioningly, his breath hot against persephone’s ear. “he knows she is here?”

“helios witnessed persephone descend with you into the underworld, but he has kept this knowledge to himself for a time, as he knew you had not kidnapped her. but now, the earth is dying, and the people pray and cry for mercy.”

hermes took a deep breath before continuing. “and so helios has told zeus of what has transpired, for the sake of the mortals. demeter cannot accept that her daughter has chosen death over life. she refuses to cease the endless winter until persephone is returned to her at once.”

the ground rumbled, and persephone could feel her husband’s anger growing as her guilt did. her heart tore as she thought of the golden fields she had so carefully tended, now withering and buckling under the weight of an unnatural winter. she thought of the mortals, who had so kindly offered her honeycomb and incense, always praying to her for fertility of the land and womb. she thought of her mother, whom despite everything, persephone still loved deeply. she could not begin to imagine the sort of pain hanami must be enduring since her disappearance.

“i do not wish to cause you this sort of pain, persephone,” ui ui said earnestly, a hand over his heart. “you already know that i have kept your secret for these past six months.”

six months…

“what does it matter if the mortals are dying?” hades grunted, waving a dismissive hand, leaning back against his throne. “the more souls that reside in our realm, the stronger we are. zeus knows this.”

hermes’ face scrunched up in discomfort. “zeus… acknowledges that fact, and he is imploring for you both to see reason.”

has it really been six months?

“reason?” hades scoffed. “riddle me this then, trickster. is it reason or jealousy that drives my brother to ask me to give up my wife, hmm?”

“he knows not that you are married, so let me help you strike a bargain with the god of lightning,” hermes proposed, his hand ominously disappearing into the folds of his toga.

he procured a whole pomegranate in his palm, holding it out to them both like some sort of salvation. persephone sucked in a breath, and hades stiffened, his muscles hardening into marble at the sight, as if he were almost afraid of it.

she knew that fruit; it was from her tree.

“i offer you a choice t-”

“you overstep, hermes,” hades hissed, recoiling and ready to strike. “you do not offer her a choice, only to lock her in a cage with me.”

“stay calm, ryomen,” persephone finally interjected, her voice but a mere drop in a turbulent ocean of salt and sorrow. “what if this is the only way?”

ryomen’s gaze snapped towards her, a whirlwind of confusion and unmistakable panic in his eyes. “what way, persephone? i will not have you bound to only this realm. it would just be another cage.”

“but it wouldn’t be a cage if i was willing. it is you, after all,” she returned, tears of pearls running down her cheeks.

“my love, my sweet flower, you would only resent me after a time,” he whispered reverently, his forehead touching hers. “and i would rather be thrown into the depths of tartarus than have you hate me.”

six months…

“please, then let me do what i believe is right,” persephone implored desperately, her fists clenching his toga. “you promised me that you would let me be free to do as i wish.”

persephone watched on as her beloved, her ryomen sukuna, seemed to wage a war within himself. his deep ruby eyes, usually so alight with a stout sort of resoluteness, were now a tempest of uncertainty. lines were etched deep into his forehead like scratchings on a stone carving, and each fleeting change of emotion spoke volumes of how much he was struggling.

until the god of the dead finally crumpled, his shoulders growing slack, and his entire demeanor going so very still.

“do what you must, my love. my soul cannot refuse you, nor can it stand to limit you,” his voice quivered with raw emotion, heavy and unbearably low with defeat.

persephone kissed the bridge of his nose, a salty tear landing on her husband’s cheek, and slowly, agonizingly, untangled herself from his tight embrace. she strode towards hermes, the gold jewelry adorning her arms and neck – opulent gifts that ryomen frequently showered her with – clinking as she did so.

the messenger of the gods quirked his eyebrow expectantly, and he further extended the pomegranate towards her, its smooth skin reflecting the dim light of the underworld. her fingers itched to reach out and touch it, a mixture of longing and dread washing over her.

persephone wasn’t sure whether or not to grasp it or run far away from it.

she cleared her throat and thoughts, and asked, “what sort of bargain would ever stand with zeus?”

“i propose this to you, loveliest persephone,” hermes began, cracking open the pomegranate in his little hands. “you have spent six wonderful months with your husband, and so your mother is owed six months in return.”

anger flashed in her irises, and the ground shook once more. “you are full of mischief, ui ui. you speak so very boldly for your age.”

ui ui seemed to shirk in shame, curling into himself ever so slightly, as he removed six ruby gems of pomegranate seeds from the shell of the fruit. “i propose a bold claim, and therefore i must speak in the same manner.”

“well, what is it then?”

“eat six of these seeds to bind yourself to the realm of the dead. you will be forced to return to your husband for six months of the year, and there will be nothing zeus nor demeter can do about it. i will go to olympus and inform them of what you have done, and will say that you threaten to eat another six seeds if zeus does not vow to never touch you while you are away from hades.”

thorns grew beneath the soles of persephone’s feet, her ichor and power manifesting its detestation over the injustice of it all, a painfully silent protest against the weight of the choices before her.

how could she possibly make a decision to willingly leave her husband for half the year?

she couldn’t. she wouldn’t.

but could i abandon the golden crops of my labor to die because of my choices?

behind her, she could sense ryomen’s grief growing wildly – a sorrowful groan echoing through the earth as it responded to his pain.

ui ui grabbed persephone’s hand, dropping the seeds into her palm, and curled her fingers to cover them. “i never wished for you to ever be in pain. i have always thought of you very fondly, and i hate for you to be coerced into such unfair choices.”

she unfurled her fingers, staring down at the glimmering gems from her tree as if they beheld all the answers of the universe.

“you have much to learn, ui ui, as do i,” persephone murmured, her voice suddenly imbued with all the wisdom of the gods before her.

she had grown this tree from a mere seedling to what it was now. how could she have not noticed that it had always revealed the true nature of her soul? it had always known her intimately, as its branches curved and tilted towards the earth, and persephone had never understood why it had until now.

it had always been guiding her.

persephone looked over her shoulder at her husband, her ears sinking as she took in ryomen’s crushed posture. he was stooped over, a pair of arms crossed protectively over his chest, the other pair gripping his throne in support.

persephone hated how utterly exposed he looked.

“but you must always know to listen to your heart,” she said, her voice steeling as her ichor pulsed in her veins. “know that it cannot lead you astray from what is right for yourself.”

with a tip of her head, persephone pressed her palm to her mouth, the seeds falling between her teeth. she bit down slowly, their burst of tart yet sweet flavor spreading over her tongue, their red juice staining her lips and trickling down her chin in rivulets. her husband stirred, and she felt her soul meld with his, intertwining and caressing each other as persephone sealed her fate.

two gold strings tied together, shimmering threads of destiny, never to be undone until the end of time.

༚༅༚˳✿˳༚༅༚

taglist: @tadabzzzbee @wannapizzamymindposts @stromynight

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk oneshot #jjk x greek mythology #hades sukuna #hades!sukuna x reader #jjk au #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #true form sukuna #✍🏼 lily’s requests #fics for gaza #nanami kento #gojo satoru #toji fushiguro #hanami #ui ui #yuki tsukumo #shoko ieiri #geto suguru #maki zenin

[mo-ondrcps]

♖ ˗ˏˋ 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐌 ´ˎ˗

❛ easing the general into relaxing himself buried in you.❜

: ̗̀➛ jiyan x fem! reader warning(s): the following contains smut. minors dni. content: dom! jiyan, sub! fem reader, unprotected sex, biting, teasing, praising, cockwarming, vaginal fingering, leather, aftercare, oral, creampie genre: romance, smut word count: 1.0K author's note: spoiling ya'll with another jiyan imagine since i couldn't get my head out of this man for so long. my muse of wanting to draw him has been long overdue right now :pensive:

    Your clothes lay strewn across the floor right next to you and Jiyan while his cock, just inches away, buried deep inside, almost kissed your cervix with its tip. The sensual proximity caused your breath to become ragged while Jiyan sat there comfortably, forgetting about the presence of his work on his desk as his hand gently traced small lines down your back using the golden claw of his gloves. Your spine shivered upon contact, walls squeezing his cock in anticipation that made Jiyan hold back a groan.

"Don't move yet. Let me enjoy this a little longer... You did offer it, after all."

    Jiyan rubbed your hips in soothing circles before relaxing once more. You insisted on him taking a rest in bed, but the poor man was still a little too exhausted after defeating tacet discords for the entire afternoon with his troop that he resulted in staying in his office for the time being. You had no other choice but to help him release his stress here, feeling a little bold in your decision, thinking the Midnight Rangers wouldn't walk into their general like this.

"But Jiyan... I need it. Need you..."

"Love, you've come this far, though."

    He pressed a gentle kiss on your lips, his other hand to cup your cheek, staring at your half-lidded eyes in adoration. Jiyan moved his hand lower to massage the curve of your hips, further torturing your nerves that made your breath hitch upon the sensation you're trying so hard to hold back on.

"So behaved for me. That's my good girl."

    Jiyan's voice whispered next to your ear, thick with desire, before trailing them down to knead your breasts, eliciting a strained moan from your lips. It made your hips react, only to be taken by surprise at Jiyan's hand, harshly holding onto her hips that made her thrusts come to a halt. His warm breath mingled menacingly on her neck while he faught back his control over her.

"Easy, (Y/n). Did I tell you to move now?"

    His voice was low and commanding. You swore you could almost feel your arousal burst right now on his cock, just by the sound of it. You could only moan softly next to his ear, trying to coax him into falling with you in your desires.

"Jiyan..."

    Jiyan's grip on your waist tightens, cock twitching at the warmth of your cunt has been providing him. Your breath continues to fan against his neck while your arms try to stabilize yourself against him.

    It was a small game between the both of you. Who would crumble faster against the other's arms and none of you were backing down on the challenge.

"Beg for it, my love."

    Your head shakes, slowly coming undone on his cock as Jiyan watching, amused at your expressions and loss of words. How could you not when you got yourself buried in his erection in the first place? But Jiyan knew, of course, your beloved general even through the sheets.

"Nggh, Jiyan... need you deep in me... Your cock fucking me..."

    Just like that, all it took was your directness and filthy words for Jiyan to be fuelled by his desires, thrusting his cock until the very end of your walls. His tip brushing against the soft folds of your cervix with every powerful stroke. It made your head roll back, crying out in pleasure. His muscular arms held your hips in a tight grip, carrying you to lie down on his desk, pushing his work aside to thrust his hips in a steady rhythm.

"Jiyan.. D-deeper, harder... there!"

    Your hands found its way to claw on the fabric of his uniform, pussy gushing out warm cum that coated his cock making it easier for him to slam harder into your cunt. His hands rubbed soothing circles on the back of your thighs before pinching your puffy clit, rolling it between his fingers that were concealed by the leather of his gloves. He nudged the sensitive spot, watching you tremble and release on his cock once more.

"I should use my gloves more often. Don't you think love?"

    Jiyan pounded his cock, leaning down to press his lips in a heated battle between your tongues, fighting for dominance while riding out his release in you.

"You seem to cum faster when I use my hands. Especially when they're gloved."

    He pulled out his cock, watching the mixture of your orgasm drool down from your pussy to his desk. Jiyan used his gloved hand, pushing two digits inside of your sensitive cunt, riding out your high before punishing the bundles of your nerves by curling his fingers inside of you. The harsh brush of leather against your needy cunt made you moan loudly, legs shaking for another round of your arousal until you burst, releasing on his hand, just proving Jiyan's point.

    Jiyan hummed in approval, leaning down to lap his wet tongue against your pussy, some of it sticking on the tip of his nose while he eagerly ate you out as a form of gratitude for caving in to relax with you. His calm after the storm.

"Mm.. You should visit me often, love. Need this form of relaxation after battling countless of tacet discords."

    After cleaning you up, he pressed his lips against your own, dancing softly, unlike the passion that surged between you a moment ago. He helped you get dressed, starting with your bottoms then your top, before easily carrying you over to sit on his lap, cradling you in his strong arms, made to defend others and protect you.

"Was I too rough? You made it such an unfair fight when you decided to help me relax by stripping your clothes in front of me, then teasing me, love."

    A soft giggle left your lips at your intentions while Jiyan kissed your neck, busily nipping at the base of your skin.

"You're so stubborn. Yet my strategy was effective to make you relax if it meant stealing the attention of the general."

    Jiyan growled softly near your ear, biting down on your neck, earning a moan from your lips. He's so hot whenever he is possessive of you like this. It only made you excited just thinking of being the general's partner. How lucky you are to steal his heart.

"Don't try it if I'm talking with one of the Midnight Rangers. Only I can see you like this, understood?"

"Yes, Jiyan..."

#☾ ❛ 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧'𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠. → ⌜ writing. ⌟ #wuthering waves #wuwa #jiyan #wuwa jiyan #jiyan wuthering waves #jiyan x reader #wuwa x reader #wuthering waves x reader #wuwa smut #wuthering waves smut #jiyan smut #jiyan imagine #smut #mdni #jiyan x fem!reader #jiyan x reader smut

[monzabee]

viva las vegas - mv1 (+18)

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where you and Max celebrate his win in a way you’ve never done before.

Pairing: max verstappen x reader 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol, having sex tipsy but there is consent?, manhandling, unprotected sex (are you even surprised at this point), oral (fem receiving), sex (duh), cursing, cockwarming (oops), minors dni!!

Request: “Hey babe! I’m obsessed with your last Charles piece, I’ve been wanting to read something like that for such a long time and you did it perfectly 😍🥹 I was wondering if I could request kind of the same concept with Max Verstappen? Like he always is pictured as a tough guy and stuff, but when you see him in videos he’s kind of a goof, so I imagine the first time he’s intimate with his gf they’d both laugh and have the sweetest time together” 

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! is this my best work? no but it is something i managed to get done for the first time in like a month so here it is!! finishing this fic was a journey within itself, but i can honestly say that it was also kind fun? also, i saw a picture of max in his suit from vegas and that just inspired this whole thing, so i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

Max is buzzing with life, quite literally, you can feel him practically buzzing the whole time he’s trying to take you back to your hotel room as fast as possible. It’s most likely due to the amount of alcohol the two of you have consumed after the race. Honestly it is pure luck that you found your way back to your room, given your current state, but instead of joining you when you jump on the bed, revelling in its comfort, he chooses to stand at the end of the bed as he watches you with an entertained smile on his face.  

“What?” you ask, a laugh washing through you as you raise yourself on your elbows, “Why are you looking at me like that?”  

He lets his eyes wander over your figure, his smile becoming more boyish as he lets it widen on his face, “You look pretty,” he murmurs, bending down so he can lower himself over your body better, “have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?” 

“Um, yeah, Maxie,” you giggle as you point out, “you’ve been telling me that the entire night.” Using your hands as support while raising yourself more so that you could be face to face with him, “I think you look pretty too, you know?” 

“Yeah?” Max murmurs, cradling your jaw in one of his hands, his thumb quick to caress the apple of your cheek, which causes you to lean into his touch. “What if I wanted to kiss you, would that be okay?” 

The smile you offer him in return is sweet, the way your eyes seem to shine at the offer of feeling his lips against yours makes his heart beat faster in his chest. “Yes, please.” Your voice is softer, almost comes out as a whisper due to you suddenly feeling out of breath.  

And who is he to deprive his girl? 

