#professer oak

[nothwell]

I am a human author telling human stories to other humans. Supporting human artists to illustrate these human stories is the only logical and ethical choice.

@thistlearts is my cover artist. He did incredible paintings for Mr Warren's Profession, Oak King Holly King, Tales from Blackthorn Briar, and Fiorenzo.

@lauravian_arts designed adorable stickers for Oak King Holly King. (Available now in my etsy - and perhaps soon, a Kickstarter?)

Collaborating with human artists is a joy and a dream.

AI is unethical, illegal, and dangerous theft from real human beings. No excuses.

(And thank you to @noahhawthorneauthor for inspiring this post!)

[sagi-tori-ous]

Simon sighs, his left hand coming up to press against his anguish ridden face. He had just gotten off the phone with work and it was expressed that they needed him there earlier than his allotted time.

He knew you wouldn't take the news well, early mornings were your favorite time to spend with him. Simon wasn't an early bird like you even though his profession called for punctuality. He loved the bed you'd share, snuggling up to you till his alarm shrieked through the master bedroom, every so often tempting him to throw it afar without care. Nevertheless, he knew what mornings meant to you. There was always a reason why he dragged himself out of bed an hour, almost two before he had to leave the house. There was an obligation, one where he had to sit at the round oak table with you perched on his lap, your surroundings smothered in the scent of the steaming cooked breakfast and freshly brewed tea you prepared, faithfully.

"fuck me," he groans, dragging himself around the spacious bedroom, begrudgingly getting ready for the day, "s'gonna be so mad."

Simon could hear the faint pitter-patter of your feet as you danced around the kitchen, fretting over what you should cook today for the both of you.

"Baby!" You call out, looking through the ingredients, "Pancakes and bacon? How bout it?" The thought was a bit mouthwatering, there weren't many things at the moment better to you than some syrup-covered buttermilk pancakes and crispy bacon.

"y'know I'm fine with it." Simon calls back, fastening his attire promptly, "Everything you make is delicious." His attempt to butter you up.

Which doesn't fall flat— you soak it up as if you were just like the pancakes you were preparing, dubious as ever to what was in store for your morning. You noted that the tone of his voice was preppier, more awake than usual. You briefly questioned why he even was fully awake, seeing as you were usually the one to drag him out of bed in the morning. Literally.

Simon, still dwelling in the bedroom, shakes his head, stumped on how to go about this, in a way wanting to just slide out of the front door and ultimately deal with the consequences later but that'd be too rude. Too disrespectful.

"Love," Simon calls out to you, the combat boots strapped to his feet sounding thunderous as he finally rounds the corner into the quaint ivory plastered kitchen.

"yes," you sing, your mouth upturns into a small smile, "I'm actually almost done. I had already made the dry mix, remember before that recipe I found, I just had to add the eggs and but-" Your sentence falters as you gaze up at Simon, eyes going up and down taking in his wear, you weren't a fool and picked up on the circumstances quickly.

The pout that pulled your lips down was instantaneous. "No."

Simon steps towards you, "I know love, they just called me. There s'nothing I could do. I'm sorry."

"mornings are for us." You whine— you didn't want him to go. You wanted to finish cooking and take your rightful seat in his lap while you fed both of you breakfast. You wanted his heavy head to lay on your shoulder, leaning up occasionally to nibble on the bites of food that you pressed to his lips. You wanted his muscular arms to wrap around you, holding you tight against his broad frame as you babbled about any and everything. You wanted that every morning and wouldn't be subjected to change.

"I know," Simon repeats, attempting to move closer to you but the attempt was futile. You blew air into your cheeks, slightly puffing them as you turned back to the stove. "the food." you grumble.

Yes, you knew what Simon's job consisted of, you knew that it required of him to be available at times, even if they were inconvenient. Were you being unreasonable? Slightly. Could you see through your heedlessness? Not at the moment. You couldn't help but feel wronged like this was to spite you.

The silence lingered for some time until you broke it, "when do you have to leave?" you reluctantly ask, absentmindedly tapping the fluffy pancakes with your spatula.

"got'to be there by 6," Simon glances down at his wristwatch, "I should be out the door in the next 15 minutes." His gaze was swift to shift back to you, perturbed by your behavior.

Your shoulders hump, movements becoming a tad more aggressive, "Well guess I have to hurry." The comment is not as endearing as it seemed, there was a snarky nuance to it.

Simon wasn't oblivious to your attitude, he knew the little backhand comment was supposed to be a jab at him but the animosity didn't resonate. He found the slightest of amusement with your current demeanor. The almost undetectable smirk was amiss from your view since your back was to him. He found your displeasure the least bit adorable. Anger wasn't a reoccurring emotion for you, there was no familiarity but when you did encounter it, it could be misplaced at times.

You were upset and it showed easily; it was evident in your expressions, fluid in your movements. Regardless of how you felt, you still packed the heaping breakfast in his sack, and bottled up his piping hot tea, momentarily wishing for him to burn his tongue later on, before pushing his belongings into his hardened chest.

Your hands momentarily brushed against his pecs, recoiling from the touch as if he'd burnt you, dramatics in full effect until your wrists were clasped in one of his large worn hands, reeling you back into him.

"I'll be back," he reassures, looking down at you even though you refused to look up at him, " y'know this." His declaration falls on deaf ears, yet still, he pushes forward, inching his lips closer to your forehead to leave his standard kiss, "I always come back to you." He whispers, lips almost flush with your skin.

Before he can, you pull away, an action that shocks you both. It was unfamiliar to you both, upsetting in many ways but no more than the other.

"stop being a brat," Simon says, his eyes now hard, glaring "You've been playing this little game for too long. Enough." His gaze is unwavering as he once again inclines towards you, his pace treacherous, but to his displeasure you still deny his affection, pulling away from him, prompting him to snag your chin between his fingers, now forcing the eye contact.

"Keep on, y'know this is a game I can play really well."

Later that day...

"feels s'good," your voice whines, breath hitching ever so often from the stimulation Simon gave you. Your head is fuzzy from his calculated touches, eyes unfocused from the momentous pleasure, "m'gonna cum."

"like hell you are," he reproves, "keep those legs up."

Simon's right hand latches on to your thigh, applying a bit of pressure as he nestles between them. He fists his angry cock in his other hand, purposefully nudging your clothed cunt in the process. His movements were harsh, self seeking, paying no mind to your throbbing pussy as it drooled through the thin fabric of cloth that separated your bare flesh from his.

"brats like you don't get to cum." He condemns, his voice laced in the disappointment he felt, "don't deserve t'cum."

Your thighs trembled under his hold, "I do, I do." you cry, chest rapidly rising as the knot in the pit of your stomach grows, begging to be undone. He was ruining you, he was showing you why certain games were too dangerous to play.

"but you don't," he grunts, he fucks his palm faster, crowning your aching clit. The hand that was on your thigh plants you, knowing as you try to roll your hips and meet the thrusts of his cock.

"please! please! Si!" You beg, tears threatening to fall, "mmm fuck-" His bottom lip slips between his teeth, he blatantly ignores your pleading, instead he focuses on his orgasm as his hot cum paints your cunt through the skimpy cloth. His touch is gone as soon as he's sated, leaving you high and dry.

"like I said, brats like you don't get to cum."

Press this 💨❄️❄️

[queenofwands89]

Jake saying to the reader “You have my heart please don’t break it” but can you make it cute and fluffy 🥺

This is so cute! 💜

A Sunlit Romance

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x reader

Warning: More tooth rotting fluff.

Notes: Literally was blushing while writing this lmao. Enjoy byeeee

It’s one of those perfect summer days, the kind where the sky is an expanse of unbroken blue and the sun paints everything in lush gold. You and Jake have claimed a small clearing in the park for your picnic, spreading out a checkered blanket under the dappled shade of a giant oak tree. The sweet scent of blooming flowers mixes with the fresh aroma of the earth, making it feel like nature is celebrating alongside you.

Jake, with his confidently mischievous grin, stretches out on the blanket, resting his head on your lap. He is clad in casual jeans and a white t-shirt, his aviator sunglasses barely keeping up with the brightness of his personality. You feel a sense of serenity wash over you as you gently run your fingers through his neatly trimmed brown hair. In moments like these, his laughter is the only sound that matters to you, echoing the song of your own heart.

As you lose yourself in the moment, Jake reaches up and lightly clasps your hand. His eyes, once sheltered by his glasses, are now visible, revealing an ocean of sincere adoration.

"You have my heart," he says softly, lifting your hand to his lips to plant a tender kiss. "Please, don’t break it."

You giggle, eyes twinkling like scattered stardust. "Oh, I’m gonna break your heart so bad," you tease, dramatically clutching your free hand to your chest with playful wickedness.

Jake laughs, a sound as robust as his spirit. "I’ll probably thank you for it," he shoots back, the lopsided grin you adore spreading across his face.

The gentle breeze rustles the leaves overhead, like nature’s applause at your effortless dance of love and words. You watch as Jake's eyes soften, reflecting a depth of emotion masked by his usual buoyant facade.

“You know,” you say, your voice dropping to a whisper, “I’d rather keep your heart safe than break it.”

Jake’s smile fades into something more profound. “I know, babe. But even if you did break it, I think it’d be honored just to have your acknowledgement.”

The silence that follows isn’t awkward; it’s enveloping, like a warm embrace. You lean down, capturing his lips in a kiss that is as soft as it is meaningful. It’s in moments like these that Jake’s protective exterior melts away, revealing the loving man he truly is.

Nestled in your lap, Jake feels an overpowering sense of peace. His profession demands confidence, bravery, and a bit of cockiness, but here, in your presence, he feels liberated to be vulnerable. You are his sanctuary, the one who sees through the bravado to the essence of who he is.

The rest of the afternoon is filled with a delightful tapestry of idle chatter, shared stories, and comfortable silences. Laughter punctuates the air as you reminisce about the amusing moments that have colored your past.

"Remember that time you tried to cook that fancy dish to impress me?" you say, a grin spreading across your face.

Jake chuckles, shaking his head. "How could I forget? I thought I could handle it. What was it again? Shrimp scampi?"

"Yes," you reply, laughing, "Except it ended up more like shrimp smoke-alarm."

Jake's laughter joins yours. "I swear, I followed the recipe to the letter. But right when I was about to plate everything, that darn fire alarm went off. I thought I was going to set the whole apartment building on fire."

"You should have seen your face, running around with that dish towel, trying to wave the smoke away. It was priceless," you say, your eyes shimmering with tears of laughter.

Jake smiles, a bit more softly now. "You know, I was so nervous because you were way out of my league. I wanted everything to be perfect because... well, because you'd already stolen my heart."

Your eyes widen and a warmth spreads through you as he continues.

"I mean, from the very first moment we met, I felt this incredible connection. I wanted to impress you so badly, but instead, I ended up making a complete fool of myself," Jake admits, laughing at the memory.

"Hey, for a guy who burned shrimp scampi, you did impress me," you say, a genuine smile lighting up your face. "It was sweet. And nobody's ever tried so hard just to make me smile."

"Hey, I redeemed myself with that dessert, though," Jake retorts playfully. "What was it? Chocolate mousse?"

"More like melted chocolate soup," you tease, eliciting another round of laughter.

"Well, it was all worth it," Jake murmurs. "Seeing your smile always made everything worth it."

With each exchange, your bond strengthened, seamlessly merging their souls. As Jake looked at you, and a realization struck him: your love was as vast and boundless as the sky sprawling above you. It was tender, yet unbreakable. And in your presence, Jake knew he had found not just a lover, but a partner, a confidante, and a soulmate.

As the sun begins to set, casting an orange hue across the landscape, you pull Jake closer. You watch as shadows lengthen, your hearts synchronized in a beat that speaks of endless tomorrows.

"Ready to pack up?" you ask, your voice tinged with the sweet fatigue of a day well spent.

"Just a few more minutes," Jake murmurs, snuggling into your embrace. "I want to remember this — every single second."

You smile, stroking his hair one last time. "Me too, Jake. Me too."

And under the fading light, with the world hushing into evening, you hold onto each other, knowing that in your love, you have found a treasure more precious than anything the sun could ever illuminate.

[criticallyinneedofadar]

Hello! I stumbled across your post about requests opening for certain Rings of Power characters, and I'd love to request one for Gil-galad, if that's okay!

The reader is Elrond's sister, and was taken in by Gil-galad when she was an elfling after Sirion (just like Elros and Elrond). Could you write something that begins in angst and ends in fluff? Like, for example, Gil-galad has been trying to convince himself that he's not falling for the reader (but he is), and one day she goes on a patrol with Elrond and a few other elves. She gets grievously hurt, and is rushed back to the palace by her overprotective brother Elrond. Gil-galad is incredibly concerned, and the love and grief comes rushing to the forefront. He's got to watch her scream in pain as she's being healed by Elrond. When she gets better, the High King professes his love and asks her to court him. A timeskip and a brief mention of them getting married at the end and facing the hardships of Second Age Middle Earth together? Because Eru knows we need some fluff and happy endings!

Thanks a lot, and apologies for the long request!

Hello there! I combined this with another ask I received about our lovely High King! I'm going to make a part 2 that is going to address their happily ever after and maybe some spicey time.... for now, here you go!

zoya-olenka asked:

Ok and the other one, reader and Gil Galad are always clashing during their interactions until the tension is too much and well, we know what follows. I'll leave it to you to set the scenery. I'm sure I'll love anything you come up with!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lovely Thorn

You sit across from Gil-galad at the war council, the map of Middle-earth spread out between you on the heavy oak table. The room is filled with advisors and generals, all eyes turned to the High King as he discusses the latest reports from the patrols. Your heart pounds in your chest, and not because of the looming threat of war.

"I still believe we should patrol further south," you say, folding your arms across your chest. "The enemy could be gaining ground there, and if we don’t act now, we risk losing control of the entire region."

Gil-galad raises an eyebrow, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. "Moving south would leave Lindon exposed. I will not risk the heart of our people for a gamble on a dark servant that Galadriel herself cannot seem to find."

"It’s not a gamble," you argue, your voice sharper than intended. "It is a calculated risk, and one we must take if we’re to stand a chance protecting the people of this world."

The room goes silent, all eyes flicking between you and the High King. This isn’t the first time you’ve challenged him in public, and it certainly won’t be the last. His calm, unflinching demeanor only serves to irritate you more. How can he be so maddeningly composed? And worse—how can he look so beautiful even when he’s infuriating you?

"Perhaps," Gil-galad says after a long pause, "you would like to lead the army yourself, then? Since you seem to know so much more about warfare than my generals."

Heat rushes to your cheeks. "That’s not what I meant, and you know it!"

He leans back in his chair, the smirk still there. "I know what you are saying. But the decision is mine to make."

You grit your teeth, feeling the tension thick between you. The air seems heavier when he’s near, and no matter how much he irritates you, you can’t deny that every argument leaves you more flustered than the last.

"Fine," you mutter, finally relenting, though your mind still spins with frustration. "But when the darkness returns to our borders, remember that I warned you."

As you storm out of the room, you can feel his gaze lingering on you, and the sensation only makes your heart race faster.

—---------------------------

You’re standing in the middle of the throne room, arms crossed as you glare at Gil-galad. The council has just adjourned, but the two of you remain, still arguing over the trade agreements with Númenor. He stands with his arms behind his back, the picture of regal calm, while you’re nearly pacing with frustration.

"We need to offer them more, or they’ll break off the alliance," you insist, your tone exasperated. "You’re being too cautious, Ereinion!"

"And you’re being too reckless," he counters smoothly, his voice low but steady. "If we give Númenor too much, they’ll see it as a sign of weakness. We cannot afford to appear desperate."

"I’m not saying we should grovel," you snap, taking a step closer. "I’m saying we should meet them halfway, but you’re so stubborn!"

Gil-galad’s eyes narrow slightly, but that infuriating calm never leaves his face. "You think me stubborn, do you?"

"Yes!" The word bursts out of you before you can stop it. "You never listen to anyone else’s advice, not when it contradicts your own plans. You—" You falter as he takes a step closer, his gaze locked on yours with a sudden intensity that makes your breath catch. You’re close enough now to feel the heat radiating from him, the weight of his presence pressing down on you.

"And you think I don’t listen to you?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you’re not sure what to say. His closeness, the way his gaze flickers down to your lips for just a fraction of a second—it all leaves you dizzy. You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Instead, you turn sharply on your heel and walk out, your face burning, every nerve in your body on fire.

—---------------------------

Of all things to argue about, you hadn’t expected this. The grand banquet hall is prepared for an important delegation from the elven cities, and you’re standing with Gil-galad, going over the final seating arrangements. He points to one of the seats near the head of the table.

"Lady Galadriel should sit there," he says decisively.

You shake your head. "No, she should be closer to the center. That way, she can engage more easily with both the Galadhrim and the Lindon lords. She’ll feel isolated at the head."

Gil-galad sighs, rubbing his temple. "The head of the table is a place of honor. It shows respect."

"She won’t care about that," you insist, your voice rising slightly. "She cares about connection, not appearances."

"And what makes you think I don’t know what she cares about?" he says, turning to face you fully now, his brow furrowing. "I’ve known Galadriel for centuries."

"Maybe you don’t know her as well as you think," you counter, crossing your arms and standing your ground. You know you’re being difficult, but for some reason, every word out of his mouth today is setting you off. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like you’re some puzzle he can’t quite solve. Maybe it’s the way he always manages to look so composed while you’re constantly flustered in his presence.

He takes a step closer, his gaze hardening, but his voice remains calm. "If memory serves, I am the High King, and the decision is mine."

Your heart pounds as he stands so close, his presence once again overwhelming you. You can smell the faint scent of pine and sea air on him, and you hate that even now, even in the middle of an argument, you can’t help but notice how maddeningly attractive he is.

"You always say that," you mutter, looking away, your face burning. "But sometimes I think you make these decisions just to frustrate me."

Gil-galad’s expression softens for just a moment, something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Perhaps," he says quietly, "I do."

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You glance up at him, your heart racing, but before you can say anything, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, flustered and confused once again.

—---------------------------

You walk down the quiet halls of the palace, your feet barely making a sound as you wander through the open corridors of Lindon. The sea breeze brushes against your face, carrying with it the familiar scent of salt and pine. You’re lost in thought today, the memories of Sirion still haunting the edges of your mind despite the many years that have passed. 

Your steps slow as you near one of the open council rooms. Two familiar voices filter through the air. Círdan and Gil-galad. Their tones are low but clear enough for you to hear.

“You are the High King of the Noldor, Ereinion. It is your duty to provide a legacy, to ensure the future of our people,” Círdan says with that calm, ancient wisdom in his voice.

There’s a pause, and then you hear Gil-galad’s reply, strained but resolute. “No one deserves that burden, Círdan. To be bound to me would be a life of endless war and worry. The darkness presses closer each day. How could I ask anyone to endure that?”

“You would not be asking. Someone would gladly bear it, if it meant standing beside you,” Círdan counters softly. “There are many who would fill the role, Ereinion. And, if I may speak freely, there is already someone fit.”

A silence follows, heavier than the words before it. You find yourself holding your breath, your heart beating faster for reasons you can’t quite place.

Gil-galad sighs, the sound laced with weariness. “No. There is no one fit for such a task. Not… not her. She deserves more than I can give. I can never ask her to share in this life.”

Her? It couldn’t be you. A sudden weight settles in your chest as your mind scrambles for an explanation. Gil-galad must be in love with someone else—some other elleth, far more graceful and fitting for a king. Perhaps all those charged moments between you—the arguments, the heated exchanges—were nothing more than misunderstandings, your own heart playing tricks on you. You’ve been a fool, misreading his every glance, every word. Heat rises to your cheeks as embarrassment floods you. Of course, the High King would never see you that way.

You quietly slip away from the door, your heart heavy, and find Elrond later that evening. Without revealing too much of your turmoil, you convince him to take you on the next patrol. Anything to clear your mind, to escape these tangled feelings. Elrond hesitates at first, but you press, insisting that some fresh air and a change of pace will help you regain your focus.

But as you ride out with the patrol, your thoughts remain clouded with questions about the mystery elleth. Who is she? Is she one of the noble ladies who frequently attends court? One of the warriors who catches Gil-galad’s eye during council? 

The wind whispers through the trees as your patrol moves cautiously through the dense forest. The air is tense, but your thoughts are elsewhere—drifting back to the conversation you overheard, the words replaying over and over. Who could she be? Gil-galad’s voice, so calm, so certain, echoes in your mind. Whoever she is, she has captured his heart, and that realization claws at you, leaving you distracted and heavy with emotion.

"Are you well?" Elrond’s voice pulls you from your reverie. He rides beside you, his sharp eyes watching the tree line, ever the vigilant commander. You nod, forcing a tight smile, but your mind is still clouded.

Suddenly, a cry goes up from the front of the patrol. The snap of arrows cutting through the air is followed by the sickening thud of one hitting its target. Chaos erupts as orcs burst from the underbrush, their jagged weapons gleaming in the dim light. Your heart leaps into your throat, and instinctively, you draw your sword.

"To arms!" Elrond shouts, his voice clear and commanding over the din of battle. He’s already dismounting, swinging his blade with practiced precision, felling the first orc that rushes him. The patrol scatters, engaging the enemy in pockets of combat, but the ambush has left you surrounded.

You leap from your horse, blade in hand, but your focus is scattered, your movements just a fraction too slow. You parry an orc’s strike, feeling the jarring force of the blow reverberate through your arm. Another charges, and you swing your sword wide, catching it in the side. It falls, but more take its place.

The clashing of steel fills the air, mingled with the guttural roars of the orcs and the cries of your comrades. You fight to keep up, dodging and weaving between the advancing enemies, but your thoughts keep pulling you back—back to her. Whoever she is, she’s the one occupying Gil-galad’s heart, not you. Not ever you.

And that moment of distraction costs you.

An orc lunges from the side, and you turn too late. The blade slashes across your side with brutal force, the shock of it knocking you off your feet. A scream escapes your lips as the pain explodes through your body. You hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from your lungs, blood already soaking through your tunic. You try to stand, but the world spins, your vision dimming at the edges.

"Sister!" Elrond’s voice cuts through the haze, frantic and filled with fear. He’s at your side, fighting off orcs left and right with terrifying precision. He’s calling for help, his face pale as he kneels beside you, hands pressed to your wound. His touch is warm, but you can feel the cold creeping in.

The battle rages on around you, but all you can focus on is the searing pain and the dull roar in your ears. Elrond’s voice fades in and out as he fights to keep you conscious. Somewhere in the distance, you hear the thundering of more hooves—reinforcements, maybe—but it’s too late. The darkness closes in, and your last thought is of Gil-galad. The king you love. The king you can never have.

The world goes black.

The gates of Lindon loom ahead as the patrol rushes back into the city, Elrond riding with you cradled in his arms. You’re barely conscious, the pain from your wound a constant, throbbing ache that keeps you teetering on the edge of blackness. Every breath is agony, and the blood loss has left you weak. Through the haze, you feel the rhythmic beat of your brother’s heart as he holds you close, murmuring soothing words that you can barely hear.

