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jd-loves-fiction · 18 days ago

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For your event, may I request Idia and first time together (as in making love)

idk how to word that better. sounded more romantic in my head. Lowkey love how you write Idia BSKEBEJ

💐oh honey thank you🥺you worded that fine hun, making it romantic is my job :3 also this smut is gonna have a heckin lot of plot so sit tight. Also HEAVILY inspired by the Hades game cuz i just love that version of the underworld❤ also couldn't resist adding some angst teehee

❧ Like mortals do

❧ Word count: 4k

❧ Contains: explicit sexual descriptions, handjob, unprotected sex (you're dead but... yknow), penetrative sex, afab!reader, inexperienced!Idia, the floweriest of languages

❧ Idia hates himself for thinking so, but he despises the way your heart remains guarded. No matter what. No matter how much you want to let him in.

He can tell, with the way you get so close to him when delivering documents, how your touch lingers when you hand them over.

And most of all, the way your eyes linger on his form when he is forced out of his office for one reason or another, before you look down bashfully. He can almost see red over your cheeks, were you capable of such a human feat after passing.

But still, you close yourself off to him, allowing him only an arm's length of proximity and nothing more.

He feels so selfish for thinking it, but oh, how he wishes he could take comfort from having you by his side during his necessary ventures outside of his chambers. Or better yet, to have you keep him company in his office. Perhaps then he'd actually feel motivated to get work done.

After some time and research, he surmises that your attachment to the Overworld is to blame.

And by that, he means he heard you mumbling about it and sighing wistfully while looking up at the cavernous sky of the Underworld.

Idia decides that something must be done. Not only for his sake, no, mostly for yours, he reasons. Longing for a home no longer accessible will do you no good.

"H-Hey," he greets you, stepping into the now lush garden, "I hope I'm not interrupting."

He seems to say this a lot nowadays, after having realized how much this place matters to you – your own sanctuary. Much like his office; Idia doesn't like when people enter his office without his permission.

"Not at all. What do you need?"

"I need you to come with me. There's something I want to show you."

You stand before the door to the Temple of Styx, gulping down your nerves (or trying to) as Idia waits for your signal to open the massive gates.

“I must warn you, it’s only a temporary visit. One way or another, once your time is up, you will return to the Underworld.” The strangely serious tone makes you nod.

"Do you usually do this? For other people, I mean." Perhaps mindless small talk will help calm your nerves. Your ghostly heart is beating so hard you can barely hear Idia over the sound.

"Of course not. Plus I don't believe the other Shades would want this." His answer raises many questions about how the Underworld works exactly, but you keep back from them. Not now, perhaps later.

"Ready?" You don't know the answer to his question, but you nod anyway. If not now, never.

Wind strong enough to knock you on your ass, were you still alive, blows past you as the gates open with a wave of Idia’s hand. Golden sunlight shines upon your skin, though you can no longer feel its heat.

Stepping forward, away from the massive doors, your feet land on soft snow.

The view from above is breathtaking, like something out of a painting... Without color. This simply because of what you're missing.

You cannot feel the heat of the sun or the cold of the snow and chilly wind nor the softness of the snow beneath your feet and so it all feels... Distant. Hollow. Fake, even.

You sit by a small stream, a thin layer of ice over it. Placing your feet over it doesn't even move it. Seems you really have no effect on this plane of existence.

You feel as if you should cry, but no tears come forth, though you know they can, given how much you screamed and cried in agony on your first night of your new 'life'.

Idia approaches you, you can hear the crunching of the snow beneath his feet, feel his presence behind you. But he doesn't say a word, perhaps not knowing what you need to hear. Nor what you want to hear.

But there are none such words. For now, all you need is silence, the sound of rustling leaves and birds taking flight.

��Your time is almost over. I’m sorry, but we must return now of our own will. Otherwise the Underworld will take us forcibly, and that won’t be pleasant.” Idia says gently, knowing he’s already pushing it and warning you too late.