He doesn’t waste any time pressing his lips against your awaiting ones, in fact, the movement of his lips are rushed, if not almost desperate. It's as if he can't get enough, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away like sand through his fingers. The taste of alcohol lingers on both your lips, and normally you would be weirded out about it, but you realise it only adds to the intensity of the kiss you’re sharing with Max. His fingers gently tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, and you find yourself responding eagerly. You let him take control, mostly because it’s so easy for you to lose yourself in his kiss. He’s lost in it too, if you had to guess, because the way his tongue is fighting over yours for dominance is so different compared to the way Max usually kisses you. You whine at the loss of his lips when he reluctantly pulls away, and if he wasn’t already hard, the sound makes Max’s cock instantly harder. His head is thrown back, eyes closed as he lets out a groan, and he has to stop himself from pulling you in for another kiss. But you clearly have other plans as you drag your lips down towards his jawline, leaving kisses in a random pattern until you reach that one specific point on his neck that absolutely drives him crazy.  

And you know it’s only a matter of time until he stops you, again, as he has done for the past whatever months of your relationship. It’s not that you are not attracted to each other, because the attraction is as clear as day, and you have done stuff – not sex, but stuff. You’re not sure Max does that, but you also don’t want to be the one who pressures him into having sex with you if he doesn’t want to. Unbeknownst to you, the same goes for Max, who thinks you’re not ready to have sex with him and wants your first time together to be as special as possible.  

So no, you’re not surprised as he gently peals himself from you, causing you to whine again at the loss of him, but instead he gives you a small kiss on the forehead as he mumbles, “Why don’t you take a shower? We’ll go to bed after that.”  

“Is that your way of telling me I smell?” You ask in a playful tone, and he responds to you with a roll of his eyes. “What if I don’t want to go to sleep?”  

“No?” He asks, actively searching your expression for any sign of discomfort or reluctance. “We’ve had a long day, are you sure you don’t want to get some sleep?” The look you give him in return for his question is enough, and he knows this, but he also wants to actually hear the words, so he points, “Use your words, liefje.” 

A puff of breath leaves your lips in annoyance, but, nonetheless, you give him the best puppy dog eyes you can muster as you whine, “Please Maxie, you know what I want.”  

“Do I?” He muses, pulling you onto his lap as he ghosts his lips across your jaw. “I don’t know what you mean.”  

“Maxie,” you drag out his name, whining as your attempt at rolling your hips against his thighs don’t work. “You are being mean.”  

“Oh, baby,” he mockingly copies your pout, “I’m sorry. Can I apologise with a kiss?” To make his point, he presses a couple of soft kisses along your jawline.  

“Will you kiss me the way I like?” You ask, slightly out of breath, but his agreement that comes in the form of a hum makes you smile mischievously. His lips trail more kisses towards the neckline of your dress, and eventually through the valley between your breasts that is exposed by the lack of fabric. And you have every intention to let him have his way with you, you really do – after all, he won another great race. But a part of you also knows that making him suffer, even if just a little bit, in the process is so much more fun. So, just as he’s about to free of your breasts from the bustier of your dress, you quickly move away, slipping from his hands, trying your hardest not to laugh at the bewildered expression on his face. “On second thought, I think I’m going to take that shower after all.”  

“I—what?” Max mumbles, his slightly swollen lips pulled in a pout, and you can’t help but give him a small kiss.  

“I’ll see you after my shower, Max Emilian.” Sauntering over to the bathroom, you make sure to add an extra sway to your hips – and the sigh that Max leaves cause the smirk on your face to grow. 

It’s pure torture for Max to wait until you come out of the shower. Not that he doesn’t think about just joining you, especially after the show you just put on, but that would be giving into what you want – and though Max is a generous lover, he is also stubborn. He is more than happy to give you what you want, as long as it is on his terms. And so, he waits patiently, until you come out of the bathroom, a robe draped over your body, and he can’t help himself but let his eyes roam over your body.  

“How was your shower?” Max asks, trying to keep his voice as nonchalant as possible, a wolfish grin curving up on his lips. He rests his hands behind his head, relaxing onto the pillows behind him. He watches you give him a shrug, the soft-looking material sliding of your shoulder slightly as you collect your hair onto your shoulder. “Are you giving me the silent treatment, pretty girl?” 

There’s a coy smile on your face as you shake your head, once, twice, as your teeth press down on your bottom lip. Max wants nothing more than to release your lip, pull you into his lap and have his way with you, but no. No, because Max is nothing if not disciplined. “Come here,” he asks, straightening up in his place. You, being the ever-loving girlfriend you are, oblige his request. “That is a nice robe,” he murmurs, tilting his head as he grabs the towelette belt with the tips of his finger, “is it as soft as it looks?” 

“Mhm-hm,” you nod, “do you want to feel it?” 

“Do I want to feel it?” Max muses, “Sure.” His arms wrap around your middle so quickly that you don’t realise he’s pulling you into his lap at first. But he positions you with your legs on the either side of his. “You’re right, liefje, it is very soft.” His hands roam on your body over the soft material, but soon enough, his hands dipping underneath it to feel your skin. His eyebrows shoot upwards, a mischievous grin spreading on his lips, “No underwear?” 

“Well, I just came out of the shower, Maxie.” You give him an innocent look, shrugging once against as you rest your hands against his shirt-clad chest. “The shower pressure was great, you should’ve joined me.”  

He lets out a noncommittal hum, his hands roaming on your bare skin, revelling in the softness. “I’ll have to take your word for it.” He’s methodical as he slightly shifts you in his lap, tearing a gasp from the back of your throat. That gets a satisfied smile from him, “Something wrong?” 

“N-no,” you mumble, shifting again to get the same feeling, but his hands still you in your place. “Maxie,” you whine, silently pleading with your eyes.  

“Am I being mean again?” He asks, attentive eyes fixed on you, “I would offer to make it up to you with a kiss, but you seem to find ways to evade me when I do.”  

“No,” you whine again, lips pouted in disagreement. “I promise I won’t this time.”  

His eyebrows shoot up again with amusement, “Oh, yeah? Shall we test that theory, pretty girl?” The smile you give him is shy, but the way you nod is nothing short of coy. With a satisfied sound leaving his lips, he quickly presses his lips against yours. You sigh into the kiss, immediately, when you feel him deepening the kiss, more than happy to surrender yourself to him and let Max take the lead. Though, that doesn’t necessarily stop you from attempting to relieve the pressure between your legs by rolling your hips against his thighs. Your efforts, however, prove to be useless as he stops the movement before you can actually relieve any of it. He slowly pulls away, pushes a stray piece of wet hair behind your ear and tuts – condescendingly, you might add – “Slow down, liefje, I think I’ve had enough speed for one day.”  

Groaning at his words, “But Maxie,” you whine, dragging out his name as you let your hands wander on his chest over his shirt and receive a warning look from him in return, “I promise I’ll be good, please just fuck me.”  

“Baby,” he coos, his fingers working quickly to unfasten the belt of your robe and push the offending clothing off your shoulders, “I literally just told you to be patient, no?” 

You ignore the raised eyebrow, the look of faux-disappointment, and even the way his fingers grab your waist because you’re too busy trying to get him out of his shirt, suddenly feeling too exposed as you sit on his lap naked. “Please,” you whisper against his skin, peppering kisses across the column of his throat as your hands make their way inside his shirt, “I’ll be patient next time.”  

“I’m suddenly realising that I spoil you very much,” Max mumbles, pulling his head back to get a look at you.  

Pulling back as well you give him a mischievous grin, “Maybe, but you’ll give me what I want this time as well.”  

“Yeah?” He asks, “Why?” 

“Because I think I’m getting your pants very messy right now.”  

Max can’t help the groan that escapes past his lips, his eyes quickly following yours as he takes in the ‘damage’ your wetness has caused on his jeans. He takes a moment to assess the damage, drags his eyes up to look at you when he notices the way your eyes stay fixed down, as your nervously bite down on your lower lip. He loses all the composure he managed to muster up, and he finally gives in, quickly pushing you off him onto the pillows on the bed. The squeal that leaves you is followed by a string of giggles that leave your lips, and when Max looks at you, he takes in the darker look in your widened eyes.  

“I was going to be patient; I can’t believe you’re making me not be patient.” He mumbles, taking off his shirt and the rest of his clothes before starting to leave kisses on your feverish skin as he slides down your body and places himself between your thighs.  

You open your legs wider to accommodate his body, a breathy laugh escaping past your lips. “You mean, impatient?” 

That earns you a nip on your upper thigh and a warning look, but instead of commenting on your quip, he lowers his face, keeps his eyes locked to yours and gets to work. And it’s not that you and Max haven’t done stuff – because it’s the opposite; although you haven’t had sex, it’s safe to say that the two you have explored every option bordering on sex. But how he’s acting right now is much different than the way how he is usually with you. His movements are almost rushed, and the way he drags his tongue through your folds is just enough for your eyes to roll back as your moans fill the room.  

Normally, he would be extra careful and make sure he is being gentle with you; but right now, he’s just trying to savour you before he loses all his composure. A choppy gasp leaves you as you feel his fingers enter you – two at first, and the way he pumps them in and out of you makes breathing harder. The speed of his fingers matches his tongue, and for a moment, you think you’re going to pass out. With his free hand, he blocks any type of movement you try with your hips; his palm sneakily presses down on your lower stomach to keep you in your place, but it’s jokes on him because if anything, it just makes you feel even better, and you’re not shy to let him know just how much he’s making you feel good with your moans.  

“Max,” you say his name in a breathy whimper, fingers threading through his hair to guide him, “fuck, I’m so close.” You can practically feel the way his lips curl up, and suddenly, everything about his actions gets faster. His fingers are pistoning in and out of you in an unforgiving pace, in sync with his tongue that works your clit just the same. So, it’s no surprise when you find yourself coming on his tongue as his name leaves your lips for the umpteenth time like a prayer.

The smirk he gives you when he pulls himself from between your legs is sinful – he looks absolutely debauched with the way his lips glisten with your release, and he wastes no time before coming up, and capturing your lips in yet another bruising kiss. But this time, you taste yourself on his tongue and this time it makes you lose the whatever little resolve you’ve had left. So, you hook your leg around his thigh to push him next to you on the bed as you practically throw him next to you on the bed.  

Though he has other plans.   Of course.  

So, as you’re trying to fight the seventy-kilogram-something driver into staying under you on the bed, he has no problem manhandling you into rolling on your side. And as you’re pressed flush against his chest, you turn your head backwards to breathlessly whisper, “You promised, Max.”  

“And I am a man of my word, aren’t I?” He retorts, his hand that is splayed on your thigh positions it so that it’s bent towards your stomach, “Just needed to get you ready.” You can’t help the guttural moan that escapes you when you feel him pressing the tip of his cock into your entrance. The pleading look you give him must’ve worked, because this time it’s his turn to let out a guttural moan as he pushes himself into you. There is no sign of his mood from mere moments ago as you feel his hands caress your bare hip, an entitled smirk on his lips as he asks, “Out of breath?” 

“Fuck you,” your response comes out as a breathy laugh as you’re pushing your hips closer to his to take him deeper.  

“Lifje, you are fucking me.” Max giggles into the crook of your neck as he pushes himself in fully. You would be furious with him if it didn’t make you laugh also, and although the laughing decrease, the smiles remain on both your faces as he starts slowly moving his hips. 

It’s sweet, unbelievably sweet, considering the sexual tension that was in the room an hour ago, but the way Max is fucking you can only be described as sweet. His hands caress every part of your body that he can reach – your thighs, to your hips, to your stomach, to your chest and then wraps one of his hands around your throat; not in a way that is rough, but in a way that he can still keep you still as he captures your lips for another kiss. The movement of his hips is languid, almost lazy as drive into you, but he still manages to hit all the spots along the way. Breathy chuckles are exchanged when he pulls away for you to organise your breathing, but your smiles still stay on, even when he raises your bent leg and rests his on his own leg. The new angle makes your moans get louder, your hips to move against his faster, and you can feel your orgasm approach speedily.  

But Max is so in tune with your body that he knows what’s coming (or rather who) before you get a chance to actually have to say anything. His hand slides down your body so that he can press his fingers to your clit and move them in tight circles, and as if it was possible, his you can suddenly feel him fucking you even deeper. “You are going to come for me pretty girl, I can feel it.” He murmurs into your skin, and all you can offer as an answer is a nod and an affirmative whimper as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Come on, give it to me, come on my cock.” And though he is not the most verbal person to ever exist, except for when he’s in the mood to be an absolute yapper, his words urge you to let go of the feeling that has been starting to brew in your stomach.  

Your hips start moving to meet his in choppy movements as you seek any and all kinds of pleasure to reach your high, and he meets your every move with increasing intensity of his own. “Max, yes!” Your exclamation hits his ears as he hits that one particular spot, making you instantly become lax in his arms as he guides you through your orgasm. His name spills out from your lips in constant repetition, “So good, so good,” you keep mumbling in breathless whimpers, trying to press yourself further into his body.  

With all things considered, it doesn’t take Max long to reach his own high following your own, since you insistently move your hips in a way that makes you take his cock even deeper when he’s helping you ride your orgasm. So, when you hear him groaning your name in the crook of your neck and feel him spilling himself into you. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he croaks out, holding your hips in place with his hands splayed on your feverish skin. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?” 

“How am I supposed to know, dummy?” You ask, throwing your head back to get a good look of his dishevelled state, “Why do you look so good after mind blowing sex?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, pulling you with him as he lets himself fall back on the bed, “genetics?” 

“Mhm,” you murmur, trying to find a comfortable position on his chest as he is still inside you, “remind me to send your mother a flower arrangement when we get back, or something.” 

A deep blush covers his cheeks, as if he hasn’t been fucking you for the past hour or so, as he stammers, “I– I mean, yeah.” This time, it’s your turn to give a non-committal hum, followed by a satisfied sigh as you snuggle him closer and close your eyes. “Just go to sleep, baby, we can deal with it in the morning.” 

“’Mkay,” you mumble, feeling his hand draw soothing circles on your back. “But you’re still gonna fuck me tomorrow, right?” 

This gets another loud laugh from the driver laying down under you, and both of you know that he’s going to do just that when you wake up in the morning. 

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen fluff #mas verstappen smut

[pickingupmymercedes]

As good as chocolate - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

requests: "I was on tik tok and I found that video of Lewis where they ask him if he prefers chocolate or sex, and he answers that he likes both together, could you please make magic with that, write something sexy pls." - anon 1

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities (all sorts), food play.

Also, wrap it before you tap it guys

wordcount: +2K

a/n: Something sweet to cheer us up before the race because we need it.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The weight of the day hung heavily between them, the silence all the way from the track punctuated only by their quiet sighs. After a grueling qualifying session that was supposed to be great but went disastrously, they were both frustrated and worn out.

As soon as they stepped into the room, Y/N turned and pulled Lewis into a tight hug. At first, he didn't hug her back, his body rigid with tension, but eventually, she felt him start to relax, his shoulders slumping slightly as he let out a long breath.

“Go take a hot shower” she murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. Lewis nodded, grateful for her understanding.

The sound of the water running was a soothing backdrop as Y/N settled onto the plush sofa, reaching for the familiar comfort of her chocolate. That had been her thing for years now, tiny drops of dark chocolate to get her mind away from the problems.

