#persephone!reader

No guards stood at the gates. No crowd heralded your arrival. Only silence greeted you – and him. Aaron, the king of the dead, or as mortals called him – Hades, stood just beyond the threshold of his throne room, framed by the cold, flickering light of torches that burned with an unnatural blue flame. He was like a statue carved from midnight, his broad shoulders squared, his stance rigid. His dark suit was immaculate yet severe, absorbing the light around him, leaving only his eyes and their deep, fathomless pools of shadow.

He watched you as though your presence was the only thing anchoring him to this plane, as though the memory of you had been the sole force keeping him upright through the long months of spring and summer.

The shadows around him pulsed as you moved closer, swelling like dark waves lapping at the shore, coiling and retreating as if they, too, yearned to touch you. Yet his face remained a mask of control, his jaw was set, lips steady and eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that silenced every other force.

He did not move toward you. He never did. He waited, as he always had, with a patience that was both devotion and torment.

You crossed the distance in silence, your bare feet whispering against the stone. Words were unnecessary here. Every glance, every breath between you carried the weight of truths already understood, truths carved into the very fabric of this place. The air grew heavier as you approached, charged with the unspoken, with the ache of reunion.

When you stopped before him, close enough to feel the faint heat of his company, you saw the tension that thrummed through him. His hands, gloved in black leather, were clenched at his sides as if restraining a force too vast to unleash. Aaron was not a man ruled by desire; he was governed by discipline, by the iron will that held this realm together.

Yet tonight, beneath that unyielding exterior, something trembled, a fracture in the bedrock of his composure, a quiet plea that only you could hear.

His voice, when it came, was low, rough as gravel worn smooth by time. “You’re thinner,” he said, the words carrying a weight that made the air shiver.

You tilted your head, a small, knowing smile ghosting across your lips. “You’ve memorized my shape so well?”

His gaze didn’t waver, didn’t soften, but it burned with something deeper than longing. “I remember everything,” he said, his voice although steady was laced with an ache that echoed through the hollows of your chest. “Every curve. Every breath. Every silence you leave behind.”

Your hand rose, hesitant yet compelled, fingers brushing the sharp line of his jaw. It was not a touch of possession but of reverence, as if you were reaching for something sacred, something you had no right to claim yet could not resist.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t close his eyes, didn’t lean into your touch. He stood resolute, letting your fingers trace the contours of his face, letting your presence etch itself into the marrow of his being.

“You always watch me like that,” you murmured, your voice soft as the petals you’d left behind in the world above. “Like I’m a star you’re afraid will burn out if you look away.”

“You do,” he said, the words slipping from him, raw and unguarded. “Every year, you leave, and I am left to count the moments until you return.”

The admission hung between you, as heavy as the chains that bound the souls in this realm. His hand rose, the black leather of his glove was cool against your cheek. He never touched you bare unless you asked, as if he feared his unshielded touch might taint you, might bind you to this place too tightly. But the intent behind the gesture, the weight of his devotion, the quiet worship in his fingers, it was warmer than any sunlight you’d known above.

“Come closer,” he whispered, his voice fracturing like a stone under pressure. “Let me… let me hold you.”

Your breath caught, not in fear but in wonder. He never asked. Not like this. Not with such raw need trembling in his voice, it felt like a chorus of longing that had sung itself hoarse in the months you were gone. You stepped into him, and his arms enveloped you, carefully, as if you were a relic too fragile to hold too tightly. One gloved hand cradled the back of your head, his thumb brushing the tender skin beneath your ear, while the other pressed flat against your spine, anchoring you to him. He did not kiss you yet. Instead, he inhaled, deep and shuddering, as if your scent could rewrite the laws of eternity.

“Let me kiss you,” he murmured, his lips so close to your skin that the words felt like a brush of feathers. “Let me rest in you, just for this moment.”

Your throat tightened. Those words, they were not his alone. They were the echo of the wind in your springtime fields, the pull of your heart when you lay among the flowers, half alive without him. You pressed yourself closer, your hands fisting in the lapels of his coat, anchoring yourself to the only thing that had ever felt like home.

The world above was vibrant, blooming, alive, but no flower, no sunrise, had ever held you like this. No light had ever burned for you the way his silence did.

“I forget the sound of your voice when I’m gone,” you whispered against his shoulder, your breath warm against the fabric. “But I hear you in every shadow, in every peaceful moment.”

He exhaled a slow, ragged breath that seemed to unburden centuries from his chest. His lips pressed to the crown of your head, featherlight, a gesture so tender it felt like a vow. “I see you in everything,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “In the dark. In the stars. Even when they fade.”

In that moment, there were no titles, no crowns. No King of the Underworld, no Goddess of Spring. Only Aaron, a man aching to hold you for one more heartbeat than he was allowed, and you, a woman trembling under the weight of his devotion to you.

You lifted your face, and his lips found yours, a kiss that carried the weight of eons. It was not hungry, not desperate, but sorrowful, reverent as if he were memorizing the shape of your lips, the taste of your breath, savoring you before the cycle turned again.

You kissed him back, falling through time, through stone, through the endless ache of longing. The darkness of the Underworld had always been your home when he was in it, and in his arms, you felt whole again, despite what your mother might want.

When you parted, his voice was rough, pressed against your cheek. “Stay.”

It was not a command but a prayer.

You couldn’t answer, not yet. The taste of him lingered on your lips, a sacred hymn that alone could carry you through the months above. Instead, you kissed the corner of his mouth, your hands trembling as they threaded through his dark hair.

“I’ll leave again,” you said, your voice breaking.

“I know,” he replied, his eyes steady, unflinching, even as they burned with pain.

“But I’ll return.”

“I will wait.”

You pressed your forehead to his chest, and the air around you shifted, a subtle stirring that carried no scent of flowers, no echo of stars. Yet in the folds of your dress, in the rhythm of your shared breath, a sacred melody wove itself into the silence. It sang of wings long forgotten, of tears turned holy, of love that endured even in the absence of light.

And there, beneath the earth, you let yourself drift into his embrace, if only for a little while. So he could hold you. So he could carry the memory of you through the long months ahead.

So he could survive the parting.

Again.

In a grove in Hellas, long, long ago… 

Before you opened your eyes, you already knew what you would see. Slowly, as sleep fell away from you, like the warmth of a blanket being pulled away from your body, a heavy darkness giving way to light, you could see a warm, egg yolk glow behind your eyelids. The sun had cut a path through your windowpane, and now it cast itself like a spell, masking its burn over your face. When you opened your eyes, you would squint through your lashes, looking up through the green mottled leaves, neon, blinding, of the twisted yew outside of your window. You could smell your mother’s bread baking in her old dutch oven, hints of oregano and pepper wafting through your room, bringing the warmth of the hearth with them. You could almost taste the crispy crust, roasted to perfection, protecting the soft, textured middle. 

Finally, you peeked between your lashes, and before you, your self-made dream came true. The sun filtered in through your glass a little less bright than what you had imagined, but the greens were there, and they reminded you that today was your favorite day: the arrival of Spring. 

“Sephie! Are you awake?”

Your mother’s sing-song voice fluttered down the hall and tucked itself through the crack of your bedroom door. She always knew when you woke up, and although you’d never questioned it, you had to admit it was uncanny. You chalked it up to the wonders of motherhood. She seemed to know every other thing about you, so why question it?

“Yes, Mom. Coming!” You called back, your own voice a little stronger, a little less like a delicate lark, a little more like a robin. 

You were very much a late bloomer, still living with your mother at almost twenty years of age, especially when most of the girls in your village had suitors or proposals by sixteen. But, you didn’t let it bother you. As your mother was ready to remind you, the thread of your life was your own, and you would follow its path until the end, whether you wanted to or not. If Lachesis had measured your life out to be this way, then that was that. Why question it?

You pulled on your robes, woven on your family loom of the finest silk threads. You had begged your mom to add a tight spiral of cyclamen along the hem, the flowers so familiar, their pink heads watching you as you followed your daily path to the river. So, she had insisted that you try. You were well enough a woman now, and more than skilled enough to craft your own clothes. And you had; it had been easier than you thought, and you added a few glass beads in that same heart-shaped petal to the tips of the cord of your belt. 

You owned no looking glass, but you never noticed its absence. There was so much more to do than to stare at something you couldn’t change. Focus on what you can do, your mother’s voice haunted your mind, not on what is already done. Besides, your mother insisted that you were beautiful, so why question it?

“Here, my darling,” your mom tapped you under your chin, handing you a cloth satchel full of bread, fruit, seeds, and dried meats, “Before you go to the river, please check on the well. It should have clear water for you to fill this skin. Fill it again on your way home. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t, Momma. I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.”

You were out of the door and heading down the hill to the well before you knew it, the feel of the soft grass comforting your heels, cold and damp from the morning dew. The village below you was coming alive, its people tending to their new lambs, planting seeds in the black, fertile soil, carrying buckets of water to and from the olive groves, pruning the dead branches away from the new growth on each branch. Their bustle and laughter as they worked together made you long to live in town. But, your mother had insisted that the town and its people would just be a distraction, and you’d never experienced such a thing; why question it?

When you approached the well, you were alone. You let your hands trace their way along the rough, grey stones, feeling the familiar edge, reaching for the thick rope to pull up the bucket. The worn hemp gave way, and the echo of the old wooden bucket hitting the sides of the well rang out like shrouded bells. You reached for the handle of the bucket, pulling it up to the rim, carefully filling your waterskin, making sure not to waste a drop. You used the rest to wash your face and hands, letting the cool water soak into your cheeks, adding moisture back to your body after a long sleep. 

Suddenly, your eyes darted up to the treeline just beyond the well’s clearing. You thought you saw a shadow that stretched just a little too long, shaped just a little too wrong… but when you studied the dark spaces between the trunks, there was nothing but lush overgrowth. You packed your waterskin and tossed the bucket back into the water; you were eager to get down to the river. The light always played tricks on you in this glade, so why question it?

You walked quite a ways through the valley, using your fingers and the softness of your touch to coax the flowers to bloom and grow as you let your hand fondle its way through the tall grass. When you reached your river, you savored the sight. The way that it curved into a deep ox bow was your favorite thing. It was as if the river had carved out a small, circular stage just for you. In it, you worked on your crafts, practicing growing buds from seeds, trees from roots, ivy from the palm of your hand. Then, you sent it out, down the river towards town, making sure the village was well-shaded, well-fed, and well-protected from the elements. 

It was hard work, and you always slept after a long afternoon of using your magic, but your mother always said that no one else would be able to do a better job than you, so you kept at it, and it was the one thing you never questioned. 

This time, when you woke up from your nap, you knew you weren’t alone. As you sat up, you looked around, thinking that a striped kri-kri or a golden jackal would be nibbling at the food in your pack. But, sitting with his legs crossed, was a man dressed only in a dark blue chilton, the shoulder of which hung loosely around his waist as if he were a farmer who had been toiling in the field. He was no farmer. Not with those inhuman eyes of ice fire, pale and bright, glowing although the sun was at his back. His body was that of a giant, muscle-bound and heavy, full of power just rippling beneath the surface. He reminded you of the well. How deep did his strength flow? His beard and chest were furry but well-groomed, just like that of a nobleman. 

You greeted him, apologizing for your slumber,

“Good day, sir. Forgive my sleeping. I was just tending to my flowers, and I must have dozed off.”

“No trouble,” his smile came to him easily, and you enjoyed it, basking in it, “I enjoy watching you work. It is a gift to see it up close.”

He reached out his hand and plucked one of your most vibrant hyacinths from its stem, cradling your art in his huge hands. 

“Beautiful,” he purred, speaking of the flower but looking at you. 

“Thank you, sir. Can I offer you some bread or fruit from my pack? I carried clean water from the well this morning.”

“How generous you are,” his smile showed his straight, large teeth this time, and he tucked your own flower behind your ear, letting the delicate petals tickle your sensitive flesh.

You prepared a small piece of bread for him, decorating it with nuts and juicy lobes of fruit that you had carefully peeled with your hands, tearing off a piece of dried meat for him to try as well. You ate with him in companionable silence, watching him as he chewed. Whereas the kri-kri would have greedily gobbled up the bread from your palm, this man seemed unsurprised by it. What was a delicacy for some of Gaia’s creatures was a mere appetizer for others. But, it may be that he had much finer fare at home, so why question it?

“Do you live near to this glade, sir?” You asked, hoping to learn more about your handsome stranger. 

His hands peeled the delicate pith from the citrus lobe you had given him, expertly trimming it as if he had done it for a thousand mornings, knowing exactly how hard or easy he needed to pull the flesh for it to yield, feeding it into his mouth in a wet, juicy bite, letting the sweet nectar soak into his beard and become sticky. 

He chewed slowly, eyeing you carefully as he did, seemingly in no rush to answer your question. So, you tacked on another one, impatiently, 

“What should I call you?”

“I have been called many names,” he spoke, looking down at his hands, staring at his open palms as if to divine some sort of future before his eyes shot back to yours, pinning you where you sat.

“Hm,” you smiled, inching closer, pretending to get a better look at him, studying him like a statue at a temple, “You do not look like an Akakios, nor an Eirenaios…”

“No,” he chuckled, his laugh rolling like a volcanic crag inside of his throat, “I should think not.”

