#Red Velvet Vixen

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Christmas (Holiday) Smut, Red Ribbons, Candy Canes, Peppermint Sensations, Sleigh Bells, Sexy Santa References, Dean is Tied Up, Edging, Oral Sex, 69, Vaginal Sex, Reader is a Naughty Little Vixen, Dean deserves a proper (sexy) Christmas.

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Notes: This smutty little fic is a holiday gift for @jessjad for the 2023 SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy the reader’s sexy times with Dean.

Big thanks to @sam-is-my-safeword and runawaydr3amer (AO3) for reading the first draft and helping with a great many awesome smut ideas. Additional thanks to runawaydr3amer, who also beta’d this fic and packaged it up nice and shiny. 

Merry holidays!

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo, and this part will fill my "Edging" square.

Resources:

Collage created in Canva

Pic found on Google (Fanpop)

Song Reference: Santa Baby by Joan Javits and Philip Springer (listen/watch this version sung by Eartha Kitt)

Dean sinks those pearly whites into the flesh of his bottom lip. His top lip pulls up and back into a painful sneer. The usual rosy, pillowy fullness of that mouth is instead taut, whitening under the capture. You laser focus onto the pointy canine denting into the mouth you have debated sitting on since you began this teasing challenge.

jingle

You finish fashioning a sweet little bow with the ribbon. It’s ruby red and velvety soft.

“Well, I think that’s about the prettiest package I ever did wrap.”

jingle

“What do you think, Mr. Claus?” you ask, your voice as innocent and demure as you can manage.

Dean opens his mouth and expels a slow gasp. jingle “Fuck, sweetheart. You aren’t playin’ fair.”

“That’s the whole point.”

You rise from the edge of the bed and take in the entire scene. It’s magnificent. 

He’s magnificent.

Dean is lying atop the forest green comforter of your bed. Naked. Well, not totally naked. A red ribbon - adorned with one single sleigh bell - binds his wrists together and anchors him to the headboard. His arms, jutting out and bent to create a diamond-shaped frame around his face, give you a prime ticket to the gun show. Biceps flex and tendons raise under the skin as he tries to remain as motionless as possible.

jingle

You aren’t a complete heathen. He’s got a fluffy pillow, the same deep green color as the comforter, to rest his head atop. Dean is anything but sleepy. He’s wound up. He stares back at you, the green of his irises electric and flaming with intensity.

You anticipate how sublime it will feel to strum the cords of his neck. Tickle your fingertips down that chest. You imagine Dean ring-a-ding-dinging and cursing himself if you take the time to trace the outline of his tattoo. Circle those perky nipples. Dip into his belly button and follow his treasure trail of baby-fine hair.

You marvel again at the other ribbon that you tied. You’d purchased a couple yards of red velvet at the craft store weeks ago with this in mind. With him in mind. You were ecstatic it had been enough to criss-cross around the crease below that fine ass. It wraps over a slight vee along his waist. The makeshift holiday jockstrap has Dean’s beautiful, now fully erect, cock sporting a bow.

Dean sighs. “Are you done decking my balls?” jingle

You giggle and fiddle with the belt of your robe. It’s red as well, but made of silk. “As we discussed, the end result of all of this is all up to you. Santa.” You flip a switch to turn off the ceiling light. The sconces stay on above the headboard. Two halos figure eight over Dean’s beautiful body, awash in a warm amber glow.

He’s a full print ad of holiday cheer and sinful debauchery.

“You’re being very naughty, (jingle) Mrs. Claus.” Dean licks his top lip—your core clenches at the deep timbre of his scolding. 

You’ve been wet since you both finished Christmas dinner. Since you told him you had one more gift for him waiting upstairs. Since you left him in the bedroom with orders to strip while you changed in the bathroom. Since you pulled out the ribbons. Since you explained that if he was good and could keep his jingling down to a minimum through what you had planned, you’d fuck him into the New Year.

You inhale and shrug, then begrudgingly turn your back to the sight. It takes a few taps on your phone for you to get to the song. You stifle another giggle at the little jingles Dean can’t help as he waits. 

Once you tap the play button, the festive and recognizable melody begins. A barbershop quartet bah-bums a bit before the sultry and smooth vocals of Eartha Kitt take the lead.

You look back over your shoulder at Dean and whisper along with Eartha.

You peel the silky robe off one shoulder then the other. Dean groans when the layer slips down to the floor. jingle

“Shit.” He moans and you grin in satisfaction at the hoped for reaction.

You turn back to face him, adding a dramatic hair flip. You're wearing a sexy little Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s a red velvet dress with a scandalously high skirt and a low-cut halter. White fur lines both the top and bottom. It’s all cinched nice and tight around your waist with a black belt and a gold buckle.

You bend at the knees and lean forward, shoulders folding in and hands resting on your thighs. It gives Dean the perfect vantage to ogle your cleavage. You purr along with the next line and modify the lyrics a smidge.

“Man, I must have been a really good boy this year.” Dean stares in awe, not even caring how much he’s jingling with his squirms atop the bed.

You let it slide for the time being, thrilled at the kid in a candy store grin plastered on his face and the way the bow sways with every twitch of his cock.  

Dean tilts his head to the side. His gaze begins at your red-glitter heels and canvases every inch of skin from ankles to thighs. He pauses, stopping to stare at the hint of flesh under the skirt hem. jin-jingle jingle jin-jingle He pants out, “Mrs. Claus forgot her panties, huh?”

You lift a finger and wiggle it back and forth in the air. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember, really good boys stay still if they want their present.”

The bell jangles no matter how carefully he attempts to reposition himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and you laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be good,” he whispers soft and sweet.

The heels tap across the hardwood as you walk over to settle beside Dean. You adjust your skirt to let the scant amount of fabric fan over your naughty bits. Being so close to him makes you forget the lyrics to sing along with Eartha.

You rest a hand on his chest. Through clenched teeth, Dean inhales at the touch, the rest of him frozen in place. The bell is silent. Your other hand grabs one of the candy canes you had left on the bedside table. For reasons.

Watching him fight every urge he has to reach out and touch you is fascinating. And the power you have over him gives you a head rush. You continue the tease, twirling the candy between your fingers, then laving the cane’s hook with your mouth and tongue. Dean garners some pity from you as he whines, brows downturned, eyes attentive to your every swirl and suck. You swing the cane close to his mouth. “Wanna taste?”

He swallows. “Wanna taste you,” he states, the hint of hope escaping around the edges of a soft moan.

The thrill of his need quickens your pulse. No other man has loved and adored you as thoroughly and exuberantly as Dean Winchester. You nod. “You will. But, first,” you rub the wet-slick candy cane over his bottom lip, “show me what that mouth wants to do.”

“You know what this mouth can do,” he reminds with a little sass, letting the candy cane tap against his bottom teeth. 

But soon enough, he indulges you. He slips the hook between his lips. His tongue slides out under the curve of peppermint, lapping at the sticky sweet. Again and again. Your breath hitches into your open mouth as you watch, enthralled at the ministrations of that thick and powerful muscle. He sucks the confection in a little farther, pursing his lips. The sounds he’s making, enjoying the treat, are downright pornographic and send any extraneous bell ringing to the back of your hearing queue. The red food coloring coats them like lip gloss by the time you break from the spell of his show. You guess it’s been minutes since Eartha finished her rendition of ‘Santa, Baby.’ The rest of the playlist you created has soft and dreamy instrumentals.

“My turn,” you cajole. You tug on the cane. He relinquishes, but not without some resistance. A little pop escapes his mouth once the hook is freed. You marvel at the progress he made. The hook end is substantially shorter and thinner than when he began.

He sniffs and tilts his chin up in pride. jingle “Your turn with that, or my turn with you?”

The cane slips back into your mouth, your fingers sticky from all the handling. You stand, kick off your heels, and climb back onto the bed on your knees. You grin as you suck on the candy.

His eyes soften. “Be careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke. Well, at least not on that.” He smirks.

He’s right. Safety first. You toss the candy onto the bedside table.

“You are so (jingle) fucking hot in that (jingle) outfit.” He grins and waggles eyebrows in anticipation. “Gonna let me down your chimney, Mrs. Claus?” jingle jingle jingle

The actions in the next few seconds are a blur. You wonder if Dean has some sort of Jedi mind control ability. Because even though you are supposed to be the one making decisions this evening, his seductively god-awful puns find you sitting on his face, reverse cowgirl. 

“You might get the golden ticket to all my secret places if you’re lucky.” Your fingers tip-toe down his chest like a grinch about to steal someone else’s presents. 

jingle jingle jingle

“Fuckin’ hell,” Dean murmurs under your skirt. Hot breath bathes your inner thighs and other areas you hope will soon be explored.

Your hands rest in the little divots created by his pelvic bones while you take his body in and plan your method of attack. You pull on the ribbon and release his cock of the bow. Then, you’re deep throating him like he’s your last meal.

Not one to be outdone at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Dean’s entire face gets in on the feast as well. Nerves respond to the tingling sensation of the residual peppermint on Dean’s lips and tongue. You shiver at the gloriously heightened sensitivity when he pulls back to blow on your pussy. “This is so much better than milk and cookies.” He moans and groans and jingles all the way. 

As much as you’re loving the taste of his precome, the velvet texture against your tongue, and the way the tip triggers a tiny gag reflex at the base of your throat, it’s time to remind him of the consequences of all that noise he’s making. You release the hard length from your mouth and try to concentrate on your own breathing during the absolute virtuoso way he’s eating you out. As much as you’d love his fingers to get in on the action, you know you’d have no control over the situation. You sigh in relief that he’s trying to adhere to some parts of the game. The pitiful, half-hearted ribbon shackling of his hands to the headboard is no match for Dean Winchester.

You steady yourself on wobbly knees and one shaky elbow. A firm grip around the base of his cock makes Dean gasp. He stills after that. In your mind’s eye, you picture the beauty of that mouth and how his luscious pink lips were slick with peppermint. You imagine how slick they are with you now. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs and you feel him settle back onto the pillow. “I’ll be as quiet as I can. Can you blame me, though? Here I am, under your sweet little skirt, in the dark (jingle)... shit, sorry. But, you can’t drop a five-course meal in front of a starving (jingle) man and not expect him to wanna little taste.”

You squeeze his cock. “That’s part of the challenge.”

“I’m always up for a challenge. You always make me feel so good.”

You groan at the praise he bestows. Without releasing your hold, you shimmy off his chest. Channeling the prim and delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Claus, you crawl along the comforter and settle between nutcracker bow legs. With knees tucked under you and sat atop bare feet you accept him in your mouth again and get to work. 

You take in the sight of Dean inventorying your every action. He’s gripping the top of the headboard with both hands to steady his upper body. You clock that the little stinker has also managed to palm the sleigh ball in an effort to silence or, at the very least, muffle it. You consider that move cheating. But he feels so sublime that you can’t bear to part with him to voice your irritation. He’s also whispering the sweetest filth to you while he watches.

“Damn. Yeah. Those lips of yours feel so good around my cock. You take it so good, baby. Wish I could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, but I’d definitely jingle-jangle way too much.” A tongue swipe over his top lip accentuates the glossy look of his ruby-tinted mouth in the warm light. “You really are too good to me. You give the best Christmas presents.” He stiffens further with each downstroke. “Aw, yeah. Suck it.” Your rhythm increases. “So pretty. Wanna touch you so bad.” He gasps. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ close.” jingle jingle   

You clamp around the base again and squeeze, freeze mid-swallow - your lips around the tip - as soon as he rings.

Dean squirms and grumbles.

You continue to bring him to the edge of orgasm, then halt. Your jaw is aching along with the rest of your body as time passes.

You’ve fucked Dean up in the best way possible. He’s blissed out, wound up tighter than a spring. You’ve got him begging. But his words grow into admonishments with each successive denial. “You can’t keep doing this, baby. There’s gonna be consequences. Santa’s gonna for real put you on his naughty list. Nothing but coal in your stocking,” he huffs.

You give your mouth a reprieve and stroke him. “Is that all that happens to naughty girls?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip before offering, “You really wanna find out?”

You nod.

The ribbon binding Dean to the headboard shreds with one mighty tug. He pitches the sleigh bell in the air. It jingles as it pinballs around the room. 

You gasp as he cinches those hands under your armpits and drags you up his body. He crushes his lips into yours, tastes you with his tongue. The mixture of your arousal and a hint of peppermint melts you in his arms. Then, a sudden and swift rollover pins you beneath him.

He hovers, tosses your skirt up to your chest, and wedges between your legs. His hard, heavy cock slips into your folds and glides through your wetness. “I could drag this out. Or.” It’s his turn to tease. He notches snug against your entrance. You’re surprised your muscles haven’t pulled him into you of their own accord the way your entire body spasms with need. He whispers in your ear, “Let me be your Santa, baby.”

You gasp, “And hurry down the chimney tonight.”

He groans in victory and slides in, balls deep. He thrusts. One massive hand gathers your wrists together on the pillow above your head to anchor you in place. Fingers of his other hand grip the top of the headboard. Every sway in and out of you gets more frenetic. You’re screaming his name and he’s cursing yours. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” he states, out of breath, face reddening. His gaze locks with yours. He slows down. Releases your hands. Finds your clit amid the white fur and red velvet. Strums. Angles and hits your sweet spot deep within you with a harsh abandon. “Come.”

Minutes later, after you’ve both orgasmed, you’re curled into his chest. “That was…” you manage between heavy exhales.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He kisses your forehead. “Every year, since I saved you from that ghost on Christmas Eve, you find a way to outdo yourself with the holiday cheer.”

“Well, you deserve it. I’m glad you can get away for a little while and get a special treat.”

He sighs. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to…”

You rest a finger atop his lips. “How I see it. Guy saves your life one time, you owe him the rest of yours.”

He smiles and pulls you in. “How about we just focus on tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #christmas smut

[giuliettagaltieri]

Kruger and Vixen

Pairing: Spy!Eren Jaeger x Thief!reader

Synopsis: Having a love-hate relationship is fun until Eren messes it up, driving you away.

Warning: Guns, mentions of violence, angst, threatening behavior, unprotected sex.

Word Count: 7077

“Pizza’s here.”  Eren mumbles, looking past the newspaper in his hands.  “I can’t quite tell if it’s pepperoni.”  He folds the paper and places it on the bench in which he is currently sitting on.  “I’ll go see for myself.”

Casually, Eren stands to do a small stretch and heads across the street to the museum.

“It’s a little chilly tonight, isn’t it?”

“Ah, no worries, Coconut head.  I wore extra layers.”  Eren grins at nobody in specific, patting his particularly hard abdomen, as he slips in an alleyway.

“Avatar Aang left you a snack.”

Eren knelt and dug through a garbage bag to see a Glock, groaning when he doesn’t see anything more.

“Where’s the hot sauce?”

“You are to ask some from the pizza guy.”

Eren scoffs, hopping on top of the garbage bins with ease after securing the Glock in his belt holster.  “I doubt he’ll give it so willingly.”

He easily lifts himself up to uncover the vents. The dusty, grimy, cramped vents.

“You should head straight, turn left, and then take another left, you’ll find the pizza guy and his customers soon enough.”

Eren groans, the small vent was not really made for a man with his build, not to mention the thick dust that could give him asthma any moment now.  “Alright, I want radio silence until then.”

“Have fun.”

There was a small static before Eren heard nothing but silence from the other side of the earpiece.

Eren heaves himself up, struggling to fit his wide shoulders.  He made the mistake of taking a deep breath after he got himself in, coughing the dust out as a result.  Slowly, he inched his way forward.

He was just about to turn on the first left when he heard the unmistakable sounds of gunshots.  Eren went still.  The agency sent nobody else but him.  It was a confidential mission that they did not even bother telling the police yet.

Who could be interfering?

The culprit was revealed sooner than Eren could have expected.

He had come face to face with your startled form. Mouth parted in a silent yelp just before it quirks up into a smile.

“Well, well, well.  If it isn’t my favorite superspy.”

“Kruger?”

Eren struggled to reach for the earpiece to shut it off just before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Shut the fuck up!  Are you trying to screw us up?”  Eren seethed before glaring at her.  “I’m gonna try to move backwards.  As it’s impossible to move otherwise.”

She stifles a laugh.  “M’kay, Jaeger.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“Oh, come on.  It’s just the two of us here.”  She rolls her eyes.  “Plus, I also got the package.  I can give some to you but you have to let me keep the pink pistol.”

The crawl back to the alleyway was rather agonizing.  Especially since they had to stay for a couple more minutes before jumping out of the museum vents and back to the alleyway.

“Can’t believe you messed up the mission.”  Eren spat while taking off his black leather jacket that was full of dust bunnies.

You giggle as you swing around the chrome briefcase.  “But I got the package and I can also give you the buyers’ names.”

Eren perks up at that and comes to a halt, waiting for you to start talking.  But you walk right pass him, chin held up, with a relaxed smile plastered on your velvet red lips.

“But first, you’ll have to wine and dine me.”

Eren could only watch you walk further and further away from him.  

He eyes the case in your hand to the sway of your hips that was accentuated by the tight black dress that you chose to wore. His eyes continue to trail down to your calves that are clad in black tights, what an impractical outfit you’re wearing.  The click clacks of your black Louboutin halt and he shifts his eyes up just in times when you turn to look at him.  “You coming?”

After a split second of deliberation, Eren chases after you.

He offers to carry the case, an act done without malice but you only chose to narrow your eyes at him before saying ‘no’.

The diner was pleasant, the wine was also very smooth, the sex that came after, even better.

Eren throws his head back, rutting his hips against you.  The mascara runs down your cheeks, staining the pristine white pillow of the hotel room as your lips with smeared lipstick part to let out a whimper which can barely be heard over the squeaking of the bed.

His bruising grip on your hips tighten, feeling you flutter pleasantly when he thrusts a little too sharply, going balls deep. A thick ring of cream coating his shaft, the rest of it leaking on your thick thighs.  He leans to kiss your shoulder, his blushing tip kissing your cervix as his balls presses flush against your lips.  You squeeze your eyes shut when your feel its warmth and heaviness.

“Ren, want it.”  You turn to look at him and bat your eyelashes that clumped together after hours and hours of crying from pure ecstasy.  

Eren licks the sharpness of his tooth, feeling his chest swell with pride.  “Of course, you do.  You little slut.”

You hit him gently when he jostles you up to put a pillow underneath your belly after you collapse in the mattress from exhaustion.  “Not a slut.” You slur.

He finds it funny how you can still say that after going dumb, creaming and gushing all over his dick.  Eren grips your jaw to kiss you deeply.  “How could I forget.  You’re my spoiled pillow princess.”

You clutch the cloud soft pillow under you when Eren uses his grip on your jaw to fuck deeper into you.  He swallows your moans and cries.  Reveling in it.

The uncontrollable twitching of your thighs tells Eren that your fifth orgasm for the night is close and he won’t let that go to waste.  He snaps his hips, sliding in and out of you faster, with a renewed drive.

You cum hard, your velvet walls gripping him like a vice, it sent Eren into overdrive, releasing copious amount of milky seed inside you, filling you to the brim and adding to the previous load he pumped earlier, making your mound squelch with his every thrust.

Eren whispers sweet nothings in your ear, telling you that you were so good for him, how you were such a good girl for him, that you did so well, when all you did was spread your legs and lie down for him to debauch, it sent your head floating high up, subconsciously gripping onto his arm that he wrapped around your midriff.  

His nose skim on your moist cheeks, some of his hair came undone from his manbun and tickled your neck.  You bask in his warmth, getting high off the afterglow.

Needless to say, Eren could not come to regret indulging in such activities with you, not even when he had to face the cross-examination of Erwin, the deputy director, and the sharp comments of Levi.

“Get your head in the game, Agent Kruger.  You were lucky to have retrieved the biohazard samples, albeit losing a few rifles.”  Erwin tells him.

Levi clicks his tongue.  “Screw up the next mission and you’ll be sitting behind a desk for a year.”

Eren meets Levi’s eyes, weighing the risk, but Eren has never been one to run away.  “Yes, sir.”

“We received a tip involving suspicious activity in the south harbor but the threat is not that concerning as of the moment, as reported by Forster.”  Levi tells him and takes a sip from his tea.

Erwin nods.  “For now, Agent Kruger, you will be deployed to infiltrate the Fort Slava depository with your captain.”  Levi glances at Eren sharply.  “Your task is to retrieve a stolen necklace that long belonged to the Reiss family. You are to leave pronto.  The rest of the information will be given to you en route.”

After being dismissed, Eren made haste to the locker room to retrieve his special effects.  Two sets of footsteps quickly following him.

“That was stupid, what you did.”  Came the sharp tone of Mikasa, making Eren wince.

Armin looks at Mikasa, unsure if he should add to what she said, Eren had just been scolded by their superiors after all.

“I think what Mikasa is trying to say, is that.” He hesitates when the other two looks at him directly, an obvious absence of smile displayed in their faces. “We were anxious when you disappeared from the coms.”

Eren groans.  “I am aware.  I was told repeatedly.”

“Then why aren’t you looking more remorseful? We were worried.”  Mikasa takes a step closer to him, clearly mad but the trace of concern clearly evident in her eyes.  “I was worried.”

Eren sighs, fixing his hair into a manbun.  “I get it.  But you have to remember that my life does not revolve around you people. My decisions do not concern you.”

Armin found it almost comical how a fire could ignite so swiftly in Mikasa’s eyes, almost visibly evaporating the tiniest traces of tears.

“Just how selfish could you be, Eren?  You were in a mission, a mission which involves us by the way.  We have every right to be concerned.”  She spits, face now coming close to his, in anger.

Eren finishes stuffing his bag with his necessities and slammed his locker shut, brushing past the two.  “I appreciate your concern but tone it down a little, perhaps.  I’m a grown ass man, I don’t require supervision.”

Armin and Mikasa could only watch him slam the door at them.

The flight to Marley was as suffocating as it could be.  Eren could not get a rest from Levi’s chilling glares.  Even the instructions were delivered in a passive aggressive tone that had more bite than it should.  But he made a mistake, he had to face the consequences.

The decision of the agency to invest in cloaking devices worked in their favor.  Their plane entered the Marley territory without being chased by bogeys.

Eren glances below.  It was pitch black, but just ahead lies the Fort Slava depository. One of the most impregnable infrastructures in whole of Marley.

A strong gush of wind hits Eren in the face and he sees Levi about to jump, a parachute already in his back.  “Getting cold feet?”  And he jumps off.

Without wasting another second long, Eren grabs a parachute of his own and follows after Levi.  

His stomach dropped but he recovers quickly by angling his body down to descend faster.

Bright red numbers on his watch indicating his distance from the ground prompted Eren to open his parachute.  He taps his glasses to see better, the sun has long retired for the day.  Levi was nowhere in sight.

“Over here, brat.”  Levi calls, making Eren look up.

They both land as quietly as they can, immediately fixing their chute to ensure that there is no trace of their presence in the area.  