She unwrapped a small piece and held it delicately between her fingers, letting out a sigh as she tried to let the dark richness of the treat melt away the stress of the day.

When Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he found Y/N with the chocolate in hand. She saw the look in his eyes, his posture still hunched, and offered him a piece stretching her arms towards him, her eyes soft with concern and no courage to break the silence heavy in the bedroom.

“You must think I look awful if you’re offering me your chocolate,” he said, attempting to lighten the mood despite his lingering frustration.

Feigning annoyance, Y/N rolled her eyes. “Just take it, Hamilton.”

Lewis chuckled, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. He took the offered chocolate, savoring the taste as he slumped beside her on the sofa.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice a little lighter now.

“You needed it more than I did,” she replied, smiling gently.

They sat in the comfortable silence for a moment, the warmth between them growing as the chocolate worked its magic.

“Do you want to talk about what happened today?” Y/N asked gently, her fingers brushing against his arm as his hands held her thigh firmly.

Lewis sighed deeply, taking his time to answer. “I just... I thought... God, I don't know” he confessed, frustration and confusion evident in his voice.

Seeing the turmoil in his eyes, Y/N decided it was time to shift his focus from the day’s disappointments. She broke off another piece of chocolate and held it out to him with a playful glint in her eyes, her way to offer comfort without pushing too hard. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“You’re trying to fatten me up?” he teased.

“Nope,” she said, leaning in closer. “Just thought we could both use a bit more sweetness tonight.”

Lewis took the piece, but instead of eating it, he swiftly stole another square from her fingers, popping it into his mouth with a mischievous grin. “You looked like you needed saving from that chocolate though.”

“Oh, really? And how do you propose to save me now?” she teased, her eyes now twinkling.

Lewis reached over to the coffee table, picking up the rest of the chocolate bar. He broke off another square and held it out to her, his eyes dancing with playful intent.  When she reached for the piece, he quickly pulled back, a daring threat to his eyes.

Y/N leaned forward, her lips brushing against his fingers as she took the chocolate into her mouth, her tongue flicking lightly against his skin. Lewis’s breath hitched at the sensation, the warmth of her mouth earning her a moan from him.

"That's a new way to claim your share" Lewis said, his voice husky.

The playful glint in Y/n's eyes intensified. "Maybe I just wanted something else besides the chocolate."

Taking the hint, Lewis broke off another piece, but this time, he didn’t offer it immediately. He leaned in, his lips capturing hers in a slow, tantalizing kiss. The taste of chocolate mingled with the sweetness of her mouth, making his head spin. He could feel her heartbeat quicken against his chest, her body responding to every touch and kiss.

Y/N moaned softly into the kiss, her hands sliding up his chest, fingers tangling in his muscles. He pulled back just enough to break the kiss, his eyes locking onto hers as he brought the chocolate to her lips again. She took it eagerly, her tongue tracing his fingers, savoring both the chocolate and the intimate touch.

Their kisses grew hungrier, more urgent, as the chocolate melted between them. Y/N pressed closer to Lewis, her body heating with every touch and caress. Lewis’s hands roamed over her back, sliding under her shirt to feel the warmth of her skin, the soft moans she made driving him wild.

"Chocolate does taste better shared," Lewis murmured, his voice thick with desire.

Y/n's eyes danced with mischief. "Maybe we should share something else too."

With a wicked grin, he pulled the towel from his waist and laid her down on it in the bed, the plush fabric soft beneath her. He took the chocolate bar and began placing small pieces on her body—atop her nipples, her belly button, tracing a sweet path down her skin.

The coolness of the chocolate against her warm flesh giving her goosebumps.

“You look good enough to eat,” Lewis whispered, his breath hot against her skin. He began at her collarbone, his lips and tongue trailing down, capturing each piece of chocolate. The heat from her body started to melt the chocolate, making it run in delicious rivulets that he eagerly licked up.

Y/N’s breaths came faster, her body arching towards him with every kiss and lick. The sensations were almost too much to bear as his lips traveled lower, the melting chocolate mixing with the heat of his mouth. He reached her nipples, the chocolate now a sticky mess that he lapped up with relish, his tongue circling the hardened peaks.

“Lewis” she gasped, her hands clutching at the fabric beneath her.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, a smirk playing on his lips as he continued his sweet torture. He moved lower, his mouth tracing a path to her belly button, where the chocolate had started to pool into a tempting little reservoir. He moaned as he licked it up, the sound vibrating against her skin.

“God, you taste amazing,” he groaned, his lips smeared with chocolate as he kissed his way back up her body.

Y/N pulled him up for another kiss, the taste of chocolate and Lewis mingling on her tongue. Lewis’s hands roamed over her body, spreading the melted chocolate across her skin, creating a deliciously messy art.

He moved back to her breasts, his mouth lavishing attention on her nipples, making her writhe beneath him. The chocolate spread with every kiss and lick, his tongue working magic as he trailed down her body once more.

“More” she whispered, her voice a plea and a command.

Lewis obliged, moving back up to capture her lips in a searing kiss, his chocolate-smeared lips mingling with hers in a sweet, sticky mess. Their hands roamed, touching, caressing, and spreading the chocolate across their heated skin.

Y/N gently pushed Lewis back, her eyes gleaming with mischief and desire as he studied her actions.

“Your turn,” she whispered, a playful grin spreading across her lips.

Lewis raised an eyebrow, curiosity and anticipation lighting up his eyes. “Yeah?”

Without answering, Y/N sat up on his lap, reaching for a piece of the chocolate and placing it delicately on his collarbone. Leaning in, she kissed and licked at the chocolate, trailing her lips along his shoulder, nibbling lightly, making him gasp.

“Mmm, Y/N” he breathed, his voice a husky whisper.

She continued her sweet torture, placing tiny pieces of chocolate along his collarbones and neck, his body responding and leaning back on his arms to give her full access.

The mixture of sweetness and the salty tang of his skin was intoxicating, and she could feel his body reacting beneath her touch, muscles tensing and relaxing in rhythm with her movements.

Lewis’s breath hitched as she moved lower, her fingers dancing over his chest, tracing his defined muscles. She reached his abdomen, placing a piece of chocolate right in the middle of his compass tattoo. The chocolate began to melt almost immediately, dripping enticingly down his skin.

Y/N’s fingers trailed through the melted chocolate, spreading it along the crevices of his six-pack. She moved slowly, savoring each moment, her tongue following the path her fingers had traced. Lewis groaned as she licked the chocolate from his abs, not even trying to contain his sounds.

“God, Y/N, that feels incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with need.

She smirked, taking her time with each piece of chocolate, savoring the way his body responded to her touch. When she finally reached the piece in the center of his compass tattoo, it had melted into a sticky mess. She dragged her tongue through the remnants, her eyes flicking up to meet his as she did.

“You taste so good,” she whispered, her voice full of promise.

Lewis’s eyes darkened with lust, his breaths coming in shallow pants. Y/N moved lower, guiding the chocolate down to his belly button, her lips and tongue never leaving his skin. She kissed and licked at the melted chocolate, her mouth following the delicious trail she had created.

Lewis moaned, his hands gripping at any of her skin he could reach, her mouth working its magic. The combination of her warm lips, the cool chocolate, and the gentle scrape of her teeth against his skin was driving him to the brink of madness. He could barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as she continued her exploration.

Y/N’s fingers traced patterns in the chocolate, her touch feather-light yet electrifying. She dipped her tongue into his belly button, licking up the melted chocolate with a satisfied hum. The sensation made Lewis thrust upwards, a deep groan escaping his lips.

“Y/N, please” he begged, his voice a strained whisper.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of affection and desire. “Please what?” she teased, her fingers dancing across his skin.

“Don’t stop,” he pleaded, his body trembling with need.

Smiling, Y/N moved back up, her lips capturing his in a searing kiss. The taste of chocolate and each other mingled, making the kiss even more intoxicating. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her hands, his body responding to every touch.

When Y/N finally broke from the kiss, she gazed deeply into Lewis's eyes. A wicked smile spread across her lips as she whispered, “I think I’ve had enough dessert. I want my main course.”

Her hands trailed down his body, reaching to wrap her fingers around his hard dick. Lewis groaned, his head falling back in pure pleasure.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his voice heavy with desire.

His hands didn't waste any time, reaching for her uncovered folds too. His fingers sliding through her wetness, and they both moaned into each other's mouths, the intensity of their touch driving the other wild.

“Not gonna last long like that, love” he admitted, his voice strained with need.

She smirked and withdrew her hand his dick springing free, slapping back against his smeared chocolate abs. Leaning down, she licked a strip where the chocolate was now sticking to the skin of his dick, the bittersweet taste mingling with his familiar one.

Lewis hissed. He reached for her, his strong hands maneuvering her body effortlessly until she lay on the bed beneath him. His eyes were dark with hunger and want, his fingers finding her pussy again. He collected her juices on his fingers and brought them to his mouth as he looked down at her, tasting her with a satisfied hum.

“Just as good as chocolate” he murmured; his voice thick with desire.

Y/N shivered at his words. Lewis’s touch was electrifying, his fingers exploring her with precision. She arched into him, her body aching for more, for everything he had to give.

“Lewis, please” she moaned, her voice a desperate plea.

He grinned, his eyes filled with a mix of adoration and lust. He kissed his way down her body, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. When he reached her core, he didn’t hesitate. His tongue replaced his fingers, licking and tasting her with fervent intensity. Y/N’s hands flew to his head, her fingers tangling in his braids as she cried out in pleasure.

“Yeah, just like that” she gasped, her body trembling under his ministrations.

He moaned against her, the vibrations sending waves through her. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he devoured her, his tongue working her into a frenzy. She could feel the pressure building, her release tantalizingly close.

“Gosh don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” she begged, her voice barely more than a breathless whisper.

And Lewis didn’t stop. He continued to taste and tease her until she finally shattered, her orgasm crashing over her. She cried out his name, her body convulsing with the force of her release. He didn’t let up, drawing out every last bit of her pleasure until she was a quivering, panting mess.

When he finally pulled away, his lips and beard glistened with her taste. He moved back up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. She could taste herself on him, the mixture of their flavors intoxicating.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered against her lips, his voice full of love and admiration.

“So are you” she replied, her own voice filled with affection.

But they weren’t done yet. The need between them just as strong, the hunger far from sated. Y/N’s hands found his dick again, stroking him with vigor. Lewis groaned, his hips bucking into her hand.

“Need you, Y/N” he murmured, his voice ragged.

“I’m yours,” she whispered, guiding him to her entrance.

Lewis positioned himself over her, his eyes locked onto hers as he slowly pushed inside her. The sensation was overwhelming, both of them gasping at the intensity of it. He filled her completely, their bodies fitting perfectly, moving together as if that’s what they’re meant to be doing at all times.

Their moans and gasps filling the room.

The sweet scent of chocolate still lingered in the air, mixed with the heady aroma of sex. Their chests, covered in the remnants of melted chocolate, stuck to each other, adding to the delicious mess they had created. Every touch, every kiss, every thrust brought them closer to the edge.

“I’m close” Lewis groaned, his pace quickening.

“Cum babe” she panted, her nails digging into his back.

With a few more thrusts, he filled her, his orgasm crashing over them in a wave of pure ecstasy.

They clung to each other, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks. The sticky sweetness of the chocolate only heightened their senses, the scent engraving into their brains the moment.

Lewis collapsed upon her, his weight grounding her. They lay there creating the most delicious mess they had ever made. Their breathing slowly returning to normal.

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at her. His eyes, once clouded with worry and frustration, were now softer. He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch tender.

"Thank you," he murmured, his voice sincere and filled with gratitude.

Y/N smiled up at him, her fingers tracing light patterns on his chest. "For the chocolate?" she asked softly.

"For taking my mind off things" he replied, his eyes locking onto hers and chuckling. "For being here, for understanding... for the chocolate"

Her heart swelled at his words, and she reached up to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing lightly over his skin. "You don't have to thank me" she whispered. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

Lewis leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "I love you," he whispered against her mouth.

"I love you, always" she replied, her voice full of emotion.

They lay there for a while longer. The day's disappointments seemed distant now, replaced by the warmth and comfort of their shared moment.

Y/N chuckled softly as she looked to the once white towel that lied underneath her "It’s going to be hard to explain this to the hotel staff."

Lewis laughed, the delicious sound resonating in her " We’re taking it as souvenir. Something to remind this weekend by." With a cheeky grin he sat up and scooped her into his arms. “Let’s go clean you up now, stinker,” he said with a lighter glint to his eyes.

Y/N smile, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her towards the bathroom. “Only if you join me” she teased.

“Wouldn’t dream of doing it any other way” he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he stepped into the bathroom.

______________________________________________________________

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#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 scenario #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton #lh #lh44 #lewis hamilton smut #lewis #lewis x reader #lewis imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lh44 x reader #lh44 imagine #lewis hamilton x you

[ckret2]

Chapter 54 of everybody being really eager to kill their prisoner human Bill Cipher for good: the gang's trying a new way to create fuel for the one weapon guaranteed to destroy Bill.

It goes so great.

As Ford drove to Northwest Manor, Dipper skimmed through the introduction to Flatworld, where Edward Bishop Bishop was pretending that his book had been dictated to him by a sentient square; but he couldn't focus on it. He sighed, shut the book, and stared out the passenger window at the passing trees.

"Something on your mind?" Ford asked.

"I'm thinking about the Axolotl's poem again. The one about Bill."

"Ah. Still trying to remember the rest?"

"Kinda. Mabel and I are working on it together," Dipper said. "But it's not that. I've just been wondering... what if the poem is... you know, part of a prophecy about Bill or something? Mabel remembered another line of the poem—'A different form, a different time.' What if the Axolotl was telling us why Bill's back as a human? Maybe we need him here—to, to use his powers to fight off a bigger threat or something. Do you think that's possible?" He held back another question: what happens if we kill him before then?

Ford frowned thoughtfully. "I've been thinking about the Axolotl as well," he said. "About the worlds I visited that called it a god of criminals, tyrants, and luck. That sounds to me like the exact kind of being that would be Bill's ally. And it's odd how resistant Bill was to telling us anything about the Axolotl, when it simply passed over town for a few seconds and then moved on. Why the secrecy? How does Bill think it benefits him for us not to know about it?" Ford shook his head. "I think you're on to something, Dipper—I think whatever the Axolotl told you is important. The question is: important for whom?"

Dipper's stomach turned. The Axolotl had radiated such kindness; it was hard for Dipper to believe it could be up to anything evil with Bill. But then—Dipper clutched at Flatworld with the damning biography on the back—but then, how many people had Bill himself fooled with the benevolent teacher act?

Dipper understood now why "Don't Trust Bill" had so quickly turned into "Trust No One." Even when you knew that there was only one real enemy—even when you knew that most people out there were still reasonably honest and friendly—you could never tell just how far Bill's shadow stretched. "I guess that's true. We can't really know."

"We can't know yet. But it is worth trying to figure out," Ford said. "I wish I could tell you where to start looking for answers. For now... we'll just have to consider anything possible."

Ford was right. But all the same, every time Dipper paranoidly asked himself What if Grunkle Ford is right, what if the Axolotl really is on Bill's side, a second, even more paranoid, even more worried voice asked, But what if he isn't?