The moment you pass through the gates, the guards shout for aid, and in the next breath, you hear another voice—a voice that sends a jolt through your foggy mind.

"Ereinion," you manage to whisper, but the sound is drowned out by the clamor around you.

Gil-galad appears as if from nowhere, his face pale, eyes wide with fear as he takes in your bloodied form. His gaze locks onto the gash across your side, and his calm, regal demeanor shatters in an instant. He rushes to your side, kneeling next to Elrond as they carry you inside the palace, moving swiftly toward the healing chambers. His fingers tremble as they brush against your cheek, his breath shallow.

"What happened?" His voice is low, edged with a panic you’ve never heard from him before.

"An ambush," Elrond replies tersely, his focus never leaving you as he lays you gently on the bed. "She’s lost a lot of blood, and the wound is deep. I have to start healing her now."

Gil-galad nods, but his eyes remain on you, unable to tear himself away. As Elrond begins the healing process, the room fills with an eerie light. You know what’s coming—the agonizing burn as your brother’s power works to knit your flesh back together. It’s like fire coursing through your veins, and you grit your teeth, trying to suppress the scream rising in your throat.

The pain surges, and your body writhes involuntarily, your breath coming in short gasps. Elrond’s hands glow brighter as he works, but the intensity of the healing magic is unbearable. Your vision blurs, and a scream tears from your lips, the agony more than you can bear.

"Stay with me," Gil-galad’s voice suddenly breaks through the haze. You feel his hand wrap around yours, firm and steady, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles. "Look at me."

You force your eyes open, your gaze locking onto his. His face is inches from yours, his expression raw with concern, and something else—something deeper that you can’t quite name.

"Do you remember the day we met?" he asks, his voice soft but urgent, as if he’s trying to anchor you to the moment, to keep you from slipping away. "You were so angry. Soaked from the sea, all wide eyes and defiance. I knew then that you would be a thorn in my side."

Despite the pain, a weak, breathless laugh escapes you. "Glad... to oblige."

"You’ve been a constant thorn ever since," he continues, his tone light but laced with something tender. "Arguing with me at every turn. About everything. War. Politics. Even seating arrangements."

You wince as another wave of pain hits, but Gil-galad squeezes your hand, his grip steadying you, pulling you back from the edge. His eyes, usually so composed, are filled with a desperate kind of affection. "But," he murmurs, his voice low and almost trembling, "you are a thorn I would gladly bear every day of my life—if you would stay by my side."

Your heart races, but the words are lost in the haze of pain. All you can do is hold on to his voice, to the warmth of his hand in yours, as Elrond works tirelessly to heal you. The burning, searing pain seems to stretch on for hours, each second a battle to stay conscious. But Gil-galad doesn’t leave your side. He speaks to you quietly, distracting you from the worst of it, telling you of moments you had shared, of arguments he had secretly cherished because they meant you were there, with him.

When the pain finally subsides, and the last of the healing light fades from Elrond’s hands, you collapse back against the pillows, utterly exhausted. Your body is drenched in sweat, your limbs trembling, but the worst is over. Your eyes flutter closed, your mind drifting as sleep pulls you under. The last thing you feel is the warmth of Gil-galad’s hand still holding yours.

As you slip into unconsciousness, Gil-galad remains where he is, his fingers intertwined with yours, his expression unreadable. He leans his forehead against your hand, relief and exhaustion written in every line of his face.

"I won’t leave her," Gil-galad says quietly, his voice hoarse. He looks up at Elrond, his gaze unwavering. "Not until she releases me."

Elrond, weary but grateful, nods in understanding. "She’ll need you when she wakes," he says softly, placing a hand on Gil-galad’s shoulder before quietly leaving the room.

The High King stays, his grip never loosening, watching over you as the night wears on, his heart heavy with the weight of his unspoken feelings.

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Bully

alastor x gn!imp!reader

this is part one bc i think i wanna do a smutty part two teehee

Summary: You became friends with Charlie by chance and decide to join the hotel to help! However Alastor is a cruel bastard, and you can’t understand why; he’s just such a little bully. He bugged you while drinking one night and you decide, you’d just leave the hotel; charlie will understand, however Alastor won’t let you.

Warnings: Manipulation im pretty sure, insecurity, drinking, mean alastor (kinda), reader is an imp, alastor try’s to get reader drunk not for nefarious reasons, choking, reader gets held down teehee, swearing, i think that’s it? lmk!!

word count: 3K

You gripped your glass at the bar as the red hellion pranced around you happily like the obnoxious deer he was. “Hello little hellborn.” Alastor hummed, you ignored him continuing to stare into space at nothing. “I’m surprised you haven’t left yet, it’s quite the embarrassment to be born in such a place and be as weak as you are.” Sliding in the seat beside you, he magically made a drink appear in front of him. It was some sort of brown liquor, you weren’t sure what kind. Aside from his cruel tone, his body language was relaxed, arms rested against the warm brown oak coloured bar, occasionally you could catch his coat moving at the back, or his ears twitching softly.

You ignored his stupid prodding, it wasn’t anything new, he wasn’t a fan of you and had no problem letting you know. “So my little imp, how is this evening treating you?” Alastor egged on, leaning toward your slumped over figure. Husk was long gone, relieved of his bartending duties at such an hour, meaning you were left to fend off the giant buck yourself. “Good, how’re you little deer?” You snark back, taking a long gulp of your drink.

Alastor didn’t seem to mind, laughing boisterously with his head thrown back. “My my somebodies sour today. I don’t blame you, a pitiful thing like you? i’d be miserable too.” He let out that annoying goose like, ha ha, that he thought was so coy before taking a swig of his drink. You eyed the clock in the corner, and then sent a glare his way. “Do you ever sleep? Leave me be.” The deer brushed you off, not bothering to respond, he just continued to pick up his drink, take a few sips and put it back down.

You’d met many cruel bastards in hell, but Alastor was the cruellest of all. Which was a shocker to your friends back in the greed ring when you told them. You’d had your fair share of violent run ins with men, so when you professed this one man who’d never put his hands on you, was the worst, they couldn’t believe it, snarking that you were simply being sensitive.

But Alastor was observant and coy, he liked to play pretend happy go lucky but he was calculated in his cruelty. He rooted up your insecurities and then he used them against you, like in crowds of people, in stressful situations, just to embarrass you or make you look crazy; he knew how to pull the strings. The worst part is you could identify it, but couldn’t stop it. You knew what he was doing and he was still able to get to you, and you couldn’t lash out because you were just some Imp from greed who compared nothing to human overlords.

“I didn’t take you for a martyr dear.” Sucking in a breath you tried to remain calm, you knew it was only a matter of time before he spoke something stupid again. “Shush.” It was barely an attempt but at the very least you said something passive. “I think you have a little crush on me.” Eyes bulging you snapped your head towards him in disbelief. Sitting tall Alastor smirked smugly, eyeing you from the corner.

“That’s so fucking juvenile! I never have ever showed any amount of interest in you, and you won’t fucking leave me be Alastor!” You shriek, hands curled in front of you gripping at air as you face him. You could feel the blood rushing through your veins as you screamed at him, and your shoulders tensed with the rage coursing through you. Alastor shrugged a single shoulder, flicking his hand, your glass refilled making you attention get momentarily drawn to your cup.

“I am unsure if that’s true dear. You see, I've been observing certain behaviours for quite some time, and i do believe you have quite the soft spot for me. Who wouldn’t though.” Taking a few large gulps from your cup as you listen to him ramble, you finished with an obnoxious ‘ah’ his ears gently flicking. “Like what exactly? Tell me exactly what you ObSeRvEd, big red.” You mocked his voice tilting your head from side to side, briefly he squinted his eyes at you giving you the impression you’d managed to finally get under his skin a bit. Noted.

“You always avoid my gaze, sometimes, oh my, do you stare, let me see-” His nails one by one came down against the wood of the bar, tapping repeatedly. “Not convinced, I do all those things cause i hate you.” Your face was as flat as your tone, no emotion there whatsoever, but Alastor lazily looked over to you his head tilted ever so slightly.

“You cannot have hate without love my dear.” Had there been booze in your mouth you would’ve done a spit take, thankfully though there wasn’t, instead you slammed your fist against the bar cackling manically. “That’s such bullshit!” The exclamation was loud your voice lifted an octave as you laughed. The deer once again waved his hand refilling your glass and sipping at his own. “It’s true little imp. How can you hate something you never liked to begin with?”

Now that stunted you, your laughing ceased as did your insane thrashing around on the barstool. Your face scrunched as you thought through the words he said over and over. He was right, and that’s what was getting you, technically he was right. “Mm, maybe because it’s annoying.” You finally say with a tone that basically said ‘duh’.

“So you know you hate something before you like it, because it’s annoying?” Alastor repeated voice lifting with false intrigued. You nodded drunkenly gulping down more of your poison in a glass. “How did you feel before you established it’s annoying?” Your lip quirked up, you felt confused at that. You shook your head, head falling towards him, neck stretched slightly. “Nothing because he’s always annoying.”

“Who?” You slapped your hand against your face, either Alastor was playing dumb, or he was. It was obvious to you, that he was that ‘it’ you were talking about. Deciding to not even respond you return to your position. Your hand fiddled with the glass as your eyes danced loosely around the back of the bar as you sat in momentary silence. “You’re not even that hot.” You slurred, mentally noting that you were started to get a little drunk, and to slow down a bit.

Alastor chortled his radio sounding out a laugh track with him. “Please dear, I know plenty of sinners who think otherwise.” Rolling your eyes you put your lips to the glass remarking, “go bug them then,” before taking your drink. Alastor kissed his teeth at you, filling up his glass this time and taking a polite swig.

“I’m just trying to keep you company in your time of need.” You groaned in disbelief, watching as he sipped his alcohol watching you from the corner of his eye. “You should go, especially since you have sooo many people desiring your company.” You mock making exaggerated faces as you spoke, your behaviour wasn’t too out of the ordinary as you were a fairly theatrical demon yourself, but not with Alastor. He was only granted the most minimal aspects of your personality so he couldn’t use anything against you.

The demon quirked his brow, spinning the seat he faced you, one arm on the bar still gripping his liquor. “Oh but I do! So many women and men are just throwing themselves at my feet, so many fans of my broadcast. Oh and if i may, some are quite the sight. I might even say some had my eye,” Resting his head on his hand which had released his cup to rest his head, he stared at you through lidded eyes that told you he was teasing you. You again noticed he was trying to poke you, annoy you, but still couldn’t stop the way your teeth grit and your face crunched, hell even your stomach clenched making the warm alcohol crawl up your oesophagus.

Growling you tipped your glass, bottoms up right? You slapped you cup down empty, though it didn’t stay for long before it refilled itself. “Would you stop filling my fucking up?” You snap, following in suit with turning your body towards him. Your knees brushed against eachother as you spun your chair but you barely cared. “Darling, stop drinking it so fast and I won't fill it.” The way he remarked, throwing his free hand around lazily made you want to rip his face off. “I want to leave, that’s why i’m drinking.”

Checking his nails meticulously, the demon ignored you. Tonight wasn’t the night and you could feel the overwhelming emotions start to ripple up from where you pushed them down, like a tsunami. Thankfully no angry tears fell, and you managed to regain your composure by hiding behind your tilted cup, only getting yourself drunker than you already were, or needed to be. “Why do you care to bother me?” You urged jabbing your chest with your finger.

Surprisingly the radio demon was silent, more silent than ever, no ambient radio, no hum nor scoff, just erie silence. You watch his face stay still, eyes stuck forward, with an annoyed sigh you snapped your fingers in front of his face. His eyes darted down soaking in your drunken state, eyes filled with impatience. A different type of smile took over his face, the look he gave you might be even considered flirtatious, but with Alastor you never knew.

“You’re just so fun to annoy, I get such a kick from watching you suffer!” Scowling you face soured as the tsunami of emotions creeped up again. You stood from your seat, barstool screeching like nails on a chalkboard. You without another word marched away leaving the full cup on the bar. You got to your room thankfully without any bother from the red devil. In your hazy state, you haphazardly tossed various belongings you had on the bed. You were so tired of feeling pathetic and small, you wanted to go back to where you somewhat belong. You wished you were strong like Angel, he’s so much stronger for being able to put up with Val, you can’t even put up with Al without running off, and Alastor’s not as bad.

Tears began to fall in self pity as an avalanche of emotion and memories crashed down on you fueling your erratic packing. Walking into the ensuite bathroom you had, you closed the door and sat on the toilet seat, trying to calm your rapid breaths and calm your heart. Your face burnt and your chest felt tight, this was idiotic, you continually chanted to yourself. Taking a final deep breathe you washed your face in an attempt to sober and cover up the tear tracks. When you left the bathroom you gasped stepping back, fear momentarily flooded your system and quickly fizzled out.

There stood Alastor patiently waiting, hands tucked behind his back beside your bed. “What the hell are you doing?” Your tone was harsh as you barreled further into the room nearing him, finger pointed at him ready to prod at his chest. Before you could speak again, or land your finger on him, he speedily gripped your wrist, drawing your attention up. “Oh hush, dear, always so angry. I just came to check on you after you left so abruptly, and then i heard banging and this awful squeaky sound.” The look in his eyes told you that awful squeak must’ve been your sobs.

“Okay great you checked, i’m good, now leave.” Gently you wiggled your wrist from his hold, and moved it from him and then the door. Alastor hummed flatly, turning he slowly waltzed around your bed looking down at the things that were on it, including the suitcases. “No can do dearie, seems you’re trying to make an escape. That’s quite emotionally immature don’t you think?” You slouched over, grunting at him. You simply decided to work around him, he wasn’t going to talk you out of leaving. Unfortunately you were drunkenly set on leaving, and though Charlie would probably be very upset, you knew she had plenty of support here.

Static fizzled ominously from him as you continued to ignore his presence, ignoring his calls to you, or one off comments about your clothing choices, he even began to materialise right in front of where you were headed making you bump into him. Despite all that, you’d just move around him, and not listen to a word he said. You even began to hum as you folded your clothes. “Darling you are being-” You spun from your position hunched over the clothes, bumping past him you intended to go to the bathroom to grab your toiletries unfortunately that small gesture of rudeness was the snap for Alastor.

Antlers growing in size the demon gripped you from behind and tossed you on the free space of bed. You yelped as you were tossed, landing somewhat softly amongst the things on your bed. Gripping your ankle, you were yanked by him to the edge, his hand coming down to wrap itself around your neck. Leaning over you dials in his eyes he statically hissed at you. It was a sight you weren’t used to seeing, he didn’t even show genuine anger when Mimzy led the loan sharks to the hotels door. You didn’t necessarily feel fear staring up at the ballistic looking animal man, but you weren’t comfortable that’s for sure. You’d been in this position before and unless you die, you more than likely will be again.

Still intoxicated you just limply laid there waiting for him to either break your neck, choke you, or set you free. At this point you didn’t care which happened just that he’d hurry it up. “You aren’t leaving the hotel dear, so when i let you up, you’re going to unpack.” Your looked at him with disgust, his antlers coming back to their original size, his claws retracting soothing your aching neck slightly, and his eyes returning from their dial form. “If this is about Charlie, she won’t mind, i won’t even tell her you did it, now get off.” Your voice came out raspy from his tight grasp, but it wasn’t too painful.

“This isn’t about Charlie.” The words came out punctuated and harsh, like part of him didn’t even want to say it. “Then what is this all about, let me go.” You began to wiggle, raising your hips in an attempt to buck him off, but instead he dropped his hips on top of yours weighing you down. “I don’t know,” He grit angrily, his eyes returning to the wide eye dial. “I have no clue what my particular fascination is with you. The worst part is, you’re tight; why don’t I just leave you be?”

Groaning and lulling your head back, you think to yourself that he’s playing some awful trick. “Oh for fuck sakes Alastor cut the shit!” His neck cracked as his head tilted unhealthily to the side, his face inching closer to yours. He watched you closely, the uncertainty evident in your eyes; he doesn’t blame you for being so weary but he hates it. “Oh my, such crude language,” Tutting softly he brought his face directly in front of yours, lips inches away, eyes locked, there was no room for you to run, he had you pinned and cornered.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly aroused at the way he sat across your hips weighing you down, his hand resting against your neck compared to the original squeeze it had, and his other hand splayed right next to your head to keep himself balanced as he hovered over your face, it was an erotic position in your mind. Instinctively your hands went to his chest attempting to keep distance, but he pushed against it, disregarding any boundary that there was. “How could I change that snappy tone, make you stay, and believe me?” His tone was raised with a false sense of curiosity and cluelessness.

With a deep chuckle that could’ve been a demented giggle, Alastor crashed his lips against yours harshly. You squeaked at the contact of his warm lips against yours, and he quickly darted out a pitch forked tongue taking your breath away in one foul swoop. Despite your brain screeching at you to pull away, kick him, do something! You didn’t, you couldn’t, you were loving every second of him.

He smelt oddly like woodchips mixed with expensive cologne, his lips pressed against yours with hard intent but the way they danced against yours was gentle. His smile stayed put, though it was relaxed, his lips were cracked and rough against yours. His hair tickled your forehead, and around your neck his thumb gently caressed back and forth.

Under all the stimulation of just Alastors being, you completely gave in, melting into the mattress. You didn’t even know how tense you were until your muscles relaxed letting Alastor’s body sink further into you. You hummed softly against him trying to stay at the forefront of your mind instead of losing yourself in him, it was too risky at this point.

Alastor pulled away, your lips glistened with wayward saliva, though the kiss wasn’t too long nor too messy, it still was pretty intense. It seemed Alastor kissed you with frustration as motivation. Your eyes were lidded as you stared up at him as he looked down at you in admiration, the first time he’d ever looked at you softly, at least from what you could recall.

“What happened to being a weak imp?” You asked softly, voice wobbly. Chuckling lowly Alastor had what could be described as a fond smile on his face. “You still are,” Your mouth stretched into a flat line as did your eyebrows. “But, you’re a weak imp i feel called to protect. A weak Imp who can be strong if alongside me.” The demon sounded sly and calculated as he spoke but his face and actions contradict his words; they were soft. Alastor removed his hand from your neck gently cupping your cheek and caressing it as he spoke.

You truly couldn’t tell whether or not he was manipulating you or being honest, but the only way to find out, was to chance it.

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chronicles

Dive into the profiles of the members of Camp Seventeen!

Name: Choi Seungcheol (Coups, Cheol) 

Descent: Son of Zeus, King of Gods, God of Sky, Thunder and Lightning

Symbol: Thunderbolt 

Role: Camp Leader - Sets rules and assigns roles in camp to everyone. Responsible for overseeing team members and ensuring discipline on camp. 

Residence: White marbled mansion, surrounded by oak trees, located on higher ground than everyone else so he can keep an eye on camp.

Companion: Eagle called Zephyr who is often seen patrolling the skies to protect camp. Seungcheol has a special whistle call to make it land on his shoulder. 

Profession: Meteorologist - He has a very good understanding of the weather and can accurately predict changes. Although he does not enjoy his job as he despises working in spaces where he does not have control aka isn't the boss. On the orders of his father he’s also pursuing a degree in astronomy.

Fun facts: Seungcheol’s anger is quite destructive - surprise, surprise, it thunders when he’s mad. His hair was black when he was born but streaks of gold started to appear whenever he used his powers and now it is fully golden blonde. Seungcheol also has an insane appetite and is also always making sure everyone eats well.

Name: Yoon Jeonghan (Han, Angel Boy) 

Descent: Son of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, Warfare and Handicraft 

Symbol: Medusa’s head 

Role: Quest strategist - Studies warfare strategies of other camps and develops a plan of action for his team. Assigns roles in Quests to all members. 

Residence: A tree house nestled on top of an olive tree that surprisingly no one can seem to climb other than the man himself. No one on camp has seen the inside of his house though all have tried - it is believed to house the rare luxuries he collects without anyone’s knowledge.

Companion: Bratty owl called Nox that only comes out at night, god knows where it goes off to in the day. (Dino often has to go on his knees and beg it to help deliver letters) 

Profession: Lawyer - He originally wanted to be a teacher however his level of intelligence was too high for a kindergarten job. In fact, he’s so intelligent that he often has to downplay his smartness at work. The only reason he enjoys being a lawyer is because of the cunningness the profession requires. 

Fun facts: Being the son of a virgin goddess makes Jeonghan a rare demigod - there’s very few known children of Athena. He’s also the camp prankster and though he gets on everyone’s nerves with his jokes, all the members adore him. He’s incredibly scared of spiders and refuses to visit Australia for the same reason. 

Name: Hong Jisoo (Joshua, Joshie) 

Descent: Son of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, Sex and Beauty

Symbol: White swan. 

Role: Camp manager - Responsible for all non training related operations on camp - meals, residences etc. Conflict resolving between members. 

Residence: A small cottage by the lake that was personally crafted by his mother's helpers hence it has all her favorite things in it - red roses, seashells, sea foam etc. To no one’s surprise, there are also mirrors everywhere in his house. 

Companion: Joshua once went to a bird shop to adopt a pet but came back with nearly every single dove, pigeon and sparrow because they would not stop screeching in his absence. Now they go everywhere with him - he’s a mini snow white.

Profession: Writer - Joshua writes romance novels often relying on real life experiences of his many affairs. His books are world famous under the pen name Mr.G (apparently short for gentleman) and they always have happy endings. 

Fun facts: When he’s not writing, Joshua loves to make his own accessories, especially with pearls. He also loves reading other’s writings - particularly fanfictions of his characters. He is also a very good singer, often playing the guitar during evening campfires. 

Name: Wen Junhui (Jun, Moon Junnie) 

Descent: Son of Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture, Harvest and Seasons 

Symbol: Cornucopia 

Role: Camp Farmhand - Growing and harvesting crops needed for cooking. Cooks dinner for all members. (Breakfasts and lunches are each member’s personal responsibility, though Jun insists on packing lunch for members who go to work.) 

Residence: A small farmhouse in the middle of his fields at the foot of the hills. It’s got windmills and creeks and bales of hay - very picturesque 

Companion: A two feet long rough green snake called Fluffy. Unlike its name, it's skinny and clingy and is wrapped around Jun at all times. 

Profession: Acupuncturist - works in a small clinic at the edge of the city and is quite renowned for his skill. Although looking at how most of his patients are young women with barely significant health issues, maybe he’s more renowned for his looks. 

Fun facts: He's the one that most members from other camps have a crush on - he’s always having to run away from fawning girls during quest season. He loves adventure sports and often goes off on his own to do something outdoors. Hates the city, never visits it unless he has no choice.

Name: Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi, Tiger) 

Descent: Son of Dionysus, God of Wine, Festivity and Theatre 

Symbol: Pinecone 

Role: Camp PR - Establishing social connections with other camps. Entertaining guests who come to camp to form treaties. 