“I cannot imagine naming you Melanthios, though it fits your face,” you giggled.

“I’m not sure I appreciate that, little petal.”

His laugh was still jovial, so you pushed him further, 

“Perhaps Kleisthenes. Your strength is apparent, as is your status. Surely, that must fit you.”

You leaned back, biting off another chunk of bread, saving the crust for last, satisfied with your naming ritual.

He shook his head, 

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s very brief, or at least much less trouble than Kleisthenes.”

“Bion, then.”

“Mm,” he frowned a bit at the edges of his smile, “Quite the opposite in essence, I’m afraid.”

“Perhaps you are a foreigner. One of Troy, or Rome, even? Something brief, like John.”

“I am foreign enough to this land, so I suppose John is close enough,” he sighed, allowing you to finally take your win. 

You hadn’t realized how close you had drawn yourself into him. You were now near enough to smell the oils on his skin: laurel, salt, and something akin to tarnished silver. His hand reached out to touch the curls of your hair, carefully braided by your mother, entwined with small flowers and ivy stems to keep it off of your neck. But, after your nap, one lock had escaped and was now being delicately twirled in this man’s immense fingers. 

“And what should I call you, little flower? Marjoram is too serious for you. Iris, not serious enough.”

“Persephone,” you offered, unwilling to force him to endure the same naming torture you had just gone through. 

“Ah!” He gasped, leaning toward your face as if seeing you for the first time, “Persephone.”

Then, before you could even know what was happening to you, your lips were tasting his. He was cradling you in his arms, holding your limp body against his bare chest, the gold of his necklaces and armbands warm from his body heat as they pressed into your skin. He was kissing you, moving his mouth against yours, forcing your jaw to yield to him, to take his tongue into the hollow of your cheeks, to suck the citrus juice from it, the memory of his food still fresh on the muscle. 

You had never been kissed before, even though you had practiced on two of your fingers held tightly together, watching lovers sneak up to the well on hot days of work to do to each other what you longed for someone to do to you. It was so much more satisfying to feel another’s lips move against your own, nothing like the static, chaste practice you’d tried to mimic. 

Only now, after you were left gasping, feeling his hands wander along the edges of your chilton, his fingers beginning to dig into the loose gaps in the fabric, did you question whether you should be kissing this man or not. But, it felt too good to stop. 

John, or whoever he was, pulled away for a moment, and his eyes seemed to study your mouth, inspecting your plump, swollen lips as if something was wrong. You wrapped your hands around his neck to steady yourself, and he lay you back, letting your head be supported by the plush grasses beneath you. He spoke to you in a hushed whisper, even though no one was around for miles, 

“I have been watching you, Persephone. I see you growing your lush gardens, creating a world full of life, all for me to take. And I come back every autumn, when the sun is shy and the sky is dark, just to inspect all of the gifts you have given me,” he kissed you again, his hand finally snaking its way under the shoulder of your robes, peeling it down slowly to reveal your full breasts to the open air, “And I eat them up. All of them, and I take them home. I’ve been keeping them for you. All of your treasures from years past. They’re still there for you to see.”

Then, before you could ask him what he meant, his mouth latched onto the dark nipple of your breast, suckling at it like a babe. And then, very much not like a babe. Like something else. Like a wolf digging the marrow from a bone. Like an otter clawing at a clam, slurping up the tender meat inside. 

And then, he stopped. He sat up, holding you by the shoulders and helping you sit up with him, fixing your top so that you were covered again, dizzy and reeling from his attention, the wet skin of your aching nipples sticking to the silk fabric of your gown. 

“Sir, I…”

“Come with me, love,” he held out his hand, “Don’t you want to meet your old friends?”

You didn’t know what to say, but he seemed so friendly. There was a dark, twisted piece of wort inside of you, growing and twining itself around your belly that made you want to see if he might put his mouth on you again. It had been so lovely… Besides, you very much missed your old creations. You remembered hundreds and hundreds of seasons of creations you had made, trees and plants, fruits and flowers. It would be wonderful to be reminded of all of the things you had brought into the world. If he had kept them for you, it may even be rude to refuse his hospitality. He seemed so sure, so why question it?

So, you took his hand, and he led you through the earth, ripping at the dirt like a heavy veil, marching down into the darkness, leading you step after step down a winding, rocky staircase. Above your head, you saw the last bit of a ruby-colored sun, setting in the distance, illuminating the ceiling of roots and fungus that hung above you as you delved further into his depths. 

Then, your heart skipped a beat. You saw your river again, her wine-dark waters now black, curling in that same ox bow pattern, cutting the land in half. On one bank, the souls of the living waited to be ferried across, and on the other, fields and fields of your own flowers, frozen in time, neither growing nor dead, shrouded in darkness in the grey soil of the Underworld. 

He led you onward, towards his blue, gleaming castle, all of its walls made of shining glass, distorting the world outside, and concealing the one within. You marveled at the wide door, its ebon gate the only iron you could see, and all of the castle guards were the dead. Their lifeless eyes gray and cloudy, set inside of gaunt, bony faces, unseeing, unfeeling. You did not fear them, even though you were sure you were meant to. You knew them. You had made the food that fed them while they were alive. You had grown the trees and bushes that had sheltered them when they lay beneath your boughs, exhausted from their labor or their warfare. Who was afraid of an old friend?

Then, you watched your companion climb the long stair up to the throne of Hades, for that is who he was after all, and he sat on its plush seat, motioning for you to sit in an equally-crafted chair beside him. There was no difference between the two thrones. His was not higher, nor was it more elaborate. So, you sat, waiting to see what Hades wanted to show you. 

A delightful processional began, and you spotted some of your first flowers being brought to you on pedestals and pillows, you ooh’d and ahh’d at them, sharing stories and listening to Hades tell you all of his tales of how he brought them here to keep. How he’d waited so long for you to come and join him here, to rule in the Underworld beside him as its queen. 

“What do you think, love? My people are desperate for more of your creations. You are the only one who reminds them of home. They see your trees and your flowers, your fish and your fruits, and their souls finally know peace. Be my queen, rule beside me, help me put these souls to rest here in Elysium.”

“I am still a maid, sir,” you told him, “My mother is the one who would make that choice for me.”

He looked at you confused,

“You are a goddess most powerful. There is no one who can make choices for you. Even I am no match for your magic. I cannot bloom these fields.”

“When I return home, I will consult her wisdom, and she will help us marry.”

“Very well,” he sighed, “Perhaps you will at least allow me to show you the same hospitality as you have shown me. There is a feast that awaits you in my chambers. Will you join me, petal?”

You had no excuse. How could you refuse him the same thing you had provided. After dinner, you would return home and tell your mother about this handsome suitor.

You followed him from the throne room and entered his chambers, sitting on a wide lounge where platters of meat and fruit and honey in wide bowls waited for you to dig into them. You did not shy away now that you were in the comfort of his rooms, letting Hades sit beside you, as close as he could, feeding you berries and sweetmeats from his hands, dipping his fingers into your lips and letting you suck them clean, laughing and joking with you. 

He had done a poor job of tying your robe back onto your shoulder, and it kept falling down. Finally, when you were about to adjust it again, he stopped you, pulling it down even further to hang with the cord of your belt, letting your breasts hang free upon your ribs, heavy and full, sensitive from his earlier ministrations. 

“C’mere, love. Lay back and let me feed you. You must be so tired from your work today,” he murmured in your ear, allowing you to lay your back across his chest, his legs spread wide to allow you to sit between them.

You did as he bade, letting him feed you grapes dipped in honey, delicious fish and mussels, crab and octopus still cold and fresh. He ate, too, feeding you sometimes from his own mouth, bending to kiss you with sweet bites between his teeth. 

Then, when you had both had your fill, he used his hands to rub your sore muscles, easing the tension in your neck, down your shoulders, and then finally, he stopped,

“Alright, love. We should bring you back to Demeter. I’m sure she is waiting.”

“No,” you protested, ignoring the fact that he knew your mother’s name, “I mean… I thought we could stay a bit longer. I’m so full; a journey would be too arduous right now.”

“Oh?” He returned to petting you, letting his hands trace just outside of your breasts, fingers skating through your underarms and then up along the thin skin of your neck, “How should we occupy our time, my love?”

“Just… like this,” you let your hands wander to his strong thighs, massaging down his knees and calves, admiring the muscles there. 

“If that’s what you want, my love, then you shall have it. All that you want shall be yours,” his tone was dark in a way you had never heard from another person, but you felt so good, so why question it?

His hands were callused and warm as they covered your sensitive breasts, plucking at your nipples like the petals of one of your flowers, and you mewled from the pleasure, asking him for more and more and more.

Then, you felt his mouth on your neck, sucking and licking you, reminding you of how it felt when his mouth was on your tits, making your flesh tingle like the crackle of lighting, like the cold of the first swim of the season. 

So, you turned towards him, spreading your legs on either side of his hips, sitting proudly in his lap, hoping he would return his mouth to where it was needed. And he did. It was as if he read your mind, knowing you wanted him to suck and suck and suck against the softness of your skin, to use his tongue to press into the nub of your nipple, over and over until you felt your legs begin to shake as if you were shivering from the cold. 

“My pretty flower, it feels like you need something else, hm? What would you like? I will give you Olympus if you ask me for it.”

You weren’t sure what to ask for. When a flower asks to be picked, growing symmetrical and soft as it does, what does it know about the plucking? Only picked flowers know what they’re really asking for, don’t they?

“I don’t know… I just… I need…” You tried to make sense of your body’s wishes, and why you were rocking your hips back and forth, why you needed to feel something between your thighs. 

Hades’ smile widened, that dark beard pressed out of the way of his full mouth as it turned up into a grin, 

“How about this, hm?” 

He fumbled with your robes and his, and then you felt yourself sigh with relief when he placed some part of him between your legs, giving you something to rub against through your softest petals, wet with excitement and desire. You both sighed, and you could feel the heat of him as you rocked back and forth. It felt like his wrist, but then again, it didn’t. It was wide enough, but at the end, instead of a hand, it was the fleshy edge of another tongue, perhaps. Something that was licking your hole every time you passed over it. 

Eventually, everything was wet beneath you. His robes, your robes, his body, your body… it was a sticky, dripping mess. You had lost your breath, your heart beating out of your chest, your mind sparkling like a fire and then going blank like you had drank too much wine. Over and over, you felt everything and then nothing. It may have been hours, but you couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem like he was in a rush to be finished with your game, so you didn’t question it. 

“More, still?” He finally asked, kissing you on the mouth sweetly, sucking on the tip of your lolling tongue, “My greedy little flower…”

You weren’t sure what more there was. But, he showed you. This time, when you rocked back, he used his hand to notch himself at your hole, and if you pushed forward, you would have to press yourself onto him, to take him inside of yourself somehow. It was the same way you had used your fingers inside yourself to play in your bed or in your glade by the river, just touching yourself for the comfort of it. 

But, this was different. This was not comfort, it was magic. It felt like old magic, something from the world as it was before. And yet, he had promised you whatever you wanted, so you didn’t question it. 

As you slipped yourself over his fleshy knob, you experimented with your movements, rolling your hips back and forth, seeing how it felt to push him deeper and deeper inside of you, stopping when you felt like you were being stretched open. Then, you tried circles, turning your hips around and around as you sat in his lap, feeling him slipping deeper and deeper inside of you as you found your rhythm. 

He was busying himself with kissing you, or suckling from your nipples, but you could tell he was enjoying himself as much as you were. His grunting was that of a rutting deer, hoarse and loud. Finally, he reached some sort of limit, and he grabbed you, changing places, pressing you beneath him on the lounge, nearly ripping off your robes and his own, making you naked in front of him. 

Then, you saw what you had been using for your pleasure. His phallus stood tall and strong against his belly, ruddy and throbbing, shining with your wet nectar. You had never seen one up close, and when you cradled it in your hands, it felt alive, like it was separate from him even though its thick root was buried deep inside his body. 

Hades’ eyes glowed bright blue, his own magicks coursing within him, and he told you,

“Open your legs.”

So, you obeyed, entranced by his power and the feeling you were experiencing, weightless and floating in your own mind. He fed himself into you, as deep as you had gone and then deeper, not stopping when you hissed in a breath from the feeling of your muscles stretching beyond the point of comfort, delving far enough to cause pain. 

“Ahh!” You cried out, but he shushed you with his mouth, kissing you again and again, distracting you from the discomfort of his invasion. 

“That’s my good girl…” He praised you, just as your mother always did, for a job well-done or a chore checked off the list. 

But, you didn’t feel like you were doing a chore. In fact, you felt like you were watching him do one for you. His thrusting was violent and repetitive, his huge rod pounding into you with every snap of his hips, grinding his tip inside of you deeper and deeper. As you moved past the pain and back into a throbbing sort of pleasure, he looked as if he was taking your pain away from you in this ritual. His face was set in a grimace, his eyes ferocious and snarling, his voice growling and letting out only deep, throaty whines. 

So, you did what he had done for you. You kissed his furry chest and latched onto his soft nipple, listening to him cry out with a sudden shout. 

“Love, I can’t… ”

You didn’t know how to help him, so you kept sucking and sucking, hoping you would bring him the pleasure that you felt, that you might ease his pain. 

But, he grabbed your face in his huge hands, pulling you away from his chest, squeezing your cheeks to make your lips press into a helpless sort of pout. 