Building endurance has proven effective when they reach Fort Slava in no time after an entire five kilometer run.  Their infrared detecting devices were more useful than Eren thought.  He would have turned to ribbons had it not been for the glasses.

Levi was more agile, given his experience, yet Eren is conflicted about his plan to split up to look for the stolen necklace faster.  He could breathe a little easier away from his captain but he knew he will get a bit reckless when left alone, though he later concedes.  Levi chose to explore underground while Eren chose to sweep the floor above.

He was careful, moving just in time to stay out of the roaming guards’ field of vision.  Memorizing the blueprint where the cameras are, also came in handy to Eren.

The entire floor was illuminated in bright lights but one particular corridor was bathed in darkness.  Eren tapped his glasses but to his surprise, no sensors were in there.

A trap is what it is.

But a shiny black shoe poking in the corner told Eren that it might not be it.

He feels the cold metal of the Glock in his holster.  Stealthily, he entered the said corridor.  It would seem like nothing was out of the ordinary if Eren hadn’t been paying close attention, he would have missed the unmistakable silhouette of a woman that he knew too well.

“Are you stalking me, Jaeger?”

Eren drops the gun.  “Oh, for Heaven’s sake!”

You stand to your full height after being on your knees, trying to crack open a safe.

Eren walks over to you, fuming.  But you raise your chin to meet him with a haughty smirk, your nose brushing.

“The fuck are you doing here?”

You gesture behind you.

He glances at it.  

“What’s in there.”

You shrug.  “I don’t know yet.  Must be pretty valuable if I had to disable a ton of alarms.”

Eren runs a hand through his hair, making his already messy hair, even messier.  “It couldn’t possibly be a necklace, right?”

Lifting an intricate looking pin, you raise a brow at him.  “Wouldn’t you like to find out.”

He nods at you, a nonverbal request for you to open it just before looking back to the entrance of the corridor to see if anyone had come.  Eren then watches you work, your exposed neck distracting him.  

“When will you start dressing up more practically?” Eren grumbles.  “Wear a bulletproof vest at least.”

You chuckle.  “That would ruin my outfit, Jaeger.”  You put a finger on your lips to hush him and you press your ear against the safe.

Click

Eren cups your hands when you attempt to open it.

“What?”

He shakes his head and pushes you aside, gently. “We don’t know what would happen.” He tilts his head to the side. “Move.”

You shake your head after feeling a tingly warmth in your chest, touched with his concern.

Eren glances at you and then to the safe.  You watch his shoulder loosening up.

“Oh, thank goodness.”  He laughs.

“What?”  You raise both brows, confused.  You peek pass his shoulders and see a solid gold necklace littered with large blue diamonds.  “Dear me, is that the Reiss rivière?”

Eren hums.  “Is that what it’s called?”

He is one of the most highly regarded spies. A superspy, as what you like to call him.

You giggle, resting an arm on Eren’s shoulder to place a kiss on his temple.  “You’re precious, Jaeger.”

He swats you gently.  “I was just told that we’ll be retrieving a necklace owned by the Reiss family and they showed us what it looked like and to be frank, that’s all I needed to know.”

Purposely, he leaves out the fact that this could put an end to the cold war and begin a real one.  Paradis and Marley are just looking for excuses to start a war.

The necklace was stolen to provoke the Paradis monarchs to fire first but the intelligence unit decided it would be best to retrieve it with discretion rather than launch a violent assault, that would be playing directly into their hands.

You cup his cheeks to place a gentle kiss on his pouting lips before walking away from him with added sensuality in your walk. “I’ll still be in town tomorrow. Come see me if you’re free.”

Eren watches you open a window, swinging your heel clad feet in the air as you hook a device from your bracelet on the window ledge.  You send a flying kiss to him, making a thin hue of pink to spread on his cheeks, and you disappear.

A sharp blow behind Eren’s head brought him back to reality.

“Captain.”

“Was that the Vixen?”  Levi is glaring up at him.  “You better have a good explanation prepared, Kruger.”  He then hums while eyeing the necklace.  “Well done, finding it”

Eren didn’t really find it but he decides it’s best to shut his mouth for now.  

He holds his breath, watching Levi disarm more pressured alarms.  Releasing a sigh of relief upon seeing Levi place the necklace on a case and replacing it with an imitation.

The chances of Marley finding out about the dupe is rather large.  However, they won’t make a fuss about it, not publicly at least.  Their dirty tricks would be blatantly discovered then.

Paradis just returned the favor.

“Let’s get outta here.”  Levi grumbles.

But before that, they need to get out of the country first.

Eren raises a finger, pressing his lips together. “We might want to take care of that guy over there before leaving.”  He points to a guard that you knocked down.  

Levi glares at Eren before pulling out a syringe. “Surely a dose of concentrated mind-altering drug will do the job.”  Giving false memories is better than killing the man.  A corpse would surely alert them that an enemy has been there.

Placing an empty hip flask smeared with the man’s drool was a little overkill but they can never be too careful.

It was already midafternoon when they’re done reporting to Erwin.  Levi was strangely considerate, not mentioning the woman that was kissing their agent in the scene, but the amount of shade that he was throwing at Eren was enough consequence, making Eren want to shrink at every quip, cheeks already at a deep shade of red.

They’ll be leaving at midnight, he has enough time to explore the town for just a little bit, a reason he told his superior when asked where he is going.  Although, he is aware that Levi hardly believed him.

“I saved you a seat.”  You say sweetly after sipping on your cup of coffee, leaving a seductive red stain on the pristine cup.  Eren watched you move your Tom Ford coat from the back of the empty seat to place it on your lap.

He eyes you cautiously while sitting down, and you look at him from behind your sunglasses.  

“Calm down, Jaeger.  I don’t bite.  Unless provoked.”  You add the last one with a dangerous smirk.  He grins at that.  You never fail to keep him on his toes.  “Why don’t you get yourself a cup of coffee?”  You ask, to which Eren does so, gladly.  

A waiter comes and you smile at the way Eren says his order.

“What?”  He raises a brow, quite offended.

“The way you said the pastry.”  You hide your smile as you take a sip from your cup, being consistent in sipping in one area, limiting the mess.  “Clearly privileged.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  He asks, more agitated.

“I don’t know.”  You place the cup down on the saucer with the softest clink. “It’s just so posh.”

He scoffs.  “As if you aren’t.”

You share a light banter over a cup of coffee and a couple of tea cakes.  Sharing hushed conversations about your recent escapades.  You giddily accept his offer to walk around town, gladly taking up any offer to spend time with him outside the bedroom or whenever you’re not at gunpoint.

It felt like something that was pulled right out of a romance novel.

Even the soft breeze and the warm glow of the setting sun.

He did not miss how your eyes lingered on the luxury jewelry in the display cases of a store you passed by and of course, Eren just had to bring you inside.

It will eternally be unfathomable to him how you could look like you eat men for breakfast but turn into a shy virgin just for him.

“You are being too generous!  I cannot take that.”  You blurt, face warm as you push the pearl earrings encrusted with pigeon blood rubies back to Eren.

Eren sighs, pushing the tiny box back to you. The jeweler’s eyes following the box comically.  After knowing the price, you can sympathize with her.  Just the tiniest bit.

“Please, take it.”

You shake your head ‘no’.  “Clearly, you are not in your right mind, spending so much money on me.”  Laughing softly, you push it back to him.

“I can assure you, I am.”  Eren says, a little too sternly.  To which, you start to consider as the warmth in your chest returns.  “You are worth every penny.”  Your eyes shyly meeting his, then watching the beautiful glint of the stones.

“Well.”   You smile. “If you insist.”

Eren straightens up, grinning at you.  “Now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You hated how he can appear so devil may care yet so commanding.  It weakens you.

Biting your bottom lip, you try your hardest to contain your giddy smile.

The rest of the afternoon was spent with a much lighter atmosphere.  Full of contentment.  He did not know if it was just how you look with the added jewelry that he got for you or just the feeling of you in his arms.

Your kiss goodnight—not goodbye, never goodbye—was all too sweet.

He went back with an undeterrable smile on his lips.

Eren had to avoid the accusing glares of his captain.

Apparently, the said captain could not let it slip how somebody outside the team was in the scene.  A civilian involved, with no proper knowledge of confidentiality could be the catalyst of this decades long cold war between Paradis and Marley.  He gave a more discreet report to Erwin, in a form of paperwork so as to not intentionally demean Eren in the previous call.

For the next mission, Eren would be temporarily relived as a field agent.

He felt uneasy, seeing everybody in full gear, it was a large operation after all, and him just in his jeans and unbuttoned dress shirt, a half empty coffee cup in his hand, felt rather insignificant.

The liquid in his hand, its bitter taste reflecting how he is feeling at the moment.

“I could help the team.  They all know it.”  He spits.

Mikasa and Armin glances at each other, apprehension flooding from them.

“Chill out, Kruger.  We got this.”  It was Jean who slapped his back.  “We’ll come get you take-outs on the way back”

Sasha and Connie pause from checking and loading the magazines upon the mention of food.

Eren nods.  “If anything goes wrong.  Holler away.” He taps the earpiece in his right ear and the rest gives him a reassuring smile.

A frown permanently rests on his forehead as he watches them get in Humvees.  This operation does not require discretion.  The agency did not take any chances and dispatched as many active agents. They’ll be winning with quantity.

After another sip from his bitter coffee, Eren makes his way to the monitoring room to track the dispatched vehicles.

The operation is more of a raid to confiscate biohazard chemicals and unregistered firearms.  Nothing they can’t handle.

“Hey, Kruger.”  

He looks up to see Floch.

In his full gear.

“Hey.”  Eren eyes him as the man sits beside him.  “Sorry, were you supposed to be part of the raid?”

“Nah.  I’m on suspension.”  Floch shakes his head, chuckling.

Eren nods slowly.  He deserved it.  Giving a shitty report like that.

“I just can’t help it you know.”  Floch says to him, smiling.  “They were doing research on a fluid that could be a potential bioweapon.”  He grins wider.  “No one would be able to stand in our way if they complete that research.”

The quiet buzzing of the monitors and the humming of the coffee maker near them fills the silence that was so thick it was suffocating.  Making Eren put on a bit more effort in breathing as his lungs seized up, his hands shaking just the slightest, itching to form a fist and land on something.

“And what a coincidence it was that you’re here.” Floch exclaims.  “I’ve been waiting to have the chance to talk to you, you know.  I feel like we see eye to eye on these things.”  

Eren breaks into cold sweat.  “Indeed.”  But he forces a smile, sitting back, to appear nonthreatening.  Don’t provoke him.  Yet.  “And the team?”

Floch tilts his head to the side.  “We won’t be needing close minded people in our cause.”

In one swift movement, Eren slams Floch on the desk, calling the attention of the other agents in the area, quickly assisting Eren after getting a gist of what happened.

“You asshole!  I am doing this for Paradis!”

The red dots following the Humvees vanish.

It’s a trap.

“It’s a fucking trap!”  Eren curses under his breath and sprints out.

Gods, the team.  His friends.

He taps on his earpiece.

“Hey, Coconut head.  Come in, come in.”  Fuck! “Horseface, you there?”

His lungs were burning as he leapt over a bench in the lobby, squeezing out of the glass doors next.  He is not a field agent as of the moment, he has no access to any form of transportation.  He bumped into more people than he can count the second he got to the street but he could only run and run.

Loud screeching of breaks had his shoes scraping off the pavement in an attempt to stop just on time before getting hit by a car.

Not just any car.

A Bugatti Chiron.

Perfect.

The driver, dressed in a fine suit, with an expensive looking sunglass, curses at his face.  Only to clamp shut when Eren grins at him, the glint in his eyes hostile, telling the man that he is up to no good.  

Eren pulls the car door open to get to the man’s face.  “Sorry sir, official government business.  You wouldn’t mind giving me a ride to the docks now, would you?”

A quick flash of the gun in Eren’s holster and the man was quick to nod his head.

Eren hopped on the passenger seat and the man speeds off.

He fishes out a device from his pockets and still, he can’t pick up the signal from the team.  He taps in his earpiece once more, just listening, waiting to pick up anything.

The man makes a sharp turn and Eren regrets not buckling himself in, his tendons almost popping as he gripped the edge of his seat.  In the distance, he heard the unmistakable sounds of gunshots, just as the breaks screech to a halt.

“I’m not driving in there.”  The man blurts, eyes wide, his face drained with color.

Poor guy.

Eren nods, patting the man’s shoulder and jumps out, resuming his sprint.

He hides behind a building, just enough for him to hear the gunshots and see movement, but not enough to really see the clear faces of anybody in there.

“-Ger!  Kruger!”

Mikasa!

She must have been just close enough for him to pick up the feed.

“Where are you?  I couldn’t get ahold any of you!”  Eren says through gritted teeth as he loads his gun.  “Are you safe?  What about the others?”

“I’m with Sasha right now.  We got separated with the others.”  She pants from the other side.  “Listen, I need you to lock in our coordinates and send a drone strike-”

Eren cuts her off with a sound of protest. “That’s too risky, it could get you.” But he knows Mikasa won’t do such rash decisions unless she knows what she’s doing.  “Where are you?  I’m in the docks right now.”

There was silence.

“You had one job!  To stay put.  How could you manage to put yourself in danger all the time?”

He grimaces.  “Mikasa, I’m safe where I am now.  You guys are the ones in danger.  But listen, I am sending the instructions to the base.”  He says while his fingers tap on his device in lightning speed.  “If we could just get the signal back in your devices, we could direct the drone’s target.”

“We saw a jammer just a floor above us.  We’re on the move.  If we could disable that, we’ll defi-”

A deafening boom resonates in the area, the shock blast reaching where Eren is.  Ruble and shards flying around, only missing him as he is situated behind a building wall.

There was a loud high-pitched screeching from the earpiece and Eren scrambles to the edge of the wall, looking at the other buildings, now lit on fire, a few of its walls missing.

What the fuck was that?

Almost in a trance, Eren stands there, in the open. A bullet could hit him and he won’t notice from how numb his body went.

That couldn’t have been their air strike, he did not confirm with the base yet.

Mikasa and Sasha.  The others.

His heart hammered in his chest, so loud it pounded in his ears, growing louder than the screeching earpiece.

In the corner of his eyes, a black piece of clothing ruffles in the wind before vanishing behind an alley.

Without another moment wasted, Eren was chasing the person, cocking his gun as he went.  The alley was thick with smog but he sees the black coat, the person still running, getting further and further away as they picked up the pace after hearing his footsteps.

Pieces of rubble get crushed under the thick soles of Eren’s boots.  

In a desperate attempt to get the person to stop, he aims and pulls the trigger.

He heard the person yelp as the bullet grazed their arm, sending them tumbling to the ground.

Eren caught up, flipping the person around by pulling their collar.

His blood freezes.

You are staring up at him, your hair coming undone and cascading on your shoulders, your face smeared with dirt after your fall and blood that oozes from your nose.

There is no way.

Is there?

You have always been conveniently where he was.

The missions that got him off this operation.

Floch mentioned about wanting to talk to him.

As if wanting him out of the raid.

You try to pry his hand from your clothing but his grip tightened, his veins popping as he pulled you closer to him.

It scares you, seeing that expression on him. You try one more time to move away but he presses the muzzle of the gun on your temple.

“Jaeger-”

“You bitch!  You’ve been in on this from the start.”  He seethes.

A frown twitches on your brows.  “What are you talking about.  I was only here for the spoils.”  You fearfully glance at the gun.  “Get that gun away from me, Jaeger!  This isn’t funny!”

“Stop lying!”  He screams in your face, making you shut your mouth, drawing further from him. He only pulls you up, closer to him as he looms over you.  “You were using me, you lowlife whore!”

A tear slips in the corner of your cheek.

“So, this is who you are, huh?  A deceitful slut, making a living from stealing, opening her legs for whomever catches her, to get away?”  You squeeze your eyes when he jostles you, shoving the gun on your temple, you can almost feel a bruise forming in there.  “Fucking answer, me!”

A sob wracks your body and you let go of him, making you dangle, your torso suspended in the air, only held up with Eren’s tight grip.  All fight gone from your body.

“You’re hurting me.”  You whisper, your voice trembling.  “I’m not working for anyone.  I promise, I wasn’t deceiving you.”  You continue to sob.

His grip loosens.

“Please don’t kill me.”

Eren’s eyes widen.  He looks at the gun that he’s pressing hard on your delicate head. His hand shakes just before he throws the gun away as if it burnt him.  How could he have done that?  To you?

He gently lowers you to the ground, clutching his hair in frustration, in fear, for what he’s done.

His chest tightens when you flinch away as he tried to wipe your tears.

“Baby.  I’m sorry. I-I don’t know what came over me.” He apologizes over and over but it does nothing to stop your tears, if anything, he’s only making it worse.

You shake your head when he tries to cradle your face, grimacing when he tried to pepper your face with kisses, growing deaf from his apologies and reassurances that you are safe.

That he won’t harm you.

But Eren felt sick, saying that when he was just threatening you with a loaded gun moments ago.

His stomach churned when you frightfully screamed for him to let you go when he wrapped his arms around you.  He was afraid you’d slip from his fingers and disappear if he didn’t.  He shook his head ‘no’ to your demands of being let go as he buries his face on your shoulder.

“Please, please.  I’m sorry.”  He mutters.

You struggle against him, becoming more and more desperate until you reached for something on your boot and sunk it on his thigh.

Eren felt it burn.  His embrace loosening to see a silver stiletto knife sticking out his thigh.  But he can’t even be mad at you.  

How could he?  When you just look so frightened.  

Of him.

This time, he did not try to stop you when you push him off, clutching the arm that he grazed with a bullet earlier.  You take one final look at him and sprint away, disappearing in another alley corner.

Eren’s chest pangs in pain, even more so than the wound on his thigh.  That one, he can see and remedy.  The one on his chest, however.

He hears a static.

“Kruger.  It was a thermobaric bomb.  Sasha and I managed to get away before it was detonated.”  

“It worked on our favor, miraculously.  It blew up the jammer.”

“Send the go signal to the base for the airstrike.”

Eren could only listen but his eyes remain from where you vanished.  He was half hoping you’d come back.  That whatever happened was just a false memory he conjured in his mind.  But he knows there is no taking back what he has done.

The medics are patching him up in the base, the stabbed wound in his thigh was not as deep as he initially thought.

“You’re lucky it missed any major vessels and nerves.”

“Yeah.”  He forced a laugh.  “Lucky me.”

Eren eyes his comrades that lie in infirmary beds, with varying injuries, some he had to rescue out of the burning buildings.

As deputy director, Erwin had to reinforce the rules, suspending Eren for six months for insubordination.  But he acknowledges Eren’s efforts and cut it down to three.

In his time off, Eren spent his time trying to dig information about you.

Vixen.

That was a name you chose not for yourself, but rather, an alias given to you by the agency.  

Security cameras often catch you but you are slick enough to not let your face be seen.

The agency chose to let you be as you have done no real harm as of the moment.

Eren first encountered you in a mission in Marley, where he stole your car to chase off a target.  You weren’t happy.  You sent him a ‘thank you’ in a form of a laxative infused cocktail.  It ruined his night.

Second time, he joined you as a prisoner in Hizuru, for reasons he can’t quite remember.  You both escaped that night.  It was the first time he worked with you.

After that, you often help each other out in missions, that is if you’re not too busy teasing him, unintentionally getting in his way.

But he can’t bring himself to push you away. He craved your presence.

And now, after three months has passed, with not a single sighting of you, he has grown uneasy.

He missed you.  Terribly so.

Eren accepted missions upon missions, not to distract him from this gnawing feeling, but to hope that in one of them, he’ll see you again.

But he does not.

He even got Armin to look for you in security cameras.

Armin does so, albeit conflicted.  But seeing his friend so distraught, pacing around in his apartment, wearing out the carpet that he just bought recently, he cannot help but try.

Still, there is no trace of you.

Eren left Armin’s apartment just a quarter before ten in the evening.

The subway train was still surprisingly full.

He had to squeeze his way through.

The train jerked forward, prompting him to hold on to the grab handle.  He rests his head on his bent arm, keeping his feet as steady to the ground as much as he can.

Someone by his side shifts and Eren raises his head to see.

A fucking creep was trying to grab the skirt of the woman standing just in front of him.  A reaction embedded in his muscles made him reach out to grab the man by the wrist.

The woman turns and a blinding glint led Eren to sweep his gaze down from the most tedious office outfit comprised of a white dress shirt, black pencil skirt, and black tights, to the tall black stilettos and finally, back to the jewelry pierced on the woman’s ears.

Pearl earrings encrusted with pigeon blood rubies.

His eyes widen just as the woman turns to look at him, her eyes flashes in surprise for a moment before she turns away quickly.

The man yells when Eren fails to notice that he is still gripping the man’s wrist, his hold tightening until the joint popped.

“Serves you right for trying to grope that woman!” Says an elderly woman who sat just in front of them.

All eyes were on the man who turned bright red in embarrassment.

The intercom buzzes then came the announcement of the stop.

Half of the people flooded out the doors and Eren calls your name but you quickly disappear in the crowd.

Eren pushed and shoved, apologizing but he did not stop anyway.

The cold breeze bit his skin the moment he got out of the station.

His eyes scanned the area, squinting, struggling to see with the limited light provided by the lampposts.  Eren jogged around the alleys, peeking through the dark closed up shops, turning his head at every movement or shadow, startling a cat that was just hopping off a bench.

Eren was just about to turn on his heel when he sees you sitting on a bench in the far corner of the park, he would not have seen you had he not been trained to pay keen attention to every detail within his sight and periphery.

You were turned away from him, sitting relaxed, unlike him who had his shirt sticking on his back, drenched with sweat, his chest still heaving.

He halted in his steps.  What would he say to you?

Eren sunk on the bench nearest to him.  He wanted to go talk to you but he just can’t figure out what to say.  He felt like a creep, just watching you from a distance.  

Even his shirt dried off from the amount of time he stalled.

What is he doing?  He’s not just gonna sit there the entire night now, is he?

You flinch upon hearing someone clear their throat behind you.  The bench creaks, telling you that someone sat next to you.  Still, you refuse to acknowledge them.

“How’ve you been?”

The deep somber voice, that you can recognize everywhere, had you closing your eyes tightly, cursing him for being so comfortable when you can’t even trust your own voice at the moment.

Clearly unaware of how he wipes his palms in his jeans.

“I didn’t see you for a while.  Could’ve used your help in my previous mission.” He chuckles.

You play with your watch, eyes following every tick and tock of the long hand.

Eren heaves a heavy sigh, you almost glance at him.

“I missed you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek.  Closing your eyes when he stands in front of you.

“Y/N.”

Your eyes slowly flutter open upon hearing him call out to you so fondly but still you refused to look at him.

“I’m begging you, talk to me.”  He pleads, voice wounded.

That caught your attention.

“What would it take for you to forgive me?”  he asks softly, reaching for your hand.