Residence: Luxurious purple and green mansion which looks a little rustic from the outside with all the grapevines and ivy but on the inside it's the very epitome of lavishness. 

Companion: Horang the leopard tiger - He had requested his father to gift him a tiger but his drunk old man sent him a leopard and Hoshi refuses to accept it. He often dresses it in a tiger outfit so it's safe to say Horang is actually quite sick of him.

Profession: Club owner - Hoshi owns a small underground club which has an even more underground secret room only for demigods. There he *cough* illegally *cough* sells his own brewed alcohol which is a big hit and makes him big money. 

Fun facts: Makes and sells alcohol but does not drink as he cannot handle it at all. During his free time, he either studies the art of wine making or takes dance workshops in the city because he’s passionate about it. The loudest possible introvert you will meet with the largest possible social circle - literally no one hates him (except Horang) 

Name: Jeon Wonwoo (Wonu, Jeon-sshi) 

Descent: Son of Hades, King of the Underworld, God of Death and Riches

Symbol: Black Ram

Role: Camp patrolling - Patrols and secures camp borders at night. Not exactly his job but somehow always ends up doing the dishes. 

Residence: He lives in a cave underground which is quite high tech and equipped, like the bat cave. He’s got all sorts of computers and screens set up everywhere for the ease of his job. 

Companion: None. Wonwoo’s father gifted him Cerberus, a 3 headed puppy but Wonwoo gave it to Mingyu after he lost his own pet in a Quest. Natalie for some reason, likes to follow around Wonwoo like moth to a light. 

Profession: No one knows really. It’s some big secret government job that he rarely goes to the headquarters for - mostly works from the comfort of his own home at whatever time is convenient for him. 

Fun facts: He’s extremely rich - his job makes him a lot of money but also his father keeps sending him a lot of gifts, mainly gemstones. Children of Hades tend to be loners and do not join camps but Seungcheol fought tooth and nail to get Wonwoo into Camp Seventeen. Wonwoo loves to bike and often takes his motorcycle, Night Fury, to the countryside for long drives. 

Name: Lee Jihoon (Woozi, Uji) 

Descent: Son of Apollo, God of Sun, Music and Healing 

Symbol: Lyre 

Role: Camp Patrolling - Patrolling and securing camp at daytime. Also responsible for the healing wounded members 

Residence: Woozi and Vernon own neighboring twin houses - Woozi’s is white and gold and is filled with his instruments and music equipment

Companion: A pure white cow which is named….Cow. It was a reward that he got in one of the Quests years ago and its milk has medicinal properties and helps him to heal members. Cow also has a little calf called Daisy which is the common camp pet - it’s fond of all the members and is very playful with everyone, especially Vernon’s hounds. 

Profession: Music producer - He’s very good with sound and can play most musical instruments. Sometimes DJs at Hoshi’s club when Hyungwon, Jeonghan’s little crush, isn’t available

Fun facts: Woozi works from his own home studio so he barely ever leaves camp. He also doesn’t attend many social events unless really necessary. Spends longer hours than most members in physical and combat training - members suspect he considers himself a little weak since he’s the shortest and tend to hype him up at every given chance. He has the most beautiful long golden locks that he loves to style in various buns and braids.

Name: Xu Minghao (Myungho, Hao) 

Descent: Son of Ares, God of War, Battle-lust and Courage

Symbol: War helmet 

Role: Camp trainer - In charge of training members of combat. Assigns weapons and maintains the ones stored in reserves.

Residence: Brick House at the edge of the training field with his personal gym and simulation combat room.

Companion: None. Minghao does not feel any emotional attachment towards any living thing. 

Profession: Tattoo artist - Minghao always liked things that were rebellious in nature and he’s a very talented artist so he decided to combine the two as his profession. 

Fun facts: He’s one of the best warriors the world has ever seen - he's trained in many camps before he decided Camp Seventeen was it for him. The camp lost two Quest seasons because Minghao had to fight for the Amazonions as a favour to his dad but now he has the eternal support of the entire tribe. Although his father is the very symbol of rage and fury, Minghao tends to be quite calm and meditates often to keep inner peace.

Name: Kim Mingyu (Gyu, Big Boy) 

Descent: Son of Hepheastus, God of Fire, Forges and Blacksmiths

Symbol: Smith's hammer 

Role: Weapons master - he makes all the weapons and equipment for the members. Handles all engineering related matters on camp as well. 

Residence: Has the only two storey house on camp - ground floor is his personal forgery and above it is his residence which the most automated, high tech place ever - seriously, he’s made a machine for everything 

Companion: He used to have a baby donkey but lost it in a quest. (last it was seen was when Hoshi took a photo sitting on it) then Wonwoo gave him his dog because he was lonely. 

Profession: Firefighter - being the son of the god of fire helps with that. Plus Mingyu is always looking to help people in need so it was a no brainer for him when the time came for him to pick a job. However now he’s considering leaving the job to become a chef

Fun facts: Mingyu is the tallest seventeen member so it's always hard to get gear for him - it's always too small or too tight. Mingyu isn’t particularly a fan of biking but knows it's one way he can spend time with Wonwoo so he built his own bike, FireBolt. Since the terrain on camp is too uneven for a bike, he built it to be able to transform into a mechanical bull at the click of a button allowing him to ride it around everywhere no camp, inducing mini earthquakes as it runs. 

Name: Lee Seokmin (Dk, Min) 

Descent: Son of Poseidon, God of Seas, Storms and Horses 

Symbol: Water waves 

Residence: He has a boat house in the middle of the lake which the members love to use as a party yacht much to his dismay. 

Companion: Pegasus, a big stallion actually meant for battle but in reality it is a scaredy cat. Often runs the opposite side of combat regardless of Seokmin’s instructions 

Role: Camp trainer - in charge of morning warm ups and drills. Helps members with general fitness and health. 

Profession: Surf instructor - he spends pretty much all his time in and around sea because that is where he feels strongest. Often helps capsized boats and trapped animals though he’s not supposed to interfere and falls in trouble because of his good nature 

Fun facts: Seokmin was deadly scared of water as a child and would not even go near it. His father personally trained him and prepared his son for demigod life. He is one of the only members who has lived in Olympus for a while in his younger days. He's incredibly sweet and considerate though most of Poseidon’s many many sons tend to be arrogant and rude

Name: Boo Seungkwan (Uri boo, Kwan) 

Descent: Son of Hera, Queen of Gods, Goddess of Marriage, Family and Women

Symbol: Diadem 

Role: Camp PR - Like Hoshi, he too establishes alliances and treaties with camps. Often the messenger to Olympus because his mother is queen - loved by all the Gods (except Zeus) 

Residence: A Greek style house that Hera had instructed him to construct right in the middle of camp because she wants him to be the center of everything. Seungkwan dislikes it and often bunks with Vernon who’s the only one who hasn’t shooed him away when he approached. 

Companion: Patricia, the peacock that his mother gifted him but it's a bit too high end and spoilt to be in a place like camp. 

Profession: Wedding planner - Seungkwan loved weddings since he was a child mostly because he always saw his mother at one when she came to bless the unions. He decided to start his own company after nitpicking about how everyone was getting them all wrong and wanting to teach the world the right ways again. 

Fun facts: If it's not already obvious, he’s a mummy’s boy. Though Hera is the very symbol of faithfulness, the growing number of her husband’s children prompted her to have children of her own, Seungkwan being the one she’s most fond of. He’s the latest addition to camp and within days of arriving, he had already boosted Seventeen’s image beyond their expectations. He runs a secret instagram page for Camp Seventeen who’s followers are mostly girls from other camps, because the pictures are mostly the members shirtless.

Name: Chwe Hansol (Vernon, Bonon) 

Descent: Son of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, Wilderness, and Chastity 

Symbol: Wolf  

Role: Camp patrolling - along with Woozi, he too patrols the camp at daytime. Hunts wild animals which tend to find their way into the camps.

Residence: Twin houses with Woozi, his is silver and white and has a large enclosure for his hounds. His house shines according to the cycle of the moon - brightest at full moon, almost invisible at no moon. 

Companion: Fifteen hounds that are descendants of the hounds that his mother hunts. He can’t remember fifteen names so he’s named as the numbers - One, Two, Three, so on.  

Profession: Video gamer developer - Vernon had a lot of experience as a child when he was caste as Tv show host. Though, as much as he’s used to the entertainment industry, he likes to steer clear from it hence venturing into game development 

Fun facts: Vernon is also the child of a virgin goddess and hence also a rare demigod. He’s famous for his chiseled features and is often babied by the Hunters of Artemis. Demigods aren’t allowed to meet their mortal families after initiating into camps but Vernon always sneaks out to meet his sister Sofia who he is very close to and fond of.

Name: Lee Chan (Dino, Maknae) 

Descent: Son of Hermes, Messenger of Gods, God of Trade, Luck and Travel 

Symbol: Caduceous 

Role: Camp messenger - Much like his father, Dino plays the active role of camp transport-in-charge. Any and all deliveries are his job - even when Mingyu needs a ton of iron to weld. 

Residence: A large camp tent at the entrance of camp - When he first came he claimed he wanted it to get ‘camp feels’ now he hates it but Cheol won’t let him change it. 

Companion: A tortoise named Speedy which is as slow as he is fast. Always has to run, then wait for it to catch up, then run again and wait again and so on. 

Profession: Cab driver - doesn’t particularly enjoy the job but it makes things easier for him. He says he’s saving up to go to med school one day but Woozi swears Dino said chest muscles are called pecs because they are short for spectacular so yeah, that’s probably not happening

Fun facts: He’s a kleptomaniac - he’s always stealing stuff from the members, his house is full of such artifacts. He’s also the most in touch with his demigod half siblings - the sons of Hermes are a tight bunch. Being the youngest in camp means he’s most teased but also most adored - camp messenger isn’t even a legit job, they just give him as little work as possible. 

Name: [                             ]

Descent: Daughter of Hestia, Goddess of Hearth, Home and Hospitality 

Symbol: Fire

Role: Not yet assigned 

Residence: Not yet built 

Companion: Natalie the piglet who she found stuck in the trashcan one day and decided to raise. Natalie is a fledgling meaning its a creature of Olympus and does not follow time in the mortal world

Profession: Studying her last year of Architecture

Fun facts: She's the exact opposite of everything her mother is known for - very confrontational, not hospitable and not homely at all. Most Demigods are discovered when they are 16 but she made it to 25 undetected, no one knows how. Mingyu was the one who found her because of an accident that landed her in a lawsuit - Olympus assigned Camp Seventeen to her under the suggestion of the oracle.

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[amitiel-truth]

River Maiden Pt. 9

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 10, Part 11,

(A/N: is Telephone technically a Monsterfucker in this story? I mean, Penelope's Half Nymph so he got it from Odysseus. : ))

"I don't know what to do..." (Y/N) mutters, her head on Penelope's lap as they're in the Queen's Quarters, they're meant to start another lesson, but they've postpone it for now.

"It's a difficult situation, isn't it?" Penelope replied, gently stroking her hair. "You want to be honest with Telemachus, but you fear how he would react to the truth."

"Don't you hate me, Mother? How Poseidon was the reason why it took your husband to get home 10 more years after the war?." (Y/N) asked in worry, tearing up at her.

"Oh, my dear child," Penelope's tone was tender as she gently wiped away (Y/N)'s tears. "I could never hate you. You are not responsible for the actions of your father. You deserve love and acceptance just like anyone else."

"But...I'm scared to tell Telemachus." (Y/N) professes, leaning onto the comforting woman's hand.

"I'm scared of how he'll react, will he look at me with disdain, blame me for Poseidon's action, or be disgusted for bedding a monster." (Y/N) ponders, tears streaming from her eyes.

"Shhh," Penelope hushes her, gently stroking her hair again. "You cannot control what Telemachus will think or feel when he learns the truth. But if he truly loves you, he will see past your heritage and understand that you are your own person, separate from the actions of your father."

She gave (Y/N) a reassuring smile. "I have faith in Telemachus. He is a good man, and he has already shown how much he cares for you."

"But...what about your husband?." (Y/N) frowns once more, looking onto the ground.

"He might end our engagement..."

Penelope chuckles, a fond smile tugging at her lips. "(Y/N), did you truly think Telemachus would allow anything to come between him and you? He is practically obsessed with you. He would fight off an army of Cyclopes if it meant keeping you safe and by his side."

"But...He practically idolized his Father, he just had the chance to get to know him, I don't want to get in the way of it." (Y/N) added with a worried look.

Penelope shook her head, placing a gentle hand on Egeria's shoulder.

"You're not going to get in the way of anything. Telemachus loves you, and that won't change once he learns about your heritage. Yes, he idolized his father, and he still does to an extent, but he is his own person now.

"He's grown up, had his own experiences and formed his own opinions and values. He's not going to simply abandon you because of something you have no control over."

(Y/N) looks at her, speechless, before she could say something to Penelope, someone knocked at the door.

Penelope looked at (Y/N) fondly before turning toward the door. "Come in." she called out gently.

(Y/N) wiped away her tears, trying to look halfway decent.

A servant entered the room.

"Queen Penelope, King Odysseus is requesting Lady (Y/N)'s presence." The servant relays, shocking (Y/N).

"Very well. (Y/N), it seems the King wants to speak with you." Penelope gently nudged her.

(Y/N) could only look at Penelope in worry, before following the servant.

As (Y/N) followed the servant through the palace halls, her mind raced with anxiety and questions. What could Odysseus possibly want to talk to her about? Was it about Telemachus?

Finally, they reached Odysseus's study, and the servant opened the door, gesturing for her to enter

As (Y/N) entered the room, she noticed how very different it was to the Queen's Quarters, weapons, maps, and armour, she could almost hear their stories.

Odysseus was sitting at his desk, shuffling through some maps and documents. He looked up as (Y/N) entered, his gaze sharp.

"Close the door." He commanded the servant.

The heavy oak door shut with a resounding thud, leaving (Y/N) alone with Odysseus.

(Y/N) stood in the middle of his study, holding her hands in front of her.

"You wished to see me, Sir?" (Y/N) asked, a bit nervous

Odysseus leaned back in his chair, studying (Y/N) intently. "Yes, I did. Have a seat."

He gestured to the chair across from his desk, his expression unreadable.

As (Y/N) sat in front of Odysseus, on his desk is a Latrunculi board with it's pieces in place, making (Y/N) curious.

As she looked down at the Latrunculi board on the desk, she couldn't help but wonder why it was there. The game was a strategic one that required foresight and planning.

Odysseus noticed her gaze and a half smile played across his lips.

"Do you play Latrunculi?" He asked, his tone almost casual.

"My Aunt taught me, as well as I had a few games with my...Cousins" (Y/N) answers, a bit reluctantly

Odysseus nodded, noticing (Y/N)'s hesitation.

"Ah, so you have some experience with strategy and tactics, then." he said, leaning back in his chair. "You see, this game is not just about making random moves. It's about understanding your opponent, anticipating their moves, and making calculated decisions."

He gestured towards the board. "The pieces may appear small, but their positions and moves have a significant impact on the outcome of the game. Each choice you make can either bring you closer to victory or lead you to defeat."

Odysseus leaned forward, a gleam of challenge in his eyes. "I have a proposal. Would you like to play a game of Latrunculi with me?"

"Of course sir, do excuse me for I'm a bit rusty." (Y/N) admits with a nervous smile.

Odysseus chuckled, gesturing to the board. "Oh, don't worry about it. I'm in the mood for a game myself."

He moved a piece on the board, making what seemed to be a bold but well-placed opening move. "Your move."

(Y/N) moves a man as her starting move

Odysseus watched as (Y/N) made her move, his eyes narrowing in thought. He studied the board for a moment, considering his options.

"Not a bad opening move," he commented with a hint of surprise in his tone. "Looks like you remember a thing or two about the game."

"It's only a start, Sir." (Y/N) points out with a smile, before moving another man.

Odysseus nodded, his expression focused as he considered his next move.

"Indeed, the game is only beginning." He studied the board, his mind working to anticipate (Y/N)'s strategy. After a moment, he moved one of his men, initiating a counterattack.

(Y/N) noticed his moves, before doing the unexpected, moving her Dux (General), early in the game, trapping and capturing two of his men at once.

Odysseus's eyes widened in surprise at her unexpected move. He had not anticipated her making such a bold and strategic play so early in the game.

"Well, look at you," he said with a hint of admiration, "that was quite a risky move. And it looks like it paid off. You just captured two of my men in one turn."

"It was only a quick strategy, Sir." (Y/N) smiled sheepishly.

Odysseus chuckled, shaking his head.

"You're being too modest. That was more than just a 'quick strategy.' It was a well-calculated move, and it left me two pieces down."

He studied the board, taking stock of his remaining pieces and formulating a plan.

"You're quite the competitor, aren't you?" Odysseus said with a hint of respect in his tone as he continued to study the board. "We're only a few moves in, and you're already putting me at a disadvantage."

Odysseus's expression turned serious as he focused on the board, his eyes scanning the pieces. He made his next move, a strategic one that not only defended his remaining men but also threatened (Y/N)'s.

Odysseus continued his assault, carefully maneuvering his men around (Y/N)'s, boxing her in and limiting her options. He was a skilled player, and he was determined to turn the tables on her.

"You see, in the game of Latrunculi, as in life, it's not just about making the moves that feel good or seem easy. It's about being able to adapt, to think several steps ahead, and to make sacrifices when necessary.

"You can't be afraid to take risks, even if it means losing a few pieces along the way. Sometimes, the most strategic move is to sacrifice a man to capture the Dux."

(Y/N) tries to navigate her troupe, backing her Dux and spreading out her men, but before she knew it, she's already in a corner, with Odysseus's own men and Dux cornering her.

"I knew I was rusty." (Y/N) sighs in defeat.

Odysseus chuckled, pleased with his victory.

"You played well, considering how 'rusty' you claim to be," he said with a smirk. "But you made a crucial mistake. You let yourself get cornered, and once you're corned in this game, it's difficult to escape."

(Y/N) looks at him in a bit of suspicion.

"This isn't about the game, isn't it, Sir?" She asked, ready for his interrogation.

Odysseus leaned back in his chair, studying (Y/N)'s expression. He could tell she suspected his true intent behind inviting her to play.

"Very perceptive of you," he said with a wry smile. "No, this wasn't just about the game. There's something else I wanted to discuss with you, something of a more...personal nature."

(Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat, her curiosity piqued. She had a feeling she knew what he wanted to talk about, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"I won't beat around the bush," Odysseus said bluntly, his gaze fixed on (Y/N). "I've noticed the way my son looks at you, the way he hangs on your every word. He's enamored with you, that much is clear. And as his father, I feel it's my responsibility to look out for him, to make sure he's not making any mistakes."

"I understand, As his bethrode I'll answer every question you ask to the best of my abilities." (Y/N) answers, her hands on her lap.

Odysseus's expression softened slightly, appreciating her sincerity. He leans forward, placing his hands on the desk.

"Good," he said, nodding. "That's what I wanted to hear. But before we get into that, I need to know for certain. Are you truly fond of Telemachus? Is your affection for him genuine?"

"Honestly sir, I didn't know how I lived before him, but he's everything I could ever ask for, his sweet, sensitive, thoughtful, and caring, a rarity among men, I'd lose my mind if I lost him." (Y/N) answers honestly with a blush (🙃)

Odysseus studied (Y/N)'s face, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all he saw was honesty and a genuine affection in her eyes. He could tell that she cared deeply for Telemachus, and it brought a small measure of reassurance to him as a father.

A wave of nostalgia washed over him. Her words reminded him of the younger version of himself, hopelessly in love with Penelope and willing to do anything for her. He couldn't help but see the similarities and feel a strange sense of familiarity.

"Your affection for my son, it's..." Odysseus trailed off for a moment before continuing, his gaze softening. "It's almost a mirror image of how I felt about his Mother, years ago. It's hard to deny that you genuinely care for him."

"Oh..." (Y/N) blushes, looking onto the ground shyly.

Odysseus chuckled softly, noticing her bashfulness.

"No need to be embarrassed," he said with a small smile. "It's a good thing, you know. Caring for someone deeply is a powerful feeling, and it can make all the difference in life."

His expression turned more serious.

"But, love and affection aside, there's another aspect I need to discuss with you."

(Y/N) looked up, her curiosity piqued once more. She had an idea of what he was going to ask next, but she waited for him to continue, mentally bracing herself.

"Your past," Odysseus began, his eyes fixed on her. "I know you haven't always been forthcoming about it, and there are things you've kept from Telemachus."

He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.

"I need to know the truth. Who are you really, (Y/N)? And what are you hiding?"

(Y/N)'s smile tightens, her eye twitching before coughing, dismissing her nervousness "W-well, Sir, as I've said before on our first meeting, I was born in Gibraltar under my Mother's care before her health declined, so my Aunt took me in and brought me to Athens, she's also a Teacher so she taught me everything I know, along with the different specialties of my Cousin, but my Aunt still has her own plights, as much as I want to stay with her, my Uncle, her husband, let's just say he isn't very...loyal, she already has too many on her plate so I decided I wanted to live on my own, in solitude.

Ithaca was the first choice with the lush greens and surrounded by water, but I later realized it wasn't that isolated..." (Y/N) tells her story, albeit vaguely.

Odysseus listened intently to (Y/N)'s story, his gaze sharp and observant. There were certain details and holes in her story that he picked up on, but he decided to focus on one particular thing she mentioned.

"You didn't mention your Father," he said quietly, his tone almost accusatory. "Why is that?"

"The Bastard can go screw himself." (Y/N) mutters harshly, surprising Odysseus.

"I-i mean, he isn't that much in the picture so I don't know him much." She tries to backtrack with a sheepish smile.

Odysseus raised an eyebrow, intrigued by (Y/N)'s sudden change in tone and the venom in her voice when talking about her Father. It was obvious there was animosity there, but he couldn't quite understand why.

"You seem to have quite a strong opinion of him," he observed, his gaze still fixed on her. "Yet you say you don't know him much. That's a rather conflicting statement, don't you think?"

(Y/N) looks at him in shock, before looking at her lap,her hand tightly clenched.

"He forced himself onto my mother..." (Y/N) admits with a frown.

Odysseus's expression darkened as (Y/N) revealed the truth about her Father. His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. He didn't like the sound of what she was insinuating.

"You mean..." he began, his voice a low rumble, "He...assaulted your mother?"

"I was the product of her defilement, as a child, I watched her degrade, crying herself to sleep, and the bastard didn't even bother checking on her or taking responsibility, he continued his life as usual, while I had to watch that beautiful woman self destruct." (Y/N) mutters, glaring onto her own hands.

Odysseus's heart ached for (Y/N) as she recounted her traumatic past. The disdain in her voice was palpable, and he could see the pain and hurt behind her words. He couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been for her to grow up under such circumstances.

"Your Father is a vile man," Odysseus spat out, his voice filled with disgust. "He didn't deserve to be called a Father, let alone sire a child."