He growled down at you like a wounded animal,

“So beautiful. My queen. My perfect little flower.”

Then, you felt your body tumble into another one of your hypnotic phases; your muscles clenching, your toes curling, your breath neither coming in nor rushing out, helpless to your own reaction. 

“Unghff-fuck… that’s it. Persephone…” He looked at you with those eyes, the eyes of some unearthly being, the bright icy glow keeping you in that cyclone of pleasure, thrashing you with it over and over, making you feel a wet gush between your legs, warm and slick. 

He released your face and leaned backwards, peering down at your body from his kneeling position, letting you watch how he was pistoning inside of you, pressing himself through you and filling you up. He watched himself for a moment, staring down at where you were joined, and then he sank himself all the way in and tossed back his head with a bellowing shout.

You felt his prick writhing inside of you, pulsing and throbbing. You waited, panting with him, watching him wipe the sweat from his brow. He pulled himself out slowly, and lay it on your belly, letting you see the last of his seed drooled from his tip. There was blood on your skin when he pulled away, and as much as you tried to wipe it away, it stained.

Hades carried you to his bed, wrapping you in his dark blue silk sheets, cradling you in his arms until you both drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke to the sound of a woman crying. A voice calling your name. But, you were so tired, you must have been dreaming, so you didn’t question it. 

Luke was always struggeling to keep up relationships with people. He had Chris as the ever lasting person in his life since they first met at Camp Halfblood when they were 14 years old. After that, everyone was coming and going but noone really stayed for long.

You only joined his life later. Having spent most of your life in the Underworld with your mother, social normes and interactions with living people were a riddle to you.

Long story short, you were... a challenge for most people. Not that they didnt like you. The younger kids loved you and even Dionysus gave you a smirk whenever you left behind a slightly distressed demigod that tried to challenge you.

Maybe you weren't from this realm but that certainly did not mean that you didn't like it at the camp. You were craving the space that the Underworld couldn't offer you. It was only a matter of time that someone would fall for you.

By chance, that was a certain son of Hermes. Luke fell for you just as bad as you fell for him. You knew he was complicated. He was reaching for the stars but got disappointed over and over again since he was a baby.

Luke was in a bad headspace today. He didnt really know when the idea crept up to him. Maybe it was because the gods let him down for one too many times. He had been questioning your love for him for the last few days while he rotted away in bed, trying not to neglect too many of his tasks.

He needed proof of your love. Proof that you would not leave him behind like everyone else did. He contemplated talking to you but proud as he was, he quickly discarded that idea and stirred up a plan instead.

A fake breakup.

It would give him the opportunity to see your raw reaction. And he could find out if you were serious about him. Or even glad to get rid off him? Luke didn't want to think about that. He loved you after all.

"You entered the Hermes Cabin after sword practice this afternoon. You were a little sweaty and your clothes had dust stains on it from the sand in the arena. Luke was laying on his bed, his arm covering his eyes. You thought that maybe he was sleeping so you tiptoed over to your bed and started taking off your boots.

Luke shuffled on his bed and groaned as he sat up. He smiled tiredly as he looked up to find you watching him. "Hey." He mumbled but his expression dropped soon. You looked at him confused.

"What's up, darling?" You asked while you put your boots to the side. Luke got up and approached you. "I thought about something all day... can we talk?" He asked. You nodded. "Of course. What's bothering you?"

Luke looked around. Besides the two of you, everyone was out of the cabin running around somewhere else. The situation was perfect... He sighed. "I... there is something." He said hesitating, fiddling with his hands. This was not normal. You frowned. Your Luke was never this nervous about talking to you.

"Im breaking up with you." He whispered in a low tone, barely able to get the words over his lips. He could see your world shatter into pieces. Your expression dropped and a couple of dead moths fell from the ceiling, making Luke cringe away a little.

Finally, you broke out of your freezed and shocked state.

"What?! No, no, no, no." You said, tears dwelling up in your eyes. Luke tried to pull his gaze away from you and turned around to the cabin door. There formed a single tear in his eyes too. He hated seeing you cry.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to face you. "Why would you break up with me?" You sobbed. Luke looked at you irritated, trying to keep his sadness down. "You deserve someone better than me." He grumbled under his breath. You pushed him against the wall by his shoulders angrily.

"I wanted our kids to have your eyes." You yelled at Luke, tears streaming down your face. "What?" Luke asked, suddenly taken aback. You violently tried to whip the tears from your face, smearing some dust onto your cheeks.

"Our kids need to have your eyes!" You sobbed and suddenly Luke wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. You tried to push him away but he kept you in his embrace. After a few seconds, you stop trying to free yourself and let your head fall against his chest.

At first you thought Luke was crying too, from the way his shoulders were moving up and down in a quick, steady rhythm but soon you noticed that the bastard was actually laughing.

"I hate you." You mumbled between a few sniffs. "I know." Luke whispered, there was a light chuckled in his voice that he failed to swallow down. "Thats okay. Its what i deserve."

"Luke Castellan, i hate you so, so much. We will meet in Tartarus if you dont quit the bullshit right now." You weakly slapped his chest. "But i love you. Please, this was not real?" Your sobs died down as you leaned against his chest.

Luke swallowed heavily and finally, after a long moment, shook his head. You exhaled and sobbed again, this time because of the relief rushing through your body.

You leaned up to wrap your arms around him too, holding him close. You buried your hand in his hair and made him look at you. "You were kidding, right?" Luke nodded hesitantly, worried you would make some more dead animals fall from the sky.

You wanted to slap Luke. But that is not what you do to your boyfriend, at least not right now. Instead you rested your head on his shoulder and rubbed your tears dry on his tshirt.

"Hey." Luke complained, trying to push you off but you pressed him against the wall and continued to use him as your personal tissue paper. "That's your punishment, you idiot." Luke carassed your hair and let you go on with you drying your tears.

"Why did you do this?" You asked. Luke looked away, ashamed that he actually thought this was a good idea. You put a hand on his cheek and made him look at you. "This is not what i think about it is, is it?" You asked with a shocke expression.

Luke nodded slowly, lowering his gaze. You sighed and leaned against his forehead. "I really love you, otherwise i wouldn't keep you as my boyfriend. Luke nodded slowly, accepting.

"Luke?" "Mhh?" He hummed. "Will you be my boyfriend again?" You asked. A slight smile crept up on your face but you tried to hide it to not let Luke win just right away. Luke chuckled, his mood becoming a little better again. "If you truly want that." You groaned and bumped your head on his shoulder a few times.

"Just say yes, you morron." "Yes." He whispered. You pet his hair a little. "Good boy." You grinned at Luke, who now rolled his eyes. "But i am not having children with you until we both got a job." He argued but it ended up in a laugh. He was laughing at the absurdity of this situation.

Now it was you rolling your eyes. "Fine. Reasonable." You grumbled and pouted at him a little. Luke smiled and wrapped his arms around you extra tight. "Did you mean it? My eyes, really?" He asked. You huffed.

"I was never before this serious in my life." You stated firmly. Luke leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You scrunched your nose sweetly and peppered his face with small kisses.

"So... if i mess up you will throw dead animals at me?" Luke asked mockingly, as you pulled back. You grumbled and slapped Luke's chest again.

You can hear the tut of disapproval as he clicks his teeth in favor of replying. You keep your eyes pinned to the dirt, favoring to pretend on focusing on your previous task. He can see through your facade as easily as you’ve chosen to challenge him, something the other gods rarely choose to do.  

“I don’t think you really believe that, but what do I know?” His sardonic tone achieves nothing but an eye roll from you, and judging from the way your newly planted flowers wilt around you, it doesn’t please him. A loud gasp escapes you as he pinches your jaw between two slender fingers, “I know it's bullshit.” 

It's been a while since you’ve seen him. Your body preens under his touch, your eyes widening as he bores into you with an annoyed expression. His wild hair seems even more untamed than usual, overgrown like thick vines in every direction, you almost wonder if you touched them would they grow? His tall figure is hunched over yours, almost dominantly if you didn’t know better. His presence itself was dominating, suffocating you as though you were just another flower in the vast expanse of the field. His name slips from your parted lips.

“What?” He sneers, eyes roaming your face before briefly flickering down to your cleavage spilling out despite the modest tunic, “Too good to speak to old lov—dirty, old gods like me?” 

His face is more weathered than you’ve seen it in eons, small grooves finding their homes in the sharper edges of his face. You’ve never understood it, as gods don’t or shouldn’t age, but it suits him. His rough and calloused hand still hasn’t left the soft skin of your cheeks. He seems hesitant to do so. It puzzles you to see him in such a manic state, much different than the coolly collected deity you thought you had known centuries ago. 

You met him in the very fields you both currently resided in. He was much younger, full of life— if that’s even possible for a god of death. He drifted, observing the mortals and their rituals for the harvest, for you. He was so beautiful, a tall, lean build unlike the other suitors that plagued you with gaudy and exaggerated muscles. Too beautiful to look that sad, you had thought, too beautiful to remain alone.

The same god who had seduced you from under your mother’s tight grip, showed you how you offered more to the universe than others wanted you to, and the same god who didn’t care whether or not you inhabited his realm in the end. The realm you’d helped build and cultivate, the cool unforgiving life you had breathed into it that stabbed you in your bleeding heart. The memory pains you, the rejection of a cruel motherland and its heartless ruler. The memory alone is enough to snap you back to reality, currently under his unwavering gaze. Resentment radiates off him, tainting the newly born life surrounding the both of you. It rests uneasy on your mind, the blatant pattern of life and death, where you go he’s sure to follow. Truly living up to the name the mortals have adorned him with. 

Hades.

“Why are you here?” He drops his hand from your face the moment your question leaves your lips, choosing to turn away. His dark robes starkly contrast with the lush green of the land, as though a haunting reminder of its fragile existence. Your eyes trail up his towering figure, watching as the muscles in his back tense with the implications of your question. He’s avoiding giving you a real answer, you’re sure he’d try to avoid it for the rest of eternity if he could. The storm brews quietly above you, the obvious power imbalance exposing itself as you stay quiet at his feet. 

The earth rumbles beneath your sprawled form.

“Maybe I need something from you. Maybe I missed you. Maybe there’s something more powerful than us that draws me to you. Maybe for no reason. Maybe the fact that I don’t need you makes me need you.”

You roll your eyes at his dramatic soliloquy, a habit that always manages to get under his skin. Something he insisted was for little, mortal girls— which you definitely were not. The little patience he arrived with has melted with the simple gesture of annoyance you presented to him once again. His hand returns to your supple skin, this time wrapping around your neck to thread through your hair.

 “Sweet goddess, do not test me,” he speaks through gritted teeth, each word punctuated by a tug at your scalp, “this is not a battle you would win.” 

He surges forward to capture your lips in a suffocating kiss. It blinds you, all passion, teeth, and tongue. You don’t know what he wants, and you’re almost sure he doesn’t either. It reminds you of when you traversed this land together, stolen kisses where your mother’s breadth didn’t reach you.

Your hand reaches up instinctively to caress his cheek, it's much more gaunt than you remember, truly cementing him into his role as the King of Death. Slowly you bring him down to lay on top of you, his expression has long since changed from one of anger to something unreadable. You should be more concerned— would be more concerned had it not been for the thick bulge of his cock that rocks into your thigh. 

He’s not good for you, Persephone.

His free hand trails up your inner leg until he’s reached where you bleed hot for him, keening as he forcefully runs a finger through your slit. Not enough to hurt, but as a warning to who you truly belong to. Nevermind the suitors you’d been entertaining the last couple hundreds of years or so.

He will bleed you dry, take any evidence that life breathes through you.

Your heart beats with the adrenaline that shoots down your spine, the restless energy channeled intro bucking your hips up to meet his fingers. He had never been a giver though, forcefully swallowing your moans as they creep out of your throat. His eyes puncture the painful expression that paints your features, scanning and stealing any drop of affection he can milk from you.

There will be nothing left of you. 

The gentle beauty of the landscape you have worked so hard to birth is desecrated by the imprint of your blasphemous acts. He plants his knees on either side of your figure, his hand leaves your dripping cunt to return to your neck, restraining you back into the earth. Your earth.

“Did you think there would be no consequences?”

Your eyes fly open at his words. He distracts you by sucking a wet bruise into the tender skin below your collarbone, just visible on the outskirts of your tunic. His hand squeezes tighter as you squirm and whimper beneath him. Fear, pleasure, and pain all mix until they settle deep in your stomach with the subtle arousal he elicits from you. He can feel your pulse beneath his tongue, it beats wildly as he nudges your pussy with his knee. He lets you buck for a moment beneath him, before using the meat of his thigh to expose your lower half to him.

It's lewd how wet you are for him and his brazen display of possessiveness. He seems to enjoy the shameless noises he manages to pull from deep inside you as he ruts into the soft skin of your upper thigh, teasing you. You whine and mewl for more hopelessly. He would take all the time in the world if it meant undoing you, especially if it meant ruining you for anyone else. 

Your legs tremble as the rough head of his cock catches against your entrance, he offers you a wolfish grin in return, it reminds you of when he took your virginity— damning you to marriage, another thing he wouldn’t give you. The hand on your throat squeezes once more to remind you he’s in control, you’re a panting mess of nerves as he continues to tease his length along your dripping slit. 