####

When they arrived, Fiddleford was already in his lab, hard at work on the miniature particle accelerator they'd come to see him about.

"The paradox what was powering it started yowling" Fiddleford said. "So obviously it ain't a paradox no more."

Ford grimaced. "That does lay to rest whether the cat is alive or dead."

"Sure does," Fiddleford said, sighing. "So I let the cat outside and I'm rebuilding the whole contraption to run on a more robust paradox. I hope you've got better news for me, Stanford."

"We hope so too. I think Dipper might have the solution to our fuel generation problem."

They briefly explained Dipper's unfortunate puppet incident last summer—Fiddleford had to take a break in the middle to grab a cup of coffee, "To steady my nerves,"—its ongoing effects on his sleep, and the new developments of the last few days, culminating in Dipper learning how to project his soul out of his body—

—which, Ford now realized, he probably should have expected Fiddleford to take poorly.

"Sweet sasparilla!" Fiddleford kicked over his chair while jumping onto the nearest table. "You're dead?!"

"What?" Dipper said. "No, I—"

"You're like a ghost possessing a zombie!"

Dipper thought that over. "Whoa..."

But, even though Fiddleford thought the whole affair went against the rightful order of the world, he agreed that it was a sound idea and worth trying. "It's lucky that my tater tot and I hunted out all the ghosts in this place during our spring cleaning," he said, opening a cabinet. He retrieved what looked like a pair of vacuums redesigned to be worn like backpacks with an assortment of random electronics dangling from wires. He held up a set of goggles and headphones hanging off one of the vacuums. "I invented these doohickeys that'll let you see and hear ghosts! They'll let us keep in contact with Dipper while he's out of his body." He set the vacuums on a table near the miniature particle accelerator and said, "First, though—Stanford, I need you to help me rebuild this machine."

"Of course." Ford turned away from the vacuum he'd been inspecting to look at the miniature particle accelerator.

Dipper said, "Wait, there are other ghosts in this mansion?"

"Yep!"

"I hunted one at the Northwests' big party last year," Dipper said. "How many more ghosts are in here?"

"We've caught, oh... thirty or forty so far."

"Seriously? That's amazing." Dipper was already thinking about the amazing Ghost Harassers episode this place could have been. Maybe even a miniseries.

"Aw, it weren't that hard. If you leave the TV on, they like to flock around it to watch. All you've gotta do is hide in the corner until a whole big bunch of 'em are gathered 'round—and then ya get them!"

"Oh," Dipper said. "Huh. I just tricked one into getting trapped in a silver mirror."

"Well, that's right impressive too. I never woulda thunk of that," Fiddleford said. "Me and Tate have been sucking them into cooling pouches in these here vacuums and then sticking the pouches in a chest freezer down in the dungeon! Maybe I oughta line the freezer with silver."

"This place has a dungeon?" Dipper asked.

Before Fiddleford could respond, Ford asked, "Which parts are we replacing?" He was inspecting the miniature particle accelerator.

"All of them!"

Ford gave Fiddleford a surprised look. "All of them?"

"Yep! Every last one!"

"Is the design changing that much?"

"Nope! It's staying exactly the same!"

"Then... why can't we just use the same machine we already have?"

"We will be using the same machine!" Fiddleford smiled mischievously. "Or will we?"

"Ah! I see! The particle accelerator of Theseus," Ford said. "Very clever."

"And kinder on the local stray cats, I reckon."

Dipper offered his assistance, but the work involved too much welding and buzzsawing for him to try untrained, so he was directed to sit a safe distance away with the first aid kit. At least it gave him a chance to read some more. He had to shove aside a couple flashlights and the glue grenade to reach where the slim book had slid to the bottom of his backpack during their walk from the car.

He skimmed over some of the worldbuilding looking for the story before he realized the story was the wordbuilding and looped back. It was a lot bleaker than he expected, even after Mabel's warning. Rigid class system, oppressive government, all kinds of horrifying shape prejudices... Frustrating dream visits to the ignorant line people in the first dimension who didn't believe in the second dimension, and to the self-absorbed King Zero in the point-sized zeroth dimension who thought a whole universe was contained inside him... A just as frustrating visit from a sphere who simply couldn't explain the third dimension in a way the square protagonist could understand, which was even more annoying since the square had just seen how the first dimension couldn't comprehend the second for the same reasons, so why couldn't he accept the possibility of a third dimension he couldn't imagine? Dipper got that it was supposed to be a metaphor to help three-dimensional readers understand that not being able to visualize a fourth dimension didn't mean it was impossible; but still. Come on, man. Don't be stupid.

On the other hand, at least now Dipper had a framework to understand the concept of higher dimensions and probably a leg up on next year's geometry. Would high school geometry cover four-dimensional space?

After a couple of hours of work and a break for lunch, the miniature particle accelerator was rebuilt and ready for another attempt to generate fuel. Fiddleford pulled on one of his ghost vacuums like a backpack, put on the set of connected headphones and goggles, and settled his glasses on over the goggles. "Y'all ready?"

"Ready," Ford said. He was seated at the accelerator's monitors, holding the jug that would contain any NowUSeeitNowUDontium they generated, and wearing the other vacuum—with the goggles over his glasses, and he was a bit worried about how Fiddleford had positioned his.

"Ready," Dipper said, a tad less certainly. What if he couldn't do it today? What if he'd never actually been able to do it last night and the whole thing really had been a dream?

But Fiddleford flipped the accelerator's power on, stepped back, and said, "All right! Do your thing!"

"Okay." Dipper stared straight at the machine, and—eugh—thought about degloving his body from his soul, peeling out of his skin fingers first.

This was only the second time he'd left his body deliberately. He'd observed in the past that the mindscape was strangely gray and still compared to the real world—but he'd never realized just how stark and swift the change was, like all the color and warmth had been abruptly sucked from reality. He shivered.

Ford inhaled sharply. Fiddleford stumbled back against the nearest table and yelped, "Flipping flapjacks!"

"You can both still see me?" Dipper said. "Can you hear me, too?"

"Loud and clear," Ford said.

"Like the voices of the dead." Fiddleford shuddered. "Welp, let's get this over with. I don't like all this ghost business. It ain't natural."

Ford gave him an amused look. "Since when have you ever been concerned about what's 'natural'? Didn't the engineering club vote you 'most likely to build a robot that flies in the face of God'?"

"You hush! There's nothing unnatural about iron, electromagnetism, and flamethrowers."

Dipper studied his body's face, its eyes pointed blankly toward the particle accelerator. "Well, I'm looking at the experiment, but I'm definitely not thinking about it. I think that's half of the paradox?"

"That's right," Fiddleford said. "Now, you just—float yerself on over to the other side of the accelerator, and think about it without looking at it."

"Right." Dipper positioned himself directly across the accelerator from his body, shut his eyes, and tried to think experimental thoughts. He didn't know much about Dontium besides what Ford had written about it in Journal 3—that it was inert when you were looking at it and radioactive when you weren't—so, if the miniature particle accelerator generated any, would he get blasted with radiation? Or was his body staring at the accelerator enough to keep it inert? But no—it was supposed to fill up the jug Ford was holding, right? Ford was observing it. Dipper tried to imagine what must be happening inside the accelerator; how did it work, would particles spontaneously generate in the tubes? Maybe they circled around until they fell into the hose to the jug...

He heard Ford gasp. "Fiddleford, look at this— Don't listen to me Dipper, just keep—keep thinking whatever you were thinking!"

"Is it working?"

"It was! Don't let us distract you."

Dipper tried to ignore the sound of Fiddleford running over to Ford, and started humming to drown out their hushed conversation. That was good, right? It meant the experiment was working. Keep thinking about that—experiment. Experiment. Expeeeriment. ... He wondered if trying to do the experiment by putting himself and Tyrone on either side of the accelerator would have worked, or if it had to be Dipper's soul and his body—

"Hot diggety!" Fiddleford shouted. "We've reached critical mass!"

"What does that mean, is it bad?" Dipper opened one eye a crack, trying to squint enough that he couldn't see the particle accelerator. "Is it gonna explode?"

Ford explained, "It means we've generated enough Dontium that it can sustain its own existence. Now, even if you get distracted, what we've already generated will remain. It can only go up from here."

"Wow," Dipper said. "That only took, what, a couple of minutes?"

"Less than that! During our last attempt, we tried for hours without reaching critical mass," Ford said. "Your idea was right on the money. Excellent work, Dipper."

Dipper grinned. After all that anxiety, it was almost a letdown how easy it was, but the coolness factor made up for it. He could just imagine the conversations the first week of high school: What did I do over summer break? Oh, nothing much. Just synthesized a new element. To fuel a weapon custom-designed to kill an immortal chaos god. And did I mention I was a ghost at the time? It didn't quite top last summer's adventures, but...

Then something went wrong.

There was a noise halfway between the electric buzz of a tesla coil and the rip of Velcro being torn apart. A stench like burning hair filled the air. A line of shifting colorful light began worming its way out of the center of the particle accelerator and up into the air.

"Oh no. Ohhh no!" Fiddleford grabbed his head. "The micro-rips! The threadbare fabric of reality! Our experiment put too much of a strain on it! We tore straight through!" One foot bounced agitatedly, "Ohhh, I knew I shoulda run some calculations before substituting in Dipper for you and Stanley."

Dipper gasped as the line of light began to agonizingly stretch open wider. Reality began seeping over its edges and dripping through into the kaleidoscopic miasma beyond. It developed a second horizontal rip across its middle as reality stretched beyond endurance in multiple directions. "What—is that?" He was afraid he knew.

"A dimensional rift," Fiddleford said.

"The Nightmare Realm," said Ford.

The last frayed thread holding reality together snapped apart, and the rift tore open wide, fully exposing the Earth to the roaring roiling chaos beyond. 

They screamed.

"Hello?" A giant set of dentures with stubby arms and legs leaned through the rift. "Oh hey! Aren't you the guys that killed Bill?"

They screamed again.

"Is screaming how humans say hi?" the monster asked. "I'm Teeth. Aaah!" He turned toward Ford. "Hey! Fingers! Lookin' less electrocuted than the last time I saw you—"

Ford socked Teeth in the incisor, knocking him back through the rift. "Back, you! You and your 'friends' are not welcome in this dimension!"

"Ow. What the heck, man."

Fiddleford shouted, "Don't stop observing the Dontium!" He bounded across the room on all four to scoop up the milk jug and stare at it. 

Ford nearly toppled through the rift, and had to grab onto the miniature particle accelerator as the heaviest nearby object to anchor himself. The rift sucked on reality like a vacuum, and the longer it was open the more powerful it grew.

Over the roar of the rift, Dipper yelled "What do we do?!"

"We have to seal it! Before it sucks all of Gravity Falls into the Nightmare Realm!"

"How?!"

Last summer, the instant Bill had no longer been around to maintain the dimensional rift, it had also sucked reality into it, starting with everything that properly belonged in the Nightmare Realm; but then it had also quickly sealed itself back shut. On the other hand, this rift was just opening wider and wider. Maybe it wasn't like the rift Bill had used to enter Gravity Falls, then? Maybe it was structured more like the wormholes that had been left behind after Weirdmageddon—

"I've got it!" Ford picked up Dipper's body—trying not to shudder at how lifeless it felt—and unzipped his backpack. "Is the alien adhesive grenade still in here?"

"It should be! Let me see." Dipper floated over to peer into his backpack.

The rift was already strong enough to drag at Ford's clothing. The lightest objects in the room lifted into the air and were sucked through. Papers. Pencils. Coffee mugs. Dipper's soul.

He screamed. "GRUNKLE FORD!"

"Dipper!" Ford grabbed for Dipper's ankle, but his hand passed right through. Ford's blood ran cold as Dipper tumbled head over heels into the Nightmare Realm.

"Look at that," Teeth said, watching Dipper soar by. "Dinner delivery."

There was no difference between the mindscape and reality in the Nightmare Realm, if Ford followed Dipper  through he'd be able to get a grip on Dipper there. But how would he carry Dipper back to Earth without him melting through Ford's grasp the moment they were through the rift? Didn't matter, grab Dipper first, then figure it out—

Fiddleford shoved the jug of Dontium in Ford's hands as he ran past. "Watch over this!"

"What—!"

Fiddleford jumped into the Nightmare Realm, the end of a long extension cord tied around his waist. He stretched out the hose of his ghost vacuum and flipped a switch, and with a yelp Dipper's soul was sucked inside. Ford gasped in relief.

Trying to keep as much of his attention on the potentially-radioactive jug as possible, Ford reeled Fiddleford back in, shoved the jug in his hands, and dug into Dipper's backpack again until he found the alien adhesive grenade. He pulled the pin and chucked it through the rift. "Duck!"

He shielded Dipper's body and Fiddleford shielded the Dontium jug as the grenade exploded. Even so, the force of it blew aside everything within ten feet of the rift and sent both of them sprawling. When Ford glanced back over his shoulder, the adhesive had gummed up the opening of the rift like a popped glowing magenta bubblegum bubble; and as he watched, it sucked the opening shut. In a few seconds the air was still and quiet, and the only sign the rift had ever existed was an immense, jagged vertical line in the air around which the light refracted wrong.

Fiddleford gingerly got back to his knees, then pulled off his glasses and pushed up his goggles. One of the lenses had been crushed, and the glasses' frame was bent beyond repair.

Ford heaved a long, heavy sigh. "A bit too familiar, wasn't it?"

Fiddleford blinked at him. "Wasn't what?"

"The—reeling you in from the Nightmare Realm?" Ford said. At Fiddleford's blank look, Ford said, "The portal test?"

"Oh." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I... still don't remember it too clearly."

"Ah. Yes. Of course." Ford's stomach churned with guilt as he looked away from Fiddleford. Over thirty years late was too late to apologize, wasn't it? (Over the past year he'd wondered, again and again; and again and again he'd decided that it was.) "Thank you for saving—" He gasped, "Dipper!"

"Oh, right!" Fiddleford took off his vacuum, dropped it on the floor, and unzipped its bag. The ghosts of a Northwest in a buckskin coat and a confused-looking hippie escaped into the air. "Hey," Fiddleford barked. "You get back here!" He raised the vacuum's hose and flipped its switch. He caught the hippie, but as soon as she was sucked in she flew out the unzipped bag and off to freedom again. Fiddleford lowered the hose and shook a fist at the retreating spirits. "I'll get you ectoplasmic varmints, just you wait!"

Ford knelt on the floor and held the bag open wider. Dipper floated out, arms crossed tight and shivering. "So... so cold... and dark... and really, really dusty."

"Let's get you back where you belong."

Ford held up Dipper's body as he lay back down in it. He could see the moment color flooded back into Dipper's cheeks and his eyes focused again. Dipper groaned.

Ford said, "You're never doing that again."

"I am never doing that again," Dipper said.

"We can't do that again," Fiddleford said. "The fabric of reality in this town is too unstable to handle another paradoxical physics experiment that powerful! We'd rip open another rift to the Nightmare Realm!"

"And we just tossed away all of our remaining alien adhesive," Ford sighed. It left Gravity Falls vulnerable if any more rips formed. Sometime soon he'd have to go back to the alien crash site and see if there was any more adhesive he could scrounge up; but even if he did, they couldn't risk wasting more of it like this.

"But did we get what we needed?" Dipper asked.