You turn to look at him, your eyes void of emotion. Lips sealed shut.

Eren feels defeated.

He tightens his hold on your hand, his thumb caressing, feeling your warmth, missing the feeling of having his skin pressed on yours.

You wait for him to say more, but he is quiet. Your brow twitches when he lowers himself until his pants gets soiled with the dirt, until his knees ache with the rough unevenness of the park grounds, until he is looking up at you.

“Come back to me.”

Eren guides your hand to his face, kissing your palms, feeling your steady pulse against his soft lips.  Reminding him of your presence, grounding him.

His warm breath ghosts on your palm, tickling you. His nose grazes your skin, following a delicate vein.

You blink the tears away when he comes to rest his head on your lap, still kneeling.  

Pushing him away is not possible for you at the moment. It baffles you, the intimacy and the fact that a man of his stature is on his knees just for you.  

He looks up when you cup his cheeks, giving him a soft smile.  You can’t bear to see such broken look in his eyes any longer.  

“I might regret this tomorrow but.”  You place a gentle kiss on his lips.  “I forgive you.”

He rises to his feet, pulling you up to kiss you better.

He will see to it that you won’t.

You give an endearing protest when he runs his fingers on your neck, tickling you.  He smiles through it before pulling you closer by your nape.

None of you let go until you are completely out of breath.

Slowly, you pull away to meet his eyes.  The amount of emotion they hold makes your heart pound.

Eren pecks your lips and presses his forehead against yours.

“I think, I might have fallen in love with you.” He chuckles.

“Yes, I can see that.”  You smile as you play with his hair.  “I may or may not have fallen in love with you too.”

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #eren jaeger x y/n #Eren Jaeger #attack on titan #AoT #spy x reader #spy x thief

[im-clapped-af]

Black widow chapter 2

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48165961/chapters/121511806#workskin - if you would like to read my oneshots on AO3 here is the link!

Summary -  You begin a shift at your club when you're approached by a man who seeks your services. You didn't expect him to ask you for something much different.

CW - biting, fingering, riding lap, idk what else to say really

“You never told me your name.”

“Spider-Man 2099.”

You let out a laugh.

“That’s a mouthful.” You imagined what a mouthful of him would feel like.

Beams of light-coloured red shone on the stage as the dimly lit club embraced the late hours. A hushed tranquillity settled upon the scene. The familiar voices of Madonna, Fiona Apple, and Britney Spears played in the background creating a subtle melody that intertwined with the murmurs of conversation from the few regulars and singular bachelor party that had entered the club. The stage, typically vibrant with captivating performances, awaited its turn in silence.

Your fellow dancers dressed elegantly in lingerie, moved gracefully among the few guests, striking conversation with them in hopes of earning a few bucks or at least, a free drink. Their movements, once animated and provocative, now possess a delicate finesse, like a spider before striking its kill. They navigate the space with a gentle allure, captivating the few patrons who observe, their ogling eyes and feral want of sex oozing out of them.

The subdued lighting casts a gentle shadow, accentuating the beauty and allure of the venue. The club exudes an air of intimacy as if the night has woven a subtle bond between the performers and the audience.

Midnight Bliss, a renowned strip club situated a mere twenty-minute drive downtown from your humble abode, became your workplace six years ago, providing just enough earnings to sustain the exorbitant rent of your shabby apartment. Although it wasn’t the destination you had envisioned yourself, it served its purpose for the time being. Your exceptional skills on the pole and undeniable allure ensured a steady flow of income, allowing you to make ends meet.

“Now I want everyone to give a warm welcome to Velvet Vixen!”

You eyed your manager who gave you a wink from the sound booth near the far corner of the club and prepared yourself for the person you became when on stage. You heard Criminal by Fiona Apple started playing, her sultry voice providing a little comfort for when the men would start to tear your clothes off with their imagination only. Soon, you would appease their imagination and they would be greeted with the image they desperately wanted.

You sauntered across the stage, teasing the few men who sat nearby who guarded their money as if it was something that needed to be won. You knew what to do to gain it though. You slid up to the pole and graze a hand down it. You noticed a man tossing a one-dollar note on the stage and his stare on you grew more intense. You rubbed the pole a few more times and winked at the man, his face flushed a deep crimson red. He tossed another dollar onto the stage. Your eyes, smouldered with confidence, connected with the other enthralled spectators. Each subtle gesture and deliberate step accentuated your allure, commanding attention and inviting desire.

As the music swelled, you began to teasingly lift the black babydoll dress which was laced with red ribbon. You lifted it up enough to flash the black thong you wore underneath but lowered it quickly when you noticed no dollars had been thrown onto the stage. You eyed the man closest to you, sending him a seductive wink and he tossed another dollar on the stage. Finally, you obliged their wishes and pulled the dress off and threw it on the stage. A few men whooped, earning them a sly smirk from you.

You stood in the black bra and thong you had specially chosen to wear and grazed your hand against the pole again. It would be a few more minutes before you would shed them, and it gave you the opportunity to earn a few more dollars for the performance. You twirled around the pole slowly, allowing the men to glimpse at your enticing form, skilfully tantalising the audience. With every twist, arch, and fluid motion, you wove a mesmerising narrative and evoked the feeling of lust and desire in everyone watching. Your body was an art form in motion, it told a story of liberation, empowerment, and unapologetic self-expression. The room reverberated with electric energy, a shared experience of enchantment and delight.

You reached an arm around your back and gripped the bra clasp and felt it come undone and pulled it away, revealing your breasts. More notes littered the stage, and you were becoming quite happy with the amount you were racking up. You bent over to pick one up, making sure the guarded man had a full view of your ass in his face. He wore a suit that you knew had been tailored in the more affluent part of the city and his watch clearly highlighted the wealth he owned. You turned around and gave him a few slow blinks and leaned closer to his face. He flushed more, and you knew the effect you were having on him. You leaned closer to his face, your lips faintly brushing his ear.

“I’m going to need a little more, motivation, if you want to see the full thing.”

You leaned back, resting your weight on your thighs which were tucked underneath yourself. You watched him shuffle in his seat, uncertain over how much he should give you. You leaned back slightly, resting your palms against the cold stage and shook your hair slightly so it fell away from where it covered your breasts. He flushed more. If any more blood went to his face, you thought he would faint soon. You didn’t want to be dealing with that again.

You eyed him as he moved his hands to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He pulled out a crisp note and tossed it onto the stage. The $50 sign excited you; it wasn’t a note you would receive often on quiet nights, so you decided now was the time to indulge their most desired wants.

You gave him your most thankful smiles and rose slowly. You leaned over so the man could take full pleasure in the sight you were going to grant him. Your thumbs slipped into the thong band and sensually pulled down your body. The men in the room cheered and gave out a few vulgar shouts which you chose to ignore. You manoeuvred your long legs out of the garment and held it high up in the air, like a trophy that one of the lucky men could win. You were left in only your black heels. Weirdly, you felt more naked wearing only them than when you were actually naked.

The music quietened as you heard your manager’s voice fill the club again.

“Now that was Velvet Vixen. Isn’t she a delight? If you want to see her again soon, I suggest you empty your pockets a little more and show her how much you enjoyed that tantalising performance she just gave you.”

You gave a teasing smile, acting shy as a few men threw a few more notes on the stage. Once it was clear their generosity had reached the max, you bent over and picked up your clothes and scooped up the notes from the stage and made your way back to your dressing room. You filtered through the notes and noticed one that had been folded up. You peeled it open and read it quickly. It was a fake one that told you should renounce her life to Christ. You crumpled it up and tossed it in the metal basket next to your makeup station.

Pricks, you thought.

You stood at your station, not caring that the other girls in the room saw you standing there naked. The feeling was mutual, there wasn’t room to feel bothered about nudity in this industry. After recounting the bills, you deposited them in a jar, aside from a twenty-dollar bill and placed it in your locker. You had only made $63 for the performance which wasn’t too bad for a quiet Tuesday night.

Your manager entered the room, not bothered by the fact he was supposed to only approach you when you were in the main room of the club dressed in your stripper attire. He approached you, clasping your hand and gazing into your eyes. You knew the look he gave you wasn’t lustful, the only thing he lusted after was money.

“Vixen that was a great performance, if you keep it up, I can pull a few strings and get you a few extra performances this weekend.” He had moved his hands, so they were holding your shoulders. “Now, there is a man in the private room, you know the one, and he’s requested you personally.”

You knew which room it was all the girls did. It was the only room in the club that didn’t have working CCTV. They had been promised it would be fixed soon but after a few months, you all knew that wasn’t going to happen. After your manager realised, he could gain a lot more money in that room compared to the other private ones, he hadn’t bothered calling an electrician to fix it.

“I need you to do what you always do; you are the favourite after all.” He smirked at you slyly, and you could feel the bile rise in your throat as to what he would put you and your girls under just to gain more money and a reputation for being one of the few strip clubs where men could gather a more, intimate, experience.

You felt him move his hands back down to your hand and twisted them, so your palms were facing upwards revealing the twenty-dollar bill. He plucked it out of your hand and pocketed it, before moving past you and slapping your ass as encouragement.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance and moved over to the screen where you had placed your next outfit. You clasped the low-cut lavender bra around your body which accentuated your curves. It was adorned with intricate lace details and plastic diamonds which you had added yourself to create more flare. You pulled on the lavender panties which you had added fake diamonds to as well, to cover your intimate areas. You added sheer sparkly stockings and pulled on the silver stilettoes that no doubt would make your feet ache for the next few days. The last item you added was a band of fake diamonds that had strings of clear jewels attached to it that you clasped around the band of your bra. The attire was of your own making, and you were eager to wear it in the club, enjoying how the strings of jewels swished around your body as you moved.

You rushed over to your station. The trick to the private rooms was to make them wait on their own for four minutes so they would buy more drinks. You were approaching the three-minute mark, so you had little time to change your makeup. Quickly, you applied a fresh layer of gloss to your lips and tucked your hair under a short purple wig. It was not the finest craftmanship of your face, but it would have to do.

You made your way down the dimly lit hallway. You passed a few rooms that had open doors where you spotted your friends dance over the men as they let their hands wander their forms. The private room was at the end of the hallway, the door closed, and you heard the music playing quietly inside. You took a deep breath before entering the room and closing it softly behind you.

Typically, the men who entered the club were ones you would never pay attention to. They weren’t that attractive and their desperation to see the naked forms of the dancers repulsed you even more. However, the man that sat in the booth was undeniably an attractive one. He sat with his legs spread wide and outstretched and his arms crossed behind him. Despite his relaxed appearance, you could tell this wasn’t his scene, it was most likely his first time entering a strip club. You paid attention to the way his eyes stared into yours, and not your body.

He removed his arms from behind his head and rested them on his toned thighs and he leaned forward slightly.

“Hello, Black Widow. I’ve been searching for you.” He spoke. His voice was calm and held no hint of any lust he may have.

You felt your heart thump strongly in your chest, and you were grateful for the music playing which could conceal it. No one knew of your alias. You had adopted the name twelve years ago at the age of fifteen when you had been bitten by a spider which had transformed your DNA. The name became fitting once you realised you possessed a power that aided you in your mission.

Not wanting him to sense your nerves, you gave a sly smile at him.

“I’m afraid I don’t know your name so I can’t greet you. Now, it's $10 for a dance, $20 for you to touch me while I dance.” You watched him as he raised an eyebrow. “$100 for me to indulge your every last whim.” His expression didn’t change which you didn’t like. You raised a leg and let your heeled foot land on the table, giving him a view to gaze over your form.

You stared at him, challenging him to look at your body instead of your face. He didn’t look away from you.

“I’m here because I need you –“

“Everyone is here because they need me.” You quickly interrupted. “That’s what this room is for. Now what are you going to pay so I can begin my service? There are plenty of men out there who would die to be in your position.”

He gave a low sigh.

“Let me rephrase. I know who you are, and you know that you can’t trick me into thinking I don’t know who you are.”

You removed your leg from the table giving him a sly giggle. You moved over towards the end of the booth and crawled onto it. He turned his head to face you, but his body stayed relaxed in the same position as before. You could feel yourself becoming more annoyed by his behaviour and you made it your aim to make him break.

“Black Widow is definitely an admirable woman, and I feel honoured for you to think of me as her. But I’m afraid you have the wrong woman.”

“How do you know she is a woman?” He quipped.

You leaned forward resting your weight on your forearms and raised your back end, welcoming him to gaze at it. His eyes stayed trained on your face.

“Because only a woman would do what she does. And I thank her for it.”

He leaned back against the booth again. “Ah yes, someone who goes out fighting crime and bringing justice to those who have been wronged. That could be anyone. But the thing that makes her unique, is what she does at night. She goes into the homes of men, rich men who think they own anything money can buy, especially women like you and the services you’re forced to give.”

You stayed silent as he continued.

“It doesn’t take a genius to deduce that someone from your industry would want to take matters into their own hands. We know the police ignore vulnerable communities; one you are part of.”

“Well, anyone could have guessed the first part. But she poisons them. You would need to have an expert understanding of chemistry to poison the men the way she does. I’ve read the newspapers; I know how they’re unable to track her down and they don’t know how she does it. I graduated high school and quickly found my way here, I didn’t have time nor could afford college, so I don’t have a degree in chemistry. So, explain to me how I could compete with her genius.”

He smirked at you. “Well, anyone could have guessed that.” He mimicked you, and the annoyance in you built. “The clue is in the name, Black Widow. She makes her way into their homes, and despite being afraid of this intrusion, they quickly become seduced by her. She does a dance, and they think they’re going to get more than they bargained for. And using the opportunity they are completely under her spell, she strikes. She bites them and injects venom into their veins which they quickly succumb to. Does that sound about right?”

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” You flash your fangs at him. It was clear you couldn’t outsmart him and hearing the way he talked about you filled you with pride.

His gaze on you grew intense as he took in the sight of your fangs. “I’m partial to my own.” He offered a broad grin and flashed his own fangs. You rolled your eyes, earning a low chuckle from him. You rose from your position. You stood and slowly walked over to the other side of the booth, making sure your arse grazed his face. It never did because he leaned his face away to avoid contact.

He was being respectful, an act that wasn’t normal in the club. Since he had easily deducted who you were and how you committed your acts, you wanted to tease him more to see if his act would falter. Once you were situated at the other side of the booth, you sat down and stretched out your legs, so you were in the splits but made sure your clothed cunt was on full display to him. Normally, men would cum themselves right there, but this man had no reaction.

“It’s not polite to not tell a lady your name you know?”

“Well, you’re not a lady, are you?” You were taken aback by his response and gave a small laugh. However, you enjoyed it. You let your gaze wander over his form. He was wearing black trousers and a black form-fitting shirt, which hugged his toned muscles greatly. You eyed his arms and how the veins protruded down them. His dark brown hair was pulled away from his face messily, allowing you to stare at the chiselled jaw and high cheekbones. His eyes were red, giving him the look of a feral animal. You imagined that it would intimidate others just how animalistic he looked, but you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. Your eyes lingered down to his plumb lips, admiring them, and wondered how they would feel against your own. Which lips they could be against; you did not mind.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He ordered.

“I’m simply admiring my next possible target.”

He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I promise you; I won’t touch you or ask you to do anything. Now, please, I need you to listen to me.”

You leaned back on your arms, placing emphasis on how wide your legs were and what was proudly on display to him. You could feel a small ache there after thinking about where his lips could be on you and what they could do.

“Maybe I don’t want to listen to you.”

“I’ve gathered that.”

Sensing that this position wasn’t going to make him break, you closed your legs and you noticed how his eyes quickly glanced down to where you had displayed yourself. It was working. You stood up and made your way over to him and lowered yourself down on his lap. He pulled his hands away from your body and placed them behind his head again and leaned back.

“Whatever you’re trying to do, I won’t play into it.”

“That’s a shame, this is the most fun I’ve ever had in this room.” His gaze softened after you said that, but you didn’t allow him to speak. “I know you know there is no working CCTV in this room. Why else would you ask to be in this room? You must be desperate for me for you to pay the fee, it’s pretty hefty.”

You let your hands trail over his mouth and pushed his top lip up. His fangs protruded and you ran a finger over them. You raised yourself so your face was level with his and you inched your mouth closer to his.

“Are these capable of doing what I can?” You asked.

He moved your hands gently away from his face and placed them down to your side but didn’t let go.

“Yes, though not as lethal as yours. Anything else you want to ask me?”

You smirked again. “Yes, is it $10, $20, or $100?” He groaned in response, and you lifted yourself up off him and moved back to where you had been in the booth previously.

“I don’t want anything like that. I just need you to listen to me.” He leaned towards you, but you stretched a leg out, placing your heeled foot against his chest. He didn’t move and challenged your gaze.

“I think I’ve listened quite intently so far. You haven’t listened to me. Now, what will you be paying? My manager won’t be happy if I come out empty-handed.” You watched him carefully as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a $10 bill. You expected him to toss it at you and you would comply with the demand, but instead, he held it out waiting for you to take it. You reached out and grabbed it and tucked it into your bra strap. You lowered your leg, and he leaned back against the wall again.

“I’m not going to be treated like charity. You’ve paid me, now, what do you want me to do?”

He sighed in annoyance, and you could see irritation flash in his eyes.

“I want you to listen to what I’m about to tell you.”

“You know what request I’m after so ask and then, only then, will I listen.”

You watched as he tried to find a solution in his mind before he finally gave in. He looked at you, an ordering look in his eyes and gazed down at your legs.

“Show me.”

You smiled in response and spread your legs out again before trailing your hand slowly down to where you remained clothed. You felt that dampness that had started pooling there from where your mind had gone places that you knew that the man would not want to hear. You hooked a finger against the cloth and pulled it away, letting the air of the club hit you.

You admired the way his gaze instantly went to what he wanted to see, what you wanted him to see. His jaw went slack, and you could hear him try to breathe quietly. It must have been a while since he last had sex because there was no other reason for his reaction. You trailed your free hand over yourself and felt the wetness that was pooling there. You ran a finger up your folds and grazed it over your clit once and you wanted to hiss at the pleasure that came from it. Quickly, you covered yourself again and the man came to his senses.

“Ok, I asked you to show me. Now you need to listen to what I tell you.”

You stood up as he began rambling about a society, he was a part of and how he needed you to join them. Your unique power would be extremely helpful to their cause and they needed all the spiders they could have. He talked about the thousands of dimensions and the spiders that had joined them, but the numbers weren’t enough. As much as the information he was providing was interesting, the way his gaze followed the way your body moved around the room was far more interesting. You moved back towards him and turned your body, so you was facing away from him and lowered yourself back on his lap. He didn’t stop talking, even when you raised an arm and wrapped it behind his neck.

You interrupted before he could continue. “So, what you’re telling me is that there are multiple people just like us, but you desperately need me?”

“I need as many people as I can to help maintain the canon event.”

“But you need me specifically?”

He groaned in annoyance. “Yes, I need you specifically. Your skill is essential for us maintaining that we keep villains in their own dimension. I can discuss this in greater detail at the HQ if you would just come with me.”

You craned your neck so you could look at his face. His eyes were tightly closed, and his breathing was quick. “You want me to come with you? You only need to ask.” You moved your hips on top of him slowly and revelled in this way his breathing hitched slightly. You could feel him harden under you. The dull ache in you grew stronger and you were enjoying how this session was going. You grazed your fingers against his face and his eyes shot open with a feral look. He placed his hands firmly against your waist holding your moving hips still.

“I’m not going to take advantage of you. I know you’re only doing this because you need the money.”

“I’m not doing this for the money. I’m doing this because I want to. I think you want to as well.”

His grip softened and you continued grinding your hips on top of him. He didn’t try stopping you now and his eyes closed again. He groaned lowly and bared his neck in your direction. You took the opportunity and placed your mouth on his neck and started kissing it. His breathing grew more erratic, and his bulge grew harder. You positioned yourself so it would dig into you and your movements grew faster. You nibbled his neck, careful to not let your fangs pierce the soft brown flesh. His hands glided up and down your torso, encouraging you to continue. You removed your mouth from his neck and leaned your head backwards, so it was resting flat against his shoulder. He looked over to you and you stared into each other’s eyes.

“You never told me your name.”

“Spider-Man 2099.”

You let out a laugh.

“That’s a mouthful.” You imagined what a mouthful of him would feel like. The ache inside of you intensified and you ground your hips on him harder. Both of your breathing grew heavier as you both let pleasure overtake you. His hand grazed up your back and you could feel him fumble with the clasp of your bra. He unleashed it and threw your bra to the floor and took a handful of your breast in his hands. He kneaded it and you let out a low moan. His mouth moved to your neck and he copied what you had done earlier. His plump lips littered your neck with kisses and he sucked harshly. He pulled away and saw a dark bruise start forming before he went back eagerly to continue what he was doing. You could feel the sharpness of his fangs graze your neck.

“Do it.”

He understood what you meant and obliged your ask. You felt a sharp pain as his fangs sink into your neck but it was quickly replaced by pleasure. He kneaded your breast more firmly but you held his hand and moved it down to your cunt, desperate to feel his fingers there. His fingers traced the band of your panties before moving them underneath the cloth. His fingers stirred circles over your clit and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. He continued to draw circles over it and a few groans escaped his lips as well as you rubbed yourself over his hard member.

“I only came here to ask you to join us –“His voice hitched higher as you placed a hand over his encouraging him to move it lower. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I don’t care just keep going.” You rasped against him. He plunged a finger into your aching hole and a loud gasp filled the room, from who, neither of you could remember. Quickly, he inserted another digit into you, and he felt your walls tighten against him. You squirmed against him. Your moans filled the room, and you were grateful for the music covering it so the guests outside couldn’t hear. A dark spot grew on his trousers, from his pre-cum and your own wetness.

“Another.” You asked him. He obliged and plunged a third finger into you and you moaned hard into his hard. You writhed on top of him as he pumped his fingers into you. You could feel your climax bubbling inside of you and he was clearly close as well with how his breathing became even more erratic. You climaxed over his fingers with a loud moan and your walls tightened over his fingers even more. You kept grinding on top of him and he heaved loudly as you saw cum seep through his trousers. You both sat there, taking in the waves of pleasure that rolled through your bodies. After a while, he removed his fingers from you and you stood up and cleaned yourself up. You noticed him stick his fingers in his mouth and suck them clean, hiding evidence of what he just did to you.

You nodded to his lap where his cum pooled on his trousers.

“Sorry about the mess.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He stood up and wiped it away with the back of his hand. It removed most of the mess but a stain would form soon and he would need to change them soon if he didn’t want anyone to know what had happened. They were both grateful for the dimness of the room.

“Will you consider what I’ve said?”

You gave him a nod and watched as he tried pulling out his wallet, but you raised a hand to stop him.

“I don’t want your money.” He didn’t argue and placed his wallet back into his pocket. You didn’t exchange any more words and she watched as he left the room. You tidied yourself up a bit more and readjusted your wig after clasping your bra back on. When you left the room you were greeted by your manager with an eager grin.