"I just never thought–" Idia leans towards you curiously, waiting for you to continue speaking, "Nevermind."

A sudden tightening appears within your chest, perhaps it's emotion welling up from the knowledge that your original home is no more and all that's left is the desolate land of Death.

But it's not all so bad. Despite how much you resisted in the beginning, now, in this quiet moment, you realize that Idia is not nearly as terrible as you'd initially thought.

He gave you a home, a purpose, despite how much you insulted him to his face, not that you knew it was him then. And after so much pestering, he showed you something that someone dead would never have the chance to see, the Overworld.

You get up from your seat suddenly, hoping to thank him for all he’s done, to face the feelings that have been brewing in your chest for a while now. But dizziness hits you like the cold mountain wind and your legs nearly give out, “W-What’s happening?”

"I warned you. Time's up. But don't worry, it'll be over quickly." Idia speaks softly, hands on your shoulders as you start feeling even more faint.

Your breathing speeds up in a panic, even though you no longer need it, legs shaking under your own weight. Falling backwards, you land upon his chest as your eyelids fall slowly. And then, you're gone.

Waking up your eyelids feel far too heavy to lift, so they remain shut as you feel something lap at you, wet and cold. You realize it’s the blood pool back at the House of Shroud just as Idia takes your body into his arms.

He’s cold but you snuggle closer to his body, seeking not warmth but comfort.

Even as soft, unfamiliar, sheets press against your back, you cling to him. "...don't leave."

Idia blinks down at you, between your droopy eyes and the hands that cling to his clothing.

"I-I shouldn't." You groan at his response, hands crawling upwards and behind his neck to pull him closer. “You should. Because I said so.”

He chuckles before sighing, relaxing beneath your hands and laying beside you.

Idia smells of smoke and... snow. An odd combination to be sure but not wholly unpleasant.

“I wanted… ugh…” You begin, attempting to thank him at least, but your mouth feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton and your head feels both floaty and heavy. It’s as if your body demands sleep despite not needing it.

“Shh… we’ll talk later.” Idia whispers, seemingly cool and collected… if not for the shaking of the pale hand running through your hair. But the effect is the same, in what feels like a second, you’re out like a light, enjoying the luxury that is sleep in the Underworld.

“I see. Well, tell them to hurry it up, I’ve already given them plenty of time to finish it. I get that we have all eternity to get things done but still, I get rather impatient.” Idia’s voice sounds from somewhere distant as you come to, blinking blearily and wondering if you’re still dreaming with how stern he sounds.

No light stings your eyes as they open, finally taking in the dark, lavish room around you. Idia’s room… You’re in Idia’s room still… in his bed, no less.

You sit up so fast you feel dizzy out of human habit. It’s one thing to consider forgiving him, another still to think about confessing about the feelings you’ve kept so well hidden… but to sleep in his bed? You would never!

But… it’s so soft… and cool… and it smells just like him… Focus!

From the balcony beyond the dark curtains comes a grumble, followed by furious clicking and clacking. The long cloth parts just enough for a glimpse of his blue fire mane and for a moment you wonder; could you run your fingers through it like hair? Would it burn you?

Before you know it, your feet take you towards his half-hunched figure, fingers reaching out to sate your curiosities. Just as you get close Idia seems to send your presence behind himself, turning around to greet you, entirely unaware of the mental downpour going inside your head, “Oh! You’re up.”

His expression tells you he’s pleased with this, unlike his tone. He always did seem to have better control over his voice rather than his features.

“Is all that… normal?” Your voice sounds weaker than expected.

“It’s not common for mortals to visit the Overworld after passing but, from the few examples I’ve seen, yes. Very much so.” His voice sounds… oddly stable? Almost confident?

Strange. Very strange.

Sure, in the tales told of his attitude by the other shades he was always cold and stern, but the Idia you now know is anything but.

“T-There’s something I must tell you.” You’re now the one stuttering nervously, but admitting that you misjudged someone so badly would sting anyone’s ego.