Fiddleford held up the milk jug of Dontium and shook it. It had a strange shifting color, wavering between cyan and orange depending on the lighting. "Looks like we got about three-fourths of a gallon," Fiddleford said.

"It's only enough to fully power one shot," Ford said. "But... one shot is all it'll take to destroy Bill." His stomach flipped nervously as he said it. He'd been anxious every other time he'd prepared to kill Bill, but that had always been because he'd been preparing to battle for the fate of the universe with a godlike monster who could easily kill him or worse. For the first time, he was preparing to execute a defenseless prisoner, and he didn't know whether it would make the universe any safer.

For half the summer he'd hoped Bill was harmless. Now he wished he had proof that Bill wasn't, so that he could lay his conscience to rest.

Dipper looked as uncomfortable as Ford felt; but when he caught Ford's gaze, he hardened his expression and nodded. Ford nodded back.

"WOOHOO!" Fiddleford leaped his full height straight up, making Ford and Dipper start. "We done it! YAHOO!" He waved his hat around ecstatically, doing a little jig in place. "YIPPEE! HIP HIP HURRrr—hey, how come you fellers ain't celebrating?"

Ford didn't know how to explain without making Fiddleford worry he was at risk of falling under Bill's spell again. "We'll celebrate when he's dead."

####

"Who was at the door?" 8 Ball shouted. When he didn't get a response, he paused his game. "Teeth?"

Teeth waddled into the game room. His face was completely plastered shut with some kind of glowing purple glue.

Pyronica cracked up and Paci-Fire chuckled darkly. 8 Ball sighed, "What'd you get into, you idiot?"

Teeth waved his hands emphatically.

"All right, okay." 8 Ball stood and stretched. "Does anyone have the number of that lamp guy Bill used to hook up with?"

Half an hour later, having lured over Lava Lamp Guy with the false promise of ping pong pool and illicit liquids, they cornered him in a bathroom, with Zanthar sitting in the tub restraining him while Paci-Fire struggled to hold his face still.

"Please!" Lava Lamp Guy screamed. "Let me go! I'll do anything you want! My neurologist said I can't take much more of this!"

"Cease your complaints," Paci-Fire said, as 8 Ball took off Lava Lamp Guy's bowler. "You shall not dissuade us. We do this because we have no choice in the matter."

"Why not?!"

"Because none of us feel like making the trip to a dimension with a drugstore."

8 Ball stuck a soup ladle into the open top of Lava Lamp Guy's head and fished around until he got a scoop of the red goo floating around in the thinner orange liquid. Lava Lamp Guy howled in agony. Zanthar heaved a weary sigh.

8 Ball carried the ladle over to where Teeth was sitting on the toilet lid kicking his feet. "Here you go, bud."

Teeth clapped his hands, grabbed an oversized toothbrush, and held it out for 8 Ball to pour the goop on. He scrubbed his teeth until the goop dissolved the adhesive. "Whew!" He stretched his jaw a few times, then jumped to his feet. "Thanks! I was worried I was gonna miss karaoke night." He looked in the sink mirror to scrub off the remaining scraps of adhesive.

8 Ball put Lava Lamp Guy's hat back on. Lava Lamp Guy groaned, "I think I forgot my third husband."

"You've only been married twice," Hectorgon lied.

"Oh." Confused, Lava Lamp Guy said, "Alright."

Teeth muttered, "Blech, divorce memories." He grabbed a bottle of mouthwash to clear out the taste.

"So what happened?" Kryptos asked. He was hovering in the doorway beside Pyronica.

"I'unno. I think the Dimension 46ers were messing around with their portal or something? They opened up a portal here."

"What? Uh-uh," Pyronica said. "It had to be some other dimension. We just invaded them, why would they open the portal again?"

"No no, that sounds like humans to me," Kryptos said. "If one of them pushes a button and immediately dies, the guy standing next to him will go, 'I wonder if it does that every time.' I've seen them do it."

"It was definitely them, I saw that local contractor Bill recruited for the portal who went nuts. Fingers or whoever."

8 Ball groaned. "You mean the guy that invaded the Quadrangle and tried to kill everybody?"

"Yeah. That guy. He told me I wasn't welcome on Earth and chucked a glue bomb in my face. I was like, well alright, buddy, I'm not the one who opened up a portal in your house, you could have just stayed home instead of ruining my day," Teeth said. "I didn't really say that to him. I thought it."

"So now the humans are invading us." Pyronica threw her hands in the air. "Great! This is just terrific! Bill teaches them how to make their own portals, they follow us home, and now we're about to have a pest problem that knows how to use tools! How long is it until this whole place is crawling with humans?! I'm going househunting, how many rooms should I look for? 8 Ball?"

"I'm in."

"Teeth?"

Teeth sighed, but said, "Yeah. The neighborhood's going downhill. Especially if we're gonna have a pest problem."

"Big Z?"

Zanthar gave a thumbs up.

Pyronica looked at Paci-Fire. He averted his gaze. Pyronica said, "Paci?"

Sullenly, he said, "We should ask Keyhole's opinion as well."

She laughed in disbelief. Nobody cared about Keyhole's opinion, he went with whatever everyone else went with. Appealing to Keyhole was just a delaying tactic. "Fine, sure. We'll get Keyhole's opinion."

"I'm not going," Hectorgon said, crossing his arms.

Relieved, Kryptos said, "Yeah. Me neither."

"You don't have to," Pyronica snapped. "You two and Morph can wait for Bill to come back from the dead as long as you want. But the rest of us are leaving."

Kryptos tilted toward the hall, gesturing for Hectorgon to follow him away from the others. "How long do you think we can hold this place without the outerplanars?" The Quadrangle was all that remained of Bill's turf. Without Bill's energy boosting them, none of the shapes were particularly powerful. They'd always depended upon the other Henchmaniacs to guard Bill's stronghold, the heavy-hitters like Zanthar and Pyronica. Even Bill preferred to let them fight his battles when he could; Bill's energy was much vaster, but less renewable.

Hectorgon grimaced uncertainly. "We've gotta think of something fast."

####

Dipper stared at the jug in his lap, ensuring it didn't turn radioactive before they got home. Bill practically seemed to have a radar for Ford—and on top of that, could see through walls—but as far as he cared Dipper may as well have not even existed; so they'd decided that Ford would go in the main door to ensure Bill's attention was turned away while Dipper went through the gift shop and took the elevator down to Ford's study. Ford had told Dipper where to find a lead locker that would keep the Dontium contained until Ford could use it to refuel the Quantum Destabilizer; all he had to do was put it in and stare through the crack until he'd slammed the door shut.

And once they'd decided on that, the drive home had fallen deathly silent.

As the Mystery Shack appeared through the trees, Dipper asked, "We're doing the right thing, right?" His voice was quiet. "I hate him, but—we owe him our lives. And there's that prophecy..."

"Lives can't be owed," Ford said. "Yesterday he may have saved us, but tomorrow he would still destroy our world in a heartbeat. We can be grateful to be alive—but we can't let that stop us."

"So, we're doing the right thing?"

Ford was silent for much longer than Dipper would have liked. "I hope so."

####

(We're moving toward some important stuff!! Hope y'all enjoyed and I'm looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this week's chapter!)

#dipper pines #stanford pines #grunkle ford #fiddleford mcgucket #henchmaniacs #(for the art & chapter) #bill cipher #human bill cipher #(who doesn't make an appearance in this chapter but the whole fic's about him and nobody can shut up about him so he's getting tagged) #(is this the first chapter bill hasn't appeared in?? might be) #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

[cinnabunwanda]

Eating out ✰ Natasha Ramnoff ⌇DRABBLES

content warning — smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, clit play (sort of?), dirty talk

pairing — fem reader x natasha romanoff

summary — Nat, captivated by your soft lips, manipulates her, causing her to moan your name. You feel guilty for Steve and Bucky, causing her to swell and twitch.

word count — 712

authors note — hey guys! so sorry that I haven't been posting i've been away with my husband. its also hard to post and get out of bed when you have depression lmao. so I will try and be regular when posting ty all!!

The softness of your lips always surprised Nat, even though she had been in this position countless times before. Each time, the teasing touch of your tongue against her sensitive folds sent shivers down her spine and left her moaning your name.

"Mmm, you're so good at that, baby," she moaned breathlessly, loving how effortlessly you could bring her to bliss. It was a high that she knew she could never achieve without you.

"You like that, don't you?" You smirked confidently as you continued to pleasure her with your skilled tongue.

"Yes!" Nat's cry only motivated you further as you worked your magic on her. You didn't feel the need to hold down her hips or ask her to be quiet; the feeling of her grinding against your face only added to the intensity. And as for any noise...well, let's just say the Avengers were used to your "private activities."

Your hair was tugged gently by Nat's hand as she reached new levels of pleasure, sending a deliciously painful sensation through your scalp and adding to the excitement coursing through your body. This was what you loved most - being on your knees on the plush carpet (installed by Tony at Nat's request) and worshiping every inch of her pale skin. Your plump lips danced along her spread thighs, leaving teasing kisses and playful nips on her hips.

But finally, they would find their way to her most sensitive spot - her swollen clit. With a soothing rhythm of sucking and flicking with your tongue, you could feel yourself grinning as Nat whined and squirmed beneath you. The little bud between your teeth would send shocks of pleasure through both of you as it was pulled out in a slow motion before being released back into place.

"Please." That one word was music to your ears and fueled your own desire for her. It was a sound that you craved - the way Nat's lips formed and shaped around the word, begging for more.

"Please what, princess? Do you want me to stop?" For added emphasis, you pulled away completely, leaving her body cold and craving your touch.

"No!" Nat's whispered plea was met with her hands reaching for you, her hips wriggling on the bed as she tried to get closer to you. The covers twisted and bunched around her hips as she squirmed in pleasure under your skillful touch.

"Oh? So my little baby wants me to make her cum?" Your voice was teasing, but also a bit cruel as you pushed your lips into a pout and ran your hands over her quivering thighs.

"Please, please make me cum." It wasn't often that Nat begged; she enjoyed being in control. But today, just like every now and then, you convinced her to give up that control and let you take care of her.

"Say my name. Moan it, scream it, and I'll make you cum." You demanded this promise from her, a devious smirk playing on your lips when she whispered your name. "Does it feel good to say my name, baby? Do you like having it on your tongue?"

She screamed your name this time, so loud that you almost felt guilty for Steve and Bucky - their enhanced hearing would definitely pick up on what was happening between the two of you. But you couldn't bring yourself to care as you leaned in again, ready to pleasure your girl.

When she came, it was loud and beautiful. Nat's mouth was open in a silent scream - the telltale sign that she was seeing stars - while her legs shook and hips thrust, chasing your mouth as you leaned back to watch.

Your fingers glided over her thighs, eventually reaching her clit in small circles to help prolong her orgasm. You watched hungrily as Nat's plump lips were pulled between her teeth, biting and manipulating them until they were raw and swollen.

"That's it, just like that." Nat was coming back down to earth, your soothing voice bringing her back as her chest heaved and thighs twitched under your touch.

But your fingers still remained on her clit, slow yet persistent as you hummed thoughtfully.

"I think I want you to do that again; maybe I can make you squirt this time."

©Elena do not copy, edit, or translate my works.

#marvel smut #natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff smut #wlw smut #gxg smut #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #x reader

[wonysugar]

you know the drill i fear.. BEFORE YOU GUYS YELL AT ME just know that i’m sorry and i’m trying incredibly hard to get all of my drafts done<//3 IT’S HARD WRITING WHEN NO INSPO HITS YOU OKAY… but for now, please accept some of these fresh drabbles, i’m sorryrjrnrnf

now… NOW…… mid 2023 sugar may or may not have possessed me on this fine morning because hellooo i miss short black bob chaewon BAD i need to eat her out and make her feel good desperately!

cw: waxplay, sensory play(??) i have no idea what to call it but she doesn’t let you touch herfkemf, vibrators, very light bondage

i’m so normal about these pictures omg the femme dom ever,,, the powerbottom to have ever powerbottom-ed this earth,,,, chaewon is the definition of cute girlfriend in the streets FREAKY HOE IN THE SHEETS CAUSEEEJFKS???

she has an obsession with your mouth she cannot help it! she just loves using it for her own pleasure i fear… feeling its moist surface on her wet swollen cunt whenever she’s needy for your touchcidkfk moaning at the slight contact :(( i am also a firm believer that she’d guide you to do it the way she likes it, BUT NOT USING WORDS; indeed, she’s perfectly content with forming a rough grip on your hair and pulling on it however she wants to and whenever she wants to. sometimes she even pulls you away from her pussy so just so she can see her wet slick on your stuck-out tongueckdkf looking at the string of left between your muscle and her core…. giggling so hard rn guys

also SHE’D MOAN SO LOUDLY??:((( i know she sounds pretty i KNOW she does,, and so does she! she gets turned on by the sound of her own moaning, it’s only natural. the way your name rolls off her tongue so sweetly as she whines sounds like music to both your ears and hers. she’ll make sure you hear how good you’re making her feel, how good you’re being for herckdmfnd

now,, if we’re looking at the more RISQUÉ aspect of things.. oh she goes nuts i’m afraid.

OMG WHO SAID CANDLEWAX?? no but yeah on the days where she just feels like watching you squirm and struggle under her touch, she’ll just pull out the candlescisndn

NOW WALK WITH ME. she’s sitting in front of you, you’re laid down on the bed and your wrists are tied to the bed frame with her tie or smth because she’s an angry and frustrated office worker in my heart LEAVE ME ALONE. she knows how much you love touching her, and she knows how needy and whiny you get when you can’t. [devil emoji] SO NATURALLY! she has a vibrator nestled in between her legs and pressed onto her clit, barely even visible due to the oversized button up she has ongkemfm and she’s just pouring drops of candlewax on your naked stomach, the sight of you whining both at the delicious pain and the absence of her skin on you.

she’s moaning so loudly and staring at you with such lustfully hooded eyes, making it even harder for you not to wanna break free from the restraint of the tight tie and fuck her better than the vibrator ever will, like she rightfully deserves:((

also she totally degrades you in the process SORRY NOT SORRY!! she makes fun of you for the warm pool growing in between your legs, moaning how dirty and slutty you look getting wet by just watching her get off,, how you’re dripping for her even though she hasn’t even done anything expect burn you ahehehcjdkd calling you a ‘desperate fucking bitch’ and whatnot,,, laughing at you when you start crying and squirming whilst begging for her to untie you,,,,,, I’M UNWELL.

AND IF I SAY THAT SHE’D ALSO SET ASIDE THE VIBRATOR AT ONE POINT AND START SLOWLY FINGERING HERSELF IN FRONT OF YOU, TEASING YOU BY SPREADING HER WET FOLDS SO YOU CAN SEE EVERY LITTLE THING— [GUNSHOTS]

i fear she’d also describe to you how her fingers feel pumping in and out of her and moan your name in the process,, you’re just watching her throw her head back in pleasure as she fingerfucks herself?? oh girl at this point you’re just whimpering and sobbing like the pathetic whore she thinks you are, trying to subtly close your thighs and rub them together for any sort of friction:((

oh selfish chaewon save me…. save me selfish chaewon

#kim chaewon smut #kpop gg smut #female reader #smut le sserafim #kim chaewon x reader #kim chaewon x female reader #fem reader #chaewon x female reader #chaewon x reader #chaewon smut #kim chaewon #le sserafim hard thoughts #smut #kpop gg

[gabessquishytum]

Back on my hurt/comfort bullshit. 🤘 Dream has bad associations with oral sex. It was always treated as something he had to do as a punishment or something- like if he got into a fight with his partner, he was expected to suck them off as an “apology” and stuff like that. And going down on him was always treated like the worst thing in the world of course, so why would he want to subject his partner to that? So with Hob he’s reluctant to let him get his face between his legs, because in Dream’s head it’s like, well Hob hasn’t done anything wrong, so why would Dream “””make””” him do that? It’s hard for him to imagine giving oral as something that can be pleasurable. 