"I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you, Sir. I was afraid you'd think I'm not the perfect match to your son with the circumstances of my birth." (Y/N) mutters with guilt.

Odysseus sighed, his initial anger cooling down into sympathy. He could see the shame and guilt in (Y/N) eyes, and he knew that she had carried a heavy burden with her for a long time.

"You don't need to apologize, (Y/N)" he said gently, his tone kinder now. "I can understand why you would keep such a thing to yourself, especially given the stigma surrounding your circumstances. But let me make one thing clear."

"The circumstances of your birth do not define you," Odysseus continued firmly. "You are more than just a victim of your Father's cruelty. You're a strong, intelligent, and kind-hearted young woman. Telemachus is lucky to have you as his betrothed, and nothing will change that."

"I must admit," he said thoughtfully, "I'm quite surprised at how you've taken to Telemachus so quickly. Considering the circumstances of your past, I would have expected you to be more guarded when it comes to matters of the heart."

"It's also one of the reasons why I wanted to live in isolation, but your son...is so different, he's not brash, not proud, not cocky, his caring, kind hearted, sensitive...everything that bastard could never be." (Y/N) mutters, not even realizing she's already swooning in the thought of Telemachus, snapping out of her daze.

"I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean to babble!"

Odysseus chuckled softly, amused by (Y/N)'s unabashed gushing about Telemachus. It was clear that she was completely smitten with his son.

"No need to apologize," he said, waving a hand gently. "You're in love, and Telemachus is a remarkable young man. I'm not surprised you can't help but gush about him."

He leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his lips.

"It's quite endearing, actually."

"But I have to ask," Odysseus continued, his tone becoming more serious again. "How do you think Telemachus would feel if he knew the truth about your past? About your Father?"

"I...I don't know..." (Y/N) admits, looking down onto her lap.

Odysseus was quiet for a moment, studying her expression. He could see the fear in her eyes, the worry at how Telemachus would react to the truth.

"You're afraid he'll reject you," he said bluntly, hitting the nail on the head. "You're afraid he won't be able to look at you the same way once he knows."

Egeria grew quite, biting her lip.

Odysseus's expression softened, his tone growing gentler.

"I understand your fear, (Y/N)," he said quietly. "But you can't keep something like this hidden forever. The truth has a way of coming out, and when it does, it's better that Telemachus hears it from you, rather than someone else."

He leaned forward, his gaze steady on her.

"You need to tell him."

"I don't know how, Sir." Odysseus's heart ached at the sight of (Y/N), the once confident and fiery young woman, now reduced to a trembling girl. He knew how much she cared for Telemachus, and he could see the fear in her eyes at the thought of losing him.

"(Y/N)," he said softly, his tone soothing. "I understand that it's difficult, but you can't keep something this important hidden forever. You need to be honest with Telemachus. You owe him that much."

"He loves you," Odysseus continued, his voice firm but kind. "And if he truly cares for you, he'll understand. But you have to give him the chance to understand. You can't let your fears hold you back."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on her.

"You're strong, (Y/N). You can do this."

She looks at him in shock, before sighing, smiling at Odysseus "Thank you for your advice, Sir." (Y/N) thanked him.

Odysseus nodded, a small smile on his face.

"Of course, (Y/N). But remember, this is something you need to do soon. The longer you wait, the harder it will be for the both of you."

He paused for a moment before speaking again.

"And (Y/N)?"

"Yes, Sir?" She asked, her attention fully on him.

"He loves you," Odysseus continued, his voice firm but kind. "And if he truly cares for you, he'll understand. But you have to give him the chance to understand. You can't let your fears hold you back."

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on her.

"You're strong, (Y/N). You can do this."

Egeria looks at him, before smiling brightly at him "Thank you, Sir." (Y/N) thanked him one last time, before leaving his study, looking for Telemachus in the courtyard, training once more.

As Egeria made her way to the courtyard, she spotted Telemachus in the midst of a training session. He was drenched in sweat, his muscles straining as he wielded his sword with precision and power.

(Y/N) stood at the edge of the courtyard, watching him for a few moments, admiring the grace and strength with which he moved. It stirs something..sinful inside her, watching his sweat roll down body, every grunt as he swung his sword, but her fantasies have to wait at a later time.

Just as she was about to approach him, it suddenly...rained.

"What?" (Y/N) held out her hand, catching a few rain drops, before she felt something familiar in this brewing storm.

"No...it can't be..."

Meanwhile

Odysseus is in his study, cleaning up the Lactruculi pieces, before he noticed it started raining outside, this rain seems familiar, he looks outside the palace where it has the view of the beach...his heart dropped.

There stood...Poseidon.

Odysseus's heart pounding in his chest. Poseidon's presence sent a wave of unease through him, but he knew he had to face the god once again.

He steeled himself, taking a deep breath before stepping out of the palace and onto the beach where he found himself face to face face with the lord of the sea.

"Poseidon," Odysseus said coolly, his voice steady despite the churning emotions he felt inside. "What brings you here?"

Poseidon regarded him with a steely glare, his eyes narrowing in anger.

"You know why I'm here, Odysseus," he replied, his voice booming with authority. "Your arrogance and defiance has not gone unnoticed."

"But don't worry, I'm not here for you." Poseidon looks around, scanning the palace.

"Where is she?"

Odysseus's heart skipped a beat as he heard Poseidon's question.

"Who?" he asked, trying to hide the worry in his voice. He had a feeling he already knew who he was talking about, but he needed to be sure.

"A brat of mine who snuck into your kingdom, I usually don't care about any of them but this one's...a special case." Poseidon vaguely answers with a crude smile

Odysseus's gut twisted at Poseidon's words. He knew who he spoke of.

"(Y/N)," he muttered, but loud enough for Poseidon to hear.

"So that's her name, (Y/N)." Poseidon mutters in thought, pacing around on the sand.

"Good enough of a name, I guess, and I could only guess she didn't even bother telling you her story." Poseidon smirked, taunting Odysseus in his foolishness.

Odysseus tensed up, but he tried to keep his composure. He knew what Poseidon was doing, but he couldn't let his anger get the better of him.

"She's under my protection now," Odysseus said firmly. "Whatever grievances you have with her, you'll have to get through me first."

"Oh, I don't have any grievances with her, she's mine after all." Poseidon stated, before telling a chilling statement.

"I'm taking her now"

Odysseus's blood ran cold at Poseidon's statement. He couldn't let him take (Y/N), not after everything she had been through.

"No," he said firmly, his grip on his sword tightening. "You're not taking her anywhere."

Poseidon chuckled darkly, amused by Odysseus's defiance.

"You really think you can stop me, little king?" he taunted. "I am a god, and she is mine to do with as I please."

Odysseus gritted his teeth, his resolve steeling. He knew what he was up against, but he couldn't let (Y/N) bear the consequences of Poseidon's cruel desires.

"You may be a god, but I'm not going to let you hurt her," he retorted, his voice filled with determination. "You'll have to go through me first."

Poseidon smirked, his eyes gleaming cruelly.

"And so it shall be," he snarled, his hand reaching towards the sea, the waters rising and beginning to churn viciously. "You may think you stand a chance, but you're just a mortal, and I am a god of the sea. Do you truly think you can defeat me?"

The sea roared in fury as Poseidon drew power from the depths, unleashing a brutal barrage of attacks on Odysseus.

Before Odysseus could draw his blade, the gushing waters paused in place, stopping in front of him, before it burst into nothing.

"Enough" a cold voice orders behind Odysseus, as (Y/N) walked past him, the waters churning around her, glaring at Poseidon.

Odysseus was stunned, the waters obeying her command. He had never seen such power emanate from her before.

Poseidon's gaze hardened as he shifted his attention to (Y/N).

"(Y/N)," he said, his voice a mixture of irritation and...pride. "You've grown stronger."

"Spare me your adulation, it's disgusting hearing it from you." (Y/N) stops him in his tracks, glaring at him.

"What do you want?"

Poseidon's expression darkened at (Y/N)'s sharp tone.

"I've come to take you back, of course," he replied matter-of-factly. "You're my brat, and you belong to the sea."

"Why now? You didn't even spare me as much of a glance when I was under Hera's care, you looked at me with disgust, why should I believe I belong with you?." (Y/N) snapped back at him, the waters around her rising.

Poseidon sneered, his irritation growing at her defiance.

"You're still a mouthy little thing, I see," he grumbled. "I may have looked at you with disgust, that was because I wasn't ready to acknowledge you then, but now...I see potential in you."

"No, no you don't, I don't believe you, I think you're only using me as an excuse, because you can't get over the fact that Odysseus had bested you at your own game." (Y/N) insulted, continuing her glare of him

Poseidon's expression darkened even further, anger now blazing in his eyes. He was not used to being insulted, especially not by his own child.

"Do you have any idea who you're speaking to, girl?" he growled, his voice booming with authority, sending waves after her. "I am the lord of the sea! You should show me some respect!"

"All I see is a bastard who can't get over his lost, the same bastard who destroyed my mother." (Y/N) insulted once more, before stopping Poseidon's waves

Poseidon's anger turned to full-blown rage at Egeria's words, his face contorting in fury.

"How dare you speak to me like that, you insolent little brat!" he roared, his voice thundering across the beach. "You have no right to judge me or my actions! I am a god, and you are just a mortal, never forget your place!"

As (Y/N) and Poseidon clashed, their battle shaking the very earth. The water and the earth collided fiercely and neither backed down to the other. Poseidon was filled with rage while (Y/N) held a calm gaze.

Odysseus watched them from the sidelines, torn between worry and awe.

The sea raged around them, responding to (Y/N)'s control as she fought against her father's relentless assault. Poseidon was filled with a mix of anger and grudging respect for his daughter's power, while (Y/N) fought with a cool determination, never faltering.

But someone can falter it.

Telemachus sprinted towards the beach, panic etched on his face as he saw the intense battle unfolding before him. Without hesitation, he ran towards (Y/N) and Poseidon.

Odysseus's eyes widened in alarm as he saw Telemachus rushing towards the fighting and he called out to him, "Telemachus! Wait! Don't-"

Poseidon looks at the running Prince, before smirking at (Y/N), his water arm grew in size, reaching for the Prince.

"TELEMACHUS!" Telemachus's heart seized in terror as he saw the water hand reach for him, but before it could grab him, (Y/N) pushed him away, taking the hand's grasp herself.

"No!" Telemachus shouted. "(Y/N)!"

"Get out of here! Please, I'll be fine!" (Y/N) begs, struggling in Poseidon's hold.

Telemachus hesitated, torn between the desire to run away and the need to help (Y/N). He looked at her, struggling in Poseidon's grasp, and his heart ached at her plea.

"I can't just leave you!" he protested, his voice filled with desperation.

Poseidon smirked at Telemachus's plea, the sound of his despair music to his ears.

"Oh, how sweet, the prince is for his princess," he mocked, his grip on (Y/N) tightening. "But you can't help her, boy. She's mine, and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Why are you taking her!? She has nothing to do with you!" Telemachus screamed, watching her squirm in Poseidon hold, struggling.

"Nothing to do with her? My, She didn't tell you as well?" Poseidon taunted with a smirk.

Telemachus's confusion deepened at Poseidon's words.

"What do you mean? Tell me what?" Telemachus demanded, his gaze filled with a mixture of anger and desperation.

She watched him with a helpless expression, her struggles growing weaker as Poseidon's grip tightened.

"This one is my kin, my daughter." Poseidon shook her in front of Telemachus like a doll, as she could only look at him in shame.

Telemachus's eyes widened in utter shock, his mind struggling to process Poseidon's words.

"Your...daughter? But... but that means..." Telemachus's voice trailed off as he looked at (Y/N), a mix of realization and disbelief on his face.

"Is it true?" he asked her softly, his expression torn between confusion and concern.

(Y/N) looks at him in shame, tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, my Love." She apologizes, before being pulled away from him.

"Yeah, yeah, enough with the sappy sentiments." Poseidon rolls his eyes as she continues to struggle in his hold.

Telemachus watched she being pulled away from him, his heart sinking. He couldn't believe he had fallen so madly in love with the daughter of the king of the seas.

"No, wait! You can't take her!" Telemachus protested, trying to move closer to them.

"Why? You actually love this halfbreed of mine?" Poseidon waves her around in front of him like a toy, as she continued to struggle

Telemachus's face contorted with anger and helplessness.

"Yes, I do! She may be your daughter, but that doesn't change the fact that I love her!" Telemachus retorted, his voice filled with passion.

(Y/N) felt a jolt of surprise at Telemachus's declaration of love before looking at him with a mixture of guilt and longing, while Poseidon simply chuckled at the prince's words.

"Love? Ha! You think you love her? You don't even know her, you fool! You don't know what she really is!" Poseidon taunted, his grip on her tightening as he spoke, making her grunt.

Telemachus's face grew even more determined at Poseidon's taunts. He knew he didn't fully understand who (Y/N) was, but he also knew deeply that he loved her.

"It doesn't matter! I love her, and I refuse to let you take her away from me!" Telemachus retorted, his voice firm despite the fear he felt.

Poseidon chuckled at Telemachus's defiance, his expression growing sly.

"You love her, huh? Well, what if I proposed a little challenge then?" he suggested, his grip on (Y/N) loosening slightly.

"No! Telemachus! I'll be fine-" Before (Y/N) could protest, her head was shoved into the water hand.

"Relax, this one can breathe under water...I think." Poseidon mutters the last part to himself, as (Y/N) pounded at the surface of it.

Telemachus's heart raced at the sight of (Y/N) head being shoved underwater. But before he could panic further, he heard Poseidon's reassurance that she could breathe underwater. Nonetheless, Telemachus's mind raced with worry.

"What kind of challenge?" Telemachus asked, his voice shaky but resolute.

"Go to my own home turf, the Aegean Sea, come give your in law a visit and it'll be a leveled playing field, for me of course, if you win, She's all yours, and if you lose, I'll turn this halfbreed into seafoam." Poseidon challenges with a smirk.

"And don't even think about not coming at all, because I'll simply turn her into seafoam as well."

Telemachus's heart felt like it was going to explode. He was being challenged to a battle he had no chance of winning. But if he didn't accept, (Y/N) would be turned into seafoam...

"Fine," Telemachus agreed through gritted teeth. "I'll go to the Aegean Sea. But if I win, you let (Y/N) go."

(Y/N) banged on the surface of the hand, shaking her head, begging for him not to accept the challenge

"Excellent, that, if you win of course." Poseidon taunted with a smile, before slowly walking back to the sea, make his point.

Telemachus watched Poseidon walk towards the sea, his mind racing. He knew he had no chance of winning the upcoming battle, but he had no choice. He couldn't let (Y/N) be turned into seafoam.

Suddenly, with a dagger lent to her by Ioannis, she broke the water surface, screaming at him.

"Telemachus! I'm sorry I didn't tell you! Don't come for me! Please! Stay ali-" before (Y/N) could finish what she's saying, she already pulled into the ocean with Poseidon, disappearing into the seas.

"(Y/N)!" Telemachus shouted, his voice filled with desperation. The sight of (Y/N) being pulled into the sea, disappearing from his sight, was unbearable. He ran towards the edge of the shore, his heart racing with panic and helplessness.

"No! No! Bring her back!" Telemachus screamed, unable to contain his anguish. He was torn between anger at Poseidon and guilt for accepting the challenge.

Odysseus, who had watched the scene unfold in horror, pulled Telemachus into his arms. He held him tightly, trying to offer some comfort in the midst of the chaos.

Telemachus, still reeling from the shock of what just happened, pushed Odysseus away.

"Let go of me! I have to go after her!" Telemachus protested, his voice choked with emotion.

"You know you can't do that, my boy," Odysseus replied, his voice firm but filled with empathy. "Poseidon has her now, and there's no way you can fight him in his own domain."

"But I can't just sit here and do nothing!" Telemachus protested, his eyes filled with desperation. "I love her, Father. I can't let her be taken away from me."

Odysseus sighed, his heart breaking for his son. He knew how much Telemachus loved (Y/N), and the pain of being separated from her must be unbearable.

Odysseus took a deep breath and began to speak, his voice tinged with a mix of empathy and skepticism.

"Telemachus," he began, his grip on his son's shoulders tight but gentle. "I know you love (Y/N), but you have to consider the possibility that she may have been tricking you this entire time."

Telemachus looked at his father in shock, his heart clenching at the implication. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"(Y/N) is Poseidon's daughter," Odysseus explained. "It's possible that she's been playing a role all along, manipulating your feelings for her to serve her father's purposes."

"No," Telemachus protested, his mind unwilling to accept the idea. "She couldn't have been faking her feelings for me. I know she loves me, Father. I can feel it in my heart."

Odysseus sighed, his heart heavy with the burden of uncertainty. "The heart can be deceived, my son. You have to consider the possibility that her love for you may have been part of a ruse to manipulate and control you."

Telemachus shook his head, his expression pained but resolute. "I can't believe you're saying this, Father. (Y/N) loves me, I know it. I saw it in her eyes, I felt it in her touch. How can you doubt that?"

Odysseus placed a hand on Telemachus's shoulder, his gaze filled with compassion. "I'm not doubting your feelings for her, my boy. I'm just asking you to consider the possibility that she may have had ulterior motives all along. After all, she's the daughter of Poseidon, and who knows what schemes the gods have in store for mortals like us."

"What's going on here?" Penelope asked in worry, walking into the beach towards her husband and son.

"There was a storm and it suddenly disappeared, what happened?" Penelope asked once more, looking at Odysseus for answers.

Odysseus took a deep breath before turning to his wife. He knew he had to tell her what had happened, but he also knew it would not be easy.

"It's... complicated, my love," he started, his voice heavy with a mix of guilt and worry. "There was a storm, yes, but it wasn't a natural one. Poseidon was here, and he..." Odysseus trailed off, unsure of how to continue.

Penelope's face paled as she listened to her husband, her heart sinking with dread. She knew deep down what he was going to say before he even spoke the words.

"He took (Y/N), didn't he?" she asked softly, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Odysseus looked at his wife in surprise. He had been expecting shock, disbelief, even anger, but not this.

"How did you know, my love?" Odysseus asked, his voice filled with curiosity and a hint of suspicion.

"If so...then you must have known of her secret?" Penelope asked with a frown, her eyebrows furrowed

"...She already told me once." Penelope admits, looking at the ground

Odysseus's eyes widened in surprise. He hadn't expected his wife to know about (Y/N)'s true identity, but here she was, confessing that she already knew.

"You knew this entire time?" he asked, his voice tinged with a mix of confusion and frustration.

Telemachus couldn't believe his ears. His mother had known about (Y/N)'s true identity and kept it a secret from him, even as he had fallen in love with her. He felt a mixture of anger and betrayal.

"You knew, Mother?" Telemachus asked, his voice filled with disbelief. "You knew that (Y/N) was the daughter of Poseidon?"

"Let me finish" Penelope raised a hand, trying to calm both her son and husband.

"Her Father is Poseidon...and her Mother's Medusa." Penelope revealed with a tight frown.

The news hit Odysseus like a thunderbolt. (Y/N)'s mother was Medusa, the woman who had been violated by Poseidon himself. Suddenly, everything made sense.

His expression turned somber as he realized the weight of (Y/N)'s situation. "So, the story she told me about her Mother… it's true," he mumbled to himself, the reality sinking in.

Telemachus's mind raced as he tried to process the revelations. He was still grappling with the fact that (Y/N) was the daughter of Poseidon and Medusa, and now he was hearing about her mother's tragic past.

He turned to his mother, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. "Why keep all this a secret?"

"I wanted her to tell you herself, but she was too scared, too afraid of what you'd think of her." Penelope answers at the best of her abilities.

Telemachus felt a pang of guilt and empathy. He understood that (Y/N) must have been afraid to reveal her true identity, given the circumstances of her birth and the reputation of her family.

"But why would she think I'd react badly? I love her regardless of who her parents are," he protested, his voice growing in volume.

Penelope gave him a sad smile, placing a hand on his arm. "Sometimes, people's fears are not always based in logic, my son," she said softly. "Even though you may love her and accept her as she is, she may have grown up with a lifetime of prejudice and judgement because of her bloodline. That kind of fear can be difficult to overcome."

"And you were the only one who had loved her wholeheartedly, it would have crushed her if you thought so differently of her, fearing for the worse." Penelope explains with a frown.

Telemachus's heart ached at his mother's words. He could only imagine the loneliness and self-doubt (Y/N) must have felt, believing that everyone would judge her for her parentage.

"Is that why she was so hesitant to tell me?" he asked, his voice tinged with sadness.

"She loves you too much to loose you, Telemachus." Penelope explains.

Telemachus nodded, understanding the weight of her words. (Y/N)'s love for him must have been so powerful that she was willing to keep her true identity a secret, fearing that it would drive him away.

"I don't care about her lineage, her past, or her family," he said firmly, meeting his mother's gaze. "I love her for who she is, and nothing can change that, that's why I'm going after her."

Odysseus shook his head, his expression hardening. "No, Telemachus. You can't go after (Y/N)," he said firmly. "It's too dangerous. Poseidon is a vengeful god, and he won't hesitate to hurt you if you get in his way."

"Believe me, I know that." Odysseus added, reminding Telemachus of his stories about Poseidon.

Telemachus sighed, frustrated by his father's protectiveness. He knew all too well the stories of Poseidon's wrath, but none of that mattered to him now.

"I don't care about the dangers, Father," Telemachus argued, his voice growing in volume. "I have to save (Y/N). I love her, and I won't let Poseidon have her."

"Your old man's right, Lover boy~" a teasing voice suddenly joins in, startling the family, it was Hermes.

Telemachus's eyes widened in surprise as Hermes, the god of messengers, appeared before them.

"Hermes?" he asked, taken aback by the god's sudden appearance.

Odysseus scowled at the god, not pleased by his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here, Trickster?" he asked gruffly.

"Just here to lend a helping hand, just like the old times, old friend" Hermes zips around Odysseus, pinching his cheek

Odysseus swats at Hermes, trying to shoo him away. "Stop that! I'm too old for your games, Hermes."

Hermes chuckles, hovering just out of Odysseus's reach. "Oh come on, don't be such a sourpuss. Where's the old Odysseus I knew and annoyed?"

"I'm right here, you annoying god," Odysseus grumbled, glaring at Hermes. "Now, can you get to the point and tell us why you're here? We don't have all day."

"Well, Young lad, It's your lucky day, because someone up above with high power has given me strick orders to help, and I mean it very seriously, she hates my guts and doesn't usual intrude in human affairs so consider yourself lucky." Hermes explains, a large grin on his lips

Telemachus's heart leapt at Hermes's words. Could it be true? Was he really here to help?

Odysseus's expression remained neutral, not yet convinced. "Help with what, exactly? And who gave you these instructions?" he asked, his voice full of skepticism.

"that's besides the point" Hermes presented him a bag.