Idia tilts his head curiously like a puppy and the thought makes you want to yell in confusion and frustration.

“I… forgive… you.” Getting the words out feels like walking through quicksand but it feels necessary. Despite him being the reason why you ended up here in the first place, Idia’s been nothing but downright indulgent with you in a way that he really didn't have to be and probably shouldn't be.

“I see now all that you’ve done to ease my sorrows. And I understand that I should not have expected to be given more time for being pious. Death comes for us all and I’m no different.” You finally raise you head, just catching the change in his expression, from bashful to somewhat anxious.

“I must be honest with you as well. Your death… was not entirely natural.” Idia looks off into the dark distance, brows furrowed thoughtfully, flame-hair moving rapidly, “I’m not s-sure if this is… something you want to hear about.”

“Yes!” You respond before he’s even done speaking, “I need to know the truth of it. Please,“ The desperation in your voice convinces him, clearing his throat to speak clearly, eyes conveniently averted.

“You were meant to have a much more… tragic death. One I felt was not befitting of your worth.”

“My worth?”

Idia’s wide shoulders drop, hair losing much of its brightness as a gloomy cloud forms over him, “Not many mortals worship my mother. Perhaps her deeds, but never her name… I felt you were worthy of some consideration because you are one of the few who did.”

Processing the information, you remain silent as he continues, “Our relationship’s never been very good but, us immortals, we can't just cut ties. A part of me will never forgive them both for what they did, or what they didn't. But another part of me will always be their son, so I felt I should… I don't know. This must make no sense to you… forget it.” His confidence runs out quickly as his eyes meet yours, cheeks flushing blue upon the pale canvas of his face, before he hides it behind his large hands.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what…”

“Hide your face. I never imagined the gods… bashful.” The mere thought makes you chuckle.

The amusement is cut short upon seeing Idia's face fall, “I'm not like them.”

“Well, sure you're not.” His frown turns into a pout before you continue, “From what I know, you're much more pleasant to be around.”

“I- I appreciate that… but that's not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” You ask innocently, watching as he curls in on himself, dark blue upon his cheeks.

“I'm just not– I don't– I'm not that handsome, beautiful, whatever you call it. People think I look strange.” He looks away from you, down at the dour grounds of his estate. You think to yourself that such a thing must not be true, not with what you see before you…

Your face flushes at the thought. Could it be that… your forgiveness of his actions… has turned to infatuation? Could it perhaps be that… it was always there beneath the scorn?

But you concede – he is indeed nothing like how you picture the gods to be. No skin of bronze stretched over absurd muscles like in the statues, no absurd posing and posturing at every turn…

“Since now is a time for honesty… No, you’re nothing like them.” The curiosity shining in his irises turns to resigned acceptance at your words, already imagining the worst of what you’ll say next.

“You’re not extroverted, rowdy or entertaining. You don't walk around like everyone owes you something just because they get to look upon your splendorous visage.” Making a silly pose gets a low chuckle out of him.

“But you know what? I’m glad. Who can stand people– gods? Like that anyway? Not me… if that means anything.” Your face gets so warm so quickly while trying to make your feelings less obvious that you’re worried you might be cursed. That can't be normal.

“You’re…” Words fail you, so much you can and wish to say. How you’d much rather his bashfulness over their boldness, his attentiveness over their supposedly good natured obliviousness, the hesitant stutter of his purely honest words over their confident, practiced speeches. “No words would suffice to tell you just how starkly different you are from them.”

The candidness of your tone gives him pause, it’s as if all that you wish to say but are unable to somehow makes itself known to him anyway. Perhaps he can read minds? You wouldn't put it past him.

His gaze changes, softening to a gentle yellow like the first rays of sunlight peeking out over the horizon – you’re caught in it, unable and unwilling to resist the urge to draw closer and closer to his blue lips.