“You two were in there for a while. How much did you make?”

You slapped the ten-dollar bill into his hands and walked off before mentioning, “He only wanted to talk.”

A few hours later, you climbed through your open window from your fire escape. You went to your bathroom and peeled off the black mask and looked into the mirror at yourself. Your target had put up a fight, evident by the purple bruise forming on your cheek. Your mouth was bloody from where you had bit him and he quickly died from the venom that entered his bloodstream. You turned on the shower and peeled off your suit as the room filled with steam. You stood for a while, letting the hot water soothe your muscles before eventually getting out. You wrapped yourself in a towel and ventured to the kitchen in desperate need of sustenance. On the way there you noticed a piece of paper on the kitchen counter and opened it. In it lay $130.

Black Widow

Rent money. I’ll see you tomorrow for you to tell me what you have decided.

Miguel O’Hara

#across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #spiderman astv #spiderman #spiderman 2099 #spider verse #into the spider verse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman x reader #miguel o'hara smut

[violettduchess]

Hi! I'm so happy to see you are participating! May I please request Leon with prompt #5? Thank you! <3

A/N: This combines two of the requests for Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore. This Leon prompt was also requested by @joiedecombat. Clavis request was anon!

Leon- scarf sharing, Clavis- ice skating

One of the last bits of fluff before the angst!

Word Count: 1456

Leon- Scarf Sharing

The door to the bedroom opens in what can only be called triumph as Leon strides in on his long legs, holding a present wrapped in forest green paper and tied with a perfect golden bow. The wide grin on his face tells you exactly what this must be. 

Setting aside your book, you slide to the edge of the bed where he joins you, sitting himself down with an air of child-like excitement. “Leon! You found it!” During the smaller, more private exchange of presents at Christmas, Leon had been stricken by the fact that one present for you had seemingly disappeared into thin air. He had showered you with many other wonderful things, but this had bothered him enough to have the whole palace searched for days until, now, finally, it seems the mystery present returned from wherever it had journeyed to.

“Yves found it. What it was doing in the pantry, I have no idea.” You had an idea and it is golden-eyed and lavender-haired with a no-good grin that screams trouble. Clavis hiding presents in odd places would make perfect sense. Any excuse to cause some fanciful trouble.

“Well”, you say as you lean over, kissing his cheek, “I can’t wait to see it!” He hands it over, grinning boyishly. “Just rip it,” he mutters as you carefully untie the bow. “No,” you chide him gently, “we can use the paper and bow again.” He sighs, muttering something about how he is a prince and you are his love and he can get you paper and ribbons any time. You ignore him because it is the principle of the matter. Some people are paper-rippers and others are correct.

The perfectly intact paper and golden ribbon are set carefully aside, leaving you with a chocolate brown box which you open with eager hands and then gasp in delight. Nestled inside is a scarf of the deepest cranberry red, shot through with threads of bright gold. “Oh Leon….” Joy brings a hush to your voice as you touch the material gently. It feels the way you imagine a cloud would, soft and fluffy and immediately wonderful.

“I found it at a stand at the Christmas Market the day I went with Jin and Yves. This sweet little old woman was selling them. I saw it in its box and bought it right then and there.” That is the Leon you love, all heart and spontaneity. You reach inside to take the scarf out. 

You pull….and pull….and pull….and pull….what? Both his and your eyes widen as you realize just how long the scarf is. When you finally have it all in your lap, it spills over both sides, a soft cloud of red and gold. A really, really big, soft cloud. Leon looks crestfallen as he realizes that you can probably wrap the whole thing around your entire body, not just your neck.

“No, it's ok, love. Don’t be sad. I have an idea.” You stand, offering him your hand. “Come with me.”

It’s a cold, clear winter night. The stars shine like extravagant diamonds against the black velvet sky. The sliver of moon is white and pale as bone, allowing the stars their moment to glow. You and Leon are snuggled together on the palatial terrace under a heavy blanket, your necks and shoulders warmed by your enormous, incredibly warm, red and gold scarf. A stone fire pit bathes you both in heat and gentle orange light. “See? Perfect for star-gazing together.” He turns to look at you, eyes bright with admiration for your optimism. “Perfect,” he murmurs in that deep voice you love so much. “Just perfect.”

Clavis-ice skating

You’re reading a book about the far-off Tourmaline kingdom, drinking in the beautiful illustrations of their traditions and customs. You’re particularly engrossed in a description of winter activities when the sofa suddenly dips due to someone throwing himself despondently onto it. “You don’t even notice me anymore. How could you miss a sight such as this entering a room?”

With a sigh you reach out to ruffle his soft, twilight hair, your touch gentle but playful. He pretends to fix it but in truth, any touch of yours is one he treasures. He reaches up, capturing your hand and then holds it captive against his heart. “What has you so entranced, my dear?” You show him the book and the illustrations of people gliding across a frozen lake with blades on their boots. “This looks like such fun!”

He tilts his head, his thumb absently running over the back of the hand he is still holding tightly against his chest. “Would you like to try it?” His tone is forcibly casual, as if it's no big deal but he also gets the reaction he was fervently hoping for. The book almost falls to the floor as you shift to face him, eyes suddenly bright with excitement. “You’ve done this before?” He shrugs one shoulder, but his lips are curved into a wide grin. “Who hasn’t?” The way your smile radiates joy sends his heart into a tailspin. Ducking his head, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand to hide the effect you’re having on him. “Let me make some arrangements….”

Those fateful words ring in your ears several days later as Clavis kneels in the snow, helping secure the ice blades to your sturdiest boots. He checks the straps several times before rising, offering you his arm as he helps you from the bench down the gentle slope to the edge of the frozen lake. There is no one else around as Clavis assured the other princes you would not want to be seen, slipping and falling in front of them and he would do anything to preserve your dignity. 

“Now just ease your way forward. I’ll attach mine and join you in a moment.” One skate touches the ice and immediately you slide forward, nearly pinwheeling away from him. His strong grip holds you in place, his laughter soft. “Hold on a moment dearie. Don’t go running away from me yet.” Once you have your balance, he lets go and moves toward the bench to attach his own blades. You breathe in the crisp air. Your leg muscles are tense and you will yourself to relax. You have always been good at walking on logs and complicated dance steps, both things that require a sense of body and balance. Tentatively you push forward. You are shaky and you are damned slow but you are moving forward. Your body adapts to the movement and after only a few moments of trembling legs and flapping arms, you manage to glide very, very slowly around half of the small body of frozen water.

Clavis applauds you from the lake's edge, his smile brighter than the winter sunlight. “Look at you go!” Pride fills you as you continue your sluggish, but steady progress. “Come on!” You aren’t brave enough to lift an arm to wave yet but you hope your tone conveys your excitement at trying this together.

Your love nods once and confidently steps out onto the frozen lake…..and promptly falls on his princely rear with a yelp. “Clavis!!” You want to turn to help him but if you do it too quickly you’ll end up flat on the ice with him. “Wait, I’m coming.” You move with the speed of an arthritic snail toward where he is trying to rise again with a body that suddenly appears to be made of gelatin as he flops back down onto the ice. “I’m almost there!” You’re still mostly across the lake. Oh dear.

What feels like hours later, you are holding him in your arms, both of you sprawled in the snow at the edge of the lake. His face is buried in your shoulder, red from exertion and embarrassment. “I asked if you had done this before and you said who hasn’t!” You can't help the curling warmth of amusement lacing your chastisement. “I never specified if I was one of the ones who had.” His voice is muffled by your coat and scarf and despite the wet and the cold, you find yourself laughing, a sound that almost soothes the throbbing pain in certain parts of his body that became very well acquainted with hard ice.

You reach out with your gloved hand, pushing back his hair. “How about we take these awful things off and go back to the palace for a hot bath?” He tilts his head up slightly so you can see one golden eye and the wicked flame of suggestion in it. “Together?” You sigh, stroking his hair. “Sure. Together.”

He lifts his head entirely now, injuries seemingly forgotten. “Well what are we waiting for?!” He pushes himself up, wincing and you can only shake your head at the sudden burst of motivation. Ah, Clavis.

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri leon #ikepri clavis #leon dompteur #clavis lelouch #tis the season for love content creation challenge #winter fluff #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen fanfic #otome fanfic #violettwrites

[princess-of-the-corner]

Are there enough distinct Chloe's to do an intresting Spiderverse like event yet? HC, LL, Forged, Phantom, and Bat are there any Chloe important AU's I've missed.

I mean there's various different Chloé's from different ML-Specific AUs. (Obvs Honeybee and Lady Luck but also The Duchess Noire AU(s), Vixen from 'Childhood Friends', Nightmare from 'Double Trouble', Monarch from 'Red Velvet', Alchemy from that one fic where she and Kagami swapped. Probably some I'm forgetting).

And then yeah Forged and the crossovers like Phantom and Bat. I'd count QSC!Chloé too.

Then there's ones that take place in full alternate universes like the Persona AU, the ATLA Au, the Monster AU.

I have a lot of 'let's spitball ideas for AUs.

[krys-loves-otome]

'Tis the Season for Love CCC: Fake Christmas Date

It was only supposed to last for one hour. Long enough for her to mingle at the Royal Christmas Ball, to quell any rumors about the King's death and about her being the next Belle, and short enough that it wouldn't be considered rude if she just suddenly up and left. To return to the comfort of her books as Rio made some peppermint tea while the night came to a quiet, uneventful close.

Three hours later and she was just about ready to tear both her own hair out and Nokto's.

If she wasn't been stared at for being a fresh face amongst the nobles, she was being stared at with a stink eye for whose arm was resting in hers.

To be a woman on Prince Nokto's arm, Seventh Prince of Rhodolite and known Lothario, carried with it a meaning. A meaning Clara was coming to find she didn't like. Not very much at all.

"Smile," Nokto whispered, his own grin tugging uneasily at his lips. He wasn't too thrilled about smiling this much either. "Just for a little while longer."

Whether that was meant for her or for himself, Clara wasn't sure. The red velvet of her dress crinkled as she stood taller, facing the next noble coming towards the two of them, plastering her own smile to match the prince.

-------

Another challenge down, who knows how many more to go!

This one, when I saw the prompt, I immediately thought of Nokto and Clara, especially with his fake married plot and whatnot.

Clara's dress was inspired by the Beauty and the Beast Christmas sequel where Belle wears a red dress in the end and I took inspiration from that.

As for Nokto's outfit, it's really a time period match for Clara's 1700s-ish inspired dress and I took his formal wear colors. He's wearing a red ribbon to match Clara's dress while her trimmings and edgings are the same blue as his coat. Not completely matching each other, but just enough to show that feelings might be starting to blossom(?),

Thanks again to @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore for hosting the event and I hope to see y'all in the next entry!

#’tis the season for love #’tis the season for love content creation challenge #krys's adventures in art #ikemen prince #nokto klein #ikepri oc #clara laurent (oc) #ikepri doesn't have a set 'fantasy' or 'historical' setting #have heard medieval #but my brain just went #use Belle's red dress and make Nokt's cloths 18th century #but shouldn't it be christmas theme #Belle wore the red dress in a christmas special it counts #I also added roses to Clara's dress because Rhodolite is known for it's roses after all #should have done the same with Nokt #he is a rose prince after all #lol

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 4 ~ Kinslayer

"Katrina. You are here." Kratos's rough voice noted, as soon as he entered his large chambers, on Mount Olympus. Upon his bed, he saw a cascade of crimson velvet and petals sprawled all over the silk sheets, and her green tunic was twisted around her slender body, proof that she must have shifted and rolled around the bed for a while, in his absence, restless as she was reading some kind of manuscript. As soon as she heard his voice, she turned her head to the side lazily, only to put the book aside, and crawl to the edge of the bed, waiting expectantly, yet with a cute, kitten smile on her face. "Welcome back, my love. I pray your day went well." as soon as he heard her honeyed voice, Kratos could feel all his worries disappear, so he sat next to her, pulling her on his lap, so she could work her magic on him. "It was fine." he muttered, closing his eyes and feeling those soft hands cupping his face - Though she was unable to erase the visions or the nightmares plaguing him, her magic was allowing her to create a sense of serenity to those she was touching - And for Kratos, that was the difference between losing himself in his madness, and carrying on. "What were you reading?" "I found an old manuscript of Sappho's, filled with poems that she had not the time to publish, for she was taken away from this world. Must I say, I have always been a great lover of her art, yet this one, is truly touching." the red haired woman explained, reaching out for the book, playfully hiding herself from the man with it. "It was truly lovely, being able to contribute to her academy, where she taught young women all sorts of things, especially when it came to art... Though, I must say, I was a little jealous - She truly loved Aphrodite and Eros. A lot." she giggled softly, hearing the man grunt. "What is it, Kratos? Do not tell me you are... Envious, of a woman who loves another? Or is it because it is Aphrodite, she loved?" she continued teasing him, only to feel herself being rolled on her back, on the bed, with the man towering over her. Once again, the Goddess used the book to hide her face and her smile.  "What are you playing at, you vixen?" gently, he grabbed her wrists and pulled them away, revealing that light blush and the enchanting timid grin she was wearing. "I am doing nothing of the sort, my darling. I just felt you were feeling unusually stressed and hoped I might be able to take your mind off your problems, for a little while." she explained, reaching out her arms around his body and pulling him down on the bed, next to her. "What is it that ails you so, my love?"

Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta, had taken his place amongst the Olympians as the God of War. The bloodshed, the relentless battles - They had finally brought him here. With Ares dead, and Olympus beckoned, yet the visions of his mortal existence still haunted him, even with aid from the Goddess with whom he was sharing a bed with for so long. Visions, nightmares of his old life, of himself and Deimos sparring together, of his mother calling out his name - They hit him like a whip - And he knew that this time, they were not just mere visions, results of his failures... For with the Gods, nothing was ever as it seemed, and though he still had much to learn in dealing with their riddles and twisted meanings, he had genuine help. 

"I... I had visions... Of my mother. She asked me to help her." the man explained, evidently troubled. "Then let us me on our way and aid her." the woman immediately said, getting in a sitting position. "Why are you not questioning the validity of this vision?" the man frowned, confused at her eagerness. "For you have never had this vision before. One thing is to have visions of the past, and another, to have one calling out for you so directly." she explained with ease. "Not to mention... I have a... Feeling... That whatever reason she called you for, it must be related to your brother." for the first time in ages, Kratos was reminded of the first tragedy and failure that he had to witness. "Deimos? What about him? He is dead." agitated, Kratos jumped to his feet in a flash and started pacing around. "I am not entirely sure, actually. In theory, he should be. It would make sense. He was taken for a reason, after all. With all that considered, however... Ever since the night he was taken away, I could not help but have this feeling of... Hope? Something that kept my mind thinking that there was still a ray of chance that he may be saved, one way or another." the woman speaking for the first time of this event truly surprised the Spartan, who turned and fixated his gaze upon her. "You have never spoken of this before. Is it related to the prophecies you kept mentioning before?" by the way she hung her head, he could see the guilt and shame overflowing from her heart. "Kratos... Do you remember that night? Do you know why Ares took Deimos, in the first place?" the woman asked, and for the first time in a while, the Spartan took some time to voluntarily recall the awful memories from his past. "I... Remember how Ares took him... And how he destroyed the village. And I remember you, saving me from underneath that house, and how you stood up to him. I still cannot tell why he was taken." it was obvious how he was struggling to remember, and failing, for he was just a child. "Are you emotionally and mentally ready to find out the reason behind that night?" from the look of remorse in her gleaming eyes, he realised the gravity of the situation - O, how a good day begins, with laughter and joy, and ends with mourning and weeping. "No. But I have to know. I have been left in the dark and wronged by the Gods for far too long. I have a right to know." without meaning to, he raised his voice, and only then realised how uncomfortable he made the woman before him - He knows she cannot stand any type of aggressiveness, but he could not yet control the anger within. "Very well. I shall tell you - But you must act with caution, do you understand?" once the warning was heeded with yet another one of his grunts, the Goddess sighed and stood tall, stepping around the room with her feet bare, and flowers and grass blooming wherever she stepped. "When you were a child... There was an Oracle, who foretold the demise of Olympus. Since the beginning, Zeus always feared a Titan rebellion, and thought that would be the end of us - But no. The destruction of Olympus, and with it, the death of Zeus and the Gods that reside here... It was to be brought upon by a mortal... That we know as The Marked Warrior." the Goddess told him the prophecy, and in a low voice, she could hear him ushering the nickname given to the prophesised one. "As you recall... Deimos was born with a distinctive birthmark on his face... Hence why, you also, have dorned one, in his honour. Zeus was afraid, so he sent Ares and Athena down to Sparta, to get rid of that child before it is too late." she continued on briefly. "Athena... Was there too?" his eyes widened with shock - It seemed that he truly recalled so little of that interaction. "Oh, yes, my love - She was there. Zeus only ever truly loved two of his children - Ares, and Athena. All the other ones were cast aside to be cherished by others... Such as myself. You were made to kill Ares because of Zeus picking favourites again, and that made the once favoured Ares to feel... Jealous and undermined... Ha. Imagine all of Zeus's children, trying to go against Olympus for being left in the dark. How foolish." she muttered to herself, out of spite, before regaining her composure. "And how do you know that Deimos is alive, then? Surely, if Zeus was afraid of him, he would have killed him in that instant." Kratos marched in front of the woman and grabbed her shoulders, so as to look her in the eyes and search for the truth. "You see, Kratos... The Marked Warrior had another prophecy told about him... And it is... Rather contradictory, at least for now. Long before you and Deimos were born, the Sisters of Fate spoke of the Marked Warrior as such - That he would become the greatest General that Sparta ever had, and that he will have a beautiful family made out of love. As of now... Neither of these have happened." the truth was clear in her voice, yet somehow, Kratos could feel, she was letting out some details.  "And why were you there, then?" his voice was lower and questioning, yet he still held her face dearly in his hands. "I tried to save him." she spoke in such a pitiful, heartbreaking way, that it shocked the man. "Before he was born, the Marked Warrior was fated to be soulbound to me. The Marked Warrior was my soulmate. My heart felt the moment he was brought into this word... And somehow, in the back of my mind, I can still feel that he is alive. I want to believe that. It is the only thing that keeps me going." he couldn't help but wipe away the stray tears streaming down her cheeks - He could never understand how could one weep over a love that has never taken place, yet the way it looked, she was as distraught as he was, after the loss of Lysandra. "If he is alive, then... Will you help me save him?" the man asked, touching his forehead over hers, and through all the storm brewing in his heart and mind, he could feel peace clearing the fog. "I would do anything for you, Kratos."

With that answer given, the mysterious vision of his past set the two Gods in search of answers - Answers that lay in the temple of Poseidon, deep within the city of Atlantis. Though, as always, Athena's statue was quick to warn the Spartan of the foolish errand on which he was embarking. "This is not a wise course of action, Kratos. It was a dream, nothing more." she claimed, as the two stood in the pouring rain, on the boat sailing away. "The visions still haunt me, Athena. The visions YOU promised to take away... But THIS vision... I can change." the man spoke with strong conviction. "Perhaps it is a vision best left unchanged. There is more to this than either of you know... Please..." but in her anger, Katrina yelled - Or at least, she attempted to - Yell at her sister's statue to quiet down, and thankfully, the statue spoke no more.

Though the journey was, as expected, filled with enemies from under the sea, not even the great Scylla could get in the way of Kratos and his ambition of finding his mother, answers, and ultimately, saving his brother, should he truly be alive still.  Climbing up various structures, the two travelers found themselves by the Temple of Thanatos, the God of Death, a vestige of a long forgotten time, erected before the rule of the Olympians, this temple was not placed here by mortal hands. Within its walls lay a passage to the domain of death - The entrance to a world that no mortal dared enter thus far. 

Walking past, although the Goddess had enough thoughts in her head about this temple, they carried on, going up the elevator to the upper floors of the City of Atlantis, doing far too much swimming of which Katrina was not fond of, especially with the uncomfortable feeling of the rich linen sticking to your skin - Alas, Poseidon's love for water was incomprehensible to a fault.

Seeing the many statues, she remembered stories from after the Great Titan War, when Poseidon took dominion over the Seas and erected a monument fit to his glory - Hence, the birth of the great City of Atlantis -... Though grand, Katrina always thought that the Gods were much too greedy and narcissistic for their own good. Even so, with the Lord as their guardian, the Atlanteans thrived beyond all other societies, and thus, these devout and peaceful citizens stand as a testament to mankind's future. If one could look past all the ego-centrical power movements, you could see the prosperity of this developed city. 

As they ran up a slippery slide, they could see the Temple of Poseidon, in the distance - A monument built by the Atlanteans, to the greatness of their protector and benefactor - The God of the Seas. Once they arrived in front of the door, it spoketh. "Know thyself, and the path shall be revealed." with this in mind, Kratos grabbed the woman's wrist and brought her with him - With such a tricky riddle, he feared that, should they enter separately, they will lose their way, not only from each other, but from their own selves as well.

Once inside this dream-like state, Kratos walked down a familiar path - It was his home, in Sparta, from back when he was still a child. It was the dead of night, and he could see two children sparring. "Come, brave Spartans, the battle is done." the sound of a familiar feminine voice called out vividly, and a silhouette appeared before the two little ones. "Kratos, bring Deimos inside." his mother called out to him, and the two followed inside - Following the dissipating vision inside, they stumbled upon an elderly woman, laying down - She looked gravely ill, and coughing.

"How I have missed you, Kratos." the woman's tired voice called out to him dearly.  "What treachery is this? ... Another trick of the Gods?" he asked, his voice harsh and angry - How much could one's heart take? "No, Kratos, it is no treachery. This is... A real person. Is this... Your mother?" the Goddess kelt before the sickly human, trying to heal her into getting better... But she was cursed, and there was nothing that she could do about it. She might be a healer, but she was definitely no curse-breaker. "Yes, my son... It is me..." upon hearing the confirmation, Kratos fell besides his mother's body and held her in his arms, so carefully that he might have been afraid she would disintegrate before his very eyes. "Your father brought me here. I have waited so long..." she caressed the face of his child dearly, yet her skin was deathly pale, and her hand was skeletal from how she thinned because of the sickness. "We do not have much time, Kratos - Your brother does not have much time." "Deimos...?" talks of his brother, him being brought here - It dawned on him that the reality of his brother being alive was now, more than ever, exactly that - A reality. "He lives... Trapped in torment, deep in Death's Domain." the mother explained, pained and in misery. "But... He's gone. You told me that he was!" Kratos could not believe the words that he was hearing. He could not accept that he was living in a lie, after so long.  "I'm sorry - I had no choice but to lie. You must listen now! The Temple of Ares in Sparta... Holds the secret that will lead to your brother. The road will not be easy... But you must help him! He... Needs you." through coughs and exhaustion, she managed to warn her son, who hung his head in disbelief. "This... This cannot be..." though his voice was soft at first, rage took over him quickly. "Why?! Why would you do this?!" his own mother, lying to him about his own brother's fate.  "Your father forbid me to tell you..." there was fear in her eyes, whenever she mentioned the father. "My father? Who IS my father?!" the man demanded an answer, only for the Goddess to put her hand on his mother's. "You are cursed. Are you... Sure... You are ready?" she could feel that, once she broke her vow, she would die, one way or another. "I have lived a long and pitiful life, under fear and a curse that I dared not break... But my children have suffered for far too long... They deserve to know the truth... They deserve to live their life however they want... And Deimos... Deimos... He must be rescued, at once." the mother squeezed Katrina's hand, and offered a small yet grateful smile. "Please, continue looking after them... I know you always had. I am grateful for everything you have done for them, and will continue to think that-a-way." "Very well. I vow to you, this is an oath that I shalt never break, be it that I lay my life down for them. Of that, you can rest assured." with a kiss on the mother's hand, Katrina stood up and offered the mother and son a few moments alone.