And then, on Hob’s birthday, he nearly BEGS Dream to let him eat him out, big puppy eyes and batting his eyelashes, “pretty pretty please let me eat you out 🥺 it’s my birthday 🥺 can I please, as a gift to me?” (he would never pressure Dream if he thought Dream really didn’t want to, and if he said no he’d back off, but he’s pieced together that Dream just has a messed up view on it)

Dream hesitantly agrees, and Hob basically throws himself at Dream’s crotch mouth-first. Dream nearly loses his mind because it feels so good, but also because it’s impossible not to notice that Hob is having the time of his life, he comes in his pants TWICE he’s having such a good time tasting Dream

Suddenly Dream thinks maybe going down on Hob might be something he could actually enjoy too, if he lets himself. Either way, he’s eager to try. If Hob can get it up again, that is.

-🦇

Oh this is extremely sweet. Dream having to be persuaded that Hob isn't lying, he does really really want to do it, please please please - I can imagine Dream nervously spreading his legs and squeezing his eyes shut, thinking that its all going to go horribly wrong -

Witnessing Hob’s pleasure is kind of life changing, actually. Its quite extraordinary to see the way his eyes brighten, his muscles relax, and he simply indulges himself. His hands slip around Dream’s thighs, his fingers grip into his skin and there'll probably be bruises tomorrow - Dream hopes there'll be bruises, holy fuck.

And the sounds that Hob makes are just obscene. Sucking, slurping wet sounds that would be gross in any other circumstance. He gets Dream’s fluids all over his face, at one point he just grinds his face into Dream’s crotch and his nose catches on all the right places, he's got precum smeared in his eyebrow and it's just so unhinged and so good. Dream’s view of oral is totally reframed. He notices along the line that Hob is actually humping the floor because he's so needy - at that point, Dream finally completely believes that he is having a good time. And he relaxes enough to realise that he is also having a really good time 😏

After that first session, Dream practically begs Hob to coach him on oral sex techniques, and although Hob is exhausted (and not entirely sure he can make his dick work again) he can't resist teaching Dream the finer points of blowjob-giving. Dream is an eager student, and poor Hob certainly gets his best birthday present ever... passing out from overstimulation as Dream sucks him off, determined to perfect his new skill <3

#🦇 anon #the sandman #dreamling #nsft

[runninriot]

inspired by the song Solitude by Black Sabbath, written for @steddiesongfics june song fics

Memories I Have Remind Me Of You

wc: 1999 | rated: T | tags: modern au, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, marriage proposal, dealing with heartbreak and regrets, Steve needs a little push from a stranger to make it right, sad but with a happy ending

The girl is nice. She’s pretty. Big eyes, plush lips, a kind smile, dimples.

Fucking dimples.

Her hair’s long and curly, doesn’t remind Steve of anyone in particular.

It doesn’t.

He does not think about someone else when the warm colour of her brown irises makes him remember.

Steve tries to listen when she talks, tries to laugh when she giggles sweetly, tries not to jerk away when she brushes his hand in a flirty manner but it’s hard to focus when his mind isn’t where it should be.

Did she just ask him a question?

   “You didn’t even listen, huh?”

Steve shakes his head, looks back up at her, tries for an apologetic smile but to his confusion, she doesn’t even seem mad at him for not paying attention.

No, it’s worse.

She’s got that empathic, knowing look in her eyes. Like she can see right through him.

    You’re so easy to read, baby.

He was never good at pretending.

   “I’m not boring you, am I.”

It’s not really a question. The girl knows she’s a good catch, knows she isn’t the problem – Steve is.

   “No, uh. Sorry, I-“

Who is he even trying to fool? No excuse he’s trying to come up with would be good enough because if he looks how he feels, it must be written all over his face. No way to hide the obvious.

I can see it in your eyes, baby. Your eyes always tell the truth.

Steve should’ve known it was a bad idea the moment he saw her picture, noticed the similarities. She instantly reminded him of-

He shouldn’t have agreed to this date.

Not because he doesn’t like her, no. She’s perfect, really. Or she would be.

They matched on a dating app, texted a bit back an forth. She was fun to talk to, made him laugh. And when she asked him if he wanted to meet, he thought that maybe it would help. That maybe this was his sign to finally get his ass back out there. He’d been holed up at home for too long. Sulking, sad, depressed.

Life just hasn’t been the same ever since.

His favourite meal has lost its taste. His favourite songs all sound off-key. Going to his favourite bar just seems like a waste of time - Steve’s life has lost its light, making everything seem dark and grey and dull.

Nothing is right anymore because everything reminds him of Eddie.

And Steve himself is the one to blame for his misery.

   “I-“ Steve hesitates. He doesn’t want to bother her with his mess, didn’t come here to whine about things he can’t change. She didn’t come here to listen to him talk about his goddamn ex for fuck’s sake!

   “What’s wrong?” she asks and Steve knows there’s no point in trying to pretend that everything’s fine when nothing ever is. Not anymore.

   “I’m sorry for being such bad company,” Steve apologises and means it. She deserves better, could’ve gone on a date with someone worth spending her time with.

Someone actually interested in... something. Anything. Whatever it is she’s looking for.

Steve’s not it, that much is clear.

He’s not ready to move on. Maybe he never will be. Because what he had was all he ever wanted, all he ever needed to be happy. Life was good, perfect, before he ruined it all. Let the love of his life slip away because he was too afraid of the what ifs. So he pushed and he fought and he hurt the one that would’ve given him everything.

Now, Steve is just an empty shell of the man he used to be. Because the day Eddie left, he took Steve’s heart and soul with him, left him empty and broken and sad.

So fucking sad.

   “You remind me of my ex.” The words are out before he can swallow them back down.

   “Oh,” she answers, expression neutral. “Bad break-up?”

Steve nods. He doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t want to think about the day his whole life fell apart but-

   “It was my fault. He left me because I fucked it up.”

The truth still hurts, even after all those months.

   “What did you do?”

Steve and Eddie had met through a mutual friend, Dustin. It wasn’t quite love at first sight but close to it.

They quickly became friends, started hanging out on weekends, then, soon, even during the week. Spending the evenings after work at each other’s places, cooking dinner together, watching movies, talking.

Steve had never felt so drawn to another person, had never felt so comfortable in someone else’s presence. Eddie was... he was funny, kind, loud and wild. He had all these big dreams about what he wanted to do with his life. Dreams that were so very different from the small-town life Steve had always resigned himself to. Eddie wanted to travel the country, sleep under the stars, wake up next to a lake, follow the wind to wherever it would take him.

He wanted to be free.

But he stayed.

Eddie stayed because when they shared their first kiss in a weak moment of alcohol-fuelled recklessness, they ignited a fire that became too big too fast, making it impossible to smother the flames before they turned into burning desire that took a hold of them both. Scorching its way into their hearts where it settled, warm and bright, making light in every dark corner of their being.

It was the second first kiss that sealed their fate – a sober, slow, and tentative kiss in the low light of the morning sun that wiped away any worries and doubts Steve had when he woke up in Eddie’s arms after a night spent giving into their unspoken feelings as they took each other apart, not thinking about the consequences.

Knowing what it was like to wake up next to each other made it impossible to go back to simply being friends, to stay apart, to not fall in love.

Eddie and Steve were meant to be.

Together, everything felt right.

Eddie willingly put his own dreams aside for Steve who knew he could never repay him for the sacrifices he made just to be with him, tried to thank him every day by showing and telling him how much he loved him. And things were good, perfect.

Until-

   “I don’t understand,” she says quietly when Steve takes a moment to breathe away the ache in his heart and the tears threatening to spill, “that sounds like a dream come true. What happened?”

Steve smiles sadly, sighs.

   “Yeah, felt like a dream, too. But the thing with dreams is that no matter how beautiful they are, inevitably you will wake up.”

And a beautiful dream it was. Life was full of love and laughter and happy moments spent together, until Eddie proposed and Steve said No and the world tumbled down.

Because it was in that moment – with Eddie down on one knee, the simple gold ring Steve knew had belonged to Eddie’s uncle held between his thumb and finger as an offer, a promise to be his forever – that Steve realised he couldn’t do this to him. He couldn’t marry Eddie and keep him trapped in a life he never wanted just because Steve was too scared of giving up the safety of his home for a life on the road with no destination ahead and an unforeseeable future.

Steve said no to set him free but even then Eddie kept fighting for him, fucking apologised for putting ‘so much pressure’ on Steve with his question which- was insane because Eddie had done nothing wrong, ever. He had never been anything but wonderful and considerate and perfect. Steve had been the one not willing to compromise, who inadvertently put Eddie in a cage of his own making.

So he pushed and he fought and he hurt Eddie in order to give him back his freedom, thinking, believing he was doing the right thing. It was only when Eddie packed his bags and left that Steve realised he had made the biggest mistake of his life.

The moment Eddie walked out the door without looking back, Steve knew he had lost everything.

 

   “Where is he now?”

   “Hm?”

   “Eddie. Where did he go?”

   “I, uh...” Steve shouldn’t know the answer to this but he does. Because Dustin told him. Tells him whenever he gets a call or another letter from Eddie, ignoring the fact that it tears Steve apart every time. Or maybe he does it on purpose, punishing Steve for hurting his friend. And Steve lets him, never complains, always holds back his tears until he’s back in his fortress of solitude, where he can drown in his pain and sorrow.

He deserves to suffer for what he did.

   “He’s in Michigan.”

   “Huh.” She cocks her head, smiles. “It’s been what, 5 months you said? Pretty sure he could’ve gotten a lot further by now.”

   “What do you mean?”

   “For someone who’s always wanted to travel the whole damn country, he didn’t make it that far.”

   “Eddie never made plans on where he wanted to go. Maybe he found a nice place to stay for a while before he lets his heart take him somewhere else.”

   “Staying conveniently close for no reason whatsoever. Got it,” she scoffs.

Steve looks at her with pleading eyes, needs her to stop giving him ideas, can’t allow himself to let hope bloom.

   “He’s free to go wherever he wants.”

   “Maybe what Eddie really wants is for you to tell him to come home.”

Her words hit him hard like a slap across the face, ringing loudly in his ears.

   “What if- What if he doesn’t?”

   “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

 -------

   “You left me.”

It’s not meant as an accusation, sounds like one though. And Steve can see in the way Eddie furrows his brows and tightens his lips, that it wasn’t the right thing to say.

   “You told me to.” Eddie’s answer is short but calm, not filled with anger like Steve expected.

   “I wanted you to stay!”

He knows it isn’t fair because Steve did tell him to leave. What right does he have to want him back, to ask for forgiveness?

   “I didn’t want you to leave but I was scared that you’d wake up one day and realise that being with me isn’t enough. That being in love isn’t worth giving up your dreams. You shouldn’t have to give up your dreams for me! I should’ve gone with you. I love you. I-”

Steve is crying, can’t stop shaking. He’s so angry at himself, feels so powerless and stupid. And Eddie just stands there and stares at him confused like he doesn’t know that Steve would do everything for a second chance.

Just when Steve is about to give up, turns to go because if he stays here any longer, he’ll fall to his knees and make an even bigger fool of himself than he already has, two strong arms wrap around him from behind, keeping him from walking away.

   “Don’t go,” Eddie whispers into his hair, tightens his grip to emphasise his words. “Stay.”

It’s what Steve should’ve said all those months ago, when he said the opposite instead.

Slowly, Steve turns within the arms holding him until he’s facing Eddie again. Eddie, who is so close now, Steve could bring their lips together by only moving in another inch or two. Could kiss away the tears running down Eddie’s cheeks.

   “I can’t live without you, Eddie.”

   “Then let me be with you.”

Their third first kiss is an angry one, rough and desperate. Full of regrets they swallow from each other’s lips, drinking them up to make them go away. To make it better. To make it right.

   “Marry me, Steve.”

The answer comes easy this time - one word, a promise.

Forever, never apart, wherever it'll take them.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddiesongfics #writing prompt

[kingshovelbug]

Hii what is your best advice to younger adults trying to make it independently and make a living? In art, savings or anything you think of. Thank you in advance!

dont be too hard on yourself. its tough out there right now in regards to like everything regardless of what old people say. also this is going to be a lot so im slapping a read more on here

⭐️ first thing id recommend for anyone is to start figuring out a budget. figure out how much youre making monthly. keep all your food receipts for a month or two to see what youre spending on food. find out what youre paying for thats necessary like utilities and whats not

the goal for a budget (or at least mine) is to find a good balance of earning vs spending. im paying off my credit card right now because i ran through all my savings after we had to move last year but my goal used to be to save 1/4 of what i earned after bills and putting money into an emergency fund (usually an emergency fund is 3 months worth of expenses). but it depends on how much you can comfortably put away. if you can put more away do it. but if you never spend money and deprive yourself of joy youre going to burn yourself out regardless of what your job is

⭐️ if youre not already buy store brand for as much shit as you can. if its an ingredient i promise as someone who cooks and bakes you probably wont notice the difference. if its an actual snack it depends. again both from a money perspective and to boycott pro-isreal companies we get a lot of snacks from aldis and theyre awesome. i dont miss anything from mars, oreos etc when i have my chocolate coconut wafers

⭐️ if you have any subscriptions and you need to get rid of something you can probably cancel them. for *most* things theres some kind of free alternative. but again just like with a budget. there are going to be some subscriptions that make your life easier and while youd save money without them it would lead to extra work and burning out. ex willow has kofi gold because it has really cool extra features that help with running the shop. but for streaming services? im going to be so honest. both to save money and with how cheeky streaming companies (in a bad way) have been getting… you can find whatever you want to watch online for free

if you need to use anything from the microsoft office suite, but youre not required by youre job to specifically use microsoft, libreoffice is a free alternative that i actually like better. its what i use to help willow run their shop and its free

for art programs. if you still have photoshop switch. not just for money reasons. adobe is getting bold with what they can claim as their content and use from what people produce in their program. the switch isnt the easiest but there are a bunch of alternatives. some free some like csp offer one time licenses which are so much better than subscriptions. will has spent almost $2k on photoshop and after effects from using it as long as they have. when csp is $50 and they like csp better anyways. i also know of krita and fire alpaca which are free

⭐️ also theres stuff about being an adult that i thought you had to pay for but you dont? like for car insurance i went through an independent insurance agent and they found me a cheaper plan than i could find myself. i didnt pay the guy. they get a cut from the insurance company for finding them another customer. some banks or credit cards offer financial advising sessions to users. its boring but if you can get a copy of your health insurance see if they have any free shit on there thats available for you. my brother gets free doctor finding? like i can call them, tell them what specialist he needs and instead of me calling around to find one that can take him, they connect me with someone. my work offers 3 free therapy sessions (better than nothing) and free food that i take advantage of

