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⚝Pluto Through the Houses⚝

(Brought to you by Sailor Pluto)

(I apologize for the wonky layout and writing. This one took it out of me for some reason)

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Did you know that Pluto was only discovered in 1930? Many associate it with mystery and darkness. In astrology, Pluto is said to represent our dark side or shadow self, as well as humanity's. As the furthest planet from the Sun its orbit around the system takes around 248 years, and due to its eccentricity, it can take between 12 to 31 years to pass through a sign. Pluto rules Scorpio and the Eighth House, and it is considered the last of the transcendental planets and the higher octave of Mars.

The energy of Pluto may not be obvious, but its effects can be overwhelming. Pluto is associated with transformation, regeneration, and rebirth. Although Pluto's influence can be unpleasant, it is effective. It compels us to discard the old and embrace the new, and we must be prepared for this change. Otherwise, we may find ourselves trapped in misery. Pluto challenges us to transcend our limitations, undergo a process of redemption, and emerge stronger as a result. Despite its creative abilities, Pluto also has a destructive side. It governs the underworld, crime, and subversive activities such as terrorism and dictatorships. Pluto represents secrecy and concealment of hidden activities. Nobody can deny Pluto's power and intensity, as it also rules atomic power. Its energy is often directed toward the masses and their collective actions. Pluto urges people to look inward and explore their subconscious, even if it's frightening. Pluto has a way of pushing people's buttons.

The planet Pluto symbolizes intense changes, mutations, removals, sexuality, attraction, influence, and confidentiality. It brings destruction that leads to rebirth, trauma, and hidden mysteries. It represents things underneath the surface, the subconscious, violence, power, control, obsessions, desires, dictators, sadistic individuals, death, kidnapping, coercion, viruses, waste, violent characters, powerful and instinctive, and possessing hidden strengths. Pluto governs Scorpio and is related to sexual organs and excretion.

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⚝Pluto in the 1st house⚝

When Pluto is located in your first house, it suggests that you possess a commanding aura and possess a fervent and fervid personality. This planetary position indicates that your body is robust and can endure considerable strain. Nevertheless, having Pluto in the first house comes with difficulties. It suggests that you experienced a traumatic event during your childhood that has had a profound impact on you. Planets that are located in the first house are highly influential and have a potent influence on the physical realm.

Pluto in the first house has a big impact on the native's personality and self-expression. Someone with this placement typically possesses a strong desire for transformation and renewal in one's life and the possibility of profound psychological insight and understanding. Those who have Pluto in their first house may desire control. As such, they develop a tendency to assert their power in their relationships and interactions with others. They must remain aware of their proclivity for manipulation and direct their energy toward constructive and positive endeavors. When meeting new people, you may feel as if you are an outsider. This could be because you feel different and excluded as if you have a special purpose or reality. As a result, you may approach the world with caution and a desire to keep a safe distance between your true self and the outside. This is to avoid being duped or caught up in the plans of others.

Pluto in the first house also indicates that you may have been subjected to significant trauma and emotional pain as a child, which can cause you to emit an intense and dark aura that others can easily detect. People tend to perceive who you are, ignoring anything other than your physical appearance or any superficial traits, mostly out of fear. You have a magnetic personality that makes a strong first impression. When people meet you, they either love you or hate you, and some may even be irrationally attracted to you. Here, Pluto gives you power through charisma. With Pluto in this position, you may be perceived as powerful, intense, and mysterious, which may cause some people to be suspicious of you. Others may notice your strength, but you may prefer to be reserved and secretive, valuing and protecting your privacy.

Pluto, being the furthest planet from the Sun and shrouded in darkness and mystery, is comparable to people with Pluto in the first house in that they are difficult to understand, even for those who have known them for a long time. In astrology, Pluto is associated with power and control, and a strong Pluto in the natal chart can indicate a control freak or someone obsessed with power. With Pluto in the first house, the issue of personal power becomes especially important. Pluto in the first house indicates that you discover power within yourself, and it is a fundamental aspect of your identity for people like you. You learned early on to protect and save yourself because you were forced to find your power when you couldn't rely on others. This placement makes you extremely resilient, but despite what others may think, you frequently feel insecure.

You have a fear of rejection or not being accepted for who you are, which is likely a painful experience you had when you were young. Pluto in the first house can also indicate a very strong ego and people with this placement often find it difficult to forgive others. This placement can make you vengeful and uncooperative when feeling opposed or controlled, especially if you have difficult aspects. However, because your natal Pluto is in the first house, you have above-average regenerative abilities, which means you can experience deep renewal several times throughout your life, even when most people are unable to. This is true both physically and mentally.

You may have endured significant trauma that has affected you in various ways throughout your life. The first house represents a person's early years, starting from their birth, and Pluto's positioning in this house could signify a challenging childhood experience. Many individuals with this placement may have encountered abuse and violence, particularly during their formative years, were born prematurely, or were themselves set up for a controlled life since birth. Pluto is a planet associated with the darker side of astrology, making it complex to navigate. Although not always violent, it often is. In the first house of the natal chart, Pluto typically points towards power struggles that may have occurred within the family during the individual's childhood. Perhaps their parents exerted dominance and exploited them in some way, as this is a common manifestation of Pluto. Such early experiences can have a long-lasting impact on a person's life, similar to how a nail leaves a hole even after it is removed from the wall. Pluto can cause profound wounds in the soul, and some people with Pluto in the first house may find it difficult to recover from such profound pain.

If Pluto is negatively aspected in the chart, the individual may exhibit irritability. However, if Pluto is positively aspected, the individual may possess strong healing abilities and be able to help others effectively. By working through their issues, they can inspire others to do the same and lead by example.

⚝Pluto in the 2nd house⚝

The presence of Pluto in the 2nd house can lead to profound transformations in their relationship with their possessions, finances, and self-worth. This placement often signals a strong desire to establish control and power over one's material resources, which can have both positive and negative effects. On the one hand, it can result in great financial success and the ability to accumulate wealth and resources. On the other hand, it can lead to an unhealthy fixation on money and material possessions, which can cause significant stress and anxiety. It's crucial for individuals with Pluto in the 2nd house to strive for a healthy balance between their desire for control and their need for emotional fulfillment and stability.

Individuals with this placement typically keep their wealth and financial status hidden and may appear more modest than they are. They possess a resourceful and intuitive understanding of how to manage finances and make assets yield profit. It's worth noting that many wealthy individuals have Pluto in the 2nd house due to this placement's association with extreme financial success.

This position denotes a strong desire for material possessions and financial success. When you want something, you want it. People with Pluto in the second house are obsessed with what they want. They can devise brilliant plans to achieve their financial objectives, but they can also find ways to obtain what they desire in other areas of life. Pluto is the planet of authority. When it is placed in the second house, you feel the need to control your life, as well as the ability to control others through money. Regarding people as your possession and treating them as such. This could be a problem in your relationships. A natal Pluto in the second house indicates that you want to be in charge of your finances and that you can be secretive about money. Here, there is a lot of conflict between mine (the second house) and yours (Pluto and the eighth house), giving proclivity to want what others have, as well as, wanting something just for the sake of owning it.

Individuals with Pluto in the second house may tend to hold onto material possessions and people due to a fear of letting go. This can lead to an overly materialistic mindset and a failure to recognize the importance of non-material aspects of life. Pluto's placement in the second house can also bring painful life lessons related to material possessions, with the goal of teaching individuals to let go and not prioritize money above all else. Those with Pluto in the second house may struggle with self-esteem and a belief that their worth is tied to their wealth. This may stem from childhood experiences of financial crisis and feeling undervalued. However, they need to learn that their value as a person is not defined by their financial status. Obsessive spending and self-destructive behavior may also be manifestations of this placement. Overall, it is crucial to recognize the potential fears and subconscious issues associated with Pluto in the second house and work towards healthy ways of managing them.

It's very likely that you've faced financial challenges during childhood. Your family may have experienced financial difficulties or lacked financial management skills, resulting in the deprivation of possessions or resources. However, these early struggles can be a powerful motivator for you to strive for financial success later in life. Pluto's influence is strong and resilient, making it difficult to overcome. But with this placement, you have the ability to conquer financial obstacles and turn debt into wealth. A natal Pluto in the second house can manifest as resourcefulness and transformation, which are common traits found in the charts of successful and wealthy individuals. This placement may also make you rebel against the norms and authority figures imposed on you as a child. Buried anger and frustrations may surface during times of crisis. In extreme cases, this placement can lead to greed and a willingness to do anything for money and power. A natal Pluto in the second house can indicate a career in research, banking, managing money, taxation, or investments. But because Pluto also rules the underworld in astrology, this placement may also suggest involvement in sex work or crime. You may earn money through partnerships or even inheritances if supported by the chart.