With one last dear look at her beloved child, Callisto rose enough to whisper into Kratos's ear, before falling back down and squirming from extreme pain. Realising what was going on, the Goddess quickly grabbed the man and pulled him behind her. "Look away, Kratos. A child should never have to see his mother dying." she spoke, creating a spear and watching with a closed heart how the once lovely mother transformed into some kind of horrendously malformed monster - Though, as soon as the weapon found its way impaled into her heart, she fell back on the ground, in her human form. "Why... Why did this happen...?" the stupefied man was somehow able to find the strength to speak. "The person who cursed your mother wanted to keep the identity of your father a great secret. If she were to tell you any sooner, the same fate would have befallen her. But now, you are stronger, and you can avenge her, and rescue your brother." it wasn't something easy to tell a child, but it had to be told. Kratos stepped from behind the woman and picked his fallen mother in his arms, for the last time.  "Finally... I am free." though dead, he could see the liberation she felt with it. "Find your brother... Kratos... Go to... Sparta... Find Deimos... He... Needs you."  she managed to utter with her dying breath, but with it, she took another piece of Kratos's heart. "Mother!" he exclaimed, unable to comprehend the shock of seeing his mother dead in his own arms. "What have I done..." "Do not blame yourself, Kratos. It is the fault of the one who cursed you." Katrina hoped her words would set him on the path of revenge and forget the foolish idea of blaming his own guiltless self. After all, with her last breath, she released the weight of her burden, and finally found the peace she had long sought. 

But for Kratos, the rage was almost palpable, watching his mother's body being transformed into a bed of flowers did nothing to erase the anger he felt, having the last of his family being taken away from him by the Gods. Fate had, once again, pushed him to the brink of madness.  Picking up the golden bracelet from the ground, she held onto the man's hand and placed it on his palm, only to see him grunting and looking away, unable to gaze at the last reminder he had of his mother. Though, after careful thinking, he gingerly took the accessory in his hand and held onto the woman's arm, putting it next to her other vine-like golden bracelets. He said nothing, but at least he seemed more content, knowing that a woman he cherished would hold and treasure the last keepsake he had of his mother.

With a squeeze of his hand, Katrina was the first to brave the unknown and guided the man further into the temple, where they found the Eye of Atlantis relic, which gave Kratos the ability to channel the storm in a beam. It perfect for his quest... But, just before they were to leave, the Scylla had other plans, and it dragged the God of War somewhere under the water after he pushed her away from its destructive path, to some active volcano. Things just couldn't get any better, the Goddess thought sarcastically as she thought of say way to get down there effectively. She didn't thrive in the ocean like Poseidon, or near magma, for her flowers would easily melt - But by the time she was done overthinking her strategic move, she saw the Spartan emerging from underneath the water, thrown away into some far away balcony, whilst the volcano itself seemed to have erupted as it started to destroy the great city.

Unable to wrap her mind around whatever it was that was going on, she used her liana to reach the place where Kratos was waiting - Though, upon her last swing, a magma stone melted through one of her vines and she could feel herself free-falling. Thankfully, the man had seen the act, and with his fantastically refined reflexes, he had managed to grab her rope and pulled her up, before engulfing her into his arms and watching briefly the end of Atlantis. The battle with the Scylla had shaken the very foundation of Poseidon's Kingdom. Atlantis was sinking - But that mattered little to the Ghost of Sparta. 

The two made their way through the ruined island of Crete until they found the Temple of Athena, and Kratos could not help himself, and went to yell at the statue of the Goddess that claimed to help him, but lied. "Athena! You lied to me! The Gods lied to me!" he yelled, but the statue was not responding. "My brother lives! HE LIVES!" once again, she completely ignored the Spartan. "ATHENA!!!" nothing. Sighing, and annoyed beyond measure, Katrina took out her weapon, and with a look of approval from the God of War, she destroyed the statue of the lying Goddess. "Forgive me, Kratos, but I have never had much patience for the lies veiled in fake wisdom, as my sister so calls it. If it is manipulation she wants to do, let her hone her skills on others." though, just as magically, the fallen head of the statue started speaking. "Though I do not appreciate my statues being desecrated - Kratos, you must not let your rage blind you. There is much you do not know. be warned, they will all try to stop you." but he did not allow her to finish speaking, as he crushed the stone head with his foot from the rage she was instilling in him. "Let us continue our journey, Kratos. Do not let her words plague your judgement. I know she angered you so, but she is gone now, and we have much to do." once again, mimicking the way he had touched their foreheads together, she did just that, and succeeded in calming down the storm inside his heart, so that they could continue venturing on.

Once they reached the gates of Crete, they realised the full extent of the destruction that had befallen the ones living there. There, they heard a voice - It was broken, as if it had cried for three days and three nights without end - But upon realising where it came from, they saw a soldier, holding one of his fellow brothers in arms... Though it was only the top half, for the bottom one, it was sprawled across the ground with viscera spilling everywhere. Such a gruesome sight... Whoever could have committed such a disgusting crime?

They had angered the Gods, the live one said, as he tried to give the warning to the Ghost of Sparta. They have been spared by 'The Daughter', and that... Death awaits the Ghost. He will never get the Skull... What Skull, though? He died before he could speak any further, but this sight only determined Kratos to continue further in his search for his brother. Traversing through Heraklion until they found the Grave Digger again, making a mockery of Kratos and his hate for the Gods, whilst taunting him about his brother, but Katrina only put her hand on the man's shoulder and pushed him away, not wanting to hear any more foolery about the path they were walking on.

Walking past the statue of two warriors crossing spears, he remembers the good times when he was little and sparring with his brother - Though he always defeated him, he always told him good advice. A Spartan warrior never lets his back hit the ground, he remembers telling his brother. Even in death, a Spartan stands tall for battle. You are a Spartan, are you not?! his voice resounds in his mind, and the look of defeat in his brother's eyes, as he held the point of the spear to his neck, came haunting him once more.  Yes, Kratos, he had said, before Kratos helped him up on his feet... And then, their village was burnt to the ground, and Deimos was taken away. 

They ventured to the Mounts of Aroania, where they saw a winged woman, inquiring a man about the whereabouts of the Ghost of Sparta, only to kill him upon realising his lack of knowledge... But as they reached the dying man, Kratos realised, he was a Spartan warrior, and he granted his blessings before death. This treacherous pass, Kratos pointed out, is one of the very few routes into Sparta. These mountains are also the proving grounds where young warriors are sent alone to face their deepest fears, before being given the honour to join the ranks of the Great Spartan Army. 

This place was called, and it felt lifeless... The Chasm of Solace, they called it, though it was the Chasm of Death, Katrina thought. She never agreed to the cruelty that the Spartan faced - Though, she admitted it was effective, in its own way. Even so, she continued to be against war and conflict, and should she be able to avoid meaningless death, she would. Still, she wanted dearly to believe that children did not have to encounter such horrors, as the minions and monsters brought before them, as it would be less than unfair.

Once they reached the Aroania pass, however, they finally got a better look at the winged woman - It was Erinys, the daughter of Thanatos, the God of Death. Pain, given form... Evil, given life. Katrina shuddered looking at her, knowing very well how the woman before her was her exact opposite, especially when it came to her convictions, but the uncomfortable feeling of dread only amplified once the daughter spoke, in a whispery, eerie voice that sent shivers down your spine. "Ghost of Sparta. The God Slayer. Your brother belongs to Thanatos. So does your blood." she ushered softly, glaring at the man on the other side of the broken bridge. "You cannot stop me. Nothing can." Kratos interjected, only to have the woman fly before him, looking for a death fight, which she couldn't win. In spite of her magic and various allies, Kratos was able to rip away her wings and even defeated her giant bird-form whilst he was being flown around, for free falling to reach the animal form. The two plunged to the ground, deep into the forest, where Kratos could deliver the killing blow, cutting off her arm, impaling her torso and picking up the Scourge of Erinys, an artifact that unleashes a power which no mortal nor God should wield, as it created eternal voids.

In her flurry, Katrina managed to follow the path of destruction, transforming into a cloud of butterflies and searching for the man that was taken away, only to find him somewhere deeper into the woods - At the very entrance of Sparta. Granted, she had never walked the bridge of Sparta, so it felt overwhelming, especially hearing the claims, hails and cheers for the Spartan, the God of War, all adoring and loving. It was a great change of pace, and she had to admit, she found herself smiling, despite all the horrors they had encountered. He, also, felt calmer. Nostalgic, even.

As they stopped at some point, she could see him zoning out, looking into the horizon - He must have remembered a fond memory, from long ago... Or, at least, it must have been, until Ares and Athena came by to destroy this place... All because of that Oracle's prophecy... Whoever controlled the Marked Warrior, controlled the Fate of Olympus... They were at his home. "Deimos... I will find you..." he found himself uttering out loud, only to feel a small pair of arms wrapping around his form, from behind. "Be strong, my love. We will find him. We will bring him back home. I promised your mother, and I promise you, all the same." her grip on him tightened, though he could feel nothing - Her strength, despite it being that of a God, it was nothing compared to his - Even so, it felt good. He always felt good in her arms. It was the only time he felt all his visions staying away from his mind. The only moment of peace he could get. "That, we will." with a grunt and a certain nod of his head, the two went on ahead, descending to the Jails of Sparta, fighting a Piraeus Lion set loose by a deserter who easily found himself being slain by the Lord Commander, and his body used as weight for a mechanism to work, so they can climb up the ladder and reach the Mountains of Laconia. Though short, their journey home was bittersweet, and Kratos would have loved to indulge, at least a single night in his old home which he missed dearly. Alas, Deimos had been waiting for a long time, and he was his only priority at that moment.

Perhaps, some day soon, together, they may return to their old home, and have a drink, in honour of the good old times when they were children.  That is... If Deimos ever forgives him for abandoning him... He must have felt as though Kratos, his own brother, who promised to protect him - Had abandoned him. All this time... Alone, tortured, in the Domain of the Death... Kratos could not even begin to imagine the extent to which he had suffered. All because of the whim of the Gods.

Once arrived at the Temple of Ares, the two were met with some Spartans, working hard to bring down the statue of the old God of War, claiming that they wanted to build a statue in his honour - Hail Lord Kratos, the real God of War!  Again, just like in Atlantis, they stood before the door that spoketh to them, yet the riddle was just slightly altered. "Face thyself, and your fate shall be sealed." the engraving of Ares warned, 

Kratos and Katrina stood in the Temple of Ares. It was a somber reminder of who and what he had become.  The Ghost of Sparta, the God Slayer... And now, the very person the very person he had once despised - the God of War.  Ares was once often called upon before the Spartans went into battle. Sacrifices were made in his name to solicit his blessing, and the Spartans chose their prisoners of war for this purpose. Once Kratos took his place, as the new God of War, Sparta's devotion turned towards the one they saw as their own, save for a few staunch supporters of Ares. Why they chose a dead God, Katrina could never understand. If a God was weak enough to be killed by a mortal, then he deserves his fate.

Seeing the angry look on his face, as he stared up at the awful statue, the Goddess dragged Kratos away, to find the clues they were sent on this journey for. Once they reached the end of the temple, they were met with a sort of blank mirror... Yet somehow, Kratos seemed to be... Attracted to it. "No matter what you see, Kratos, forget not, it is not real. Nothing good ever came out of Ares and his chaotic mind." she warned, squeezing his hand for support - Though she was not sure whether she was heard or not, for he let go of her hand and looked down at his hands... Or rather, forearms - Where the chains were still very attached to the material bandaged over her flesh.

As soon as he looked deeply into the mirror, he had lost himself. Though he did not see Katrina's reflection next to him, he could see himself... But it a weird self he was seeing, black, white and ashen, and far more hateful, he thought. A version that was able to reach out of the mirror and grab him. He wanted to reach out for the Goddess and cling onto her, to get himself out of that powerful grip, but that was nonsense - What could a delicate flower accomplish in terms of strength, compared to him? Thinking that, he was able to release his arm from his other self, only to see that the adult version of himself turned into his child one, and it leapt out of the other side, bringing him down in the process. The child would yell the same quotes he would tell his brother, and would try to punch his face, but it was to no avail for the little one, and in the end, Kratos grabbed the young one and smashed it into the mirror - Which smashed, revealing the Skull of Keres - An ancient relic of the Domain of Death, which has dark power within.

"I am so glad you succeeded - And very fast, might I note." the woman skipped playful next to him, mock-admiring the artifact in his hand. "Where were you?" he asked, almost accusatory, making the woman perk up and look at him in confusion. "What do you mean? I was by your side all this time. You zoned out for a moment, and I saw you fighting something before you destroyed the mirror. I have no idea what you were presented before you, but it must not have been a great time." she exclaimed with sincerity. "You... Did not see what I saw, then?" he was met with a shake of her head. "Last time, I could see your vision, because you held onto me. This time, you let go. Whatever you saw, it was in your mind, but the actions you took... Well, you can see the result before your eyes." the Goddess explained, hearing the familiar grunt of the man. "Then... What did you see?" he did not receive an answer - Only a smile, and the look of her beautiful hair, as she turned around - And him, with her. He should have known she would not tell him - When it came to her own fears and vulnerabilities, she was not as quick to speak, as when she was encouraging him to open his heart and accept the comfort. Not only that... But he did not tell her what he encountered, either. Gods truly are a pain to deal with, sometimes. "Where are you going now?" the woman asked, jumping on the edge on the rail and leaning back, as to look up at the beautiful sunset that painted the sky. She had always loved the sunset and how colourful it looked. She would often drag him out of bed so they could watch it together - And then, they would count the stars and name various constellations. He was much better than he thought he was... And the girl was a disaster at coordinates and basic orientation. One would think Gods were All-Knowing and above such things as... Getting lost. "Atlantis." though he did not think, Kratos just knew he had to return to that sunken city. Only there would he find the entrance to Death's Domain - And the brother he left behind.  "Death's Domain." she heard her breathless usher - She was terrified, and he could understand exactly why. "Kratos... If Deimos is held there... My powers will be of no use to you, save for my fighting skills... Which, although honed for a long time... They do not compare to yours." she explained with reticence. "What do you mean - Your powers will be of no use? I do not understand." do Gods just lose all their power in that realm? "That realm is something... Peculiar, for even us, Gods. It is older than Olympus, and it is nestled somewhere between the Realm of the Dead and the Realm of the Living. It is feared even by most of us. With that being said... In Death's Domain... There is only that - Death. My powers center around life and nature... If I create life in there, it will just wilt away the next second. It does not hold. There are no liana, no shields, no healing... No nothing. If you get injured there... There is nothing I can do. I am afraid for you, Kratos. Thanatos is a monster is all senses." the woman was biting her lip and worrying excessively - It was just like her to pace around, trying to think of a plan. "And what would you have me do, Katrina? Leave Deimos behind?" he may have been to harsh, result of how she jumped in her skin, startled by the roughness of his voice. "By the Gods - Never imply such a thing! I am going to follow you there, even if it costs me my life. I would much rather have the two of you live and be safe, than me getting out of there - But please, Kratos - I beg of you, NEVER lose focus, be very alert, and fight better than even against Ares. That... That child is nothing compared to Thanatos. Do you hear me?" for a frightened crybaby that oftentimes reminded him of a fawn or a bunny, running away to hide from danger, she always showed a surprising amount of courage, especially in face of mortal danger. Be it back then, when he protected him against Ares... Or, once again, against Ares too... She was capable of protecting him emotionally the best, but her trying to fight for him, was something almost comedic, yet entirely appreciated. "The three of us will leave Death's Domain - Alive AND well - Do you understand? Deimos will not be abandoned again!" he was never one to know how to truly speak to a woman - Spartan women understood very well the harshness of the men and easily found ways to mellow their hearts, as did Lysandra, yet even so, Kratos knew his words could easily be misinterpreted, used to leading armies for so many years. Thankfully, the reassured smile that dorned her face made it obvious that she trusted him. "Very well. Let us be on our way... Lord Kratos." turning around, the man could hear her teasing giggle and only scoffed at her childishness - He did not dare complain, however, for it was a welcomed relief, after such tense moments. Going down the stairs, exiting the temple of the ex-God of War, he saw his dear friend and brother in arms, kneeling before him with his shield and spear.

"I have looked after them as if they were my own, Lord Kratos." he bowed, as the commander too the weapons. "You have served me well." the God praised, and it was evident that the man was very happy. "You have a great friend, Kratos." she smiled, admiring his Spartan weapons. "Atreus." he revealed his name. "When I was general, he was my second in command. Now that I am the God of War, I let him take care of most of the army and the leading of Sparta." "Atreus. What a beautiful name. I can see you feel much more at ease with your own weapons. I am glad to see that." the woman confessed, nodding her head to the side, so he would follow along. "To Atlantis it is, then." "To Atlantis it is."

The way back was just as perilous as before, as the mountains are seldom gentle, yet with the aid of the shield, saving them from the wind caused by the Horn of Boreas, and now, it being Kratos's new additional item he could use against enemies, the fights were getting easier. Arriving at the Shrine of Boreas, the God of the North Wind, known as the Devouring One, as he sweeps away from the Northern Mountains, they can feel the chilling cold whipping at their bare flesh. Cooling the air with his icy breath, Boreas is known to carry a giant conch, and artifact that is said to channel the might of the North Wind. 

Exiting the Temple, they arrive at the Canyon of Sorrows, where a fallen body starts floating - No doubt, possessed by the God Thanatos, as it warns them. "Be ware, Ghost of Sparta. Do not pursue this path - The Gods forbid it." "I do not forbid it!" Katrina spoke back to Death itself. "Ah... You. The one who turned her back on her kin. How... Pathetic. And you, Spartan - A mortal, playing God, being a flower girl's lapdog. Ares was a fool to think you would serve him. I have warned you once - If you do not heed my warning, however, not even the Fates will prevent me from ending your path!" Thanatos laughed, taunting the two. "Where is Deimos?!" the girl stepped forward, screaming at him, but he did not even stop laughing. "Get out of my way, Thanatos - Or Ares's blood will not be the only one I'll shed." with that, the corpse was sent flying into a body, made a mockery of what he once was, while alive.

Annoyed, the two continued their journey inside the volcano, where they encountered foe they easily slew - And, on the ground, a golden statue - It was once the beautiful daughter of King Midas, who turned into gold, by his touch. The King of Macedonia was granted a wish by Silenus the Satyr, but his wish soon became his curse. He slowly began to lose his sanity at the sight of everything in his world turning into gold by his mere touch.  Be careful what you wish for, they say, especially when it comes to asking the Gods or the Satyrs. Nothing good ever comes out of that... And, unfortunately for him, Kratos had learnt that lesson the hard way. 

Somewhere further, standing pitifully, like a broken ragdoll, they encountered the shell of the person who once was King Midas. "Stay away... Stay away!!" he warned the two. "I'm cursed! Stay away!" he was fearing for every living being around him. "Don't you see? Everything I touch... Gold." the man started crying. "Midas." Kratos realised, uttering the name of the fallen King. "I didn't mean to... I thought... How... How could I know that she would..." the rock that he held turn to solid gold. Out of sheer disgust, his hands weakened, and fell to the ground. "Oh, my daughter... My beautiful little girl..." he was crying so pitifully. "I wonder... If I could break his curse..." the Goddess found herself muttering to herself, but a hand on her shoulder and the shake of Kratos's head made her realise it would not be a wise idea. From down below, the once miserable voice turned to an agitated one - Wonderous, even. "The River Styx? ... Am I in Hades? I must be! Finally! I know what I must do!" whatever he was seeing could not have been the River of Lament, for he reached out his hand inside the magma, then cried out from pain... Though, the magma turned to solid gold, as expected. "Poor Midas... What he had become. From a once glorious King, to... This. I wish I could have helped the poor man and his daughter. Alas..." but the saddened girl was lead towards the end of this area, so they could continue their path. "There is nothing you could have done. Men must live with the consequences of their own actions." he must have felt that saying very deeply. "We must follow him and use that ability of his, if we want to safely cross this area. I saw what fire does to your vines. I would rather not risk our lives meaninglessly." he explained their next strategy. "Alright... I will try to hold his hands away from you, then. Let us follow him." nodding her head, she fell in path with his running, until they reached a dead end, where Midas was cowering in a corner. He tried to warn Kratos, and with their plan in action, the Spartan was able to knock the King unconscious and carry him, while Katrina found the enemies on the way, to make things easier for the God of War. Arriving next to the cascade of lava, Kratos threw the King at it, and it had fortified into gold.  "Well... I was not expecting this view. It is almost... Artistic. In a very strange way. Kratos, you can be the tenth muse." the woman chuckled, though uneasy, remembering the suffering the man had to endure, though rather relieved, knowing he had to be in pain no further. "Are you done speaking foolish nonsense?" he scowled at the joking woman, dragging her up the cascade, and further on, up the cliff, until they reached the Port of Atlantis.

It looked completely different than what it was just a little before - The Harbour of Atlantis, home to the greatest Armada in the Lands of Greece. It was renowned as a center for trade, knowledge and progress throughout the world of man... And now, it was nothing more than ruins underneath the sea. How upsetting. On the edge, Kratos saw the Goddess, hugging herself as to protect herself from the cold rain that was soaking her to the bone - But her brows were furrowed, and her sight was fixed on the intimidating maelstrom raging in the middle of the sea. Somehow, she knew, they would have to sail in that abominable place.

"Be strong. I will protect you." cupping her face and touching her forehead to his, he reassured the woman that they would make it out alive. It was almost silly, reassuring a God that they would not die - Yet considering the uneventful and boring life of peace she led in the forests, every bit of excitement and death must be overwhelming for her. Self-preservation was not his strongest skill, though he held onto it naturally. Embarking on the ship, Kratos held onto the woman as they sailed deep within the raging abyss - It lay the answer to a question he was not yet prepared to ask - Was Deimos truly still alive?

