#ocean deity au

[kasel-the-mightless]

[OCEAN DEITY AU: First meeting]

Same scene, but without ✨romantic lighting✨

Since in my AU Odysseus and Penelope are gods who briefly took on the form of mortals, it makes sense that all this "I came to Helen but— PENELOPE" is a farce. But how did they actually meet then? Well—

I like to think that Odysseus accidentally got caught in Penelope's net, and while she was pulling him out, he fell hopelessly in love with her. Because instead of making eyes at the attractive and young god of the sea, she teased him endlessly and caught him in verbal traps

Then there was EVEN MORE exposition which i too lazy to write, Odysseus asked Penelope to marry him, but she told him she would accept his proposal if he solved her challenge. What is the challenge?

Since I'm very bad at coming up with these things, please forgive me, but I'm going to take a page from an old folk tale and slightly change it

The words of her test of Odysseus sounds like this: "My challenge is as follows: Visit my house tomorrow in the morning. But not on horse, not on foot, not dressed, not undressed, without a gift, but with a gift."

Penelope's house was high in the cliffs, and when she went out to meet Odysseus in the morning, she saw him, tightly wrapped in a fishing net, in his halfhuman form, riding towards her on a mountain goat. He smiled smugly

"Where's the gift?" Penelope asked, barely holding back her laughter

"Here," said Odysseus, and showed her a sparrow clutched in his palms, "A gift"

But as soon as he opened his hand, the sparrow fluttered in his hand and flew away

"And there is no gift," Penelope laughed

And so, in fact, they got married

P.s — Today I woke up late, I was freezing, and I wanted to cry from no reason. So, i just— listened to "We'll Be Fine" on repeat and drew my favorite married couple??? Yeah, sounds right

When I've done everything I planned, I'll make some sketches for this AU where I explain the feud between Odysseus and Poseidon. If you guys only knew what kind of circus it is between them....

[cloudysunflowr]

·｡°‧ “𝓜𝔂 𝓻𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓵𝓮” ·｡°‧

·｡°‧ “𝓜𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓻”·｡°‧

The nicknames they had for each other.

And I can imagine just the sounds of the waterfall around them as ocean creatures swim about and Aiden gawks in wonder and amazement JSJDKS

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡°‧𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

I love how this came out, makes me all soft

[jazzzzzzhands]

~To be as an Ocean, as a River

Changing, adding, losing and leaving marks in one's wake~

oooh ooh So i'm really very very normal about Deity Wally

He is sooo Gentle looking to me..

I just wanted to play with him..

He got a little Buoy as a tiny HAT!!

(I dont think he noticed)

Deity Wally @cloudysunflowr

[danganphobia]

laios calling toshiro ' princess ' enlightened me btw. theres so many good bits of the fic but like . thts so cute. i need to shake him around.

that was so self-indulgent of me lol but toshiro explaining folklore to laios meanwhile he looks like he could be one of those beautiful princesses laios sees in edo period illustrations himself is the painful irony here. i don't think toshiro sees highly of himself - so when laios gives him princess treatment it makes him feel very dizzy.

i love them so bad.

[gingerrhd]

Through a problem I 100 % created the raindiver folk of tumble have given me their propaganda an who am I to deny them

[waywardsalt]

yknow a really old fic idea i still might go ahead with was a bit of a phantom hourglass/links awakening crossover where somehow marin (pre events of la) gets transported to the great sea post-ph and picked up by link and linebeck, and they have to figure out a way to get her home

[ivyprism]

Revamping Some Deities and a New One (Info Dump)

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of Death.

Long!

Iyla - The Goddess of Life

Personality: A lighthearted, joyous force of nature. She is both fearless and irresponsible. She has a great set of skills that she uses quite often. She is very fond of gardening and is very good at it. She enjoys all animals and takes great care in her work. She is not hesitant to express herself, and she is very close to her twin sister, Pele. She makes every effort to safeguard and care for the people, places, and creatures in her care, despite her limited abilities. She is wary of violence, but don't confuse this with apathy; she will murder if necessary.

Appearance: Iyla appears to be a young woman with long white hair and green eyes. She appears to be 5'3". She has a slightly chubby figure. She is a half-goat monster and her goat monster form has a pale coat with powerful green eyes.

Link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/167775

Pele - The Goddess of Death

Personality: Pele is a patient and severe woman, much more so than her twin sister. She is reserved and intensely focused. She is continuously concerned about Iyla and wishes to assist her whenever possible. She takes great care in her work and is frequently a very unbiased judge when it comes to souls and punishment. She is frequently the less appreciated of the two, often feared despite her kindness. She has the ability to adjust her behavior in response to each individual soul, and she frequently overworks herself. She has a fondness for sewing and knitting.

Appearance: Pele appears to be a very young woman with long white hair and green eyes. She is identical to her twin sister. She appears to be 5'5". She has a slightly petite figure. She is a half-goat monster and her goat monster form has a pale coat with powerful green eyes.

Link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/167775

Ila - The Goddess of Souls

Personality: She is the ideal focal point for her sister. She is kind, but firm and direct. She is a wonderful and honest young lady. She is highly careful and diligent in her work as the one who manufactures or reforms souls. She works hard with what she has and sometimes gets too caught up in her work. She often has Pele return the pieces of her damaged creations because she relies on Iyla to build the vessels for her inventions. She is a really lovely and creative person who tries to be kind and helpful everywhere she can. She does her best to take care of what she can.

Appearance: Ila appears to be a very young woman with long white hair and green eyes. She is identical to her older sisters. She appears to be 5'3". She has a slightly chubby figure. She is a half-goat monster and her goat monster form has a pale coat with powerful green eyes.

Link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/167775

Isaac - The God of the Forge

Personality: He is a stern and rigorous individual who is not afraid to strike out and deal with those who interfere with his work. He is an angry and ferocious man who will warn anyone who bothers him while he is working. He is Iyla and Pele's older brother, but his story is not commonly known. He is easily irritated and does not take crap from anyone. He does not tolerate rudeness and feels that respect must be earned. He respects the executioners and crafts their weapons. He is a workaholic who is completely devoted to his profession; he rarely leaves his workspace.

Appearance: Isaac appears to be a young man with black hair and green eyes. He appears to be 6'3". He has an agile, muscular figure. He is a half-goat monster and his goat monster form has a pale coat with powerful green eyes.

Link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/54346

Faye - Goddess of Mercy

Personality: Faye is a very gentle and kind person who gives her all in everything. She adores her mother and greatly respects her. She has an deep love for the creatures of the world and often watches her aunt at work. She is a sweet and soft-hearted girl who tries her best to stand out and gain the respect she wants. Her magic is a bit unstable as she can't control them all that well yet, but she's working o it and trains often. She is a very serious pacifist who believes mercy is always an option. She, unfortunately, is not good at time management so her work is often out of whack. She loves knitting and sewing, like her mom.

Appearance: She is a half-elemental fire monster. She looks similar to Fuku Fire as she is 15 years old but her flames are red. She has green eyes from the looks of it. In human form, she has green eyes and red hair. She also is 5'2". She also has freckles.

Link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/54346

Bourne - God of the Ocean

Personality: He is a lighthearted and gentle god, yet he is also extremely unpredictable. To those who have wronged him, he can be nasty and spiteful. He is a highly powerful god who does not take kindly to being seriously mistreated. He doesn't intentionally injure anyone unless they harm his extremely valuable loved ones, and he avoids conflict wherever possible. He is extremely protective of the softer gods. He is a devoted friend and partner who cannot bear the notion of betraying them. He is a joyous, bright, and upbeat man who thrives on adrenaline. He also, for some reason, always seems to take off his shirts, especially near water.

Appearance: He is a sea monster. He has sharp teeth and appears to be a sort of sea serpent. His anthropomorphic form is similar to Viper's but he prefers his human form. He's 6'7" in human form. He has very built-in muscle. He has purple eyes. He wears an eyepatch.

Link: https://picrew.me/image_maker/54346

-------

@underfell-crystal @und3rwat3r-a5tr0naut @kioko-noodles / @kiokodoodles @miscneilleaneous @hearty-dose-of-ranch @caycanteven

[psychicbee]

let me tread your shores (i beg to be drowned)

by vminrisings (1/1, 15505)

and when you see how desperately the tides reach out for the moon—two lovers yearning for each other’s touch but never to meet—you will then understand the cruelty of the universe.

[pa1nrema1ns]

Master and Apprentice || Sung Jin-woo (Part 1 of 3)

Siren!Jin-woo x Deaf!Omega!reader

A/N - Hello everyone! This fic was inspired by the lovely @forbidden-sunlight's siren!au. We both collaborated on this piece and it serves as a direct sequel to her imagine, so do be sure to check it out first! This story picks up right where her imagine left off.

╰┈➤ Chapter Index

🪸 Prequel by @forbidden-sunlight 🌊 Part 2: Two Intertwining Melodies

Content warnings: 18+ MDNI, mythical creatures au, canon divergent, a/b/o dynamics, afab!reader, suggestive themes, obsessive thoughts, slightly ooc Jin-woo (he's very reverent towards Ashborn), mentions of violence, death, and despair, forbidden romance (humans and sirens are natural enemies), eventual yandere!Jin-woo.

Word Count - 3.6k

Summary - Sung Jin-woo seeks answers about his potential mate from Ashborn in the deepest depths of the abyss.

Dividers by @anitalenia and @firefly-graphics

After what feels like an eternity, Jin-woo comes to an abrupt stop. He wasn’t tired in the slightest, but he couldn’t finish this journey unless he was in the right frame of mind. If he was going to face the sea monarch, Ashborn, then he needed to compose himself. He was his mentor’s prized disciple, after all.

Resolute in his decision, Jin-woo pinches his brow, shuts his eyes, and releases a deep, suffering sigh. He had to stop ruminating over the useless ‘what ifs’ of his current situation and focus on the matter at hand. You emitting pheromones in his presence was proof enough that you were a compatible mate, but this would be meaningless if you were unreceptive to him. It also begs the question, was humanity even capable of consorting with sirens? In search of an answer, he reminisces about the tales of old passed down by generations of his kin, as well as the many speculations made by humans.

No one knew the exact origins of his species. Most humans assumed the progenitors were Persephone’s handmaidens, punished by Demeter after Hades had taken her daughter to the underworld and forced her into becoming his queen. Some stories also claimed that seafoam  birthed them, but Jin-woo scoffed at this particularly ridiculous rumor. A scholar had recently published an article on how sirens may actually be the offspring of the river deity Achelous and a divine songstress, citing notations from various mythos on this theory. In truth, reality was far simpler than any of these far-fetched narratives.

There was just no definitive explanation for the existence of sirens. They were not interchangeable with the peaceful denizens of the ocean, known as mermaids and mermen. While all fell under the umbrella of the term ‘merfolk,’ the sirens had a far more hostile and bloodstained relationship with humans.

Since time immemorial, his brethren were viewed as nothing but a scourge upon this world of humanity. Beautiful as a raging typhoon and every bit as devastating, the sirens served as harbingers of doom and destruction for those foolish enough to risk the perilous waters. Their heavenly voices were tantamount to the funeral dirges used to usher the dead into the afterlife. It would be understandable to believe that the sirens were the monsters in this baleful story. However, human nature at its core is fraught with wickedness, and men soon grew wise to the machinations of merfolk.

Odysseus was the first to survive an encounter with sirens. During his voyage to Ithaca, the cunning man had instructed his crew to plug their ears with beeswax, effectively blocking the intoxicating songs that had ended the lives of so many before them. Emboldened by the success of Odysseus’s scheme, other sailors began using this method to conquer the sea and establish trade routes. Within a matter of a couple hundred years, humans not only overcame their fear of sirens, but they also poached them. Huntsmen would capture, torture, and kill Jin-woo’s ancestors simply for crossing paths with them. Worse yet, these scoundrels would often murder merfolk solely to harvest their organs, bones, and scales. They would then use the defiled corpses as ingredients for commodities, medication, and even aphrodisiacs. It was truly grotesque, if not outright barbaric, and more than justified the ire his kind felt towards humanity. While they hunted for the noble sake of survival, men did it for bloodsport and money.

The horrific fates suffered by many of their beloved brothers and sisters particularly infuriated the alphas, with their robust constitutions and natural sense of leadership. With a thirst for vengeance, they began targeting and attacking ships, ports, and even beaches. The alphas considered any place or vehicle that harbored humans as eligible targets. The less temperamental betas remained neutral and avoided the bloodshed, opting to prey upon shoals of fish and other maritime animals instead. Omegas could not join in the hunt, as they were far too precious to lose. They were the most cherished and talented singers amongst the sirens and required around-the-clock protection because of their significant rarity. These were the origins of the current hierarchical structure Jin-woo adhered to.

After recalling the tumultuous history of his people in its entirety, Jin-woo clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white. This was so damn frustrating! Rather than granting him an understanding of his attraction, it just proved all the more why it was so illogical. 

Defeated, Jin-woo raises his head, opens his eyes, and continues to swim.

Another hour passes before he finds himself at the ingress of Ashborn’s lair. His enigmatic teacher lived in almost complete obscurity. Devoid of any light, and enveloped by a suffocating aura, this nautical cavern intimidated all who dared to approach it. Well, almost all that is apart from Jin-woo. He effortlessly permeates the invisible barrier designed to keep intruders at bay and ventures into his master’s spiritual domain.

Despite being an ancient and powerful king of the sea, Ashborn made the strange decision to emulate a land-like environment in his personal chambers.

As Jin-woo manifests into the realm, his appearance gives way to a form more befitting of a land dweller. His tail separates into two legs, his scales smoothen into skin, and he loses the winged fins on his ears and back. Once finished with this metamorphosis, Jin-woo takes a deep breath. Fresh pine, grass, and flowers perfume the air as he’s greeted by a lush valley. It had been a while since he had visited, and the setting had required him to transform into a human. Interestingly, transfiguration was one of the first skills Ashborn taught him. Speaking of his mentor –

“My disciple, it is good to see you again, though you appear…troubled. Tell me, what ails you so?” A rumbling voice rings across the horizon, signaling Ashborn’s approach; the tenebrous essence of the powerful deity contrasting with the greenery of the land. He appears in front of Jin-woo as a great dark knight. Much like his surroundings, Ashborn’s current visage was nothing but an illusion. Even the bravest of warriors said that his lifelike image invoked sheer terror in their hearts.

Many speculate he possesses a massive stature, at least several leagues in height and breadth alone, with piercing eyes and endless tendrils of dark hair. Others claim he is the son of Poseidon, one of the twelve Olympians, and a God of destruction who presided over the sea. However, Jin-woo never once witnessed this side of his teacher in all the years he’s been under his mentorship. Ashborn certainly exuded dignity, but he still displayed a humble attitude. And without fail, he would always appear in that strange, armored suit whenever he was in Jin-woo’s presence.

“My teacher, I must ask for your help on an urgent matter,” Jin-woo starts, anxiously running his tongue across his bottom lip. “This morning, while I was scavenging, I stumbled across the unmistakable aroma of an unmarked omega. It…it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. As if I was being beckoned by someone or something. I wanted, no, I needed to heed its call.”

Ashborn listens in silence, his expression indiscernible. Jin-woo continued.

 “When I arrived, I was in front of a monstrosity of a ship – a yacht right by the sandbanks. At first, I assumed that someone had taken an unfortunate siren captive. But when I finally saw her–”

“You recognized she was human. Not only that, but she belongs to the lowest level of the hierarchy, an omega. Speak if I am wrong, my dear pupil.” Jin-woo lowers his head in shame, fringe obscuring his eyes. This action all but confirms it.

“I don’t know what to do or how to proceed, teacher. Everything I’ve learned about these creatures has made me detest them. But I can’t bring myself to hate her. How could this even be possible? We are not even of the same species. She’s my enemy, my prey…. At least, she’s supposed to be.” His voice lowers into a near whisper as he ends his confused rambling.

“And yet you don’t view her that way, do you child?” Ashborn poses a question he already knows the answer to but needs to hear in his pupil’s own words.

“No, I don’t,” Jin-woo replies grimly. “I yearn to know more about her. And not just that. I want to meet her, court her, and make her mine. If she’ll even have me, that is… So please, teacher, tell me if there is any meaning behind what I feel. Am I destined for something that bears no place in reality?”

Ashborn remains uncharacteristically quiet while faced with such a loaded question. All is eerily silent for a few moments, save for the cheerful chirping of the illusionary songbirds. At last, the monarch gazes at Jin-woo and gives him the answer he so desperately desires.

“It is entirely possible Sung Jin-woo, alpha of Jindo island, for I am proof of such a fantastical circumstance. My first and only love was also a human omega. A woman I devoted my entire being to over a millennium ago.”

Jin-woo’s eyes widened in shock at this revelation. His mentor had fallen in love at some point, and it was with a member of the human race? This was unheard of.

“I never knew you had a lover,” Jin-woo murmurs softly. “What was she like? Do you still remember everything about her after so many years?”

“Let me show you, my disciple. It is a tragic tale that words alone cannot properly convey.” With a wave of Ashborn’s hand, their surroundings began to morph and alter. The valley transforms into a spacious, yet quaint medieval village composed of several wooden houses with a bustling marketplace at its center.

When Jin-woo regains his bearings, he notices his mentor has also metamorphosized. A man with a sun kissed complexion, long dark hair, and a beard stands where he once stood. Though visibly unrecognizable, he was unmistakably Ashborn. A crimson cape was clasped to the pristine silver armor he wore. A paladin. Jin-woo recalls. He had some knowledge of the past lives of men through his rare excursions onto the Mainland. While disguised as a human, Jin-woo once traded in his goods for a textbook on history. He was loath to admit just how intriguing he had found it.

Ashborn speaks, his voice no longer resonating within the confines of shadowy steel.

“It was here in this village that I came across her. She was the only daughter of a peasant farmer. A strong-willed, rapscallion of a woman with a wit sharper than any blade. I can remember her beauty, her warmth, and her tenacity as clear and concise as the day we met.” He says with a wistful gaze. The scene then shifts to a woman in a pure white gown. Her eyes remained hidden, but it did nothing to impede upon her loveliness. The woman runs animatedly towards a man who looks identical to Ashborn’s borrowed likeness and leaps into his arms. The man then effortlessly spins her around before bringing her into a kiss. Jin-woo watches on, mesmerized by what was unfolding in front of him.

“I feared her rejection once she knew the truth of my identity,” Ashborn admits. “On the night we first made love, I finally revealed to her my status as ruler of the sea. However, it did not matter. She loved me wholly and unconditionally, regardless of who or what I was. Such was the strength of her resolve.” In the next instance, they return to the same valley from earlier. What differs this time is that the man and woman are there, unacknowledging of Jin-woo and Ashborn’s presence. Lost in their own special world. The woman has a flower crown on her head, and she sits on the grass, holding the man’s head in her lap. Both appear happy and at ease.

“For the first time in my existence, I experienced true contentment. I long to return to those days, but alas, our bliss did not last.”

Ashborn solemnly shuts his eyes as darkness overtakes the sky and rain falls. The man is now shown standing at a grave with an expression of anguish marring his face. The woman is nowhere to be seen, although Jin-woo knows exactly where she’s at.

“A plague was scourging the land and indiscriminately ending the lives of thousands. I tried to protect her with my magic, but it was to no avail. She fell gravely ill despite my best efforts. I discovered shortly thereafter that omegas were more susceptible to sickness than their contemporaries. If I had known beforehand, I would’ve brought her to the sea with me, away from that damned disease. But I was a fool who was willing to love and live with her as a man, not as a king. And as punishment for my hubris, an ailment snuffed out her life.”

At the end of his recollection, Ashborn’s lair returns to its original state. His mentor had also regained his shadowy exterior. The valley appears completely untouched by time, as if it were still one thousand years in the past. That’s why his lair looks like this. Jin-woo thinks as he finally recognizes its significance, It was their personal sanctuary. After a few moments of silence, Ashborn speaks.

“Although our circumstances are similar, you still have the privilege of choice. I cannot turn back time, nor can I change the past, but I am grateful. I experienced unspeakable grief, yes, but I also would have never encountered such love, tenderness, and passion had I not taken a chance on my omega. You, my disciple, still have free rein over your decision. Should you choose to pursue this woman, you have my blessing and irrefutable proof that she is a viable mate for you. If not, you will still receive my unwavering support in your future endeavors. The choice is yours to make.”

Jin-woo’s throat bobs. He feels an incredible sense of guilt at unearthing his master’s secret.

“My teacher, I apologize for prying into your past. I – I did not mean to bring up painful memories for you. I cannot imagine what you have endured. As of right now, I am not sure what it is I want, but I know for a fact I cannot give up on this human. I will need some time to contemplate and sort out my feelings. If you will excuse me.”

Jin-woo bows his head before turning to take his leave. As he approaches the exit, a sudden thought emerges at the forefront of his mind.

“Teacher, there is one more question I must ask. This human, she does not speak with words. She communicates with her hands and gestures. Is this some type of sorcery or spell that she’s casting?”

“It is most likely sign language, a manner of non-verbal communication used by humans who are unable to vocalize or hear. Perhaps she cannot speak, or has a hearing impairment, so she must express herself through other means.” Ashborn answers, curiosity lacing his voice.

Jin-woo feels his heart sinking. A siren’s serenade played a pivotal role in the mating ritual and was performed just prior to consummating an eternal bond. If what Ashborn said is true, then there is a possibility you could be immune to his song. This meant he wouldn't be able to use it on you when the time came…

He grits his teeth as he remembers your smiling face. Try as he might, Jin-woo just could not get you out of his head, nor was he willing to let you escape his grasp. You may not have realized it yet, but you had unknowingly sunk your fangs into him and the seeds of obsession were already beginning to take root. Rather than being discouraged by Ashborn’s observation, he instead finds himself reinvigorated.

“Teacher, disregard everything I said earlier. I now know what it is I must do.”

Ashborn peers into the eyes of his disciple, relieved by the determination that lights them. This was much more like the obstinate young man he knew.

“I choose to seek this omega and stake my claim, no matter what challenges may await the two of us,” Jin-woo proclaims proudly. “I will make her mine, but only if she consents to my proposal. And if not through song, then through other courtship methods. I am strong, stronger than any other alpha in my territory, and I know I can protect her from all who would wish her harm. I won’t let my mate slip through my fingers.”

“But what of maladies and the passage of time? You can fight against gods and monsters until the end of your days, but sickness or her ephemeral lifespan will not spare this young woman. In the end, your time with her shall be fleeting.” Ashborn ruthlessly counters Jin-woo’s declaration of protection.

Jin-woo bites his lip, not expecting this development. However, before he can muster a response, his mentor graces him with an answer.

“I know of one way you can overcome this. There is a recipe for an elixir known as the Holy Water of Life. It is a miraculous potion that can imbue invulnerability to communicable diseases, extend lifespan, and transform the consumer into a siren. I unfortunately did not have knowledge of such a panacea while I was with my love. Of course, I live with the regret of not discovering it sooner, as now I have no such use for it, but this does not mean I will idly stand by and let history repeat itself with my protégé.”

With a flash of light, an ancient scroll appears in front of Jin-woo. It unravels by itself to reveal its contents to him. Jin-woo’s eyes widen as he reads. Is this…?

“Behold. The ingredients for crafting the Holy Water of Life. I bequeath this boon unto you, my disciple. However, heed my warning as the acquisition of these components requires you to conquer all 100 floors of the Demon’s Castle and to defeat its king, Baran. This is a treacherous dungeon that may claim your life if you are unprepared for it, but it can also impart you with unspeakable power should you prevail.”

Jin-woo perks up at this information, his interest now fully piqued. “Tell me, master, where can I find the Demon’s Castle?”

“It hides far away, in the city of Seoul, within an incorporeal dominion. It is a flame-ridden landscape that will require you to assume the form of a human to enter the castle. Knowing all the risks it entails; do you still accept my offer?”

“I do,” Jinwoo confidently states.

“Very well,” Ashborn nods his assent, and a key materializes into Jin-woo’s palm.

“Use this key to open the gate to the Demon’s Castle. I have also implanted it with the coordinates to the dungeon’s location. You need only close your eyes and grasp onto the key to visualize it.”

Following the instructions, Jin-woo sees a map that details the exact distance from his current whereabouts to the metropolitan area of Seoul. It will be a lengthy trip, even with his impressive swimming prowess. He estimates it will take roughly half a day to arrive at his destination. Undeterred, Jin-woo presses onward.

“Teacher, I cannot thank you enough for all your help and guidance over these last few years. I give you my word; I will return alive and well, both with the elixir and Baran’s head. And then I will meet with the omega and court her in earnest.”

He departs without another word, although his promise relays an unspoken farewell between them. After some time passes, Ashborn stares at the vast skies of his domain and muses to himself.

“You have grown so much from when I rescued you from the Cartenon Temple all those years ago, Sung Jin-woo. I could not be prouder of you, my disciple. Till our next encounter.”

12 hours later...

Jin-woo finally emerges from the dark, briny waters that frame Seoul’s coastline.

After leaving Ashborn’s lair, he briefly returned home to pack and prepare for the journey ahead. Both Jin-ah and his mother were worried about his sudden departure, so he did the best he could to assuage their fears by giving them a sanitized version of the truth.