⚝Pluto in the 3rd house⚝

Your communication style can be intense and transformative. Your words hold a lot of weight and may have a powerful effect on those who hear them. However, this can also lead to power struggles and communication breakdowns in your relationships. It's important to find a balance between expressing your truth and respecting others' perspectives. Remember to listen as much as you speak and be open to learning from those around you. The third house is associated with siblings, early childhood, primary education, and your immediate surroundings. Pluto in the third house indicates that you are a deep thinker with a powerful mind. However, you may struggle with direct or blunt communication. Connecting with others may have been difficult for you as a child, which has left an impression on you as an adult. With Pluto in the third house, you are attracted to what is concealed and what is left unsaid. You understand the hidden machinery and what is secretly at stake when communicating with others. Your communication takes into account underlying information, and you are aware of the subtle quirks and changes in others' body language and speech.

Having Pluto in the third house may indicate a challenging start to your life, with some individuals experiencing traumatic childhood events. However, it's important to note that several indicators in the chart must be present for this to be the case. When Pluto has harmonious aspects, its effects are much lighter. People with Pluto in the third house often keep family secrets and may have intense or dark relationships with siblings. They may also use code language or have an interest in the local underground scene or criminal activity.

For some individuals, trauma may have occurred within their peer groups or school environments. This can result in deep emotional wounds, feelings of isolation and misunderstanding, and potential speech problems that require therapy. It's common for those with this placement to feel like they don't fully fit in and to encounter power struggles or betrayal.

If Pluto in the third house has hard aspects, there may be difficulties with neighbors or relatives and a higher risk of accidents. However, harmonious aspects can bring strong and beneficial connections with friends and family. It's important to be cautious when driving or in traffic.

There's a possibility of experiencing family bereavement, specifically the loss of siblings. The third house in your natal chart represents various people in your life, including your siblings. As such, your relationship with your siblings might be strained. You may perceive them to be self-centered, powerful, or even dangerous. If there are hard aspects to Pluto from Mars, Saturn, or Uranus, it can indicate rivalry between you and your siblings. Pluto is linked to power struggles, which can manifest in your relationship with your siblings or relatives. People with this placement may have experienced verbal abuse from their family members, and often have a sarcastic sibling or family member. On the other hand, if your natal chart shows harmonious aspects with Pluto in the third house, it can indicate a powerful sibling who acts as a protector in your relationship. You may hold them in high regard, and your siblings may initiate a transformational process in your life.

You possess a strong grasp of the power of communication. This placement implies you are selective about what you share with others and have the ability to keep and uncover secrets. You are also skilled at collecting data and piecing together small bits of information. You have an inquisitive and powerful mind, with a tendency to obsess over thoughts, overanalyze and not give up until you find a solution. However, this thinking process may differ drastically from those around you, making it difficult to connect with your peers. At times, you may come across as blunt or shocking to others. An unevolved Pluto in the third house may suggest an aggressive personality. These individuals do not sugarcoat their feelings and can manipulate others through their words and gestures. As they mature, they become extremely persuasive communicators. This placement indicates a fascination with taboos and mysteries, such as the occult, psychology, death, sex, and crime. Individuals with Pluto in the third house are life-long learners, often learning best on their own. They have a highly analytical mind and are avid readers.

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⚝Pluto in the 4th house⚝

The placement of Pluto in the 4th house indicates that your family or home environment may have been the site of intense power struggles or upheavals, leading to deep psychological transformation and rebirth. You may have a strong desire for privacy and control over your domestic affairs, which can sometimes cause you to feel isolated or emotionally distant from others. It is important to address any unresolved emotional issues from your past to create a stable and nurturing home environment for yourself and your loved ones. You may feel a sense of distance and difference between yourself and your family, and you may not always feel in perfect harmony with those around you. However, this uniqueness is also your strength and can drive your personal growth. You may feel that you hold a truth that eludes ordinary people and those in your circles, making you difficult to label or define.

Individuals who have Pluto in the fourth house often have a history of coming from troubled families, which may include domestic abuse or violence. This placement can be challenging to interpret in the natal chart, and it typically indicates that their childhood circumstances were less than ideal. Unfortunately, these patterns often repeat themselves in their adult home and family life, leading to power struggles, particularly with one of their parents/caregivers. These conflicts leave a deep wound in their soul, and the rage is frequently buried in their subconscious, subtly controlling their life. Moreover, many individuals with Pluto in the fourth house have some karmic heritage to work through before they can create a loving and supportive family environment. Ideally, the fourth house should serve as a place of safety and support for a child, but this is not always the case when Pluto is present. People who have Pluto in the fourth house frequently experience struggles early on and might come from unstable families. This placement often indicates that they perceived their fourth house parent as dictatorial, controlling, or even manipulative. Additionally, Pluto in the fourth house with hard aspects can indicate domestic violence or abuse. Therefore, the presence of difficult aspects here frequently indicates a troubled parent. The fourth house represents the mother, and this placement usually represents a domineering one. In extreme cases, the parent may be narcissistic, and their desire to control their child might persist even after they have moved out and grown up. Furthermore, individuals with Pluto in the fourth house rarely receive the emotional support that a child requires, forcing them to learn how to be emotionally self-sufficient at a young age. Power struggles and controlling behaviors are common in these relationships, and subtle manipulation is also possible, occasionally leaving an individual feeling emotionally unfulfilled. This positioning suggests emotional baggage, often buried in their memory, preventing them from being emotionally fulfilled, particularly in the area of home life. Therefore, it is necessary to get rid of this baggage to lead a happy family life.

To achieve true freedom, it is crucial to address any challenging relationships with family members. As Pluto in the 4th house individuals end up developing a tendency to become domineering and controlling during adulthood subsequent to their upbringing. This trait can manifest in a more direct manner for those with harmonious aspects. It is imperative to confront and overcome these issues to avoid causing harm to others. If left unaddressed, individuals with hard aspects may become bullies or even abusive, with this negative behavior being concealed from those outside of their inner circle due to Pluto's placement in the fourth house. Unfortunately, domestic violence can occur within their own homes. Even if they are not abusive, they may end up with a manipulative, controlling, or violent partner. The fourth house represents where power and authority are sought after in a birth chart, therefore for those with Pluto in the fourth house, power struggles may transpire within their homes. However, they possess the power to break the cycle of generational trauma and change their entire family's situation.

If Pluto is in your fourth house, it could mean that you struggle with your sense of self, often feeling disconnected from your family and ancestors. This placement may also indicate a family secret that sets you apart from them. Acceptance of oneself can be difficult for those with Pluto in this position, and seeking psychotherapy or a supportive relationship can help. Harmonious aspects can make this work easier. Additionally, this placement can manifest as an intense patriotism, radical ideals, or religiosity in later life that is followed by a lonely old age, where the native may isolate themselves or be abandoned by family members. Alternatively, natives can develop new forms of family function and support for themselves and others. Pluto in the 4th is also an indication of creating a powerful family/household.

⚝Pluto in the 5th house⚝

You might experience a strong urge to express yourself creatively and actively pursue intense experiences related to love, romance, and sexuality. This placement can also trigger obsessive and compulsive behaviors in these areas, which must be handled with caution to avoid adverse outcomes. Despite these challenges, Pluto in the 5th house can instill a sense of personal power and charm that could assist you in achieving your aspirations and desires. It's crucial to maintain a balance between self-awareness and self-control to navigate this placement successfully. Passion, love, and art might appear elusive and mysterious to you, leading you to be drawn to perilous or unattainable love affairs and harboring concealed emotions. Childhood memories may have a special significance for you, shaping your understanding of love and relationships.

Individuals with Pluto in the fifth house possess a strong personality. However, if Pluto is afflicted or there are challenging aspects between the Sun and Pluto in their natal chart, they may have a big ego. This placement signifies a passionate and creative nature but with a tendency towards melodrama and self-centeredness. Those natives find excitement in taking risks in their romantic lives and often possess a strong will and a daredevil spirit. However, a negative manifestation of this placement can result in a struggle for authority. People with this placement feel the need to receive recognition and become the center of attention. Failure to do so may lead to frustration and jealousy. As a result, they may become easily irritated if they do not receive the attention they desire. The negative side of Pluto can manifest as envy or jealousy, so if they feel ignored, they may act childishly.

They possess a strong inclination towards creative pursuits such as art, movies, music, and literature. This is due to the influence of Pluto in the fifth house which amplifies one's desire to express themselves. Individuals with this placement may have a preference for a darker artistic style, and find leisure in hobbies such as deep dives, gambling, and exploring risky arts forms. However, Pluto's obsessive nature may not be ideal for such activities and may lead to addiction and extreme losses.

Moreover, Pluto's qualities may be embodied by your father if certain aspects of the Sun and Pluto in the birth chart support this. Pluto's energy is directed towards the matters of the house in which it is located, which can be overwhelming and exhausting. It is essential to find a balance to overcome Pluto's dark traits. If successful, you can become a fascinating and charismatic individual, well-suited for creative endeavors, art, and making societal contributions despite feelings of inadequacy.