He finally bends to your will after what seems like an eternity of teasing on his end, you’re practically vibrating from how keyed up he’s gotten you. 

Your eyes roll back into your head as he sheaths himself deep inside you with a brutal thrust.  You search blindly for something to grip but there’s nothing but dirt that slips through your fingers just as easily as he had.

“You like — you enjoy this, don’t you little goddess?” It makes you clench around his thick cock, a deep groan emits from his throat at the squeeze. He follows with another rough thrust that seems to undo something within your gaping hole, the lewd squelch echoing throughout the field as you soak his length.

You push back against him feverishly, the snapping of his hips brutal against your soft skin. He moves the hand from your throat to swipe at your clit with slender fingers, you can’t help but cry out in response. The noise only encourages him, however, as he uses his knees to spread you wider — tilting to angle himself even deeper.

“Answer me,” his tone is harsh and demanding as though you were a soul on trial for a crime with him as your judge, you’re too drunk on him to think about it, instead frantically shaking your head as the words die in your throat. 

He pounds into you mercilessly due to the lack of response. You feel yourself fluttering and twitching, shaking from anticipation and exhaustion. 

You can feel the drool that pools onto your shoulder as it drips from your mouth while his fingers find your sensitive spot, the teasing and formalities gone as he matches the brutal pace that pounds into you. The latest stroke administering the final blow toward your release, the knotted pit in your stomach finally coming undone as waves of pleasure wracked your body with a strangled cry. You continue to thrash and buck as he fucks you through your orgasm chasing his own. 

He leans down to give you a deep kiss, you’re drunk on him and accept it with an open mouth. Your chest feels like it’ll burst when something sweet hits your tongue. When you open your eyes he’s gone, just the lingering feeling of his body pressed against yours.

Fury swirls akin to restless wet eels slithering upon her weeping heart, soft fingers curl into fists --- leaving a trail of fire in her wake, whisking herself away to hide in her quarters.

Desperate hoarse shouts of her name, and hasty steps pierces another crack at her heart --- her name bounces against the luxurious onyx marbling pavements, a hymn within the stretched crafted hallway; ghoulish help scour away in the shadows, parting from their majesty akin to the red sea.

Her heart thumps wildly against the cavity, swallowing a sob down to her tight throat. Chin wobbles, but held high in the air, defying the urge to crumble into nothingness among any prying eyes.

Open-palms thud against the massive wooden doors to the grand bedroom, loudly the hinges swing.

An luxurious chamber, walls painted inky black, carved marbling, resembling an ancient cathedral. The marital bed encased in a transparent canopy curtains,

A tender snarl, fingers tug at her tresses ends down her chest, a slight burn at the scalp, huffs of air --- ‘the nerve of that pórni. Claims to possess the affections of my king.’

Shakingly her marital palm comes to her weary gaze, holding it, fingertips fondling the sparkling crimson ruby, the opulent ring carved with skull flowers, and his vows of forever love engraved inside the slope of the ring --- instinctively, brings the ring to her lips, kissing it, as tears water her knuckles.

“My heart, please.” A gruff cry lingers near the doorway, startled feet hastily squeak against the floor, a gasp leaves his wet lips, chest heaving, heart beating anxiously.

Tresses disheveled, curled ends behind his ears. There, standing coolly at the closet is his love, his only love rummaging for spare clothes that slung over her fore-arm, his eyes widened, spring fabric --- she’s leaving.

“Spring will come early this year.” A hiss, a wet sniffle.

“NO.” He roars, it bounces against the castle’s walls, no doubt, all of the underworld hears his cries. Stomping towards her, he rips the spring green fabric from her hands, flings the torn silk, and cotton overhead, not caring where it lands.

Her palms fly up against her chest, a defensive stance, “No worries, that filthy little nymph can warm your cold heart.” Cautiously, her heels click backwards, nearing the wall, not wanting to feel his warmth --- if she does, she’ll melt, fall back into his arms; but that’s what she yearns for.

Even in a tiny space of separation, two spirits weep --- a tiny breath of death.

“You will not leave me to rot alone for another few months, you just got back.” His voice cracks, oceanic hues glassy, nose scrunched.

His palms itch to touch her flesh, soft flesh, bask in her glow, her light that radiates in waves --- how only her presence has thawed the icy frost of his dead heart.

Centuries of eternal marital bliss, an unbreakable bond, deep-rooted trust, now being questioned by the presence of an ex-lover, tears kiss his lashes, ‘How little does she think of me for her to easily slip into the madness of jealousy?’

But then again --- how many decapitated heads have he rolled down the grand stairs of his hellish manor, how many souls has he banished to the darkest pits, for just merely glancing at his queen?

“Stay back, Hades.” She bites back with a weak sneer, eyes shine wet --- a murky flurry of mixed emotions battle heavily on her mind, to scratch him yet caress him, to bite him yet to kiss him, to fight him yet her flesh desires to make-love right there on the chilled marbled floor.

He scoffs, eyes wide --- shines wetly back at hers, not even his mortal pseudonym James, nor Bucky; once it irate him when his immortal comrades jokingly called him those names to tease, and jab, instead of referring him by his title.

But once she tenderly she said those silly names, as if a holy hymn, suddenly those names no longer held such bitterness.

“Hades, huh?” Bucky repeats, a timbre of disbelief, his voice drips an octave lower, risking another step towards her, “That’s your name, is it not?” She deadpans, her eyes narrowed into slits, the slope of her button nose scrunches, as her shoulder-blades meet the wall.

He hissed her human name, “Don’t get fucking cheeky.” Bucky hisses, his bearded moue twitch, hunching over now akin to a snarling beast --- he will be damned to let her return to the earthly realm, for her to disregard him as such.

“It’s Persephone, you will address me as such. Not my mortal name.” Her plump breasts heave a bit against the tied corset, sombre and scarlet; a crafted macabre dress fit for a queen, an ode to her king.

The slick ebon hue that adorns her lids, resembles the crafty lashes of a feline --- sharp, and alluring.

Such morbid colors drape her bronze skin, rich brown flourishes. Bucky clicks his tongue, his face morphs with a smirk curling, chuckling to himself.

“We’re beyond formalities, my queen. Especially since my cock knows how velvety sweet your cunt is.”

“Don’t be so vulgar.” The clicks of her heels skitter, and fumble against the flooring, the skin of her back sticking against the pavement, chastising herself for how her mound soaks within seconds --- that filthy mouth of his spell bounds her.

“You love it. I can already smell you.” Bucky growls, resembling a beast, the raw form of a grotesque God, but even in that being, she loves him so --- physically and emotionally.

Closer now, menacing crystalline hues shadowed under a brow.

“Stay back.” She repeats once more, but her voice trembles, nostrils still flaring, brows furrowing pitifully, “Don’t get close to me. If I catch your scent, or even feel your touch --- I’ll ---” Breathy gasp.

Spidery fingers laxly flutter, ‘you’ll what?’ Bucky teases under his breath --- closer now. Caging her, forbidding her from any escape, his pulsating arms stretch, and his thick hands pin beside her head, rumbling with desire.

Featherily lips peck her forehead, his breathing a bit harder now, fanning her scalp; her pupils roll to the back of her skull.

As if his touch is a balm. Stroking the tip of his nose against coils of curls, inhaling her natural scent, crushed rose petals, “I’m not like my brothers, I will never stray from my beloved.” Such affirmations breathe upon her hairline lovingly.

The thread snaps.

Soft palms swiftly cup his jaw, desperate, her breathing heavy, standing on the tips of her toes to reach his pout; lips smashing against his, breathy gnarls, wet tongues dance and flutter between open lips, gnashing teeth, muffled moans.

His hands dash, and fondle upon her bodice, sneaking from the curve of her waist, to the slope of the tailbone, kneading her bum through the dress --- bundling the fabric between his fingers.

Frenzied, he grips, fingers digging into her skin, a quick swat, the rings adorning his fingers sent a shiver up the crevices of her spine; groping, and squeezing possessively.

Oval nails wove within the locks, gently caressing his scalp, a flow of endless moan rolls from his throat; a sweet tug at the roots.

Pulling her lips away from his, he scoffs, displeased to be disconnected from her lips; Bucky growls and bites at her chin, she hushes him.

Fingers leisurely massaging, his eyes dilated, nearly rolling in his head. Her pearly canines twinkle, her face hairs away from his, coddling nose to nose, how pleasant his weight leans upon hers; limbs entangled.

“Kneel before your queen.” A hot whisper, a sly smirk forms upon his jaw, with ease Bucky’s knees bends down to the floor, sliding down, sitting himself right between her open legs.

Bucky clicks his tongue tauntingly, and can feel her heat wafting. No panties --- no need, never.

Christening every surface of this manor is a daily ritual --- the walls, the floor, the dining table, the seat of his throne  --- that’s Bucky’s favorite spot, he feels power swell through his spirit, and cock; as he sits upon his royal chair, his love’s precious jewel split and wet upon his dick.

“If you love me --- beg like the hellhound you are.” Massaging his shoulders under her soothing palms, squeezing just a bit, reminding him to remain on his knees.

“Cold woman --- you would do anything for me to be at your feet.” The silver rings deliciously glides against her skin, as his fingers snuck under the hem of the dress, looping his tips through the black fishnets, a clean rip pierces through the air --- shredded pieces fly through the air, a sting radiates behind, but pain and pleasure … It's their love language.

“But my love, isn’t this your favorite position?” Her fingers grip at his chestnut tresses, as her palm fondles his dimpled chin lovingly, how delicious his beard stubble prickles against the pad of her thumb.

Bucky’s pink moist tongue slithers and curves between his lips, a hot grunt fans against her bare leg, her thigh quivers, moaning salaciously by the throat.

A wet glide of the tongue against the meat of her thigh, not once his eyes waver from hers --- a breathy gasp, sucking through her canines.

Traveling the terrain of supple flesh, along the path of her inner thigh, her heat warms his redden cheeks, lips suckling right at her pulse point, as the cup of his hand cradles her thigh.

He loves how her hips reflexively lift, just to hold her still, under his grip --- his lips halt, just mere hairs away from the slick hickey, faint hue of lavender blooming.

Tracing the line of her shin, down the smooth glide to her ankle, rubbing the arch of her foot tenderly --- fingertips caress featherlight on the sensitive skin back and forth, igniting a fire in her veins; how her heart swells at the sight of him kneeling at her feet, as if a devote at an alter, whispering her name as a holy prayer --- the orchestration of such euphoric devotion.

“For you, my heart --- I’ll crawl through hell-fire.”

Wordlessly, Bucky dives head-first within her mound, with an animalistic growl, his hands cupping her ass, holding her in place as he feasted upon her cunt. Eyes roll back, lashes flutter, a whining moan bubbles.

Hips grind against his flat tongue, slurping her wet lips between his slick mouth, flickering her pulsating clit with his tongue --- feathery fast flicks, driving her mind to lustful madness.

Oceanic hues glaring into her hazel orbs, her sepia skin glistens, and glows akin to gold by the lit candles, basking a halo over her heavenly bodice --- a ‘mmm hmph’ groan vibrates from his spilt mouth, knowing his love is close to the brink.

His girth hardens within his pants, at the mere sight of his wife trembling by his touch. Fingernails scratching at the skin, ache intermixing in the waves of pleasure.

A god on his knees, but she’s the one who he worships.

Bruises bloom in lavender hues --- his wet tongue licks her slick, her plump lips split upon his mouth, as his lips devoured her mound --- so soft, and slick.

The slick of her soppy cunt echoes against Bucky’s pink tongue, pierces through the dense silence, a debauched cadence that spurs her lover, his growing cock drips, and stains his trousers.

Broken whines bubbles at her throat, one palm gripping her hair --- coiling curls tightly woven between her spidery fingers, as the other found refuge in Bucky’s hair, tips massaging and scratching his scalp.

Dull sting left in the wake of her nails, it only fuels the fire in his loins. Pain and pleasure --- there is no difference, the two sides of a coin.

Eyes pinched shut, almost there, close to the edge, her hips grinding wildly against his mouth, hair tousled. Choppy pants, airy, gasping, with tears trickling down her cheeks.

Bucky halts, his fingers digging, and pausing her waist, the pads of his thumbs caressing her hip-bones.

“Bucky …” A wet, weak snarl, with pitiful eyes glaring at him; sucking her bottom lip as a weepy toddler. “Look at me,” Bucky rasps, pupils blown, her slick drips, and coats his beard with a shine, softly kisses her weak inner thigh, a sticky kiss mark, “I wanna see you, my love.”

A submissive nod, her eyes dazed, and cloudy; lips parted in a tiny dreamy smile. Even through the hazy cloud, she knows what he implies, oh she knows --- many times has she begged to see his eyes as he comes undone.

Even after many centuries of being together, the mere sight of seeing each other undone, staring into each other’s soul is beautiful.

His lips suckle her clit once more, an exhaled breath heaves from her lips, her chin wobbles. Nerves alit, her Venus belt tightens, and grinds wildly on Bucky’s mouth, his growls vibrate against her cunt; his growls become animalistic, purely primal.

More intense as her whines become higher pitched. Bucky’s head shakes from side to side, suckling her clit, snarling as a wolf devouring its feast.