Jin-woo claimed Ashborn had provided him with a list of rare ingredients that were only available for purchase in the human markets at Seoul. He even promised to bring back a box of chocolates as a souvenir, something his mother and little sister had enjoyed during one of his return trips to the surface. He then traveled the full 413-kilometer distance from Jindo-gun to Seoul, stopping only for a few hours to rest and recuperate.

As he approaches land, he assumes the form of a naked human man and walks inland from the sea. However, Jin-woo comes to a halt when he becomes more aware of his current state of nudity. While it didn’t bother him, it would cause a lot of unnecessary trouble if any nosy beachgoers happened upon him and asked questions. It is also…pretty embarrassing to admit that he is…wobbly on these legs. Very much so.

He quickly summons his magical inventory and grabs a simple black t-shirt, boxers, fitted jeans, and athletic sneakers (‘Adidas’, the portly sales attendant had called them). As worthless as he found human decorum to be, Jin-woo needed to remain as inconspicuous as possible while he was in disguise. Once dressed, he strolled into the city. After 45 minutes, he found himself at the designated street junction on the map. Taking a deep breath, he brings forth the key, turns it, and unlocks the gate. 

⚓︎ To be continued...

[cheollipop]

✾ — 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

navi | taglist

pairing: husband!park seonghwa x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.0k

genre: smut, fluff, newlyweds on their honeymoon au

song recs: golden hour by jvke, my love mine all mine by mitski, vanilla by kai

with the caribbean breeze ruffling through silky locks, leaving its salty remnants on sunkissed skin, fingers tangled in a lifetime's embrace as you adjusted to the added weight of the metal bands reflecting the gleaming moonlight. tonight, and for decades to come, seonghwa thanked every deity he knew the name of for making you his.

warnings: food/eating is prevalent in the first few paragraphs, lovemaking, soft/service dom!seonghwa, possessive!hwa fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nicknames (hwa; pretty girl, darling, love, baby, 'wife'), a lot of kisses, like fr a lot, they're both very desperate and needy and impatient and in love, it's so sappy I'm disgusted with myself.

A/N: bai @hwaightme, thank you for ideating with me all those months ago. I'm happy I finally found the time to write it out, and I really hope I was able to do hwasband (heh) justice. happy reading <3

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

A day of mingling with locals, hopping between souvenir shops and family-owned restaurants, the taste of salt in the air with the ocean breeze ruffling through your hair, hand in hand as you moved under the midday sun. Vivid splashes of colour decorated the markets, clothes and fruit—a ripe mango sitting, half-eaten, on Seonghwa’s palm—laid out on wooden booths while merchants called out to the tourists passing through the narrow pathway. The once overwhelming scent of red roses emanating from the small bouquet in your hand now dissipated under the mouth-watering spices wafting from the street food stalls Seonghwa walked you past, stopping at each one to shovel a variety of fried pastries and desserts into your mouth. 

“You should try this too,” he spoke as he excitedly fed you another bite, pressing the pastry past your lips with two fingers to make space between the rest of the food you struggled to chew. 

“Hwa, wait—mmph!” 

The man standing behind the bar chuckled to himself, golden skin hugged by the Caribbean sun and the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a lifetime of smiles. “You should listen to your husband, Ma'am.” 

You turned towards each other, eyes meeting amidst the bustling crowd surrounding you. Husband. It had a good ring to it. Taking in the pink dusting Seonghwa’s cheeks, the timid curl of his lips while he eyed you with hearts in his eyes, you wondered whether the heat warming your cheeks, the butterflies fluttering in your lower belly, and the overwhelming adoration you felt towards the man before you, were just as obvious. As though nothing and no one else existed, even within the populous market, Seonghwa stared at you with unrivalled infatuation, his hand raising to brush a smear of sauce off the side of your mouth, bringing it to his own for a taste. The fresh wave of heat flushing your face at his antics fuelled his ego, lips stretching further at your bashfulness. You were just too cute. 

Turning his attention back towards the merchant, his next order dying at the tip of his tongue as your free hand locked with his, dragging him out of the market with a quick “thank you” as you continued to chew on what was left of all the bites he’d clogged your throat with. 

You made Seonghwa carry your shoes while you wiped the food off your mouth, glaring at him as he giggled to himself, bare feet leaving imprints over soft, white sand. He guided you closer to the shore, until gentle waves tickled your soles, and rather than remnants of fine dust over tanned skin, you now carried bits of the beach with you every step you took. 

Seonghwa’s fingers found yours, his other hand struggling to hold two pairs of shoes while he pulled you closer to his side, his eyes fixing on yours before moving to scan the rest of your face, as though the shadows sculpting your features were far more entrancing than the scene unfolding to his left. Your face warmed under his unrelenting gaze, and despite your best efforts at redirecting his stare towards the changing sky—the plastic wrapped around red roses colliding with his jaw as you pushed it to the side, only for it to sway back in your direction—his attention remained on you. So you dragged him away from the water, damp feet collecting a sheet of sand as you walked further up on the beach, seating yourself and waiting for the smiley man to join you, pearly teeth reflecting the golden rays.  

The orb of light moved closer to the horizon, a gradient of oranges and pinks encompassing the breadth of the sky, twinkling stars peeking out as it darkened, still hidden behind tufts of cotton candy clouds moving with the gentle breeze. The salt tickled your nostrils, and the chill ruffled through your top, Seonghwa’s arm naturally wrapping around your figure to bring you closer, his warmth spreading through you despite the thin, white button-up covering his torso, swaying with the wind to reveal bits of his tanned chest through the unbuttoned lapel. Your hand rested over his thigh, and without a second thought, his own moved to cover it, looking down to examine the orange hue cast over metal, your wedding rings clanging against one another while the setting sun graced the interlocked fingers with the last of its warmth. Lifting your head back up, you took in the universe’s breathtaking show of love as the sun kissed the horizon goodbye, bidding its farewells as they parted for the night, beginning its decent into the pool of tears it’d left behind, its reflection making it appear whole.  

“Pretty,” you breathed out, watching as pinks shifted to purples, and the stars shone through disappearing clouds.  

Seonghwa hummed, the deep baritone dragging your attention off the collision and to the sincere eyes mooning over your profile. Heat flooded your cheeks once again, and with the cooling breeze, shifting the blame onto the summer’s torridity was no longer possible. Instead, you allowed the tranquillity gracing Seonghwa’s sharp features to drag you away from the bewitching sunset. Dark locks fanned over his forehead, stray strands following the salty gusts before falling back into place, eyelashes casting faint shadows over defined cheekbones, and plump lips forming into an easy smile as he took you in. 

He dragged your locked hands up his thigh, leaning closer to slot his lips against yours, leaving the universe to bear witness to his own show of love, with the golden, dying rays to serve as his backdrop. How many love songs had you heard say, ‘he takes my breath away’? Seonghwa did. In everything he did, even simply under his gentle gaze, you’d often find yourself breathless.  

Drawing back, hot air blew against your mouth, wide, glimmering eyes mooning over your dazed features, and after what felt like an eternity later, Seonghwa’s lips touched yours once again. Sparks flew in every direction, the world slowly disappearing around you, and you wondered how a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying, how it could light a million fires within you. Like dancers sashaying to a melody, your lips moved together as waves crashed against the sandy shore, and in that moment, it felt as though you were floating in space and everything around you had turned to dust. 

You leaned your body forward, attempting to deepen the kiss that had captured your entire being in a whirlwind of fervour and yearning, but just as you did, Seonghwa moved back. Features softened under the dying rays, he peered at you through his eyelashes for a few moments, taking in the subtle pout on your lips at the sudden parting before averting his gaze towards the locked fingers resting on his thigh. Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the curved slope of his nose, over the feathered eyelashes and lips you’d just gotten a taste of, sensing the gentle ministrations of his hand as it fiddled with your ring. A ring you were still accustoming to the weight of, the gemstone offering a pleasant reminder of a man you now returned home to every night. A man with a million stars in his eyes, and yet preferred to gaze upon you, to moon over your very existence as though you’d crafted the universe around him with nothing but calloused hands. With scenery as breathtaking as the one before you—a celebration of vibrant fuchsia and coral—Seonghwa’s gaze never left your profile, admiring the sunset through its reflection over your skin, the shadows it carved, the pretty eyes in which it glimmered within. And just as the sun kissed the horizon while it set, and once again as it rose, Seonghwa's lips moved in a whispered prayer: to greet the rest of his days with the caress of your warm breath against his skin, carrying the thought of you as he navigated his hours, and to find you in the gentle embrace of slumber, a steadfast companion by his side. 

Your voice dragged him out of his daydreams, “what are you thinking about?” 

Gentle eyes flitted upwards to meet yours, his response nearly instant, “only you.” The sincerity in his tone, the tenderness in his eyes, the gentle sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, delicate over the twinkling stone decorating your ring finger, Seonghwa continued to ignore the world around him and solely focused on you—the gentle squeeze around his fingers every few seconds, the alluring smile gracing your lips, the slow pace in which you blinked, as though drunk on his voice, his scent, his presence. It was though he was intoxicated by you, an addict who can’t help but want more, even when you’d offered him all you could spare. Leaning towards you once again, he pressed a feathery kiss to your cheekbone, sensing the benign flutter of your eyelashes against his skin before drawing back to meet your eyes once again, hot breath mingling in the small gap between your faces as he muttered the words under his breath, “let’s go back.” 

-- 

One unsteady step at a time, Seonghwa walked you backwards into the hotel room, palm splayed out on your lower back to keep you balanced. White sand dusted off the clothes he pulled off your frame, wandering hands taking in the lingering warmth of a sun long gone. Your fingers feathered over the prominent tan lines painting his chest, faint freckles littered over the reddened skin. Flitting your eyes back to his face, you found Seonghwa’s gaze fixed on your lips. So you gave him what he yearned for, pressing them against the plush of his and inhaling the breath he’d been holding, too immersed in astral daydreams about a lifetime of you to listen to his burning lungs.  

He moved slowly, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go in favour of pressing your tongues together, contrasting the frantic shuffling of his hands over every inch of skin revealed to him. You held him close, chests flush as you allowed him to take whatever he needed, only pulling away to slide off the bra he’d nimbly unclasped. Gentle fingers glided over your figure, squeezing and tugging at the flesh as though he’d never have the luxury of touching you after tonight, his kisses hungry as he robbed your lungs of the last of their oxygen. 

Soft sheets collided with your back, and you had only a few seconds to revel in the coolness against your heated skin before Seonghwa was back on you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to press hurried kisses down its length. His lips moved over the slope of your breast, tongue peeking out to circle your perked-up nipple before descending the tender skin to feather kisses along your ribs. You recognized the pattern, his movements familiar as he trailed down the body he’d stripped nearly bare, fingertips ghosting over the lacey waistband hugging your hips. Soon, he’d prop your legs over broad shoulders, salivating as he buried his nose into your clit while he lapped at your dripping arousal like a starved man.  

A sense of urgency flooded your gut as he dug his nose under your bellybutton, your hand flying to his freckled shoulder with a mutter of his name rolling off your tongue. He looked up at you, pupils blown out and a sheen of spit coating his parted lips as he prepared himself for your sweet taste, his appetite growing the closer he got to your core.  

Wrapping your fingers around his bicep, you tugged him upwards, but he resisted, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, “baby?” 

“I can’t wait, Hwa, ‘want you now,” you breathed out, feeling his muscles relax under your touch and his hesitant ascend back to face-level.  

You could hear the unspoken complaint forming at the back of his throat, so you moved your hand to his nape and brought him down to slot your lips together. Desperation poured out of you, teeth clashing as you pulled him impossibly closer, drunk on the softness of his lips. You guided his hand to your clothed heat, pushing it past the waistband so soft fingers could slide through the wetness staining the white lace they’d gifted you. A muttered curse vibrated against your lips, Seonghwa’s nose nuzzling against yours for a moment before capturing your mouth in an avid embrace once again, his free hand leading yours down the lean muscle to where he needed you the most, to where his burning want strained against his briefs.  

An airy moan muffled against his frantic lips, the slight part in yours welcoming his tongue in to run over your front teeth, “fuck, ‘want you, please-” 

“Shh,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, “just for a little bit, my love.” You whimpered in protest, but he only smiled at your frustration, pressing more kisses over your eyelids, forcing them shut with the gesture. “I gotta make sure you’re ready for me, darling. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.” 

You knew he would. From the building pace of his fingers on your clit, drawing perfect circles and sending jolting waves of long-awaited pleasure up your spine, to the trail of kisses he planted down the side of your neck, you knew he would. Forming a ‘v’ around the bud, he slid the digits down to your folds, his middle finger circling your needy hole before slipping inside. He didn’t bother with finding your g-spot before sliding in another, his unconcealed impatience evident in the quick, shallow thrusts.  

Your gaze flitting down to his middle, you pushed past the elastic band to feel his cock twitch in your palm, squeezing around his base to take in the shifts in his expression—eyebrows drawn in, lashes fluttering as he melted under your tender touch before he rested his forehead onto your chest. He used his free hand to make a quick work of sliding off his briefs—rather ungracefully, but you held back your comments—tossing them off the bed before guiding your hand back to his waiting cock. Following the throbbing vein lining his length, you were met with the obscene amount of translucent precum spurting from his cockhead, rolling your wrist and sliding the slick down the hard shaft, then back up to feel him shudder atop of you. 

“Fuck, just like that-” 

His fingers slipped out of you with a groan, and you whined at the loss, your dripping cunt clenching uselessly. But Seonghwa was smearing your own slick over the back of your thigh while pushing it to the side, spreading you apart to slot himself between your legs. You pulled your hand away before he could trap it between your burning cores, his cock sliding deliciously between your soaked folds and nudging your clit with every slippery glide.  

You reached down, placing a palm over his cockhead to trap him against you, “Hwa, hurry,” a faint whisper, you pressed down once he sunk his hips lower, and sighed in relief once the tip breached your fluttering hole.  

The slow drag as he buried himself within your heat left you in a shared trance, eyes locked and lips parted, stunted exhales mingling in the negligible gap separating your faces. Slender fingers tangled with yours, moonlit wedding bands pressing imprints into your skin as he grinded languidly into you, eyelashes fluttering but gaze never faltering off your face, revelling in the luring shifts in your features as you gracefully drowned in the pleasure he so generously gave you. Even in the dim, bluish tone the cosy hotel room swam in, you could see the abstract hearts painting his glimmering irises, Seonghwa's warm body lowering onto yours until a comfortable amount of his weight rested atop you. Despite the tenderness of his touch, the delicate kisses he peppered your face with—barely-there pecks over your eyelids, on your cheeks and down to the corners of your mouth—Seonghwa’s hips had built a steady pace, barely pulling out as he rolled them insistently, the squelch of your cunt harmonizing with the pitched pants echoing between the four walls.  

“My wife,” he muttered suddenly, dragging you away from the hazy pleasure clouding your mind and to wide, glassy eyes peering at you as though you’d parted the sea with a mere whisper. His palm cradled your jaw, curved nose nuzzling into your cheek while his other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as the realization dawned on him for the nth time since he’d slid the polished band onto your trembling finger. “Fuck, you’re my wife.” 

A soft giggle shook your shoulders, your hand sliding over Seonghwa’s at your jaw while the other drew lines onto his lower back. “Mm, my husband.” 

Seonghwa was a man blinded by sudden cognizance—first life or not, the universe had been astonishingly kind to him, granting him a lifetime of nights such as this, emanated by the raw desire to love. To give love, and to receive it, from a woman crafted by the heavens themselves, a woman who presented him with love’s true form. Who painted the world around him brighter, more vivid, until a life without her seemed riddled with dreary grey tones and melancholy.  

“All mine.” 

A fond smile stretched your lips, brushing your fingers through silky, dark locks while admiring his dazed features, “all yours.” 

His body heat encapsulated your form, toned arms wrapped securely around your shoulders and face tucked into your neck as measured rolls of his hips switched to frantic thrusts. Unable to move, you simply laid beneath him and took it, squeezing around him with every shock of pleasure he fucked through you, cock twitching violently between your walls as he barrelled towards his high.  

“My perfect wife,” he mumbled into your damp skin like a crazed man, “gonna give you all I have.” You scrambled to reach for his face, pulling it up to meet lidded eyes, pathetic, airy moans leaving plump lips, and he twitched inside you as you watched him fall apart. “Here—hah—here it comes, darling. Take it all, yeah?”  

Blown out pupils rolled back to reveal the whites of his eyes, lashes violently fluttering before he’d sealed his lids shut, his head tilting backwards as far as it could go as ecstasy rushed through his body in searing shockwaves, pumping his cock into you sloppily until he grew still, a day’s worth of neediness and want pouring out of him in watery ribbons of pearly white. 

You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to savour the sight before you: heavily lidded gaze fixed on yours, eyebrows drawn in, and spit-soaked lips hanging open as broken, breathy moans reverberated in the air separating you. You felt so full, and yet Seonghwa’s cock was still feeding weak spurts of cum into your womb, a delicate thumb rubbing soothing circles over your waist. And just when you thought he’d been milked dry, he dragged his cock halfway out of your clenching cunt and back into its inviting warmth, hissing at the sensitivity as he built up his pace until a whimper fell off your lips and you finally succumbed to the pleasure weighing down on your eyelids. 

Soft lips pecked over your eyelashes, honeyed voice ruffling them with warm exhales, “Open your eyes, my love. Let me see you.” 

And how could you refuse him such a soft-spoken request? Stars danced in your vision as you took in Seonghwa’s expression once again—hints of pain masked by overwhelming infatuation and need, as though he could power through the oversensitivity so long as he remained engulfed in your warmth.  

“Hwa.” 

“My pretty girl, my wife—” he spoke as though still in disbelief. His chest heaved, and violent shudders shook his body with the silky glide of his cock over your walls, a ring of cream forming around his base as he fucked your slick and his cum back into the used hole. “Gonna come for me?” 

Nodding frenziedly, you held on to his shoulders, sliding your hands up to his nape and into his hair, wanting to hold onto something but failing to decide on what. But then you were clamping around him, and two pairs of hands desperately clutched the other’s skin, lips meeting in the middle only to expel stunted gasps into each other’s mouths as though you were centuries-old lovers recently reunited. Seonghwa guided you through your orgasm, holding onto your trembling frame even as you tightened around his sensitive cock, two fingers slipping between your sticky bodies to rub circles over your clit.  

“Hwa, fuck—” Back arching, your nipples pressed against his, hips simultaneously seeking more of his touch and jerking away from it. 

“That’s it, baby, ‘being so good for me,” he slipped his cock out of you, a sigh of relief warming your face as his fingers continued their movement over your clit. “Look at you, so full you can’t keep it all in?” 

You followed his gaze down to your core, hips spasming as the stimulation panged at your nerves, but you found yourself transfixed on the thick stream of cum falling out of your pulsating cunt in gallops. Seonghwa’s lust-heavy eyes widened as another wave of your orgasm rushed through you, vivid colours obscuring your blurry vision before fireworks exploded behind your squeezed-shut eyelids. Your fingers grasped desperately at Seonghwa’s wrist, sensing him begrudgingly pull away to grant you some reprieve.   

You weren’t sure how long it took you to come down, to gather the last fragments of energy you had to force your eyes open, to notice the skilled hands ridding you of the knots in the aching muscles of your hips, but you felt at ease knowing Seonghwa was there to welcome you back whenever you were ready. His gaze—ever so gentle—fixed upon your tranquil features, propped up on an elbow while his body laid by your side to give you room to breathe, your chest still heaving from the force of your high. You noticed the subtle, unconscious flick of his stare down to your thighs every few seconds, taking interest in your fruitless battle against the insistent spasms jolting your lower half. 

Huffing out a laugh, you dragged his attention back to your face, and his body slid closer to yours, placing his head on the pillow beside you and watching you shift onto your side. The duvet pulled taut over sweaty bodies, shielded from the chilly ocean breeze, the arms snaked around your waist pulled you into Seonghwa’s chest, any thoughts about leaving the soiled bed dissipating within the man’s secure embrace.  

You inhaled the salty Caribbean scent off his tanned skin, remnants of the luxury perfume he’d sprayed on that morning mixing in with nature’s cologne. Before you could nuzzle closer into his neck, a gentle grip on your nape pulled you back to meet soft eyes, yours fluttering shut once plush lips pressed against your cheekbone, then your forehead, and your nose, until he found your cupid's bow. It was barely a kiss, more so a standstill as you held your lips together, pressing and nipping against the other’s sluggishly as you both fought off sleep’s insistent nagging.  

Beads of sweat slowly dried over your skin, the moonlight filtering through the cracked blinds reflecting through them before dying out. Drunk on one another, you were too occupied to notice the cool-toned shift in hues painting the white walls, missing the sun’s final farewells before it disappeared behind the horizon, and the emergence of glimmering stars to replace the striking gradient of oranges and pinks. You'd missed nature’s tragic goodbye while immersed in your own ardent union. Now, only the moon and its stars bore witness to the lethargic dance of lips hidden under the floral-scented duvet Seonghwa had pulled over your intertwined frame.

Sand still dusted slick skin, and warm breaths mingled in the stuffy space you’d cramped yourselves in, bodies flush against one another as you succumbed to the siren invite of slumber, wishing upon a lifetime emanated by such bliss, tranquillity, and ardour. 

reblogs/feedback are greatly appreciated!! ^^ apply for my tag list here (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[kasel-the-mightless]

do you have any designs or sketches of penelope in your devine au:?

To be honest, when you asked, I didn't have any, because I was drawing impromptu and made up a lot of things on the fly— But I thought about it a bit, drew, and now I have a whole reference list for Penelope from my AU! Thank you, kind man, your question made me think thoughts!!

[cloudysunflowr]

The Deity of the Ocean

The deity of the ocean, liquids, rainbows, sea creatures, and eyes. He did not really have interactions with humans until meeting Aiden.

He’s very curious about mortals and their life, loves to learn and explore.

Wallys hair changes to any water he’s in, swamp hair, river water, so on! He can’t go on land in his deity form or he’ll flood the land. His hair is a constant water source.

Like any other deity he can be as big as the ocean or as small as a droplet. In his mortal form, he is og Wallys height with long hair that needs to be cut every once in a while.

In deity form, I like to draw him with at least 9 fish as a nod to the neighbors ^^ The eye next to his actual eye moves! He can look around with it! So his eyes are never really closed 👁👁. He does not become enraged often. For the most part, he’s rather relaxed.

He calls upon you with a sirens call or the sound of the ocean beckoning your name or the ocean wind.

His favorite things are apples (of course), wooden statues, handmade items overall really, and coral

[kefi-catfish]

Soulslike AU

Once upon a time, Wukong looked up to the sky with eyes full of light and aspirations. His soul sang with dreams and desire to touch the heavens. To become part of the Celestial Order, one of the many stars illuminating the mortal world - the brightest, the biggest, outshining all the others.

Not just for himself, at first. For his subjects, his lands, his moon that kept him warm on cold nights. But it was hardly magnanimity that was at the top of everything. Behind the desire to give to others sprouted just as much a desire to take, to appropriate only for himself.

In canon, Wukong is humbled and shown the right path where cruelty has no place. In this AU, Heaven fails to catch the skittish monkey. In his greed, the Sage ceases to see boundaries. There is not a single living being who can stop a wild animal who thinks he is a god. There are no rules. Only greed.

With unlimited power, Wukong continued to climb forward. Further, higher. Why stop there? Why worry about the pitiful lives crunching beneath his claws and teeth? Ahead, at the very top, lies the forbidden poisonous fruit. The deities and other celestial creatures meet the blood-intoxicated monkey in all arms. Even with sweat dripping down their necks and weapons in their trembling hands.

The Celestial Realm loses with a cacophony of alien screams and falling debris from buildings.

Many years pass before one wanderer meets one child in a devastated world.

Wukong hardly had a plan, but his treacherous actions were clearly sequential. Heaven fell first, then the bloody gaze traveled lower. Dragons were a race that had been despised by the Sage long ago. Only the most skittish and the most unsightly survived, hiding their brightly colored skins at the bottom of the seas and oceans. One of the first places Wukong decided to visit with his bloody march was the palace where the staff was located, whose iron he was using to take lives.

Ao Guang was the one who decided to fight back against the madness that enveloped the King's mind. He fought desperately, with the realization that he could not win the battle. This gave enough time for those who also realized their own and the world's hopelessness to escape.

Nailing the dragon's body with his staff, Wukong kept the old man awake long enough to show him what happens to those who go against the Great Sage. Mei, being the youngest and most confident at her misfortune was a gift of fate to Wukong. With her help - Wukong could give a perfect lesson to the surviving worms that called themselves dragons about the foolishness of the idea of fighting back. Having shackled the girl, he left her at the very shore, with no way to get back out to sea. The bayonets-strong ribbons glinting in the sunlight from every attempt to break free of the shackles-clenched the bulky body with scorching pain. She remained there, still struggling to break free, unable to see the light of the sun that had long ago hidden the stench of death Wukong had brought.

And Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.

He wears a Macaque scarf and a cape made of Azure Lion skin.

(if you find any errors in the text, I apologize in advance. English is not my first language)

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔨𝔲𝔫𝔢𝔬

Summary: Because of a past refusal, the god who once fostered and protected your village has cursed the land and left it in constant darkness and bloodshed. But years after the island's condemnation he visits the priestess in her dreams, claiming that he is once again willing to take a sacrifice in exchange for the people's salvation.