"inside this bag are Brutus Flowers, its pollen and necter has the ability to render a god into a mortal, though with Poseidon being the God of the Seas, his system will flush out these out in lets say 3 to 5 minutes tops, but that'll give you enough time to defeat him, wouldn't it?" Hermes held out the bag, covering his nose with his chiton for good measure.

Telemachus's eyes widened, hope rekindling in his heart. A way to defeat Poseidon, even if just for a few minutes. It was a chance, a glimmer of hope.

Odysseus's initial skepticism began to fade, giving way to cautious optimism. He knew better than to trust the Trickster god at face value, but this was their only chance.

"Brutus Flowers," he mused, his voice tinged with a hint of excitement. "I've heard tales of their power, but I never thought I'd actually get to use them."

"Well you do need the help, correct? and I don't want to be gutted, so what do you say? Are you going to rescue your Princess?" Hermes asked Odysseus, before turning to Telemachus.

Telemachus was practically vibrating with anticipation.

"I'm going after her," he stated firmly, his voice filled with determination.

Odysseus looked at his son, his expression a mixture of pride and worry. He could see the fire in Telemachus's eyes, the strength and courage that would one day make him a great leader.

"Alright," Odysseus finally relented, his voice weary, but firm. "We'll do it. We'll use the Brutus Flowers to take down Poseidon."

Odysseus's decision to join Telemachus surprised even himself. He hadn't intended on accompanying him on this dangerous mission.

"I can't let you go alone, boy," Odysseus said, his voice heavy with resignation. "I may be a bit slower and older, but I still have some fight left in me."

Telemachus felt a wave of gratitude towards his father. He knew that Odysseus was taking a risk by joining him, and it meant a lot to him that his father believed in him enough to do so.

"Thank you, Father," Telemachus said quietly, his voice filled with a mix of relief and determination. "We'll get (Y/N) back, together."

"Yes, yes, family and all, anyways, you might want to say something to the missus before embarking on this fight." Hermes points out to Penelope, who looks at them with a frown

Odysseus and Telemachus both turn to look at Penelope, her expression a mix of worry and resignation. They knew they were asking a lot of her, to let them go on this dangerous quest.

Odysseus approached his wife, taking her hand in his. "Penelope, my love," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret. "I need to go with Telemachus. I can't let him face Poseidon alone."

"But...you just got here." Penelope teared up, looking at Odysseus.

"But I know...we can't let our son go on his own..."

Odysseus wrapped his arms around Penelope, holding her close. "I know, my love. I just got back, and I never wanted to leave you again."

Telemachus watched his parents, his heart heavy with guilt for putting them both in this position. He hated seeing his mother in tears, but he knew he had to go. Egeria needed him.

"We'll be alright," Odysseus reassured Penelope, his voice steady and calm. "I promise we'll come back, both of us."

Odysseus looked at Telemachus, meeting his gaze with a nod. They were in this together, come what may.

Penelope nodded, wiping away her tears. She knew there was no point in trying to change their minds. These were two stubborn men, both strong-willed and determined.

"Just...come back to me," she said softly, her voice filled with quiet desperation.

Odysseus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "We will, my love. I promise."

Telemachus stepped forward, embracing his mother tightly. "We'll be back before you know it, Mother."

Penelope held him close, her grip tight. "I'll be counting the days, my son."

"We have to go now," Odysseus said softly, his voice tinged with remorse.

Telemachus nodded, understanding the weight of their words.

"Goodbye, Mother," he said softly, his voice filled with love and determination.

Odysseus took a step back, taking one last look at Penelope, before turning his gaze to Hermes.

"Alright, Trickster, lead the way." Odysseus said gruffly, gripping the bag of Brutus Flowers tightly in his hand.

(A/N: Are you catching these references I'm throwing?)

[theorphicangel]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 | 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: where better for Toji to ponder on his journey of love than during a late night meal with you?

tags: suggestive and allusions/ mentions of sex but no description (18+), fluff :)

Your bedside alarm clock reflected the red numbers of 10:34pm when you finally heard a key through the door.

With aching limbs you manage to escape from the messy and tangled bedsheets. The scent of sweat, sex and his perfume imprinted on your skin. With a shiver, your bare feet meet the cold oak floor as you manage to pick up one of Toji’s shirts.

It was a black shirt, one which was clearly too big for you but that’s what you love about it.

The black fabric reached past your thighs and tickled at your knees which were bruised and marked with his kisses. Before taking another step you took a moment to breathe in Toji’s husky scent mixed with the cologne you had bought for his previous birthday.

What snaps you out of your daze is the call of your name which was muffled by white walls and a closed door. With excitement and yearn, you don’t hesitate to find your way to your lover. He was only gone for a little over thirty minutes yet a minute somehow feels like forever without him.

Opening the bedroom door with a slight creak you’re met with the delicious sight of Toji standing in your open kitchen. The first thing that you notice is that his raven locks are damp, dripping down his neck. His black leather jacket mirrors this, soaked through and through.

“Tried my best not to get the food soaked for ya, s’raining like a bitch out there.”

That’s when you notice white bags sitting on the countertop and the aroma of your favorite takeaway fills the room like a flood. Normally, you would rush over to where Toji stands, more than eager to dig into your food yet instead your figure stands frozen at the view of Toji all soaked and wet in your shared kitchen.

If you could take a snapshot of his figure you most definitely would, the faint ache between your thighs threatening to return for an nth time.

“Why’re ya standing there like an idiot?” Toji mutters, noticing your figure yet not even turning around to look at you. He had noticed your presence almost immediately but was waiting for you to approach and dive into the food. He had gotten your usual order plus a few desserts if you wanted it.

With quiet footsteps you creep towards him and wrap your arms around his waist. The cold and dampness of his leather jacket sharply contrasted with your warm figure, his jacket dampens your shirt causing goosebumps across your body.

“M’ wet, lemme change first.” he tuts. Outloud, he doesn’t say this but the thought of you getting sick did cross his mind.

“Missed you.” It came out as a mumble, barely coherent to him, nothing more but a mere vibration on his back. Yet – and you weren’t sure whether this was due to his previous profession as an assassin – no matter how quiet you were, whether speaking or moving around the house, Toji always heard you.

You teased him for being a super secret spy but really his skills were that defined.

You feel a huff escape from his lungs, “I wasn’t even gone for an hour.”

“Still miss you.”

“Mhmm, you’re a clingy brat aren’t ya?”

“Only for you.” You reply with a smile and before he knows it you’ve peeled away his leather jacket exposing his physic in a black shirt. Sure, that’s a little damp too but you leave him be.

You rest the leather jacket out to dry and a thought passes on whether you should get Toji his more comfortable clothes, as soon as he sees your brows furrow he’s read your mind and waves a hand in decline.

Must be a secret mind reader too.

“I’ll be fine for now, doll.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, a minor hum echoing throughout the house. It’s a small yet modern apartment, perfect for the two of you. Before, Toji was used to bouncing around between homes under a temporary contract but upon meeting you, he finally got the chance to find a space he could call his permanent home.

Toji’s emerald eyes pore over you now, cheeks stuffed with as much food you can muster into your mouth. You’re glowing and happy, he notices, and very comfortable in his shirt. He muses over your features, watching how your nose scrunches up at every taste of explosive flavor and listens to your hums of approval.

He’s staring so much you think that you have something on your face.

You wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand frantically. “What?” you asked, voice muffled as you chewed your food.

Talking with your mouth full would be a classic pet peeve for anyone, but for him, there was nothing which could deter him away from you.

Toji hesitates before responding and you notice a certain gleam in his eye. A gleam that you’ve rarely been a witness to. You can recall maybe three of the times you’ve caught the same look in his eye. Once, during the first time he stayed over and the two of you stayed up talking till the early hours of the morning, you had learned so much about him then.

Another time was just after a session of sex, you swore you were so sweaty and gross at the time but he claims you just looked so pretty at the time.

The only other time you caught onto that gleam was when he had proposed to you. It came out a little rushed and timid from the ex-assassin but the look in his eyes told you all that you needed to know. The man was whipped for you.

Little do you know that there have been numerous moments where that certain gleam appears but you’re just too oblivious to catch on.

“Marry me.”

“I am, idiot.” you mimic his nickname from earlier. The engagement ring sits perfectly on your hand, the ring which Toji had spent months saving up for. Sure it was pricey but not as pricey as the rings for your wedding which he was currently searching for. Maybe he’ll pick up some jobs from Shiu again to afford it, no killings of course.

No, he doesn’t think he could return to that again but perhaps some jobs as a bodyguard would suffice.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You catch him off-guard, a deep furrow of his brows creating a frown. You’ve known Toji for too long to notice that something was wrong.

“Is something wrong with the food?”

“No,” Toji mutters, “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

You let out a snort before taking another bite of your food. Again you speak, cheeks full with food.

“You sap.”

“Weren’t ya the one who tried to suffocate me when I was only gone for twenty minutes?”

“Thirty actually.” you correct before taking a bite of your food.

“Who’s counting?”

“Your fiancée.”

Toji can’t help but feel his blood pressure soar at the mere mention of the engagement. There, deep within his gut came a tingling sensation of the newfound emotion of happiness he had found, a sharp realization that this was not just some too good to be true fantasy but you were actually going to be marrying him. And only in a couple months time.

Sure, fiancée sounded great but Toji reckons the sound of you being his wife will do inexplicable things to him.

Toji feels his heart swell just at the thought. “Say yes, again.”

“A thousand times over.”

A small smile appears on his lips, Toji shakes his head, his fork stabbing into the takeout platter next to you. “Who’s the sap now?”

The rest of the meal continues under a light atmosphere, a feeling of warmth continues to gush through Toji’s body. This is exactly where he needs to be and there was no other place where he would rather be. It’s the nights like these that really counts for him.

Nights like these which he wouldn’t exchange for anything else. He can only hope that you feel the same and you easily reassure him with a smile, similar to the one you gave him at your first ever encounter.

If there’s one thing he’ll try his damn hardest to do in this life it’ll be keeping you happy.

Till death do you apart.

reblogs are much appreciated!!

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[nothwell]

So excited to finally announce that there are THREE new stories available for newsletter subscribers!

Valentine (an Aubrey & Lindsey tale), wherein Aubrey is forced to celebrate his birthday for the first time in his whole life.

Silver & Bone (a Fiorenzo tale), wherein Enzo fulfills a promise to Fiore.

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[waestlandbaby]

The most stable and happy relationship Oak has been exposed to in his life is Jude and Cardan's, of course he put a ring on Wren's finger and professes marriage before he even says he loves her, it's the Greenbriar Way

[lycheedr3ams]

Death's Angel

Part 1: Looking Death in the Eye

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! eventual filthy smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people?

Part 2

.......

series inspired by the art below!

If there was anything your parents taught you, it was to never mix with the lower, working classes. You were royalty: there was never any need for you to lift a finger, let alone even ask for anything. Everything will be served to you on a silver platter. The heads of your enemies were no exception.

You grew up watching executions like it was a normal family affair, like it was the same as lazily observing geese land in the pond behind your castle as you sat with your chin in your hand. It was always the same. Your family's star executioner, up until now, would force the victim on stage and enact whatever cruel punishment your king and queen parents decided. It was a routine. There was no malice or passion behind it, it was just a job. Chopping heads off blocks was the same as completing a to-do list for most executioners, and you grew accustomed to seeing bloodied heads rolling over cobblestone.

But your family's loyal executioner died suddenly. The peasantry said he was possessed, that the devil had finally taken the man's soul for all the heinous acts he committed. Whatever the case, your family needed a new executioner, fast. It wouldn't be long before people committed more crime, knowing the axe of judgement was temporarily frozen above their heads. you could hear your parents frantically whispering in the dead of night over which executioner to choose. there were so many contenders for the spot. you couldn't have cared less who the new executioner would be. executioners, though their jobs were necessary for functioning society, were spurned and looked down on. a necessary evil, as some may say. your parents taught you to never speak to the executioner, much less even look his way. not out of respect, but rather to keep your eyes clean from the monstrosity of whatever man could live with cutting off heads each day.

the day eventually came when your parents decided on a new executioner. they seemed pretty excited about it, and decided to get right to the "festivities" to commemorate the occasion. the new executioner would, the moment he reached the royal ground, execute the line of prisoners whose deaths had been delayed since the passing of your previous executioner. You strode elegantly, as you were taught, to your seat on the elevated surface as the victims were lined up on the lower stage. the crowd watched anxiously. there was a different feeling in the air. everyone seemed even more scared than normal. the blood-stained oak chopping block had never seemed more foreboding.

and then you saw him. out of your family's royal carriage - the oldest and dingiest one, mind you - this giant of a man stepped out and scanned the crowd. everyone went silent. not even the birds dared to sing as he walked across the stage silently, his axe slung over his shoulder, the wooden boards underneath his jagged leather boots creaking loudly. he was nothing short of a giant. his shoulders were broad, and even though his chest was clothed with black cloth, you knew he was toned. he carried that monstrous axe like it was nothing but a butter knife. the only thing that reminded you that he was, in fact, human was the faint reflection of the sunlight in his eyes from deep within his black hood.

your breath caught in your chest as you observed him. he stood still by the chopping block, so naturally that you felt your spine tingle. your father bellowed out the reason for the execution spree - something about celebration - but your mind was completely fogged, filled with nothing but morbid curiosity for this new death-bringer who would be living in your castle. the executioner was then commanded to turn towards your family and bow before the executions began. this grim reaper turned his broad back and faced your family. his eyes scanned each one of you, but they lingered on you the longest. you felt like a gust of ice wind had just raced up from his gaze alone, manifested somehow by whatever mental prowess he seemed to possess. He bowed lowly to you and your family before standing, glancing at you once more, and then facing the crowd.

your father yelled out with raised arms, "my kingdom! this is your new judge, your executioner! the one who will bring you to justice from here forth is Konig!"

king. His name means king, you thought. how ironic. that a man with such a name - likely an alias - would be performing the work that no one dared do.

for the first time in your life, you watched avidly as this new executioner, as konig, swiftly cut each victims' head off like he was slicing butter. konig commanded respect. even the crowd was silent as he worked, his grunts and the dull sound of the axe meeting wood and bone were the only things to be heard as he performed his duty. it should have scared you. he should have scared you. and when the last victim's head rolled off the block and konig rested against his up-turned axe, you released a breath that you didn't know you had been holding.

hope you enjoyed! this will likely be multiple parts, and a slow burn. i just love this so much

[witchersmistress]

Excuse me Professor

Hello my darlings, i ended up down a very dark road for awhile, im clawing my way back but grief is just awful. so this is me attempting to come back.

Triggers: forced orgasm, semi pulbic space, thigh riding and stimulation a dark sherlock holmes, [ despite his protest] pet names and secret deals.

word count: 1.2 k

“ Emily Weaver” jolted me from my dazed sleep, shaking my head to wake myself up as I looked at who called my name. Shit I dozed off in class, worse I dozed off in his. Professor Sherlock Holmes.. He was pinning me with a glare, his blue eyes heated. “ You will stay behind after class to talk about this inexcusable behavior”  he continued on with the lecture as I shrank my seat to avoid the eyes of my fellow students and peers.

The hour dragged as the bell rang, students lingered to see what would happen. “ I said class was dismissed, that means leave.” He was holding the door open as students ran out the door, he shut it with a slam, locking it behind him and closing the curtain. He walked to the bottom of the stairs “ Emily join me in my office please” he said opening another door as i walked down the stairs and passed him into his office. He had bookcases everywhere, filled with books and awards. His desk was filled with books, open and overlapping one another. “Sit” he demanded as he walked to a bookshelf pulling off his tie and undoing a few buttons of his shirt,  while pouring himself two fingers of an amber liquor  and downing it in one go. Pouring himself another one as he spoke “ What are we going to do with you?” he mused as he turned to face me “ I.. I don't know what to say, i am so sorry..” placing a hand on my shoulder, moving his hand across my collarbone, before grabbing at the base of my neck moving up my throat to my chin and tipping my head back to look up at him. Watching him take a sip of his drink. Opening my mouth to protest him, he leaned down, sealing his mouth over mine, opening it slightly, letting the liquor into my mouth. I drank it greedily, getting hints on vanilla and caramel with a hint of a smokey oak flavor. Panting as i down the last of it, sucking on his lip for just a little more. He pulled away and smiled wickedly at me. 

“ I was right, you are her my wicked girl” my heart dropped into my stomach..fuuuck he figured it out. He swung around the chair pulling me up by my neck as he sat on the edge of his desk pulling me between his spread thighs. He growled as he took  my face in his hand. “Tell me, is that why you are so tired in my classes? Because you are out dancing every night, making men crazy as you dance on that stage under the ultraviolet lights." His other hand made its way down the front of my blouse, undoing the buttons as he went, moving down to my skirt, he dragged my skirt up to my waist, exposing my garter belt and thigh highs.

He chuckled wickedly as he began to pluck at the straps holding up my thigh highs, as I pressed my thighs together, trying to surprise my desire, he  hummed in satisfaction, moving one of his thighs to separate mine. With minimal effort he wedged his thigh between mine until I was straddling his thigh, pushing it up into my throbbing core. I failed to conceal my whimper as I bucked my hips once before going still. He brought my face closer to his, removing the hand from my throat to the other side of my hip, as he began to move my hips  back and forth applying pressure ever so slightly. Pro.. profess..sser” i struggled with my words as he hummed wickedly “ yes my wicked girl” he crooned, his eyes darkened with lust and desire. My mouth went dry and I couldn't speak. I tried but nothing was coming out. Moving my hips faster, I began to whimper helplessly  as I watched the impressive bulge in his dress pants grow bigger. I could feel myself getting wetter by the second. 

“ i've know for a while now, watching you both on that stage and in the halls, you may be innocent but you can't fool me” i could feel the approach of my impending orgasm as he continued on “ part of me wanted to be good but my wicked Emily ,” i  nodded quickly not sure how long i could hold the tidal wave back. He slipped on of his long nimble fingers into my dripping pussy, i groaned and rolled my head back as he took that finger out and began to circle my clit in a slow and tortuous circle “ the devil on my shoulders wants to know if you’ve ever cum with my name on your lips” moving my arm to his shoulder to support myself as he leaned back, picking up speed as he continued to circle my clit. “ Yes.. yes.. Almost every night” he smiled was down right sinful and delectable. “  i want to hear you” i was at my breakpoint and i did not care that i was going to sound like a whiny girl begging for a new purse or phone. “ please, professor” he tsked me several times cocking an eyebrow as i tried again “ please sherlock” i could feel the dames break., i leaned forward into his neck and buried my face in his neck as he continued to finger my pussy relentlessly, just as my first orgasm ended, another one was right behind him as i pulled back from his neck, grabbing his face between my hands, pulling him close, kissing him as i rode out my second orgasm. He swallowed my moans as if he was a starving man, greedy and wanting more, my legs began to shake as he withdrew his finger, pulling away from our kiss, he licked his finger clean before pulling me back on for another kiss, grabbing both my thighs he wrapped  them around his waist as he stood,. Turning around and depositing me on his desk. 

Breaking our kiss, resting his forehead against mine as I begged for my legs to stop shaking. His hands where still on my thighs as he began to lower himself, moving my now wet panties to the side, flattening his tongue starting at the bottom, he licked upwards in  slow strokes and circled my clit with the tip of his tongue, before standing up and smiling at me like the cat that ate the canary. Moving my panties back into place and pulling down my skirt for me as he looked me in my eyes. “ You’ll only ever dance for me now, understand? Every night at 5pm you will meet me at my car and ill bring you to my home, were you will dance for me till i cant keep my hands off you and I’ll fuck lick and suck that pretty pink pussy till ive had enough. Do you understand me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at me. I nodded “ Yes sir” . Something dark flashed across his features as he handed me my bag and scooped me up bridal style carrying me to his car. Buckling me into the passenger seat, I asked “ Where are we going?” a deep rumble echoed from his chest “ My wicked girl, i'm not done with you yet” he smiled as he drew a knuckle down my cheek, placing a soft kiss on my lips “ I expect you’ll miss your classes tomorrow" he winked, chuckling as he closed the door.

[her-satanic-wiles]

Kinktober Day 8 - Double Penetration (Two Holes)

Papa Emeritus IV x Reader x Swiss

As if spying on you through the CCTV wasn't enough, Copia decided to take it a step further, this time enlisting the help of Swiss to enact his own darkest desires, and hopefully, yours too. When surprise encounters blur the lines of consent, emotions spiral into a whirlwind of pleasure and uncertainty. As boundaries are tested, the need for open communication emerges, revealing a deeper understanding of mutual needs and safety.

Masterlist ⛧ Kinktober 2024 Masterlist ⛧ Hellish Delights Masterlist

Words: 10.9k.

Reading Time: 44 min.

Warnings: bondage (non-consensual), cheating (kind of), choking, creampie, dirty talk, degradation, drugging (consensual), fellatio, fingering, innocence kink, narratophilia, non-discussed kinks, non-consensual filming (CCTV), panty-licking, panty-sniffing, PIV sex, possessive, public sex, praise kink, rape kink, semi-public sex, skull-fucking, spanking, unprotected sex, vaginal sex

Taglist: @akayuki56 @alien-the-ghost @amazing-bobinsky @angellayercake @anonymous-appreciation @babydestinyinfluencer @bitchywitchygardener @blossomsea @call-me-little-sunshine84 @copiaspet622 @copiasslut @cosmixxdust @da-rulah @dolceterzo @dopey-fandom-girl @faithisyours @ghoulishxdelights @hauntedharmonic-ghoulishhaunter @high-above-the-city @howlingco @inkstainedrat @kaijukimchi @kenken-the-shoggoth @ledger-kaos @magopi @megachaoticstupid @meliza1001 @miss-leto @mommy-dust @neganwifey25-blog @piaart @saintbowie @shycardinale @sister-of-sin-claudia @sisterof-sin @sodoswitchimage @the-did-i-ask @xiyingly @zombiesnips-blog

Author’s Note: Hi, all!

The Ghouls aren’t demons in my fic. They’re humans who work in the Ministry, but they’re a different class of profession, somewhere between personal assistants and body guards, depending on the importance of Papa’s task.

This is a work of fiction based in the extreme horror category and should be treated as such. I do not condone the actions the characters make, nor am I actively encouraging others to participate in such actions in everyday life. It also does not reflect the personalities of the performers who play these characters.

The purpose of this fic is to shock, scare, entertain, and make readers entirely uncomfortable. If you are not in a headspace where you can safely read and enjoy this story, or even if the trigger warnings make you uncomfortable, I highly recommend and encourage you not to read this. Your mental health is more important than a work of fiction.

If you are struggling to come to terms with past trauma, please talk to someone and seek professional help.

You deserve to feel safe, loved, and cared for. Thank you.

🔞 MDNI 🔞

As this is dark fiction, I’m choosing to rate it 21+. Please respect my rating. Thank you.

“Come in!”