⭐️ i think one of the biggest things that makes an impact for us is researching before buying stuff. sounds like a no brainer but you dont just want to find the cheapest deal. you want to find the best bargain, the best bang for your buck. whats the best quality thing you can get that you can also afford? itll prevent your from having to replace stuff all the time and by extension spending more than you need to. we have nonstick pots and pans that are scratched and starting to peel (which apparently can cause cancer??) that were cheap because of being on sale. now after looking into what makes quality cookware i know i should of just slowly bought stainless steel

⭐️ last big one. credit cards. unfortunately we need them so find one with a low apr and that offers decent cash back. use it up to like 20% of your limit and pay it off every month. focus on using it on things that will get you cash back so you can essentially get free money

im sure i could ramble more but this is already super long

#asks #anon

[beeshoesometimesdraws]

Buddy pal friend, show Tumblrrrrrrr your arttttt

Show them the L u n a r ™️

Ramble about them p l e a s e

Hehehehe alien Lunar rambling time >:) including art for visuals

(note: this is just my interpretation/au of the “lunar is technically an alien” thing and it’s very self-indulgent, as all the stuff I create usually is also this may or may not end up becoming canon to the Icarus au, we’ll see)

So starting off, Lunar has a lot of features that are indicators of him being an alien/star-hybrid (my interpretation of the stars is also different though I won’t focus on that here-)

These features are (but not limited to):

Lunar, similar to Toothless from httyd, has retractable teeth (his teeth can retract on command into little pockets in his “gums” aka the silicone alternative of gums that he has)

His teeth are also sharper with much more prominent canines

(also yes he has used this ability to scare/surprise kids as well as family before)

This isn’t exactly something entirely specific to him but he also has padded hands and feet and retractable claws

The thing that is more so specific to him though is that he is really good at climbing walls as well as other usually hard to climb places as the pads themselves act as natural suction cups

Lunar and the others are semi-organic (which means they can do things such as properly ingest and digest food and drinks amongst many other things) HOWEVER, Lunar is different in ways than the others

One of these ways being that he doesn’t bleed oil but instead actual blood though it is still of course different from normal human and animal blood

Lunar can be injured much easier than the others due to this though something about his biology allows him to heal quickly, though how long it really takes depends on how severe the wound is

Lunar also has a form that is much more alien-like though they often don’t use it as they’re still getting used to it (the most they use it is during training as its easier to use their abilities then)

This other form gives them other physical traits such as soft and squishy feelers/nubs around their head and along their body that are very sensitive to changes in the air and vibrations as well as touch (he is able to pick up the faintest of sounds and movements using them so it can be very overwhelming)

Being semi-organic also comes with other abilities (both for Lunar and the others): giving them equipment like tongues as well as other things

This means that any of the cast who are semi-organic are technically able to have kids due to their biology, including Lunar (though due to being part alien their methods are slightly different from the others coughs)

Anyways✨

Along their face and body are star/constellation-like patterns that, while barley visible in the light, glow in the dark/at night

Lunar’s eyes also glow at night and he has amazing night vision (though the ladder is a thing others like Moon and Eclipse possess as well due to coding)

Going back to the patterns; they can technically communicate using them (they just don’t know how to yet-), kind of like how seawings use their bioluminescent markings to communicate in wof, by pulsing and flickering the lights (which Lunar sometimes unintentionally does when they are startled/flustered/upset)

Two versions of Lunar with markings (without light and with)

I see Eclipse given four arms all the time so why not Lunar? He’s part of Eclipse’s code after all (and part alien now sooooo 4 arms :) )

Moving onto behavior:

Alien Lunar’s behavior is more feral (ex: growling/hissing and baring his teeth when upset or scared)

He is not a complete wild animal or anything like that but he does possess animal-like behaviors such as the one listed above and more (he can get really feral though when he’s super upset or scared or just experiencing other really high emotions)

Other behaviors include:

Zoomies when super excited or happy

Kneading like a cat when sleepy

Other vocalizations like purring (which is more like a rumbly whirr than an actual purr but still) and clicking/chirping and cooing like a dove/pigeon

Lunar tries not to let things like that slip much though they still do and they get embarrassed by it (again they’re still very much getting used to everything)

That’s all I have rn, again this is very self-indulgent and also I’m going into depth about a lot of stuff and being detailed (even with the more “below deck” stuff if you know what I mean even though can’t really say much about that here coughs) cuz I like doing that when creating any kind of biology for species/character stuff, it’s fun and helps build an interesting and complex thing I think

Imma stop rambling now-

#bee talks #tsams lunar #tsams #tsams au #sun and moon show #sun and moon show lunar #alien lunar the beloved #silly lad #tw suggestive #just a lil #I have many things I wanna ramble about that would be more so but I can’t on here annsndjdjdjdjhdgege #bee rambles #my art

[truedove]

prove it

word count - 955

content warning - smut (minors dni), f!reader insert, unprotected piv

synopsis - “that's it, honey. give me a show.”

heat engulfs you and you feel dizzy with pleasure - faintly aware of the sweat trickling down between your breasts and pooling in the valley between your thighs. his hands are rough and calloused against your skin, possessive in their grip on your hips.

your face is buried in the crook of his neck, heavy pants dampening his skin. legs cramping from their extended position of being spread wide by his hips, you tentatively begin to bounce up and down in his lap, inordinate in your movements. he groans lowly, head falling back against the headboard and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows roughly. each time you come down on him, he thrusts up to meet you, harder and harder.

the mattress creaks and groans beneath your combined weight as you rock together and you curl closer around him, every inch of your skin burning with desire. he's breathing hard, sweat glistening on his skin and you can feel the muscles in his abdomen tensing with each thrust.

it's not long before your legs start to burn with the effort of maintaining your position on top of him and you whimper pitifully into his neck. instead of flipping your positions and fucking into you like he usually does - quite the gentlemen he is, really - he simply grins and reclines further back into the pillows.

"poor baby," he coos at you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you out of the crook of his neck so that you're looking up at him. his low lidded eyes are wild, his pupils dilated, and you can feel his heart racing beneath your palm as you splay it across his chest. "you just can't keep up, can you?" he pokes, nuzzling at your cheek.

a frown makes its way onto your face. even though you're aware that his taunts are heatless, you still can't help but feel a surge of vexation.

"i can too." you mumble, trying not to let the sourness creep into your voice. your trembling thighs however, betray your words as they wobble against his, causing him to chuckle darkly.

"mhm," he nods as if completely agrees with you, his gaze flicking down between your spread legs. leaning back fully against the headboard, he spreads his legs wider and loosens his grip on your hips. he's the picture of nonchalance, but the way his eyes burn into you and the way his chest rises and falls with each labored breath tell a different story. "prove it, then." he murmurs, a familiar challenge in his voice.

suddenly, you feel a surge of bashfulness. with his full attention on you, you're suddenly self-conscious in a way that you haven't felt around him in a long time. he notices your hesitation - of course he does - and his grin softens.

he doesn't say anything, just watches you patiently, an eyebrow raised as he waits for you to make a move. his thumbs rub your hipbones soothingly and your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but something else too. determination, maybe. the need to be good for him. you swallow hard and slowly lift yourself up and then back down, a breathless moan that you fail to stifle escaping your lips as he fills you again.

the answering groan he gives however, makes up for it and you begin to rock your hips, slowly at first, but with each downward rut, you gather more speed and courage. the bed creaks beneath you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room once more.

you try not to agitate under his scrutiny but the way he watches you so intently, dark eyes never leaving your face, makes your skin feel warm and flushed. you feel like you're performing a dance, one only for him, and the longer you do it, the more lost in it you become. his hands move up your sides, rough fingers tracing the dips and ridges of your ribcage until they rest beneath your breasts. heavy pants fill the air between you as you find your rhythm and lose yourself in the motion.

"that's it, honey. give me a show." he breaths out, brows furrowing in pleasure and concentration as you ride him.

the praise causes you to flush even deeper, endorphins flooding your system as you pick up the pace. your cries pitch higher and he watches you, enraptured, as your body moves over his and your skin gleams with sweat. his hands move up to cup your breasts, thumbs flicking lazily across the tightening peaks.

he groans when you accidentally tugs at his hair as the angle of your rocking hits the perfect spot and your body trembles as you come, your cries muffled into his shoulder. he lets out a choked grunt as you tighten around him and his previously lax grip on your body suddenly becomes desperate, holding you close as you shudder. he's not far behind and with a cut off utterance of your name, he follows you over the edge, his body tensing and his eyes squeezing shut as he comes inside you.

you lay panting and spent, your body heavy and sated as it collapses onto him. he's warm and solid beneath you, and you feel impossibly safe in his arms. the room spins a little as you catch your breath, and you close your eyes, feeling the soft press of his lips against your temple.

"tired?" he asks, lips still pressed to your temple and you hum in response, the vibration making him chuckle softly.

"i proved you wrong though." you mumble against his chest, half-asleep.

"what was that?" he asks in amusement. you yawn into his chest, your body feeling heavy with sleep.

"i can too keep up."

#f/o x reader #fave x reader #reader insert #x female reader #smut #jjk x reader #geto suguru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #frank castle x reader #joel miller x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #nanami kento x reader #cod x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #genshin x reader #haikyuu x reader

[creampuffqueen]

I wanna hear more avatar headcanons! From the novels or just the avatars themselves! I loved reading your kavik and yangchen hcs 🥹🫶🏻

ahhh thank you!! i'm glad you like my random thoughts lol 🫶

here are a few more random thoughts i've been having that i just haven't quite made into posts yet (mostly yangvik because i love them but some other avatars as well):

yangchen is actually a terrible cook 💀 she's basically always had people taking care of her so she never really needed to learn! she can make a good cup of tea and that's about it. she regularly burns rice. she's also just generally bad at remembering to feed herself. kavik, who is a decent cook, is largely the only reason she remembers to eat

as for the other known avatars: kyoshi is by FAR the best cook. she's genuinely good at it. aang is a very close second. roku, kuruk, and wan are all average at it. korra has been banned from every kitchen in republic city

yangchen and kavik both strike me as people who really enjoy physical touch. they both really enjoy cuddling with each other, even before their relationship turns more romantic. acts of service is also a major love language for them

i also feel very strongly that they never used typical labels for their relationship. they usually referred to each other as their 'partner', occasionally 'lover', but most often just continued to use 'companion'. these vague labels frustrate scholars to no end, and today in the atla universe nobody can agree on the nature of their relationship. which is exactly how they wanted it lol, they were extremely private about their relationship

yangchen does have the iconic crooked smile that all the avatars share, but it only comes out when she's well and truly happy about something

her laugh is the same way. she has a very convincing fake laugh, as her real laugh is kind of 'ugly'. it's some kind of snorting, wheezing sound that kind of sounds like she's dying but is also absolutely adorable. yangchen hates it. kavik adores it, and will make an absolute fool of himself trying to hear it

yangchen is a massive, merciless flirt and takes great pleasure in seeing just how red she can make kavik's face turn. but on the rare occasion kavik gets enough confidence to flirt back, she turns into a total mess

pik and pak's favorite place to sleep is right on top of kavik's face

because of how hard she works herself, yangchen often falls asleep in the strangest places. if she's actually tired, she can fall asleep literally anywhere. it's simultaneously a superpower and a massive annoyance

a somewhat sad/bittersweet headcanon i have is that yangchen dies first. i've seen a lot of people saying that she lives to 150 but i can't find a source for that anywhere so i'm choosing to ignore it. yangchen has already watched too many loved ones die, she doesn't need to see kavik die before her as well. they both live very long lives, but kavik outlives her by a few years. after yangchen's death, he returns home to the northern water tribe

at one point, only a few months before his death, he is out for a walk when a little toddler wanders up to him all alone. he chats with him for a few minutes until the boy's parents find them and thank him for watching over their son. 'kuruk, what have we told you about wandering off like that?' the mother asks. the toddler waves goodbye, and kavik walks home feeling oddly contented. he never meets the boy again, and he dies well before kuruk is revealed as the avatar, but he feels a sense of peace from the interaction, knowing deep down that yangchen has made it safely back into the material world

when kavik dies, he wills his bone necklace to kuruk's family. they don't understand why until kuruk's sixteenth birthday. (SERIOUSLY THEIR NECKLACES LOOK ALMOST IDENTICAL ITS WILD)

that's all the thoughts i can scrape up off the top of my head, but i'm just generally thinking about avatar characters All The Time lmao. thank you for asking!!!

#notsosecrettunnel #atla #tlok #chronicles of the avatar #yangvik #yangchen x kavik #avatar yangchen #kavik #yangchen novels #avatar kuruk #atla headcanons

[sissylittlefeather]

Let's Forget About the Stars: Chapter 1

A/N: Here it is! First chapter of the new series featuring Elvis and Dove Morningstar! This one begins in 1957 and will go on for a looooong time. I hope you all enjoy the fluff! It makes my heart so happy.

Warnings: none. Just cotton candy sweetness for these two. I guess there's some kissing.

Word count: ~2.5k

Dove looks in the mirror, sitting in front of the vanity in the tiny dressing room behind the stage. She blots her lipstick one more time and smooths her black hair into its low bun. Her dark eyes are perfectly rimmed by feathery black lashes. She'd be beautiful if it weren't for the color of her skin: two shades too dark to be acceptable in mainstream culture and two shades too light to fit into the lively subculture she attempts to surround herself with. But no matter where she goes, she's an outsider.

Her name gives her away. Morningstar. It's hard to deny her Native heritage with a name like that. To their credit, her parents tried to give her a chance by naming her Eleanor, a good white name, but it didn't stick. As soon as she had a voice, her cousins started calling her Dove and she's never gotten away from it. And Eleanor Morningstar doesn't look any better on a billing than Dove Morningstar. She's considered changing her name, but she knows it would break her daddy's heart. It's true he's back in Oklahoma and would probably never know, but it's ingrained in her to respect him, so she does.

But if her career doesn't pick up soon, she'll have to change it. Maybe to something that sounds Mexican or Italian.

"Dove, you're up. Come on." She sighs and stands up, smoothing the black skirt. The manager of the club holds open the door for her to walk onto the stage.

She makes her way up to the mic and begins her set, her voice soft and sensuous. There's a reason they call her Dove. More than that, she sways her hips, winding them to the rhythm as she sings. This is the other reason she has to play here and not on big stages. She just can't seem to stand still when she sings. Her wide skirt is an attempt to hide it, but it's impossible to ignore. Between the way she moves and the way she holds her microphone, she's dripping sex the second she walks on stage. Her talent is undeniable, but the sizzle of her performance makes people uncomfortable. Even here, she's an outsider, and her style is not accepted. The applause is sparse and most people ignore her, paying more attention to their drinks or their dates.

But tonight, she's caught someone's attention. He hasn't noticed his date or his drink since she started singing. He's actually not sure he's remembered to breathe since he saw her. It's like she's put a spell on him with her cooing and dancing and he's powerless to stop it.

She's not even his type, but something about her draws him in like the proverbial moth to a flame. He's pretty sure she'd set him on fire, but he's not sure he cares. As soon as she finishes singing, she opens her eyes and bows slightly. A few people clap and she scans the audience with a nervous smile. She turns to walk off the stage and he immediately stands up.

"Elvis, where are you going?" His date pouts and pulls on his hand.