You are left to grapple with your reality when that sacrifice is announced to be you.

Notes: 26k words, so . . . grab a snack? Also, this has not been proofread yet so sorry for any errors and misspellings. Banner is credited @saradika

Warnings: MDI - 18+ content! AFAB, Sacrifice AU, violence, horror elements, the reader is drugged physically for ritual purposes but it doesn't affect her in the Dreaming? illusions to death, an animal is harmed but does not die, a small teaspoon of stalker Dream (sorta), hints of possessive Dream but he's also soft. Oral (F!receiving), he's a switch, a bit of soft dom Morpheus I suppose, sex outside but there is no voyeurism involved, unprotected sex.

The memories of your mother are vague at best. Like gazing up at someone while being submerged under water. But what you could remember, quite vividly at that is the wild fables and stories of gods and heroes that she would tell you, sending you off to sleep with images of great serpents slicing through the waves of the seas or the behemoth hound snapping at the tormented souls of the underworld with its many heads. And she taught you of the nymphs of the ocean and the wood, and the great gods that cloak the skies with heavy storm clouds and bind the souls of lovers together. 

But perhaps one of the most important to your isolated village, the one who was vital to the people's survival was the deity Morpheus. Dream of the Endless, the King of Dreams and Ruler of Nightmares. The heavenly benefactor that assured you all prosperity and wealth. He was benevolent and caring, and to commemorate the god, murals were created in his image. Some portrayed him as both beast and man. With the lithe physique of a human, the textured, taloned feet of a bird and great wings pridefully expanding from his back, stretching high in a reaching arch and a head that you could not discern if it was intended to mimic a bird or insect. The protrusion from his face reminded you of the proboscis of a mosquito but it was jointed and colored like ivory like a bleached spine. 

But on occasion the paintings depict the god as a striking statuesque man, clutching a group of blood red blossoms in one hand and fragments of pale sand poured through the fingers of an opposing upturned palm. And he seems to have his wings in this form also. And they are always with feathers the color of the night sky. 

Your mother had told you that he was a kind ruler. But even kindness is not without its conditions. 

The people had spoken of an offering that must be made to the Endless to appease him, an exchange for his watchful eye and shelter. A sacrifice must be given. A human one. The thought had terrified you as a child. But the villagers - even your own parents seemed to accept the requirement without any qualms. No complaints were made from the people. It was taken as a fact of life. The same as how the sun rises in the east or how fire burns when touched. No one fought when the shrine guards came in the morning. When the dawn was but a smudge of lavender in the horizon, knocking on doors and collecting any woman who was of age regardless of it they were already wives with families and duties. 

Not even your father or mother had protested when they came to take her away to the temple. And you had latched yourself onto her hips, refusing to let go even when she assured you that this was a good thing. That it was a great compliment to be even considered for the choosing. And that if she was selected as the offering - to join the Dark God that it would bring honor not just to the village but to your house as well. But you had refused to listen, shaking your head while your tears dampened the fabric that covered her body. The hierodules had to tear you from her hips, and your father had to secure you in his arms as she left with the guards to the join the other women who had been collected from their homes. 

The next passing days for you had been melancholic and distressing to say the least but the village was a kaleidoscope of colors and festivities. And despite the joy that thrummed across the air, the world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting the day for the Choosing when the head Priestess would reveal the offered woman that Endless had deemed worthy enough to be his sacrifice. 

The ceremony had been held near dusk and a heavy quiet had fallen over the collective as you all look up to the priestess, desperate to hear which womans name she would utter. The anticipation was stifling as you all awaited who would become his bride, and your fingernails had dug into your father's hand so harshly that it must have stung, but he did not flinch or jerk away once, far too enamored with the event. And when the sister had revealed the Chosen the crowd had cheered and some gasped, but you had cried. Cried with relief and joy. 

But on that day the Priestess decided to deny the dark god of his sacrifice and that decision would mark the fall and despair of your village for years to come. 

And now you stand where your mother once did. But instead of the cover of a gentle twilight, the unforgiving heat of the sun wafts over you, engulfing you in a sweltering heat and pounds down on the crown of your skull. Voices clamor from down below, the frenzied cries of desperate people, and it has the women standing at your sides shivering like startled doe's. You could not blame them in the slightest. You too wanted to quiver and sob to expel your fear, but you could not bear to show any vulnerabilities. Not to the hungry crowd, too terrified in their own right to empathize with your distress.  

The ritual is only in a few days' time and the atmosphere that looms across the village with a heavy sort of anticipation is a conflicted sort of energy. There was an obvious air of excitement, prickling at your skin and nearly leaving you breathless but there was also the underlying thrum of . . . fear. It pained you to look out to the masses and see their jostling bodies, waiting with bated breath to hear the name of the Endless' intended. To hear if he would finally accept a sacrifice again after so many years of anguish and terror. 

They had decorated the thresholds of houses, and the columns of buildings with rich tapestries and fine wreaths just as had been done in the past. The people- your people frolic about in special fabrics- deep reds and blues to herald the Endless. Gorging themselves on the five-day long feast: the meat of boar and quail and an abundance of fruits. The flow of wine and spirits did not stop. It had only progressed if the slurred shouting and rumbunctious laughter that had reached you from behind the thick walls of the commune was any indication. Celebrating their lives. Celebrating your death. 

Despite your circumstances you had been nothing but pampered since your forced participation. Fed only the finest meals and bathed in expensive oils and perfumes.  You have been chosen by an ancient; a harsh voice hissed cruelly from the depths of your mind. The voice of the old sister. The woman who had sealed your awful fate. The one who claimed that the mind walker -the dark god himself had come to her in a dream and had spoken to her she had reiterated animatedly, sharp piercing eyes nearly rolling back in her skull from her mania. Her body had quivered from her passion and the other women that had been selected and forced into a reluctant row had nearly flinched back at the intensity of it. You all clung to each other, hands gripping the other for support. Something to tether yourselves to the ground. All of the eligible women had been wrangled up, torn from the arms of their families. Even women with husbands and children were taken away, no one was spared in the wishes of finally appeasing the god. 

You had scanned the clamoring crowd in the hopes of finding someone who would be willing to help. Someone who would disagree. Perhaps a stranger would show pity or sympathy, but you found no one. They were all hanging on to the demented rambling of the old priestess. Their silence was palatable. The crazed joyous eyes of people with hope. Hope of reprieve from the decade long curse that had tainted the village. And unfortunately, one of the maidens- one of you that stood in that horrid line was the answer to their prayers. And when you found no sympathy, you looked past the commotion and the roofs of houses to the sea in the distance and imagined yourself taking to the dark waves and escaping under the tide and froth. Emerging somewhere new and wonderful. 

Of course, there would be no freedom for you. Not when her horrid eyes strayed from the desperate crowd and pinned you in your place the air had been expelled from your lungs with a harsh gravity. The realization of your fate. 

And then as if to perpetuate her point further, to drive the knife in deeper and twist, she lifted her crooked finger up in the air and pointed. Right at you. And the other girls that were clinging to your body for support and comfort had jerked from you as if you were dirty and blemished, sobbing with cries of relief while they fled in search of their mothers and fathers in the crowd. But some of them had sank to the dust and clasped their hands together as if in prayer, kneeling at your feet like you were sanctified. 

"The Endless has found his Chosen." She crooned and the people had roared in a victorious cry.  

They took you kicking and screaming, ignoring your cries of protest while they carried you off to the Sisters commune to prepare you and the townspeople looked on, watching you feverously with a horrid sort of enthusiasm. Relief you recognized. 

You had been forced into decadent silks and decorated with jewelry that at one time you would have dreamed of wearing, but they might as well as have been hot iron with the way that they felt against your skin. Restricting, disgusting. 

They paraded you around for days, making you the pinnacle of the festival while you watched them all sink into their basest desires, influenced from alcohol and the intoxication of relief. You tried not to blame them. To see past your pain and hurt and summon some forgiveness. After all, they were only afraid. The same as you had been, the same as you are now. Fearful of the Night King and his spirits. The horrible kakodaimon hoard that serve at his command and wreak havoc should their emperor be denied of his sacrifice. Some are little more than mischievous deities, entertaining themselves with otherwise harmless pranks: Stealing shoes and tying the hair of women into knots while they sleep unaware. The stuff of tales and bedtime stories. But he has other creatures. Monstrous, evil things that steal infants from their cribs and drain bodies of their lifeblood and chew bone. 

The same horrid beings that have been tormenting the village for a decade now, arriving in the night to snatch up any poor soul who had been foolish enough to be caught outside during the dark. Many have died during the years since he's unleashed his army of terrors upon the village. The dark creatures snatching them up in their gnarled claws, as lethal as a sharpened daggers and carrying them off with the swift whisper of wings. All because he was refused. 

And now finally you sit underneath the stars again, after being forced behind barricaded doors and huddling underneath the table and hoping that the creatures wouldn't break through the door and tear themselves inside with gnashing teeth to feast upon your flesh. Clinging to the hope that you would survive until daybreak when the blessed sun would rise from the horizon and banish them away. If only for a little while. 

For the first time since you were a child you may embrace the dark and breath in the warm night air, feeling it sooth your lungs like a balm. You're as full of wonder as you are paranoia. Waiting for one of the nightmares to leap out of the shadows and steal you away. But even the weight of the silver and diamonds adorning your body and the deafening laughter of the feast couldn't tear your eyes away from the black expanse that loomed above. Stretching out like a horrible, beautiful black void that threatened to eat you alive. And you nearly felt crushed with how small - insignificant it made you feel. The unforgiving stretch of the cosmos looming above seemed to force your own mortality upon you with a harsh sort of grace. And it angered you that the dark god had stripped this sight from you for so many years. He had taken so much from you all and now they all once again chant his name as though he was a savior and not the reason for their strife and agony. Celebrating his image like he was a humble god that had not punished them and their children with beasts and terrible dreams. All because he was not given a woman who had been promised to him. 

You had never felt so bare in your life, having been forced on the plush velvet cushions of a palanquin to be carried around on the shoulders of the temple guards and displayed around the village. There was no shelter from the prying eyes of the townspeople who had watched you with the same sort of desperate hunger as a pack of starved dogs, shameless and pitiful. They had been pelting you with the vibrant blossoms of violets and dark seeds, and the abundance had begun to collect atop the cushions, and you had been tempted to sweep the offerings off the side of the vehicle but as if sensing your intentions one of the priestesses had swiftly swiveled her head to glare at you from her place beneath you. You had been tempted to defy her regardless, to hold eye contact with her as you did so, but despite your petty desire you held yourself back. 

They did eventually lower you from their shoulders and back down onto the earth, and a few women had emerged from the boisterous crowd -servants perhaps - to hand you food and drink. You had not wanted to accept it, too prideful to take what they had given you and make them believe that they had managed to placate you with a meal and wine, but eventually your stomach had won and you hesitantly abandoned your dignity. It had been too long since you had last had a decent meal, having survived off of measly scraps for too long. You had gorged yourself on the figs and fish and honey cakes, chasing it with the rich wine when you had become parched and soon your head had become light with the influence of the fermented liquid, and it allowed you to ignore the cajoling throng of people and the sisters' that observed you. 

The priestesses surrounded you like a group of statues, pillars of death. Silent and watching. Guarding. They observe when the villagers approach you, eyes glinting hauntingly like they're waiting for one of the people to lash out and attack you.  You hoped someone would and finally put you out of your misery. But instead, they all crouched down low at your feet, whispering their gratitude like you had asked for this purpose and placed bundles of red flowers on the earth to surround the palanquin. Even a child had approached you, thanking you for the salvation you offered. It had nearly broken you and tears had threatened to spill down your face. It almost disgusted you to look at them. Soft, delicate blossoms that were a harsh scarlet. Red like blood. Poppies you had realized. The flower associated with the Endless. It made you nauseous to be surrounded by his symbol. And suddenly they were not so pretty anymore and there were too many. Overflowing at your feet and pilling up so high that it felt like the people were trying to build a wall around you.  

"Why must I do this?" You gasp, feeling as though you were being crushed. The sister to your right is the one who speaks but she does not turn to look at you, instead focusing on the roaring pyre that the villagers dance around under the guide of the drums and flute. "Because it is your purpose." The answer is cold and matter of fact, sparing you no sympathy. It is a sentence that you have heard uttered one too many times in the passing days, almost as though they believed you would come to accept your circumstances if you heard it enough. You just could not understand why they would be so easily swayed to accept the god who had turned his backs on them so long ago. Abandoned them and tormented them because of his own hubris. Scorned because the head priestess before had not given him her own daughter. 

He had plagued your village for too long. Ravaging men and women and children with horrid dreams and dying crop. Except for now. Ever since the choosing ceremony, when you had been selected the gardens had blossomed seemingly overnight, overgrown with a prosperous harvest and the hunt had been successful after many moons of coming up with little more than measly rabbits. 

They would always return to his dark embrace after the horrors that you have all been forced to endure. It did not matter if he demanded one maiden or a thousand, they would spare as many women that he demanded. Even if it meant finding shelter under the punishing hand that caused all of their pain. 

But it still does not explain why he had accepted a sacrifice after so many years of silence and refusal. After turning his nose up at every attempt to reconcile and give an offering he makes his presence known now. But what had changed? Why you? Surely the god that presides over dreams and walks amongst the subconscious must know that you are no longer a chaste woman. A tainted old maid is what they would whisper about you. There was no sense to any of this. 

"But why me?" And the fragile strings of jewelry draped around your neck clink against each other, but it is an annoying sound that has your nails digging into the rich tapestried cushions. It is the one to your left that speaks now. Her voice is deceptively soft, bubbling like a gentle stream. "We do not question the Endless. " She responds. And although her voice is much more welcoming than her sister's her words are just as indifferent. " You will be our salvation. Our forgiveness. You will save us. " 

Any bit of protest had died in your throat before you could get them out. You focused on the festivities instead, watching the people chant and sing old songs. And dancers leapt around the fire, dressed in furs and leather and colorful fabrics to mimic figures from folklore and the very monsters that had massacred your village for years. Wearing masks fashioned from old hides and animal pelts, brandishing the horns taken from cattle and deer. They playfully leapt at the crowd that encircled the fire as though they were going to swipe. And some had constructed costumes to imitate the dark plumage of the raven, one of his coveted animals. 

This was twisted. A mockery of suffering and pain. Pissing on the memory of the people who had fallen victim to the dream god and his nightmares. 

How could they all forget so easily? 

You could feel the sting of anger simmering within your chest, prickling at your fingertips. It made it difficult to breath around the weight of it all. You continue to watch them all despite the rage and sorrow that it induces. The horrible way they galivant around and clap and cheer. It's disgusting and awful. Even the children. The poor children participate, lunging at the false monsters with wooden swords and some are dressed as the dark creatures themselves.  

To get some sort of reprieve you looked to the night sky, staring up at the full moon as though its goddess would hear your silent plea and save you from your fate. Whisking you from this starving mob and your doomed fate to her hidden island to frolic with the nymphs free from your crude duty.  But the glowing deity did not appear, and you were left to stare at the lonely dark void of the night while the stars winked and fluttered as though their light might dim and die. It was foolish to believe that the goddess of virtue would appear for a woman like you. 

But then you could feel it. A magnetic pull that tilted your head from its upturned position, and your eyes lower onto something gleaming with a pale light. Two shimmering pieces, shinning much like the moon hanging above.  It is a pair of eyes you come to quickly discern. Reflecting the bright glow of the pyre in a way that is decidedly not human. Those are the eyes of a beast: An owls may do that, or a wolf's or a cat. Not a human. But the face that they belong to is very much a man's. 

It is difficult to make out the features of his face past the way that the heat of the open flames warp the surrounding atmosphere and the smoke twists and coils into the open air like deadly serpents. But you can comprehend the sharp jut of high cheek bones and pale milky skin almost as though he was cut from a fine marble. His expression is not a joyous one or celebratory like the other villagers, instead it is stoic and serious. The intensity of his glare has you pinned in place. It is you; you realize. He's staring at you. 

The world suddenly feels weightless, like you're suspended in a vacuum. You had heard a story from an old hunter once. One who had miraculously survived a lightning strike and he had been shunned by many of the others for his scars. After all he must have done something to warrant the strike. He must have scorned the Lord of the Sky himself. But you had spoken to him regardless and he had told you that he had felt it before it had hit him, even though it was only for but a second. His hair had stood on end and his skin had tingled strangely before his body was flooded with a numbing white-hot heat. And you could feel that sensation prickling over you now, like the whisper of a thousand fingertips brushing you all over. It made you shiver, and you adjusted yourself in your seat in an attempt to banish the feeling, but it never faded. If anything, the steady pulses persisted and seemed to thrum with even more intensity nearly making you gasp aloud. You wanted to look away from the strange man, but you could not seem to will yourself to turn your gaze from him, and some strange part of you did not want to. He was gorgeous in a haunting sort of way, but you could not figure out why. There was an unearthly quality to his countenance, like he was he was not a man but wearing the face of one. 

It was then you noticed the color of his robes. Black. But that was not right. No one else was allowed to sport the Endless' color, no one else apart from the head priestess was allowed to wear his color, as a way to display her connection and loyalty. It was considered an extreme offence for any other person to bear a cloth in his shade. A punishable offence that would often result in public ridicule and the removal of the criminal's dominant hand. Some have even claimed that the accused may be haunted from night terrors for the crime until the passing of their natural human life. So who would be bold enough to flaunt around in public in such dark robes? 

He must be a foolish man. Or at least an arrogant one. And as though he could hear your thoughts the corner of his mouth quirks in just the faintest hint of a smile. So delicate that it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. But you could see it in his otherworldly eyes too. It looked as though that it did not suit him, but he also wore the expression beautifully. It was an odd juxtaposition, and you did not know what to make of it. He looks like no one you had never seen before but is also painfully familiar, like an old memory. 

Oddly enough no one else seems to notice his presence at all. A phenomenon that could be blamed on the alcohol and high spirits but what couldn't be wrote away by reason was the way that a drunk seemed to stumble through the strange man, causing him to vanish like a plume of smoke and the pale shimmer of his eyes was the last to fade, piercing some buried part of you before disappearing entirely and with it something clicks into place. 

The sensation that had spilled over you leaves with him, releasing you from its hold and allowing you take a deep breath that you had not known you needed. That awful wonderful stare. . . Could that have truly been the nightmare masquerading as a man? They have been known to do such a thing before. Using the guises of people and loved ones to lure vulnerable victims out for slaughter. Then another thought trickles down to the forefront and it has a cold shiver skipping down the notches of your spine. What if it had been the nightmare king himself? Come to see you, his intended bride? 

Surely you were hallucinating. It has never been mentioned before that the deity has ever made appearances before the ritual. None of the other past offerings have spoken of it. If it has happened, then none have ever cared to mention it. 

It had a troubled sinking feeling plummeting in your gut and it stayed with you throughout the night until the priestesses had collected you from your place and ushered you back to your temporary quarters where the servants prepared you for sleep. Insisting that you bathe, pouring luxuries oils into the steaming water and combing your hair before bed. They fret about like ghost. Silent and always moving so they are often little more than glimpses in your peripheral vision. They hardly speak. Only enough to offer commands that are loosely guised as suggestions or to whisper softly amongst themselves. 

They do not like you; you could easily tell. If the unabashed away that they gossip quietly while in your presence is any indication. But one of the women in particular does nothing to hide her distaste. Watching you with scorn in her eyes and a scowl on her lips. Neither of you had made any efforts to verbally communicate your hatred for the other, instead opting to passive aggressively telegraph the fact with petty gestures. Such as when she had decided to harshly pick through your hair while preparing you for the first feast. Clawing at your scalp with the teeth of the comb harshly enough to sting and throb for the entire night. The apology that she had given you was pathetically fake, contempt framed around a smile and feigned concern. She did not do it again when you had accidentally spilt hot tea across her hip when she was selecting your jewelry. 

But even now you could feel the heat of her glare against the crown of your skull and the grip that she had on your hair was harsher than necessary, but you simply did not have the energy to reprimand the action. Not after being paraded around the feast all night like a prized brood mare, sluggish under the weight of silks and pearls that decorated you. 

You feel her leaning over your shoulder before she speaks, the heat of her body irritates your skin and you find yourself tensing and trying to lean from her presence, but she is gripping your hair in a tight grip that keeps you from shifting. "You do not deserve to be touched by a god." She hisses, venom tainting her words. 

"Clearly you do not either," you snap just as harshly, gripping the sides of the basin so that you do not twist out of her hold and lash out. The other maids do not so much as glance over at the altercation, simply going on about their duties as though the both of you do not exist. "Or else you would be the one bathing in oils and dining on fruits and wine. " The hold on the back of your scalp goes slack somewhat, allowing you enough leeway to peer over your shoulder and meet the heated gray of her eyes. "How does it feel to know that your god has no desire for you?" 

She does not respond even though you can tell that she is actively biting her tongue to hold down her barbed words. It irritated you. The way they all acted as though they truly loved him. It was not affection they felt, but fear. You loathed the lying and the pretending all in the sake of appeasing the horrid god, and yet you could not find the courage to voice your opinions. It was a fruitless endeavor you knew to try and speak to these people. As tortured and hopeless as they were. And as much as you wanted to ridicule them their actions were not unfounded. You had seen firsthand what the Endless was capable of when he was denied of promises. You had watched you own mother be dragged away by venomous claws and terrible simpering fangs. There was no room for argument. At least not a sensical one. 

And so, you had remined silent for the remainder of your bath and until the servants had retired for the night, settling underneath the soft linens, but you were unable to relax. Not when you could still feel that man's eyes searing into your skin. Not from the fear of falling danger to the night terrors and horrible dreams, even though you have been quite fortunate, having not experience a single nightmare in quite some time. But that dark figures presence felt like a bad omen. An awful warning for the things to come. What if he sends his demons to come and haunt you and drag you away in the dark? What if he means to punish you? You wrack your brain to try and remember if you could have ever possibly scorned the dark god but come up empty. Granted you have never particularly harbored pleasant feelings towards the deity but not a single soul in the village has since the day that he chose to curse it, tainting it with beasts and painful dreams. Sometimes tormenting the people with dreams so intense and horrid that some have passed away in their sleep, suffering from weak hearts or fragile lungs. Other have been driven mad from the vividness and the persistence of the nightmares to the point that they have lost all sense of self and reality, some noy just taking their own lives but even the lives of others in the midst their distress and agony.

He was a dreadful god whose love was built with conditions and lies. Boasting the promise of prosperity and protection but the only thing you need protection from is him. 

An airy coo breaks you from your troubling thoughts, drawing your attention to the corner of the room where a familiar black shape trots out of the shadows, almost as though he had materialized from them. 

"What are you doing here you silly thing?" You could not hold in the short disbelieving laugh that escapes you in a huff, affection growing within your chest. You are not even sure how he could have possibly gotten inside the Sisters' commune and found your quarters, especially considering that the trek from your cottage to the village was a decent walk. He must have found an open window or slipped inside when no one was looking. You would not put the feat past him, he always seemed to be skulking about. 

You prop yourself up on your elbow to welcome the cat as he leaps onto your mattress, leaning into your hand with the tilt of his head. And you are thankful for the familiarity and the calm that washes over you at the feel of his long fur against your palm. It is a great comfort to have your companion back with again after being away from home for so long. But when your affection became too much, he slipped out from underneath your hold and retreated to the foot of your bed with a petulant flick of his tail, deciding to watch you with the piercing blue of his eyes instead. 

"Oh, my dearest apologies, " you jest, pulling your blanket up higher around your shoulder and try not to take it personally as he moves from you. "I did not mean to offend you." 

He blinks slowly, a very simple gesture but it always felt like it was done with an air of judgement. But then again, the animal always seemed to carry himself an imperious sort of way, even though he is but a cat, he manages to be rather expressive when he wants to be. 

"Have you been taking care of yourself?" You ask as though you would get an answer. You hate the thought of him being out so late with the possibility of those dreadful creatures roaming the ground and skies, ready to snatch and gouge with deadly claws. You know that he could fend for himself. He is a feral cat at best, coming and going as he pleases. Often vanishing for concerning periods of time before reappearing at your doorstep as though he had never left at all. But not even the beasts - the regular forest dwelling kind or the godly ones are the only threats that roam the dark. People could be just as awful. You honestly do not how he has managed to survive as long as he has with all the dangers lurking about. It was the same thing that you had wondered about on the first day that you saw him wandering around the tall grass that surrounded your home while you were out tending to your stubborn garden. But the second thought and the most startling was the realization that you were even looking at a cat at all. There had not been a single feline spotted on the village since the morning after the failed ritual all those years ago. All of the cats had but vanished from the island without a trace. Gone as though they had not been here at all, like they had all piled onto a boat and paddled to the mainland or a giant hand had descended from the sky and plucked them from their homes and alleyways. But now there was one there, slinking through the tall grass, a whisp of black against the dead golden reeds. 

It had you pausing from your task of searching for an unblemished vegetable that had not been tainted by worm bites or disease (which was proving to be a pointless endeavor) to watch the cat on its little journey. But despite your awe you had noticed the lethargy that seemed to slow its movements considerably. The usual feline grace that the animals typically carry themselves with was replaced by sluggish and jerky movements. The cat was all but stumbling between the tall stalks of grass. And in your worried study of the animal, you noticed a series of angry red slivers peeking through the thickness of his fur along its side. Four angry red wounds that would have been difficult for a human to endure, but for a cat you could not imagine the tole it was taking on its body to remain conscious. Especially through the pain no doubt. 