The fifth house defines your love life, indicating a passionate and intense nature described by Pluto. You give your all in love and expect the same from your partner. Individuals with Pluto in the fifth house often seek powerful and intense partners. This placement implies a lack of interest in superficial relationships. In romance, you tend to embody Pluto's qualities or choose partners who do. Negative aspects of Pluto, such as possessiveness, jealousy, obsession, and power struggles, may arise in your relationships. As a result, your relationships tend to be Scorpionic.

Pluto in the fifth house often transforms through romantic relationships, leading you to become a different person in the presence of your partner. This placement suggests an intense love life, with a strong focus on passion and sex. Pluto represents intense attachment, vulnerability, and intimacy, qualities you seek in a partner. Sexual kinks may pique your interest if Pluto is in this position. On the other hand, this placement can also imply betrayal by your lover and even traumatic experiences in extreme cases. Plutonic relationships may be part of your experience, with manipulative partners or yourself as the manipulator in the relationship.

The position of the planets and signs on the cusp of the fifth house can reveal information about your first child and your attitude toward them. If Pluto is located in the fifth house, it suggests that having a child will bring about a transformation in your life. Your beliefs may be challenged, and you may need to make changes. A child born under this placement may have a strong personality, especially if Pluto receives positive aspects. However, difficult aspects may indicate that your child could be challenging to manage, potentially leading to power struggles in your relationship. Overall, this placement indicates that you have a close relationship with your children and are protective of them. But be careful not to be too possessive or controlling, as this could lead to rebellion from your child.

⚝Pluto in the 6th house⚝

If Pluto is in your sixth house, you may have a strong attachment to your daily routines, which are essential to your well-being. If you're unable to follow your routines, you may become stressed and anxious, and sometimes even display aggressive behavior as a way to cope. Your adherence to rituals may seem morbid or obsessive-compulsive to others. You may experience a transformation and gain wisdom and power in areas governed by this house, but it may also lead to power struggles, deep fear, and even trauma. It can be a difficult area to navigate, with no easy way out. To make the most of this placement, it's essential to acknowledge the hardships and confront your inner demons.

You might have a tendency towards manipulation. Pluto is associated with vast distances and hidden worlds, while the 6th House deals with clearly defined social functions and areas of action. This creates a paradoxical and ambiguous social role for you. Your demeanor may be unsettling on a professional level, and your hidden function may be effective because it is insidious and concealed. The placement of Pluto in the 6th house is believed to bring intensity and transformation to your daily work routine and health habits. People with this placement may have a strong desire for power and control in their job and may be drawn to careers that involve working with the darker side of human nature, like psychology or forensics. However, they may also struggle with issues related to power and control in the workplace and may need to learn to channel their energy more positively and productively.

It's crucial to avoid conflicts with colleagues or being pushed around by superiors. Instead, strive to establish a healthy and secure work environment. You may find yourself drawn to Scorpionic jobs that involve other people's money, death, crime, sex, investigation, psychology, research, or healing. It's crucial for individuals with this placement to find work they are passionate about. However, Pluto in the sixth house can also bring challenges, such as rivalries with coworkers or difficult relationships with bosses. Harsh Pluto's aspects may indicate a dictatorial attitude towards others in the workplace or a controlling coworker. As an employer, you may come across as intimidating and threatening to your workers. This placement can lead to clashes and power struggles in your work life. You may be a perfectionist who dislikes wasteful practices and responds poorly to criticism. You can also be possessive and competitive about your work. Pluto in the sixth house indicates a need for freedom and space to work effectively. Some people with this placement change jobs frequently due to conflicts in the workplace, leading to hardships but also growth opportunities. A well-aspected Pluto in the sixth house can signify great power and effectiveness in your work, as well as a talent for cutting through the superficial and getting to the heart of the matter.

The sixth house also governs the area of health. When Pluto is placed in this house, it can often push individuals to work so hard that their health is the only thing that can force them to take a break. This can result in health issues caused by high job pressure. Pluto in the 6th house can indicate a tendency towards obsessive or compulsive behaviors, particularly related to diet and exercise, which can affect your physical well-being. It is important to maintain a balanced and healthy approach to health and avoid becoming too fixated on routines. Power struggles at work can be a challenge for some. However, one positive aspect of Pluto in this placement is its strong regenerative ability. While individuals may be able to function on little resources for a time, it's important to strive for a more balanced lifestyle by paying attention to diet and exercise.

This placement can also indicate mental health issues such as phobias or anxiety. When Pluto is affected by hard aspects, individuals may experience mysterious health problems, chronic illnesses, or eating disorders. In these cases, it's crucial to seek professional help to overcome health issues, as well as gain psychological insights and guidance to improve daily life.

By embracing transformative experiences, even mundane activities can become intensely engaging. Adopting a powerful daily practice, including daily cleanses and developing healthy habits, can help transform your life. However, it's important to avoid becoming deeply involved in work unions or criminal activities and to stay focused on the task at hand without becoming obsessed or overworked. By embracing a powerful and balanced daily routine, one can regenerate their health and vitality and become a positive influence among coworkers.

Finally, the sixth house also represents pets. With Pluto in the sixth house, some individuals with this placement may have unconventional pets, such as snakes or spiders, and other powerful exotic animals. Meanwhile, others may prefer to have a very well-trained pet for hunting and/or sports, such as dogs or horses.

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⚝Pluto in the 7th house⚝

If Pluto is in your 7th house, it may indicate intense and transformative experiences in your close personal relationships. This placement suggests a desire for power and control in partnerships, which can lead to problems with manipulation or possessiveness. However, it can also result in deep and meaningful connections, as well as opportunities for growth and healing through these relationships. It's important to be mindful of the potential for power struggles and to strive for balance and mutual respect in all partnerships. This placement may suggest that you are drawn to a Plutonic personality, someone who has Pluto in their first house or is a Scorpio rising. This can apply not only to romantic partners and spouses but also to business partners and close friends.

The seventh house plays a significant role in marriage and relationships. When Pluto is located in the seventh house, it suggests that committed relationships can bring about a transformational process for you. Your life changes drastically after marriage, and you learn important life lessons through your relationships. Overcoming challenges in these relationships helps you find your power. However, Pluto in this position can make your relationships intense and dynamic, with strong emotions and a need for passion.

Unfortunately, deep bonding can be blocked by fear, and power struggles may arise. You may crave intimacy but be scared of it at the same time. It is common to experience control issues in relationships with Pluto in the seventh house, which can lead to a lack of balance. To make the relationship work, you need to learn to stand up for yourself and be treated as an equal. You may be attracted to dictatorial partners or be dictatorial yourself. There's a desire and appeal for uneven power dynamics and control. The seventh house is associated with harmony and balance, and a natal Pluto in the seventh house can achieve this by undergoing transformation. It is important to be aware of the possibility of abuse or domestic violence if harsh aspects to Pluto are present.

The seventh house is related to business partnerships and public relations. If you have a natal Pluto in the seventh house, it is advisable to avoid fast-paced partnerships, especially if it receives hard aspects. However, a well-aspected Pluto in the seventh house can be useful in working with the public. This placement is beneficial for individuals working in marketing, politics, law, or psychology, as it provides insight into human nature. Nevertheless, it is essential to behave appropriately with this placement, as Pluto is an unpredictable and erratic planet. A harmonious aspect to Pluto can help you understand people intuitively and excel in many professions. However, it is crucial to remain clear-headed and skeptical about relationships, as Pluto in the seventh house can bring secrets to light and damage your reputation. It is best to view relationships as temporary and not get too attached to them. You understand the illusory nature of social codes and keep your distance from relationships, especially intimate ones.

If you have a natal Pluto in the seventh house, it may indicate a deep-seated fear of forming close bonds with others. While you may crave the intimacy and security of committed relationships, you may also be hesitant to fully invest in them due to issues with trust and betrayal. This fear may even attract untrustworthy partners, leading to a pattern of unhealthy relationships. You may have experienced trauma related to committed relationships in the past. To find balance in your relationships, it's important to establish a sense of power dynamics. With Pluto in this house, there may be a struggle for power between you and your partner. It's important to choose partners who have a well-integrated Pluto, as those who live in the lower octave of Pluto can exhibit negative traits such as possessiveness and jealousy. Your relationship may have darker themes if your Pluto is afflicted, but easy aspects can indicate a strong-willed partner. Remember that you have power within yourself, and by finding it, you can break free from being a victim. Your seventh house planets may reveal parts of yourself that you don't identify with, and Pluto here suggests that you may not feel your power or be able to handle it. This may lead to an unconscious relinquishing of power to your partners.