The road was not only difficult because of the weather conditions, but of the enemies as well - Yet half-way through, Kratos was thrown out of the boat. Crying out his name, Katrina jumped as well and swam after him, though her eyes were stinging and it was getting darker and darker. It was scary and she genuinely felt she might somehow drown there - Or worse, lose her strength and find not the power to sail to the surface, always to be forgotten like a grain of sand, at the bottom of the sea. Thankfully, she was able to reach Kratos's unconscious body, and she dragged him all the way to a cave - Though luck made it so that the annoying head of Poseidon's head was there to mock them still.

Waiting for the man to wake up, Katrina held him in her arms, laid over her lap, and performed various healing spells to keep him warm and in perfect shape, the only comfort being his steadily beating heart. O, how afraid she was - If she lost even him, she would be truly alone in this awfully cruel world. Her red hair hung to her skin like disgusting algae and her flowers were long dead - She looked absolutely dreadful, and felt even more disgusting. She wished she would get home already, and be dry, and with flowers and trees all around her, not... A humid cave at the bottom of the sea.

"It is time to wake up, my love. Return back to me." she whispered sweetly in his ear, caressing his furrowed forehead - And he did just so, jolting up and coughing the remaining water he had in his lungs. "Katrina? What happened?" he asked, still disoriented. "I remembered my swimming lessons. Please, next time you want to go on vacation, let us stray away from the sea. I found my most beautiful iteration to be near the woods." she sighed, a weak joke escaping her lips. "Were you harmed?" he asked, his hands immediately finding her own, as she helped her stand. "Thankfully, no. You were pretty unharmed too. Shall we continue?" she asked, trying to squeeze out the annoying sea water out of her hair. "You have desecrated my Kingdom! I shall not forget this, Ghost of Sparta! You will answer for this affront! And you, flower girl - You will not be welcomed in Olympus anymore! How dare you turn your back on your family?!" the statue head started speaking out of nowhere. "Quiet down, will you?! I am NOT in the mood for your preaching! Besides - Look at what YOUR kingdom did you my hair and clothes! I should hold YOU accountable for this madness!" with that, she destroyed the last remaining bit of him. Kratos looked at her and could barely hold the amused smirk forming on his face, yet his brow was raised, questioning. "...Over an outfit?" "It was my favourite! I always thought green looks very good on me. Am I wrong?" she asked, yet she already knew the answer.  "No." 

Still, if she had a problem with the water before, now, they had to swim throughout the sunken city.  Lord Poseidon, the God of the Seas, took dominion over the oceans when the Olympians ascended to power. The Kingdom of Atlantis was erected in his honour by his followers, and many statues that were built in his image around the city were constructed as integral parts of the structure and mechanism of Atlantis itself. The technology of this city was other-wordly. Too bad it had to end this-a-way. Though Kratos found this city akin to a maze, none of the machinery, nor traps or mechanisms were anywhere near as difficult to figure out as those he faced in Pandora's Temple.   After a while, they managed to reach the upper part of Ancient Atlantis, which was still above the sea - Here, they found a codex which explained that the power of the God of the Seas flows inside the Kingdom of Atlantis and is channeled at the Nexus points spread throughout the city. When imbued with this power, the effigies of Poseidon can focus this energy to activate the structures and mechanisms around Atlantis. 

Not a lot to go on, but possibly, the only clue needed to understand how this city worked. Going back inside the city, they discovered a lost statue of Athena, which spoke to the Spartan once more. Would she never give up from discouraging him? "It is not too late to turn back, Kratos. No good will come of this journey. The Gods..." the same excuse with the pantheon continued on. "I am done with the Gods! Return to Olympus and leave me be!" he reproached her once and for all, ready to turn back, until she spoke again. "Your brother was a threat to Olympus, Kratos. What was done... Had to be done. Forgive me." false apologies, as always. "No! He was just a child! To hell with your silly prophecies and your arrogance! To hell with your narcissism and your selfishness! You think you can play with mortals' lives, just because that is what they are - Mortals, with no power, and are forced to submit to the Gods who play around with they as if they are the toys of a child! Instead of using your gifts for the betterment of the realm, you destroy it - You are just as guilty as Ares was back then, when you burnt Sparta to the ground, in search of a single child who had no fault!" he had never heard Katrina cursing, nor yelling with such anger at anyone, especially her sister, yet he was no stranger to her complaining about how much of a two-faced liar the Goddess of Wisdom was. Now, however, he remembers the ring of her empty apology, from when he was a child as well. "You are no different from us, sister - Waiting for the man of a prophecy as an excuse to find a husband, as if a mortal could ever hold love for a God." Athena's sharp tongue cut deep into her sister's heart. "What would you know of love, Athena? Do not preach to me about that which you cannot understand. You may be the Goddess of Wisdom, but sometimes, even you should have the intelligence to understand that which is beyond you." the red haired woman shot back just as harshly. "YOU were there? Why? Why didn't you help him?" thought conflicted of the two's argument, he was starting to remember even more of that dreaded night.  "I was there for you, Kratos. You had to be saved." Athena spoke those sweet words, but they were as shallow as her. "Katrina saved me. You should have saved him." he blamed the Goddess, but deep inside, he knew - He should have been the one to save his brother. Though he tried, he should have tried even harder. "I... Should have saved him." "You were just a child, Kratos. What could you have done against Ares?" Katrina tried reaching out to him, yet his face turned aside, unable to look at her. She made a great effort to be there for him throughout his whole journey - Be that out of guilt or free will, it mattered little. In the end, he only had her. "There is more to this than you could possibly know, Kratos." her words were giving Kratos no comfort. Only pain and anger. "Lies and riddles - That's all you give me, Athena. Katrina was right all along about all your kin." Athena remained silent. "I WILL save my brother. And you WILL stay out of my way." his order was resolute and strong, and the Goddess ended her possession of the statue, knowing there was nothing more she could possibly say to sway the set mind of the Spartan. "Always a delight, speaking to my intelligent and highly empathetic sister. I dearly hope we will not encounter her again on out journey. The only reason I am not destroy this statue, is because I would gladly see it sink, forever to be forgotten." the red head stomped away from the room, filled with spite at the interaction.

Neither of them could console themselves, nor each other, after such a conversation, yet their minds were far too occupied with untwisting the mysteries of the sinking city, so they could reach Deimos, that they spoke not another word of any other God. Deimos was their only priority, and so it shall remain, until finally, all of the nexus points align, and in turn, the statues - A bridge is formed, which they pass, and after climbing a tree, they reach the Death Gate. With the aid of the skull, they are able to reach the gate that leads them to the Domain of Death.

"There it is. Once we step inside... There is no turning back." the Goddess looked at the open door before them, before turning abruptly to the man, and holding his hands together in her own. "I do not know if this will work! Maybe - Maybe if I focus well enough on it alone, it will!" she exclaimed, and looking down, he could see not a red azalea, but a bigger flower - It was of a light, pale pink, soft and delicate like her sweet lips, and the petals were velvety like her skin. "Just as before, hold it in your fist, and it was heal you. It... Cannot bring back a person from death, of course... I had to remind you of that... But... Though I hope you will not need it... I will channel every bit of my power of this flower alone. Just in case." she was breathless, and her body was trembling lightly - He was not sure whether it was from sheer fear, or from the wetness and cold that was harsh on her bare skin, but this flower - This small bundle of life - It might just serve as the only ray of sunshine and hope they have, in a barren land. "You will be alright. Do not fear. I will protect you and Deimos." Kratos put the flower safely and well within his reach, so he could free his hands and caress her face, leaning down to steal another loving kiss from her. "My body may fear for itself, but my heart fears for you and Deimos. If given the chance, I will make sure the two of you leave this place, before I do." she explained her emotions, to which the man could only snort. "That is not how a Spartan thinks." though he spoke like a Spartan general training a new child recruit, he new very well it would not apply - But at least it earned an amused breathe out of her. "Good thing I am a Greek, and we thrive in a myriad of chaotic emotions." she retorted, stepping back, a grateful and much braver smile playing on her lips. "Let us proceed. We are close to our goal. This is not the time to falter." "Speak more, and I may have to replace Atreus as a second in command."

Though their breath was hitched in their throat and knees weak, they stepped inside the forbidden domain - A Dark Netherworld nestled between the Land of the Living, and the Realm of the Dead. A Purgatory, ruled by the God of Death - Thanatos. Everything seemed like a wasteland, everything was dry and dead - Just like the God of Death himself. Walking through the eerie realm was truly the most anxiety-inducing sentiment, and the graveyard silent that only broke from the wind's howl was far more terrifying than it had to be.

Or so the Goddess thought. Kratos had none of these worthless feelings in his mind, nor at heart - His only objective was rescuing Deimos. Since birth, they are trained to renounce even the idea of fear, let alone know the notion of it - Some wind or silence are nothing compared to all the trials he had faced thus far. 

Further on, they reached the doors to the Domain of Death. A place neither mortal nor God had dared enter. Worshipped long before the Olympians - Thanatos, the God of Death, dwelled within. And upon stepping before the very door that had the God's face engraved into it, like the other two, it had spoken. "Free thyself, and your past shall be forgiven." his voice was far more menacing and creepy, just like death itself spoke to you. As Kratos opened the doors, they immediately closed behind them. Walking up the stairs to the Temple of Thanatos, a slithery voice shook the ground. "Who dares defile my domain?!" but it had been lost in the silence. Few have ever ventured here... Yet none have left alive to tell the tale.

Though the traps were plenty, and so were the foes, nothing stopped Kratos from reaching his brother, wherever in this vast realm he may be. There is no force of nature, or out of this world - Not death itself - That can hold him from rescuing his long-awaiting brother. 

On the large balcony, hanging by the branches of a wilted tree, there he was - A grown up Deimos. Katrina could only stare up at the strung up man, thankful that Kratos was doing what she should have done, in hitting the roots as to liberate the brother. With his arm alone clinging onto the last remaining coiled branch, Kratos threw his spear, rupturing the dead tree, whilst the woman caught the falling man in her arms, holding onto him dearly. 

"Deimos... Deimos, you may awaken. You are safe now." Katrina spoke in her soothing voice, whilst Kratos, although very much afraid of even approaching his brother, knelt next to the Goddess and slowly reached out for his brother's shoulder, reassuring him of the very same thing - He was safe now. Great was their confusion, however, once - Instead of a scared man, of sobbing, or of joy of reunion - They heard a laughter, almost deranged and crazy. The laugh of a broken man on the verge of madness, slipping down the slide of never being able to recover. "Safe?!" the man growled at the two, pushing himself away from the woman's arms and glaring at his own brother. Why, O, why, if he was able to save him, did he not attempt so any sooner? "You! Let this happen to me! You were supposed to protect me!" he clinged tightly onto his brother's shoulders, before reaching out to pull on his face painfully. "Did you think I would forget?" he asked, gripping himself closer to his brother's ear. "Did you think - I would forgive?" his whisper was low and threatening. Deimos was wishing Kratos death. "I will NEVER forgive you, brother."  "Deimos, please - I beg of you, see reason. What could Kratos do to save you? A mere child, just like you, against the God of War? Against the man who brunt your Sparta to the ground? He tried, remember? He leapt to attack Ares, but he was swatted away like a pesky fly. Had he known you were alive, he would have come save you sooner - Alas, everyone lied to him, including your own mother. All because of the Gods. Blame them - I beg of you - But do not hate your brother. He truly loves you and there was no day of his being that he did not live with guilt over what happened that night." Katrina tried to reason with the man, but it was in vain - As she tried reaching out to his face  to sooth him, he slapped her away. All the years he suffered destroyed his reasoning - But neither of the two were going to give up on him.  "What about you, then - Goddess? I remember you. You just stood there, while I was taken away. Pretended to stand up to Ares, but you hold no power of your own. Instead of fighting him, you allowed a child to be sacrificed for the whim of the Gods. Is that what you're saying? Blame the Gods - Including you?" the awful look he was giving her hurt her heart, but she could never be upset with his words. He had all the rights to be angry and wish them a most painful death. "I govern flowers, animals and kindness, Deimos. I can heal and create life, but I cannot win a fight against a war-born warrior. Even in this state of yours, you would easily be able to kill me, should that be your wish. And if it is, then I shall allow you to kill me in any way you see fit - But, please, Deimos. Let us do that outside of this awful Domain. See the world of the Living again, touch grass, let the Sun's warm rays kiss your skin, and breath in the fresh air in your chest. Have you not stayed imprisoned in this cage for far too long?" her honeyed words only seemed to apply fuel to the fire when it came to the rage within his heart, and he leapt on the woman, his hands tightly wrapped around her supple neck - But she did not seem to struggle. Instead, she reached out in an attempt to touch his face - Serenity was all she had to offer him, but even that might not work, in the realm of the dead. "What would you know about my pain? What would you know about the woes of a mere mortal? You are just a God! Selfish, immortal, surrounded by everything you could even think of! You had naught to suffer, nor struggle for anything! You try to sell me empty words and shallow promises, but I can see right through your poison! You are trying to trick me!" which each accusation, Deimos applied more pressure to her windpipe, and it was getting harder and harder to breathe - Until Kratos pushed him away from her, and dragged her behind him, to shield her.  "Brother, see reason! Neither of us is trying to deceive you!" Kratos yelled as his brother, but his words fell on deaf ears, as they continued leaping at each other, throwing punches and kicks. "LIARS!" Deimos cried out, jumping at his brother, and breaking the balcony rail, the two fell down on the ground, many feet below, with Kratos being the one to break the fall. Katrina could not even imagine the pain his body must have felt, followed by himself unable to allow himself to block any of the hits sent his way. Deimos was angry with his, thus, he deserved everything he was getting. He hurt his brother, thus, he deserved to get his revenge on him by hurting him back, the only way he could - With his fists.

Without another thought in mind, Katrina ran all the way down to where the two were wrestling, cursing herself for being unable to use her magic when the two people she cared for most were in need, but the sight before her was excruciating to watch. "Get up! Fight me!" Deimos growled at his brother, shaking his head as to pay attention to him, despite his hazy disposition from all the punches he received to his head. "I hate you, Kratos!" the man was so absorbed by his anger for his brother that he did not see the great shadow looming over him. "DEIMOS, BEHIND YOU!" the Goddess cried out, and with a great sprint, she vaulted on Thanatos's back, getting him on a choke hold, her legs tightly gripped around his torso. It was the only way she knew was going to keep him busy enough so that the brothers would have enough time to get out of there.  As expected, the God of Death was not impressed by the woman's attempt at stopping him, so she threw her off his back - Yet she was relentless. Seeing his claw-like hand trying to reach for Deimos, she threw herself into the God's side, making him completely miss his trajectory. "Are you so eager to die, flower girl? I have never killed a God before. I shall be starting with you, then." taking out her polearm, she adopted a defensive stance before the two brothers and parried the awful scratches that the God of Death was attempting to harm them with, but a God's weapon is indestructible. Thanatos's attacks could not get past Katrina's spear. "I AM DONE PLAYING GAMES WITH YOU, LITTLE GIRL! DEATH AWAITS YOU!" the towering Black Dread latched his hands onto the spear and despite the struggle, easily overpowered the woman, whom he rose up along with her weapon, before throwing her to the ground. She did not stop. She went to tackle him, just to keep him away from Deimos and Kratos - But Thanatos had lost his patience, and with one hand, he grabbed the Goddess's whole body and squeezed it tight enough for her to lose her breath, yet the grip on her spear did not falter.  "Deimos - Forgive... Kratos...!" were her last words before she was swept away into a flurry, to the edge of the cliff. "You killed my daughter, Olympian! And now - You WILL suffer for it! A life for a life!" the God stepped off the road, and with his great wings spreading, flew to place far off, where he threw Katrina on the ground, and proceeded to toy with her by 'sparring' with his sword. "KATRINA!" Kratos extended his arm out for the woman, but his vision was blurred and his body felt weak. "Brother - Do you not see how you were lied to? We were never meant to fight each other, but to fight together, side by side." Kratos felt the weight of his brother lighten, and Deimos seemed to have a revelation. He got up and helped his brother stand with him. "Why did she go through all that pain? Why had she not used her magic? She could not have been such a fool as to believe she stood a chance with a single stick, against that monster?" the brother frowned, only to see Kratos take out the glowing pink flower. "All her magic was cast into this - Should we need it, to heal our wounds, we just had to grip onto it. The realm of the dead kills the life she creates instantly. That woman vowed to bring you back home by any means necessary - As did I. Are you with me, brother?" it was the right moment to use the flower - Together, with his brother - So that their injuries might heal, and they could bring down the God of Death together. Though reticent at first, Deimos reached out his hand and held onto his brother's tightly, with the flower in the middle being trampled - Yet their bodies felt invigorated and renewed. They felt as if they were floating, light as feathers, and healthy as never before. "Let's get out of here, brother." the flower offered Deimos the clarity his mind needed after decades of never-ending torture. He could see his brother for who he truly was, and his revenge-driven self was now enlightened. Together, the brothers leapt from the edge of the cliff, right onto the Suicide Bluffs, where they saw the woman struggling to grip onto the edge of the ridge, yet unable to drag herself up. It was thanks to the spear impaled onto the ground that she was still standing there, to begin with. Blast that Thanatos!  But the edge of the bludd was quickly eroding under her grip, and bit by bit, the earth was falling down next to her. In the distance, she was able to see the two brother climbing down the wall of the mountain, trying to reach her in time. "Do not come closer! The round will break! Get out of here, save yourselves before Thanatos returns!" she cried out to them worriedly, despite feeling her fingers lose their strength spiraled around the weapon. Seeing how close to falling she was, Kratos leapt across the ground and slid on the dust, grabbing her wrists just as she fell. "Hold onto me, Katrina! I will pull you up!" though she was slender, it was not easy, pulling up someone when you are flat on your belly. The grip on one of her hands was slipping swiftly, and though he tried reaching back to get her - It was Deimos who grabbed her hand and helped his brother pull up the woman - Before he pulled her to his chest.  Though her mind was still in a frenzy and her heart was racing with exhilarating emotions, the Goddess grabbed the two's faces in a hurry. "Fools! You should have run away! Your lives are more important than mine own!" but for a split second, seeing the way the brother cooperated, and how their skin was gleaming softly, no doubt, from her magic, she realised the two made up. What a relief. "O, you two are just a handful. Are all Spartans this hard-headed? No mind. Let us find a way out of here, and you can catch up when we get back home. I am sure there are enough stories you must share." despite her worries and fears, the red haired woman with the sweet smile was genuinely happy for the two - And finally, Deimos could see that she was genuine. "I will NOT lose you again, Deimos." Kratos vowed to his brother. "Come! The fight is not over!" and thus, Kratos handed his brother his own Arms of Sparta. They knew, unfortunately, that should they want to leave the Domain of Death, they had to defeat its guardian.

Retrieving the spear, the Goddess ran after the two Spartans to a higher plateau, where they were met with exactly the Black Dread himself, cackling wickedly at the three. "The Oracle may have yet spoken truth. The Marked Warrior shall bring about the destruction of Olympus." Death spoke. "Ares chose poorly that day - Do you not agree, flower girl? I am sure, you, of all people, would have noticed. You, whose fate is intertwined with the Marked Warrior's, bound together for as long as he may live." that impish, sinful smirk of his made the hair rise on the back of her hair - But Katrina could not deny, his words held truth, and it is long since she had theorised about the true identity of the prophesised child. "He took your brother, when it should have been you! It is YOUR life that the Goddess ruined, not his! Ha! All that work, for naught. None of that matters now. You were foolish and heeded not my warnings. Nothing you do is of your own choosing! The Sisters of Fate have made their choice, and your lives are nothing but their characters in a play they wrote." Death ridiculed the three fools before him. It pained the woman greatly, and she did not want to admit, that all this time, she had lied to herself and put a veil over her own eyes. "The Gods do not decide my fate, Thanatos!" Kratos snarled at the God, yet he only continued deriding him. "The Gods decide... And the Sisters of Fate make it so! Just ask that little half-wit next to you. She, the laughingstock of Olympus, is a first-hand witness of how easily bored the Sisters get. You are NOTHING but a pawn in a game you don't even know is being played!" his words did not anger the Goddess - She knew the truth that has been hammered into her brain for the past century, so she accepted the belittling from anyone who saw it fit - But Kratos had none of it. Who was Thanatos, to decide his fate? His life? His end? He was just a God, and nothing more - And just like Ares, he could be killed. He did not care how Katrina supposedly ruined his life, nor of the truth she knew of the Sisters of Fate. It did not matter at the moment. It was not the time for doubt - It was time to act, and fight. Fearlessly, like the true Spartan that he and his brother were. "Now is the time, Kratos. The beginning of the end." "You were supposed to bring serenity and peace to the dead, Thanatos. You have changed. You have become as awful and corrupt as your sisters. You are the one who brings shame to our kin, not me. You may call me what you will - Your words have long since stopped bothering me - Yet know this, Thanatos - Today is the day that ends your existence on any realm there is." Katrina threatened, and getting ready, she went to attack, in tandem with the two Spartans who worked so well together and synchronised so perfectly that one would never know they were torn apart since childhood. With the God of Death impaled with Deimos's spear, he was thrown off the edge of the cliff, but the Kind One called them back to her side, on safer ground. "Be ready for anything! That one is not so easy to defeat!" and truth she spoke, as Thanatos returned, in the shape of a great dragon, spitting voids at them, the same as his daughter once did.

Once more, the three used their attacks one by one, covering for one another, protecting, yet also inflicting damage onto their common enemy, to the point that Thanatos was forced to resume his human form and fight them - He was backed into a corner and evidently overwhelmed. But the dragon aspect had soon returned, and he seemed much more enraged than before, and aiming straight at Deimos. As Katrina's only objective was to protect the two, her body moved as if possessed and she pushed the rescued one out of the claw's path, yet it turn, the dragon grabbed her and slammed her into the mountain wall repeatedly, before throwing her body away, as if she was some kind of discarded ragdoll.

Having landed onto one of the Temple's pillars and breaking them, she had not realised the whole building was falling onto her, until it was too late - And her consciousness abandoned her, knowing not the fate of the two struggling brothers.  Enraged by that act, Deimos attempted to throw his spear at the monster while Kratos had it chained in a steady hold - but its strength was beyond even the God of War, and he was picked up, dragged across the mountain and rammed onto the hard ground repeatedly, while he could only hear his brother calling out his name with sheer worry. During this time, Deimos found an opening in the monster's defense, as he rampaged on Kratos, and so he vaulted up, jamming his spear into the dragon's eye - Yet in its rage, it had caught the Spartan and swatted him painfully onto the wall - With a cry of agony, Deimos fell onto the ground, never to regain his consciousness again.

Seeing his beloved brother fallen, Kratos's rage took over his whole being, and alone, he defeated the corrupt abomination that was once the God of Death, forcing it back into his human form, which he wrecked. "You are insignificant, Kratos!" Thanatos's mocking was dismissed like the breeze, as the Spartan kicked and punched him away. "Your brother suffered because of you!" he impaled him with both of his blades, before throwing him into the boulders, breaking them with ease. "Your fate lies in the hands of Olympus, Ghost of Sparta! That woman is lying to you! She is a traitor!" the end of the God of Death was brought upon by the Blades Kratos wielded... But the victory was bittersweet, as soon as he turned around and saw his brother's lifeless body.