It had been entirely upon reflex to jerk up from your place on the ground, concern overshadowing your tact and making you forget that it may be a feral and undomesticated creature. And your worry did not prove to be unfounded when the cats head swung over in your direction, freezing in its walk to assess you. The both of you held a long exchange of stares and you had wondered if you should try to approach it, but then it had bolted. Lurching forward on wobbly feet and your heart had jumped in your throat, entirely frightened that he would flee to the cover of the forest and succumb to his wounds. But the cat had only made it a few paces before it was crumbling to the dirt and collapses on its side. 

You had barged through the gate of your garden leaving it to creak on its hinges while you approached the cat's body, hoping that he had not given into the trauma of the lacerations. But a glance over with your eyes confirmed that it was thankfully still breathing. You had whispered your apologies when you had noticed that he was watching you as well with a tired glassy stare, scooping him up as gently as you could and carrying him into your house to provide as much care as you could. 

The cat's body was already making efforts to build scabbing, the thick red having coagulated along the edges of its wounds. But the blood was still flowing too much for your liking, staining the linens that you had folded near the hearth for the animal to rest on. You were going to have to sew. Unfortunately, due to the infertility of the soil and the bad luck with yielding a healthy garden you had little herbs or flowers for medicine. And truthfully you did not know much of cats and which plants and medicines that should be avoided or would help him recover from his ailments, but with no one to confide in you did your best. Making sure to cleanse the slashes with fresh water before you began to stitch. Having no choice but to settle for the needle and thread that you used to make repairs on your clothing. 

"I'm afraid you aren't going to like me much after this, but I don't think we have much of a choice. " You had said, as you knelt down on the floor of your kitchen, settling in front of the animal with your thread in one hand and the needle in the other. It had peered at you from the corners of its eyes, too weak to move its head, but you had seen something flashed in its weary gaze that seemed a lot like irritation. 

You had tried to be as nimble and delicate as possible, doing to your best to focus past your anxiety to steady the mild quiver of your fingers, especially when they had become slick with blood. You tried to softly sooth the cat as gently as you could muster whenever he would jerk from pain. And thankfully you were finished before you realized, and you wrapped a strip of clean cloth around his middle to keep it clean from dirt and possible infection. 

He had laid there for several days, only moving when you had to change his dressings. And in the beginning, he had hardly eaten or drank, and you had feared for the worst. That despite your best-efforts illness had gotten ahold of him and stripped him of his appetite. But on the second day of you trying to persuade him to at least drink it seemed he had grown tired of you tapping your fingertips along the edge of the bowl or the way that you would defeatedly try to spoon-feed him water from the divot of a spoon and had lapped at the water from the edge of his linens before looking up you with a pointed glare. It took even longer to get him to eat, sharing with him pieces of rabbit that you had managed to trap. 

And since his presence in your home the beasts outside had been more active than usual, as though they could smell the blood of his wounds and had taken to clawing at your door. And on some nights, you could hear the muffled thump of footsteps skulking along your roof. They had never been so eager before. So persistent. Typically, the thing that mimics was the only one that stayed so close to your home, often screaming throughout the night like an animal. It even cried like a distressed woman or an anguished child. Sometimes it's true voice slips through the glamour.  The sound of thousands speaking in unison, of men, women and children. Stolen souls forced to speak through the maw that devoured them whole.

As terrible as it sounds a part of you has grown used to its presence. It had become routine almost, hearing the awful imitations pouring from its mouth from behind your front door. And you have spent many a night underneath the latch that you had made in the floor of your house, sleeping in burrow dug underneath the wooden planks with a dagger clutched to your chest. But when you had the cat in your home the activity seemed to increase, and you had spent every night spent underneath your floor with the cat delicately placed in the corner on his own bundle of blankets where he would lay without moving, too weak to shift or turn.

And they had returned the next night too with the number greater than the last, stalking around the perimeter of your house. Hissing and chortling in the night like a pack of demonic rabid wolves. It had been most cruel when a familiar voice had spoken from the other side of the front door, too distorted and inhuman to truly be your loved one, but similar enough to taunt you. A mockery of your father's voice begging you to let him inside. And even within your room underneath the floorboards you could still hear it. It talked for hours and spoke as both your mother and father until tears were prickling at your lash line and threatened to fall, and you had done what you could to distract yourself. Staring at the floor above you, finding shapes and faces in the patterns and shifting shades of the wood. 

It was the first time that the cat had even attempted to seek out any sort of contact. Weakly perking up from his corner and settling on the length of your legs from above your blanket and he had stared up at the floorboards above you with a startling air of intent. The voices crooned out and the rasp of talons scratched along the walls of your house. Then mercifully the voices had stopped. Seemingly all at once a peaceful hush had fallen over the atmosphere and you finally felt as though you could breathe again. The monsters had not returned that night. Or on any other night. It was as though they had vanished entirely which you knew could not be true because you could still find evidence of their existence in the forest while you hunted or washed your linens in the nearby stream. 

His health had steadily risen over the next few days. The wounds on his side had healed up nicely and he had quickly grown more restless. And he had taken to occupying himself by investigating you home and snooping around the rooms until one day he had slipped out from the front door when you were not paying attention and vanished into the tall grass. You did not heal him with the intent to keep him. A part of you assuming that he may have had a family eagerly awaiting his arrival somewhere on the island, but you could not lie to yourself that it had been nice to have company even if it was just a cat. 

You had not seen him for several weeks after that and a part of you had feared that he may have fallen to one of the beasts in the wood. And the more optimistic side of you had hoped and imagined that he had found his family. Life had returned to its monotony without him at your side and you were once again alone while attending your chores. But there had been some promise, such as the abrupt but not unwelcomed revival of your garden, which had now begun to sprout bits of life again. You had been shocked when you had seen a green hue returning to the withered remains of the mint and thyme and beginnings of a humble pods growing along your fig tree, promising the growth of fruit. And then one day he surprised you with his return, trotting from the golden meadow while you were beating a rug of the dust and grime that it had been collecting and you had smiled and greeted him like an old friend. And he would begin accompanying you as you went about your chores, always sticking by you closely and observing, even if you ventured all the way around the other side of the island to hunt for oysters and scallops, though the harvest you returned with was always slim. 

And you tried your best to name the creature, but he would not accept any of them. Not Akakikos or Thales or Arye. They were all promptly ignored when you had even tried to address him as such, and you were met with looks that could only be described as unimpressed. Of course, you could not find it in yourself to blame him. You did agree that none of them seemed to suit him all that much. But you could not call him nothing and so you had aptly christened him as 'Cat' which had been even less enthusiastically received as the others. But he would follow you everywhere despite the displeased looks that he would give you every time you addressed him as so, accompanying you when you washed your laundry in the nearby stream, and when you visit your parents' empty graves (you had never found their bodies) to tell them of your day. But he had especially surprised you whenever he would trot alongside you on your strolls down the shoreline of the ocean. It had shocked you to say the least, when Cat had wadded in the gentle waves after you, unaffected by the way that the water lapped at his paws.

A strange cat indeed. 

It struck you suddenly, the realization that you would never see your home again. As empty and cold as it could be. Forced to live on the outskirts as a pariah, assuming that you would fall to your death underneath the claws of a nightmare. Many had perished living so close to the wood, and they surely had no intention of you surviving the forest on your lonesome.  But you did and you made your vacant house your own, even with the bad blood-stained memories haunting the walls. You accepted your life alone rather early on and have even learned to love it in all of its solitude and freedoms. But they have once again bent you to their wills, selling you off like a lamb for slaughter to appease a selfish god. 

You cannot fight of the stinging lump that has risen and lodged itself in your throat. Not this time. And it burns and pushed up tears that spill down your cheeks and stain the bedding. You could not stop yourself from mourning everything. The loss of your life, the waning humanity of the townspeople, the bloody deaths of your loved ones. You tried to clamp your teeth shut to conceal your sobbing, worried that the guards posted outside of the door may hear you. And even more crippling was the sudden painful awareness that tomorrow was the night of the ritual. You had been ignoring the date, too distressed to acknowledge it. But it was coming. It was coming at there is nothing that you can do to stop it. 

There is the brush of something soft against your face, and it is not until your opening your eyes that you realize that you had even squeezed them shut. You look past the blur of your tears to see register two vivid blue irises watching you. 

Your heart ached at the sight. Torn between a flicker of affection and your unignorable grief. But you smiled regardless of your tears and stroked his chin with your fingertips. It always surprises you when he chooses to crouch down against your chest, snuggling into your body. He was not always one to seek out affection, often preferring to lie somewhere near by while watching you finish up your routine chores and tasks. His favorite spot was the window seal of your kitchen where he would perch and observe you while you would knead dough or slice the vegetables for stews. But whenever your sleep was fitful, and you would wake with a layer of cold sweat dampening your clammy skin and the anguished cries of your parents still echoing in your ears he would scurry into your bedroom if he was not already there and curl up with you as he is now until you were able to fall sleep once again. 

It troubled you to think of how he would fair for himself in your absence. You had been taking care of him for many moons now and you could only hope that in your effort to keep him from starvation that he had not grown to become too dependent of you. You could not bear the thought, that in your attempt to help and offer companionship that you had unwittingly ushered him closer to death. Would he go back to being alone after the Priestesses had sent your soul off to the nightmare god and all, but your lifeless body remained? 

Would he once again wonder aimlessly with no one to care for him? 

You could only hope that he would find someone else. 

"I'm sorry." You whispered into his soft fur and clutched him closer to you and you remained that way until your grip of time had slipped and the only thing that told you that it was still the same night was the darkness that encompassed the room, most of the candles having long since burnt out of their wicks apart from one that was little more than a pinprick of light. Even with the pull of sleep turning your limps into heavy, useless extensions and the weariness burning at your drooping eyes you could not allow yourself to fall unconscious. You were desperate to keep as much time between yourself at the ritual as possible, even though it was a fool's errand of course, as the moon was still drifting along its path in the sky and the sun was still on its way to rise over the horizon. Tomorrow would come regardless of your distress and fate. Time was cruel and it stopped for no one. But still you could not let yourself sleep even with Cat embraced in your arms, and his body thrummed with a rare bout of purring. . . It was loud. Oddly so and you opened your eyes that you were not aware that you had even shut. And when you looked down, Cat was absent from his place against your chest even though he had just been there a second ago. 

Worry broke through the exhaustion that sapped your bones and you were up in an instant, sitting up in the bed with the linens pooling around your waist while your gaze roves around the room and it does not pause until it finds a familiar shape in the darkness, watching you from a shaded corner. His eyes reflect the light from the dimming candle, and they bore into you with that pale shimmer. An unsettling chill trickles down your neck and raises the hair at your nape. The gleam of them disturbs some part of you, but you cannot place why. It is a look you recognize but it feels wrong and alien. 

Its eyes. There is something wrong with its eyes. 

"What are you doing over there?" You ask, and your voice is little more than a whisper, low from sleep and unease. But he does not so much as blink, continuing to stare steadily and the candlelight wobbles on its wick and the cats shadow flickers. It is a strange shadow, much too big for a creature so small.  

Then without any warning he shoots up from his place, trotting across the expanse of the floor and slipping from the door that had been left ajar.

Had it always been open? No

You hardly question it before you are scrambling from the bed to take after him, harshly whispering for him to come back as you pick up what little bit remains of the candle to light your way before hesitantly peek your head between the open gap of the threshold and door, scanning the hallway. But there is not a single guard in sight. The hierodules that had been stationed outside of your quarters were absent. Another peculiarity that is brushed aside when you catch the tip of Cat's tail vanishing amongst the heavy shadows that blot out the hallway and you chase after him regardless, shielding the tiny flame with your hand lest it blow out from the hasty speed of your walking. 

You are being watched you can tell, and your mind distantly supplies that it must be the murals observing you. The painted eyes of the old priestesses and spirits that adorn the walls in robes and vines made from strokes of scarlet and hunter and cerulean. But you could not let yourself look to their judgmental and buoyant faces. 

"Come here!" You hiss lowly through gritted teeth and cast a wary glance across your shoulder to briefly study the black void behind you, hoping that there is nothing lurking within it. 

And you walk for what felt like forever, chasing after the cats wavering tail that turns around twisting halls that do not seem to end, never catching up no matter how quickly you shift your pace. And it is not until you come across another bend in the corridor that the suffocating walls finally seem to open up into a massive room of dust and stones, and the light from the candle casts a glow across the space that was much too abundant considering the modest size of the flame. But he is nowhere to be seen, almost as though he has vanished from thin air. 

The air is damp here, clinging to your skin like the spray of the ocean's waves but much less pleasant. It is much more akin to the sweat that covers you when under the influence of a sickness, you decide. And the aged earthy aroma that permeates the air is even more troubling. Musty and cloying like rancid grapes. It has your nose wrinkling, and you suppress the urge to gag while you investigate the room. It takes a moment for you to make sense of what you are seeing, making out the details of the great room from underneath the oily yellow glow of the candlelight. 

There are large rectangular divots that had been crudely chiseled or dug into the stone near the base of the floor and the many burrows line above each other and descend up along the wall and towards the high tenebrous ceiling. But nestled delicately within each one is some sort of lump, gently wrapped in a rich red clothe. 

That nasty sense of unease washed over you again, prickling at your skin and your heart skips a beat at the sudden burst of fear. But there is curiosity too. It emerges from the recesses of your mind and seems to take a hold of your body, nudging you towards one of the burrows, and with each step you forget why you are even here. The search for your wayward cat completely discarded. Your focus is completely arrested one the form hidden underneath the vibrant silks, and that apprehensive part of you dislike how large the hidden shape seems. 

You mouth has gone dry and your tongue sticks uselessly to the roof of your mouth and a part of you wonders if you would be able scream should you need to. You feel helplessly trapped within your body, like a reluctant passenger, once again forced to be paraded around in a vessel that you did not want to sit upon. And all you could do was watch and feel as your shaky had rose over the red silhouette. You felt the silk underneath your fingertips, too soft and too smooth. Like water. Like blood.  And your mind ceaselessly chants no, no, no even as your body refuses to yield to its commands and your fingers pinch the cloth in a hold and pull it back from the shape. And the blood in your veins seems to freeze despite the way that it races, and the pit of your stomach drops like a stone. 

You want to look away, but your head is locked in place and every muscle has coiled inside of your body tightly. You are paralyzed and pinned where you stand, forced to stare down at the gaunt remains. The sunken eyes and withered, leathered skin pulled taught around its bones like the skeleton is trying to break free from its own body. And brittle hairs still collect around the skull, that once probably shimmered yellow like the rays of the sun but was no lackluster and dry, frayed in its braids. Pinned in place underneath the wring of a ceremonial crown. Vine leaves and olive branches that is embellished with the bright blossoms of poppies. The crown you would be forced to wear tomorrow to symbolize your union with the Endless.  

A shaky exhale rattles out, a dry rasping sound that you would have easily blamed on yourself and the fear squeezing your body in a harsh grip if not for the way that you see the mummified bride's chest quiver unsteadily. She is still alive with her body forced into some sort of permanent sleep. You cannot help but wonder how long she has been held captive here. A hostage in this awful, animated state. And all of these other shapes swaddled in red silks are other sacrifices. And they too are all still awake you realize once you hear the dry whispers of their breath echo across the chamber. 

You want to scream. You can feel it rising and clawing at your throat, but it never escapes, balling up harshly in your chest and just sitting there. But whatever spell had been casted over you finally slips and you stumble back from the burrow and the mummified bride, and your knees shake and give, and you fall onto the chilled floor, dropping the tiny candlestick on your decent. Your knees scrape the rough granite, erupting with streaks of red but you can't be bothered to care, too focused on crawling away from the looming walls, towards the center of the room while your eyes search from the entrance, but it is nowhere to be found. You spin on your knees ignoring the sting, expecting to find the threshold, but all you see are the cold painted walls, adorned with stars and poppy fields and strange beasts with wings and horns and some have the faces of men and the bodies of beasts. But even worse are the open tombs carved into the walls, and they suddenly seem like gapping, hungry mouths and the red silks that adorn the bodies seem more like lashing tongues. 

The candle flickers unsteadily, melted wax pouring around the weak flame, threatening to drown it and douse you in darkness. You make to crawl towards it before it before it can be snuffed out, but your stopped short by a pair of gleaming eyes watching you. The dark fur tells you who it is but your gut lurches at the sight of the cat. And some buried instinct tells you that something is not right. 

The eyes you realize, are tinged with a faint scarlet around the edges, staining the pale silver glow. And it was wrong. That was not the right color. This was not your cat. How did you not notice before?

It was an imposter. The face too narrow, its shadow too big. Too sharp. 

Your heart flutters like a startled bird and your breath seizes in your lungs when the red silks bound around the brides starts to drip and flow down from the stones like liquid. Blood. Their garb has shifted into blood and is pouring and merging into a massive pool around the edge of the wall and it steadily grows. 

The brides labored breathing whistles across the air, raising in volume until it hurts, harshly grating in your ears in a shrill pitch. And the sound mutates into a chorus of screams that you swear you can feel dragging over your skin like claws. You cover your ears with your hands to muffle the impact of the tortured shrieking, but it offers you no solace from the pain. And all the while the cat - the thing - stares at you from its place on the bloody floor, stained by the very red that is closing in on you from all corners, but you cannot find it in yourself to look past the agony to find strength and collect yourself from the cold granite. 

The red pours around the remaining bit of the candle and the small flame at the end of the wick hisses and sputters at the liquids touch. The light emitting from it dims considerably, threatening to enclose the catacomb in a void. And the cats shadow seems to expand underneath the waning fire, stretching in a jagged way that looks like arms trying to tear free from cloth or skin.

And the cat - a mere extension of the true monster - steps forward while its eyes burn brighter. And the blood is upon you, threatening to touch you. Nausea churns in your stomach and all of the muscles in your body draw taught. You are forced to watch as the creature grows closer, and all you can do is try your best to prepare to fight it, as pathetic as your odds no doubt are. And the brides screaming warbles and shifts into a painful mocking laughter as though they could sense your thoughts. And it makes you feel like an animal caught in a cage. A bird pinned between jagged teeth and the jaws are closing in. The walls and shadows move in closer and their joyous howling and giggling rises in a crescendo, celebrating your anticipated death. You brace as best as you can, balling your hands into fists so tightly that your nails break the skin, watching as the monstrous shadow builds up and prepares to lash out with obsidian talons. 

But the killing blow never comes. Instead, a pair of steady arms wrap around your body, encasing you against the comfort of a chest. And a rush of scents washed over you with its presence, and you struggle to place what it reminds you of. The musk of the soil after fresh rain, the salt of the sea, a calm breeze on a summer night; light and floral and earthy, but those descriptions also do no service to the fragrance that engulfs you. And with it something magnetic dances across your skin and it steals your breath away and your body threatens to melt against theirs. 

Your mind can hardly catch up with what you are seeing. The bloody floor of the burial chamber dematerializes from underneath you, but you do not fall but your body tenses in preparation regardless. The walls shake with a tremendous groan, splitting under the seize and giving under spills of sand and the murals bleed with the fractures. And the air is electric with something heavy and alive and angry, and it courses across your skin and siphons the air from your lungs from the gravity of it. Even the beast made from shadows lurches back as if it was struck and hisses underneath the heat of the rage permeating the atmosphere, clawing against the wall that was rapidly disintegrating and losing tangibility. And the beast screams along with the brides as they vanish from existence. One final baleful cry that rattles your bones and shudders over you before it drowns out completely and with it the catacomb all but vanishes and instead of the blood-soaked stones you are looking down at the expanse of the night sky with stars spread out underneath your feet. 

You brain fails to register that you appear to be hovering over a cluster of distant galaxies and you are left to stare down dumbly at the dark mass of the sky, taking in the stretch of the rich splashes of blues and stellar remnants and stardust gathered like clusters of diamonds and the scale of it nearly makes you forget about the press of someone's body along your back. Their arms around your waist in a tight hold, but there is also a sort of reluctance in their grip made known by the rigidity from the muscles of their arms and the narrow gap left between your bodies. But even between the space you can feel the low heat of them radiating against you. A part of you wanted to look over your shoulder, to discover the face of your savior but some pull in your gut warned you not. That you would not like what you would see. And so, you keep still underneath their embrace, staring off into the quiet breadth of the cosmos where comets drop across the darkness like crystalline tears. Seconds pass without either of you moving, as still as statues. As though if either of you so much as breathed the delicate emanation that cocooned the both of you would shatter. But despite your hesitation there was a prickle of curiosity tugging at you, and you could not deny the pull and you made to slowly turn your head in an attempt to sneak a glance over your shoulder. 

You barely manage to twitch a muscle of movement before they seem to shed their initial diffidence and nestle their face near the nape of your neck, and you can feel the tip of their nose brush against your ear like they mean to hide their identity from you. Their chest expands against the flat of your back, and it takes a moment for your overstimulated brain to realize that they are drawing in a breath, taking your scent into their lungs and holding it there like its oxygen. For some reason it sends of thrum of heat over your body, and combined with the steady, pulsating hum of otherworldly power that courses through the air, it makes you feel as though you may collapse. That you might come apart and burst into flames. There is no chill of fear and disgust does not rise in your stomach like nausea instead their presence feels welcomed. And despite the foreign sensation of their touch, there is also a sense of familiarity to it. Like finally falling into the arms of an old lover. 

They move their head from your by just a few scant inches, and a strange part of you mourns the loss. You wished that the hover of their lips would land on your skin, but they do not. The circle of their arms seems to press you in closer, like they cannot bear even the possibility of you parting.

For a moment the cosmos seems to halt, the intersperse collection of individual galaxies and stars pausing in their rotations and the night holds its breath and so do you. Then a sound purrs out, a heavy baritone that pours across the silence of the universe and fills you with honey and warmth. A deep, smoky cadence that you can feel curling inside the cavern of your chest and running deep across your bones and the nerves and sinew of your entire being. 

"This dream is over." 

You wake with a start. Sucking air into your lungs with a strained gasp while your hands reach around the bedding in a mindless scramble, struggling to orient yourself, but eventually you are able to at least prop your body up on shaky arms. Your eyes rove across your surroundings, no longer taking in the breathless view of stardust and nebulas but the dull clay walls of your vacant quarters and apart from yourself the bed is empty. A quick press of your hand against the stuffed mattress confirms that Cat - you're Cat had been there at some point in the night, the heat still trapped within the fabric from where he sat next to you. And you had shakily removed from yourself from the bed and searched the room for him. You had even approached the door, pressing your head against the wood and contemplated opening it but you could hear one of the guards shuffling behind it, trying to find some reprieve for their aching feet. And so, you returned to the bed with that dark voice still echoing in your ears. You could not sleep. Not even if you wanted. Not with that shadowed creature lurking and that familiar stranger invading your mind. The Nightmare Ruler, your brain supplied without forgiveness, and the thought sent a shiver down your spine. 

And you lay there for hours, now awaiting the sunrise despite the threat that it posed, clinging to your own body with shaking arms as you stare into the darkness, waiting to find something looking back. But soon the maids are pouring into your room and scattering around the foot of your bed, and they must have noticed the panic on your face as a hint of curiosity bleeds through their blase expressions, apart from that single one who always seems to be plotting your demise. 

"Is something the matter? You look troubled." And even in your tired haze you know that it is the voice of the one who openly dislikes you. The one with the sable hair and venomous words. Euthymia, you had learned her name to be. She makes no effort to hide the delight in her tone and in turn you do not even try to school the scowl that takes over your features, pinning her with an open glower, but it does nothing to extinguish the joyful gleam in her eyes. The other servants are ushering you out of bed, already cooing and gushing over the prospect of preparing you for the day ahead and you suddenly feel as though you have been tossed into a lake of ice. The five-day long celebration is coming to a close. The ritual is tonight. 

They ignore your distress, urging you to shed your slip and climb into the bath full of steaming water and oils to prepare you for the ritual. And they had patted you dry when you had gotten out of the tub so that they could dap at your skin with lotions and perfumes. Running marjoram in your hair and something faintly sweet but heady and spicy beneath your jaw. Even spreading fragrances across your inner thighs and palm oil around your breasts. It had an embarrassed heat prickling across your face, and you nearly scoffed at their presumptuousness. And then they were guiding you to kneel on the cushions placed before the large, polished bit of bronze propped along the wall, using the reflection so that you may observe the process as they worked. You were in a fog as they combed your hair and set it and pinned it in a way that they deemed worthy, but you cannot stop thinking of that velvet timber and the feeling of being watched by concealed eyes prickles along your body. And you try to ignore the sensation, telling yourself that it is just paranoia. 

But you could not dwell on your troubles for long before you had taken notice of the strip of fabric from the corner of your eye. And a better look had confirmed it was indeed that dreadful gown that had been laid out along the cushions. You stared from your peripheral vision and each time your head moved even the slightest degree out of their disliking one of the maids would jerk it back into place, scolding you underneath their breath, but your eyes did not stray from the pieces of clothing once. It would have been a gorgeous thing if not for the horror that is comes with it. A vibrant scarlet and intricate gold and black stitching and embroidery. But you could not marvel over its beauty, instead you eyed it warily as though it was poisonous. And perhaps it was.