Ungodly scream of his name, shrills and echoes. This feeling in their chests, it’s love, a limb-loosener, it rattles to the morrow. Tears flood her eyes, squirts of her cum dribbles from the corners of his lips, dripping off his stubble cheeks.

Skin a flamed, caressing his beard against her inner thigh, lips parted, his moist tongue licks, savoring her softness, always so soft; a delicious burn that will make her ache for days.

Heavy breaths, her chest heaves, hoarse throat --- an irritable beast swirls deep in her gut, her deep burgundy tip traces his sharp jawline, beckoning his gaze to hers. Bucky purrs at her dilated pupils, as well as his.

“I need to feel you.” She sultry whispers, her thumb glides sweetly against his wet bottom lip, sneaking inside his mouth; his canines nibble her thumb, the tip of his tongue flicks.

Smooches softly the pad of her thumb, without hesitation, Bucky scrambles to his feet, his cock still hard and swollen.

His fingers grips the curve of her neck, cupping the nape of her neck, his rings jolt a chill upon her warm skin; tasting and smelling her own nectar from his tongue. Her sweet essence tasted of the finest ambrosia, sticky honey of spring.

Deep kisses that left even Bucky light-headed, always needing his wife like air. “My sweet sunflower,” another kiss, “I could never betray you.”

Bucky spoke huskily, lips wisp against lips, “I am yours, just as you are mine.” Her pillowy lush lip trapped between his teeth, sucking, dragging.

“You’re mine.” The words trembled from her lips, almost a sob, as the tips of their noses fondle together, mouths parted, breathing each other’s essence. Bucky bashfully nods, with a sweet bleary smile, a flicker of darkness sparks in her glassy eyes. He pleads, “Say it again.”

“You’re mine.” One of her palms travels from his bicep, to his side of his torso, to his thick thigh, to the swollen cock that weeps. A handful of his manhood, massive and throbbing against her fingers, earning a growl.

“All mine.” She hisses once more, a grin, all fangs. Snarling as an irritable beast, Bucky whimpers pitifully at her saccharine affirmations of eternal love, “Body, and soul.” Rubbing cheek to cheek, scenting each other, just skin to skin.

“Make love to me. Ravish me, fucking use me.” Bucky whispers by the shell of her ear, but it’s husky, wanton --- desperate. Wet bee-stung lips nibble, and kiss his dimpled chin, split lips suck, her tongue flickers; the sensation of stubble hairs tickle the pink muscle.

Limbs entangled, slippery tongues twirl, and dance; Bucky cleverly diving his hands under her ass, fingers digging into the supple skin harshly, she hisses at his touch.

Curling her legs around his waist, her fingers interlocking at the nape of his neck. Steady steps ingrained by muscle memory, walking to the bed, ceremonially he lays her down.

Love-stricken eyes bore into his, fingers stretch and flex out for him; hast palms tug at his collar, buttons pop and fly, never once did his eyes leave her.

Unveiling his chest, strong and muscled --- how godly his chest illuminates by the dim lit candles, the flourish bleeds maroon upon his chest hair as the ichor from the pits of his father’s belly.

“So beautiful,” Bucky whispers, shedding the fine cotton from his shoulders, glides down his toned arms, “Let me see you.”

Daintily, and teasingly, her hands fondle the skin of her breasts, untying the silk strings that are woven within the corset’s hooks; gracefully her breasts heave from the bodice flaps, perky and succulent.

A heat stirs deep in her belly at the sound of his belt, leaning her torso up just a bit to toss the loose corselet, not caring where it landed; as Bucky unzipped his pants, his fingers sneaking into the unbuttoned trousers, slowly and tortuously palming his thick girth, panting low.

The tip of her pink tongue licks her upper lip leisurely, craving to taste his cock.

The flickering candle lights dance upon her bronze skin, voluminous amber shines the room; eyeing her brown nipples, his hands dive to pinch and twist. A pained whine, her head falls back in satisfaction, a crooked grin forms on Bucky’s face, humming low.

Bending her legs around his waist, arching feet snagged at his loose pants, toes flex and grip the hem; pulling it downward, letting it pool at his ankles.

Proudly his cock hung high, pulsating, thick, and dripping wet. She growls weakly, fingers reaching and pawing at the bobbing dick. Without any word, Bucky rips her bottom dress, the fluffy layers strewn in small pieces, excited grunts, his canines bearing.

Biting her lip, she gazes at him lovingly, as he steps out of his pants, crawling over her, his shoulders flexing tauntingly, steel eyes and chestnut tresses kiss his lashes --- two lovers bare, and vulnerable.

Her eyes are soft, and sheens glassy. Beaming doe eyes, lashes flutter, how she lays spread eagle underneath him, gleaming as if she was still virginal, yet still so pure.

It's like their honeymoon all over again, all those centuries ago. Innocence radiated, perfumed skin of crushed flowers, soft petaled kisses, how she held his battered body tenderly, opened up to him as a wet flower.

Yet --- she took all of him that night, where his true form sprouted, and ravaged her body. His wings hugged her, as he made love to her; how her fingers fondled his horns. It was that night, where he discovered something inside of her, something dark --- there’s much more to her spirit than just spring flowers, and humility.

He brought forth a darkness from her, cracked open her heart, and saw a goddess of

That darkness flickers a flame once more in her eyes.

“My heart, tell me what you want.” Huskily he spoke, his lips featherly grazing hers, not fully giving in.

“You know what I want.” She moans, nuzzling her nose against his.

“I want to hear you say it,” A kiss on her nose, “Moan it for me.” Bucky encased his arms around her head, her curls tickling his skin.

“I want you to touch me.” She spoke in the crock of his neck, kissing right under his ear. Her ass lifts off the bed, grinding her wet mound against his cock. Melting bodies, limbs fondling, her nails digging into his back --- Bucky knows exactly what she wants.

He clicks his tongue, “No,” he drags, “I know you too well, there’s something you want.” He nibs her cheek, with a kiss. Panting, pawing at Bucky’s shoulder-blades, whining, he has the nerve to laugh.

Bashfully, she hides her face in the arch of his neck, but the fire within her roars louder now, he can feel her rage, love, and possession sweat off her skin.

“Even after all these years, you’re still so shy.” Bucky teases, kissing her temple, “Tell your dear husband what you want.” He whispers, demanding for her to speak. “What is it? Do you want me underneath you, quivering?” Teases her with his lips, she leans in for a kiss, but he pulls away smugly.

“Yes.” She cries.

“What else?” He probes teasingly.

She bites his shoulder, her fiery snark returns, his eyes flutter closed, groaning in pleasure, “There she is.” This is what he wants too, to be broken down, for her to screw him senseless, possessing him entirely.

He knows her jealousy is still rearing its ugly head, a tiny monster spewing lies that maybe he’s finally tired of her after all these years.

Never.

He will destroy Heaven and Earth just for her.

Bucky rolls himself on his back, pulling his wife on top of himself, her fingers treading in his chest hair; gulping back the tightness in her throat, scratching her nails down his chest.

“You want to be used? For me to fuck you, my love? To ride you, make you empty your balls inside me?” She twirls her venus belt slowly, grinding herself on himself, how her velvety folds glide against the veins of his throbbing cock.

“Yes.” Bucky hisses, his head tilting back against the mattress, his hands clutching onto her hips, guiding her, soaking his cock with her wetness. “My love, all I want is you.”

Her fingers sweetly cup his throat, firmly but not harshly, leaning down, her lips catching his. Plump and wet, murmuring between kisses, Bucky relishing in being handled by her hand.

The moisture of her desire shines, thin strings of her essence connects with his pubic hair, Bucky nearly howls torturously at the now leisure pace, “Please, fuck me. Let me worship you, as you should be.” Lifting herself up by the knees, legs still split wide for him, feline eyes gawk him --- sharp and possessive.

Her wet lips shine, her cunt welcoming his hung cock --- how obscene he splits her open, such debauched moans erupts unison. Swallowing him whole, sitting down taking him inch by inch. Knees softly graze against the silk sheets, as she descends upon his torso.

A hoarse groan flows from Bucky at the warmth of her mound, how plump it sits against his pelvis, his thick pubic hair tickling her cunt --- it’s erotic yet tender how her tuft of curls, and his sleek hair creates such a soft sensation. Damp with their essence, creates a melody.

She bounces aggressively on his cock, a surge of heat flows through her veins, her hips thrash back and forth with vigor; sending her husband into a maddening frenzy.

The bed creaks a bit from the intensity of two bodies crashing and melding into one, the headboard nearly thumping against the wall pavement.

Huffs and pants pierce the silence, as her fingers clench just a bit tighter, his fingertips stroke the dimples at the end of her spine; whispering under choppy breaths, ‘harder, you know I can take it.’

More like need it, to feel her grip as she bounces on his cock. Her fucking him --- taking him apart from piece to piece.

Her lips spilt into a wicked crescent moon, the dim candle light illuminating it. Such naughty thoughts run rampant in her pretty head, biting down on his lip; a shiver runs up Bucky’s spine at the sheer devious beast above him that he is blessed to call his wife.

A little jolt of her hips makes him sob, eyes pinching shut once more, Bucky growls ‘again, please again.’

Her ass jiggles from her frenzied bodice, clenching him once more tightly, that strings a cracked boyish moan, high-pitched; his head perks up, his messy loose tresses bounce as his eyes get watery.

Pretty pink mouth parted open, gasping, as he watched her still her hips, roll it teasingly in circular motion, teasing him, tugging him to the edge, but yet never over.

“Yes,” his lips quivering, jaw slack, overcome with emotion how memorizing she hovers over him, how good the gushy walls of her feels wrapped around him.

“So beautiful, my love,” she croons, and his heart swells with pride, “Doing so good.” How proud she is at his restraint, to keep his hands at waist-level, to not let the beast within him unleash itself upon her, to take control, how steady his pelvis is.

Her fingers find solace in his hair, grips it, and pulls his head back a bit; as her other palm still holds firm at his throat.

Owlish eyes, wet and docile, gazes at her with such gentility --- as if he was once a youth, before the hardened shell of a god regurgitated from the fiery pits of his father; pure, he looks pure, and trusting.

How marvelous --- the only soul to break down Hades himself, to shattered pieces, “So good for me,” her voice lowers kindly, eased on lust, he tries to catch her lips as she leans over him, but she holds him still, shushing his whimpering.

“Good boy, so good for me.” Beads of tears flow down his cheeks, watering his beard, foreheads connect, “Say it for me.” She pleads, picking up the pace of her hips now, more earnest, needy.

“I’m yours.”

She hisses now, “Again, say it again!” Her breath fans his face, but he gladly breathes it in. “I’m -- argh -- yours!” Flashes of a certain nymph prancing around her manor, claiming her space, and ill attempts to claim her soulmate as hers --- it drives her mad.

A fire at her throat now, urges to say more now, profanities and such filth of her lover. Arching her back just a little as a preening feline, her head wanes back, wild curls flies and bounces, at such bliss of his throbbing cock pulsating; as if her cavity splits open, and wild orchids bloom.

He licks his lips, salivating at the mere sight of her tits --- jiggling in his face. Huffing, his head leaning up for his mouth to latch on her nipples, soft brown nipples.

Bucky’s tongue flickers, trying to lick her breast, whining. She notices in midst of her haze, a devious smirk, she tsks him, “What?” She plays coy. “Would you like some?” As she gropes and pinches her breast, taunting him.

“Hm?” She probes, teasing him as she pinches her nipple tightly between her finger tips, jiggling it in the cup of her palm.

Bucky nearly sobs, “Yes, please. I beg you, my love.” She rides him harder, faster, driving him to the brink. Leaning forward, she tenderly lets Bucky latch upon her breast, like a rabid dog, sucking and biting.

She moans at the sensation of his tongue swirling, lapping at her nipple. Saliva slicks her flushed flesh, vulgar slurps, she whines in delight.

Eyes pinched shut, cradling his head with her hand, her fingers caressing his scalp, as his wet cock thrusts deeper and deeper in her cunt.

His hips crash against hers, his wet balls slapping her clenching asshole --- soaking, and puckering. A melody of skin slapping against skin echoes against the walls, his fingers tightly gripping her waist.

The noises her cunt is making is obscene, sticky precome clings to the skin of his cock, pumping erratically.

Her back is sweaty now, some strands cling to the dew, as such her baby hairs to her forehead; his hair clings to his face as well. The sheets crumple now, a few corners now strewn off from the covers.

“Gods --- look how your pussy just drools over my dick,” an airy laugh from Bucky, his eyes flickering from steel blue to vermilion that glows within the candlelight, “My queen, how insatiable you are.”

One hand scrambles for her thigh, his thumb fondling the skin, an unspoken promise, that he’s here, always there.

Almost there --- nearly tumbling over the edge, the coil is tightening, ready to snap. United beat of sex, and two hearts create holy escatasy.

Thunderous growl emits from Bucky, his timbre falling into an octave, resembling such power --- voices now melting into each other, tightens something in the gut and chest. The pads of her fingertips grip his throat, Bucky is breathless, but he grins wickedly.

Everything is hot white, vision blurs, a shriek bubbles out, and a broken groan. Two bodies shake, and quake, clinging onto each other by possessive hands. Unholy matrimony.

Her entire body slumps upon his, her palm lax at the base of throat, his arms quickly encasing her back, then traveling by her head.