⚝Pluto in the 8th house⚝

Having Pluto in the eighth house is a noteworthy placement. Scorpio is the natural ruler of the eighth house, which is a familiar place for Pluto. However, having an eighth house placement doesn't necessarily mean an easy life. From a young age, you are conscious of the darker aspects of life. With Pluto here, power holds great importance in your life and is often obtained through crisis, pain, or trauma. If you embrace the positive aspects of this placement, you can become a source of support and guidance for others, showing them that there is always a way out of difficult situations. This is a highly influential placement that can lead to professions with such specialty and mystique. Think of someone that is a psychiatrist for other psychiatrists, a mortician for other morticians, or a private investigator with psychic abilities. You desire something that involves exploring the depths of the psyche and the journey of the soul's evolution. It can also lead to complete psychic and soul makeovers or even the ability to resurrect one's own or another's soul. This placement has the potential to be both a necromancer and a grim reaper, if you believe as such, but it can also awaken a renewed passion for life.

Individuals with their natal Pluto in the eighth house are known for their ability to overcome obstacles. Planets located in the eighth house tend to manifest themselves during times of crisis. This placement suggests that you possess a significant inner strength that you can rely on. The presence of Pluto in the eighth house can result in powerful transformations and intense experiences related to shared resources, intimacy, and psychological growth. It can also indicate a deep desire to explore the hidden aspects of oneself and others and to comprehend the mysteries of life and death. Additionally, it may suggest a potential for power struggles, manipulation, and obsession in relationships, as well as a tendency to attract intense and transformative experiences.

However, with awareness and conscious effort, this placement can also lead to profound healing, empowerment, and spiritual growth. It is important to approach this placement with respect, integrity, and a willingness to confront one's shadows and vulnerabilities. People with this placement are often drawn to taboo topics and the occult, such as life after death and magic. They may also have an interest in morbid things or horror movies, as they are fascinated by mysteries. However, this placement can create both a fascination with and fear of death.

Pluto in the eighth house also indicates that sexuality is an important aspect of your life, or that you have experienced painful and traumatic events related to it. If Pluto has easy aspects, individuals with this placement may have a high libido and be extremely passionate, even obsessive, about sex. With aspects from Mars or Saturn, they may be drawn to role-playing or have an obsession with violence. These individuals prefer to dominate in relationships as Pluto here is thrilled by power. Simultaneously, they may be afraid of being vulnerable and experiencing intimacy, as this placement can indicate trauma related to sexuality, betrayal, and trust issues. Rage may also be buried in the unconscious of individuals with this placement.

Individuals with Pluto in the eighth house possess a natural knack for psychology and can easily see through people's facades. Pluto has an all-seeing eye, making it impossible to keep secrets from those with this placement. However, despite their insight into others, these individuals tend to keep their secrets close to their chest and have likely learned from difficult experiences. They may struggle with intensity and obsessiveness, finding it challenging to let go and recognize when enough is enough. These tendencies can lead to complicated and tumultuous romantic relationships with emotional and psychological manipulation. Pluto in the eighth house can also indicate a willingness to use any means necessary to achieve their desires, especially when challenged or frustrated. Those with this placement may excel in finance-related careers, such as banking, financial advising, accounting, and investing. However, caution should be taken with Jupiter-Pluto aspects as this placement may also indicate involvement with criminal activity or the darker sides of Pluto's influence. Individuals with hard aspects to Pluto may encounter complications with inheritance or experience power struggles related to money within their family dynamic.

The eighth house is a crucial space in your life, though it may not be visited often. It is here where significant events occur, triggering a profound transformation process within you. If your natal Pluto resides in this house, you may experience more of these moments than the average person. This can make you a skilled sailor, as the saying goes, for a smooth sea never made one. You may find relationships unsatisfying unless they push you to the brink of psychological or emotional death. It's possible for you to feed off other people's trauma to recharge your batteries and demand peak experiences in intimate relationships. However, this can also make you a demanding or controlling partner, someone who wants to know all your secrets and personal information. Probe-like behavior can make others uncomfortable, and you may overestimate your psychological understanding while underestimating your psychological complexes. Remember that just because you have access to someone's secrets doesn't mean you understand them completely.

Individuals with this placement possess exceptional resilience, capable of enduring even the harshest of events. Pluto's influence here grants above-average regenerative abilities, allowing for survival in dangerous situations. However, one's interest in darker subjects may attract potential danger. A well-aspected Pluto, particularly in conjunction with Saturn, may indicate longevity. This placement may also bring about psychological challenges, requiring a purging of negative thoughts and attachments to break free from the karmic wheel. Though such transformations can be painful, they ultimately lead to great personal power. It is important to avoid becoming overly convinced of one's own opinions and adopting a dictatorial approach with a natal Pluto in the eighth house.

⚝Pluto in the 9th house⚝

Pluto in the ninth house indicates that you possess higher intelligence than most people. You have a natural curiosity about how the world operates, and you want to delve deeply into its workings. Your mind is deep and inquisitive due to this placement. This placement of Pluto suggests that you will undergo a profound transformation in your belief system and philosophical outlook. You may develop a keen interest in spiritual and metaphysical matters, as well as a desire to explore various cultures and ways of thinking. This sometimes results in a challenging and intense journey of self-discovery, but ultimately, it leads to a deeper understanding of yourself and the world. It is crucial to remain open-minded and receptive to new ideas and experiences if you have this placement, as it can lead to significant personal growth and transformation.

Individuals with Pluto in the ninth house have a keen ability to detect inconsistencies within the belief systems of those around them. This placement can transform travelers into spies and wise individuals into skeptical philosophers. You likely have little interest in rigid moral codes and commonly accepted explanations. Instead, you relish challenging traditional ideals and prefer to develop your concepts, even if they may not always be clear. Your analytical approach to exploration, travel, and discovery is often detached and critical, bordering on indifference. Superficial explanations are not enough for you, as Pluto urges you to delve deeper into the core of a matter. With this placement, you possess a powerful mind and frequently question beliefs instilled in you during childhood. Your belief system and perception of the world undergo deep transformation multiple times throughout your life. You possess a probing mind and can see beyond surface-level information, making you drawn to foreign religions and philosophies. There are often several soul-searching phases in your life that ultimately lead to profound transformation. While this placement primarily relates to mental transformation, some individuals may struggle with embracing change. Failure to recognize when you are wrong can hinder personal growth, but the ninth house's emphasis on expansion encourages growth. Being a mutable sign, Sagittarius, the natural sign of the ninth house, embraces change. Pluto, however, can be tyrannical and dictatorial, making it challenging to accept new ideas with hard aspects. You value honesty and directness in expressions and interactions with others but may struggle with feeling misunderstood. Those with Pluto in the ninth house may be captivated by foreign languages and cultures and often feel a sense of not belonging to their place of birth. A well-aspected Pluto in this placement can find power through contact with other cultures, while some may even spend a significant amount of time abroad.

With Pluto located in the ninth house of a person's natal chart, their personal philosophy holds great significance. This placement indicates a lifelong learner who is eager to educate themselves without necessarily relying on traditional institutions. As a result, subjects like religion and psychology may pique their interest, and they may possess a natural talent for research and investigation. However, a potential danger of this placement is the tendency to impose their beliefs onto others, which may lead to fanatical or bigoted behavior. It is crucial to avoid becoming dictatorial if they gain power in their communities. On the positive side, individuals with this placement may make inspiring teachers and have the courage to challenge outdated beliefs. Nonetheless, they may encounter difficulties with higher education, and some may drop out of college or experience study breaks. Furthermore, this placement can manifest as authority issues, but it can also support a career in education or research.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

⚝Pluto in the 10th house⚝

When Pluto is in your tenth house, you'll develop a reputation as a powerful and influential individual in the world. You may find yourself engaged in power struggles, particularly in your professional life and interactions with authority figures. This is because the tenth house is associated with career and public image. Your ambition and drive to succeed are noteworthy, and you are willing to do whatever it takes to achieve your goals. However, you may feel like success is more difficult to attain than it is for others, particularly if your natal Pluto in the tenth house is harshly aspected.

Having Pluto in the 10th house can lead to significant transformations and power struggles in your career and public image. It may compel you to confront and overcome deep-seated fears or power dynamics in your workplace. While it can also inspire a strong desire for success and recognition, it is important to be aware of any negative aspects of your ambition. With Pluto in the 10th house, it may be necessary to let go of old habits and embrace a new path that aligns with your true purpose and values. Overall, this placement can be both challenging and empowering, providing opportunities for growth and personal development in your professional and public life.

Pluto is a challenging planet in astrology, often bringing about difficult and even traumatic experiences in the areas it affects. With Pluto in the 10th House, you are skilled at navigating crises and complicated environments. Your progress in professional and social settings is subtle and unique, as you excel at operating behind the scenes and detecting weaknesses and false values. You are driven by your self-interests and have a scheming mind, making you a formidable partner in any venture.