It truly disturbed you. That horrid red thing that signaled the final chapter of your life, and you could hear the anguished cries and manic laughter of the brides from your nightmare echoing out from the depths of your mind. You could not suppress the way you shuddered. Was that meant to be your fate? A captive in her own body, suppressed underneath a spell of eternal slumber while her body wasted away in a forgotten tomb? You had heard rumors of what happened to the nightmare king's brides after the ritual. Presumptions truly, fabricated speculation that had no true foundation as the priestesses are very private about the affairs of the ceremony that do not require the presence of the villagers. And the townspeople are typically guided out of the temple after the connection between the Chosen and the Endless has been successfully tethered.

Most speculations were good natured enough. Painting the role of becoming one of the Dream King's brides in a lavish light. Something to be envious of, with many saying that to be one of his Chosen was to spend eternity of nights in endless pleasure, with the world at your fingertips. 

But there had been other more sinister whispers, idle gossip that the unconscious brides were taken to a subterranean set of tunnels built underneath the temple. Dug to house the women as they slept on, not killed so as not to sever the link between them and the dream god but kept animated and sleeping within the icy tombs of the catacombs. Kept that way so that the deity could torment them in the halls of kingdom for all eternity. Feasting on their souls and flesh. But many refuse to believe the rumor, even your own father had rebutted the very possibility, as he was a firm believer that the Chosen were simply killed off after the ritual and their bodies were burned so that the ashes could be released upon the winds and lifted to the gods along with the plume incents and smoldering herbs. 

But neither option fared well for you. 

"You had seemed quite distressed when we came in. Did you have a nightmare, my lady?" Euthymia asks, voice sickly sweet with false sincerity. "How strange that the Dream King would allow his Chosen to be harassed by his spirits." And she pats the juice of crushed mulberries onto the rise of your cheeks to add color to your skin, but the push of her fingertips was much too harsh. You were tempted to lunge at her but restrained yourself. 

"Not at all. In fact, I had a rather pleasant dream. " You reply cooly, not allowing her to see you shaken and you tilt your head, pretending to admire the way that they had dressed your hair and decorated it with flowers and pieces of jewels. " It was a rather pleasurable one." 

"Pleasurable?" Comes her nonplussed response and her hand pauses, simply hovering. 

"Oh, yes." You speak lowly, like you are sharing a scandalous story, and your tone is all smooth and honeyed. " It was not a nightmare that visited me, but the Dream King himself. " And you cannot help but internally gloat at the way that some part of her seems to waver, visibly deflating underneath your lie. " He had crawled between my thighs you see and ravished me with his tongue in ways that no mortal man ever could." Even the other ladies had halted in their routine, stopping to listen to your hastily spun fib. And you casted your gaze downward to your hands demurely, like you were shy or embarrassed that you had lost your manners. Scandalized, the other maids had bent towards each other and exchange giggling whispers, but Euthymia was less than enthused. And for the remainder of your time together she had been tightlipped and scowling, and you were surprised that a storm cloud had not been following her every move with how bothered she seemed to be. 

But you could not deny that she made a good point. Why had you suffered from a nightmare at all? It had been sometime since you had. You could hardly recall when it had been last. Perhaps you truly had done something to anger the god. But that had been him, had it not? The one who had come to your aid and taken you in his arms and spoke to you with that smoky cadence. It must have been if the way that he had ended your dream so easily was any indication. And that primordial vibration that had surrounded you both; it was the same that you had felt at the pyre when that strange man was watching. 

And perhaps tonight you would get the answers that you seek, but then you might not want them. 

The rest of the day pours in a distorted stream, and you hardly register slipping into you into that disturbing red garb and you barely notice when the priestesses and temple guards arrive to collect you from the maids and guide you to the dinning haul of the commune where you are assisted down to the sunken floor in the center of the room as some sort of center piece, once again forcing you to sit underneath the eyes of hundreds. You feel exposed, as though you were not wearing clothes at all. Stripped for them to criticize and leer at. You were sure that every person in the village was here to enjoy the banquet. Even the servants were allotted freedom from their duties for the final night of the ritual and were free do dine alongside their masters as equals. 

And once again they had provided you with the best meats and fruits and wine available. The finest of the bounty collected over the farms and orchards for you to gorge yourself on like a swine before its slaughter and because of that you could not bring yourself to eat despite the hollow pit in your gut that begged you to do so.  And you could feel the Priestesses dozen eyes boring into from their place from above, no doubt taking your refusal to eat as not just an insult to themselves but to their god as well. Good. 

But the townspeople did not seem to care, laughing freely and enjoying the festivities without pause and you had been forced to sit as time waned and the sun drifted closer and closer towards the edge of the earth, no matter how much you wished and willed for it not to. And once the townspeople had finished indulging on mead and wine and satiated their hunger, the shrine had collected you once more to climb upon the palanquin that awaited outside, surrounded by servants who prepared to march you across the town from the strength of their shoulders to the Temple of Morpheus where death awaited you. You had tried to struggle against the shackles of the hierodules hands that had seized your arms and shoulders like bands of steel. But you could not shake yourself from their grip and they were mercilessly placing you upon the extravagant cushions of the human-powered vehicle to be suspended high in the air. 

And the townspeople congregated around you as you were carried from the walls of the commune and into the streets, lighting the way with burning torches. And many people had once again adorned themselves in the beastly costumes and danced and cavorted around the palanquin and through the crowd. The Sisters' lead the collective. And you had noticed in the head priestesses' hands, she cradled an obsidian bowl covered by a lid decorated by strokes of gold. A harmless item that on its own would have done nothing to inspire fear in you, but you had heard hushed conversation of its contents before. Some sort of vapor that smoldered from the extract of the poppy flower, and it would serve to tether you to the gods. Or in this occasion one god in particular. 

And once again blossoms and seeds were being tossed over the procession in a celebratory display. In the hands of men and women and children alike people carried votive offerings for the Endless, such as figurines of animals and carvings of a humanoid figure.  And in the cavalcade, musicians were present, playing from a kithara and an aulos, and a lyra. But even over the cheering and commotion and music you could hear a soft repetitive ruffle along the low breeze. You had jerked your head up to search the sky, nearly straining a muscle in the process but the pain had faded into the background at the sight of a dark bird coasting along the current. And a faint iridescent sheen had gleamed on its feathers from underneath the dimming sunlight and the Priestesses - and in turn the crowd had all rejoiced at the bird's appearance, as it no doubt heralded good fortune. 

But you did not share their positive reactions. You heard all the stories, that the ravens were the dark god's familiars, serving as his eyes and ears when he himself could not be present. Your anxiety had not time to settle no matter how much you tried to swallow it down and the presence of the circling bird did nothing to quell the bubbling fear in your gut and bones. 

And soon the procession ventured from the village and the pale marble of the temple seemed to rise from the hill behind the security of its protective wall. It was the only building that had been spared in the initial siege from the Oneiroi when the Nightmare King had abandoned the village in his scorn. It is just the same as when you had last saw it as a child. The ghostly white columns that reminded you of the remains of a skeleton, and the sculpted pediment that depicted beastly creatures in various poses; lashing out and snarling while some seemed to be frozen in the motion of dance. But in the center was a more human figure. No doubt the Endless himself. And the scene was painted in blues and black, with hints of red and gold embellishments.  

And the closer you got to the temple the more your anxiety climbed, until you trembled where you sat, staring into the vacant eyes of the god's sculptured image. And even those they were not real they seemed to bore into you and flay you open until all of your emotions and shaky breaths poured out. Even the sheer fabric of your veil did little to lessen the feeling. 

It was not until you felt hands circling the shape of your arms that you came to and were able to discern that you had been lowered to the ground of the courtyard and were being pulled from your knees, and you were wordlessly guided up the temple. But you did not feel the stairs underneath your feet and the music and laughter sounded as though it were coming from miles away, carried in on a foreign wind. And even when you stepped upon the landing and two of the sisters spun you around to face the crowd down below that had not felt real either. It was like looking at a tapestry of faded figures and blurred colors. 

Then the head priestess stepped in front of you in a flash of black, blotting out your vision of the crowd like the moon obstructing the sun in an eclipse, but you were thankful for it. Then her voice broke out in a shrill bellow, the passion expelling from her cracking it around the edges. " Tonight marks the emergence of our return to grace and glory from underneath the compassion of our god! " She cried and the crowd cried along with her, waving their torches animatedly to show their elation. " No longer will we be shunned by His Sovereignty for we have been given a chance to correct a wrong that should never have happened! To bow our heads in humble plea and return to him which was stolen all those years ago!" 

It made you nauseous the way they spoke of you. As though you were some frivolous token to be bartered. How they did not see you or any of the women before you as human beings with lives and wants and futures but as a cow to be slaughtered. A coin to be exchanged for lavish fabrics and abundant crops. And you could feel the stinging heat of anger filling your chest and pushing out heavy breaths from your lungs. But when the Head Priestess had shifted and moved from out of your vision it left you to make eye contact with the cheering masses; her voice had faded into a low, distant drone. And inside their crazed sort of jubilation, you could see every other emotion that you had felt since the Endless had descended his hoard upon the village in incessant torment: Loss, pain, fear, hunger, sorrow, confusion. 

Many lives have been lost since the day that he had seemed you all unworthy of his gratitude and sanctuary. He had turned the land barren and dry and the animals that had once flourished here have all been culled by his nightmares and their numbers have suffered and dwindled greatly. But as much as you sympathized with these people, understood their plight, you did not owe them anything. Certainly not your life. Especially since they had casted you from your home without so much as a backward glance, forcing you live along the forest all because you were not a kept woman. 

And in five years' time there would be another there would be another girl here, standing just as you do now, willing or unwilling to bear the collectives sins, to pacify the Endless for the good fortune. It would be a ceaseless loop. History repeating itself one poor soul at a time. 

A part of you considered fighting free from the sisters' hold. Of running down the steps and out of the temple grounds without looking back. But even if you happened to make it past the massive crowd of desperate villagers and to the sea, there were no ships, no small rowboats left for fishing. All of the seafaring vessels had been all but demolished by his spirits to keep all of the locals who wronged him trapped on the island to endure the full brunt of his punishment. And even those who have managed to hide the construction boats - avoiding the Ruler of Nightmares many scrutinizing eyes and pushed their watercraft into the dark waves while underneath the shine of the sun, when his influence was claimed to be at its weakest had all disappeared into the heavy wall of fog that surrounds the coast. Only the remains of their boats would float back to shore, sometimes with blood staining the waves.

You truly were left to the fate that these people and their god spared you to. 

Then the head priestess was spinning around in a flurry of robes, and you could not evade the fervor of her gaze, could not flee from, still immobilized by her sisters and their rigid hold of their hands. The gleam in her eyes was detached and wild; the darkness of her pupils swelling, eating up the colored rings around their borders until they were nearly gone. It was the expression of someone who could not be reasoned with. Poisoned by power and hope. But you did not waver underneath the weight of her fixed stare. 

Then one of the sisters was gripping you by the nape of your neck, the movement unexpected enough to pull a startled cry from your lips. It did not give you time to register the obsidian bowl being lifted to your face, the lid being removed to release plumes of smoke. Even through the veil you could feel the warmth of the vapors caressing the skin of your cheeks. It is all so abrupt that you inhale a large lungful in the midst of your struggle, and the scent of it overwhelms you. Stuffing your mouth and nostrils full of something sweet and floral, tinged with the musk of the earth. It reminds you of flowers, of incents but also not at all. And your lungs are too busy heaving around the unexpected rush of smoke and your mind too confused and scrambled to feel or focus on the world around you, and the Priestesses voice was the last coherent thing to break through the fog: "Do not fight this, my dear. " Her voice crooned. Too sweet, to gentle for her cruelty. "To you we give thanks for your sacrifice for our prosperity." 

And in your distress, you tried to think of anything to keep yourself grounded and present. Anything to keep you here in your body, terrified of crossing over and falling into the Nightmare King's gnashing teeth. So you think of your list of chores awaiting you at home; tending to the garden now that life was coming back to the soil, setting more traps in the forest, plucking wild strawberries from the small cluster that you had discovered growing in a small grove, seeing Cat again - the little beast refuses to eat unless you prompt him to (there is no one else to take care of him) - and walking along the beach during the sunrise. Feeling the sand and water underneath your toes and watching the sunlight reflect and dapple the surface. But soon the thoughts were drowning out underneath the impression of the fuzz and haze that blanked your mind. You felt as though your soul was rising from the casing of your body and floating up to the sky above the temple, but you could still feel your knees making contact with the cold marble floors, though the feeling was far off and dull. But there was still anger simmering through your veins. Hurt and betrayal. What were you mad about? 

And the world around you is a rush of colors and blurred shapes and muffled sounds. But you do not want to focus on it regardless. You can't when the weightlessness is pulling at your fingertips and threatening to take you away with it (but you can't leave, what about him?) and deposit you among the stars, and the only thing that gives you even a scrap of connection to your own body is the repetitive pulse of your heartbeat coursing in your ears. The floral sugar and salt of the smoke still coats your tongue, and you can feel it in your lungs, heavy and syrupy. And the drag of your relaxed limbs seems to pull you down now instead of up, with the thrum of your heart doing little to center you anymore. But its less of a pulse now and more of pound -an angry crash. That's not right, is it? 

You try to blink. To get some scope of reality, but it's difficult to keep your eyes past the blurred sting. Are you crying? No, that is not right either. It is no longer a steady beat, but a deafening layered rumble, muffled but also painfully loud. You can faintly see past the red sheer of your veil glimpses of black and blue streak across your vision, with peeks of flashes of tiny pale dots.

It is all to distorted and airy. Too muddled for your mind to make something tangible but then your body is being tossed by some unforeseen force. A sharp, unrelenting pull that moves your entire being like it weighs nothing and the air is snatched from your lungs, and you choke on something. Some deeply imbedded survival instinct awakens and your body flails, limbs dragging and reaching through the thick atmosphere in attempt to grab ahold of something. Anything to orient yourself and make sense of what is happening to you, but your hands come up empty. Your lungs twitch, trying to draw in a breath but instead they burn, and the sting is so potent that it licks a trail up your throat and the pungent taste of salt blankets you tongue.

Water, some faint thought breaches the cotton that stuffs your skull. You're in water. 

And your body moves on its own, arms and legs kicking to propel in what you hope is the direction of the surface. In a glance upward you notice the distorted expanse of what must be the waves, and through the commotion above you see that glimpse of those burning pinpricks of light again and with no other alternative, fueled by an animalistic sort of fear you swim towards it. You can only hope that you make it up in time, with your lungs aching and burning like smoldering embers within your chest. You can already feel your limbs growing sluggish from the lack of oxygen and the heavy tow of your ceremonial robes, but you try your best to keep moving, dragging yourself forward with weak arms and legs. But death still hangs heavy in the back of your mind. And for the second time tonight you're terrified that this may be your final moments, with your legs flailing uselessly and the darkness clouding at the base of your senses like a layer of winter ice. It makes it difficult, but it is sheer instinct and panic and hope that burns at your muscles, reviving them of their vigor and pressing you onwards. 

It is your hands that break through the surf first, quickly followed by your head and you could have sobbed with relief if you were not busy trying not to remain afloat and actively choking on the water in your throat. And you push yourself forward, even as the waves toss you in their angry roll against the shore. But blessedly under the current that threatens to drag you under and drown you it also serves to propel you forward towards the beach, jostling your body with their great power and you feel like a child's toy that had been lost over the side of a boat. It is on the pale crest of an angry wave that you meet the shore, being carelessly discarded on the sand and the rush of water pelts across your back, soaking you one final time before retreating back into the ocean behind you. 

You gather as much as strength as you have left to prop yourself up on your hands and knees, carrying yourself across the beach with wobbling limbs while your abdomen and chest shiver and heave in a violent fit. The muscles of your body squeezing you tightly to expel the sea water from your lungs in a shaky grip that has you gasping and wheezing. And even though your lungs sting like a raw wound as you suck in a ragged inhale, the dim feel of oxygen filling your lungs is wonderful, like a healing ointment smoothed over a fresh burn. You allow yourself to collapse onto your stomach once you escape the reach of the sea, but it is difficult to see, to hear and even still hard to breathe with the thin fabric of your veil clinging to the shape of your face from the weight of the water pulling the material down, pressing it against the divots of your nostrils nearly waterboarding you with each breath. 

You blindly yank at the veil, tearing it and your Stefana from your head with an angry huff, carelessly tossing it. You do not see where it falls but you can hear it land with an unattractive wet plap. You blink freely now able to take in your surroundings now that, that cursed thing is no longer tainting your vision. You deduce quickly that you are on a beach. Obviously. But it does not appear to be the one that you often find yourself strolling down on your free time, fantasizing about distant lands or the Isles of the Blessed, or the islands where the sirens live and lure sailors to their deaths. The sand was far too pale. Too soft. And when you moved it seemed to glitter like snow underneath sunlight. But it was a glance upward that confirmed your awful reality. The sky above was not yours. The scattering of stars not sparing enough and the expanse of it was not simply a dark backdrop but splashed with vibrant rich nebulas of azure and silver and pale golds against the black velvet of space. The stardust seemed to shift as though the heavens were a living breathing thing. And the constellations above you are unrecognizable. There is no Orion, lunging forward to strike or brace against the blow of a foe, and the scattered knot of the Pleiades is absent from the sky.  

Your heart sinks to the base of your gut and a heated rock seems to lodge itself in your throat, rising with the threat of tears all from the bruising reality that you are no longer home. Not just the island, or your house, but the entire plain of your existence. Plucked from everything you have ever known by the hands of your people to appease a monster. Heartlessly thrown into the deity's domain. Forgotten and used. 

You remembered the tales told by your mother and the words that had been passed down from priestess to priestess across the centuries that spoke of the Nightmare Ruler's world: The Dreaming, it was called. The place that served as the cradle of the universe's collective unconsciousness, housing the minds a mortal, beast and god alike while they slept. An extension of the Endless himself. The entire realm was a dream in its own right. That means that you must be able to wake from it. Perhaps you could will yourself awake if you concentrated enough. You have been never much of a lucid dreamer. Only able to do small feats of altering landscapes or changing the color of your dress. You had never been aware enough to wake yourself. But maybe here in the Dreaming you would be able to conjuror some sort of exit. 

You centered your attention down to a single thought: Waking up. Of feeling the drag of consciousness slipping back into your physical body and opening your eyes. And you pushed that thought until your body responded with the ferocity of it, your muscles tensing under the strain of it, and you are left gasping, the same as you had when you crawled ashore. You think of your body, still and induced in that horrific stasis, being purified underneath the smoke of incense and wrapped in the red silk and voile fabric by the Priestesses to be carried and stuffed down in the catacombs like a forgotten relic. You thought of waking suddenly. Of tearing yourself from the cloth and fleeing home and dropping to your knees to burry your fingers in the soil there and crying with the relief that would swell within your chest and blossom with the joy of being home. 

And you had found that in your desperation you had actually crumbled to your knees, but you did not feel the gentle earth beneath your hands but sand.

You take to pinching at your arm in a pathetic attempt to try and escape the Dreaming, twisting the flesh between your fingertips until it stung but to no avail. 

And a low, heavy wind rumbled across the beach, howling over the waves and the field of crimson blossoms and golden wheat, punctuating the silence and the loneliness that hung over you like the aftermath of a tempest. Defeat weighed down your shoulders as you watched the thrashing ocean with a sense of detachedness. Then something in the air seemed to shift, pulsing with something alive. That distantly familiar alien thrum and you could feel it against your skin; a magnetic pressure that reminded you of a brief night in the cosmos, held in a tight embrace. You did not have to turn to confirm who the presence was. You did not know if you had the strength to. The fear and gravity of the beings pull nearly seized your lungs, and you clenched your hands into fist to bear the feeling of it. And then that velveteen rasp speaks out, moving down your body like a flow of water and smoke and you can feel the hum of it in your bones.  

"I had no intention of your arrival being so distressful. Had you not struggled your coming would not have been so violent. " His tone is a placid timbre, but you swear you can detect sympathy - perhaps a sort of regret - tinged into the edges of his words. But it does little to placate you. His detached surprise at your anguish only serves to mutate your sorrow and defeat and it gives way into anger, searing at you like a burning fire that needs something to burn, and chars any remaining pieces of your self-preservation and wit, making you forget that you were in front of deity that has seen eons come and go in its lifetime and was currently holding your mind and possibly your soul hostage. But you did not care. Not now, with your entire life in an upheaval. And even then, you still can't bring yourself to look at it - the source of that primordial electric pulse. To confirm all of your fears, that home was truly out of reach, that you were entirely out of depth and in a plain that you did not belong in. There was a safety in your delusions, your self-imposed ignorance. And so you stared at the angry, rolling waves and pretended that they were your own, not daring to turn yet. "What was your intention? " You inquired, not even bothering to hide the scorn in your broken voice. Not caring of the consequences. " That you'd just steal me away from everything I've ever known, and I'd be content with it?" 

"Look at me. " 

It is a simple set of words, but the conviction of it beats across the very fabric that binds and creates the Dreaming, rippling over the sand, shifting stars and stirring the already tumulus waves to threatening heights and the power of it runs through your unconsciousness as well, tingling across your body and it commands you to move. An unwelcome reminder of your mortality and the scope of the deity and his domain. You turn slowly, helpless to ignore the order even while you dread looking upon him. Wondering if he would wear the skin of a monster to punish you for your ire. Perhaps contorted limbs and bloody jagged teeth or stretched flesh and the lifeless abysmal gaze of that otherworldly helm.

There is none of that. No cloak made of nightmares or terror. Just a man. But that is not right either. 

Regardless of the glamour he had casted this was no man. Ignoring the information as told by the naked eye all of the minute tells became glaringly obvious, such as the way his skin was too soft and free from blemish or flaw, like the statues crafted in his commemoration; the messy tresses of his hair that appeared as though they were spun from the night sky itself and the impossible blue of his eyes that mimicked the shade of a crystalline sea, or perhaps they were a reflection of the very nebulas above you now. He is so beautiful that it is almost cruel. You have to wonder why he chose you specifically. That he has been watching over you since the night at the pyre. Long before that even. That, that same voice had spoken to you during your sleep and commanded you to wake, and once again you are unable to ignore it, standing from your place on the sand. 

The brunt of his gaze is too much- scrutinizing. You felt like you were stripped bare. Every nerve, every want or worry or promise that you had ever made was laid out across the shore for him examine. You quailed underneath the breadth of it, the sheer intensity was maddening - that there seemed to be no secret that you could hide from him. The entirety of your mind held within the webbing of his domain for him study and toy with.  

"Why do you fear me?" He asked, and you could laugh or cry at the question but neither would do proper service to express the severity of your emotions. The turmoil and confusion. He sounded so sincere. Just as perplexed as you even though his stance was devoid of any body language. Rigid and exact, with an almost clinical posture. But you could see it in his eyes. A small, fleeting glimpse of his own confusion, a slight furrow of an eyebrow, but it vanished just as quickly as it had appeared, erased and blotted out by that aloof expression. 

You were not even sure how to respond, and for a moment your mouth hangs open silently while you collect yourself and find your voice: " I - just - all of the death. " You finally answer lamely, trying to swallow around the dryness of your throat. " The slaughter and starvation. The disease. The suffering." 

"They broke their promise. " It was said so simply. As though it was enough to justify the atrocities and it made nausea bubble in your gut, and hatred too. 

"All because of a woman." You cannot contain the way you scoff, shifting on your feet like you do not know whether to approach him or step away and create more space, your body prickling underneath weight of his aura and his unwavering observation. "You had hundreds slaughtered because you were not given one woman." 

"That is the price for bargaining with an Endless and taking back your word." He replied easily. A simple matter of fact for him, like it was a natural law, a part of his nature that should be expected and understood without consequence, that all failures to comply could not be faulted on him. It was just another tough reminder that this was no mortal that you stood before and that he could not be expected to obey or sympathize with the jurisdictions of your human morality.  

And there was a shift in his expression, something steely and resolute, and the distance between your bodies seemed to close in even though neither of you had placed a single step until there was only a scant space left between you. " I will do the same for you. " 

There was no past tense used. And perhaps under different circumstances you could have seen it as an intimate declaration of love, but it was uttered with a conviction that you could feel and the threat - the promise was hauntingly clear. That he would lay waste to the remaining people of your village if you refused. And although his body remained unmoved, the pressure of his influence hummed and molded against you and robbed you of your breath. It felt like you were standing within the deluge of a summer storm, caught within spires of stardust and the heat of a nova. 

"Their crime is no longer yours to bear. " He said calmly - soothingly like he was trying to placate you. " You will not be harmed. " 

"Is that really true? " You ask, still full of disbelief and contempt and this time you do venture to take a step back and blessedly he allows you, and you cannot help but be thankful that he does not shift the sands to draw you in closer.  "They tell stories of what you do to your tributes once you have them, I'm sure you've heard. That you mold yourself into the likeness of a beast and hunt them, chasing them down the halls of your palace and tearing them limb from limb for eternity: A cycle of death and pain." 

And that pale animal gleam from the bonfire burns alight in his eyes and it does little to quell your steady stream of anxiety, but his indignation does not seem to be aimed at you specifically. " Is that truly what you believe?" And there is a gentleness to him, the annoyance receding as though he was more perturbed than angry, and a part of you nearly regrets having told him, but you squash that scrap of emotion before anything can come of it. "That I am some heartless monster than means to torture you for my entertainment."  