Kissing her temple, her face resting at the crook of his neck. Lazily, their bodies tilts to the side, heavy breathing, and strained whines --- still connected by the sex.

He hums low in his throat, “Ah,” he sighs, kissing her slick lips, his bicep slithers under her arm, as his fingers caress her curls, fiddling with the loose jeweled clips from limp coils.

“Feel better?” Nuzzling his nose against hers, both erupting in low chuckles, placid limbs entangled. Her leg clings to his thigh, her toes grazing the bare skin of his ankle.

His eyes become more serious, his fingers grasp her jaw, her cheeks slightly squish cutely in a pout, “Don’t ever think I would leave you.” His nose flares, his breathing choppy, and heavy at the mere notion of separation.

“I love you --- you’re my life. I was nothing before you --- once I saw you in that garden, flowers blooming around you,” his voice lowered to a whisper, “I swear my heart soared.” A wavering smile, at the memory of him catching sight of a pure angel.

“I just had to have you.” His voice trembles, bottom lip quivering, sniffling, his eyes flutter closed, stroking his cheek against hers. She sniffles, biting back a sob, cradling him closer to herself.

Persephone just can’t imagine a life without Hades, to live without him, such tragedy --- she will die from a broken heart, let her corpse float in the rivers of the Underworld, in search of him.

“I love you.” She speaks. A kiss, another, and a third --- more kisses follow. Sloppy kisses are the only sound in the air, needy moans, murmuring of undying love.

My love, my life.

---

Clicks of heels obnoxiously echo against the marbling, hips sway, an insolent stride demanding unrightful attention --- loyal decrypted guards witness with snickering eyes, smirks adorning grotesque moues; the gall of it all.

Soft, and onyx gauze bellows timidly by the brisk wind clung to crafted high-ceiling windows, beyond the manor’s horizon was the underworld in it’s tragic beauty --- the Styx river flows and circles upon the castle, a shiver runs down her skin at the memory of her travel across the river.

Charon’s filthy palms gripping her fore-arm, how he dragged her onto his boat, sunken eyes jet smoldering fire blazing her with such hatred, nearly smacking her in the face with the tail-end of his unwashed cloak.

How wicked he swirled his unkempt beard that clung to his chin between his thin fingers, grumbling under his breath, as she sat at the far-end of the boat, flinching at the ghostly palms of the dead reaching out; hissing in disgust. She always hated being surrounded by the dead, skin crawling.

“We have arrived.” A gravelly voice lingered, a hoarse chuckle, “Enjoy the honored feast with our majesty.” Hunched, decrypted being shook a bit at the shoulders, as if a joke the little nymph wasn’t privy to.

Too proud to bow down, a salacious smirk, graciously standing up from her seat, she spoke with conviction, “Yes --- a wonderful dinner with Hades is exactly an honor.”

The blatant disrespect.

Adorning her bodice was a revealing attire, a black slick dress with low-cut of plump cleavage, a waist-high cut unveiling her thigh, her hip-bone peaking out from the hem, smooth coiled hair lays on her shoulders, rouge painted lips.

A gold necklaces drape from her neck, slender fingers hold flower-encrusted rings, smoky eyes scanning the home that she dreams to be hers --- a tacky tactic, a display of cheap seduction.

Fiery red hair that flows straight down to her tailbone tickles her revealing back, as she digs in her clutch purse for an extra coat of gloss.

Musing pride blooms, act two of her grand scheme, showing up yesterday unexpected, Bucky hasn’t seen her for ages, after their ugly break-up, she moved from the Cocytus river, and left to wonder in the river of Lethe, stewing and inhabiting the cave of Hypnos with other nymphs.

Frankly --- Bucky forgot all about her, not a thought spent on her.

Surly growls erupt, fumbling feet nearly buckle her ankles inward, like a clumsy doe --- an inhuman shrill heaves from her chest --- her rapid heartbeat beats against the cup of her palm.

Descending from the corner of the corridors, snarling beasts foaming at the fangs; fiery red eyes, and licking their wet snouts, pointed ears flexing back; nearly three times huskier than the average earthly canine. Paws nimble, shoulders roving akin to a predator.

Shooing them away with a lame swat of her hand, nearly choking a sob --- just inches away from being devoured, “Go away, you nasty mutts!” Backing by her heels, almost cornered by the wall, the dogs don’t let up, her aggravated fear just spurs them on.

“Ela edo.”

Whimpers, and whines vibrate low, bowing heads, ears flopping down, timid paws pad towards a menacing figure standing tall by the grand staircase, crystalline hues under a strong brow --- Bucky’s pups moping that they couldn’t tear their fangs into flesh.

Twirling their massive bodies against his legs, tails wagging, happy to be shielding Bucky, as his knuckles caressed their furry domes.

“Greetings, Minthe.” Curt smile, yet polite --- pulled through the teeth.

The hellhounds grumble low at the throat at the mere mention of her name, her sour scent sends the two dogs in a frenzy of rage.

A nervous titter heaves from her shiny lips, Minthe’s mouth wavers into an anxious smile, toe-stepping far from the dogs, “Oh darling, why so formal?” Taut lean shoulders pose, returning back into her flirtatious gait, statuesque legs seductively walk with purpose.

“We know each other all too well, Bucky. Remember that sweet nickname you gave me?” Every word she speaks is as if she's lulling a moan, a weak attempt to entice.

“Yes, I remember --- Dot.”

Dot hums, her eyes half-hooded, “I’ve missed you. I’m so glad you invited me back.” Inching closer to him, “My apologies for yesterday. I hope I didn’t cause any distribution.” Faux sympathetic lashes flutter innocently, smug satisfaction at the memory of Persephone storming away at the mere presence of Minthe.

Bucky biting a sneer, thinking to himself, how did he ever come to love her? To the point of naming an earthly garden plant after her in honor? What a fool he was, all the faded memories of Minthe’s jealous fits, and possessiveness washes over him as a icy bath.

Bucky waves his dogs off, straying more near the end of the stairs but never far. “No harm, no foul. Just a misunderstanding, right?” Gritting subtly through his teeth, a small grated voice reminding him to hold his rage.

Treading closer to her now, he forces his hands to cup hers, “It’s good to see you again, Dot.” Minthe doesn’t even hide a dreamy sigh at his touch, her thumb caressing his inner wrist.

She giggles, a high-pitched one; her eyes scan the hellish alcazar, noticing a few changes, a softer touch --- she bites on her tongue, begrudgingly aware of who’s touch.

Anxious eyes scan the paintings of the macabre, death and hell immortalized in ancient paint oil. “Nice new decor, a bit dreary but then again,” a flutter of lashes, a cock of her head, “you were always one for the dramatics, Jamie.” Puckering her lips, musing over her bare shoulder, shimmies her hips a bit.

“Thank you, he likes when I decorate.” A melodic voice lingers, and pierces the silence.

Bucky twists his head hastily, his eyes softening, cloudy with love, walking away from Dot without a second look, excited feet carrying Bucky to her, open arms ready to hold her, as if centuries have passed without her touch.

Dot nearly stomps her foot on the ground as a miffed toddler, how easily Bucky ignored her --- as if she was nothing.

Descending down the stairs, with a serpent stride, effortless, and regal; adorning a sangria silk gown, flows like waves at her feet, curls coiled at the shoulders, soft dewy lips, lantern sleeves drapes her taut lean arms, a tied corset top that amples her breasts but not to vulgar --- but what made Minthe nearly hurl in her mouth, was how beautifully her crown rested upon her head.

Sparkles in the light, with the elegant rubies twinkle against the gold; marbled by the finest craftsmanship --- anything for his love.

Dainty feet hurry to Bucky’s arms, grabs her wrist, kissing her inner palm lovingly, engulfing her in his tight hug. Such a strong juxtaposition between the two betrothed, but yet, both complement each other perfectly, a yin-yang.

His lips find the crock of her neck, that perfect spot between her ear, and pulse point. Her arms encase around his neck, scenting him; guileful eyes peer over his shoulder, staring down at Minthe, fuming at the ears, disregarded as Bucky devours Persephone.

Her fingers wove itself in his hair, kissing his temple, never taking her eyes off of Minthe --- demonstrating her territory, goading that Bucky is hers, and hers only. Purposely a small flicker of her marital finger as if hovering an unattainable prize, as if saying ‘no matter what you do, you'll never win.’

“Well hello, Minthe.” Her tone light, but mirth festering underneath, such a malicious grin; as if just aware of Minthe’s presence.

“Hello.” Sharp, and straight to the point, eyes narrowed into slits; unbeknownst to the little nymph, Persephone had to dig her fingers on Bucky, restraining him from strangling her, from Minthe’s disrespectful greeting.

All in due time.

“It’s nice, you’ve accepted the invitation. I wanted to start anew with you, a clean slate.” Persephone moved forward, unreadable eyes shimmering with kindness, but it’s eerie how she smiles.

Bucky biting back a whine for having to move his face from her throat; his arm loops around her waist, fingers tenderly gripping onto her hip-bone, the pad of his thumb rubbing against the thin fabric. Her open-palm rubs sweetly between his shoulder-blades, to the curve of his waist.

Always have to be near, never far.

Minthe’s eyes widen owlishly, “Oh?” Mouth ajar, clears her throat, “I would like that indeed, yesterday was such a mess. I never intended to be so rude.”

Barely making eye-contact with Persephone, ‘Cunt.’ she bites back in her head, ‘Liar.’ Minthe’s mind began brainstorming, perhaps this dinner won’t be so bad, could benefit her to gain trust, weave herself back into Hades’ heart, right under Persephone’s nose.

Eyes meet eyes, silently pushing and shoving each other, who will crack first? Snarky remarks edging at the tip of their tongues, but bite down.

“Shall we? The dining hall is prepared for us.” Bucky speaks, hooded playful eyes, his arm extended towards the hallway, for both ladies to take their step. Distant shoulder to shoulder now, briskly walking, making small chatter, more of Persephone curious questioning about the earthly realm.

‘Silly little spring maiden.’

‘Pathetic little nymph.’

---

The small feast for three, but perfectly cooked nonetheless.

Goblets filled to the brim with wine, ambrosia weighs on tongues, small kisses here and there, tasting the elixir off of each other’s hot lips. Platters of fresh fruits, seasoned smoked fish, cheese, figs, and eggs, a nice meal --- but not enough for Minthe.

Expecting a grand splendor of food, flicks her fork around the food as it scrapes against the ceramic plate, angrily glaring at the two lovers across the table.

Seated on his lap was her.

Engrossed in each other, it was as if Minthe wasn’t even there. Bucky’s lips nibbled on Persephone’s bare shoulder, smooching on her collarbone; he must have whispered something filthy in her ear, causing her to hide her face against his giggling, as he cheekily bounced her on his leg.

“Bucky ---” Minthe hiss, drops her fork, it clunks against the plate, creating a loud echo, catching the attention of two pairs of eyes, “Why did you invite me?”

Her hands lay ontop of each other, resting her chin, “Cause it seems to me that I’m just a third wheel.” Snagging her cup, downing a hefty gulp, her speech becoming slurred.

Bucky scoffs, “My love, maybe it’s best she didn’t come by, dinners are best when it’s just you and me.” Not even trying to acknowledge Minthe, as she giggles through her nose; Minthe squawks in frustration.

“Oh, Bucky --- remember how we used to dine?” Minthe slithers, biting her lip. Bucky growls, “Don’t start.” Cradling his wife closer to his chest.

“You used to whisper sweet promises in my ear, feed each other fruits, and drink wine, how we froliced in the gardens ---” Her eyes darted now into Persephone’s, arching her brow in a challenge.

Bucky seething in pants, whispering ‘knock it off.’ “--- where he use to fuck me.” Persephone snarls, as Bucky shielded her ears by the cups of his palms.

“Watch your tongue!” Bucky roars, nose scrunched up, his face molding into that furious beast, the very terrifying face souls see as they are sent to their final fates.

Shouting, pointing his index right at her, “What we had meant nothing!” balling his hand into a fist, “You were just a tryst!”

A quiet sniffle caught his ears, turning to see his wife nearly at the brink of tears, softening at her, cupping her face into his palm, she leaned into his touch.

Kissing the slope of her button nose, ushering her to not listen to such hate. Her brown eyes were unreadable … glistening with sweetness rimming with tears.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t like it then, Bucky! I made you cum so hard every-time! What does she have that I don’t?!” Minthe screeches, her throat sore, and raw, banging her open-hands upon the table, demanding an answer.

“Class. Dignity. Kindness.” He spits, his teeth snaring, “Beauty.” A wicked grin, all fangs. A hit close to home, how he said it so cooly yet jarring, aware of Minthe’s fragile vanity.

“Beauty?” Minthe jeers, face twisted and scrunched, “I’m one of the most beautiful naiads you ever saw --- you said so yourself! I can do so much more for you! I love you!” Minthe points at Persephone, but her angry eyes never leave Bucky’s.

“All she can do is change the weather, she’s nothing. A lower god from the rest.” Raving foolishly with jealousy.

“Be careful how you speak to her, Minthe.” Bucky warns, with an unreadable grin, already sensing the seething anger that oozes from his wife.

