cringecopulation

[cringecopulation]

Blood and Darkness

✦ Zagreus (Hades 2018) x Gender Neutral Reader. ✦ Warnings: slight mentions of gore (no details; in the game, Zagreus is killed over and over and is often covered in blood), head injury (reader is hurt, non-fatally, and is knocked out by hitting their head), mentions of Zagreus’ sexual escapades (no descriptions), reader is a servant of the house of Hades and is described as a shade, no smut (😞)... yet (😏). ✦ Word Count: 2.1K. ✦ Read on AO3. ✦ Part 1 / ?

You've heard rumors about Hades' son.

They say he's not in possession of a particularly impressive stature; he's of average height, with dark hair, and he's quite thin, really, for a God. That's what he is, after all, just a God of the Underworld. One of many. And one who looks like he's not indulging himself in ambrosia and nectar as much as he should be at that, it almost seems like he's ungrateful for all the blessings and curses that come along with being the Prince of the Underworld.

They describe him as far smaller and more pathetic than Achilles, their blush showing on their ghostly complexions as they describe how his hair is cropped close to his neck and black and unflowing, not at all like the golden locks that fall around Achilles' nape.

Oh, Achilles, why must you torture us with your divine beauty and arrogant sneer? We know our ghastly, hellish faces are unworthy of your gaze, but a small, simple kindness-- in the form of a smile from your handsome face-- would satisfy us for eternities to come. By Achilles, by Thetis, and by Zeus, please let him stroll by and be pleased by something enough to smile for us, even if his pleasure comes from our misery. Surely, one of us can think of something to poke fun at Hector... much like the spear of Achilles' poked at his neck... surely so, surely so...

They... say a lot of things, but they always call him Zagreus, which means 'great hunter'. But by the rumors you've heard, it... doesn't seem like Zagreus' name fits him very well. In Tartarus' maze, everything becomes prey to those that inhabit the different levels of death and despair that come before you feel the sun's warm embrace, or so you've heard. You've never actually felt the sun, but you have heard Achilles brag about it to Hades, reminding the king of his very eventful life on earth. The sun doesn't reach this far down, though, and is unable to illuminate the depths of Hades' realm or comfort those who call it home. Here, predators lurk around every moss-covered turn, under every magma-concealing rock, behind every skullified hero's dug-up grave, and even amongst the distinguished guests that frequent the house of Hades.

From the whispers you've strained to hear, it seems like Zagreus wants out of this place-- the Underworld, that is. The shades, your main source of information on Zagreus and the other residents of the house, love to gossip, and they say he's still not been successful in escaping the darkness that has consumed him since he was born. Some root for him, hoping that one day his laurels will know what it feels like to soak in the blazing sun like the blessed olive trees they were harvested from, while others laugh at his failure, joining Hypnos' chorus of dramatic mocking, when they see him rise from the blood once again.

He's always covered in it, head to toe, deep red and maroon coating his limbs and soaking from his limbs as if it were his own. Much of it is, considering the amount of times he's died, but that doesn't make it any less pitiful to see the Prince rise from the fluid of life (and death), unrelenting in his attempts to escape his home. He'd hardly call it that, of course, as you've heard him say as he climbs the marble steps leading from the pool of blood, wiping his glowing feet on the carpet that you think was one of Arachne's (hence its purpose being for Zagreus to wipe his bloody feet on.)

The thing about marble-- what the house of Hades is made out of-- is that it doesn't absorb sound in the slightest. It's a curse for embarrassed shades trying to quietly explain how they arrived in Tartarus early because their pet goat rammed them in the stomach, but a blessing for beings like you who get most of their daily excitement from the things that they hear refracted off of the cool stone walls.

Marble also doesn't quickly absorb any liquid poured onto its surface, despite being a porous stone, which means that you, one of the poor shades tasked with cleaning, have a lot of work to do. Guests in the house get rowdy at the kitchen bar sometimes, drinking too much ambrosia and leaving various liquids behind. Sometimes water from the river Styx drips from cracks in the ceiling, pooling and causing problems for anyone whose flesh comes in contact with the liquid. And on the worst days, the most stubborn of fluid comes in contact with the objects you're in charge of keeping tidy.

One of Cerberus' heads is a particularly messy eater, which means that sometimes droplets of blood from a cut of meat (or carcass) he's eating are flung onto precious objects. Another guest, who is said to be armed with a barbed whip, has been said to make her victims cry blood on occasion, staining the good dinner napkins and frustrating you profusely. But by far, the being who makes the worst, bloody messes, is Zagreus himself.

Despite him wiping his feet on the carpet and despite your polite suggestion to him-- a sheet for him to dry off with laid over the marble railing, Zagreus continuously trails blood all over the house. And it doesn't help that the Prince behaves like a dog, prodding at his ears when they're clogged with blood and scratching at his head to dislodge it from his scalp. He's even shook like a filthy mutt before, letting drops of blood fly from his dark hair and unknowingly creating hours of cleanup for you. You've always been forgiving, though, considering that for one, you don't have much of a choice, and two, that you've never actually spoken to Zagreus in all of your years working for the house. You've heard his name boomed in anger from Hades' decision chamber, whispered by a loose-lipped shade with an audience to entertain, and uttered during more private affairs when you shouldn't have been pressing an ear to the dark wood of his bedchamber.