When considering career paths in your natal chart, there are many factors to take into account. However, with Pluto in the tenth house, it is one of the significant influencers. Possible career paths include psychology, investigation, research, surgery, politics, or other fields that involve hidden information. If there are other indicators in the chart, it may even indicate involvement with criminal activities. As you do your inner work and resolve your issues, you may find yourself drawn to a career in the medical field, as Pluto supports regeneration. This placement also lends itself well to careers that require extensive research or attention to detail, making you a great investigator.

While Pluto can bring about unforeseen ups and downs in your career path, it also gives you the ability to bounce back and even reach greater heights. However, success with this placement takes time and patience, as the tenth house is naturally associated with Capricorn and Saturn, the ruler of time in astrology. As you mature, you learn to accept that permanent success takes time and to trust in the process.

People with this placement are often ambitious and have a strong desire to achieve their goals. However, it is essential to develop a healthier and more respectful relationship with time and to avoid using force and power to get what you want. Through the struggle to recreate yourself, you will find your power and ultimately achieve success.

The placement of Pluto in the tenth house of your natal chart may indicate some conflict in your relationship with authority figures. If you feel that you have been treated unfairly, you are not afraid to stand up for yourself. This placement could also suggest that you may become an authoritative figure later in life.

The tenth house is also associated with the parental figures in your life. While traditionally, the father is associated with Saturn and the tenth house, any paternal figure, role model, mentor, or caregiver can be included. Pluto in the tenth house could indicate that the parent represented by this house was authoritarian, domineering, or even dictatorial (especially with hard aspects to Pluto). You may have felt intimidated or afraid of this parent, and they may have had a position of authority that was respected or even feared by others. If there are harmonious aspects to your Pluto in the tenth house, this parent may have had a strong personality, was determined, and had a strong will. They may have been an important influence in your life, teaching you strength and how to cope with challenges. Alternatively, if there are hard aspects to your Pluto in the tenth house, you may be at risk of becoming tyrannical, arrogant, selfish, or overly controlling with your power.

In addition to learning to cope with authority figures, this placement also suggests that you need to learn how to use your power in a healthy way. If you use your power for good, you may become a very powerful figure in your community. However, it is important to remember that with great power comes great responsibility. It is important to avoid becoming too domineering or controlling and to use your power constructively and positively. People may see you as mysterious and reserved, but also as someone who always has a trick up their sleeve.

⚝Pluto in the 11th house⚝

If Pluto is in your eleventh house, it's in the area of friends and organizations. This planet's mysterious and dark side can make it tough for you to fit in and compromise, but you can learn a lot from your interactions with groups of people. Pluto's placement in the 11th house can have a significant impact on your social life and relationships with friends and acquaintances. You may feel a strong urge to join groups or organizations dedicated to social change or transformation. Your desire for power and transformation can drive your relationships, and you may be drawn to those who can help you achieve your goals or further your agenda. However, it's important to avoid letting your desire for power and control take over your relationships with others. Keep a sense of balance and perspective in your social life and relationships, and be mindful of how your actions can affect others.

The eleventh house is closely associated with social groups, clubs, and organizations. However, it encompasses more than just your relationship with society. It also represents the universe's support for you and everything that comes into your life. Individuals with Pluto in the eleventh house may struggle to identify their goals clearly, even though they are ambitious and seek great achievements. Nonetheless, Pluto in the eleventh house suggests immense power to transform your dreams into reality. This planet is intense and influential, capable of magnifying things. When used effectively, it can be an excellent asset for fulfilling your hopes and dreams. People with this placement are future-oriented, often to the point of neglecting the present. Pluto in the eleventh house can lead to a preoccupation with ideas and difficulties in executing them in the present. Once conquered, however, this tendency can make you unstoppable. If Pluto is well-aspected in the eleventh house and in harmony with Jupiter, it can indicate potential wealth acquisition. The eleventh house is also associated with money, specifically money earned through your profession and cash flow in your life. Pluto can contribute to financial success with harmonious aspects, but hard aspects may suggest a willingness to do anything to achieve one's goals, even if it involves immoral means. It can also lead to difficulties in managing money.

Based on the placement of Pluto in your eleventh house, it appears that your interest lies in the study of people and their social behavior. You are fascinated by group dynamics and social phenomena, and you strive to comprehend how people function. This helps you understand yourself better as well. You are drawn to criminal groups, cartels, secret societies, large-scale covert operations, and other similar organizations. However, you are also aware of the negative impact these groups have on society. You have an intense desire to control your social relationships and are known to struggle with building and maintaining friendships. You can be highly intense and may have experienced betrayal or a traumatic event related to your friends in the past. As a result, you tend to be guarded and find it difficult to trust others. You prefer to be alone than in bad company and prioritize maintaining power and control in your social circles. If someone has hard aspects to Pluto in their natal chart, they may exhibit dictatorial or domineering behavior when in a group setting. This can create tension, and it's important to strive for balance. It's necessary to adjust your beliefs and attitude towards groups of people. Although you have a strong desire to belong, achieving this can be a long journey. With Pluto in the eleventh house, you crave acceptance but often feel lonely even when surrounded by others. It can be challenging to fit in and find your place. Despite feeling like a loner, it's important to learn how to connect with others and build a network. Unfortunately, some people with this placement may experience traumatic events, such as abuse or betrayal, that force them to reexamine their beliefs about people and society. Through these experiences, however, they can gain wisdom and learn how to heal themselves.

Having Pluto in the eleventh house can bring loyal and supportive friends who have strong personalities like you. You can discuss topics that others may find morbid, such as the occult or life after death. Friendships with Pluto in the 11th House are dynamic and evolve over time. Your conception of the world and ideals are not absolute but rather emphasize the futility of principles and ideas. Your most significant relationships always maintain a degree of mystery, and you distrust universally accepted truths. Your network helps you achieve your goals and learn about various aspects of life. You may find your power through understanding group dynamics, and can even take on an important role in an organization with this placement. Harmonious aspects of Pluto in the eleventh house suggest powerful and supportive friends who can help you turn your dreams into reality. However, with hard aspects to Pluto, it is important to be careful about who you associate with, as envious friends who do not have your best interests at heart may try to manipulate you or bring trouble upon you. Additionally, it is important to respect others' opinions and not think that you know everything best. Pluto in the eleventh house may also draw you to social causes or humanitarian work, and can even make you a powerful and revolutionary leader with well-aspected Pluto in this placement. However, some people with a natal Pluto in the eleventh house may also become members of secret groups or have secret friendships, and there may be indicators in the natal chart for social anxiety.

⚝Pluto in the 12th house⚝

If Pluto is located in the 12th house of your birth chart, it could indicate a strong connection to your subconscious mind. This placement suggests that you may have a desire to explore the deeper aspects of your psyche and inner world. You may also have a fascination with spirituality, mysticism, and the occult, as well as a yearning to understand the workings of the universe on a profound level. At times, you may feel like you are struggling with powerful forces that are beyond your control, which can lead to intense dreams or nightmares. However, with Pluto in the 12th house, you have the potential to harness these energies and use them for personal transformation and growth. It is important to note that this placement can also indicate a tendency towards self-destructive behaviors or escapism as a way of avoiding intense emotions and psychic energies. By confronting these challenges head-on and integrating them into your conscious awareness, you can unlock a powerful source of personal power and transformation. With Pluto in the 12th house, you may have a strong connection with mysticism, ordeals, and the afterlife, and possess exceptional sensitivity. When expressed negatively, this configuration may lead to an interest in macabre subjects and paradoxical sexuality, as well as a tendency to perceive ghostly enemies. However, when expressed positively, it encourages you to attribute a transcendental value to your actions, thoughts, and life.

Pluto in the twelfth house suggests that you are restricted from finding your power. Tapping into your power is not impossible, but it requires a lot of work and developing self-awareness. This placement often indicates anxiety and detachment from your deep desires. This placement suggests that you find it hard to identify with things represented by Pluto, such as power, sex, and violence. Planets in the twelfth house are not integrated into your personality. You possess all the power Pluto gives us, but it is locked up in the twelfth house, hidden from you. You are blocked from accessing it. In other cases, you unconsciously try to sweep this planet under the carpet. Pluto in the twelfth house can indicate that you were told not to be powerful as a child. Perhaps power was said to be immoral or bad, and you learned that it is unsafe and unethical to want it. The same is true for sexuality. People with this placement have a strong sexuality, but they often feel ashamed of it and they are aware of their desires only on an unconscious level. This placement can indicate problems with your sexuality. Pluto in the twelfth house is often a sign of unhealthy power dynamics in your childhood. Perhaps one of your parents was dictatorial and domineering, while the other parent could not express their power and took up the role of the martyr. This placement can indicate abuse in childhood. This can be emotional, physical abuse, or sexual. This experience can be suppressed in the subconscious, but it is often the root of self-destructive behavior.