“Or what?” Minthe hisses, “What can the little spring maiden do? Get pollen in my eyes?” She snickers, staring at Persephone now, “Just because you’re married to him, doesn’t make you queen.”

Persephone clicks her tongue, a sly smirk, chin tucked to chest, “But you will never be.” Minthe recoils back, offended by the mere words, laced in chilling venom, “That’s what you dream about, right? To be rid of me, and lay bare with my husband?”

Wordlessly, Minthe shrugs shamelessly, but her stance is a bit jittery at the feet.

Persephone’s gaze darkens under her arched brow, nostrils flared. “Just a maiden,” She mimics, humorlessly chuckles under her breath, memories jagged, and twisted flash behind her lids, of how her own mother, brothers and sisters diminish her value.

How can a goddess whose sole purpose is to bring life to spring thrive in the land of the dead? What can she do?

Minthe grips her goblet tighter, her fingers loosening a bit lax, Persephone leans forward, as her grip caresses the nape of Bucky’s neck, he purrs, devoted eyes, “I’m so much more than that.” Breathy venom flows from her lips, with such delicacy.

“Minthe, I proposed the idea of inviting your presence in our home to my husband. At first, he was repulsed,” She twirls the goblet between her, mindlessly eyeing the slouch of carmine liquid.

“But, then I told him of how I wish you to hurt you.” She turns her gaze to Bucky, tenderly nuzzling her nose against his, foreheads connect, his eyes placidly close, savoring each other’s essence.

“All the gory details to rip you apart,” her chest began to heave wickedly, “It excited him.” She laughs at the memory of Bucky begging to hear his wife speak such cruel fantasies, as he feasted between her legs in their bed; to hear her tremble over her venomous threats sent such a delightful thrill in him.

Bucky’s smirk stretches, murmuring hoarsely, ‘yeah it did.’

“Small, and insignificant unlike the plant.” Slim burgundy tips flicker with such a grace --- a hot-white pain dwindles as a sting, then it spreads upon Minthe’s breast-bone as wildfire, searing pain deep within her cavity, a scream bubbles from her throat, clutching her chest --- clawing fingernails scratching the skin.

The goblet falls from her grip, clanking against the floor, the wine spilling and seeping through the crevices of marbling.

“What is ever the matter, Minthe?” Bucky mocks, drinks a last sip of wine, entertained by the mere display of pain before him as if a dinner show.

Bones cracking, and snapping within flesh, sews of flesh rips, pieces flies in mid-air, blood-curdling scream fills both Bucky’s and Y/n’s ears as a fantastical symphony.

Her shoulder-blade cracks forth, flailing out of the chair, the wooden feet screeches against the flooring, dead body weight thumps ungraciously. Minthe’s fingers hover over her face, witnessing it cave, and disappear into itself; her arm disintegrating into nothingness.

Minthe shrills once more, trailing into a broken whine that strains in her throat, choppy cries for Bucky to help her, but it falls upon deaf ears.

Snickering as she kicks out her legs, sickening snaps of her toes bend back and break, her foot fractures in two, limps and caves into her flesh just as her hands. Blood splutters, and splashes in droplets, milky skin now shading into a forest green --- limbs now at a rapid-pace, gone into herself.

A wiggling torso, scrambling against the cooling marble, her voice gone into a mute scream.

Her cranium snaps, her eye bulging out of its socket, eyes blood-shot, spine splinters in pieces within her bodice, flesh wilting into she was absolutely … small. Nor longer a body, but a … leaf. A mint leaf.

Persephone stands over the shriveled mint plant, still quivering at the stem, she mockingly smiles at it, all the jests of family dulls and fades into mere whispers in her mind, “Who’s the weak little maiden now?” She sniffles, wet eyes now dilated.

Her legs jerks upward, snarling lip curls, heavily lands her heeled foot upon Minthe. A stomp that reverberates through the manor, a small crunch as she drills the heel with hate, and grit against the flooring --- grinding. Constant stomp after stomp, until the leaf was just wrinkled, and a bit torn.

Just as she can create life, she can easily destroy it.

Hands glide against her belly, soft hands against silk rove sweetly against her skin, Bucky’s warmth radiates against her back, rocking her back and forth against his body.

Her arms encircle his neck, her fingers twirl around his chestnut tresses, scratching his scalp, as he purrs against the slope of her neck.

He murmurs tenderly, “So proud of you.” Wispy kisses, as she nearly sobs of joy, the only person to truly understand her, praises her beyond any living being, sees her more than a mere maiden --- when he first laid eyes on her in the garden, as she gave a crushed rose life once more by loving lips, it was love at first sight.

She never once quivered in fear when he’s in a true form, a looming horrific god, foaming fangs, deadly rage --- she would just hold him, as if he was beautiful in her eyes.

How she can see beyond his darkness, how she lives within it so comfortably, easily became her home --- there’s no one but them, it will always be them against the world.

“Bucky …” She slithers, grinding her ass against his clothed groin, he growls, her hands groping, and cupping her perky breasts, pinching nipples between tips with a delicious twinge of pain.

“Yes … my love, my life.” His tongue licks a flat stripe from the pulse to her ear, suckling, and panting. Canines graze skin, a breathy grunt.

“Let’s head to bed.” A wanton moan, as she continues to dry-hump against her husband.

“Why the bed ---” He twirls her around, it was such a blur, she nearly gets whiplash, lifting her by the thighs, seating her upon the table; leaning over her as he thrashes dishes and candles away hastily, a nice flat surface for her to laid down on. “When I can ravish you right here.”

A hungry beast, eager paws tear at her top, rips the stitching, and bundling at her midriff --- her breasts spill out in a bouncy heave, diving down his mouth, engulfs her tit, sucking and biting. The heat of his mouth jolts her, as his other palm twists, and toys with her nipple.

Slaps it harshly, earning a high-pitched moan, as he devours her breast --- flickering his tongue against the nipple, a string of saliva connects; back to her nipple. Tugging on his hair, leaning upward, kissing his temple, cradling him against her breast-bone, as her other hand claws at his back.

Growling, Bucky suckles more of her tit in his mouth, her breast jiggles from his eager lips. Desperate groans, and moans echo, as he grinds himself down upon her mound, humping upon the creaking table.

“Oh for the love of the Gods --- not here! Go to your room, heathens!”

“Again on the table?! We eat here!”

“Off! Now!”

Shamelessly, Bucky detaches himself from her chest, a wet pop; his mouth slick with saliva, Persephone and himself giggles, not even caring that she’s exposed --- rather she relishes in it.

Stretching her arms above her head, with the most coy and sweetest smile, as her bare chest glistens with sheen by candlelight. Peering over his shoulder, Bucky sees three of his closest companions --- Hekate, Erinyes, and Hermes.

But they go by the mere mortal names of Wanda, Natasha, and Steve.

“Off, I say!” Natalia’s fiery carmine hair wizzes against her cheeks, as she stomps towards the entwined lovers, kind swats of her hands for them to move, as Bucky and her belly laugh at her puffed-up cheeks.

“Look at the good food --- spoiled! Gone to waste, cause you two can’t keep your hands to yourselves.” Steve whines, his blue-greenish hues encased by furrowed brows, he was looking forward to dinner.

Bucky mockingly ‘awhs’ at Steve, “Poor baby.” As he hugs his wife in his arms, pulling her up, covering her chest with his, kissing her hair, “Don’t worry, Stevie, more food can be prepared.” Sticking his tongue out at him teasingly.

The pure-white wings of Steve’s sandals’ soles flutter in defiance, “The table is soiled.” He spoke through gritted teeth, but smirks nonetheless.

Persephone chuckles in Bucky’s neck, kissing his bearded jaw, fiddling with his hair strands.

Royal blue oval nails nip the limp leaf, “Hmm, what do you wish to do with her?” Flopping the leaf jeeringly in her hand, snickering, “Perhaps, I could use her for a hex potion.” Wanda laughs darkly, her chocolate curls bounce a bit at the shoulders.

Aware of this little plan to lure Minthe here, just to die so violently, Wanda once suggested feeding Minthe to her venus fly-trap.

Soft eyes open with once more eerie calmness, leisurely a smile forms, “No, I have a better idea.” Persephone spoke over Bucky’s shoulder, tittering a malicious laugh.

---

The stench of decay, and despair clings to the rotted walls, dreary on the senses --- only darkness, but only casted light seeps through the open door. An eternal damnation of outcasting.

“Are you sure, my love?” Bucky asks for the hundredth time, knocking his knuckles against the cage in disgust, whispering under his breath, ‘this is too good for her.’ She hushes him, cupping his cheeks with her hands, squeezing them --- his lips pucker, with a tiny smile at her gleeful eyes.

Bowing his head down, in search of her lips, relinquishing her hold from his jaw. Encircling his arms around her waist, pulling her to himself by his hold tightly, melting her bodice against his --- skin against hot skin.

Sneaky fingers tread, and glide from the curve of her waist to the ample of her ass. Squeezing her cheeks, earning a muffled squeal.

“Darling …” She playfully scolds, lips just mere hairs away from his. Bucky pouts that her lips are not on his, whining, “Imagine it,” she nips his bottom lip, dragging it by the cages of her teeth.

“Shrouded in eternal darkness, hearing us living our lives, hearing us … make love. Hearing you fuck me with every inch of your cock in my wet cunt.” Bucky nearly wails, debauched, and wanton, his head cocks back, his eyes pinched shut, “Please my heart, let’s do this now.” He whines, she has the nerve to laugh, such a wicked minx.

“Patience, my love.” Quiet hum, a sweet kiss on his dimpled chin, and a nibble. “When I get back to the room, I expect you naked, and ready for me.” Her hand snakes down his chest, grabbing his clothed cock, massaging the weeping tip through his pants.

Sending a whimpering Bucky off with a swat to his ass, something flickers in her hues, something wicked. She gracefully tilts to the side, twirling smoothly on her heels. Slowly treading towards the cage that hung from the ceiling, surrounded by desolate isolation, an airy laugh through the nose, “Pathetic little nymph.”

Knuckles shades from sepia to icy white, gripping the metal cages harshly, the metal creeks and bends under her bruising strength.

“Since you wanted to live with Hades, so be it.” Fingers drum against the golden-gilded cage, tiny pained murmurs float near her ears, only herself able to hear it; it was pitiful.

She snickers once more, musing at the sensation of miniscule rage that radiates from the small plant, relishing in it all. She moans, fingers toying with the keyhole, dragging her nail down against the metal, a shrill of a scratch.

With a flick of her hair, flashing her wedding ring, goading; waltzing away with a gait, lethal and ethereal. The trail of her dress glides smoothly, a haunting laugh that echoes melodically yet chilling.

Gripping the carved knob, gazing back over her shoulder one more time, only her eyes sparkle as uncut gems, her dark silhouette illuminated by the hall’s lit candles --- a dewy vermillion glow surrounds her bodice.

It is said the god of death holds no love for anyone, that a demon befell from the heavens and tarnished the death god. This demon took hold of the god and held his soul, staining it beyond recognition. At least that’s what your mother said. Then again, she may have been biased on that. You’ve never really met the death god; your mother forbade it, going as far as banning his name in her presence. ‘He steals young virgins like yourself,’ she often loved to say, ‘Stay far from the fallen fields, lest he takes you away, my son.’

The warnings had done well to keep you away, but after centuries, your curiosity had peaked. The fallen fields were on the edge of your mother’s domain; they sat at the edge of your mother’s territory and belonged to the death god. Very few dared to enter them; it was often said the god of the dead traversed the fields. There wasn’t a gate to stop you from going; besides, you’d be back before your mother knew you were gone. These thoughts played in your head as you stood at the edge of your mother’s domain; the divide between it and the fields was as clear as day. The grass stopped being green at the border and carried on over in a dull tone. Most of the trees on the field appeared to be in a state of decay. You glanced over your shoulder and stepped through.

The fields were, despite your mother’s stories, quite lovely. Despite their initial appearance, the trees were far from dead; they hummed with life and welcomed you all the same as the other trees over the edge. The animals were also as odd; instead of flesh and fur, they were bones, skeleton ghosts living their lives as they would anywhere else. You held your hand up as a raven flew towards you, it landed on your hand, and you brought it closer for examination. Its outer body was a fine ghost-like form, with the visible skeleton underneath. It tilted its head at you and nuzzled into your other hand as it came to stroke the head. Whatever tales your mother had of this place were mistaken. More creatures came up to you; they directed you towards a clearing; they gathered around you as soon as you sat down. You must’ve dozed off at some point, as the next thing you knew, you awoke in the field.

The animals had moved from around to behind you as if shielding themselves from something ahead. You glanced towards the trees ahead of you; a dark shadow hung among them, emitting a low growl; the animals quivered behind you as the growl escalated. Now, a sensible person would undoubtedly turn tail and run; you, unfortunately, were not a rational person. Your response to this situation was to growl back at the shadow, which, surprisingly, worked. The shadow stopped growling before it spoke in a deep voice.

“Interesting.” it said, “you don’t fear me.”

“Should I?” you dared. There was a chuckle from the shadows before it dispersed. You barely had time to think about the interaction before the sound of your name resonated through the fields; your mother’s agitated voice had the animals moving away and back to the trees. You brushed off your apparel, sighed, and left the clearing.