Up on the cliff, he saw the red head stumbling, her outfit as soaked with her own blood, the same colour of her hair. Sometimes, she hated the colour red more than she hated anything in this life. Kratos had naught the power to tell her not to climb down the abrupt stair, even as he saw her tripping over her own two feet and falling. He had not the strength to admit to himself that he had failed his brother once more... Nor could he tell the woman that the man who was bound by soul to her was dead. 

"Deimos...?" Kratos could feel her weak voice, calling out to his brother - Upon seeing the body laying on the ground, she fell to her knees and dragged herself pitifully by his side, holding him in her decrepit arms. "Deimos... Wake up. Wake up. Come on. Let us return home." the more she spoke, the more it hurt Kratos. He was not one for words, but what he felt, Katrina verbalised. "Come on... Thanatos may be dead, but my powers still do not work in this realm... The flower...! The flower! Kratos, give me the flower! I can still save him!" but the forlorn look on his face was enough of an answer. The man went on one knee, putting one hand on her head, as if to stop her.  "You cannot heal the dead, Katrina. It is over." the hurt in his voice was immeasurable, but it did not stop the woman from trying - But every flower she created, every vine she erected - They would wilt away the next second.  "He cannot - He cannot be! That is impossible! I can -... I can still feel he is alive! My - My soul, it -... I-I do not know how to explain, but I -- My heart knew when he was born - It would know if he was dead! So-- So why? How? It just-- It makes no sense!" but her fingers found her arteries, and found no pulse, and from his nose she could feel no breathing, and his heart was ever still. "By the Gods..."  "He is dead. Whatever fantasy it is that you dream of, it is no reality. Erase it from your mind." Kratos spoke, as he picked up his brother's dead body. First, his mother, and now, his own brother, the one he was supposed to protect... To rescue, now... He was dead. All because of him. "But then... Whose heart am I... Feeling...?" but realisation has long since befallen her, and a sense of vertigo made her almost slip into another realm of the senses. She could never admit the truth to herself, but her body - Her heart - They always knew.

The Marked Warrior.

Her Soulmate.

They were the same person.

It has always been Kratos.

From the moment he first held him into her arms, the time she looked him in his eyes - Their hearts were interconnected.  It was Kratos who became the greatest general the Spartan Army ever had. It was Kratos who had a beautiful family, made out of love, at which she could only look at with heartbreak and envy, though also love and protectiveness. It was Kratos whose life she ruined all along. It was Kratos's family that she killed.

The man who trusted her more than anyone - Kratos - It was him that she had betrayed all along, and played the part of the hypocrite, treacherous fool. It was no wonder she always longed for his touch - Her body knew better than her mind. Whenever her heart would leap in glee, hearing his sandals slap across the light marble of the room they shared, knowing he would come see her. Her lungs would forget to breathe whenever he leaned in to kiss her, and her mind would blank whenever he would linger his fingertips on her bare skin.

O, how she hated when the Gods were right, without realising. She truly was the laughingstock of Olympus, though for all the wrong reasons. None knew the truth about the Marked Warrior's existence, otherwise, the pantheon would not have humoured him with silly tasks, but would have killed him, the same as they did with Deimos.

She was in deep trouble - That, she knew - But more than anything, she knew that, at some point, and that being preferably, very soon - She would have to confess the truth about the ruination of his life and how it had occurred.

But she was ready. She could take all his hate. In fact, he could kill her - It did not matter. If it made him feel better, it was a small price to pay, for the selfishness she displayed in her moment of weakness and desperation.

Fate truly was just a sick joke, and life, as well, nothing less but cruel.

Dragging herself up the stairs, following close behind the Spartan, up the Path of Sorrow, she watched him lower his brother's body into the ground, into the hole dug by the nasty Grave Digger. With one last solemn look of sorrow at his brother, Kratos found the last bit of strength, to utter his farewell words of departure to his last beloved family member. "You... Are free now... Brother." his pain was infinite, as he looked down, at the edge of the death's realm. Looking down, at the breaking waves across the rocks at the bottom, he was reminded of the time he tried to end this agony, casting himself down into the merciless sea... And his foot found itself instinctively leaving the ground, inching forwards into emptiness...

But he stopped himself. The same small arms were latched feebly around his torso. The last bit of his sanity was keeping him from ending it all. "Please... Do not... Leave me... Alone." her fragile voice was enough to make him sigh in defeat. He knew loneliness and guilt all to well. "By the Gods... What have I become...?" his question, although thrown into the wind, was answered by the pestering elderly man. "Death. The Destroyer... Of Worlds." though, before he could answer to the Grave Digger, he was already gone. "Listen naught to his non-sense, Kratos." her grip on him was attempting to get tighter, but it was in vain. The damage sustained in the battle was too great for the frail Goddess who could not heal herself in the Netherworld Purgatory. Perhaps the two will always end up licking each other's wounds, one way or another. What a pitiful fate.

As the woman took a step back away from the cliff, taking the man's body with her, a foreign voice was heard. A voice which, although familiar, was unwelcomed. "It is done, Kratos." Athena stepped down the few stairs that led down from the portal between realms. “You have let go of that which made you mortal. Your ties to this world are severed. You are ready... To be a God." though the Goddess of Wisdom reached out her hands to his face, Katrina pushed her away with the remaining power she held.  "NO!" she cried out, aggressive as Kratos never heard her before. "He did NOT let go of his brother! Deimos was taken away - By YOU! By ALL of you!" the red head looked desperate and angry, not befitting of a peaceful Goddess. "It was the Gods who brought him onto the brink of madness! It was the Gods who took away EVERYTHING that his heart held dear! His wife! His child! His mother - Now, his own brother whom he thought long dead - How DARE you even imply that Godhood is a -- A REWARD for losing EVERYTHING that you ever cherished?!" Kratos always admitted that he valued wisdom and intelligence, along with prowess and tactics - After all, to be a war strategist, you needed all the possible skills one could get, and Athena held them all, along with her deceased brother, Ares. However, the more the Gods wronged him - The more he heard Katrina's spiteful words that blamed the pantheon for their evil-doing, the more his conviction was set in stone. He could never trust the Gods - And more, he could never trust Athena. Everything she promised was in vain. All her rewards were shallow, and her words were empty. Everything that she deemed wise, was poison, and the wound was festering to the point of no return. Unless you cut down the infection, the flesh may never heal. "Do not interfere, sister. Such matters are beyond your limited understanding - Have you not advised me so, a little earlier? You would do well to heed your own piece of unwanted advice." Athena's jab only worsened Kratos's anger - It was clear to him that Katrina's words hit the nail so bad, that Athena was backed into a corner, and gaslighting her, along with manipulating him with her well-picked words, were all she had left in her attempt at using the new God of War as a puppet for Olympus. "Is this all a game for you, Athena?!" the Spartan roared at the Goddess of Wisdom, startling her - She was quickly realising that she was losing her grip on him, in detriment of the red head. Watching him reach out to grab her sister's hand, guiding her towards the portal, Athena realised there was no turning back. She had lost Kratos, and his revenge-driven heart was set on the destruction of Olympus. "It is not over, Athena. The Gods will pay for this." thus, the God of War guided his red haired lover back to their unfortunate home.

He did not need to rest. He needed to think. He needed to accept the truth of what happened. He could not return to his room - Instead, he dorned his armor and sat on the large throne of the God of War. Kratos has fueled all of his regrets and pain, into anger, and though he held no hatred for only one Goddess, even she, he would not listen to, until she told him the truth that she knew. The whole pantheon made a mockery out of her secret, taunting him for not knowing - If it was something so important, he had to know. "You would hate me forever, Kratos. I am not ready to lose you." she would say - And though he could see sincerity in her eyes, sheer fright at the notion of losing him - He could not stand to be lied to any longer, despite the best intentions. He had lost everything he ever loved. For once, he wanted to know the truth.

For her, he would wait forever - Only if she reveals the truth to him.

Though perhaps, somehow, in some way, maybe he held an inkling of what it was that she was hiding - But how could he even begin to speculate something as outlandish as her supposed selfishness and self-inflicted guilt?

That was an enigma that not even the most skilled riddlers, nor the wisest philosophers, could decipher.

It was a question with no answer.

It was fate.

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#god of war x reader #god of war imagine #god of war #kratos x reader #kratos imagine #kratos #deicide #deicide chapter 4

[ashestoshadows]

(Champion) Reynard x (female) Reader (Headcanons... I guess?)

As soon as Leon lost his spot of being Champion and losing to his little brother's best friend, Reynard, you couldn't help but catch wind of it. The whole news spread around Galar like wildfire

Was she really that powerful to beat the man who held the spot for so long, just to lose to a trainer who looked like she could barely even socialise without stuttering from what you saw of her?

Her pokemon were all intimidating... Especially the ones she brought almost everywhere with her... Her Sylveon, Arcanine and Zacian were always carried with her. They were shown proudly by her when the reporter asked for her first few pokemon in her current party.

"The rest are either very powerful or not originally from here. The ones I've got with me currently are all real sweethearts so don't worry,"

Her accent was so smooth, a foreign one at that... She was somewhere from Australia, apparently.

For some reason her voice was so easy to listen to, it was almost no time for you to swoon for her voice and for her appearance

White hair, hazel eyes, basically black clothing and pale skin. She was basically monochrome in appearance, besides her eyes and eyebrows which shined like gold and was her natural hair color, brown.

You loved replaying appearances of her on TV when they were done being recorded. You were planning on wanting to see her hopefully before one of her battles.

You hurriedly rushed over to where a huge crowd of people blocked the way, forcing you to push through the people, profusely apologising.

"Sorry! Oh, sorry miss! Sir, excuse me!"

Your head popped through the crowd before you gasped feeling blush aflame on your cheeks at the sight of her, beautiful hair that was flowing in the wind... Her Arcanine could be seen growling at.... Who the hell was that?

"Bede was it?"

Her voice snapped you out of your trance seeing the female in an almost battle pose as fans could be seen silencing down

"Yes, Reynard, it is... Doesn't matter if you're now Champion, I'll take you down!"

The champion just eyed the crowd before her eyes landed directly on you. She smirked before looking back at Bede as you giggled like a high schooler that smirk and moment would be burned into your brain and corneas now.

The battle went as expected... Reynard succeeds as the fairy-type gym leader fell to his knees,

"I've failed multiple times now but... I will never win, will I?"

Reynard just turned around, almost heartlessly before walking off... Leaving her crowd of fans including you in shock. The fans quickly sped off towards the female who now was petting her Arcanine, Cerberus' head comforting the huge canine.

"There, there... Are you good now? Good."

She muttered to her dog as she turned around, subtly smiling before giving out autographs and doing photos like normal.

When it came for your turn to get her autograph you couldn't help but feel your lip quiver and hands shake causing her to chuckle in amusement

"I'm not gonna bite,"

Which only furthered your nervousness, as she approached you... And hugged you?

"Must be having a anxiety attack, poor thing.."

You were older than her by two years and yet she was the one treating you like a child,

Your mind almost drifted elsewhere after smelling what must've been red velvet... She smelled like the cake and not gonna lie, you almost drooled on her shoulder. Like a baby.

She noticed this just smiling as you blushed hearing cameras clicking,

"Vixen? Could you please comfort her while I handle my fans?"

Out pops a huge dark-furred Pokémon, a Zoroark, apparently called "Vixen" which startled you... You've never seen a Zoroark before, so this must be one of those Pokemon she mentioned which weren't from here. Its emerald green eyes make you slightly uneasy as the fox reluctantly nods before the teen slightly nudges you into its arms.

You snuggled into the fox's arms actually finding it comforting as you see a small fox pop out of its wild messy head of hair, or was it a mane? It made a small noise as of noticing you before it scurried back in garnering you to giggle again.

You felt the fox subtly give you a lick on the cheek when it notice you shuddering in fear at the almost growing crowd of people, and Bede was now long gone... You did notice Reynard, herself shaking and slightly jittery almost as if she was anxious too.

You felt something slip into your hand... It was her League Card! It had her smiling as she held up a peace sign, smiling at the camera with her signature/autograph on the card's bottom right-hand corner. And her number on the left-hand of it.

Number 28

──────────────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ────────────────

28 is my character's number, And the banner at the beginning was made and edited by me, so there we go. Ashes signing off :)

#headcanons #its finally here! #ashestoshadows #Pokémon sword #pokemon #Reynard the Trainer #champion reynard #not yandere #Reynard x reader #female reader

[mischief-incarnate]

Hello Consequences of My Actions

Day 3 of @daily-writing-challenge

(Disclaimer, while Catamerly was my previous main in WoW, she is now in the world Zyltenia and this Cat is that iteration. Ewan I sometimes play as a Dracthyr, but his origin is firmly in this world.)

(WARNING, Adult language, vulgar wording, and sexual theme. Proceed with caution and 18 and up only!)

            Prince Ewan walked through the halls of the ancient Leto Palace.   Eons of his ancestors had walked these halls before him, each with their own story and purpose.  He spent a moment wondering how many of them were like him, hiding the secret he hid from most everyone except a chose few.   A secret that if it ever became known would make him a hunted man. 

            Not that he lived in fear, why would he?   He was after all a dragon, and even though part of him knew he should fear the Lóng Jīnzi Empire ever finding out about him, he did not.  They had after all nearly destroyed all the winged dragons in the primordial times, declaring dragons with wings where impure and must be purged.  Still, he was different he believed, and maybe that was arrogance, but he carried his mother’s blood as well.  Ancient blood that was easily as old as the Lóng Jīnzi, and the Leto magics were a terrifying thing when the right person was born.  He was that person this generation.

            He paused in front of the door to his personal study, making a face while chewing on his lower lip.  One large, strong hand ran through his curly chestnut hair in a gesture he often performed when he was deep in thought.  The curls wrapped around his long, graceful fingers, those where hands of the artisan he was.  Strong, graceful, and capable of creating works of art.  Never mind his works of art where often used to kill, but not all where the flintlocks he loved.  When the mood struck him he would spend hours painstakingly producing delicate jewelry any queen would be honored to own.  He was a man of many facets they said, and those wagging tongues where not wrong.  He blew out a long sigh, still hesitating as he decided how to deal with the woman waiting within.                The odd woman from Gade who had bullied her way to speak with him.  From all accounts she had not accepted no, even willing to turn guards to ash if she had to his advisor had stated.  The man had identified then spitfire as a war hero named Catamerly Bloodsand, a half blood woman of Gade and the desert Alhamra Empire.  Ewan had asked his advisor if he knew if this woman was a Wolfen or not, but the man did not have an answer.   What he did know is she was a powerful Pyromancer and Battle Mage, but if she was a shifter?  That he did not know, but Ewan would find out soon enough.

            What was one tiny woman to him anyhow?   He rolled his deep chocolate hued eyes and stepped into his study.  No one would keep him out and this little obnoxious piece of fluff would learn the stuff a Leto Prince was made of.

            He paused a moment in the doorway, staring at the little vixen that was reclining in his favorite chair.  She sprawled in the far too large for her leather chair, bare feet kicked up on his desk, causing her dress to gather around her thighs revealing shapely toned legs the color of deep caramel.  Her boots she had tossed off in front of the desk so she could paint her toenails a vibrant red.  She completely ignored him standing in the doorway, her golden eyed gaze purely focused on what she was doing.  Without so much as a glance towards him she spoke in a voice rich and deep as the softest velvet.  “Stop just standing there, come in or step out, but you are letting in a draft.”

            Ewan tensed, his jaw clenching at the insolent little tart making herself comfortable in his study, but by the deities above and below she was breath taking.   From her nipped in waist that led into full curved hips, to her generous breasts that the heavy battle robes could not hide, finally to a heart shaped face with rose petal lips marred by a scar slashing across her face from her right temple to left crossing over her left eye and ending at her jaw.  Instead of detracting from her, it added to her beauty, fierce and dangerous.  He guessed she was no more then five feet in height, tiny yet her robust presence filled the room as she ordered him around.

            “Do you know who I am,” Ewan demanded.

            “Annoying,” she replied without missing a beat.

            “That is a description, not a name!”

            Her brush froze and her glowing eyes slowly turned up towards him.  “It can be a name and you wear it well.”

            Ewan stood staring at the impudent piece of fluff who spoke to him like that.  He stepped in slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the wood crack.   She looked entirely unimpressed, her pretty lips pursing into an annoyed moue.

            He strode over to glare down at her, easily towering over her even when she stood to glare up at him.  The top of her head did not even come to his shoulder, her lush form dwarfed by his mass.   She stood in a position that would normally be chest to chest, but it was more like tit to belly.  Still her whiskey gold eyes swirled with irritation as she locked her gaze with his. 

            “I damn well know who you are… prince,” she hissed.  “The man who refuses to meet with an Ambassador of Gade.  You think the trolls and barbarians are not a worry to Leto, but they will make it this far south if they are not stopped.”

            “Leto has its own issues, and you are not an Ambassador little imp,” he snarled in return.  “Just because you are a hero at home does not mean you are nothing more then another plebian at my feet.”  Ewan was shocked at his own words.  Normally he was a polished speaker skilled in the arts of diplomacy and negotiation, but this woman struck something deep inside of him.

            “Did you call me plebian,” Catamerly suddenly laughed at him.  He expected rage, but this was worse.  “First… I know I am not the Ambassador.  I just accompanied him as a guardian.   Second… I never realized you were that slow.  Perhaps I should press to meet the Crown Prince Sorrow.  I understand he is a pleasant person and far better looking then you.”  She curled her lip and broke eye contact to examine her nails as if he was less then mud on her boot.

            Ewan’s mouth worked a moment without a sound, trying to formulate words.  She glanced up and lifted a delicate arched brow.  “It is truly a well kept secret you are mentally slow, but they say some artisans are gifted their talents to make up for their lack of brain power… an exchange if you will.”

            “You little bitch!  Someone should shove a cock in your mouth,” he snarled, losing any form of diplomacy he may have left.

            “Better men then you have tried,” she curled her lips back to reveal elongated canines.  

Definitely Wolfen then he made note.  It also quickly occurred to him that there was no information on her using that hybrid form in battle, which was virtually unheard of for a shifter.  Was her magic so powerful she did not need that form?   He felt curiosity stir beneath his burning hot rage.   He grabbed onto it and took a deep breath, shoving down the draconic rage building in him.

“You would be entirely mistaken.  There is no one like me,” he said with a smug tone and a snide smile.

            She rolled her eyes at him, scoffing at him now.  “The rumors about you are only because the poor girls take pity on the dull witted prince who makes pretty things.”

            Several courses of action came to mind in an instant for Ewan.  He stood glaring down at her while he pondered which one to take.  Having her arrested would be a waste, and honestly arresting a Gadian War Hero would be a poor choice.  Though the thought of her in chains made him instantly hard.

            Catamerly was once more looking down at her nails ignoring him.  He could see her eyes widen as her gaze was perfectly lined up to see the sudden effect of his thoughts manifesting physically.

            “Oh I promise you certain rumors about me are completely true,” he drawled out, his voice deepening with desire.

            She looked up at him a flicker of surprise in those eyes.  The scorn was gone now, replaced with skepticism.  “Do you really expect me to fuck you?”

            “Hardly vixen, but I have a good imagination and I can just slack my lust myself, imagining you cuffed to my bed naked.   Nothing you can do about that now is there?”

            “Is that so,” she said.

            “It is most certainly so,” he replied in haughty tones.

            Her next course of action would take Ewan completely off guard.  Instead of the typical female reactions he expected she chose violence of her own fashion.

            Tiptowing up she grabbed a fistful of his curly locks she could just reach as she bounced up wrapping her legs around his hips in one fluid movement.  Her hot mouth found his, tongue dragging across his lips till they parted to allow her tongue to entwine with his.  Kissing the woman was like kissing raw flames, burning him to his core drawing a deep primal need from the depths of him.  Her soft breasts pressing against his hard body where far fuller than he first imagined.  Her body writhed against him, setting his imagination afire at what she would be like naked and riding him. 

            The next moment he was holding air, his lips and skin tingling where her touch had scorched him.  She stood in the now open doorway.  “This is how this is going to work priiiiiince… you are going to come to me and ask politely for an audience.  I may even grant it.   Once we discuss business I may be nice enough to let you use that tasty cock you have in those pants on me.  Till then… your imagination falls completely short of what I am.  Consider this a lesson in actions and the consequences they bring about.”

            Before he could retort a reply, she vanished in white flames, leaving burn marks on the door and floor.  Ewan closed his eyes and let out a long deep breath.  “I am going to beat that ass of hers once I get her naked,” he snarled out loud.   Damned if he didn’t know right then he would chase her down and deal with business of the kingdoms, and he hated the knowledge.

#@daily-writing-challenge

[badass-at-fandoming]

Fandom: Ikémen Revolution

Pairing: Seth Hyde x gn!Alice x Sirius Oswald x Harr Silver

Tags: PWP, Foursome, Gang Bang, Bondage, Feathers, Anal Sex

Thank you so much, @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore,​ for organizing this fandom event, and additional thanks to everyone who liked, reblogged, and commented on my writing! This was my first time participating in a fandom writing challenge, and I had tons of fun writing this fic and reading others' amazing contributions. I wish everyone health and wealth in the future.

That Army Appreciation summer pulled the switch lever on your life for a new direction, and the wheels of the years roll on their new train track. For Seth's thirtieth birthday, you guide him to Canis Major's second location in the Central Quarter.

"Are you sure you don't want to go shopping as usual, Alice?" Seth asks.

"Yes!" you insist, whirling around. "Seth," you cup his cheek, "you always live for others, but it's your birthday! Let your loved ones shower you with affection today."

Seth's cheeks pinken at your intense declaration. "If you say so," he mumbles.

You kiss him quick. "You'll like it."

Taking his hand again, you hurry on. Canis Major's windows are only brightened by their blooming displays and the natural afternoon sunlight. The shop interior's lights are off. The front door handle jiggles in the lock, but you have a key. You open the door, take one step forward and two steps left.

"Wha—!" Seth yelps. Glittering blue ropes of magic shoot out and grab Seth by the wrists and ankles. He goes flying through the flower shop and straight up the stairs to the first floor. All according to plan.

You hum in victory as you dust off your trousers and lock the front door again. Without hurry, you shuffle your way upstairs. The door to the master bedroom is open, and you close and lock it for extra security. Nobody else needs to see your birthday boy bacchanal.

Sirius leans down and kisses you in greeting. "Hey," he says. "Good job bringing the brat."

"I'm not a brat!" Seth protests, but anything further is stopped by a gasp. Already naked, Harr Oswald-Silver sits on the sheeted bed and skims a feather over Seth's equally naked body. Your husband wriggles in a bid for escape, but he can't go far. His hands are already tied together and bound to the bed's metal headboard by a length of velvet rope. Sirius must have been the one who added the deep blue blindfold.