If you have a natal Pluto in the twelfth house, you may have a fear of losing control. Control is very important to you, and although the planets in the twelfth house are repressed, they have not disappeared. You may unconsciously fear that Pluto will be set free. This placement suggests that you may experience power struggles in your mind. You may be hard on yourself and tend to beat yourself up. You may also use shadowy, manipulative tactics to gain power, such as playing the martyr or emotionally manipulating others. You may not even be aware of these mind games, but others may feel them. If there are hard aspects and other indicators in your chart, Pluto in the twelfth house can indicate crime or prostitution. People with this placement often struggle with low self-esteem and may feel helpless or lack self-confidence. A strong Sun in your natal chart or harmonious aspects from Mars can help counteract this. A well-aspected and well-placed Pluto can give you a lot of strength, but when it is located in the twelfth house, it is hidden from you. If Pluto is close to the ascendant, it may indicate a traumatic birth or near-death experience. Hard aspects of Pluto in the twelfth house can also indicate trouble with sleep or nightmares. Pluto in this placement may explain suffering through startling and dark dreams.

You may tend to be reserved due to your placement in the twelfth house. While this can be a natural inclination, it's important to be mindful of not suppressing your emotions. Finding ways to de-stress through physical activity can be a helpful outlet for any tension or pent-up emotions you may be experiencing.

It's worth noting that a strong emphasis on this house in your birth chart may make you particularly sensitive, both emotionally and physically. Additionally, if Pluto is also in the twelfth house, there is a potential for psychosomatic illnesses. This placement can also cause feelings of anxiety, not belonging, or unworthiness. In some cases, individuals may even use illness as a way to avoid coping with reality.

To address any potential challenges related to this placement, it's crucial to find balance and address any unconscious guilt that may be present. Pluto in the twelfth house can lead to self-punishment or attraction to toxic partners, so it's important to learn to let go and spend time alone. Meditation and spiritual practices can be helpful in this regard, as well as developing a talent for psychology and a natural insight into human nature. By focusing on these areas, you can help ensure that you can navigate any challenges that may arise in a healthy, productive way.

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝

Bye Cunts <3

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thekissofaphrodite · 9 months

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I Grew this for you, Ives.

Luke Castellan X Daughter of Demeter! Reader

Summary: Your secret meetup with your boyfriend, Luke, might have been interrupted by Percy Jackson.

Warnings: MakeUp...MAKEOUT- I MEAN. Language (Tell me if i missed one!)

Author's note: It might be kinda weird that the title doesn't match the summary but trust me, it's worth reading. + If you saw a fic from another blog the same as this i requested it and decided i wanna make the fic myself.

___

New kid, New responsibility. You were known as being motherly towards every kid that stepped in Camp Half Blood. And Maybe, Just maybe, Percy Jackson considered you as his Camp Mom, It wasn't new for older campers seeing a new 12 year old boy follow you around and look up at you with big puppy eyes along with Grover's confused look, but oh well.

Ever since your Godly Mother, Demeter has claimed you, Luke has called you Ives since then. It all happened when three years ago, you ended up in Camp Half blood after your mortal father has been killed by a chimera, much to his sacrifice, You might have offered some small offerings to your Brother In Law, Hades, to watch him in the underworld. Your first week into camp half-blood, Chiron had announced that Capture the Flag will be the first game for the day, you were teamed up with the reds (Much to your disappointment) you were near the cabin fire when two boys from the blue team had cornered you (One of them was luke) you raised you hands to cover yourself but then, Two ivy vines sprouted out the soil and blocked them, horror washed over you when one of the vines that you 'accidentally' summoned strangled one of the boys, Luke was able to escape and still..Blue team one.

While they were celebrating, The red team started ranting angrily about how you made them lose, You sat in a corner, your head leaned against an oak tree as you sobbed, then, a bright greenish-yellow light appeared with gold sickle with a few sheaths of wheat above your head, No one was there, not until a group of campers saw you, they ran and moments later, almost dozens of campers were in front of you, including chiron.

"All Hail Y/n Y/L/N, Daughter of Demeter"

Bunch of flowers started sprouting near you, The forest and plants looked much more healthier in your eyes as every one knelt down, Including Luke, Who gave you a mischievous wink.

"....And this is the mess hall, You're always designated to sit with your cabin mates but that depends, most unclaimed kids just sit with their friends" You said, Glancing at Percy, The young boy just nodded shyly and coughed,trying to hide his blushing cheeks.

"Looks like someone has a crush on you" Luke appeared behind you with a grin, Percy's eyes immediately went wide, making you chuckle.

"Crushes don't hurt, it's admiration afterall" You whispered before giving percy a light kiss on his cheeks, leaving luke shocked.

One of you halfsiblings, Althea, called you over. Apparently, another one of your half sibling's EX boyfriend from the Dionysus cabin used a lard grapevine to ruin the bathroom door inside the cabin while you sibling is showering out of rage and jealousy.

Now, As head of your cabin, It's either you spent one whole hour being lectured by Mr. D out of his favoritism or...Plead with one of the Hephaestus kids to fix it for you.

What a day.

Giving Luke and Percy one last smile, You left.

"C'mon Felix! This is the only time that i've asked for a favour out of all the favours i've done for you, You'd do it for me" You pleaded as you followed him back and forth inside his cabin's workshop.

"Look, Y/n, I love you as my friend, but i can't do it, not right now"

"What if i give you a 25$ gift card from burger king and......" You scouried your pocket hoping to find something, Your eyes lit up as you felt a bill in your palms "50 dollars...and...." You then went to pat your bra and pulled out a coin. "A Peso"

You then placed it in his soily hands, Felix's face remained calm, he then took the money.

"It's warm..." He said kinda horrified...You pulled the peso out of your bra for the gods sake!

"Take it or leave it."

He then rolled his eyes and grabbed his toolbox.

"Lead the way"

You squealed and hugged him before pulling him to your cabin.

As you watched him repair the door in silence, Felix broke the silencce by purposely dropping a hammer to the ground, the loud clattering sound made you flinch a little, he smirked "Thinking about Luke?"

You snorted, as if tho you weren't actually thinking about him, "No, i'm thinking about Percy"

"The new kid who broke Clarisse's spear? he's badass"

"mhm, Son of Poseidon"

"Speaking of, How's Luke?"

There was a moment of silence before you replied.

"Fine"

"Just 'fine' ? No ungodly things happening?"

"No" You could've bursted out laughing.

"I don't believe you, C'mon tell me some elaborate details"

You raised your brow, a mischievous glint appearing in your eyes.

"Actually, if you finished that, i'll tell you"

The Hephaestus boy huffed and went back to work

After an hour, Felix finished repairing the door and bid you a goodbye (Along with a side-eye)

It was now 11 pm, the Campfire sing-along ended almost an hour ago, and you were in your cabin, re-arranging your stuffed toys for the 5th time, (Making one plushie lay beside you will cause chaos among the plushies)

"Carrie..You go here and..Princess should be right....here, Done!"

All of your plushies were in order when you heard a knock from the window near your bunkbed. then, you saw luke, still in his usual camp shirt, unlike you who was in your rather inappropriate pajamas.

His eyes first landed on you, he then grinned before groaning and landing on your soft bunk bed.

"Hey ives-"

"Luke, what're you doing here?!" You hissed, afraid that your half siblings might caught you two.

"Can i not see you?"

"You can, but not at this time" You huffed, But he was still grinning before pulling a flower pot, with a rose.

"I grew this for you, Ives" He whispered, His eyes carefully scanning you expression before you chuckled.

"You know i can grow this in seconds?"

"Mhm, But still, I love you 'till the very last rose in this entire world wilt into ash"

A smile graced upon your lips before luke grabbed your cheeks and kissed you, the flowerpot fell into your bed, the soil staining your new bedsheet, You couldn't care less.

You deepened the kiss by pulling Luke by his neck, and a groan escaped his lips, his calloused hands then slowly went up your shorts making you moan a little, His hands became closer and closer and closer until-

"Luke?"

You two pulled away, Luke's hands were still in your inner thighs, he took a peak into your window and saw Percy, in his cute pajamas with messy blonde hair.

"Percy" Luke breathed.

"What's up?"

"The Apollo cabin seemed to be having a party, the noise is too loud and i can't sleep, i was wondering if you could go see it "

You then peaked into your window, your cheeks were pressed against luke's

"Y/n? Wait..what are you guys doing? and...why are you in her window?" Percy asked, his drowsiness seemed to have vanished.

Luke couldn't even answer percy himself, he started chuckling softly before burying his face into your neck and smothered it with kisses.

Percy then stood still before realizing, he cleared his throat, but before he could leave you called him.

"You know what? I think Luke could actually take a look at those Sun Brats" Luke immediately groaned and looked at you.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Go help the poor boy"

"Yes Ma'am"

He then got up and just as he was about to climb down your bunk bed you stopped him.