Idia hesitates at the last second, brows furrowed in frustration, no doubt overthinking the whole ordeal, but your emotions are just about ready to boil over so you heed their order and connect your lips decidedly, hesitation be damned. He’s tense for only a second, before eagerly grabbing at your shoulder as well as the balustrade; his attempt to remain chaste with his touches is adorable, even if all you want to do is devour him, let out all your frustrations along with your fondness for him in one go.

“Idia…” You whisper against his lips, feeling the immense heat of him against your face. The expression he makes is almost painful… delightfully so.

“Please don't do that… I can’t–” He pinches his eyes closed, but makes no move away from you. He’s flushed down to his chest just thinking about how badly he wants you – the thought fills you with a dangerous boldness.

“Why not? Aren’t you the king? You can do as you please… no?” Your hands trail down his arms teasingly, delighting in the way he shivers and twitches.

“I-It’s not so simple. There are rules and r-responsibilities…” It’s to you his consciousness is making up excuses for some reason. You loathe to think it could be the fault of the solitary life he’s lived, full of people who hate him just as you once did… without even knowing him at all.

“There is nothing… There is just you and me here. And I. Want. You.” He gulps loudly.

“If you’ll have me, of course.” The look on his face is hard to describe – it’s like you’ve given him all that he’s ever wanted in life and yet was never allowed to have, and told him that he can have it.

He hastily grabs your hand to pull you into his bedroom again, his grip remaining surprisingly gentle. Once you make it to his bed, he tenses up, unsure of where to look, where to put his hands, “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Momentarily, a flash of annoyance crosses his face as if he wants to disagree, before he realises you’re right, “Not the best place to… fall in love.”

“Sounds like someone didn't try hard enough,” you edge closer to where he sits at the edge of the bed – he refuses to meet your eyes still but seems to be more at ease than before, hands relaxed in his lap and hair slowly returning to its natural blue.

“Hey,” you croon, grasping his chin gently, “I can guide you, if you’d like. I’m no expert but I do know a bit about… worldly pleasures.”

“A bit more than me, I’m sure.” He replies bashfully, eyes glued to your lips as you draw close once more. You give him only a peck before pulling back, then going back in at the downright desperate look in his eye. Who knew a god would be so easy to bend.

Your hands grasp his in his distraction, pulling them to the edge of your robes. Lost in your kiss, which keeps getting hotter, he pulls the cloth away as you wordlessly command. The robes part easily, fluttering away from your body.

Once his eyes open, he finds himself staring at your bare form, flushing a deeper blue in response. A string of saliva hangs from his slack bottom lip, eyes roaming all of you appreciatively – though he seems much too flustered to admit it aloud.

“Now you.” You whisper, hands delicately placed at the edge of his ornate robes, before he gives a twitchy nod, closing his eyes as you lay him bare to your eyes.

Hands held you pull him to sit against the carved wooden headboard, observing his naked figure as you do. He sure looks godly.

Idia’s eyes dart in every direction like corner prey, hands clenched around his silk sheets in what you suspect is more excitement than trepidation. You crawl to where he sits, kisses placed in what milky skin you pass by, delighting in his adorable twitching, “You’re a god, right? All you need to do is let me worship you.”

Not a second wasted, you start with his flushed neck, kisses laid against it like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings and still he flinches as if you’ve struck him with a leather whip. Descending to his pale chest, you do the same along with a gentle nibble close to his nipple, soothed quickly with a pass of your warm tongue.

He calls out your name like a prayer – desperate and vulnerable. If you were yourself a god, you think you’d not be too bad at it, since you’d never dare refuse such a humble request.

Your mouth moves almost on its own, your very soul utterly entranced by him and his delicious reactions to the touch of a mere mortal, kissing and licking his chest and abdomen more firmly now, as if it were possible to nibble your way through to the very soul of him and settle yourself there.

Drawing back to allow him to catch his breath, your gaze crawls over the way his features shift from the pleasure, dark blue over his features like watercolor paint. Your hand cradles the side of his face to grab his attention, before your other hand lowers itself to his cock – hard and darkened already, gleaming a faint silver at the tip. It’s beautiful and otherworldly, same as the rest of him and you ache to tug on it until he’s crumbling in your arms as mortals do.