"Darling Harr," you praise. You relish the rare instance of his head being low enough for you to ruffle his midnight hair in greeting. He replies with a brief, almost chaste kiss. "Are you ready to torture with kindness?"

Harr nods and hands you the feather. It's a beautiful piece: a flashy peacock tail feather which glints sapphire and emerald seduction. You sit on Seth's left side, and Sirius sits on the right, holding a matching feather aloft. Together, you set to work.

During the war, Harr was a man feared. Children went to bed on the threat that the Joker would eat them otherwise. Knowing the man, you cannot, for the life of you, puzzle out how those stories started. He is gentleness incarnate. His fingers touch softly against Seth's skin; work him open with slow, slick reverence. He licks Seth's nipples with broad, flat strokes, unsatisfied until they both stand at attention. You and Sirius pass the feathers back and forth across Seth's torso, like a pair of lazy cats' tails. Goosebumps thrive. Muscles seize and relax. Seth sucks in uneven bursts of air, like he's swimming underwater.

"Please," Seth begs. His captured hands clench into fists, and his toes grip into the sheets. Those ropes might rub his wrists raw at this rate. "Harr."

You get the feeling that sex would take all afternoon if Harr had his way. As it is, Harr gives a low chuckle. His gray eye glances between you and Sirius. "Has he earned it, do you think?"

Sirius nuzzles into the hollow Seth's neck. "Give us a kiss, punk."

A red flush creeps out from under Seth's blindfold. He turns his face, and Sirius connects them together. They kiss for a breath, two breaths. Sirius is the one who tears away, and you replace his mouth with yours. Seth's lips are feverish and eager. When Seth moans, you back off, only to realize that Harr is in the process of slow penetration. Seth's feet scramble for purchase, and you don't figure out his plan until his legs are already around Harr's waist and pushing him in faster.

"Naughty," you chide and bite into Seth's neck. Hard.

Seth thrashes, but you hold on, sucking and snapping capillaries under your teeth. Sirius takes the peacock feathers away. Harr sets a reliable pace and steadily breaches your husband's ass. By agreement, nobody has touched Seth's cock, but it's practically standing upright. Harr refuses to let up. His tall, skinny body may not look as strong as Sirius' or Seth's, but strength is not all about muscle mass.

Your love mark purples a coin-size patch of skin. Take pride in the teeth marks. Seeing you're finished, Sirius snuggles up to make the other side match. Seth whines a pitiful sound. Minutes tick by, and Harr doesn't cease the easy pace. Sweat dews on his forehead, plasters his black hair to his scalp. His white skin is hot with effort.

When Sirius is satisfied, Harr changes position to balance on his elbows and kiss Seth. Even this little change makes Seth cry out in a mewling whimper. His wrist tendons bulge and relax against the handcuff knot. Harr kisses him deep, nibbles on his lips; shows off how good and sweet it is to kiss Seth Hyde. "Please," Seth begs again between affections. "Please."

With a grunt, Harr thrusts hard into Seth's ass and cums. The wizard shouts, and Seth flexes his core muscles so he can reach Harr's mouth, like swallowing the other man's pleasure can incite his own. It doesn't, as Seth's cock remains unattended. Sirius and you were following the plan, and too rapt in the sight of Harr and Seth besides.

Frustrated tears roll out from under the blue blindfold and down Seth's pink cheeks. Harr dismounts from his position. You help him into the adjoining master bathroom. "How are you feeling?" you ask.

Harr makes a little, secret smile. "Good."

You find a washcloth and wet it with warm water. "When we stormed the Magic Tower together, did you ever think we'd be here? Married swingers having a birthday sex party?"

Harr shakes his great black mane. "No, but I'm glad we are."

Mopping his stains, you clean Harr up. After you hang the washcloth to dry, Harr hugs you, and you automatically relax in his arms. The thrum of his heart is a steady comfort. Soft feelings of home, of safety, of prayers answered bloom like night flowers everywhere your skin touches his. He smells like magic, like purple sparks and crushed morning grass. The embrace is easy and effortless. You're not sad when he lets go, because you know you can always ask for more.

The master bedroom tableau that greets you and Harr is an entirely different scene. Like Harr, people can be so blinded by Sirius' reputation that they don't see the man underneath. To others, Sirius is paternal and patient. His intelligence, dedication, and keen observation orbit around others, and in their service. He is hyper-aware of his strength and authority, and dams their tide so he can handle people, situations, and objects as delicate as glass. These are excellent qualities, to be sure, but care-giving is neither the beginning nor ending of Sirius Oswald-Silver. Just like them, there is anger, frustration; the self, its desires.

And sometimes the self doesn't want to be gentle. Sometimes the self likes it rough. Happily, Seth also likes it rough, so two of the kindest, most caring men you know are pleased as punch to tear each other apart.

Sirius slams into Seth's ass so hard the bed shakes. Seth writhes. Another pounding, and the mattress scoots in the bedframe. "I can't—" Seth says. "Sirius, I—"

"Don't cum yet," Sirius grits through clenched teeth. He punctuates with rapid thrusts. The mattress springs shriek in protest, and Seth's face darkens vermilion with effort. You pad closer to better observe the fists clenched, the half-hidden abs tighten; the pre-cum weep.

"No!" Seth wails, as his cock disobeys. Hands or no hands, white spunk shoots out of him. Sirius milks it as long as he can, but when Seth goes shivering and quiet, he stops. He glances at you and Harr, and you shake your head. It's rest time.

Sirius dismounts. His still-hard cock drips with lube and Harr's seed. Tasty, but not your problem right now. While Harr attends his husband in the bathroom, you snuggle up and play with the edges to Seth's blindfold. Salty tears tracks crisscross his cheeks. When another tear leaks out, you catch it with the pad of a finger. "Hey," you say, soft. "Okay to untie you?"

Seth's affirmation sounds choked in snot. "Yeah."

If he wanted, Seth could escape these bonds easy. Basic safety demands he know. The ropes loosen and unfurl, and Seth's arms lay limp. You're the one takes a forearm and begins a massage. You work your way from the tendons to the hand. Press a kiss on the fading red ring of the wrist. Finish rubbing the tips of each finger before starting the whole process again on his right arm.

The rise and fall of Seth's ribs settle into an even rhythm. He clears his throat and sniffles. Eventually, he lifts the blindfold off his head. "Can I try again?"

You laugh. "You always reach for the impossible."

"Because I know nothing is impossible between us. [heart emoji]" he replies without missing a beat. He lifts the blindfold off and blinks in the light. His brown eyes are clear and lovely. "Hello there, sweetie 🎶."

"Hello 🎶"

"You're still dressed?"

"I was distracted," you laugh and pet Seth's blue hair. "You're so pretty that I forget everything else."

You hear an obvious groan from the bathroom. The boys can entertain themselves nicely. Seth boops the flat of your palm with his nose. "Let's have a cat nap while they finish."

"Is this a command from the birthday girl?" you tease.

"Absolutely ⭐️."

You lay down on your side facing away from Seth. He snuggles in, wraps his arm around you, and nuzzles in to breathe the scent of your hair. "I love this," he murmurs. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Too keyed up, you fail to fall asleep, but feeling Seth relax around you is its own type of magic. The warm thrum of his body sends peace into your heart. The sounds in the bathroom paint a thrilling picture of domestic bliss. A dream-like contentment settles over the pair of you. Maybe it would have lasted forever if Sirius hadn't touched Seth's shoulder and asked, "Are you awake?"

Seth rolls over onto his back and makes a "mmn" noise of affirmation. He pulls Sirius into a kiss, which deepens into a make out session. You enjoy your front row seat. Skin flushed with heat, Sirius and Harr look freshly toweled off from a shower. The matching His & His boxers make a smile.

"You're still sticky," Sirius says, breaking off the kiss. He rubs his nose against Seth's and smiles. "How are you feeling?"

"Good ⭐️," Seth says. "Except for one glaring error."

Sirius arches a brow. "Which is?"

"We've left Alice out!" Seth exclaims. "I want them."

You can't stop the grin, and Harr huffs quiet laughter.

"You're up for it? You don't have to push yourself."

"I'm fine," you reassure him, just in case.

Seth rolls to face you in the most dramatic fashion possible. "Don't lie to me, Alice!" He smashes your lips together, presses with teeth and tongue. He grabs your leg and lifts it upward to cradle his hipbone. You feel growing hardness against your arousal. "You're aching."

That is true. You've been watching your husband get railed all afternoon, and you would love a turn. Smooth as a dance done a hundred times, you guide Seth on his back and straddle his waist. Like attendant angels, Harr and Sirius arrange themselves against Seth's sides. Sirius slides his mused hair back from his forehead while Harr's fingers creep downward to perform, long rough pulls on Seth's cock. You focus on kissing: on the taste of his mouth, the rose flower sweat of his skin, the suck of his tongue.

You're prepared well before this moment. Seth's cock slips in easy and you immediately set a moderate pace. Your slow snap, pull of hips is rewarded with ankles hooked around your back. Arousal simmers to a boil inside you. Your body sparks alive. You grip and dig fingernails into his waist. Harr and Sirius hold Seth's hands in firm grips—a gentle restriction for the gentle love you're making.

Pulses of liquid pleasure bolt through you with every move. Seth pants and watches you with hunger. Fingers still laced in Seth's, Sirius scoots forward and bites a nipple. Seth moans and squirms and arches. Harr stokes your fire with strokes to your sex, adding kindling to inferno.

All the sensations and emotions of the afternoon coalesce in the mind's eye, and your orgasm, hard. You slam rapidly into Seth, chasing feelings. He cums with a cry and a jolt.

Instantly, Sirius and Harr are on you, showering praise and pets and kisses. Seth receives the same treatment. An odd sense of triumph whirls through your heart. With a smile, you kiss each partner back. When you move off Seth, Sirius sweeps you up in his arms and kisses your forehead. "Your turn for a shower, I think."

Harr carries Seth like a bride right behind you. "Sirius pre-made dinner. We just have to heat it up. You'll like it."

"I'm excited! You really made a feast for me?" The bathroom is very crowded, and Sirius lets you slip down to standing in the tub.

"Of course, sweetie," you say to Seth. Harr cradles him to his chest, making Seth the perfect height for a kiss. "Happy Birthday."

#summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge #summer of smut content creation challenge #ikemen series #ikemen revolution #ikerev #seth hyde #ikerev seth #a03 #text post #harr silver #ikerev harr #sirius oswald #ikerev sirius

[aarcanechaoss]

Hey can you do a Higuchi × Chuuya smut 👀

I really love the Dazai × Higuchi × Chuuya one you did❤

Why of course I can ~ hope you don’t mind but if you checked out Carnival Day I’ll be stealing that same tattoo for this 👀

Also I’m sorry this one feels like it sucks

And another rec Stress Relief by rchimedes

Warnings: SMUT

Chuuya Nakahara knew Ichiyo Higuchi worked harder than most, knew she deserved much better treatment then she was given.

He wanted to rip away her clothes as she sat across from him in the meeting room. Wanted to take her here on the table before everyone. Wanted to pull her golden hair from its bun and tangle it between his fingers. Ever since that night he’d been practically insatiable and he knew it, she knew it as she gave him that sweet knowing smile that drove him wild.

Their shoes tapped against one another as she creeped forward into the meeting table, reaching her foot to climb his calf in a soothing motion before coming back down.

He didn’t know if that made it better or worse.

Chuuya wanted to be intoxicated by her again, have her scent soak into his skin as he took her again and again, over, and over. He signalled for her to follow him once the meeting was over, having to stop himself from resting his hand along her spine where that tattoo of a cherry blossom branch lied.

God that did things to him.

“Where do you think you are going?” Akutagawa questions as he begins to guide her away, towards his office.

“Nakahara wished to speak with me privately. Is something the matter Akutagawa?” The blonde questioned, her head tilting ever so adorably.

“No. Don’t forget you have paperwork due later.”

“I’ve already done it.”

Akutagawa froze for a moment at her tone, she’d never spoken to him like that before, never sounded so flat with her words.

“If you don’t mine Akutagawa I need to steal her away before I forget what I need her for.” A lie. He couldn’t forget, wouldn’t… not when he was about to do something so sinful, so unholy to her in his very own office.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Chuuya’s door locked with a snap once they were inside, no way anyone could disrupt this, not when he needed her so bad.

“You are insatiable.” Her arms wrapped around his shoulders as she practically purred into his ear.

“Careful pretty girl.” He said.

“Me? Careful? Shouldn’t I be saying that to you? You haven’t kept your hands off me since this started between us.” She laughed; it sounded like liquid velvet. Warm and ever so inviting.

His hands travelled her sides, squeezing her hips before moving to place his hands in her back pocket.

“You’re irresistible, can’t believe no one else gets to have you.” He smiles, pulling her close enough for her to feel the hardened length.

“You could have me at your apartment later?” She queries, teasing as she does, fingers now playing with loose red strands of hair.

“Now I could just… order you to do something about it couldn’t I? After all you did this to me. You teasing vixen, riling me up before the meeting.”

“I did no such thing.” She said before connecting her lips to his.

The kiss was intense, heated and filled with lust leaving nothing but want between them. Chuuya’s hat was quickly thrown across the room followed very closely by both of their jackets as he guided her towards his desk.

As they pulled away he grinned, oh he had the most perfect idea.

“What have you concocted Chuuya?”

“Only the best for you Chiyo.” He laughed pressing a softer kiss to her lips.

His gloves were off, placed on his desk close enough should he need them… and he just might today.

Bare hands traversed the white cotton blouse, pulling at the buttons and leaving soft flesh in its wake. He froze once he reached her chest, breasts covered by the prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.

Red, she’d worn red… he’d mention barely a week ago that he loved how she looked in red, from dresses to heels to lipstick now lingerie.

“My pretty girl says I’m insatiable.” He laughs, a low rumble in his chest as his hands grope and massage the soft mounds.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Ichiyo Higuchi was beautiful. From her sun golden hair to her perfectly shaped lips. From delicate, soft unmarked skin and breasts to die for (in his personal opinion that is). Her stomach was soft yet toned and the curves of her waist and thigh practically plagued Chuuya’s mind at all times- he loved seeing beneath the suit.

He had to say, as he flipped her over was her back. Perfectly decorated by that cherry blossom branch starting from her tailbone, stretching up towards her neck. The smaller twigs and sticks jutting out ever so slightly to show the beautiful blossoms and petals.

It was perfect on her, it suited her so well and he doesn’t know what it is but he just… he wants to devour her whole every time he sees it.

Now with her pants discarded (leaving her in only that lacy deep red lingerie) Chuuya couldn’t help but moan out just that little bit as he traced that tattoo, from the base of her spine to the nape of her neck.

His fingers reached her hair, tugging it from its bun only for him to tug her up slightly. Having her leant over his desk gave him such a powerful feeling.

His other hand found out just how wet she was, soaking the thin fabric and all from his touch, all from his kisses. He couldn’t understand why no one else wanted her.

But he wouldn’t complain when she moaned his name. He wouldn’t complain as he pulled the soaked lace aside to feel her. He wouldn’t complain as he slid himself into her- there was no time for foreplay whilst they were at work.

The shift of his hips made a low moan leave her lips as she gripped onto her wooden support. The desk shook with each harsh movement, each harsh thrust of his hips against hers.

A high pitched whine fell from her lips as he hit that spot that made her see stars- she slapped a hand over her mouth as she did, worried that someone could have heard.

He had a plan for that.

Pressing her down flat against the desk he hadn’t dared leave her warmth as he placed a discarded glove between her lips. Any noise she made now would be very, very muffled.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Alas as the two mafioso’s took their time exploring the feeling of his desk on her skin they practically jumped out of their skin as a knock echoed throughout the office.

“Mr Nakahara, Mori would like to speak to you when available.” A voice called from behind the door.

And with a bite and one last deep thrust he couldn’t help but collapse against her sweat soaked body.

“Yeah be there soon:” Chuuya announced, albeit sounding breathless as he did.

And alas their moment to themselves was over.

Ichiyo Higuchi looked beautiful splayed out beneath him and he never, never wanted that image to go away.

He’s also not quite sure if he feels like sharing her ever again.

#bsd #Bungou stray dogs #bsd smut #Bungou stray dogs smut #Higuchi smut #chuuya nakahara smut

[nurselaurenatl]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: BLACK HALO Miramar Red Velvet Ruched Midi Dress.

[violettduchess]

hii i saw you’re opening requests for tis the season for love! may i request leon with prompt two? thank you so much :3

A/N: Here you are @leonscape !

A fic for the Tis the Season for Love CCC hosted by @voltage-vixen and @xxsycamore

Leon x Reader

Word Count: 651

The salon is bathed in the warm, flickering orange and golds of firelight, highlighting the dark wood and deep reds of the velvet furniture. You are curled up on the end of the couch, one hand holding a small volume of recently translated Tanzanite poetry. The other is running a continuous path through the lustrous jungle of Leon’s rich, chocolate brown hair. He’s laying, long limbs stretched out on the sofa, golden eyes on the fire, listening to you read out loud. He’s not really paying much attention to the words. He just enjoys the sound of your voice, the rise and fall of it, your inflection and intonation, as you earnestly read poems describing feelings of love and loss and loneliness. You’ve reached the final poem and read the last line:

“The indifferent have only one soul, but when you love, you have two.” 

If sighs could have colors, yours would be the softest, most romantic shades of pink and lavender. What a beautiful collection, you think dreamily as you lay the now finished volume down on the end table, lost for a moment in that ephemeral place that a writer leads you to with their words, a place that dissipates like stardust as reality slowly seeps back in.

“The emotions the author manages to convey, the allusions and imagery, the way they describe the depths of grief and the heights of love….” you trail off, your mind still filled with words and phrases and images as you reach for the cup of hot chocolate next to the closed book. “What did you think?”, you ask, glancing down at the head in your lap. No response. The fingers that are still combing his hair stop and then playfully tweak one of the locks that’s sticking straight up. 

“Oi!” he exclaims as he rolls onto his back, head still pillowed on your thigh, his gaze traveling from the firelight to your face. 

“Were you listening at all?” 

His lips curl into a sheepish grin. “Something about love….and two souls?”

The roll of your eyes has him laughing softly, a sound as warm and fulfilling as the cup of hot chocolate you lift to your lips. Yves never disappoints you think as you take a sip of the velvety sweet drink. 

Suddenly the head that was on your lap lifts as Leon pushes himself up, eyes shining now with interest.

“You still have some left?” His own empty mug sits in solitude next to the volume of poetry, empathizing with all the heartbreak within its pages

“Had.” You tip your cup to show him you’ve drained it to the very last drop. 

He tilts his head, at first dismayed by this turn off events, but instead of succumbing to the sadness of there being no more, he is struck by some divine inspiration. 

“I know a way I can still have some.” And then he is leaning towards you, his large hands cupping your face. And his mouth is on yours, parting your lips, a deep, soul-scorching kiss that would normally be kiss number five or six in line and not number one. But he wants a taste of that hot chocolate and will do whatever it takes to get it.

He kisses you breathless. He chases every single bit of chocolatey essence that clings to your lips, your tongue. By the time he is done, you’re left dizzy, your heart spinning wildly in your chest and your mind as melted as the chocolate in your drink.

“We must tell Yves,” he murmurs, “how much we enjoyed the hot chocolate.” You’re both sliding down the couch, his body covering yours in a way that sends a promising heat cartwheeling through you.

“Oh we will,” you answer, wrapping your arms around his neck, admiring the gold of his eyes, the flame in them miniatures of the roaring fireplace. “In the morning.”

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @alixennial @alexxavicry @queengiuliettafirstlady @rhodolitesrose @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @redheadkittys @dear-mrs-otome @firestar-otomeobsessed @curious-skybunny @leotoru @kpop-and-otome @writingwhimsey @mxrmaid-poet @silver-dahlia @wendolrea @otomefoxystar @neoqueen-sailorvirgo @myonlyjknight @queen-dahlia @aceuuuuu @scorchieart

#ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri leon #ikemen leon #leon dompteur #leon x reader #tis the season for love content creation challenge #christmas fluff #fluff fic #ikemen fanfic #ikemen fanfiction #otome fanfic #violettwrites

[secondstar09]

Ext. Christmas Tree Farm - Twilight

Children dressed in winter outfits, playing on a playground made of ice and snow. Horses pulling sleighs across the tree farm, and carols sing next to a shop. A elfs village is next to the play ground leading into the entrance of Nick's House in red and gold.

Int. Throne room- twilight

Red velvet carpet with gold trim leading to a Gold and Ruby throne, with Emerald Green cushin and backing. Elves in tuxedos wearing black sunglasses are standing next to the chair.

Prancer, a tall, pale man wearing a red and green suit, and black gloves. Having a short snow white beard with silver, short silver hair, strong slender, and handsome. He walks into the room with women.

Vixen, short, pale, women wearing a light brown dress with a dark brown fur jacket and silver heels. Hair in light, curly pony tail dropping over her face.

Prance- glances at the elves

Dialog: [a soft, sharp tone] leave us.

Elves in unison: Yes, Lord Prancer.

-leaves room, entering Vixen and Prancer.

Prancer: [softer tone, looking at Vixen] You look lovelier than ever on this night.

Vixen: [grins but cover quickly] Prance, you brought me to the throne room to tell me this?

Prancer: [whinces slightly] No, Vix, I brought you here to confess my love for you.

Vixen: [turns away] That's not fair, [Prancer coming closer behind her unknownly] Donner and I [she begins to trail off, but continues] are taking the throne, I'm the beloved princess.

Prancer: [almost behind her, angry holding a silver dager] Yeah, see, I was afraid you were going to say this Vixen.[Vixen turning around] You little bitch. [Driving the dagger into her gut, twisting] Donner is already dead. [Prancer kisses her forehead, pulling the dagger backout, swiping it clean]

Int. Side- throne room door opens

Entering a tall, striking pale woman in a black short party dress with red heels. Face pale as snow, lips red as candy. Hair long deep curly blond hair and light pink eyes.

Heels click against the marble floor towards Prancer.

Int. Center room

Prancer turning around, Vixens body is slumped over.

Prancer: [conts.] My ture love. Cupid.

Cupid: [walking up] My king, [kissing him deep, he wraps his arm around her. They seperate.] it's done. [Chime bells ring jiggle bells in the distance]

Prancer: Very good [his voice is joyous. He dips a finger under her soft chin] Very good, good girl.

Cupid: [lights up and giggles] only for my king.

Prancer sits in the throne, and Cupid sits on his lap. They kiss and he feels her body. They begin to get hot and heavy.

Cupid: [whispers], please.

Prancer: [sinister] not here. Thus, our kingdom waits.

#scriptwriting #screenplay #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #fantasy #holiday #christmas

[susanoppedexpertmoon]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Charades Pirate Vixen Black Velvet Coat.

[styleavenue8]

Velvet Vixen: How to Rock a Red Velvet Jumpsuit with Glamour