"I'll be right back, baby." He says it with no intention of returning to her, pulling his hand back and making his way across the club to the manager, Joe. He's been here many times before, so he knows Joe, but she's new, so he wants to gather some information before he finds her.

"Hey, Joe, who was that?"

"On stage?"

"Yeah."

"That was Dove Morningstar." Elvis raises his eyebrows.

"Thats a helluva name."

"I know. She's a helluva gal. Wish there was a place for her."

"What do you mean?"

"You saw her. Where do you think she can sing like that? Not here. And sure as hell not at the Opry."

"Not here?"

"Tonight was proof. Folks don't like it. She's just ahead of her time, I think." Elvis nods.

"Where can I find her?"

"She oughtta be coming out from backstage any minute. Why? You wanna meet her?" Joe gets a knowing glint in his eye and Elvis damn near blushes.

"If it ain't too much trouble."

"Stay here. I'll get her." He walks away as Elvis shifts nervously from one foot to the other. Why does meeting her make his stomach flip flop like this? He's Elvis Presley and it's 1957. He might be the most desirable and eligible bachelor on the planet. But this girl, this Dove Morningstar, has him completely disarmed. He feels Joe tap on his arm and he turns to face her, trying to remind himself to breathe.

"Dove, this is Elvis Presley. Elvis, this is Dove Morningstar." There's a moment of silence between them. She can't believe she's standing this close to Elvis Presley and he seems to have forgotten that that's him. Finally, she breaks the silence.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Presley? Elvis? What should I call you?" She laughs nervously. Her laugh makes his heart skip a few beats. Joe nudges him and he remembers he's supposed to speak now.

"Oh! Elvis is fine." She laughs again and he has to hold in a groan. What is this girl doing to him?

"I love your music. I wish I'd known you would be here. I'd love to get you to sign something for me, but I don't have anything with me."

"You want my autograph?"

"Yeah... is that...? I'm sorry. You're just here to relax and I'm asking you for an autograph."

"No, honey, it's okay. I just... I feel like I should be asking for yours."

"Mine?!"

"Your set was incredible." She looks up at him wide-eyed.

"You're bluffing."

"No, I'm still reeling from it. You were great." A blush rises in her cheeks.

"Thank you... I think you're the only one who liked it." She whispers the last part. They stand and stare at each other again. Joe looks between them and rolls his eyes.

"Maybe you want to get her a drink and take her somewhere to talk?" That seems to jar Elvis back to reality.

"Yes! Can I get you something?"

"Just a Pepsi please." He smiles softly, orders two Pepsis from the bartender, holding them in one hand, and then puts his other hand on her lower back to lead her through the crowd. The contact has them both shivering. He maneuvers her to a door that opens to a staircase. She looks at him suspiciously.

"Where does this go?"

"It's a surprise. Do you trust me?" She thinks for a second, looking up into his face.

"Yes." He smiles again and leads her up the stairs. At the top, he pushes open the door to the warm night air. They're on the roof looking out over Beale Street. "Oh, wow."

He watches her as she takes in the view. She's beautiful, made even more radiant by the night sky and her delight. Something inside him has him wanting to spend the rest of his life making her smile like that. He walks to a bench and sits down, patting the seat beside him. She plops down next to him and he puts his arm on the bench behind her. Without thinking, she leans back into him, her head finding his shoulder easily.

"This is really neat. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it."

"You really like my music?" She asks tentatively.

"I really do. Your voice is hypnotic and the way you move... You really like mine?"

"Oh yes!" She sits up to turn and look at him. "You're incredible! I'm pretty sure I have every record you've ever released..."

She trails off as he puts his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her cheek.

His heart is racing as he touches her. He has no idea what he's doing but something about it just feels right. He's dying to kiss her, but they just met.

"I sound like a crazy person don't I? Telling you I have all your records." He laughs and pulls his hand back.

"Nah, I just wish I could buy some a' yours."

"I don't have any."

"That's a damn shame."

"Elvis?" Her eyes flick between his nervously.

"Yeah, Dove?" He sits up and leans forward a little.

"Would you kiss me? I know you kiss your fans sometimes and I just... well... I'd like you to be my first kiss." Elvis has to work to breathe normally. The thought of kissing her is intoxicating.

"Oh, honey, I-"

"Never mind. It's silly." She stands up and walks over to a railing. He follows her, his heart pounding in his chest.

"No, no it's not. And I'm not sayin' no." He looks down at her and she turns to look up into his face.

"You're not?" He swallows hard. He's kissed a hundred girls. Why is the thought of kissing this one making his whole body tingle?

"But I don't wanna kiss ya like a fan. Dovey, when I kiss you, I wanna mean it." She almost swoons with his nickname for her. He cups her chin in his hand and she just about melts right there on the rooftop. He's so much more in person than she expected. Sure, he's cute, cuter even than the pictures she has of him, but she never dreamed he would be so gentle, so warm, so sweet. If he's not careful, he'll have her head over heels by the end of the night.

"I think I'd like that a lot."

"You're pretty incredible, you know that?" She smiles.

"You barely know me."

"I feel like I do. Is that crazy?" He drags his thumb across her bottom lip. Everything inside him is screaming at him to kiss her.

"No. I feel it too." She whispers again, her eyes flicking down to his lips. He can't help it anymore. He starts to lean in slowly, so painfully slowly, trying to control himself. What he really wants is to dramatically sweep her into his arms and make her his right there on the rooftop, but that would be way too much. He wouldn't even know where to begin with that. So instead, he hovers above her lips for a second and then presses his mouth to hers so very gently.

She's about to lose it. The kiss is so tender it makes her want to cry, but there's something in it that rushes through her whole body. Her heart races and her hands tremble and she's overcome with the desire to touch him. She holds back, but the need is there and it's strong.

He goes to pull out of the kiss but he's not ready yet. He needs more, so he changes the angle and kisses her again, this time with a little more passion. Still a closed-mouth kiss, but he presses a little harder against her lips. Almost without his control, his shaking hands find her hips and pull her body in close to his. When he backs away again, she throws her arms around him and pulls him back down to kissing her. This time, he lets his lips part hers and he dips his tongue in carefully. When she doesn't resist, he deepens the kiss pulling her body flush against his and sliding his tongue in to explore her mouth fully.

She has no idea what she's doing, but it feels good and he tastes sweet and oh the ecstasy of pressing up against him is delicious. She could let him kiss her like this all night. The thought occurs to her that he might try and obviously she's never done that before but she might be willing to do it with him.

Every fiber of his being is invested in kissing her and the thought of stopping seems almost impossible. Still, he can feel his body reacting to her closeness and he knows that if this keeps up he may not be able to stop himself. It would be his first time and there's a big part of him that would be okay with it being her, but not yet. So he comes up for air and presses his forehead to hers.

"We need to slow down. I don't want to take this further than we want it to go tonight." She nods.

"I've never..."

"Me neither." She's a little surprised, but it makes him even sweeter in her eyes. "We should wait."

"Yes." She says it breathlessly, noticing how he says wait like it's going to happen for them, just not yet.

"Here. C'mere. Let's sit on the bench and talk for a bit." They go back to the bench and she settles on his shoulder again with his arm around her. He picks up her hand and kisses her fingers. "Where did you come from?"

"Oklahoma. My people are Seminole, but my father moved us away from our land. My parents live in Tulsa and I'm the oldest of five. I'm sorry, you don't want to hear all this boring-"

"I want to know you. Keep talking." She looks up at him and he kisses her gently. There's something about her that makes it impossible for him to keep his lips off of her for too long.

She goes back to telling him about her family and how she ended up in Memphis chasing her music career. He listens attentively and asks questions and kisses her periodically. Eventually, it's his turn and he tells her about growing up in Mississippi, moving here, his parents, and everything else.

They don't even realize how much time passes until the sky begins to lighten and the sun peeks over the horizon. When it does, it finds them kissing again, her legs thrown over his lap, his hand on her knee. His body is weak with wanting to slide it further up her thigh, but he doesn't, praying she can't feel him where his hardness is pressing against his pants. He's never wanted a girl the way he wants her. And it's not just a physical desire. His soul is desperate to connect with her and keep her close. Her presence comforts him and if he didn't know any better he'd swear this is what it feels like to be in love.

She's the one who notices the sunrise, but she doesn't want the night to end.

"Elvis, the sun is coming up." She whispers against his lips. He turns and looks to the horizon.

"I'll be damned. We were up here all night." She laughs her little bird-like laugh and his heart swells.

"I don't want this to be over." She pouts a little. He pushes a piece of her hair back behind her ear and gently caresses her cheek.

"Me neither."

"Will I ever see you again?" He smiles and kisses her softly.

"Honey, I've been looking for you my whole life. You'll never get rid of me now." A warm smile spreads across her face.

"So it's not over? Even when we leave here?"

"Dovey, I think this is just the beginning for us."

He kisses her again as the sun rises on them. And he's right. This is only the beginning.

******

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things @burnthheparaphilia @jhoneybees @cattcb

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fluff #elvis presley fluff #elvis x oc #elvis presley x oc #Elvis x Dove #Elvis Presley x Dove Morningstar #let's forget about the stars

[blue-jisungs]

this thought hit me HARD because i’m missing him so much. can i request a morning where you wake up next to your love, seunghan, and time just seems to be frozen? it’s like the world doesn’t exist. it’s just you and him. all you want to do is live in this moment.

[ axe’s memo ! ] UGH I MISS HIM SO MICH IM GONNA SOB ITS LIKE U READ MY MIND 💔💔💔💔💔

overall i believe mornings with hani >>>>

he’s so soft and warm, like a huge teddy bear:( he smells like cologne and fred sheets, like home. you just never wanna leave his side

esp in the morning, when it’s a free day for the both of you:(

warm sun prying on your skin in a comforting way because of the blinds being rolled up. the duvets, pillows and plushies are laying all over the place from all the rolling and shuffling in your sleep. but seunghan’s arm around you didn’t even bulge.

you sigh softly and look at his sleepy, peaceful face. in those moments the time seems to freeze; it’s just you and him. the sound of his quiet snores and breaths calming you better than any comfort show.

his hair is falling on his forehead loosely so you gently brush it away. his nose scrunches in his sleep and he only shuffles closer to you, burying his face in your neck:( so you scratch his back gently, occasionally placing kisses on his head.

and you can tell when he’s slurring awake: his smile imprints against your skin. then, his hands snake around your waist to pull you even closer. only after that, he murmurs a low and groany 'good morning, angel'

and since it’s a day off, you leave the bed very late. chatting, giggling or just deciding to fall asleep again. hours turn into seconds with seunghan, even if you’re just kissing his beauty marks on his slightly puffy from sleep face

m. list

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

#seunghan #riize fluff #seunghan fluff #seunghan x reader #seunghan riize #seunghan imagines #seunghan soft hours #seunghan scenarios #seunghan timestamp #riize soft hours #riize soft thoughts #riize x y/n #riize x imagine #riize x reader #riize x you #riize imagines #riize scenarios #riize timestamps #riize drabbles #[ 🧸 ] soft thoughts

[emp-t-man]

so my friend @delaneytalks-tostatues very kindly sent me a prompt for the ask reblog and of course i had to blow it out of proportion so here’s a long and ramble-y description of what musical instruments would represent the cast of wolf 359 in an instrumental score (by a music major)

minkowski would have trumpet motifs. they’re bold, and loud, and often the leaders of the brass section, but can also have a beautiful and even melancholy sound when played in the right situation. trumpets are often used to solo, and hardly play as much as other brass or woodwind instruments in an ensemble, the way minkowski often places upon herself the entire fate of the crew and the mission and is reluctant to accept help when it doesn’t come to aspects of the mission itself. i can just imagine the slow, emotional solo that would play in the background of her breakdown in pan-pan and it’s. ugh /pos

lovelace would be repped by a trombone— very close to a trumpet, but slightly deeper, with more of a dark timbre behind it, reminiscent of the people she’s lost and what she’s had to go through to be where she is. they’re also more friendly in terms of playing with the rest of the ensemble and more flexible in moving between notes, but just as strong.

eiffel has french horn motifs. is it because the french horn is my favorite of the non-string instruments? maybe. but also it has such emotional depth behind it. it’s so full, and hauntingly beautiful, and i think it’d be a good representation of how deeply eiffel strives to be a good person to try and forget his past.

now, these three all have something in common, and that’s having their instrument be a member of the brass section. brass just seems very fitting for the protagonists of the series— it’s hopeful, it’s strong, it’s driving. but i’m missing a couple members of the hephaestus crew who i think wouldn’t be represented by brass motifs for one reason or another.

starting with hera. i think hera’s motif would be played by a flute for a number of reasons. for one, she just gives me flutist vibes. for two, flutes aren’t a member of the brass family, just as hera isn’t seen as a true member of the hephaestus by a lot of people for a long time. while the flute is a beautiful instrument on its own, it can sound sort of lonely among a big, strong brass ensemble. however, a soft, lilting flute melody above a brass accompaniment could be just what the ensemble needs to achieve the mellow timbre a piece could call for, just as hera’s persistence and determination and intelligence is often what pulls the crew through when they’re stuck doing nothing but yelling at each other. i think it could especially be really pretty with a muted trumpet as a duet, in the same way hera and minkowski grow to be very close and work rather well with one another as they go through everything together.

there’s another we gotta talk about but i gotta bring up SI-5 first—

while the hephaestus crew is represented by the brass section, i think it’d be cool to have SI-5 represented by woodwinds. they aren’t as strong aurally, but add essential undertones and accompanying cues that could make or break an orchestra.

maxwell has english horn motifs for little reason other than it just— sounds like her to me. it can either sound like a sunrise of a new day or the creeping sensation of dread as lights dim depending on what mode you’re in and what the accompaniment is like, just like maxwell is seen by hera as both a friend and someone who doesn’t respect her in the slightest at different points in the series, and sometimes at the same time. it’s bright, and beautiful, but sneaky, and i think that kind of motif would go hard

jacobi would be played by a bassoon. again, this is a little bit because two of my closest friends are bassoonists and i love the instrument to death but ALSO because it’s deep and looming and intimidating but can also be extremely moving and emotional if you listen closely enough.

now kepler, he’s represented with saxophones. the instrument that looks to be a brass instrument but in reality is part of the woodwind family, just as kepler appears to have the crew’s safety in his best interest and to want to be their friend at first, but is rather quick to let them know his only interest lies with himself and his mission. it’s also a very charismatic instrument and is used to charm people a lot of the time, just as kepler relies on to pull in and trap other people in his “big picture” before they even know it.

all of this leaves hilbert. hilbert, to me, would be played by a cello. it’s a string instrument, and has no part in the band ensemble, just as hilbert has no alliance with any of the other crew members. he does his own thing, and the decima project means more to him than any individual. it’s deep, and full, and just like eiffel’s french horn motif, hauntingly beautiful.

i’m too tired to come up with what goddard’s motifs would be (cutter, pryce, and rachel), but i might do them another time if this gets enough traction—

#i combined the two things i’m most insane about (this podcast and music) and now i’m unstoppable #the best thing about this is my primary instrument (viola) isn’t even included #i’ve wanted to do a classical composition about them for so long #wolf 359 #doug eiffel #renee minkowski #hera #isabel lovelace #daniel jacobi #alana maxwell #warren kepler #alexander hilbert