"Well, what else am I supposed to be led to think?" Surely a being of his scope, of his age and power must realize the severity of his actions. The violence and heartache that has bleed across the island and tainted the soil at his command. The senseless slaughter and starvation, forced to helplessly watch as your loved ones succumbed to it. The horrid, twisted sleepless nights and soiled dreams, and then you can hear it again, that twisted vacant laughter, rushing blood and mutilated shadows. " Especially after you sent your nightmares out to trouble me." 

"I promise that I have done no such thing" He assured, but it did little to soothe your frazzled state. " I gave them all specific instruction not to harm you, but they are not without their own free will, and I have delt with it accordingly." He spoke of his creatures as though they were misbehaving children. Simply spoiled and wayward, and not cruel, sadistic beasts. And perhaps he truly did not mean for one of his Oneiroi to haunt you in the night. After all, he did arrive to banish the spirit from your unconsciousness, to wrap his arms around your body in a secure embrace before ending the dream. But regardless of the fact, you could not forgive him.  

"I don't care. I want to go home." 

"Is that truly what you are clinging to? Those empty cold walls, vacant of family or companionship?  Or is it them? The very people that so freely discarded you. Abandoned and out casted you as though you were a leper." 

He was right of course. You were already well aware of the fact, but it did not make it sting any less to hear, and the old memories that rose up were less than welcome. A painful reminder that even your own father and mother had rejected you, not physically but the emotional disconnect had been there. A rift had torn between your dynamic like a gaping, festering wound that had never truly healed.  They had never looked at you the same, the both of them loathing you for marring the family name and social standing. And the other villagers would all murmur and stare in disdain whenever you had ventured into town to collect fruits or fresh meats at the local market, all because you had slept with a man as an unmarried woman. And your alienation was palpable. But you did not want to give him the satisfaction of admitting it and caving in. 

"No- they didn't-" 

"But they did, didn't they?" You could not stand his confidence. How he held his head high with that resolute air of certitude and kingly ego, how the air pulsed over you and tingled at your flesh like a balm. "Leaving you all in alone in that quiet little house, hoping that you'd fall prey to one of my nightmares." 

He steps forward crowding into your space with that pale wicked gleam in his eyes and the stars hanging in the sky behind him seem to warp towards his person, as though they were trying to leave their heavenly cradle to follow him. You heart speeds from apprehension surely, but you don't find yourself leaning away from his body or trying to flee. You are stock still, hardly able to spare any pieces of your attention on anything other than him. And then he is lifting a hand to brush against your cheek, featherlight but somehow still reverent in its glide and you can feel the life radiating from it. Ice and heat simultaneously, cosmos and earth. 

"I can give you everything you crave. The life you've always dreamed of having." His voice that dark velvet purr, draping around you temptingly.  "You will want for nothing." But you are hardly hearing his words anymore too preoccupied with the tender trail of his curled fingers; his knuckles tracing a blaze of warmth down your throat, slipping down dangerously close to the bit of your chest exposed by the low hang of the garment. But his hand pauses in its descent, stopping just a few inches from the valley between your breasts, and you cannot hide the way that your body shivers at the contact, a heat stirring within you. "But it is a decision that must be made of your own accord." 

And then he is backing away from you, allowing the atmosphere to clear of its electrical charge and for oxygen fill your lungs, but your body mourns the loss of his touch regardless of your returned breath. And it is then that you are able to realize what he had said, and some bit of hope blossoms, and now it is you who makes after him, following his path as he glides through the field of red and gold. 

"Wait? I can go home if choose to?" 

"No." 

"But you just sai-"

He turns to you so quickly that it is surprising, whipping around in a stream of darkness, and in the distant stars held within the fabric of his chlamys adjust with the movement. "You are a part of the Dreaming now. There is no place for you in the mortal realm - not anymore." 

The revelation has the same effect as a pail of ice water being doused over you. Unforgiving, paralyzing. And this time you do not have the ability to respond, far too busy grappling all of the emotions that are clamoring for the forefront.  

"Your home is here now. " He insists, lips pursed in a petulant sort of way. " Regardless of if you decide to take your place alongside me, this is where you must stay. Even if you were to leave this instant, time within the Dreaming does not abide by the same laws of your world. You would return to a point not of your own. Lost in a time entirely unfamiliar." 

And the chasm that has been threatening to break seems to grow deeper, fissures and cracks breaking at the foundations. And you vehemently want to deny him. To call him out for lying. Surely, he must be, how good can the Nightmare Ruler's word truly be? Is he a being that can possibly be trusted? But if he is correct, telling the complete truth and you were able to return to your realm would you be able to survive it? The sight of your home now years, if not decades old crumpled and dilapidated from the unforgiving pressure of time might break you. He must notice that vulnerability wearing down on you, because something in his gaze softens and you wished that he didn't look like he cared because some horrid part of you - the same one that had preened underneath his touch - is comforted by his attention, left wanting for it even and you are finding it difficult to be revolted or angry anymore. You would like to blame it on remnants of that perfumed smoke being still in your system, but truthfully you have not felt its influence since you had been dunked into the ocean. The brackish water and chaotic waves seeming to have strained it from your system. Or perhaps it had been the Dreaming itself that had done so, assisted with the fact that you may not even be tethered to your body at all anymore, the effects of the smoke too distant to reach your spirit that has drifted too far from its body. Maybe you truly do belong to his realm now. And you wait for that coal of anger to burn again, but it never comes, leaving you feeling hollow and broken. Exhausted even while you stand in a world fashioned from dreams. "I'm just tired . . . " You mourn weakly, watching the reeds and blossoms sway in the soft wind. 

"Then let me ease your burden. " His voice is much closer than it had been before, and when you jerk your head up, startled from the proximity of it, the point of your nose nearly brushed against his. You are immediately drawn into the all-consuming center of his gaze, and it feels like you are being held within it, called to the edge of something yawning and consuming, beckoning you to jump and you do not think that you have the strength to pull back from it. And you found that you did not want to. 

He has not made any means to move, leaving it to you to close the distance and you do, the hesitation thawing. He tracts you as you draw near, seeming to hold a breath that he did not need, and he appears tense, rigid like he was physically restraining himself with a practiced sort of patience. And it might have frightened you earlier, but the fervor in them does nothing to dissuade you now if anything it only serves to motivate you. Inside those pale irises you see cyan and indigo and sapphire flaring like nebulas drawing you in like a flower leaning towards the sun, and for a moment you swear you caught a glimpse of something else lurking inside of them, a glimmer of his true self perhaps; something vast and entirely beyond you. It felt ancient and ever-expanding, ignited and twisting and looming. And you felt like you were on the horizon of making sense of it and both entirely too far, slipping through your muddled understanding like sand and smoke, scorching like a harsh ice. 

It is the whisper of his nose brushing against yours that draws you from your fixation, a delicate sensation but it was blessedly enough to bring you back to the present, assisted by the rich rumble of his voice. "Come back to me. " 

"I nearly fell in, " you murmur back. And it was not a lie, you had nearly lost yourself in the paradox and cosmos that created him but it was also said in an attempt to jest. And you succeeded it seemed if the light, barely there rise at the corner of his mouth way any indication. It all feels fragile, unsure but not unwelcome. Like life returning to the earth after a harsh winter, blossoms breaking through sheets of snow, guided by the tender thaw of sunlight. 

"May I touch you?" He asks, tilting his head to just barely skim the fulness of his lips against yours, not kissing you but just enough to leave your skin tingling in their wake. It is a simple question, but it is enough to have that burning ache coming alive again, taking root deep in the base of your abdomen and you find yourself nodding. Frustratingly enough he does not move, ever a pillar of restraint and he leans his head back when you tilt to close the distance between you. And you catch the smug air that surround him, and you would have snapped at him if you had the gall to, if you did not want him to just kiss you already.

"Use your words. " That dark honeyed resonance tramples any semblance of a barb that you had even fleetingly entertained. The Dreaming has long since gone quiet, seeming to betray its creator's appearance of undisturbed control with the febrile energy that tangled around the both of you, fueling your own growing need with its charge. And you were unable to withhold the plead that leaves you, a floaty sigh: "Please touch me." 

You do not compute him nearing, eliminating the remaining space that divided you to press his lips against your own, suddenly they just are. It is soft, explorative but not without longing. And the sheer need behind it has your knees going weak, and if not for the appearance of an arm around your waist you feared that you might have actually fallen. Your body thrums with a sort of unsuppressed elation, a syrupy heat spreading across your limbs and dripping down your spine, settling between the cradle of your hips from the swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, silently asking for your permission. You thread your finger through the silken tresses of his hair and lightly scratch across his scalp. You can only feel the groan rumbling against your lips when you allow him to lick into your mouth and you immediately decide that you need to actually hear it. You are sure that the sound of that husky timbre breathing out in a rapturous moan will haunt you for the rest of eternity, and you could not wait to hear it. 

He cups your face in a single hand, securing your head with the curl of his fingers, allowing him to slant the plush of his mouth against you in an angle that let him to pull you in closer, enfolding you into the warmth of his chest. And the remaining doubt and restraint that had seemed to hold you two back was quickly beginning to melt, giving way to carnal sort of urgency. And already you are left panting, sweeping your hands across any part of him that you can, gripping the watery flow of his robes to center yourself through it all. 

You had not felt yourself tipping but your back is now pressed against the textured terrain of the Dreaming, the crushed stalks of reeds and flowers lightly digging at your skin, though it does little to take precedence over your current focus. And he is pulling away from your mouth to duck his head neath your chin, nipping and sucking at the skin there until its tender and you can tell by the way that he tucks your flesh between his teeth and licks that he is leaving marks in his wake, staking his claim upon your body and the mere idea of it has you lowly keening into the night; your body going lax underneath his. All things considered; he has not done much but your brain is already clouding with want, eyes glazing over. And then the heat of his mouth is sealing over your breast, the silk texture of your robe only adding to the pleasure as his tongue circles around your taut nipple. You can't help the way that you arch into it, seeking out more mindlessly but it is not enough. It is does little more than tease you, even with the way that he has draped himself over you he has himself suspended in a way that keeps you from being able to achieve the friction that you desire, stoking that heat inside you with eat nip and suck from his teeth and mouth. 

You can hear him chuckling from above you, the vibrations of his low smug amusement tingling across your chest, adding to your pleasure. If you were not so preoccupied with thoughtlessly trying to grind against his abdomen like a whore, you might have snapped at him for it, but instead you are removing your hands from the rich earth to sweep through his unruly hair, holding him against you instead, melting underneath the feel of his tongue. 

He does not let you have that for long either, releasing the swell of your breast and ducking from your grip, nuzzling a path down the plain of your abdomen and taking your thighs into the smooth glide of his hands, ignoring your protesting cry as he licks at your stomach from over the barrier of the silk. And once again you find yourself cursing that dreadful fabric, swearing into the night while you squirm in his hands. 

"Easy, sweet thing. " He coos, the image of patience. And if not for the wild, glow twinkling in both of his eyes like a beast you would not even think he was affected in the way that you are. That burning light serves as a reminder that he is not normal man, that you are rabbit ensnared within the jaws of a wolf, a mortal lying with a god. But it does not frighten you anymore. Instead, it douses fuel over an already steady flame. And you find yourself hoping to be consumed, taken between the teeth of this dark, cosmic deity and eaten alive. 

His descent does not stop, the point of his nose dragging down until it stops over your mons pubis and your whole body tenses in anticipation, waiting for him to move just a bit lower, to bundle your skirts in his hands and take you into his mouth. But he does not do any of that. He simply hovers there. His clutch on your thighs tightens, threatening to turn your flesh tender and you swear that you can feel the points of talons pricking at you, but it is too dark from the cover of the moonless night to see if he truly has grown claws in his passion - if they have drawn blood. Not that you would have minded if they had. You wanted it. Wanted his claim visible on your body, open to be seen by anyone who may gaze upon you. A trickle of concern does make it through the honeyed smoke of your want, as fleeting as it is, and it is quickly forgotten. Casted aside at the sound of a soft repetitive panting filling the silence. It does not take you long to realize that it is coming from him. He is breathing in your scent, hovering over the heat of you to take lungful's of your arousal. 

It is completely debased. Dirty. But the sight of a this primordial being kneeling between your legs and drawing in the scent of you in this perverted display that you would expect from man and not a god has you moaning into the air. Your cunt throbs, clenching around nothing while you rock your hips near his mouth. His grip tightens once again, smarting your skin while he tries to pin your body even while he chases the shift of your hips. And for one moment you think that he may finally ease both of your discomfort, feed the hunger ravaging your bodies but then horribly, he is pulling from you, leaving you to pant into the open air in a confused daze. "Why did you stop? "

"Let me taste you. " He said thickly, and his eyes shimmer again like the stars suspended in the heavens behind him. "Let me drink from you- worship you." 

His words have your mouth going dry and that aching heat pooling between your thighs. Never in your life have you ever known a man so desperate to pleasure you. To practically beg for it with a barely concealed avidity. That an Endless would ask for your permission. But he is no man after all. And you are nodding once again, but he does not move until the echo of that old sentence chimes in your head, use your words, you remember, and you manage to utter a rushed, "please" out from a shaky huff.  

He rumbles in a pleased way, the Dreaming trembling lightly with the resonance of his satisfaction. You hardly have time to blink before your ceremonial garb all but vanishes, baring you to the soft breeze and then a soft warmth enveloping your wet cunt, leaving you to jerk in surprise and scramble to grab something, anything to tether you. You claw at the field, the soil, before combing them into his hair while you gasp. All the while he is completely immovable, fixed to you throughout your writhing, lapping at your slit to collect the taste of you on his tongue and drink it down with a content purr, before licking up so that he can suckle your clit into the clutch of his mouth. Prompting that heady warmth to drizzle up on top of itself within the base of your abdomen. 

He alternates between that for a few moments, completely unhurried as he switches between lapping at your slit and sucking at your engorged bundles of nerves. And then his tongue is slipping inside of you, working along the walls of your cunt in a way that has your eyes rolling and your back bowing in a taut seize. But it does not stop. Extending into an inhuman length. It is thick and textured near its base, working so deep inside that you have to cry out. The repetitive drag and pull of it ushering you to roll your hips to match its delicious rhythm, building up a rising tide, dangling you over the precipice of something debilitating. 

"Oh gods - I - " 

But he is jerking away from you leaving your cunt to squeeze around the absence of his tongue, biting into the meat of your thigh like he has to preoccupy himself or else he will bury his face back into your heat like you so desperately want him to. You clumsily prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him and the intensity of his gaze would have been intimidating if you were not in your current position. 

"Why did you stop?!" 

"When you come in will be with my name on your lips, " and something possessive layers the rich rumble of his tone. It is heavy and bears no room for argument, but you have no wish to do so. "Say it." 

"My Lor- " But his pointed glare is enough to cut you off, but you find yourself yelping from the reprimanding nip at your sensitive skin. It did not hurt but it took you by surprise regardless. 

"My name." He repeats carefully, and laves his tongue over the dull sting to soothe it, all without breaking eye contact, keeping you within the scope of his watch. And it takes you a moment to sift through his abundance of monikers and titles, trying to think past the sensation of his teeth and lips on you, but you finally manage to settle the same one that the Priestesses would often whisper with reverence. 

"Morpheus. " 

A pleased hum greats you and then blessedly he is spreading you open with his thumbs to subject you to the calculated, blissful lashing of his tongue. And you allow yourself to fall back onto the ground in a boneless heap, easily falling back underneath the sway of that fuzzy Elysian pleasure. Unrestrained moans now freely spilling from you, but you cannot find it in yourself to be the least bit embarrassed by the way you openly keen and whine in bliss. You head tips as you toss in reckless abandon, staring up almost sightlessly at the star cluttered sky. And in your drunken haze your mind oddly remarks that the twinkling stars remind you of peering eyes. But before the thought can take flight a strange sensation is enveloping you, like the brush of water rushing over you. Rolling textured waves, feathered touches and the brush of fingers. 

Hands, a distant thought supplies weakly. It does feel like hands. Thousands of them all scattered about your body. Running over your hips, your stomach, your chest, your throat. And then it feels as though a pair of mouths are taking your breasts into them, and you just barely manage to jerk your head up to confirm that Morpheus is still nestled between your thighs, slurping at your messy cunt even while those phantom hands and mouths stroke over your body, sucking at your nipples in a way that has a gutted moan tearing out of you. 

He is watching you from his place between your legs and the gleam of his eyes are nothing short of smug, taking absolute pride in the way that he is unraveling you at the seams. 

Your body moves as though it is possessed. Writhing like it can't decide which sensation it wants to arch into; the ghostly grasp of a thousand hands or the needy, warmth of his mouth. 

And the squelch of his tongue is sinful, noisily plunging into you. Its passage completely frictionless with the combination of his saliva and the way your cunt drips around the intrusion. He takes the meat of your ass into his physical hands, guiding the jerky rock of your hips into something deeper while he drinks you down, swallowing the obscene slick of your coupling down his throat. And you are babbling now, unable to recognize or understand the scattered way that you beg and cry. Lost to drift in the ceaseless ecstasy, a willing prisoner forced to take it. It feels as though your mind is breaking around the edges, fraying from the sheer scope of your pleasure, leaving you a weightless passenger, no longer held within the restraints of your own body. You soul is alight, burning and drowning in a rapture so sweet that you have no choice but to sob from it all. 

"Morpheus - " You choke around the raged heaving of your chest. And the hands on your body are joined by the phantom lapping of tongues, invisible teeth nipping at your skin and the mouths on your breasts pull and tweak at your nipples. The pleasure is too much, too great for you to fully comprehend and that wave is climbing once again, hurtling you towards that cliff. And now you are begging - pleading that he does not stop and leave you wanting. His name falls freely from you now, and endless mantra pleading for him to guide you into the sweep of fire and bliss. 

You barely feel it approaching. Suddenly your body is tensing, going rigid underneath the curl of his tongue and your thighs clamp around his head while you sob through the convulsions wracking through you. Completely swept up in a tide of heat and electricity. But he has not pulled away from your cunt, still nuzzled between the clutch of your thighs while he drinks your come with a satisfied sigh. The vibrations of it combined with the idle way that he continues to lap at you despite the sensitivity and it has your muscles twitching in response. 

"Morpheus, please. " You gasp underneath him, and he finally pulls back from you, albeit reluctantly before he is crawling over you, leaving gentle pecks across your body as he moves. And you can still feel those phantom touches across you, but they are feather light now, melting into the background as his lips meet yours in a hungry kiss. It has you moaning into his mouth, and even with your recent orgasm you can already feel a syrupy heat building up within you coaxing the gentle rock of your hips. You can taste yourself on his lips, earthy and somewhat sweet. The weight of his arousal presses against you from underneath his robes, heavy and hot and the Dreaming thrums with his want, the soil trembling beneath you both. 

You reach a hand down to paw at him through the dark fabric of his chlamys and the smoky, ragged groan that escapes him is a reward all in its own. And you were right. The sound of his breathless, rumbling satisfaction is something that you will never tire of hearing, and you are already desperate to drag more from him. But what truly has your attention is the length of him. You are unable to see it from the cover of his robes, but you can feel it, the thickness of it, the length. And you drag your thumb around its head, the cloth clinging to the shape of his cock from the precum leaking from the tip. He jerks in your hand, breaking your kiss to duck his face into the crook of your neck, sucking at the skin, prompting you to moan breathlessly. 

"I need you inside of me. " You whisper unsteadily. 

"Take what you need. " Comes his response as he mouths along your neck, taking your ear lobe into his mouth and pulling it between his teeth. Just as yours had, his robes vanish from his body, baring himself for you admire. And admire you do. Gazing upon the milky hue of his skin. The lithe muscle that ripple and flex and the added detail of blue vessels spidering underneath his flesh. Your eyes drop lower, settling on his cock, and the tip has flushed red from his arousal, and you briefly entertain the idea of taking him into your mouth, tasting him on your tongue as he had done to you. But the throbbing heat that has settled between your thighs is the only thing that keeps you from doing so. You need finally feel him and so you are gently pushing at his chest, guiding him to remove his head from your neck and to lie on his back. And he allows you to so - a god obeying your wishes. 

His gaze does not stray from you, even as he settles against the ground and allows you to climb astride his lap. Now that you are here atop him you find yourself wavering under the intimidation of your self-imposed task. It is a stupid thing to be fearful of. You have done this before. But those was a man, not an immortal deity that has seen centuries come and go, watched curiously as humanity's ancestors evolved and give way to empires the ultimately rose and fell. You are sure that he has lain with deities beyond your comprehension. Gods and goddesses, nymphs and spirits, pure divine beings from the heavens. How could you compare? How could you possibly please him? Would he want you even as a tainted woman? 

And as though he can sense your discomfort, he sweeps his hands along your hips, the action breaking through your internal struggle, and he is once sitting himself up enough to plant a kiss between the valley of your breasts. And then he is guiding you to look down on him with the gentle brush of his fingers, fixing your attention solely on him. 

"Take what you need. " He reiterates. But it is not said in a scathing or annoyed way, it is gentle, loving you want to believe, and you nearly melt against him. Those ghostly touches are back, no doubt an attempt to draw you out of your head. And it is working to stoke the fire, the fervor returning to your bones, but your mind still struggles to return you, still tangled within the confines of your insecurities. You could not manage to pin them down no matter how hard you tried to. 

"Speak to me, " he murmurs against your skin. "What troubles you?" 

"I - " you choke around the shakiness in your chest. You want to speak but it is difficult to do so around the rock in your throat, the disconnect between your head and your tongue stalling the words before they can even truly form. He begins to circle his thumbs against your hips. It is no longer sexual but completely tender, meant to coax your feelings from you rather than your desire and it does serve to ground you somewhat, offering you some clarity to articulate yourself. " I - you do know that I'm not . . . " You trail off and you attempt to meet his curious gaze, but you find your own quickly darting away, scanning the kaleidoscope fields that surrounds you like it might help you find your courage.  " . . . What if I'm not good enough?" 

His expression becomes stormy.  Something menacing and severe and it is a stark reminder of the darker side of his nature. He had been so gentle and giving with you that it had been easy to forget the depths of his anger, and for a moment you had feared that you somehow managed to offend him personally. His lips have pursed in that cross way, his eyebrows pinched, and you would have anticipated him molding himself into wicked shadows and talons, if not for the flash of something soft showing through the cosmic blue of his eyes. 

"Have I not worshiped you thoroughly enough?" He asks, but he does not necessarily sound affronted out of concern of his own pride but rather disappointed that he did not please you. The mere notion of that could make you scoff; you were certain that he ruined you for anyone else. No man would be able to touch you in the way that he had. And now you were opening your mouth to reassure him, but he is responding before you can utter a single word. " Then allow me to rectify my transgressions." 

And you whole heartedly expect him to once again knock you on your back and take you, but he does not. He keeps you secured on his lap, grip firm but not controlling and fixes you with a stare that seems to hold you open and reach inside, melting at your frayed vulnerabilities. "Now. Take what you need."  His voice has dipped into something deep and orotund, clearly enunciating to make sure that his intent is clearly broadcasted. And the intensity that he projects is enough to pull you back into the moment, his power coursing over the Dreaming and rippling at its seams. But it is more than that too. He has been nothing but gentle with you this entire night. Patient. Without judgement. And it is as though he has been plucking you apart piece by broken piece, stuffing you full of sunlight and helping you mend your shattered edges. Not fixed or magically repaired, but it is the closest you have felt to peace and adoration in a long time. And you feel like you are choking on the affection that he openly displays. The want and the need. 

You become startlingly aware of the way that your cunt drips, come smearing the insides of your thighs while that warm honeyed ache steadily thrums within your abdomen. And it is difficult to ignore it now. The sheer scope of your desire could smother you, threatening to take you under and drown you. Everything else after that is instinctual -needy. You take his face in your hands, smashing your lips to his in a bruising kiss trying your best to project your emotions into the exchange of tongue and teeth, stroking the sharp edges of his cheek bones with the same reverence that he had shown you. And you blindly reach down to take the rigid heat of him in your grip, throbbing and wet with a steady flow of precum, and he rewards you with a heady groan when you circle your thumb around the leaking slit of his cock. 

You are quick to line him up with your entrance, and without little fanfare sink down onto him. The relief that comes with the fulness of his girth tears ragged sighs from the both of you.  And you give yourself little time to adjust before your already working yourself down his length, toes curling when the blunt head of his cock brushes against that devastating spot inside of you that has you jerking from him to gasp into the night. And unable to ignore the all-consuming passion that takes you over, the pulsing, electrifying power that permeates around Morpheus you draw yourself up with the strength of your thighs, using the push you can achieve from planting your feet on the ground to bounce on his cock in a hedonistic display. 

It is debased and vulgar, fucking out in an open field, in the soil like animals. Completely lewd, but so right. 

Morpheus lies back against the ground on his own accord, reclining like spoiled royalty and allowing you to plant your hands on his chest to assist you to deepen each thrust, letting you take from him. And already his name is spilling from your lips like a hymn while you watch the Dream King with rapt attention, enthralled by every minute expression that flickers across his schooled features. The way that his eyebrows pinch together, how dim but eager pants puff past his open mouth, the dazed sort of pleasure that shows in his eyes while he gazes upon you like you're a deity that has descended down from Mount Olympus, a nymph fashioned from Aphrodite herself to encapsulate his every wish. 