But things happen. And you've never met him, so you don't feel too bad or worry too much about ever being in his presence. He's always gone anyway, wooing an undead maiden when he's not fighting to flee the house, you presume. So when you enter his bedroom dust off his belongings and collect his blood and gut soiled robes, you pay little attention to your surroundings.

You've been in his sleeping chambers many times since you've been trusted with entry, something the other cleaning shades consider a privilege. You scoff at the idea that cleaning up the Prince's dirty laundry, various collected knickknacks, and... bodily fluids is at all a privilege, but you do as you're told anyway because admittedly, it is interesting to be provided with such an intimate view of someone you've never met. There's so much to be told by someone's bedroom, or in Zagreus' case, the state of someone's sheets (his always are in various stages of disarray from his frequent activities held within the bedchamber), and you don't at all mind the exclusive perspective on the Prince.

You do, however, mind that he tracks blood everywhere. Usually, you're more aware of it, considering how much of your life you spend cleaning it up, but this time, you're not so lucky as to notice its presence. Abnormally, the carpet that cushions the foot of Zagreus' bed is kicked up in one spot so that when you move to straighten the books on his bookshelf, not only do you trip on the carpet, but you slip in a pool of blood, streaking it across the tile as you fall hard onto the floor. The force with which your head hits the hard, stone floor would surely have killed you had you not died ages ago, but in this extended lifetime, all it does is send the lower half of your body into the bookshelf's feet, knocking books, scrolls, and what are surely precious artifacts from Zagreus' journeys flying to the floor in a great crash that shakes and echoes through the room.

Although you're thoroughly disoriented and on the verge of passing out, you still hear a gravelly, skeletal voice in the distance say, "Maybe you'd better investigate that, boyo. Unless you don't got the guts! I sure don't! Ha ha ha!" before your eyes close and your mind descends to darkness.

Rest, even when injury is involved, is rare for a servant of Hades like you, and it feels like only a moment has passed before your eyes are opening again, drowsy and weak as the lids flutter open. While you can't quite understand why yet, you notice that you're lying on a bed softer than a cloud and warmer than the sun (as you imagine it), and that soft voices are speaking in hushed tones nearby. One is older than the other, and commands the other to be more quiet as he worries, as though he's fretting about you.

Your sight comes back to you gradually, and you see that a red blanket with golden lining is draped over your legs and midsection comfortably, keeping you warm and still as the shocks of the pain from your head pulse through your body. Your neck hurts too, but it retains just enough of its strength that you're able to lift your hurting head and see the two forms hovering at the bedside, far enough to indicate that they were worried you might spring up like an undead warrior looking for revenge, but concerned enough that they needed to stay close.

The one on the left, who's farther from you, is a reanimated human's skeleton. A Bloodless, as they're called, was once a mortal warrior that did not receive a proper burial, and is now forced to roam the Underworld aimlessly, looking for a fight that might bring them eternal peace. It's a foolish game to play, of course, as all wise men know that no war will ever bring peace. This Bloodless doesn't seem mindless like the others though, and is able to make eye contact with his bright red irises, although he seems uncomfortable doing so. He looks at his partner when you meet his gaze.

His partner stands closer to you, his face full of concern as it points at you, studying you. He's not very tall, but he's muscular as if he uses his body more than the average God trapped in Tartarus for all of eternity, and the half of his torso that's revealed lacks scarring-- in the dimness of the room, it's almost like his skin is glowing faintly. His face is kind and handsome, unlike anyone you've ever seen before. On top of his short, dark hair rests a loop of multi-colored laurels whose crimson color fades into red, which fades into copper, which fades into gold.

It sits on his head like a crown, much like the dark-haired child in the portrait of Cerberus that hangs in the great hall wore, you think. Identical to it, even. You've never actually stopped to read the plaque that hangs beneath the masterpiece, so you're not sure who the child or his companions are or what their names could be-- you just know that he is of the utmost importance to Hades considering he is the center of a few artistic representations, which Hades isn't often fond of. But before you can begin your quest to discover the identity of the child in the portrait, he speaks.

"Hello, dear friend," he says softly. "Can you hear me?"

You swallow, hoping your voice still works, and say, "Yes."

"Woah! This one's got no respect for royalty! They just employ any-body these days! Ha!" the Bloodless jokes, and his partner pushes him over, making him nothing more than a scattered pile of bones.

Your stomach drops as all the blood rushes to your head all at once, and your heart starts beating so hard you can hear it in your ears, a pounding rhythm usually reserved for life-or-death situations. Suddenly, the room becomes familiar again-- the picture frames you've dusted and the knickknacks you've arranged and the blankets you've straightened thousands of times become clear to you.