To say your mother had been angry would be an understatement; as you approached her, you could make out the tell-tale signs of rage around her. Although her demeanor appeared calm, several of the trees nearby were twisting themselves into unnatural shapes; the ground underneath her was cracked, as though an earthquake had just occurred. As soon as you were in her reach, she grabbed you and dragged you over from the fields, inspecting you as though you’d been hurt. Once she’d been satisfied, she brought you into her arms for a hug.

“Promise me you won’t do that again.”’

“I promise.”

You’d like to say that you kept the promise and stayed away, you’d like to, but you didn’t. The shadow had been at the forefront of your mind since that day. Any time you could, you would sneak off to the fields and make your way back to the clearing; every time you were there, the shadow was as well. It hid in the trees; the only part of it you ever saw was its eyes.

“Why don’t you show yourself?”

“I have no desire to taint your perception of me.”

You tilted your head at the answer, “I have no perception of you; how can I when you insist on hiding away in the trees.”

The shadow chuckled, “You are a strange morsel,” it said before disappearing, this time, leaving a man in its place. The man appeared nervous, his hands wringing around each other as he exited the trees and approached you. Like with the shadow, the animals around you moved away; as he got closer, your eyes zeroed in on his neck where a medallion with the sigil of death hung. “I take it you are my shadow,” you amusingly said. “Tell me, death god, do you often take to keeping others company as you did with me?”

“Not really. People aren’t too fond of my other half,” at the words other half, a shadow emerged from the man’s shoulder.

“They’re not too fond of you either.” the voice it spoke in no doubt the same as your shadow. Turning to you, it extended from the man and came up directly to your face, “Scared yet morsel?”

“Not a chance,” you responded, drawing a happy laugh from the shadow and the man. After that, your visits to the field became more frequent, so much so your friendship grew. Eddie and Venom were the man and shadow pair and were nothing like what your mother had described. As you glanced down at Eddie, you felt the fond smile on your face, his head lay on your lap, as you both enjoyed the sun. His eyes opened and focused on you, “What?”

“We were thinking of inviting you to our castle,” he answered.

“Never pegged you for a castle person,” you teased.

Eddie rolled his eyes, “It was built for me when the fields were given to me, not a fan of it. Why do you think I’m always out here?”

“Thought you came out here for me.”

“And if I did?”

You lowered yourself to kiss him, drawing back you chuckled at the expression on his face, “I wouldn’t say I’d mind.”

You tilted your head as Eddie remained shocked; Venom emerged from Eddie in a wisp of shadow, laughing, “I think you broke him.”

“If that’s the case, would you do me the honor of showing me the castle?” Venom took over from Eddie; he stood from your lap and carried you in his arms.

The castle was quite a sight; Eddie and Venom had done little to personalize their home, unlike the other gods. Venom had huffed when you pointed that out, ‘If you want it decorated, then you can do it yourself, he’d muttered, which you took as an unofficial go-ahead to do so. By the time you were bound to leave for the day, their throne room was laden with flowers; you made sure to bring something new to add to the castle every visit. Books, baskets, trinkets, just about anything you could get your hands on.

“What is that?”

You turned away from the embroidery you’d brought in to Eddie, who was pointing at the dog you’d gotten him. “It’s a dog, dear.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, “last time I checked, dogs only had one head and weren’t the size of elephants.” He moved back as the dog yawned and bounded over towards you. “Where did you find him?”

“I didn’t find him; he found me,” Eddie said nothing else and watched in confusion as you rubbed the creature’s stomach. “His name’s Cerberus, by the way.” Eddie was in awe of you. His interaction with the other gods was little to none, with most of them terrified of Venom, the humans even more so; he barely had any company, if any. You brought life to his world and loved him and Venom.

‘If he brings life to our world, why not wed him.’ Venom had been criticizing him on that matter for days now; Eddie would love nothing more than to have you as his husband, but there was the matter of your mother. He doesn’t know what he did to her, but the woman just did not like him; come to think of it, Eddie doubts he’s even exchanged any words with her. ‘Elope then.’ Venom suggested.

‘Great idea, then she’d have a real reason to go after my head.’

Though now as he gazed at you, he weighed his chances, worst case scenario you say no - ‘Why would he say no? He loved us! - Venom interrupted his thoughts. Eddie didn’t say anything else and carried on weighing his options; the best-case scenario is you and him elope and live happily ever after. But he didn’t have a ring, which he might need. He felt Venom groan in frustration as he carried on his thinking; without warning, he found himself in the back seat as Venom took over.

You turned at the sound of Venom taking over, greeting him with a warm smile. The shadow took your hand and went down on one knee, “We know we’re not the best of the gods, nor are we the most beloved, but with you, we feel all that and more. We have no ring to offer. Instead, we give you our love,” he brought you closer and placed your foreheads together, “and a guarantee of loyalty for eternity.”

You were speechless at the declaration; tears welled in your eyes as you rapidly nodded, your response causing a happy purr to come from Venom. You didn’t return home that night, as the three of you eloped under the stars, with mother moon as your witness.

Like all good things, your happy little bubble with your husbands came to an end when your mother stormed the castle. After eloping, you’d chosen to stay in the fallen fields; admittedly, you’d forgotten to mention anything to anyone. Your mother paused as she caught sight of you and Eddie’s intertwined hands; the ground shook as her rage boiled over. Several arguments and an earthquake later, your mother left in a fury.

“Are you ok?” Venom asked, surfacing from Eddie.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because your mother just disowned you,” Eddie replied, “You-you don’t have to stay; not being with me gets you that.” Venom swiveled to face the god; you called out to them and drew their attention t you before they could start an argument. “Remember our vows?”

“We offer you our heart, our love, and eternity, as we handfast this night, in the eyes of the mother moon,” Eddie recited.

“We promise to stand together as equals, husband, and husband.” you finished off. “I chose you and Venom, I won’t leave your side, and if my mother or any other god has anything to say about it, well, then they can kiss my ass.”

Venom wrapped himself around you, “Only we get the privilege of kissing your ass.” he proudly declared; his declaration made you burst into laughter.

It is said the god of death and his demon only hold love for the god of spring and that no one, not even the other gods, dare come between them. Mother moon gave her blessing, and later on, she would bless them again by delivering a child.

“Is the child me?” your son asked, glancing between you and Eddie.

“Yes, it is,”

“Did mother moon really deliver me to you?”

You chuckled at your son’s question, “That she did. Didn’t even bother warning us; one moment we were dancing together, the next we heard a baby’s cries.” you told him, “You stole our hearts the second you opened your eyes.”

He yawned, and you to smile softly at him. “I think that’s enough stories for tonight; get some rest, see you in the morning.” Eddie ruffled the kid’s hair; both of you tucked him in and kissed him goodnight. You closed the door behind you, taking Eddie’s hand in yours; you led him back to your room; that night, you fell asleep in the arms of your husbands.

Bonjour my Croissants 🥐

I hope you enjoyed this shite, don't forget to drop your thoughts and if you have a request for something you want me to write, go ahead, Requests are Open.

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Naked and wet, you were settled between Bucky’s hard thighs- withering and whimpering under his touch. The feel of his heavy tunic scratched your shoulder blades and his bulge kissed the curve of your ass

He smirked at your failed attempts to make demands. Half-words and crumbled noises fell out of you filling the room instead. For months, he had tried to pull an agreement of marriage from you but his frustrations were growing and his ideas were waning.   

Your toes curled and skidded over the floor with every smooth flick of his wrist against your core. Seeking an anchor, you coiled your leg around his and latched your hands on him for support.

“If I call it off, halt the plan- we’ll need to marry soon,” Bucky’s words scorched your ears, his arm tightening around your waist. 

This time your leg muscles did give out. It wasn’t from the melody he played against your clit but at the thought of tying yourself to another.

“Can’t let a body like this go to anyone else,” Bucky bit his thoughts into the soft skin of your neck.

Grabbing his wrist, you ignored his words and guided his fingers to dip deeper in your slit. The feel of him inside, working you towards the edge, helped you disregard his thoughts about marriage.

“I mean it, darling,” Bucky stilled your movements, his fingers stinging inside you with a twist before cupping your mound. 

He grinned at your surprised gasp, savoring the feel of you rubbing and pushing yourself further back on his clothed erection.  

Bucky’s hand tightened around the collar of your throat, his thumb ghosting over your pulse, “Give in. Say you’re mine.”

“I don’t need a husband,” you panted, rolling your hips around his fingers and rubbing your ass painfully against his dampened tunic. “Only a lover.”

“Get up. Get out,” Bucky ordered abruptly, slapping your sex and releasing his grip. “I’m tired of this.”

“What the hell, Bucky!” Tumbling forward, you steadied yourself on shaky legs and watched him wipe his fingers on the bed cover- something unrecognizable in his expression. “Stop acting like this. Things are fine the way they are.” 

“If you address me in the future, you will use my formal title, Hades.” 

“You can’t be serious-” 

“Friends and lovers call me Bucky. You’re neither.” 

Stifling the urge to argue, you pushed past him and gathered your discarded clothing. Keeping your eyes on the god of the dead, a small seed of fury planted itself within you.

___

Hermes delivered the announcement at 9 am; it was not an invitation, gods only send demands.

He hovered between a set of tall pillars outlining your garden, uneasily shuffling his feet back and forth. 

“I need to watch you read it,” he explained, handing you a scroll adorned with black and gold cording.

“That’s not necessary. I already know,” You retorted crisply, remembering your recent encounter with your former lover and noting his colored cording. “I wanted him to call off the idea after he told me what he planned to do if I wouldn't commit.” 

Turning your back on Hermes, you walked further down the garden’s path, dismissing him and the god of the underworld’s message. But he was quick to follow, staying close while you twisted and turned about in the flowered lanes. 

“I really must insist,” Hermes easily cut in front of you, halting your escape, “that you read it.”

It was an awkward standoff of sorts, him waiting for you to open the scroll and you trying to dissect his actions for his unusual, intrusive behavior. The problem for poor Hermes was everyone wanted to shoot the messenger. 

“And why must you, Hermes?”

“Because.. the plans are official, he set a date.”

Hermes looked away when you hissed at his answer and noticed the array of macabre plants and berries, “I never understood why you harvest these plants if they’re dangerous. Why nurture things that only cause death?”

“Children are nurtured into men, do they not also cause death?" you answered, stroking the leaves of the deadly plants. "We can't have sunshine all the time."

Hermes watched you slowly thumb the poisonous berries and gaze over at the lethal flowers. His eyes narrowed at your words and reluctantly admitted, “I insisted because he wishes to know your reaction when you read the announcement.”

----

The night was quiet, the moon branded its image across the undisturbed water. Artemis sat beside you, turning the scroll over in her hands. The announcement invited villagers to offer a gift worthy to gain the favor of the god of the underworld. And in turn, Hades would select a bride out of the guests.  

“Do you think many will go to him and offer a bid?”

“Not the maidens dear to me,” Artemis’ eyes harden at the thought of betrayal. “The other villages- it’s always been their choice. People know there are risks when putting themselves on the path for a god’s attention. The question, my dear, is are you ready?”

“The field is set.” 

“And which one are we speaking of?” Artemis smiled at your vagueness.

“Both, but yours will bloom- grounds thick and plentiful before next month’s hunt. Mine will wither tonight.”

Squeezing your hand, Artemis studied your features. “Moonlight highlights the darkness in you, my dear. It’s quite becoming, something I shall miss.”

____

You fixed a brooch for one maiden and reset another’s headband before moving to straighten a young man’s hat. Gently dabbing the wine stain off an elderly lady’s chin, you paid extra attention to her paper-thin skin. Lifting a robust man’s head from the table, you tugged off the dinner plate stuck to the side of his face. Frowning at the sight, you wiped the salted fish oils off his cheek and the bread crumbs from his forehead. 

Bucky watched you clean and straighten each guest with wordless, tender movements. Something deceptively endearing for the mass homicide you just committed against his guests. 

The edge of your tunic picked up broken ceramic pieces and dipped into the remaining puddles of the toxic wine you gifted the room; mopping and dropping red streaks and shiny shards with each step. 

Earlier you stood in line with the other guests waiting to be announced. Some held treasures they could carry in one hand, others boasted of containers that were too large or heavy to bring into the hall. 

Rare jewels, unique animals, expensive ingredients, rich materials- the gifts were vast. The attendants all hoped to gain the underworld’s god favor and have a family member win a seat next to him on the throne. Drenched in confidence, each person believed they possessed the singular offering that would make them worthy to marry a god by the end of the night. 

Chaos broke out shortly after the main dish was served. Guests already drinking their fill and dunking bread into the lethal wine.

It started with a faint cough in the distance as you cut into another loaf. There was a cry for help across the room when you bit into an olive. Chairs turned over, tableclothes ripped to the ground, bodies slumped as you cut into the meat. 

Needs more seasoning, you thought. 

By the time you cleaned your plate and were ready for dessert, the room wheezed out its last breath of life. The servants had long since run away.  

Leaning forward in his chair, Bucky unfolded his arms and pressed his lips into a thin, grim line while watching his guests’ lives disintegrate in the dark hall.

The once boisterous room was eerily still, neither of you willing to speak until he finally broke the silence, “I do not declare winners by default, Persephone. Explain yourself.”

“My gift to you, Hades, is simple. I bring you more loyal subjects for you to rule over in your kingdom, god of the dead.”