"Nah uh, You can leave where you entered"

The dark haired boy chuckled, and and started climbing down the window, before he could jump back to the ground you kissed him one last time, But this time, the kiss was much more passionate. You could've sworn percy made a gagging face before turning around.

"I love you Ives"

" 'Till the very last rose in this entire world wilt into ash" You said, Luke's eyes soften.

You watched as he and Percy went to the Apollo cabin to resolve the chaos.

The flower potted rose sat in your bed, You took it, and glanced at the beautiful red beauty, You sniffed the fragrance before placing it near your window as you felt Hypnos' warm palm caressing you to sleep.

The next day, The first thing you did was bang into Felix's cabin, Giving him every detail from last night as Luke, along with percy watched you from afar.

A/N:

Hey Guys! I've been gone for too long and i just watched the new PJO series and i have to be honest, I fell in love with Charlie as Luke so here's a little treat for you guys while i finish my other fics, i do hope you guys like it!

#percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #percy jackson #Disney series #luke castellan

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angelicpoison12 · 2 months

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insatiable 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔

you interrupt Alastor in the middle of a radio broadcast. he decides to punish your needy little hole <3

word count: 1.12K

tags: desk sex, sneaky blowjob, punish fuck, afab!reader, fem!reader, breeding kink, mentions of Alastor's knot, rough sex, p in v, mild overstimulation, crying (in a sexy way)

NSFW, 18+

it was innocent, nothing more. but according to Alastor, it was anything but.

he was setting up for a radio broadcast, humming along to some random tune, sitting down at his desk. you came bounding in, excitedly shouting, “Al! Al!” he looked up at you, that smile still on his face. but it was different when he was looking at you. it was clear he adored you to pieces, and that he wanted nothing more than to protect you from the cruel light of the underworld.

you were his little lamb. his prey. the mouse in his paws. others were a little worried, going as far as to send prayers your way, when it got out that you were dating Alastor. but if anything, it all turned out fine. Alastor was calmer with you around, and he even found himself letting Angel get away with friskier comments somehow. you were good for him, and everyone knew it.

today, you were the one feeling frisky.

“Alllllll? you can’t ignore me for forever,” you cooed, leaning over his desk. Alastor sighed and kissed your cheek. “i’d love to snuggle, darling, but i’ve got a radio broadcast to do. everyone is expecting me.” he told you. you huffed and crossed your arms, then a lightbulb went off in your mind. quietly, you asked, “well... can i sit in your lap?” a soft, yet questionable look came over Alastor. he looked at you. when he saw those big puppy dog eyes, he just had to give in.

“fine, fine.. come here, my darling.”

you nearly squealed in happiness. you climbed up into Alastor’s lap, having to squirm a little to get comfortable, but you were snug as a bug in a rug in his arms. “don’t.. don't move too much, my dear.” Alastor grunted politely, his claws gently digging into your thighs. you bit your lip, half purring, “why should i, babe? i was just getting comfy,” you said, pouting at him playfully. Alastor had been dating you long enough to know your tricks. he whined lowly in his throat, his ears going flat against his head.

you leaned your head back against his chest, listening to Alastor turn the knob of his radio, hearing him talk. you were still pouty at the fact he wasn’t giving you any attention. you got a little bit of a taboo idea. you knew Alastor was going to want to have his way with you if you managed to pull it off, but fuck it, what did you have to lose?

you slipped out of Alastor’s lap, going under his desk. he shot you a look but shrugged it off, thinking you were just being a little funny. his movements halted entirely when he felt your hands on the buckle of his belt. he choked but remained professional for his listeners. he actually scooted closer, closing the gap between his midsection and the desk, giving you more room to work. one of his hands came down as well, his claws scratching against your scalp affectionately in a sense of praise.

you hummed when you got his cock out. he was already half hard, the tip a soft red, the base already a little swollen with the knot. you smirked, starting to lap at the tip with your velvety tongue. the sensation was enough to make Alastor buck involuntarily, accidentally shoving his entire cock into your mouth in one go.

“hnn.. stay quiet, my dear, please-” Alastor nearly hissed, his nails digging into the back of your scalp, making you stay down. your eyes squeezed shut, and you had to force your throat to relax, taking deep breaths through your nose. you began timidly moving your head up and down. you were thankful for Alastor being able to keep quiet, because if you were in this situation, you wouldn’t even last a second.

your lips suckled around his tip, your tongue caressing his shaft and the underside of his swelling knot. you choked a little when Alastor’s hips bucked under the desk, nearly making your teeth hit his knot. you heard the radio dial turn abruptly, signaling he was done with the broadcast. you had been so caught up in the mess of it all that time seemed to fly past.

Alastor growled in a primal manner, pulling you up and kissing you, his tongue sliding down your throat. you choked at the feeling, the tip of his tongue cascading around your teeth, claiming you as his own from the inside and out. Alastor whirled you around, pinning you down on his desk, your cheek smooshed into some papers. you’d kill him if any ink stains got on your face.

you quivered when his hands nearly tore your clothes off, leaving you exposed to his hungry gaze. he slid in unexpectedly, making you nearly howl in relief. your body had been aching for him for ages it seemed. you looked back at Alastor, watching as he set a relentless, animalistic pace. his pelvis smacked against your ass, and the sound alone was enough to make obscene noises leave your lips. “Al.. Al, slow down, please, fuck, it's too much-!” you cried, tears brimming your eyes. Alastor almost cooed at the sight, his cock twitching inside of you at the sight. “now, now my dear, you begged for this. you could not keep your grubby little mouth off of my cock, even when I told you to. so, now you are going to take my cock like a good girl. understood?”

all you could do was pathetically whine, allowing Alastor to have his way with you. a small sick, twisted part of you was secretly enjoying this more than you should’ve. you wanted to feel Alastor knot you. you wanted him to fill you up, make you beg for more, and carry his young. you wanted to be his personal breeding ground.

caught in the storm, you felt yourself spasming, Alastor’s fingers on his clit, his cockhead massaging your spongey g-spot. you sobbed weakly, orgasming. but he didn’t stop. he kept thrusting, his claws digging into your hips, nearly drawing blood. “Al.. ‘s too much,” you blubbered, cheeks red and lips swollen. Your cunt was puffy, overstimulated. yet you couldn’t stop sucking him back in, wanting more. your body, your mind-it all wanted more.

“ah, ah, ah. I’m far from done with you, my little lamb. Just stay still and let me use you to my content, hm?” you dumbly nodded back at Alastor. he grinned and chuckled evilly. his shadow came out, holding you up so that your back was against his chest. before continuing his pace, he whispered in your ear, “that’s a good, insatiable, little lamb.”

- ₊ ⊹♡🐏 -

my sweet little snowflake buddies! @6esiree, @frxstwalker

#hazbin hotel #masterlist #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x reader smut #alastor x reader fanfic #alastor x you #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor smut #alastor x f!reader #alastor fanfiction

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marcyvampire · 22 hours

Text

SILLY LITTLE BAT

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Platonic! Batfamily x Anti-Hero! Fem!reader.

sinopsis ⸺ In the shadowed halls of Wayne Manor, a girl lost among the darkness seeks the connection she never had. Her mother, a kleptomaniac with a broken heart, vanished, leaving only echoes of empty promises. Surrounded by a family that never sees her, her pain turns into a deafening silence. The void left by her past traps her in a limbo of solitude and sorrow.

One dark night, seeking her own way, she became what she once despised. Now, like the albino bat rejected by its own flock, she flies alone in the twilight. Her pale skin glows in the dark, but her heart still yearns for the warmth of a home she never came to know.

warnings ⸺ Dark Themes, Dead, murdering,Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Discrimination, Violence, Blood, LGBT Content, Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Implicit Sexual Content, Mental Illness, Addiction, Suicide, Torture, Corruption, Isolation, Trauma, Phobias, Paranoia, Manipulation

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is—so there might be some grammar or spelling mistakes here and there. This is the first part of a story I’m writing for a friend (Isabel, I love you, you brat), and also an experiment to see what it’s like to write on Tumblr. Please support me! :"((

Nobody is coming to save you

Get up.

Your mother was not a good woman, and that was an undeniable fact, heavy as the shadow that covers Gotham City at nightfall. She was a creature of the underworld, one among the specters that wandered under the yoke of crime, walking among dangerous names like Selina Kyle or Harleen Quinzel, yet always remaining in the background, never reaching their fame or infamy.

She was nothing more than a kleptomaniac and a mythomaniac, doomed to live by cunning and deceit. She took advantage of the men who crossed her path, from the lowest criminals, like The Penguin, to the most powerful man in the city: Bruce Wayne.

You never called him Dad. To you, he was always Bruce, and on the rare occasions you addressed him, you did so with distant formality, "Mr. Wayne." Richard, your adoptive brother, found in him a father figure, while to you, he was just another shadow in the mansion, that huge, cold house you arrived at after your mother’s death.