Papa’s voice echoed through the thick, oak door of his office, muffled yet unmistakable. With a flutter of anticipation, you opened the heavy door, peeking around its edge like a shy flower in bloom. Your innocent demeanour never failed to ignite something primal in him; his cock twitched at the sight of you.

“Ah, ___,” he purred, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he beckoned you inside.

As the door clicked shut behind you, you stepped into the dim light of the room, smoothing down your habit, feeling small and exposed under his predatory gaze. “You wanted to see me, Papa?” you asked, your voice soft but laced with curiosity.

“I did. Lock the door, schricchio,” he commanded, his tone firm yet enticing, sending shivers of exhilaration down your spine.

You nodded obediently, heart racing, as you turned to secure the door. The soft click of the lock felt like sealing your fate, drawing you deeper into his world.

Copia leaned back against his desk, his gaze intense and hungry. “Been thinking about you all day,” he said, his voice low and sultry. “Wanting those lips around my cock. Vieni qui.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, igniting a blend of desire and urgency within you. You bit your lip, a playful smile creeping across your face as you approached him, your heart racing in anticipation. The magnetic pull between you grew stronger with every step, urging you closer to him.

By the time you’d got to him, his hardness was already out and leaking at the tip. It looked angry, and red… and it made your mouth water with desire. You knelt before him, your heart racing as you wrapped your fingers around the thick shaft, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. You leaned forward, your breath ghosting over his skin, before finally wrapping your lips around him, taking him deep into your mouth.

You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, reveling in the weight of him filling your mouth. Copia groaned, a deep, primal sound that sent a thrill through you. His fingers tangled in your hair, guiding you as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper still.

“Sathanas, sei perfetto,” he breathed, his hips bucking slightly to meet your rhythm. The taste of him, salty and intoxicating, filled your senses, making you crave more. You glanced up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief, relishing the power you held over him in this moment.

Copia’s fingers tightened in your hair, urging you to take him deeper. You felt the heat pooling in your belly as you complied, drawing him in further, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat. A soft gag escaped you, but it only fueled his desire.

“Brava ragazza,” he praised, his voice thick with lust. “Just like that. You can take it.” With each bob of your head, you could feel him growing harder, and the thrill of pleasing him pushed you to go even further.

His hand became a little more forceful in your hair, a firm grip that was just shy of overwhelming. The slight pressure made your heart race, mixing exhilaration with a hint of fear that sent shivers down your spine. As your throat tightened around him, he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through you and urging you on.

“Feel that? You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, his voice husky with desire. You could taste the salty essence of him as you fought against the urge to gag, your body responding instinctively to the challenge.

With each thrust, he pushed deeper, his hips rolling in a slow rhythm that matched the pulse of your own growing arousal. You could feel the heat radiating from him, fueling your need to please him even more.

“I bet that pussy of yours is so wet right now isn’t it, tesoro?” he teased, looking down at you with hooded eyes. His pupils were blown out - filled with a lust that made him look crazy. It made your hole clench around nothing.

You hummed a confirmation, still too busy taking his cock down your throat to answer him properly. This made Copia chuckle.

His thrusts grew more insistent, the rhythm becoming a desperate push-and-pull that sent you deeper into a haze of pleasure and submission. You could feel the slickness pooling between your thighs, your body betraying your intentions as your arousal heightened with every movement.

Just as you felt the telltale tightening in Copia’s belly, he suddenly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a soft, lingering pop. The sudden absence sent a jolt of frustration coursing through you, a desperate whimper escaping your throat as you instinctively leaned forward, craving the fullness that had just been taken away. You looked up at him, your eyes wide with need, ready to plead for more.

But your gaze was drawn away, shifting to the computer screen on his desk. The live CCTV feed showcased a vivid and shocking scene: you and Swiss entwined in the library, bodies moving in a frenzied dance of passion. Swiss’s hands gripped your waist as he thrust into you, and you could see the way your back arched under his powerful touch, the sheer ecstasy painted across your face. The sight was both thrilling and mortifying, igniting a tempest of emotions within you—embarrassment, excitement, and an overwhelming desire to be desired.

Copia leaned back, a predatory smile curling on his lips as he noticed your reaction. “Looks like you’ve been busy, amore,” he teased, his voice low and sultry, filled with dark amusement that sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t look away from the screen, his eyes glinting with a possessive hunger as he took in the sight of you being ravaged by another man. “Is this how you repay me for my kindness?”

Your cheeks flushed with heat at the realization that he was watching, enjoying the display. Despite the embarrassment flooding through you, a thrill of excitement twisted in your stomach. You were being claimed by both men, caught in a web of desire that made your heart race.

“Doesn’t he make you feel good?” Copia pressed, his fingers trailing along your jawline, tilting your head up so you were forced to meet his intense gaze. “Look at how he takes you, how he fills you up. Tell me how much you enjoy it.” His voice was a dangerous mix of challenge and allure, coaxing you to reveal your deepest desires.

The air was thick with tension, your body reacting to both the sight on the screen and his commanding presence. You felt the slickness pooling between your thighs, the undeniable evidence of your arousal. With every thrust Swiss delivered in the footage, your own body ached for that same pleasure, a visceral need that begged for release.

“I love it, Papa,” you replied, your voice a sultry whisper as you looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes, kneeling before him in a practically sinful pose. The air was thick with tension, and your heart raced as you felt the weight of his gaze.

Copia stood up, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he began to remove his clothes, revealing his toned body piece by piece. “Strip,” he ordered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. You obeyed eagerly, peeling off your garments, feeling exposed yet exhilarated under his intense scrutiny.

“Now, get on that chair,” he commanded, gesturing toward the ornate chair that he was just sat on. “On your knees, holding onto the back. Proprio così. I’m going to fuck you while you watch yourself getting fucked by him.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a wave of excitement crashing over you. You moved to the chair, positioning yourself just as he instructed, your heart pounding in anticipation. The cool wood pressed against your palms as you gripped the backrest, and you turned your head slightly, stealing a glance at the screen.

As you settled into position, Copia stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. You could feel the heat radiating off him, a stark contrast to the cool air around you. “You like watching, don’t you?” he purred, running a hand along your back, teasingly brushing against your skin.

“Y-yes, Papa,” you stammered, a thrill running through you as you caught sight of yourself in the feed—Swiss’s powerful thrusts pushing you to the edge of ecstasy.

“Good girl,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. He positioned himself behind you, his breath hot against your ear. “Keep your eyes on that screen. I want you to see how much you enjoy this.”

As he entered you, the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through your body, and you gasped, a moan escaping your lips. Copia’s thick cock stretched you, filling you completely and igniting a fire deep within. He started with a slow, deliberate thrust, relishing the feeling of you wrapped around him. You bit your lip, desperately trying to focus on the screen, the sight of Swiss thrusting into your other self almost too much to bear.

“Keep watching,” Copia urged, his voice a deep rumble behind you, sending shivers down your spine. “I want you to see how much you’re enjoying him while I fuck you.”

Your eyes darted to the feed, the image of Swiss’s powerful form moving against you, claiming you with each thrust. The way your back arched under him, the pleasure painted across your face, was mesmerizing. It was intoxicating to see yourself so utterly lost in desire, and it only fueled the hunger inside you.

Copia found a rhythm, his thrusts deep and punishing, pulling you closer to the edge with every movement. You felt yourself getting wetter, the slick sounds of your bodies colliding mingling with the lewd noises filling the room. “Sei così cazzo stretta,” he groaned, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you harder. “So tight for me.”

You could feel every inch of him, the heat radiating from his body, the weight of him pressing you into the chair. You moaned again, the sound nearly drowning out the wet slaps of skin on skin. “Please, Papa,” you gasped, wanting him to go deeper, to take you harder.

“Such a needy little thing,” he chuckled darkly, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “Just remember, you wanted this. You wanted both of us.” He increased his pace, the sound of your moans filling the air as he hit that perfect spot inside you, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

Your gaze remained fixed on the screen, watching yourself get taken by Swiss. The way his hands gripped your thighs, how he thrust with abandon, ignited something primal within you. You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter.

“Look at you, tesoro,” Copia purred, his voice a low growl. “You’re nothing but a whore for our cocks.” He punctuated his words with another thrust, sending you spiraling closer to your climax.

“What was he whispering into your ear then? Dimmi,” Copia asked, his voice dripping with a mixture of curiosity and possessiveness, his thrusts never faltering as he maintained his relentless pace.

You hesitated for just a moment, caught between the pleasure of the moment and the thrill of his question. The memory of Swiss’s breath hot against your skin surged to the forefront of your mind. “He… he told me how g-good I looked, how much he wanted me,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a breathy whisper.

Copia’s grip on your hips tightened, and he thrust deeper, his eyes narrowing with a mix of jealousy and arousal. “Good,” he growled, clearly relishing your confession. “You’re mine to play with, and I want you to remember that.”

You could feel the heat radiating from him, each powerful thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The way he was fucking you, coupled with the image of Swiss still on the screen, was intoxicating. It felt wrong, but it felt so good.

“What else did he say?” Copia pressed, his voice low and commanding, his breath warm against the back of your neck.

“He said… he wanted to m-make me scream,” you managed to say, biting your lip as another wave of pleasure washed over you. The thought of Swiss’s primal hunger for you only added to your arousal, and you couldn’t help but moan, “I loved it.” Your hand snaked down to your clit, touching yourself and stroking yourself quickly as Copia kept the pace.

Copia’s eyes darkened, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Then scream for me,” he urged, his pace quickening, each thrust driving you higher into ecstasy.

You let out a loud moan, the sound echoing around the room as the pressure inside you built to a near unbearable intensity. The combination of his powerful thrusts and the sight of yourself being taken by Swiss on the screen was overwhelming.

“Louder!” Copia commanded, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you firmly in place as he fucked you relentlessly. “I want to hear how much you love this. I want him to.”

With every thrust, he pushed you closer to the edge. “I l-love it, Papa!” you cried out, feeling the heat pooling in your belly, ready to explode. “I love h-how you fill me up! Fuck - you f-feel so fucking g-good!”

Copia’s breath hitched at your words, and he thrust deeper, hitting that sweet spot that made your vision blur with pleasure. “That’s right, amore. Let everyone know how much you enjoy being our little whore,” he growled, his voice low and dripping with lust.

You could feel your body responding to his command, the waves of pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave. With each thrust, the urgency built, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter within you. “I’m so close, Papa,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the back of the chair as you surrendered completely to the sensation.

“Then let go,” he urged, his pace relentless as he pushed you to the brink. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

With a final, deep thrust, you felt yourself tumble over the edge, a cry of ecstasy tearing from your lips as your orgasm washed over you, every muscle in your body tightening in a delicious wave of bliss.

As your orgasm washed over you, it felt as if time had momentarily stopped. A wave of bliss surged through your body, electrifying every nerve ending as your core tightened around Copia’s thick cock. The pleasure was a fiery explosion, radiating from the depths of your belly and sending shivers coursing down your spine. You could feel the warmth of your release spilling over, soaking you and amplifying the sensation.

But as you surrendered to the ecstasy, your eyes remained fixated on the screen, captivated by the sight of yourself being taken by Swiss. Watching your other self writhe under his touch intensified the experience, making your cheeks flush with a mixture of arousal and embarrassment. It was surreal to see your pleasure mirrored on screen, the way you arched your back, lost in a haze of desire.

The sight of Swiss thrusting into you while you were being claimed by Copia was intoxicating. You could almost feel the echoes of his movements reverberating through your body, a reminder of how badly you craved that attention. You gasped as your other self moaned, the sounds a chorus of pleasure that only heightened your own arousal. Each cry of bliss you heard from the screen became a visceral reminder of your need to be desired, to be owned.

“Look at yourself,” Copia urged, his voice a dark whisper that sent another thrill through you. “Look how much you love it.”

In that moment, you felt like two halves of the same whole—one side wholly submissive, lost in Copia’s thrusts, while the other side reveled in the wild abandon Swiss had brought out in you. The duality of it all made you ache with need, igniting a fire within that threatened to consume you entirely.

With a final, deep thrust, Copia buried himself inside you, the heat of his release spilling into you. The sensation was overwhelming, a rush of warmth that filled you completely and sent aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body. His groans echoed in your ear, a sound that made your heart race as you relished the feeling of being utterly owned by him.

“Sathanas, you’re perfect,” he gasped, his grip tightening on your hips as he held you against him, riding out the waves of his climax. Each pulse of his cock sent another jolt of pleasure through you, making you keen softly, the remnants of your own orgasm still lingering in the air.

As you both caught your breath, you couldn’t help but glance back at the screen. The image of Swiss still ravaging you played on repeat, your other self lost in ecstasy, eyes rolled back and mouth open in a silent scream of bliss. The sight only intensified your arousal, reminding you of how you’d been shared, how both men had taken you in their own ways, except Swiss was completely unaware of it.

The reality of what had just transpired washed over you, and a rush of mixed emotions flooded your senses—satisfaction, exhilaration, and a hint of guilt. But as you felt Copia’s warm body against yours, you couldn’t help but crave more.

“Now, run off to Swiss like you promised him,” Copia commented, smacking your ass as if he were punctuating his sentence with it. The sharp sting sent a delightful shiver through you, and you turned to look back at him, your heart racing. The playful authority in his voice stirred something deep inside, a longing to please him even as you prepared to rush to Swiss.

“Yes, Papa,” you replied breathlessly, the thrill of obedience coursing through you. You could still feel the warmth of Copia’s release inside you, and it made your cheeks flush as you imagined what Swiss would do next.

You quickly slipped off the chair, your body still tingling from the intensity of the moment. As you headed towards the door, you glanced back at Copia one last time. His expression was a mix of satisfaction and possessiveness, and it only fueled the fire of desire within you.

“Don’t keep him waiting,” he added with a smirk, his tone a mix of teasing and command. You nodded eagerly, knowing you were about to step into another thrilling encounter.

Copia had been gentle with you as of late, and today was no exception. But there was a part of him that wanted to let the animal out - almost compete with Asmodeus when he first hurt you. That primal instinct simmered just beneath the surface, tugging at him, urging him to unleash his darker desires.

As you rushed to find Swiss, Copia’s thoughts raced, torn between the tenderness he felt for you and the raw, feral need that clawed at his insides. He wanted to claim you in a way that left no doubt of who you belonged to, to show you that his power was unyielding.

The image of you writhing under Swiss’s control danced in his mind, a juxtaposition of pleasure and pain that both excited and enraged him. Would you enjoy it if he pushed you further, made you feel the thrill of submission wrapped in intensity? The idea sent a surge of lust through him, igniting a dark flame that was hard to ignore.

He wanted you to feel every bit of it—to know that he could take you apart, piece by piece, but still leave you whole in the end. A part of him yearned for that sweet spot where pleasure and pain intertwined, where the lines blurred, and the thrill of domination reigned supreme.

He wanted to see the terror in your eyes again, mixed with that intoxicating pleasure that he saw right before you passed out. He wanted to experience your fear again after the last time, take what he wanted from you, and now from Swiss.

The gears began to set in motion.

Days later, Copia summoned Swiss to his office, a sense of anticipation bubbling within him. As he paced the room, he could feel the tension thickening in the air, a palpable electricity crackling around him. This was going to be a game of control, one where he would remind both you and Swiss who held the power.

When Swiss entered, the casual confidence in his demeanor was evident, but Copia could see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “Ah, Swiss,” he greeted, a predatory smile spreading across his face. “I have something special in mind for us today.”

Swiss raised an eyebrow, a hint of intrigue mingled with wariness in his gaze. “What’s on your mind, Papa?”

Copia leaned against the desk, feigning casual interest as Swiss savored the drink. “You know, I appreciate how you’ve been… attentive to our little one. It’s nice to see you both enjoying yourselves.”

Swiss frowned, the tension in the air thickening. “What are you talking about, Papa?”

“Oh, she hasn’t told you?”

Swiss shook his head.

Copia sat on his desk chair, the same one he’d had you on just days ago. “The first night, after Asmodeus took over your body, you visited her in the hospital, didn’t you?”

Swiss’ eyes widened. “N-no, I would never. I-”

Copia raised his hand. “It was all caught on CCTV, Swiss. You can’t hide it. Nor every single time after that. It was hot to watch.

“When she was almost healed she came to me and begged for you not to be punished at all,” Copia continued, taking a sip of his own drink. “Turned out it was because she wanted to keep you balls deep inside her, huh?”

“You need to know that everything that happened afterwards was consensual.”

“Of course it was. You’re a good man. You both had your bodies used against your wills, naturally you’d bond over it and make it the front of your sexual activities.”

“Forgive me, Papa, but where is this going?”

“She’s been spreading her legs for me, too. The day she begged for your lack of punishment, I took her right there.” Copia pointed to the spot on the floor where he fucked you for the first time. “And she told me all about you…”

Swiss’s expression shifted from surprise to an uneasy understanding, his brow furrowing as he processed Copia’s words. “You… you’re saying she chose this? That she wanted you?” he asked, a hint of incredulity lacing his voice.

“No, she wants both of us,” Copia reminded him, his voice cool and steady. “Your body was the one that gave her the trauma, mine was the one that stopped it. But either way, she likes it when we both destroy her.”

Swiss’s eyes widened as he absorbed Copia’s revelation, the weight of it heavy in the air between them. “Destroy her? You mean… together?”

“Exactly,” Copia replied, leaning forward slightly, his intensity palpable. “We’re going to give her everything she craves. She needs both of us to push her limits, to explore the boundaries of pleasure and pain. She wants the chaos that only we can provide.”

Swiss felt a rush of conflicting emotions—desire for you mingled with a sense of protectiveness and uncertainty. “And what if she can’t handle it? What if we go too far?”

Copia’s gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. “That’s for her to decide. You need to learn that she thrives on this, Swiss. It’s a part of who she is now. And it’s our job to indulge her.”

“Indulge her, or break her?” Swiss shot back, unable to suppress the defensiveness creeping into his voice.

Copia chuckled darkly, the sound low and menacing. “There’s a fine line between the two, my friend. But we both love to see her broken.”

Swiss hesitated, weighing his options. The prospect of joining you in this dark dance both thrilled and terrified him. But one thing was clear: he was no longer in control, and that realization sent a shiver down his spine.

“Alright, Papa,” Swiss finally replied, steeling himself. “I’m in. Let’s see where this goes. What did you have in mind?”

Copia’s plan unfolded like a dark tapestry, rich with layers of tension and desire. He envisioned a scenario that would play with the boundaries of fear and pleasure, designed to draw out every reaction from you and Swiss. The atmosphere would be thick with an ominous energy, the room dimly lit, shadows flickering against the walls, creating an unsettling yet tantalizing ambiance. And you were none the wiser.

*

You knocked at Copia’s door, expecting the usual soft command to enter. But this time, there was no answer, only an eerie silence pressing in on you. You knocked at Copia’s door again, harder this time, but the silence felt oppressive, seeping through the thick wood. Something was wrong. The faint glow from under the door flickered like dying embers, casting eerie shadows across the hallway. A chill ran down your spine as you hesitantly pushed it open, the darkness inside swallowing you whole.

The room was colder than usual, a stale, suffocating air hanging heavy. As your eyes scanned the dim space, they landed on Swiss. He was tied to a chair, ropes digging deep into his wrists and ankles, his head sagging forward, unconscious. The dim, flickering light barely illuminated his pale face, a smear of blood at his temple glistening faintly.

Your heart raced, your breath catching in your throat as you rushed toward him, instincts screaming at you to help him. But just as you neared, an icy grip clamped around your arm. The door slammed shut behind you with an ominous finality. A scream clawed its way up your throat, but before it could escape, a large, gloved hand covered your mouth.

Copia stood behind you, his body pressing against yours, holding you firmly in place. His breath was hot against your ear, but his presence felt like an arctic wind, chilling you to the core. You struggled, but he was unyielding, his grip like iron.

“Shh,” he whispered, his voice a low, sinister murmur that sent shivers down your spine. “I wouldn’t scream if I were you. Not unless you want to wake him up…”

Your eyes darted back to Swiss, his motionless figure somehow more haunting in the oppressive quiet. The ropes that bound him creaked as if they were alive, and the stillness of the room became suffocating, the walls seeming to close in on you. Every inch of you screamed to break free, but Copia’s grip only tightened, his fingers pressing hard against your skin.

He inhaled, smelling your hair as you were so close to him. It felt weird, wrong almost, coming from him. But you couldn’t help the sharp pang of arousal that flooded your veins and pooled in your stomach. There was something wrong with you for enjoying this - but it felt so good.

You froze, the heat of his breath contrasting with the icy grip he had on you. The sound of your heart hammered in your ears, the room closing in as his whisper lingered in the silence. You tried to look at Swiss again, your mind racing, wondering how he ended up like this—bound and bloodied, helpless in the chair.

“Look at him,” Copia growled, his voice rougher now. “So helpless. He thought he had power over you… but we both know where the real power lies, don’t we?” His fingers trailed down your arm, sending shivers through you, though it wasn’t entirely from fear.

Your pulse quickened, your body betraying you as it reacted to the closeness of him. The tension in the room was thick, choking, yet the thrill that surged through you was undeniable. There was something disturbingly exhilarating about the danger—his touch, the helplessness of Swiss, the silence that pressed down on your chest. You hated that it aroused you, but the more you tried to deny it, the deeper the need curled in your stomach.

Copia’s hand slid to your waist, pressing you harder against him. “He’ll wake up soon, tesoro,” he whispered darkly. “When that drink wears off. And when he does, I want him to see just how much you enjoy this. To understand that I’m in control… of you both.”

A breath hitched in your throat. It was wrong, so wrong, but the way his grip anchored you, the weight of his dominance, made you ache in a way that left you burning with shame and desire. Every brush of his gloved hand sent sparks skittering over your skin, the soft creak of leather filling the room.

You glanced at Swiss, his head still drooping forward, unaware of the storm gathering around him. The guilt gnawed at you, but the dark thrill in Copia’s words rooted you in place.

“What’s the matter?” Copia taunted, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You’ve wanted this all along, haven’t you? A piece of both of us. Don’t pretend it doesn’t excite you… I can feel it.”

Your body betrayed you, a soft gasp escaping your lips. You wanted to resist, but as Copia pressed closer, every fiber of your being craved the release that only he could grant.

“W-why are you doing this?” you asked, squirming in his grip, trying to make sense of the situation as dread mixed with desire in your veins.

“We’ve both been gentle on you for so long, haven’t we, tesoro?” Copia’s voice took on a patronizing tone, dripping with mock sympathy. “You still think about it, don’t you? Every time Swiss fucks you, you still hear and feel Asmodeus, sì?” His words cut deep, bringing back the memories that haunted your most intimate moments. The truth in his voice stung, as he revealed what you’d kept buried for so long.

Copia’s fingers dug slightly deeper into your flesh, grounding you in place as his words crawled under your skin. “You liked it, didn’t you? The way your body still reacts… It’s why you come back to us, even when you should be terrified.”