And those delicious, invisible hands have returned to roam about your body in their sweet exploration, plucking at your body like it is an instrument that they have played for years. The sound of your coupling rings across the Dreaming, the smack skin against skin, your unrestrained moans. It all has that thick, deep-rooted ache spreading further throughout your body, reaching from your core and all the way to your fingertips and toes. But there is something missing, a nudge needed to push you over the edge. "Morpheus, " you cry weakly, thighs already beginning to sting from exertion, but you refuse to stop, continuing to drop yourself on his cock, working tight circles with your hips with each descent. 

You can see something smug bleeding into his features, your neediness nurturing his hubris, and his lips quirk in just the faintest hints of a barely there smile. 

"What is it, my love?" He asks, feigning ignorance and it irritates you how put together he sounds, voice having dropped into a low, rumbling cadence, but apart from that he sounds seemingly unaffected despite the glazed over quality to his gaze. You whimper around a particularly harsh thrust from him that has your back bowing, pushing your breasts into the palms of ghostly hands. Your eyes nearly go cross at the drag of his cock, but you manage to keep your concentration around the sweeping torrents of smoke and ecstasy. 

"Please!" you keen drunkenly. "Please, I need you! " 

A satisfied purr resonates underneath your palms and his pupils flash in that pale tantalizing, dangerous way and you cannot believe that the look of it had frightened you at some point. Now it only serves to pool more liquid heat down the base of your spine. A heaving mewl is all but punched out of you when he takes you by surprise, using his place along the ground to thrust up into you with wicked rolls from his hips. Fucking up into you with a ferocity that has you struggling to meet his pace, and you are hardly more than a passenger at this point. All coherence is stripped from you and your entire body feels like it has been doused in honey and fire, and the timbre of his raspy voice speaking out only serves to nudge you closer to your undoing. 

"You'll stay here with me, won't you?" 

"Yes!" You agreed in a slurred whine. 

"And you'll give yourself to me?"

"Yes!" You are near sobbing now, body jerking and writhing atop him while the phantom touches roll your nipples between soft fingertips, and his cock pumps into you with depraved, filthy squelches of your combined arousal. And that primordial energy is pulsating around the Dreaming. The same power that creates the ground you both lay upon, that fashions the field and the sky above you too, permeating from the deity that is currently fucking every shred of a possible thought from your brain. And the power feels charged now, like it is growing and expanding into something great, seeping into your skin and soaking your bones. Then a transparent grip is taking your jaw between its fingers, directing your gaze to the god underneath you, and another slips down your stomach, reaching down to drag tight circles around your neglected clit. 

"Then come." It is a command that your body cannot ignore, seizing up tight, trapping the strangled wail deep inside your lungs while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. Your eyes roll into the back of your skull, stars exploding against the darkness there and you lose all sense of tangibility.  Your sense of time, place and self slip from perception like water pouring through spread fingers, and now you are just floating. Caught in bursting cosmos, pinned before the scalding light of the sun, caught in a torrent of arresting, unyielding rapture. And your cunt clamps down his cock like it means to milk him for all he is worth, your orgasm ushering him into his own and thankfully your coherence begins to return to you in time for you to admire him while he is subjected to the throes of his pleasure. And you are still gasping and moaning while his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated, observing as his eyelashes flutter and his mouth opens for a long husky moan to escape him as the warmth of his release pools inside of you. 

You all but collapse on top of him in a boneless heap and your cunt spasming weakly around his spent length but neither of you make any effort to move. Simply basking in the afterglow of your highs. It is your sense of touch and hearing that serve to orient you. The distant crash of waves rushing over the surf, the whisper of the breeze dancing across the grass and blossoms. And you can feel him underneath you. His chest is moving with a breath that you are certain is simulated for your own comfort, an attempt to appear more human. But he feels too heated and simultaneously too cold to be a person, like he has no idea which temperature to project. But you decide that it is not at all unpleasant, instead it feels good against your feverish skin. 

But you still wait for the sting of disappointment to strike you - for disgust to bleed and taint the satisfaction now that the lust has died, but it never rises to meet you. And so, you rest, satiated upon your god. Pliant like melted wax. But there is the insistent nudge of something burrowing at you. Concern, you quickly identify. And it has your sluggish mind wandering back to the root of the thought, trailing after it until it finds the conclusion which takes that shape of a memory. The memory of perhaps the only companion you have ever known, and it is bitter and sour reminder that they may not even be alive anymore. That centuries may have passed during your brief stay in the Dreaming, and that they may have succumbed to the passage of time. 

"What ails you now?" 

You want to say that it is nothing, sweep it aside and ignore it while it festers and grows. But you know now that he will not accept nothing as an answer, not when he can possibly feel your distress across the threads of the Dreaming. You feel foolish in your answer, but it is the only one that you can manage. " My cat. " 

"Your . . . cat. " He echoes slowly, and you are certain that amusement is lacing his tone. You bristle a bit preparing to defend yourself, your right for being worried, but he is nudging you from his chest so that you may see each other as you speak. 

"I can assure you that your companion is safe. He's quite content." He says. His gentle mirth still very much alive, but you do not return his light-hearted attitude, waiting with bated breath for him to answer the question that hangs heavy in the air. And a part of you fears that he may have somehow managed to converse with Death of the Endless, or that he was still connected to the passage of time that operates outside of the Dreaming and was able to deduce that the feline had long since passed, joining Teleute in the Sunless Lands. But then he is brushing a hand along his side, drawing your attention to his ribs where the skin there ripples like the surface of a disturbed lake, and a set of angry jagged scars emerge from the mirage, appearing across his pale skin, spanning from his armpit down to the notch of his hipbone. It is hauntingly familiar. The placement, the number of claw mark left in stretched healed tissue. One, two, three . . . four, you count. 

You understand what it is that he is implying. And betrayal sinks its enamel into your heart, but the bite is shockingly dull and not the unforgiving split that you were expecting. And you can tell that he is calculating something, surely waiting for you to lash out. To scream at him and demand that he take you home. Perhaps that is what you should do. But you do not. "How? Why did you- a cat?" Is all you manage, more perplexed than irate. 

"I had been injured by an old foe of mine, " he explains, allowing you to curl into his side, curiously running your fingertips over the marred flesh. And you have suppress a shudder, wondering what sort of being could be strong enough to injure an Endless. A god. "As for why I assumed that particular form, I needed to conserve energy. It was small. Familiar. It served to save much needed strength. " 

There has always been something strange about that cat and his watchful stare. Admittedly you had always swallowed down the suspicion that prickled at you whenever he had curled up within your house, but you had been too desperate for some sort of friendship to truly question anything. The barrage of emotions flooding you, making you a muddled unsure mess, but one thing that you do know for certain is that you are completely and undeniably relieved. And truthfully you are still far too tired, simply uncaring to have been tricked by the god. You are happy- actually well and truly happy to embrace the joy and serenity. 

"And then there was you, " he murmurs in your ear, devout and soft. 

The both of you remain there for an insurmountable length of time. Lounging in each other's embrace, delighting in your shared presence. Listening to the peaceful noise of the Dreaming and the warmth of your lover. And for the first time that icy gapping pit of loneliness no longer gnaws and tears at you. You finally feel at home, and the desire to flee and leave eludes you. Perhaps because you have finally found a place to belong.  

Here with him. 

[bvidzsoo]

Marionette

The second star of Cosmically divine...

☆ Author: bvidzsoo

☆ Pairing: Kang Yeosang x female reader

☆ Warning: nudity, cursing, consensual smut, corruption kink, blood, violence, cutting off a hand, allusion to pedophilia (but he pays for it lol karma is a bitch)

☆ Word count: 8.6k

☆ Rating: nsfw

☆ Genre: Greek mythology, Yeosang is Aphrodite's son, forbidden relation

☆ Summary: Doomed from the beginning, your mother, Hera, only saw a weapon in you. If you had once thought she loved you, she proved you wrong the second she cast you away once you failed to kill her enemy's son. Yeosang, Aphrodite's dearest and most prized offspring.

☆ A/N: Hii, lovelies! Second instalment of this series is here, and I swear to God this is the last time I write it in one setting bcz my wrist is falling off currently lol. I really really like this part, I am so curious to hear what you all think of it ! I genuinely appreciate your feedback, and the ones you've left on the previous part legit had me giggling and in tears, I love you all! <3 The taglist is still open, so lmk if you want to be added to it. This is a small side note, but I've read not too long ago a Yungi story that is absolutely amazing and is a Greek mythology au, and whenever I'm writing a part for this series I get reminded of it, so, let me share it with you if you are curious to read it, it's so good!! I'll point out a few things before I let you read the story:

★ This is inspired by Greek mythology, but I took creative liberty and adapted it to my likes, so keep that in mind while reading, thank you! ★ Aphrodite is the Goddess of love, beauty, desire, and all aspects of sexuality ★ Hera is the Goddess of marriage, women, and family, and the protector of women during childbirth ★ Athena is the Goddess of war, handicraft, and wisdom and the patroness of Athens ★ Hades is the God of the underworld ★ Dionysus is the God of wine-making, orchards and fruit, vegetation, fertility, festivity, insanity, ritual madness, religious ecstasy, and theatre ★ Tartarus lies far beneath the disk of the world, under Hades' underworld, it's used as the ultimate of prisons, unpleasant and inaccessible ★ Elysian Fields is part of the underworld and is where the good go ★ Athenai are a group of women who followed and worshiped Athena ★ Dion is a village and municipal unit in the municipality of Dion-Olympos in the Pieria regional unit, Greece; it's known for its sanctuary of Zeus and its ancient city (definitely give it a visit if you're in the area!) ★ (Athens is the capital city of Greece) ocean divider; greek divider

☆ Taglist: @patchofblue @sthwaaberry @constipatedcorgi @holytidalwavechees3cake @cheolliehugs

@slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @hoeforsungie @madebysvt

༄ ҉ Series m.list ༄ ҉ 　★ previous star ★ 

            Right by the foothill of Mount Olympus and just a few hours away from the lively village of Dion, hidden in a little meadow of the evergreen forest, almost a day long walk from Lake Naia, lay the fun house of Dionysus. Men and women, Gods and Goddesses were welcomed here, scrutinizing and judgmental eyes turning into indifferent and lustful ones, whatever your heart desired a possibility to become reality if whispered to the right person or deity. Selfless and desperate men found solace in the caresses of nymphs that ventured down from Mount Olympus to the fun house, desperate to get away from the clutches of merciless deities that took advantage of them at the smallest chance given. Gods and Goddesses who were tired of the mistreatment enabled by their superiors and were in desperate need of a night where they could let go, often stumbled through the threshold of the fun house. Dionysus loved calling it a fun house because that’s what it truly was, a house that offered you whatever you had in mind when you thought of the word fun. It came in the form of alcohol, music, entertainment and dancing, but it also came in the form of wanton moans, desperate touches, and whispered climaxes. Whatever you had in mind, you’d probably find it at the fun house. The wine was unlimited here as long as you left something of yours behind and promised to return for another fun time, making you rather addicted to the feeling of adrenaline coursing through your veins as you anticipated your reward. Whether this was in the form of a beautiful nymph or innocent maiden, a hunky man that liked it rough or a young lad whose touch was soft, or perhaps the unlimited alcohol that intoxicated your mind and sometimes killed you before your time…it was all the visitors choice. Dionysus took great pleasure in watching the mere mortals crumble at his feet, and he loved it even more when he managed to break a deity beyond the point of madness.

Everyone here knew who I was. The empty jug lay next to my hand almost mockingly as my eyes bore into the table, head slightly buzzing and ears ringing from the loud music the few drunken musicians attempted to play. The harp had a beautiful sound if in the hands of someone that could yield it, but the one mortal that attempted to play it here made it sound borderline scratchy, fingers caressing the strings rather unprofessionally. Despite how crowded the fun house was, not a soul took it upon themselves to share a table with me, and I understood why. I wasn’t necessarily here for company, especially not that of a man, but it would’ve felt nice to lay my worries upon an ear willing to listen. I knew the sharp daggers secured onto the belt around my waist intimidated men, but I expected women to be more than willing to share stories with me. After all, it wasn’t a secret to anyone that I was part of the Athenai, Athena’s loyal followers, the leader of a cult that brought forth possibilities for women eager to become more than what their society instilled on them.

A rather young girl passed by the table, head hanging low as she clutched the large jug of wine to refill the thirsty men’s glasses, and I watched closely as she walked between the tables, pouring more wine for the one’s asking. She was young, too young for a place like this, but I figured her family was living scarcely and they needed every little penny they could get. Knowing the nature of the men that were so eager to frequent places as such, it came as no surprise when the young girl’s shoulder was clutched by a calloused hand, yanking her back violently. The girl’s eyes widened in panic as she looked up, clutching the jug to her chest as if afraid to spill anything. It was pure instinct by now to draw my weapons at the sight of a female getting harmed, and it came as no surprise when I felt my blood boil underneath my skin. The man that dared touch the little girl was laughing, gripping her chin and trying to force her to sit down at his table filled with six more men, all watching her with a predatory glint in their eyes. Athena has taught me her virtues, has passed her beliefs onto me, raised me as a strong and independent woman, one that would not sit idly by and watch an innocent soul get harassed, especially if so young. The cult of Athenai have sworn celibacy to Athena, and have sworn to protect maidens and women in dire danger until their last breath.

I moved stealthily, barely leaving a breeze in my wake as I stood from the table, eyes burning anyone that dared look my way, right hand gripping the handle of my most loved dagger. Hephaestus was a marvelous craftsman, every piece of armor was designed by Athena and myself, and then later on perfected and strengthened by him. I had great trust in my weapons and my abilities, having led a war by Athena’s side more than once. As I made my way towards the table full of vile men, the little girl’s body had started shaking as she struggled to fill their glasses with wine, the man that was holding her had his hand sliding down her fragile body. I tensed my muscles and willed my mind to remain focused, knowing that if I saw red right now, not even one man would leave this house in one piece. As a quiet and scared whimper left the young girl’s lips, my jaw clenched and I unsheathed my dagger, the other men sitting at the table finally noticing me as I came into their vicinity.

A wide smirk stretched onto my lips as I saw the terror in their eyes, and before they could alert their companion harassing the young girl, my dagger had long come down against the nimble skin of the man, the steel cutting through his flesh and bones, severing the hand he had on the table. The cry that left his mouth was gut-wrenching and it made everyone stop in their tracks, eyes wide as the lively music had cut off at once, the young girl jumping away with watering eyes as the man tried to stand and whirl around. But I just chuckled and grabbed his greasy hair, yanking his head back as I pressed my sharp dagger against his neck, making him suddenly become still. His chest was heaving and he had broken out into a cold sweat, whole body shaking as blood gushed out of his severed limb. I leered, leaning down close to his ear.

“You are in great luck tonight, my friend,” I hissed against his ear, his body reeking of alcohol and grime, “I cannot kill you unless you do something unforgivable, but that doesn’t mean I cannot teach you a lesson, you stupid mortal.”

The man had started sobbing, snot running down his nose and into his mouth as he tried to splutter out apologies, his companions frozen as they didn’t know whether to help him or not. I pressed my dagger just a little more against his skin, making sure to draw blood as the man cried out in agony again, making me grin widely as I released him, but not before banging his head against the table hard enough to knock him out. His companions jumped to their feet and rushed over to the passed-out man as I turned my head to search for the young girl, finding her cowering behind a woman that was silently crying. I wiped down the blood from my dagger onto the white cloth I had hidden in my pocket as I walked towards the two, motioning for the woman to step aside. She did so quickly, revealing the young girl to me. I sighed as I leaned down to be eye level with her, gently wiping her tears off her face.

“Do not cry child, you’re safe now.” I muttered to her gently, unlatching a satchel from my belt, “Take this and head to Athens tomorrow, take your family with you if needed. Pray to Athena tonight and tell her that her most trusted apprentice saved you from a vile man, ask for her blessings and protection.”

“Won’t she want something in return?” The girl’s voice was shaky as she reluctantly accepted the coins, probably the sum more than she’s ever made here at the fun house. I smiled and gave a pat to her head as I stood up straight again.

“You are a smart girl; Athena will like that.” I hummed, fixing her hair behind her head, tilting her chin up to look in her eyes, “If you wish to be strong and able to protect yourself, all you have to offer to Athena is a promise to remain a maiden, child, and she will have you. You’ll thrive under her cult and you’ll have a good life in Athens.”

Gratitude graced the young girl’s face and she bowed her head deeply, bending at her middle to go even lower, making me smile at her display of gratitude, “Thank you, my heavenly protector.”

I chuckled as I gave a last pat to the girl’s head, looking around the still deadly silent fun house. I grinned and took my leave, knowing that the mood would be ruined as I wasn’t welcomed anymore for the night. When I reached the door, I turned around and bowed mockingly before I was out of the crowded and warm house, welcoming the cool breeze of the summer night. As the door closed behind myself, the music picked back up and the chatter and shouts resumed like nothing had happened, and I took a moment to clear my mind. I headed to the corner of the house and leaned against its structure, sighing as I looked up at the stary night, wondering whether I should return to Olympus now, or head back to Athens myself. But something snapped next to me and the unmistakable aura of an Olympian God invaded my sense, forcing my body to remain alert as I gently clutched the handle of my dagger.

“No need for that, dear,” I slightly relaxed at the familiar deep voice, but failed to spot the figure in the pitch-black night, “I am not here to harm you—or any of the women you protect.”

“Then why are you here?” I snapped back, growing a little irritated that the God wasn’t showing himself to me.

“I’m here to collect a very dear soul.” The deep voice answered back, sounding amused at my irritation as the nauseating scent of tobacco filled my nose. Sometimes, I wondered whether Death was timeless, whether he could travel between times unseen and unknown to us. Even as deities, we couldn’t predict the future nor if we truly were everlasting, but there was a glint in Death’s eyes that held secrets nobody but him knew about.

“I didn’t kill the man, you don’t have to snitch on me—” His deep giggle cut me off, and there he was, finally, showing himself to me as he stepped out of the shadows. His body was clad in a midnight black suit, tailored to fit his body perfectly as if it was his second skin. He had cut his hair shorter sometime not long ago, and it stood up in a way that made him look like he didn’t belong amongst us. Hades’ sharp eyes were crinkled as he smiled widely, his front teeth crooked as the cigar hung loosely between his teeth.

“I’m not here for that man,” Hades chuckled as the cigar bobbed with every word he said, “he’s going straight to Tartarus. I’m here for someone else.”

I followed his line of sight as he gazed inside the fun house through the window, eyes settling on an old man who was smiling and chatting by the bar with a beautiful young woman, “He’s lively, but his heart has weakened. I hope he hasn’t forgotten about our little trade back when he was still youthful and handsome.”

“You love making trades.” I sighed under my breath as I watched Hades grin, then take a long drag of his strongly smelling cigar. I never dared ask where he got those from, I never saw anyone else smoking them. It felt like it was somehow beyond me and our times, like it was better if I stayed naïve. Hades was an enigma nobody could fully decipher; it was best if you didn’t ask many questions. He had a way with his words, he could easily trick you into trades and deals that were only beneficial to him. The tale of signing your soul away to him unassumingly was more common than not, and I appreciated my life, cherished it dearly even.

“That I do, indeed.” He hummed, sharp and dark eyes falling on me again. He also loved flirting with people that he wasn’t supposed to flirt with, “Still worshiping the lovely Athena?”

I snorted under my breath, crossing my arms in front of my chest as I leaned against the building again, “It’s what I was created for.”

“Ah, yes,” Hades hummed, taking a long drag of his cigar, smoke wafting up in the air around us, “my bitch of a sister sure loves sending out other people to do the dirty work for her. If only Zeus wasn’t such a man-whore—”

“You speak rather freely, Mingi.” I narrowed my eyes at the God of death, interrupting what was supposed to be his inner monologue.

“Of course, I do.” He chuckled upon hearing his real name leave my lips, throwing the cigar onto the ground as he stepped on it. I’ve seen him do that many times, yet I still haven’t figured out why he did that, “What? What are they going to do to me? Banish me? Chase me away? Kill me? Death is everlasting, my dear, just as birth is. Even when you will stop existing, I’ll be still here. I’m one with Gaea. Unlike many of our kin, I do not need to be worshipped to exist.”

That made me think, made my mind dwell on thoughts that they weren’t supposed to dwell on, “Are you saying we won’t always be here?”

“I’d love to chat more with you, my dear.” Mingi smiled mischievously, his eyes narrowing into playful slits as he stepped closer, caressing my cheek gently. He was perhaps the only man that’s ever touched me—the one I willingly allowed to touch me—his touch lacking the lust no other man could even as much so as hide, “But my old man really needs to go now, and Hera’s called for you.”

“Are you stealing Hermes’ job now?” I chuckled, patting his hand before I removed it, dusting my hands off.

“No,” Mingi chuckled, shaking his head, “I’d rather die then be the messenger of these bored deities that love beefing with each other for no reason.”

“Do you reckon why my mother is asking for me?” I raised an eyebrow as I chuckled at Mingi’s humor.

“No idea, but she looked beyond devious.” He sighed, slowly stalking towards the entrance of the fun house, Dionysus would certainly hate that there would be two deities tormenting his fun house tonight, “Perhaps has something to do with lovely Aphrodite.”

I hummed, nodding my head in goodbye as Mingi disappeared inside, leaving me alone in the darkness of the night. Well, off to Mount Olympus I was.

            And Mingi was right, my mother did summon me due to something concerning Aphrodite. The palace was brightly lit despite it being after midnight by the time I made it home, and my steps were silent against the marble stones despite how lightly I walked. Athena made sure teach me that. As I had knocked on the door of my mother’s bedroom, it opened up instantly and allowed me inside. She sat on her sofa, snacking on some grapes as her two servants fanned her with big leaves, looking stoic and avoiding eye contact at all costs. My mother’s mouth pulled into a wide smile upon seeing me, her eyes a bright color and glimmering under the divine light. I fixed my posture and bowed my head in respect as I walked closer to her, the armor I wore completely the opposite of her satin indigo dress.

“Daughter,” She cooed, her voice warm and loud in the confines of her bedroom, “it’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

That was true, indeed, she only met me when she needed something from me. I wasn’t to any use for her unless she was sending me out to kill the people she didn’t like, or have tried to bewitch her bellowed husband. I have long come to terms with the fact that Athena was more of a motherly figure than my own mother would ever be.

“Indeed, mother, how may I help you this time?” I asked emotionlessly, resting my hand on the handle of my dagger as it brought me comfort.

My mother chuckled as she raised her hand, the servants stopping their actions, “Out.”

They wasted no time in scurrying out, and I watched as they bowed deeply to my mother then to me, and fled the room at last. My mother sat up, pushing her dark brown hair behind her shoulders, her satin dress falling down on one shoulder. She was a Goddess almost as beautiful as Aphrodite, Hera could have anyone she wanted. Many worshipped her and tried to whisk her away from Zeus, but she only had eyes for that tyrant.

“Well, now that it’s just the two of us,” Hera chuckled, her expression twisting into something sly, “I’m sure you’ve heard of Aphrodite’s children, my daughter.”

“I have.” I confirmed as I raised an eyebrow at my mother. I have even met a few, but they weren’t very likeable, much like their mother.

“What about Yeosang?” My mother’s voice dripped with venom, palms curling into fists.

“Mere tales whispered by naiads is all I know of him.” I answered, gulping when my mother raised to her feet, a deity easily taller than most men. She stepped off her pedestal and slowly approached me, hand extending as she cupped my cheek. Unlike Mingi’s tender caress, hers was cold and borderline painful.

“I have a very important mission for you, my daughter.” My mother’s eyes sparkled with a vicious glint, teeth showing as she leered, “Someone had spoken ill of poor Aphrodite and she wants the man dead. But we know she never directly dirties her hands, and instead sends one of her children. Yeosang is her most prized child, my daughter, I need you to go find him, and kill him.”

I withheld the snort that threatened to bubble past my lips, impressed by my mother’s ignorance and the irony of her words. Wasn’t she sending me out to take care of her dirty business? The hatred between the two Goddesses runs deep, the two never settling their differences and finding ways to torment not just each other, but those around themselves as well. I was raised to hate Aphrodite, by my mother at least, because Athena’s teachings taught me different things. I wasn’t supposed to hate no woman, nor Goddess, but my mother couldn’t know that. I was more loyal to Athena than to her anyway.

“Is he going down to the mortals?” I questioned and pulled my head back slowly to get rid of my mother’s uncomfortable caress against my cheek. She hummed, giving me a scrutinizing look as her eyes took me in, a small grin spreading onto her lips.

“You’ve become a fine warrior, my daughter, I knew handing you over to Athena was a smart choice.” My mother sighed happily, eyes hardening at once, “You cannot fail me, my daughter, Aphrodite never lets Yeosang out of her sight, this is your one and only chance to kill him for me, do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.” I bowed my head and my mother hummed, turning her back to me as she walked back towards her sofa.

“He’s in Dion, you’ll find him at the brothel in the East side of the village.” She sat back on her sofa, snapping her fingers as the doors opened instantly, the two servants rushing back inside, “And do not worry about recognizing him, you’ll know once you see him. He resembles Aphrodite a lot.”