Asking for silent permission with your gaze, you wrap your cool fingers around him once he nods, receiving an instant reaction when his back tenses up as if electricity just passed through him, a moan trapped in the back of his bashful throat. You’re suddenly filled with a need to get those sounds out of him.

Your hands move gently, up and down, grip steady but delicate. His breath is beyond uneven, hitching and exhaling in a rush at the slightest movement. Only a sliver of his eyes is open, watching you shyly, “You’re so beautiful, Idia.”

The face he makes makes it seems as if you’ve stabbed him, so gorgeously stunned for a moment before his head falls back with a breathy whimper, “Don’t– Gods, I–”

Movements continue, a rhythm established; when your thumb ghosts over his tip his whole body twitches. Who but the Fates could’ve foreseen that the man you so despised would end up putty at your feet.

By the way he reacts, Idia is undoubtedly close and so you slowly, carefully, pull your hand away – meeting his befuddled gaze head on as he finally looks you in your lust-darkened eyes, “Not yet,” you tell him.

His breathing is ragged as you place yourself on his lap, feeling the heat of him from the proximity. Hands around his face, you observe the frankly pitiful expression he sports – head lowered as he gazes up at you from beneath dark lashes, blue bottom lip poking outward slightly, “Please…”

You think for a moment that not spoiling this man might just be impossible.

“I’ve got you, my dear.” you whisper tenderly, kissing him sweetly. There’s something in his glowing gaze, an intensity you’ve never seen – he wants this as much as you, even if his mouth refuses to let him admit it.

Wordlessly, you grasp his cock again, moving it towards your drenched center, foreheads touching as he waits for you to move. You do when he’s not expecting it, tearing a sudden moan from deep within his chest as you insert the very tip of him into you.

His face immediately moved to the crook of your neck, hands gripping onto your side with a vice, entire body trembling at the warmth of you. Inch by delicious bitter inch, you sit yourself fully atop his milky lap, listening closely to his ruined breathing and quickened heartbeat. There are moans hiding behind his teeth and they escape him slowly and quietly when he cannot hold them within.

Your name falls from his lovely lips ceaselessly now, on every exhale as you start moving up and down on him, tenderly but firmly. He feels extraordinary inside you, stretching at every sensitive spot perfectly with unknowing precision. Despite how loud he is, you yourself cannot deny the effect he has on your body without even meaning to – you’re losing your mind as you ride him faster and faster without realizing it.

His mouth seals itself upon your neck suddenly, sharp teeth digging into your flesh in a way that would’ve hurt were you still alive, burying his sounds in your skin as you both grow closer and closer, “Almost there, I’ve got y-you, Idia. I’ve g-got you…”

The weakness in your reassurance makes it less convincing, not that Idia notices with how lost in the moment he is, high so close he can taste it on the back of his tongue along with the lingering taste of your skin.

The very air around you seems to vibrate with undeniable power as Idia finally comes, heaving against your shoulder, noises finally unrestrained.

Your own end catches you off guard, so lost are you in his pleasure, punching the air from your lungs as you slam down on him one last time.

Breaths mingling, you sit for what could be minutes or hours, staring into each other’s heady gazes. His face seems to now be permanently tainted a dark flustered blue, though his eyes hold nothing but bare admiration and affection – a look you’d previously thought him incapable of possessing. You're sure you must look similar.

“I–”

“You don't need to speak–”

“No,” he replies firmly, hand grasping yours against his cheek, nose digging into the softness of your palm tenderly, “I must apologize for the situation I put you in. I had no right to make that decision for you. Even if it all turned out alright in the end.”

“It is the way of the gods, is it not?” You answer dismissively, looking off to the side once the reality of who you’re speaking to crashes down on you.

Just how different from them can he really be?

You completely miss the dejected look on his face.

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