His words were poison, twisting in your mind, but beneath the layers of dread, there was something else—a flicker of undeniable arousal. The shame burned hot in your chest, but you couldn’t stop the way your body responded to his touch, to his words.

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck. “Tonight, we remind you who you belong to… who has the power over you. Swiss won’t save you from this. You’ll take what we give you.”

The fear in your voice didn’t match the heat spreading through your body as you whispered, “Papa, no… please!” The words were instinctual, slipping past your lips as fear tangled with desire. But you didn’t truly mean them. Not at all.

Copia paused for a fraction of a second, his voice dropping the menacing tone for just a heartbeat. “Are you using your safe word, tesoro?” he asked, his mask slipping just enough for you to recognize the safety hidden beneath the performance.

And that was when it hit you—this was all a setup. A carefully crafted scene designed to push you, to test you. In that moment, you understood. No matter what was coming, you were safe. Even if a small, dark part of you didn’t want to be.

Copia’s grip loosened, but only slightly, just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to free yourself. He was still in control, his presence looming large over you. The power dynamics at play were intoxicating, the push and pull between fear and trust blurring into something dangerously exciting.

“No, Papa.” You whimpered. You could feel his hardness pressing into your back. He wanted this so badly, too.

“What do you want? Tell me.”

“I want to leave. I… I want you to let me go.”

Copia moved a hand up to your throat and squeezed. “Liar. Tell the truth.”

“I am! Please!”

“You want me to take you, don’t you? Force you to take what I give you.”

“Papa, please!”

“Say it.”

The other hand moved down to the hem of your habit and gripped you over your sodden panties and feeling the soaked fabric, a low, approving growl rumbling from his chest. Immediately your hips bucked, trying to chase the pleasure that was coming your way.

You gasped, trying to suppress the moan that threatened to escape. “No… I don’t want this,” you whimpered, but your hips betrayed you, bucking involuntarily into his touch. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, but you couldn’t give in. Not yet.

Copia’s thumb pressed against your soaked core, sending a jolt of pleasure through you, but you bit down hard, refusing to let it consume you. “Is that why you’re dripping for me?” he taunted, his grip on your throat tightening just enough to remind you of the control he held. “You want this, even if you won’t admit it.”

You shook your head weakly, though the throbbing heat between your legs told a different story. “No… I don’t…” you whispered, the words faltering as he slid your panties to the side, his fingers teasing your slick entrance.

“Say it,” he demanded, his fingers now dangerously close to plunging inside. “Say you want me to take what’s mine.”

You began to fight back, desperately trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but his hold on you was too strong. Each attempt only made him tighten his grip further, a low, dark chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Do you really think you can escape me, tesoro?” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, sending a thrill of fear and excitement coursing through you. Every time you moved, you felt his cock on you. That hard, hot, heavy, delicious cock your cunt was screaming for.

“Stop!” you cried, but the protest felt weak even to your own ears. Copia reveled in your struggle, using it to stoke the fire of his desire.

“Tell me you want this, and I might consider letting you go,” he murmured, pressing against you, the hardness of his body a constant reminder of the power he held. The tension in the room thickened as you fought to maintain your defiance, even as every nerve ending screamed for release.

With each thrust of his fingers against your sensitive skin, the words caught in your throat. You wanted to resist, to keep fighting against the tidal wave of pleasure building within you, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. The war between your body and your mind intensified, creating a delicious tension that left you gasping for breath.

Copia’s hands left your body suddenly, and before you could process the shift, he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you toward the centre of the room. You stumbled, thrown off balance as he flung you onto the floor in front of Swiss, who remained unconscious and oblivious to the scene unfolding around him.

Your heart raced as you looked up at Copia, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger. “Now, let’s see how much you truly want this,” he purred, a sinister smile creeping across his lips.

You felt exposed and vulnerable, the coolness of the floor beneath you contrasting sharply with the heat pooling in your core. The sight of Swiss, bound and helpless, heightened the thrill coursing through you. Copia knelt beside you, his presence overpowering as he leaned in closer. “Do you see him? Do you see what I’ve done for you?”

He brushed his fingers against your cheek, the touch both possessive and electrifying. “You’re going to show him just how much you crave this… whether you admit it or not.”

Your breaths quickened, caught between fear and anticipation. Your habit had risen up completely at this point, exposing not only your soiled panties but your midriff too. You could feel the cold air swirling around you as your legs remained spread out, body betraying how much you truly wanted and loved this.

Copia, sensing your vulnerability, positioned himself above you, his weight pressing down in a way that made your heart race. With a firm grip on your hips, he held you down, anchoring you to the floor as he leaned closer. You could feel his breath hot against your skin, a mix of lust and something more primal radiating from him.

He inhaled deeply, the scent of your panties intoxicating him. “Sathanas, you smell sinful,” he murmured, a wicked grin stretching across his face. “I can’t wait to taste you again.” The way he spoke made it clear that he was relishing every moment of your submission, drawing out your anticipation.

As he continued to breathe in your essence, your body responded involuntarily, a mix of arousal and shame flooding through you. You wanted to protest, to assert your agency, but his grip on your hips kept you firmly in place, leaving you torn between pleasure and fighting him with everything you had.

Copia’s grip on your hips remained unyielding as he savoured the intoxicating scent emanating from your panties. A wicked smile played across his lips as he lowered his mouth closer, his breath teasing the fabric. He flicked his tongue out, trailing it across the wet cotton, tasting the remnants of your arousal.

You bit back a moan.

“Delicious,” he breathed, the sound reverberating in your core. He licked again, each swipe sending shockwaves of heat through your body, intensifying the delicious tension between pleasure and shame. Your eyes fluttered closed, torn between wanting him to continue and the desperate need to assert your resistance. “You taste even better when you’re scared.”

He licked a few more times, relishing the way your body responded to him, before suddenly tearing the panties from your body, the sound echoing in the stillness of the room. The fabric ripped away with a swift, unforgiving motion, leaving you bare and exposed before him.

You gasped at the suddenness, your heart racing as a thrill coursed through you, igniting every nerve ending in your body. Copia leaned back, eyes darkened with desire, taking in the sight of you—vulnerable and aching for his touch. “Now we can play properly,” he said, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he hovered over you, ready to take what he wanted.

Copia’s eyes darkened with a primal hunger as he held your gaze, the air between you thick with tension. Without a moment’s hesitation, he plunged into you, his movement fierce and relentless. The force of him filling you was like a bolt of electricity, sparking every nerve ending to life. Your body reacted instinctively, arching into him, desperate for more even as your mind fought against the sheer intensity of it all.

“Feel that?” he growled, his voice low and rough like gravel. Each thrust was merciless, a raw power that left no room for gentleness. The floor beneath you felt cold and hard, but the contrast only heightened your senses, the sensation of being claimed on that unforgiving surface igniting a fire within you.

He took you with an urgency that left no space for hesitation, his hips driving against you with a force that made you gasp. You could hear the wet sound of skin meeting skin, a primal rhythm that echoed in the quiet room. Copia’s grip on your hips was firm, almost possessive, anchoring you as he thrust deeper and deeper.

With every movement, he made it clear that you were entirely at his mercy. “This is mine. You’re mine,” he declared, the words a possessive growl that sent shivers down your spine. The mixture of pain and pleasure was intoxicating, blurring the lines between the two as he lost himself in you.

Your breath hitched as he pressed down harder, the intensity of it all washing over you in waves. You felt utterly consumed by him, your body responding to his every thrust, every growl, even as your mind screamed for a semblance of control. But you were lost in the moment, your body betraying you with every muffled moan that escaped your lips.

Copia’s rhythm became more frantic, his desire palpable as he pushed you closer to the edge. The world around you faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you—wrapped in a haze of ecstasy and raw, unbridled passion.

Copia’s hunger intensified as he felt you tighten around him, urging him to push further. With a primal growl, he seized the hem of your habit, ripping it open with a feral urgency that echoed the first time Asmodeus had laid hands on you.

That earned him a loud moan.

The fabric tore apart, exposing your skin to the cool air, a rush of vulnerability coursing through you. He watched your body bounce off his cock, tits thighs jiggling as he took what he wanted. The bra was the last piece of clothing in tact, but he’d get rid of that soon enough. “Look at you,” he breathed, his eyes glinting with a mix of desire and triumph. “So perfectly spread for me.”

The sensation of the ripped fabric against your skin heightened every thrust, merging pleasure and raw exposure into an intoxicating mix that left you breathless. The remnants of your habit pooled around you like discarded armor, a stark reminder of the innocence he was so willingly stripping away, and you were so willing to give.

Moans ripped from your throat wantonly, screeching out just how good it felt. Each thrust pushed you further into a whirlwind of sensation, each deep stroke igniting a fire that consumed you whole. Your body betrayed you, arching back against him as pleasure washed over you in waves, drowning out any remnants of resistance. The connection between you grew stronger with every push and pull, a primal rhythm that resonated through the room. He claimed you fiercely, and in that moment, all that mattered was the raw, intoxicating ecstasy of being utterly his.

Copia’s thrusts became more demanding, each one a declaration of his ownership as he savored every moment, his body driving against yours with a fierce need. Your heart raced as you realized that this was more than just a physical act; it was a reclaiming, a deepening of the dark connection that bound you together.

Copia’s hands slipped from your hips as he began to peel off his robes, each layer of fabric revealing more of his soft form, the contours of his chunk gleaming under the dim light. For a brief moment, a rush of adrenaline surged through you, igniting a primal instinct to escape. You pushed yourself out from beneath him, scrambling to crawl away, the cold floor sending shivers through your exposed skin.

As you crawled away, your heart pounded in your chest, fueled by the thrill of attempting to escape. But the moment was fleeting, as he effortlessly grabbed your ankles, yanking you back toward him with a possessive grip. The floor felt cold against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his body.

“Not so fast,” he growled, pulling you closer until your back pressed against his bare chest. You could feel the strength in his arms, the warmth of his skin igniting a mix of fear and desire within you. With a firm yet sensual motion, he positioned you, sinking into you once more from behind, every thrust deepening the connection between pleasure and raw surrender.

He filled you completely, driving into you with a relentless intensity that stole your breath. The world around you faded, leaving just the sensation of him filling you, his body moving with purpose as he claimed you. Each thrust was a reminder of his dominance, and you felt yourself giving in, body responding eagerly to his every move, your mind battling between resistance and the undeniable pleasure he offered.

Copia’s wicked grin widened as he surveyed the scene, his predatory instincts igniting with excitement. With a sudden, decisive motion, he pulled out of you, leaving a void that had you gasping for breath. The rush of cold air against your slick skin sent a shiver down your spine, amplifying the anticipation swirling in the room.

His hands moved quickly, deftly peeling off your clothes, fabric tearing under his forceful grip. The sound of your bra ripping apart echoed, a stark reminder of your vulnerability as you were laid bare before him. The cool air kissed your skin, heightening your senses and making your pulse race.

“Now, let’s see how this feels,” he said, voice low and husky, as he positioned your arms over Swiss’s thighs. You could feel the weight of his unconscious body beneath you, the solidness of him contrasting sharply with the chaos of emotions swirling inside you.

With your arms resting on Swiss’s thighs, you were completely exposed, a living plaything between them. Copia held you firm, positioning you just right as he thrust back into you with unrelenting force, each movement causing your body to jolt against Swiss. You felt the dual sensations of pleasure and danger, your heart racing as the thrill coursed through you.

Copia’s grip on your waist was possessive, each thrust deeper and harder, a rhythmic claim that reverberated through your core. The weight of Swiss’s unconscious form added a layer of intoxicating risk, your body trapped between the two of them as Copia filled you completely. The feeling of being so utterly controlled ignited a fire within you, a yearning that sent waves of pleasure washing over you, drowning out the nagging voice of protest in your mind.

Every thrust felt like a declaration, and with each powerful movement, Copia sent you spiraling further into a whirlwind of desire and surrender. You were his—no longer a person but a vessel for their desires, caught in a dizzying dance of power and submission. The world around you blurred, leaving only the primal rhythm of Copia’s body moving against yours, a tempest of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

You watched as Swiss’s body reacted to Copia’s relentless movements, his form jolting with the force of you against him. The sight was intoxicating, a reminder of the dangerous game you were caught in. You could feel yourself tightening around Copia, betraying the resolve you thought you had. You shouldn’t be enjoying this; it felt so wrong yet so utterly exhilarating, your mind racing to reconcile the conflicting sensations. Each thrust sent shivers down your spine, blurring the line between pleasure and the haunting echo of fear, making your heart race.

Swiss stirred, consciousness creeping back into him as he groaned softly, his body reacting instinctively to the movements around him. The moment his eyes fluttered open, confusion morphed into shock as he took in the sight before him. Your hands clawed at his thighs, seeking something—perhaps a connection or a plea for help—but the confusion in his gaze quickly shifted as he processed the scenario.

Copia remained unphased, a devilish smirk on his lips, relishing the chaos he had orchestrated. He thrived on the intensity of the moment, the primal energy thrumming through the room, as Swiss’s eyes darted from you to Copia, uncertainty mixing with a flicker of understanding. Your body was taut, a taut string vibrating between two powerful forces, and with every thrust from Copia, you felt the tension spiral higher. You were caught in a web of desire and confusion, the line between pleasure and panic becoming ever more blurred.

“Good of you to finally join us,” Copia said, his voice breathless and laced with pleasure, a dark glimmer in his eyes as he relished Swiss’s confusion and surprise.

Swiss’s gaze flickered between you and Copia, his expression a mixture of disbelief and awakening desire. The reality of the situation settled over him like a thick fog, and he instinctively tightened his grip on the chair, trying to process the chaotic blend of sensations and emotions swirling around him. You were still clawing at his thighs, a silent plea for something you couldn’t quite articulate.

Copia’s gaze flickered down to Swiss, a knowing smile creeping across his face as he caught the faint outline of Swiss’s arousal beneath his clothes. The air thickened with tension, and you felt the heat radiating off both of them, each lost in the tangled web of desire that had ensnared you all.

“Look at him,” Copia teased, his voice a sultry whisper that dripped with mockery. “Our dear Swiss is starting to enjoy the show. Can’t deny what he’s feeling, can he? What do you think, tesoro? Does he want to join in on the fun?”

Your heart raced as you processed the implications of his words, the heat pooling in your stomach, both thrilling and terrifying. Swiss’s expression shifted from shock to something deeper, the flush spreading across his cheeks betraying his arousal, igniting a spark of defiance within you. Copia leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear, revelling in the charged atmosphere that surrounded you.

Swiss finally spoke, his throat dry and scratchy from his slumber. “Did you want him to do this, ___?” He asked. It looked like he was about to step in and help you.

You had to nod. “I w-want it!” You screamed, clenching tightly around Copia’s cock.

Swiss nodded and looked at Copia. “Can I drop the act now, or…?”

Your eyes widened when you realised Swiss was in on it, too. Dread shot down your spine alongside the arousal that already lived there.

Copia’s smirk widened at Swiss’s words, the glint in his eyes growing darker. “Oh, but I think the act suits you, Swiss,” he replied, his tone dripping with mockery. “It adds an air of mystery, doesn’t it? But if you want to drop it, I wouldn’t stop you. After all, we both know she’s been craving something a bit more thrilling.” He leaned closer, his voice a sultry whisper, “Let’s give her what she wants, shall we?” The air crackled with unspoken tension as the two of them conspired, your heart racing with a blend of dread and excitement.

Swiss wriggled out of the ropes, so loose that it was proof that they were only there for your benefit. He frees himself from his jeans and dangles himself in front of you, teasing you.

“Don’t give it to her yet, Swiss,” Copia suggested, keeping his pace. “Make her beg for it.”

“You heard him,” Swiss told you. “Beg Papa to give you my cock.”

You hesitated at first, not wanting to show you wanted this. But, eventually, it became too much.

Your breaths came in shallow gasps, a mixture of desire and humiliation swirling within you. “I—I want it, Papa-ah!” you stammered, your voice trembling as the heat pooled in your core. “Please… I need it! Fuck! I need Swiss inside… inside me.”

The words tumbled out, each one laced with desperation, and you could feel the weight of their gazes on you, pushing you further into submission. “I can’t take it anymore… Please, I’ll do anything!” The urgency in your voice left no doubt about how over how much you needed it.

Copia laughed. “Puttana,” he hissed. “I knew you wanted it all along.”

“I d-did. H-holy shit, Papa! Please… don’t stop!”

Copia’s gaze darkened with a mix of lust and amusement as he watched you squirm, your vulnerability hanging thick in the air. “Alright, tesoro,” he drawled, a wicked smile on his lips. “You’ve begged so nicely, I think it’s time to give you what you want.”

With that, he pulled away, releasing you just enough to give Swiss the green light. “Go on then, give her everything she craves.” His voice was thick with anticipation as he leaned back, watching you both with keen interest, eager to see how this would unfold.

You steadied your breath, feeling the electric tension in the air as you leaned in closer to Swiss. His scent enveloped you, a mix of musk and desire, igniting a primal urge within. With a shiver of anticipation, you opened your mouth, letting your tongue dart out to tease the tip of his cock.

You took a moment to savour him, letting your warmth envelop the head as you swirled your tongue around it, tasting the salty essence that pooled there. His breath hitched as you started to take him deeper, inch by tantalising inch. You felt the heat radiating off him, a delicious reminder of the power you held in this moment.

With each movement, you took him further into your mouth, the soft, warm flesh of your lips brushing against him. You could feel him thickening, filling your mouth completely. You pulled back just enough to catch your breath, then sank down again, feeling the way he brushed against the back of your throat.

Your hands moved instinctively, one gripping the base of his shaft while the other rested on his thigh, fingers digging into the firm muscle as you began to find a rhythm. The wet sounds of your mouth working him mingled with the sharp gasps that escaped his lips, each one driving you to push further, to take more.

The world around you faded as you focused solely on the sensation—the taste, the heat, the sound of him losing himself to the pleasure you were giving. You quickened your pace, letting your lips glide up and down, taking him deeper, feeling him pulse against your tongue. You relished the feeling of him growing harder, the way his body responded to your every movement.

You could feel the heat building within you, a need for more. The thrill of submission and dominance tangled together in an intoxicating mix, urging you to push further, to lose yourself entirely in the act of worshipping him.

As you continued to take him into your mouth, Swiss’s patience began to wear thin. With a low growl, he grasped your hair, fingers threading through it firmly but not painfully, and guided your movements, taking control of the rhythm.

“Enough of this teasing,” he said, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you properly.” He pulled you back just enough to look you in the eyes, heat swirling between you, and with a swift motion, he thrust his hips forward, driving deeper into your mouth.

You gasped around him, the sudden intensity sending shivers down your spine. He took your reaction as encouragement, his grip tightening as he started to guide your head back and forth, establishing a pace that made your breath hitch. The desperation of his thrusts mixed with your eagerness, each thrust forcing you to take him deeper, your throat tightening around him.

With each thrust, he held your gaze, a wicked glint in his eyes that promised a pleasurable reprisal for your earlier hesitation. The air was thick with the sounds of you both—the soft, wet noises of your mouth and his sharp, urgent breaths. You could feel the heat pooling in your core, the sensation of surrender mixing with the thrill of his dominance.

He pulled back momentarily, letting you catch your breath before pushing back in, more forcefully this time. “I want to feel you choke on me,” he commanded, his voice low and husky, and you complied eagerly, letting him guide you into a rhythm that left you breathless. The thrill of being completely at his mercy ignited a fire within you, and all you could do was submit to the pleasure he was giving.

Swiss’s grip on your hair tightened as his impatience surged, pushing him to take control of the moment completely. He thrust deeper, each movement more forceful and urgent, his hips slamming against your mouth, the rhythm both demanding and possessive. There was an intensity in his touch that contrasted starkly with Copia’s earlier gentleness.

Where Copia had taken his time, savouring each moment, Swiss seemed to revel in the raw, primal connection between you, pushing you to your limits. As he took you harder, you could feel the heat radiating from him, the possessiveness in every thrust igniting a wildfire of desire within you. His movements were calculated yet wild, as if he was trying to claim you, body and soul.

While Swiss was all hard edges and fierce urgency, Copia’s lingering presence in the room wrapped around you like a warm blanket, a reminder of the tender moments you shared. He watched with a predatory glint in his eye, appreciating the way you surrendered to Swiss’s control. The contrast heightened the experience, turning your body into a vessel for both men’s desires, each taking you in their own distinct way.

As Swiss thrust into you, the sensation of fullness mixed with a hint of danger made your heart race. You could feel Copia’s gaze on you, a mix of approval and raw lust that only fueled your arousal further. The dynamic between them swirled in your mind—one was the soft hand guiding you into ecstasy, while the other was the raging storm that left you breathless, wanting more. The combination of their contrasting styles left you spinning, the thrill of it all overwhelming as you gave in completely to their desires.

As their bodies moved in perfect harmony, you felt an overwhelming surge of pleasure course through you, a tidal wave crashing over you, pulling you under in its depths. Each thrust became a rhythmic pulse, a sweet torment that pushed you closer to the precipice of ecstasy. The air was thick with tension, each breath a mix of anticipation and desire, heightening your senses to an almost unbearable degree.

With every deep, deliberate movement, your surroundings blurred into oblivion until all that existed was the intoxicating heat of their desires entwined with yours. You could feel the intensity of Copia’s firm grip on your hips, guiding you deeper onto Swiss’s hardness. It was a dizzying sensation, each thrust sending shivers down your spine and igniting every nerve ending.

As you neared the edge, your body ached with urgency, instinctively arching towards them, seeking more. Swiss’s gaze locked onto yours, filled with a primal hunger that ignited a fire deep within you. You felt his hands guiding you, steady yet possessive, as he took control, thrusting with an unrelenting rhythm that made you gasp, each thrust blending pleasure with the delicious edge of pain.

With every passing moment, it became clear that this was more than just physical—there was an unspoken bond forming in the heat of the moment, a shared understanding of desire and surrender. The world outside faded, leaving you suspended in a blissful haze as their bodies moved together in perfect synchronization.

As the tension built to a crescendo, you could feel your own release building, swelling within you like a storm ready to break. You surrendered completely, the sensations overwhelming, as you felt both of them push you over the edge. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, engulfing you in an intoxicating warmth as you surrendered to the moment.

In that climactic moment, Swiss let out a deep groan, his body tensing as he found his release, filling you with warmth that mingled with your own. His cum spilled onto your tongue, the salty taste coating your mouth as his grip tightened, forcing you as far down onto his shaft as you would go. Breathing wasn’t much of an option here, but it certainly heightened your own orgasm.

At the same time, you felt Copia’s movements quicken, his breath hitching as he reached his peak. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “Such a good girl.” His cum filled your cunt, spilling out onto the floor with dull drips as he continued to thrust in and out, speed slowing down until he’d stopped altogether. He was breathless and panting, but still maintained the intensity of his grip on your hips even when he’d finished completely.