You're in Zagreus' bedroom.

Prince Zagreus' bedroom.

And you're lying in his bed.

And the man, who was once a baby with a crown of laurels forced (by magic) to sit still for a portrait, is right in front of you.

The one person in the house of Hades who you've never come in contact with is standing at your bedside because you slipped in his blood.

You are so extremely damned. Somehow, even more than the first time you got damned to Tartarus for all eternity.

Blood and darkness.

tagging people I think might like this <3

@vampireloverz @allright @transchainsawman @moonsong1027 <3

[cringecopulation]

summer's in the air and baby heaven's in your eye (Portgas D. Ace)

for the @bastardblvd Wet Hot Slimeball Summer Collab :3 my prompt was "fireworks"

content warnings: 930 words, friends with benefits Ace, reader can be read as trans or cis, Ace can be read as trans or cis, reader's anatomy is referred to as cock, length, and tip, reader is called handsome as a pet name once, reader is hairy 🗣🗣🗣

By clicking "keep reading," you are agreeing that you are 18+ and read the content warnings.

"Come by Monkey D's Fireworks after hours if you want to see sparks 😈"

You stared at the text that came with a picture of Ace holding his uniform shirt up to show off his muscles in a small bathroom mirror. You'd fucked around a few times before, but you pulled away when it started to get too serious. It had been a few weeks since you'd fucked him. It had been a few weeks since you'd fucked anyone.

One more time couldn't hurt, right?

The bell on the door chimed as you opened it, and almost immediately, you heard a familiar voice from another corner of the store.

"We close in five minutes!"

"I know!" You called back. You could hear excited footsteps coming towards you until Ace appeared at the end of an aisle.

"Hey!" Ace smiled, as big and bright as his personality, as he wrapped you in a tight hug. He was sweaty from stocking all day, but he smelled oddly good.

"Hey, how have you been?" You asked, trying to ignore the familiar heat rising between your legs. You forgot how good he looked up close.

"Good! Been busy today. What about you?" He pulled back and looked you up and down, his big hands remaining on you. His gaze was unabashedly lustful. Like he was already imagining you naked.

"Good. Could be better though…"

You couldn't meet his eyes, but you could feel the smugness radiating off of him. Did he choose a tighter uniform shirt just to fuck with you?

"Yeah? You here to take me up on my offer?"

You remained silent, trying to get him to take a hint. But, as always, he liked teasing you.

"Yes or no, handsome, it's your choice."

"Yes," you said, barely audible.

"What was that?" Ace asked, turning his head and leaning down towards you as if he didn't hear you.

"Yes," you said, louder this time. That stupid smile crossed his face again.

"Follow me."

Ace locked the door and turned off the "Open" sign before leading you into the backroom. With the key on his lanyard, he unlocked the employee bathroom. The second the door closed, he was on you. He kissed you like he wanted to devour you, his excitement more than clear. He quickly graduated to kissing down the side of your neck, trying not to leave visible bruises. He was never careful enough, though.

"Ace," you tugged on his hair. You were trying to get his attention, but it only made him moan.

"Ace!" That got his attention. He pulled back and looked down at you with confusion.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just… Are you sure this is the best place we could be doing this?"

A blush crossed his face.

"I cleaned it earlier in case you said yes," he admitted. You smiled and pulled him back down into another kiss.

His hands traveled down your waist to your hips and he undid the button and zipper of your pants. He pulled them down your thighs as ke knelt to the ground. Your face felt like it was on fire when you looked down at him. He could see just how aroused you were through your underwear. He gently kissed your cock through the thin fabric before pulling them down as well.

He took a moment to admire the thick hair trailing down your stomach. He smiled and ran his hands over the hair on your thighs before kissing the tip of your cock again. He always loved doing that. Your head fell back as he finally took you in his mouth. He sucked softly to start, his tongue dragging up the underside of your cock. You buried your hand in his hair again, just to ground yourself. He easily took your whole length into his mouth and he moaned at the taste of you.

He was a vision with his face buried in your bush, his cheeks flushed, and his big, brown eyes looking up at you with pure lust. He gripped your hips as he sucked your cock, occasionally pulling back to tease the tip by swirling his talented tongue around it. You were too lost in the sensation of his mouth in you to notice one of his hands going down his shorts.

"Ace, fuck," you moaned out. You were almost embarrassed at how quickly you were close to cumming, but his mouth just felt too good. He could feel you throb against his tongue, which only made him double his efforts. You gripped his hair and almost shoved his face against your hips as you came. You felt like your legs would collapse under you, but he pressed a strong, thick forearm against your stomach to pin you to the wall.

After you felt like you could stand again, you let go of his hair and looked down at his face. Spit and cum dripped down his chin.

"Do you want me to return the favor?" You asked, still trying to catch your breath.

"I, uh," Ace chuckled and you looked down from his face to see his hand, which was dripping with his own cum, "I'm good. Unless you want to come over to my place?" He smiled up at you. How could you ever say no?