And perhaps my mother hated that even more than the fact that Aphrodite was more beautiful than her. I didn’t worry about recognizing Yeosang, amongst mortals, an Olympian could be easily picked out in a crowd.

            Life in the village compared to the life of the Olympians was rather lamentable. Few people were well-off to live in spacious mansions that resembled the homes of the Olympians, as most of these mortals lived in humble and small cottages. But no matter how poor or rich, the nightlife in Dion never lacked as inns and brothels were overfilled with rowdy and insatiable people. I had disguised myself as a maiden of the village, a simple white dress that’s seen better days replacing the armor that felt like a second skin and brought me comfort. I felt exposed as my dark hair flowed freely against my shoulders and back, making me more vulnerable as anyone could easily grab onto it. The only time I wore it like this was when I bathed, in a battle you couldn’t allow anything to distract you. The sleeves of my dress were long, covering my arms as my two daggers were strapped tightly against the inner parts of them, I would never willingly bear myself vulnerable around anyone I didn’t trust.

Since I was disguised, nobody could tell that I was Hera’s daughter and Athena’s apprentice, making men boldly approach me and try to flirt their ways into bedding me for the night. I hated every single second of it, narrowly avoiding their touches and turning down their offers in a charming manner, not wanting to anger anyone and draw attention onto myself before I was done with what I was here for. The brothel was overspilling with people at the ungodly hour of the witches, and it turned out to be a hard task to find Aphrodite’s son, Yeosang. I didn’t know who I was looking for, but I would know upon seeing him. After walking around and watching the crowd carefully, I let the people push me towards the bar as I ordered a pint of beer for myself, leaning against the surface as I surveyed the crowd once again. The music was loud and the dancing people grew in number as others disappeared upstairs, occupying the empty rooms for mere seconds of pleasure. I had just taken a sip of the rather bitter beer, when an overwhelming feeling of warmth made me look up alarmed. I narrowed my eyes as I tried to pinpoint the direction it was coming from, my blood boiling underneath my skin as a weird sense of calmness tried to push through my alert disposition. My heart was racing and my ears had started ringing at once, and I knew the few sips of beer weren’t the cause of it. I was in the presence of another divinity. And upon realizing this, through the dancing people emerged an ethereal looking man.

The seemingly white glow that no mortal seemed to notice was almost alarming, coating his skin fair and making it glow as the softest and gentlest smile settled on his blood-red lips upon noticing me. Even from a distance, his eyes were gentle and warm in color, golden swirling around his irises as he graciously walked closer, hands clasped in front of him. Somebody crashed into him, but instead of screaming and pushing them away, he continued smiling as his lips moved slowly, probably reassuring the person that it was no problem. His hair fell around his face in a light brown curtain, framing his forehead and cheekbones as his nose was petite, his jawline sharp. My grip tightened around the pint of beer, suddenly my heart racing in my chest as the warmth I have felt previously only worsened the closer the deity walked. I found myself struggling to intake air, as if the man had his grip around my throat, refusing me the air I desperately needed. His smile only widened as I felt my legs weaken, the man now standing in front of me. His scent was sweet like honey and roses, overpowering the unpleasant odor coming from the humans.

“Another deity,” His voice was deep, unlike his soft features and what you’d expect to hear from him, “it’s rare any comes down to this brothel.”

“You’re here too.” I found my voice, completely surprised by how breathy it sounded. I gulped and took a quick sip of my beer, hoping it would help fix the dryness of my throat. The deity, Yeosang, watched my action closely, chuckling lowly as his lips pursed. The longer I looked at his face, the more I understood why he was Aphrodite’s favourite child. He was beyond perfect and gracious, well-mannered, and soft spoken. Perhaps if Aphrodite didn’t exist, he’d be Aphrodite instead. But nobody, no mortal or deity, could be prettier than the Goddess of beauty herself, and I noticed with mild surprise that Yeosang had a blood-red discoloration around his left temple in the shape of an almost heart.

“Are you here to satiate your vices?” His warm eyes shifted onto the beer again, and I chuckled, looking down at it too. I had to play my part if I wanted to kill him tonight, therefore, I lied.

“Some vices you can never fully satiate.” My expression was serious as my eyes bore into Yeosang’s, “I am tired of the fakeness of the Olympians, I want to feel something real.”

Something alluring flashed inside Yeosang’s eyes as he, too, leaned against the bar, reaching out for my pint of beer, “Mortals are fun little toys—until they start playing Gods and want to replace you.”

“Good thing we are irreplaceable, then.” I grinned as Yeosang chuckled, bringing up the pint to his lips. They parted slowly, his gaze burning into mine, a heated feeling suddenly encompassing my whole being. I have never felt that before, and suddenly I was nervous. Could it be that Yeosang was manipulating me somehow? All deities had powers to a certain extent, but his and mine were limited, we weren’t any major God the mortals ardently worshipped. I tried to reassure myself that it couldn’t have been him as he slowly lowered the pint from his lips, placing it back onto the bar.

“A deity like yourself certainly cannot enjoy that vile thing?!” Yeosang sounded almost appalled as he pressed his bony fingers against his lips, making me chuckle as I pulled the pint back towards myself.

“Someone as sophisticated as yourself would enjoy wine, I suppose.” Yeosang blushed as he hid his mouth with his hand, averting his eyes down to the floor. I smirked, feeling victorious as I raised my hand for the waitress to come over. She was quick on her feet, thankfully, and I swiftly ordered a glass of wine for my prey. My plan was perfectly working out, I didn’t think it’d be so easy to lure him into my trap. Perhaps Aphrodite shouldn’t have kept her precious son so sheltered, he was too naïve for his own good, and it would bring his downfall tonight. As Yeosang shyly looked up, I fixed my expression, trying to look as inoffensive as I could.

“I have always believed there is no point in hiding who we are,” I tensed as Yeosang suddenly leaned forward, invading my personal space as the waitress delivered his glass of wine, “after all, at some point people see through your façade. It usually falls when you think others aren’t watching you, even if it’s the slightest crack, somebody will notice.”

Feeling speechless, I could only watch as Yeosang smiled shyly and took his glass of wine, murmuring a quiet thank you before he took a tentative sip of it. My heart hadn’t stopped hammering against my ribcage ever since he walked over, and I could only pray to Athena that I wouldn’t start sweating now. There was something about Yeosang’s aura that exuded calmness but alure at the same time, and I found it hard to make sense of these new emotions surfacing in my body. Everything tingled and burned, suddenly finding his proximity not close enough, needing him to push me up against a wall and devour me. If Athena were to hear these vile thoughts, she’d be just as disgusted by them as I was. I tried to gulp down the nausea rising up through my stomach, and as I opened my mouth to speak up, a man tumbled into Yeosang. His wine was almost spilled, but he saved it last minute as he helped the man stand up straight.

“Oh,” Yeosang whispered, face lighting up in recognition, “old friend! I thought I have forever lost you to the crowd!”

The man reeked of every odor one could think of, yet Yeosang went and placed his arm around his shoulder, pulling him into his side. I watched with furrowed eyebrows as the mortal hiccupped, eyes half lidded as he struggled to stand up straight. The glass of wine was abandoned as Yeosang’s full attention was on the man, and I took a deep breath as I felt my pulse quicken even more. I took a quick glance around myself to make sure nobody was watching us, and then reached inside my dress, finding the hidden vial between my breasts easily.

“You abandoned me, boy!” The man’s words were slurred as he clumsily exclaimed, and I acted in a swift moment, pouring the poison into Yeosang’s glass unnoticed. My fist curled around the vial until I crushed it into small shards, the pain never reaching my skin as it instantly turned into dust. I watched the poison quickly dissolve in Yeosang’s drink just as the deity chuckled and looked back at me. My eyebrows shot up as I quickly smiled, hoping I didn’t look suspicious.

“This old friend of mine loves dancing,” Yeosang chuckled as he maneuvered the man around so that they stood side by side facing me, “I had to abandon him for a while.”

“Yes, you did.” The man’s head fell a little forward before Yeosang steadied him, making me wonder just how strong the deity was. His muscles were lean and not bulging as most Gods liked to look like, yet it was unquestionable that he was rather strong as he held up the man twice his size.

“Old friend, tell me something.”

The old man perked up as he tried to open his eyes more, “What, boy?”

“The young lady you introduced to me earlier,” Yeosang’s smooth voice turned slightly darker, subtly sneering. My eyebrows furrowed as the soft expression swiftly slipped off his face, “what have you said to her?”

“Oh!” The drunk man exclaimed, lips pulling into a drunken smirk as he looked at me, eyes raking over my body. I wished to wipe out my daggers and gauge his eyes out, but tonight I had to behave, “That lady cannot be compared in beauty to anyone else, she’s more beautiful than Aphrodite herself.”

The air seemed to freeze around us as my breath halted. Yeosang’s smile turned cold, eyes narrowing as he hummed, his grip on the man’s shoulder visibly tightening, “Hmm, I see.”

I didn’t know what to do as Yeosang turned his head, one eyebrow raised as if in question. I cleared my throat and averted my eyes as I instead grabbed my pint and threw back the remained of my beer. Yeosang’s eyes slowly shifted onto his glass of wine and he paused, then reached out and took the glass. I watched with a hammering heart as he raised it up to his lips, then slowly tilted the glass, the wine almost touching his blood-red lips.

“Drinking in front of your elderly without offering it to them first?!” The old man coughed a little, giving Yeosang a glare as if his respect had been broken. Yeosang froze, then I watched in mild alarm as he lowered his glass, shooting the man an apologetic smile.

“Where have my manners gone?” He shook his head at himself and the man hummed. I opened my mouth to interject into their exchange, but instead felt my jaw fall open in shock as Yeosang forcefully grabbed the man’s chin and yanked it open, pushing his head back by it, pouring the wine down his throat aggressively. I gasped as I watched the man gargle and try not to choke on the poisoned wine, my palms turning into fists as my muscles tensed.

“There, you can have all the wine.” Yeosang snickered, throwing the empty glass onto the floor, it shattering loudly as he slowly turned his head, tilting it to the side. My eyes hardened in an instant as I noticed the change in his demeanor, the serene and innocent look gone from Yeosang’s face as he smirked, leaning towards me, “Those who speak my mother’s name in vain shall be punished, right, Y/N?”

There hasn’t been a time before where a man won over me. I was trained for war, I have fought battles that took the lives of hundreds of men, I have slain men who have mistreated women and yet…a pathetic son of a Goddess had me fumbling in panic as he released the old man who had started heaving for air, clutching his throat. Yeosang stepped back and watched as I caught the old man, eyes wide as the poison rather quickly brought him to his demise. I didn’t know what to do as his body started growing heavier, and when I made eye contact with Yeosang, he was already backing into the crowd with a poisonous glint in his eyes and a vicious smirk on his lips.

He had won this game.

I felt anger surge through my body, but I couldn’t act on my desires to chase after the deity and have his head. And so, I played the part of my disguise as I released the man. Then, I opened my mouth and shrieked.

            The slap stung no more than a battle scar yet had to, and still, my ego was bruised beyond my body has ever been. I gritted my teeth as I refused to cower under my mother’s seething eyes. Something broke next to us and I jumped, not used to my mother’s hysterical displays. Now I understood why Zeus never tried to anger her, and yet still failed miserably each time.

“You wench,” Hera hissed, grabbing my chin and yanking my head forward, “You’re good for nothing.”

I tried not to snort as I looked down, avoiding eye contact. I have never failed before. I was more than good, but she was too blinded by her childish hatred for Aphrodite to actually notice that.

“You are a disgrace and an abomination!” My mother continued to hiss, her grip turning painful on my chin, “Look me in the eyes, you stupid wench!”

Fury licked under my skin, igniting my veins and making me tense my muscles and calm my mind as I yearned to reach for my dagger and push it through her nonexistent heart. I gulped and looked up into her eyes, remaining emotionless like Athena had trained me.

“You are not my daughter.” Hera hissed, leaning in my face, “I banish you from my home, you are never to step foot inside my temple and sanctuary. Perish from in front of my eyes before I turn you into nothing.”

She pushed me away like I have burned her, and I gulped, biting down on my tongue to keep myself calm and level-headed. I didn’t want to turn into nothing, that I knew. So, instead, I bowed my head and took off towards the door, grabbing the handle of my dagger for comfort, “And to think I nourished you and cherished you for nothing.”

My grip faltered around the handle of the door and something coiled in my chest as I took a deep breath, trying to talk myself down from what was about to come out of my mouth. I ripped the door open and chuckled, turning my head to look smugly at Hera, “Thank fuck I won’t have to see your stupid face ever again, you hysterical bitch.”

The scream Hera let out only made me laugh as I slammed the door shut behind me, fury making my body feel like it was on fire. That feeling was only ever present when I was in battle, and protecting women. I felt my whole being vibrate as I left the stupid home of Hera, steps hurried as I knew who to seek out for guidance. I will find Yeosang and I will kill him, Athena may you be my guide and protect me in my quest.

            Hunting came as second nature; I could do it even with my eyes closed. The ground of the forest was solid underneath my feet and the trees tall and offering shade from the blazing sun as I swiftly advanced towards the meadow. There was nothing in this world I couldn’t track and hunt down. Man, woman, animal, deity. Athena had let me know in a whisper where Aphrodite’s pond resided, a place that only her, her nymphs, and Yeosang knew about. The deity often came here to spend the hot days of summer cooling off in the ever-clear Pond of Beauty. Aphrodite had created it herself for her offspring and those that she considered worthy of her treasure. The pond resided close by the foothill of Mount Olympus, on the territory of the Gods and Goddesses. No human could come here, unless they wished for a painful death.

My bow and arrow lay snuggly in my hands as I held onto them tightly, eyes narrowed as I listened closely to the sounds of the forest. The meadow was just one step ahead, I was hiding behind the bushes and the tall trees, eyes surveying the area before I looked out onto the meadow, the pond vast and its water glimmering under the sunlight that fell directly on it. Sweat had gathered on my brows as I took deep breaths, remaining calm as I noticed ripples on the surface of the pond, a head covered in light brown hair slowly surfacing. My heart started hammering against my ribcage as I watched the deity swim around in the pond, a serene look on his face as he seemed to be glowing in the sunlight, his light brown hair turning almost as golden as the swirls in his warm brown eyes. He floated around graciously, his milky skin translucent as it made contact with the water and the sunlight.

I tensed my muscles and drew my right arm back, aiming my arrow towards Aphrodite’s beautiful creation. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, tuning in to the sounds of nature as I relaxed my body, preparing to release the arrow the second my eyes opened. I felt my body move slightly, align in the direction Yeosang was, and I sighed quietly, feeling the warm breeze caress my skin tenderly all of a sudden. The birds seemed to sing louder here, the grass seemed to brush up against my ankles gently, and the breeze carried a soft smell of pomegranates, honey, and roses. I gulped, feeling my lips part in another quiet sigh as suddenly my ears started buzzing, my skin jittery out of nowhere. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, feeling a little unnerved as my body grew warmer and warmer, flesh burning underneath the heavy silver armor. I gulped and willed my mind to focus, to let go of everything that served as a distraction, and opened my eyes as my fingers holding the string had started slipping, about to release the arrow aimed towards the mesmerizing deity.

But when my eyes opened, my body froze as if someone else was controlling it. Yeosang’s brown eyes shone golden as they bore into mine even at the great distance, and I felt my fingers tremble as I reluctantly lowered my weapon. I struggled to breathe as I felt my legs moved forward, guiding me towards the pond, away from the safety of the trees and the high grass. There was something very wrong as my skin burned and my heart raced, and I couldn’t stop myself from approaching Yeosang. His blood-red lips pulled into a faint smile as my hand raised to undo my bun, my dark hair falling down and fawning my back as I sighed in content. Another step towards him had me unclasping the silver armor from around my torso, my hands trembling as I couldn’t look away from Yeosang. I felt drawn in, mesmerized, and charmed. A madman would say it was witchcraft, but I couldn’t tell what was happening to me.

Yeosang’s lips parted as he whispered something I couldn’t hear just yet, and I felt my hands undo the bindings of my corset as it soon fell from around my body, leaving it bare for Yeosang’s eyes to drink in my exposed skin. I shivered and my arms got covered in goosebumps as Yeosang’s grin turned wider, beckoning me into the pond as he extended one hand. My mind was screaming at me to stop, to unsheathe my dagger from my belt and throw it at Yeosang, but instead, my body moved on its own as I undid my belt and then the bindings of my pants, stopping for a second to push down the garment after I stepped out of my boots.

Yeosang’s tongue darted out to lick at his blood-red lips, and I gasped as my feet came in contact with the cold water of the pond. I was bare in front of a man, walking towards him, offering myself up to him. What I was doing was forbidden, I would be banished and probably killed, but I couldn’t stop. No matter how much I wanted to, my body didn’t stop moving towards Yeosang. The cold water clung to my overheated skin and my heart pounded in my chest as I couldn’t feel the soil underneath my feet anymore. I was forced to swim further inside the pond. I wanted to stop, but my body wouldn’t until it reached Yeosang. My lips trembled from both fright and the cold, and the closer I got to Yeosang, the wider his grin got. He was preening at me, eyes flashing golden like his hair in the sunlight, and suddenly, I was face to face with him. I shuddered out a breath, chest contracting as I tried to yank myself far away from him, but suddenly the water felt like it had hands and had immobilized me to my spot.

“Y/N,” Yeosang’s voice carried amusement, eyes twinkling in the same manner, “it’s rude to impose on someone that’s bathing.”

I couldn’t find my voice, my throat had gone dry, my whole body was trembling. I couldn’t be seen bare by any man or deity, I had to kill Yeosang. I would be never forgiven if I didn’t, if he touched me…I would be punished for an eternity.

“Why are you here?” He raised an eyebrow, lowering himself under the water until his eyes and hair were visible only. I tried to calm my frantic heartbeat, to regulate my breathing once again.

“I’m here to kill you.” I hissed out, eyes hardening as Yeosang pushed his head above water, giggling.

“Without your armor, you’re nothing but a woman, Y/N.” My blood boiled under my skin, and I wasn’t trembling from the cold anymore, it was from anger. My jaw clenched as I glared at Yeosang, still trying to break free of this invisible spell he’s put on me.

“Is this where your mask slips and you show just how rotten you are at your core?” Yeosang’s head lulled back as he laughed, water dripping from his hair once he faced me again.

“You think I’m doing something to you,” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper as his eyes darkened, just like at the brothel. He didn’t look innocent anymore, he looked menacing and dangerous, “but I am not. The pond brings out your deepest, darkest desires.”

Something coiled in my chest and I felt my cheeks heat up, mortified at what Yeosang was implying, “How dare you?! I am an Athenai, I have sworn to serve Athena. I have no such desires like the one you’re implying I have—”

I stiffened as Yeosang reached out, his warm fingertips softly touching my skin, “Then why is your skin ablaze? Why does your flesh sing to me to come closer? To feel you? To touch you? To devour you?”

I gasped as Yeosang swum uncomfortably close, palm caressing my cheek bigger than it, eyes boring into mine as I felt unraveled by the simplest touch, “Why do you want me to fill you up here until you’re a begging mess, until you have forgotten who you are?”

It felt like the sunlight was cut off and my neck was snapped into half, when, underwater, I felt nimble fingers trace the outline of lips untouched before, slipping between them and drawing out a sound that’s never left my mouth before, “Why does it throb for me?”

Yeosang’s lips brushed against my ear as I moaned loudly, head falling back when his fingers touched a spot that had the name of Gaea on my lips, praying to be forgiven for the sins I was committing, “Kill me with your bare hands, Y/N, and I shall grant you one wish.”

I whimpered as I finally felt released by the clutches of the water, hands flying out as I clung onto Yeosang’s shoulders, eyes screwing shut when the heel of his palm pressed harder against my core, massaging it in a circular motion, toes curling at the blinding feeling that had my whole body on fire like no battle could ignite it. Yeosang’s blood-red lips pressed against the vein pulsating in my neck, and I bit my bottom lip, trying to muffle the sounds I was making as he dipped his fingers lower, prodding at a hole I didn’t know existed before, “Yeosang.”

“Say my name, my goddess.” Yeosang growled against my neck, his teeth grazing my skin as I felt him grip onto my hip with his free hand, “Tell me how badly you want me dead.”

I moaned as one finger slowly slipped inside that hole, my mouth falling open in a loud gasp as I felt my muscles contracting, clenching down on his digit, “I shall skin you alive and deliver you to your mother myself.”

Yeosang moaned as his lips left my neck, eyes boring into mine as he faced me again. His hand from my hip slowly slipped down onto my thigh and he guided it around his own hip, flushing our bodies together as he moved his finger in and out, making my eyebrows furrow at the unusual pleasure that erupted in my whole body.

“If you do,” Yeosang whispered against my lips, gently biting my bottom lip, “I shall persuade Athena to forgive you for your sins.”

I gasped as the pace of his finger quickened, his thumb pressing on the bundle of nerves again, and his name echoed in the meadow as I cried it out loudly, body shaking from the overwhelming new feelings I haven’t felt before, “Oh, Yeosang.”

“I know,” He whispered, suddenly his finger gone from my throbbing core, and I whined as my eyes flew open, searching his face for an explanation. His golden eyes had glazed over and were a dark brown, his skin and hair not that bright anymore as clouds shielded the sun for us, almost as if they were shielding us from the eyes of the Gods and Goddesses themselves, “it’s overwhelming for the first time, but you’re doing so well for me, my goddess.”

He guided my other leg too around his hip, and I anchored myself against his lean body as I crossed my ankles behind his bottom. I could feel something hard and heavy press against my thigh and Yeosang smirked, pushing the hair out of my face as his lips pressed against mine featherlike, experimentally. My heart was beating fast, skin on fire as I felt the hard member line up at the entrance Yeosang’s finger had been inside previously, and I gulped, feeling fear for the first time in my life. No man, no battle, no war was scarier than the sin I was about to commit. But I wanted it. I knew now, I’ve always wanted it, I’ve just been repressing it desperately in honour of my oath.

“Yeosang, my god, take me.” It was a bare plea against his lips, and then they were devouring mine, coaxing them open as his tongue slid against mine at the same time as my hole was stretched open as the hard and heavy member seemed to split me apart at once, drawing out whimpers of pain as Yeosang’s lips tried to muffle them. I felt full, yet it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough as his hands gripped my hips bruisingly, guiding me up and down on his member as Yeosang whimpered, tongue tangled with mine as the painful sting in my core resided, but wasn’t as bad as it had been a second ago.

“Promise yourself to me and you shall live.” Yeosang’s low voice demanded as he mercilessly slammed my hips down, turning my mind into a jumbled mess as I was impaled again and again, wondering if the slice of my dagger would ever come close to this feeling.

“I am protector of maidens and women,” I groaned as a hand groped at my exposed chest, fiddling with the nipple, my nails digging into Yeosang’s back until they drew blood, “I will never promise myself to a man.”

“Then savor this feeling,” Yeosang hissed, and a yelp mixed with a loud moan left my throat as the next thrust was sharp, hitting a spot that had my hips moving more desperately on its own, trying to set a faster rhythm than the one Yeosang tried to set, “because Athena is on her way here, and when you leave this pond, you’ll be dead.”

My fingers slipped into his hair and I yanked on the wet strands, moaning as the new pace kept hitting that spot again and again, my mind wishing for nothing but to bring pain to Yeosang, “And you’ll be dying with me, my god.”

Yeosang moaned as I slammed my lips against his, painful and bruising as our teeth clanked together, noses pressing harshly against each other as I found it harder and harder to make sense of my thoughts as I had started succumbing to the pleasure completely.

Whether the promise of giving myself to Yeosang slipped past my lips or not, the clouds were witness to it, and Athena’s arrow would be the judge of it when Judgment Hour comes. Perhaps Hades would be sweet enough to let me reside in the Elysian Fields in the afterlife, “Does it feel real now?”

❱❱ Next star

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[merakiui]

A thought just occurred.

Deity Au, with Sun and Moon God Floyb and Jade, with a Star god reader.

JUST IMAGINE IT!!

Them fighting over who gets the pretty star lady.

Sun Floyb saying it should be him since the sun is also a star, while Moon Jade argues that the stars shine alongside him. Maybe they share. (Ocean God Tako is seething at not being invited)

AAAAAAA OMG OMG........ what if,,,, something something myth concept where sun and moon god Floyd and Jade are always fighting over you, and one day they're so adamant in their bickering that you quite literally fall from the sky realm you often dwell in. Landing in ocean god Azul's waters as a human, having lost all memories and divine power due to the twins' catastrophic argument and the fall from your celestial throne into the human realm.

Now Azul has taken you in as an apprentice of sorts, providing shelter and safety while you live in the coastal village. >:D sun and moon gods who realize they need to find a way to get you back to your throne. Who else is going to hang the stars in the sky every night if not you? Who will be there to balance the sun and moon when they get into foolish sibling spats? Without you up there, the usual balance is thrown off its course. They need you back.

Ocean god Azul who keeps your divine memories locked away, as everything that falls into his territory immediately belongs to him and is put under his guidance (you included), and the waves stretch far and wide. You don't need those painful memories. You can remain blissfully ignorant while you learn from him as his sweet sea witch-in-training. <3