The heady mixture of their releases enveloped you, leaving you breathless and dazed, the raw intensity of the experience still coursing through your veins. As you lay there between them, the world outside faded into obscurity, replaced by the lingering warmth and satisfaction radiating from their bodies.

You glanced at their faces, and what you saw reflected back was not just satisfaction but a deeper understanding—a connection forged in this moment of shared vulnerability and ecstasy. It left you questioning what lay ahead, the dynamics of your relationships suddenly more intricate and thrilling than before. Would this fleeting experience evolve into something deeper, or had you opened the door to a world of possibilities you never dared to explore?

In the aftermath, silence enveloped the room, thick with unspoken words, a fragile tension hanging in the air. The lingering scent of sweat and desire hung heavy, and in that moment, you couldn’t help but wonder what new paths awaited you all, ready to be explored in the aftermath of this electrifying encounter. You couldn’t keep yourself upright anymore, too weak and powerless, you flopped down onto the floor and tried to gather and compose yourself.

As the waves of pleasure receded, both Swiss and Copia instinctively shifted from raw desire to a deeper, more tender concern. Their expressions softened, mirroring the shift in atmosphere from the frenzy of passion to the intimate aftermath of connection.

Copia knelt beside you, his fingers gently brushing the hair away from your damp forehead. “Hey, tesoro,” he murmured, his voice now a soothing balm. “You did so well, really. I’m sorry if we were too rough. We didn’t mean to push you beyond your limits.”

Swiss leaned closer, his presence warm and reassuring as he reached out to touch your arm. “You were incredible,” he said, his tone laced with sincerity. “I hope you know that. Let us take care of you now; you deserve that.”

With utmost care, they helped you to your feet, their hands steady and supportive. Copia fetched a warm, damp cloth, the softness of the fabric a stark contrast to the intensity that had just passed. Swiss, with his gentle demeanor, offered you a glass of cool water, watching you with a mixture of admiration and concern.

As they began to clean you up, their touches were meticulous, their movements tender and reassuring. Copia’s hands glided over your skin as he wiped away the remnants of the evening, each stroke accompanied by a soft murmur of encouragement. “You’re so strong,” he said softly, his gaze steady and filled with warmth. “I hope you truly know that.” By this point, his trousers were back on his body, and he was decent enough should someone walk in - despite you still being as naked as the day you were born.

Swiss knelt beside you, his eyes brimming with tenderness. “You deserve to be treated like this,” he added, his voice low and comforting. “We never want to make you feel anything less than cherished. You are everything to us.”

Once you were cleaned up and your habit had been put back on (or rather, what was left of it), they each took a side, wrapping their arms around you in a cocoon of warmth. Copia pulled you close, holding you against his chest, where you could hear the steady thrum of his heartbeat, a reassuring reminder of the safety you found in his embrace. Swiss tucked you under his arm, his touch a gentle anchor as he rested his chin atop your head.

The three of you lingered in that moment, a quiet intimacy enveloping you like a soft blanket. You felt cherished, loved, and safe, surrounded by their protective presence. The world outside faded, leaving only the comfort of their warmth and the soothing rhythm of their breaths.

“I’m sorry for surprising you like this and not talking to you about it first,” Copia said, gently rocking you from side to side. “I thought you’d appreciate being kept in the dark about it.”

You looked up at Copia, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions and sensations. “I—I appreciate the thought, Papa,” you reply softly, your voice a mix of vulnerability and understanding. “But I wish you had talked to me first. It was a lot to take in all at once.” You bit your lip, searching his eyes. “I want to be a part of this, but I need to feel like I have a say in it, too.”

“Of course, tesoro. It won’t happen again without your express permission.”

“Maybe,” Swiss began, “next time we can all plan it together but surprise you with the timing?”

You nodded, considering Swiss’s suggestion. “I like that idea,” you responded, a small smile forming. “Being surprised can be exciting, but I want to feel safe and involved in the planning. I think it would make the experience even better.” You glanced between them, feeling a warmth spread through you. “Just knowing that you both care about how I feel means a lot.” Your heart swelled with gratitude, appreciating their willingness to adapt and include you in the process.

Swiss kissed you on the forehead.

“Though saying all that,” you continued, “I thoroughly enjoyed it… even before I knew this was a scene - there was something about feeling scared again that made me even wetter than usual.”

Copia, “I could tell.” He chuckled and rubbed his hand up and down your back.

“Maybe next time, you both could be rougher? Scarier?”

Swiss smiled, “Oh, I definitely have an idea about that.”

Translations:

Vieni qui = Come here.

Brava ragazza = good girl.

Sathanas, sei perfetto = Satan, you’re perfect.

Proprio così = Just like that.

Sei così cazzo stretta = You’re so fucking tight.

Dimmi = Tell me.

Puttana = Whore.

Kinktober: Prev./Next

Hellish Delights: Prev./Next

[rvp32]

Thanks for accepting the IVE headcanon request! Would be amazing if you do one for TWICE! Big fan of your fluffy fics <3

I hope you guys are loving these headcanons just as much as I am.

Nayeon

Yeah, she would be livid if she ever saw another woman trying to flirt or even touch you. She will drag you away from the public and tell you exactly why she's mad and kiss you multiple times going as far as biting your lip. The pain from your lip remains a reminder to you and also is a sign to other women that you belong to Nayeon

Jeongyeon

Probably the most mature one and wouldn't be super possessive, she really loves and trusts you but if it does go overboard just expect a simple message. She is very open with communication and wouldn't keep things to herself if it upset her.

Momo

Weirdly enough she would hate it. She loved you more than anything in the world and is loyal to you to the bone. So she expects the same from you which you give. But there are times when women don't take the hint of you being uncomfortable with their touches and this pisses Momo off because you are clearly uncomfortable. She would interrupt your conversation and introduce herself holding her hand out, "Hi, I am Momo, his girlfriend. If you keep making my man uncomfortable you better know how to fight because I'm going to beat your ass till you realize how stupid you are ."

Sana

There is quite literally no chance of women even coming to you and being touchy with you because Sana is always by your side hugging your hand like a Koala bear. But if a dense woman tries to come toward you with a flirty smile, expect a tonne of kinship. Kisses, handholding, fixing your shirt, or fixing your hair. She will very clearly make it known that you are taken.

Jihyo

Any woman would be stupid to try to go toward Jihyo's man. There is quite literally no reason for you to choose any other girl especially when you have a Goddess like Jihyo always right next to you. If someone dares to flirt with you when Jihyo leaves for a few minutes, then expect to get a passionate kiss but what you don't know is that she has her middle finger showing to the girl. After pulling away from the kiss all Jihyo says is "Leave," in her commanding tone and with eyes that could kill.

Mina

She's probably the most possessive one in the entire Twice. You don't usually run into a lot of women given your profession but it does tend to happen at professional parties which Mina always attends with you. Your suit for the Night will include a ring with M carved on it, cufflinks with Mina's name, a tie clip with her name, and finally a custom-made Audemars Piguet Royal Oak with Mina's name carved into the bezel. Everything on you clearly screams that you belong to Mina. But if some stupid woman thought she still had a chance and tried to flirt with you, Mina wouldn't let that slide. She would have her secretary look into that person and make them pay.

Dahyun

She would be too shy to outright come out and express her possessiveness or jealousy. Dahyun really loves her privacy so she doesn't like to attend high-profile events because of all the press coverage it gets. Sometimes she stumbles onto pictures of you with other women who are slyly touching you. She wouldn't say anything but there would be signs, like the increased touching, biting and her basically throwing herself onto you. After you are done all she whispers is"You are mine"

Chaeyoung

Very vocal about it, the minute a woman tries to act flirty with you Chaeyeong will let her know clearly and that if she does it again there will be consequences ones that are going to be extremely hard to deal with. "Touch My boyfriend another time and you can say goodbye to life." Unknowingly to you, the reason all your exes broke up with you or ghosted you was because of Chaeyoung. She was scaring them away.

Tzuyu

Will elegantly make the woman realize how stupid she is to try and flirt with her boyfriend especially when she is in the same room. by saying things like "I can see you have a taste for the finer things; unfortunately, he’s already taken by the finest" or "Oh, I admire your optimism! Though I’m afraid he's a bit out of your league."

"Thank you! I didn't know how to tell her to leave, it was getting uncomfortable,"

"That's what I am here for baby, those sly bitches won't bother you as long as I am here

[nemo-in-wonderland]

🍃 ASRA SILVERBOUGH | CIRCLE OF DREAMS DRUID | HALF-DROW ELF🍂

Name: Asra Silverbough

Nickname: Rara, Spiderling, little Owlbear (by her father)

Title: The Sentinel of the Sylvan Glade

Alias: None

Age: 199 Years Old (She was born in 1294 DR-Year of the Deep Moon )

Birthplace: High Forest, in Dark Maiden's Leap, the shrine consacrated to Eilistraee. Her mother prayed for the Goddess’ protection while birthing the Asra, and it was granted. Hometown: Emerald Grove, Sword Coast, Western Heartlands

Current Residence: After spending most of her life in the Emerald Grove with her father, she returned to the High Forest, her father's family's home, and joined the Druids of Tall Trees

Alignment: Neutral Good

Race: Elf (Drow/Wood Elf)

Class: Ranger/Druid - Circle of Dreams

Profession/job: During her formative years spent at the Emerald Grove, she was an Druid Initiate under her father's guidance, working with him in trying to preserve the Balance of Nature. However, she founds that curing ailments and working with medical herbs was not her vocation, and she would rather spend her days up in the trees, flying branch to branch while scouting the areas around the Grove. Eventually, she picked up the role of Sentinel for the Grove, and lead a small squad of Rangers to protect the Grove and its inhabitants. Visual particular traits: Due to having inherited her mother's and father's height, Asra is considered extremely tall for an elf, especially one of Drow descent. Her own physical constitution also favours her father's, making Asra stands out among her peers. Scent: White Moss and Oak Resin. Occasionally, especially when wearing her shawl, she is surrounded by an intense scent of Oud that can lingers for hours. She has no idea how that is possible, but she suspects the shawl the scent is magically weaved within the fabric of the shawl, considering its arcane properties.

Colours/symbols associated with: The Colours of the Forest during Autumn; The Owl that flies silently in the night; the Stag that protect the Forest and all that lives within it. Languages: Common, Elven, Wild Elvish, Druidic, Undercommon Accent?: Asra’s Elvish has a distinct “High Forest” tune to it (irl it would be similar to Scottish), and it would carry over even when she speaks the Common Language. Tropes they embody: “Action Girl”, “Amazonian Beauty”, “Badass Adorable”, “Be Careful What You Wish For”, “Big Sister Instinct”, “Determinator”, “Daddy’s Girl”, “Death Glare”, “Determinator”, “Fish out of Water”, “Hot-Blooded”,“Former Teen Rebel”, “Friends To All Living Things”, “Hidden Depths”,“Long-Range Fighter", “Made Of Iron”, “My God What Have I Done?”,”Parental Abandonment”, “Savvy Guy, Energetic Girl”, “Statuesque Stunner” “Strong Family Resemblance”, “Stronger Than They Look”,” It Runs In The Family”, “Tranquil Fury”, “Odd Friendship”, “Weakness Turns Her On”,

Personality: Determinate, Curious, Kind, Boisterous, Funny, Overprotective, Resilient, Resourceful, Intuitive, Brave, Loyal, Honest, Empathetic, Determined, Confident, Strong-Willed, Protective, Compassionate, Caring, Independent, Fearless, Vengenful, Short-Tempered, Impulsive, Rebellious, Hot-Headed, Proud, Stubborn, Overconfident.

Detailed Backstory: Asra was the biological daughter of Halsin Silverbough. The story surrounding her birth was complicated, and much like the relationship between her parents, it was shrouded in a silence that Halsin was rarely -if at all - willing to break. This constant secrecy amplified the emptiness left by her mother, and it would become, later in life, a void for Asra to fill with the knowledge as to why she was left behind. However, despite this, she had a childhood of relative happiness and carefree ease, surrounded as she was by the love and affection that the rest of the Silverbough Clan was willing to provide to the their youngest. Her early years were spent listening to the Elders’ stories and her father’s own teaching on Druidic knowledge, which continued well into her teen years. But while she enjoyed listening, Asra was an active elf with an even more active mind, and she enjoyed experiencing life way more than just learning from books or midnight stories.

So, whenever she could, she would sneak away from Grandma Silverbough to stay with her father and take care of the ailing animals under his care or, when that was not possible, she would climb high up the trees of the High Forest and spend time observing the owls that slept up in the higher branches. For reason she could never explain, she enjoyed being as close to the sky as possible, something that would later influence into choosing the Owl as animal to shape-shift into. Oftentimes, she would go so far up in the branches that her father Halsin could not retrieve her and it would fall on Quirora Evenfall, the Head Sentinel of the Rangers of High Forest to retrieve her and bring her back safe and sound in her father’s arms.

Quirora was fond of Asra and her persistency, and she actually liked the child’s spunky personality and her stubbornness in wanting to learn as much as she could; so, when, as a teen, she would start following her and rangers during their round of surveillance around the High Forest borders, she would allow Asra to follow by, on the condition that she was to be as silent as a flying owl - a task that would prove a challenge for Asra, considering her curious personality and her never-ending need to question everything, but a challenge she would tackle with patience and effort.

The rangers took some convincing in having an untrained half-drow following them around, but would eventually change their mind and actually find entertainment in dusting off ancient elven knowledge to pass down to the young girl, such as scouting, how to visualize potential dangers, following trails, how to trap a fey being and stop them from teleporting etc. Quirora and her squad were also the reason why Asra became set on learning how to use bow and arrows and would later become her weapons of choice.

Thriving under the care and devotion that her father, Quirora and the Rangers put into her upbringing, Asra would prove to be a brilliant young elf, with keen eyes that noticed everything and a boisterous and commanding personality- she would often take the lead while playing with other elves, and if an injustice were to occur, she was not afraid to brawl even with older kids to defend her friends.

But even as a teenager first and then as a young adult, Asra was restless, as in body so in spirit and with constant thoughts of her missing mother always in the back of her mind, something she often vented about with Quirora, when her father would not open up to her. Quirora would actually take Asra’s troubles to heart, because she could see how much this was weighting on her young soul, and being a follower of Sehanine Moonbow, the Elven Goddess of Dream, she spoke with Halsin about this and the possibility of at least ease Asra’s inquietude through dreamscaping.

Halsin was aware of the turmoil in his daughter’s heart, just as he was aware of how dangerous would it be for them both if Asra was ever to get close to the truth, and that weighted on his shoulders: on one side, he wanted for Asra to find closure; on the other, he didn’t want her to see put in harm’s way.

Eventually, he would agree with Quirora to initiate her to the ways of Sehanine.

So, it was finally under Quirora’s guidance that Asra discovered the ability of dreaming granted by Elven Goddess to her followers and how, through dreaming, there was the possibility of unveiling and discovering much that was hidden to the conscious eyes.

Asra put all her efforts into learning how to sleep and dreamscape, following the path of the Circle of the Dreams as a Druid, and started travelling through worlds guided by the pulsing necklace around her neck - one of the two mementos left behind by her mother- finally excited at the prospect of finding some answers to all the questions that were crowding her mind day and night.

What she didn’t realize when she decided to follow the path of the Circle of Dreams and therefore accepting, she made herself vulnerable to the Feywild influence and its inhabitants, for better or worse, and that inexperience in looking and manipulating others’ dreams had a great cost. Infact, while she actually managed to met her dearest friends through her dreams - Hiraeth of the Seelie Court - she also inadvertently caught the attention of another powerful being while roaming through his dreams, a being that would become both a fear and another obsession of hers: The Stag King

Most Treasured Possession: Asra is not one to keep material belonging in high regards; however, she has three items that are immensely dear to her: the magical shawl her father had used for her ever since she was a baby, a shawl that seemed to protect her against the sun and provide her with warmth whenever she needs, and that never seemed to tear and wear, despite being over 200 years old; a shards of never melting ice that she keeps tied around her neck, and that seems to emit a strange feeble pulsing sound; and lastly, a dagger in cold iron that Hiraeth gave her to protect herself against the Stag King, if the need were ever to rise.

Sexual and/or romantic situation: Much like her father, Asra is polyamorous, following her heart as nature’s intended. However, after the events of Elturel and the arrival of the tieflings refugees at the Emerald Grove, Boisterous Asra found a kindred soul in Rolan, whom she cares about dearly, despite the constant bickering and his ego being bigger than anything she had ever experienced. However, ever since she started exploring the Dreamscape, in hope to find her mother there, she had been haunted by the Stag King, who seemed to have a keen interest in her. If that interest is reciprocated by Asra, even she is not entirely sure.

Favourite place in Faerûn: Her most favourite place is most certainly the High Forest, where she spent her entire childhood, surrounded by her father’s family. Ever since only her and Halsin were all that remained of their family, she makes a point to try, at least once a year, to travel to Grandfather Tree and give them her respects. She missed them a lot, but she bears it for her father’s sake. Other than that, she enjoys being in the woodlands, surrounded by trees, but she never disdain spending time with Hiraeth in the Dreamscape, the only place where they can actually meet and catch up with what they have been doing. What makes them happiest: Sitting by the campfire at night and listening to her father’s old stories about High Forest and the time their family lived there. She particularly loves to listen to her father’s childhood stories, and about all the time he got himself in trouble for not listening to their elders (something she would jokingly use against him when he admonishes her for not listening to his advices). The few times that her father would open up about her mother and give her some crumbs of information about her were also moments of rare happiness she held dear within her heart. What makes them angriest: Discrimination of any kind. Seeing how she would be a victim of it due to her Drow heritage, she was absolutely furious in the way the Emerald Grove Druids were acting with the Tieflings Refugees from Elturiel, to the point that it came to a physical fight between herself and Kagha. She had to restrain herself when she suggested to kill Arabella for stealing the Idol of Silvanus, but she never came closer to breaking someone’s face like she did in that moment. When her father Halsin banished her from the Grove, she felt a triumphant spite she hadn’t felt in years. What makes them laugh: Who, rather than what. But the one that makes her laugh the most is Azriel and her flamboyant way of always narrating her adventures and her sentimental woes. Asra cannot help but laughing at all the hilarious - and embarassing - situations her parents and siblings put her through.

Biggest secret: Despite her father strongly advising not to look for her mother, due to how dangerous that would be for both of them, Asra has been secretly trying to look for her ever since she decided to partake in the teachings of the Circles of Dreams. One night, while scouring the Dreamscape during a particularly deep meditation, she bumped into something she never bumped before, and felt something against her soul, like the soft brushing of a pristine heron’s feather, but before she could investigate it any further, she got spooked by an apparition of hellfire and the strong smell of brimstones. It made her wake up scared out of her wits, to the point that Halsin as well had to intervene to calm her down and help her anchor her thoughts. What she saw would keep her away from the Dreamscape for sometimes, and this caused for Stag King to become irritated and prompted him to seek her out in the Material Plane - adding to Asra's troubles. However, stubborn as she was and despite the scare, the fact that she found finally *something* prompted Asra to strengthened her resolve to find her mother. Obsession: Asra is not entirely different from either her parents, and when she sets her mind on something, she will see it through, no matter what. Two thoughts are ever present in her mind, never leaving her alone: finding out why the Stag King seems so keen on wanting her attention, and finding her mother. Asra loves her father Halsin dearly, but she knows that his reluctancy in talking about her mother and the strange letter that she left when she abandoned them hide way more than what it’s written in between those words.

*rubs hands together*

SO.

I AM FINALLY DONE WITH ASRA'S PROFILE, AND OMG I SUPER INTRIGUED BY IT ALL TBH. I have kinda reconnected something from what I wrote a few months back, because I actually managed to make it work as I wanted, timeline-wise (and Jacob's existence was kinda the reason I was able to retcon and have Asra's story evolve this way).👀👀👀

I am starting to interwoven all my OCs' stories, in one way or the other, and dearest Asra here is fascinating me with how connected she is to the others👀👀👀.

Well, I hope you will like this and the infographics I did for her!!

Now I am working on Hiraeth's one, and hopefully they will be ready soon!

--Nemo

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template by @arcandoria; abridged profile template by @lairofsentinel)

[lindsay00000008]

CW: Med whump, stalking, drugs/poison, escaped whumpee, blood

Thinking about this post again, whump happens in a “safe” environment where it’s witnessed by people who want to help, and it’s very very nice that they’re just acquaintances because it opens a dynamic that’s so new and scary but so good. There’s also a lot to be said for a whumpee who is just focused on doing a good job, not messing up, not causing a scene, and other recognizing that they need support. Great post OP.

Here’s some more public whump prompts:

Whumpee having a medical emergency during a meeting. (They seize and choke and their least friendly (read: tsundere) coworker jumps into action, clearing space and ordering people to call 911, bring an AED, wait in the lobby to direct EMS, get the building coordinator)

Whumpee being stalked menacingly on their way to an early morning class. (They rush in flushed and close to tears and they slam the door to the small room with too many oak built-ins. The professor stops his conversation with one of the few students and looks concerned, and Whumpee doesn’t know how to explain until a thud sounds on the door behind them and it’s almost pushed open, only stopped by Whumpee’s rigid body. An angry voice shouts Whumpee’s name. The students shriek and Whumpee pleads for someone to help block the door. No one hesitates to rush forward and lend their strength. “Do they have a gun?” “Call the police!” “Whumpee get behind me”)

Whumpee has been trying and failing to get a new job. (Their industry is already competitive, and they seem to be having the strangest bad luck every time they go in for an interview. They aren’t usually a nervous person. They can’t be, to work in such a demanding profession. But whenever they go to meet a prospective employer, their palms sweat and their voice turns stuttering. They feel faint and flushed all over. This time, it’s too much, and halfway through, they pass out. They wake up in a hospital to a report that strange toxins have been found flooding their system. They’ve been poisoned. And their interviewer is sitting beside them with a hard, calculating look of concern, angry on Whumpee’s behalf.)

Whumpee escapes from whumper, and stumbles their way through the city, looking like a dirty vagabond. (Street rat, people think as they pass. Whumpee’s old workplace looms ahead of them, the route they’ve taken worn into ruts in their tired subconscious mind. Can they ask for help there? Their coworkers are shocked when they get a call that a homeless person needs medical attention in the lobby — then panicked when they realize this is a person they used to work with. Someone who disappeared several months ago. The cops come and assume they have mental health issues, drug addiction. They must be a criminal, the way they ran up to the receptionist’s desk with rolling eyes and grabbing fingers. A makeshift weapon is found in their pocket, splatters of blood on it and on their hands. Whumpee wakes up dizzy and disoriented, handcuffed even as paramedics tends to their wounds. The coworkers shout at the cops for their rough treatment, some trying to offer clothes and food, others crying in relief and fear for Whumpee. “They wouldn’t have gone off on their own!” “Something terrible must have happened to them…” “Don’t grab them like that!” “Why don’t you go and find out who did this, instead of harassing Whumpee? Can’t you see they’re in pain?”)