You remember how, time and again, you tried to warn your mother to stop stealing, to stop lying, that those dark paths would inevitably lead her to Arkham Asylum, surrounded by all the lunatics you feared so much, or even worse: to death. But she always responded with a playful smile, stroking your head with her delicate hands, adorned with stolen jewelry and crude tattoos. "Those are just fantasies of an eight-year-old girl," she would say sweetly, while her ring-laden fingers assured you that you needn’t worry, "I will always come back for you," she promised, "because you are the only thing more valuable than any diamond I’ve ever held."

But the cruel truth was that was the last time you saw her. That night she left, and she never returned. It was then that the last vestiges of innocence faded with her absence. From that moment on, you ceased to be a child.

And that was one of the few things you understood with absolute clarity. There were no more empty promises, no more caresses tinged with lies. All that remained was the silence of a life fading away, like a stolen jewel that never returns to its rightful owner.

The only thing you knew after calling the police when your mother didn’t show up after two days was that they found her corpse in a back alley far from Gotham, showing signs of having been beaten and bruised by some underground gang.

Commissioner Gordon searched the entire house for illicit substances and signs of debts to mobsters, but he only ended up finding documents, stolen jewelry, and letters from your mother that were never sent, and most importantly, DNA evidence implicating that the city’s millionaire was your biological father.

From then on, your life was stained with eternal gray, that muted shade that erased all traces of light or shadow. There was no more white or black, only a silent fog that, day by day, enveloped you and dragged you into a madness that seemed inevitable. Gotham itself seemed more alive than the place you called home, although "home" was never the right word.

You didn’t love any of the Wayne family members. Bruce, your biological father, never listened to you. To him, you were always just another shadow, a ghost in the vast mansion that he prioritized over his other children, his "true" heirs. There was always something more important, something more urgent, and your presence faded among the cold walls and the echo of his hurried footsteps. With each passing day, you became more invisible to him, as if your very existence were a mistake he preferred to ignore.

Richard, the perfect brother, was kind on some occasions. He spoke to you courteously, but when you needed him, when you asked him to attend one of your performances, there was always an excuse, something that kept him away, as if your passion and accomplishments were insignificant details in his heroic life.

Jason, on the other hand, despised you from the start. He saw you as an intruder, a child of gold—but not of that pure and valuable gold, but of a dirty and false one, which he always mocked with disdain. And although you never cared for him, when he died, silent tears rolled down your face. It wasn’t out of love, but out of respect for what he represented, for the brutal reality of his fall.

Tim, in contrast, was the most indifferent. To him, you were a nobody, so irrelevant that you weren’t even worth a glance. Spending time with his friends or being the Robin of the moment mattered more than you did. You lived on his periphery, in a limbo where neither your name nor your face seemed to exist.

Cassandra, Stephanie, Barbara… at least they treated you with politeness, but you knew they didn’t really remember who you were. They saw you, smiled at you out of obligation, but deep down you knew they had no idea of your name, your story, your struggle to be more than a shadow in that world.

The worst of all was Damian, your younger half-brother. When he arrived at the mansion, Alfred introduced him to you with that serene formality he always had, and you, driven by an almost desperate impulse, tried to reach out to him. You wanted to offer him the support and affection of an older sister, that warmth you would have longed for in his situation. But all you received in return was a cold response: a katana piercing your abdomen. I wish I could say it was just a metaphor, but no, that wound was as real as the blade that cut your skin.

You would have liked to think that the pain was symbolic, that Damian had only rejected your affection with harsh words or his usual arrogance. But no, it was much more than that. The only thing you received in exchange for your attempt at fraternal love was a stab, a scar you still carry not only on your body but also in your soul. Because in that brutal gesture, you understood that the blood that united you also separated you, sharper than any weapon. And that was how you tried to connect.

You strived to stand out, to learn, to shine in your own ambitions, wishing that your success would be enough to earn you a place, a bit of affection. But no matter how hard you tried, it was never enough. Your talent crashed against indifference, your achievements faded into the air, as if they had no weight in the lives of others.

The only light, the only beacon in that storm of gray, was Alfred. The only one who smiled at you with genuine tenderness, the only one you truly loved. To you, he was the real father, the one who was always there, expecting nothing in return, offering you a silent but firm love. You did call him father, and his presence was the only thing that kept your sanity, the only thing preventing the gray from consuming you completely.

But even that love, so genuine and deep, was not enough to fill the void that your own family left you. And in that void, you continue to float, trapped between the girl you were and the woman you are trying to be, searching for a place you can truly call home.

Y/n's small room, though modest, had always been her refuge. The walls were adorned with unfinished sketches, trophies from various activities, and some paintings she had completed with dedication, showcasing her passion for both manual and performing arts.

The dawn light filtered softly through the curtains, bathing the space in golden tones, giving it a warmth that contrasted with the coldness of the rest of Wayne Manor.

On the desk, a small cake rested on a plate, simple yet made with love. Beside it, Alfred, with his usual understated elegance, watched Y/n with a mixture of nostalgia and concern. He, the only one who seemed to remember her birthday, offered her a delicate professional drawing set, wrapped in smooth, elegant paper.

"Happy birthday, Miss," Alfred said with a gentle smile, although his eyes reflected a sadness that was hard to conceal. "I know how much you love art, so I thought this would be helpful for your new projects."

Y/n took the gift in her hands with a genuine smile. It had been so hard for her to find moments of joy lately, but Alfred's gesture filled her with a warmth in her chest that she hadn't experienced in a long time. She placed the gift into one of the many brown boxes she had prepared for her upcoming move.

"Thank you, Alfred. It's perfect," she said, examining the set carefully, as if each detail were a reminder of the affection he held for her. "It will help me a lot... although, well," she sighed, as if searching for the right words. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that." Alfred raised an eyebrow, attentive, as she continued, glancing at the small space that had been her home within the vast mansion.

"Today... today is not just my birthday. It's the day I leave here." Her voice was firm, yet there was a sense of liberation in it, as if this were a long-awaited step. "I am finally no longer a Wayne. I go back to being a L/n."

Silence filled the room for a moment, heavy and dense. Alfred clasped his hands, striving to maintain his composure.

"Miss, I can't help but feel a certain unease hearing this. Are you sure this is what you want? This house, though empty in many ways, has always been your home..."

"Home?" Y/n looked at him with a mix of sadness and determination. "This house has never been my home, Alfred. Not like it was for Dick, nor even for Bruce. I have always been a stranger here, the daughter of a woman who never fit into this world, the bastard child. My mother taught me to find my own path, to not cling to what doesn’t belong to me... and being here, being called Wayne, has never belonged to me." Alfred sighed softly, turning his gaze toward the window. He knew there was truth in her words, but that didn’t lessen the pain of her leaving. "I know it’s hard to understand," Y/n continued, "but for the first time in a long time, I feel happy, Alfred. I’ve graduated, college is just around the corner, and I want to start anew. I want to find what truly makes me, me... not what others expect of me."

The old butler remained silent for a few moments, nodding slowly. He knew he couldn't retain her, that it was not his place to interfere in the young woman's dreams. But still, he couldn’t help but feel a pang in his heart at the thought of the house being even emptier without her. "I just wish you find what you’re looking for, Miss. And if you ever need a place to return to... this door will always be open for you."

Y/n stepped closer to him, gently hugging him, something she had rarely done. "Thank you, Alfred," she whispered against his shoulder. "You will always be my family, but I need this. I need to discover who I am outside of this last name."

The old butler felt the lump in his throat as he tightened the embrace a little longer before letting her go. He knew that deep down, she was doing the right thing. But that didn’t make it hurt any less to see her leave.

"Alfred, can you call the movers? I’ll be leaving tonight," Y/n said as she closed the last box with trembling hands, her gaze lost in the empty corners of the room she once considered her refuge. The butler, ever serene, nodded with his unwavering calmness.

"Don't worry, Miss, I assure you they will be here on time." His voice was soft, almost an echo of the ancient walls of the mansion, as if he himself were part of that structure that had seen so many comings and goings, so many lives broken and healed in silence.

Alfred turned halfway to leave, but Y/n's voice stopped him, broken yet sweet, like a melody at sunset. "Alfred..."

The man turned slowly, his eyes filled with paternal warmth, though always contained behind a formal gesture. "Yes, Miss?" he replied, with that tranquility that had always brought Y/n peace in her worst moments.

She took a breath, feeling how the words she had kept for so long fought to come out, to break the shell she had built since childhood. "I’ve never told you, but... thank you. Thank you for being the father I never had, for being there when no one else was."

For a moment, the silence in the room was heavier than all the accumulated boxes, deeper than any word. Alfred, who had been a witness to so many confessions and secrets in that house, stood still, his eyes shining with an emotion he rarely showed. "Miss," he murmured, his voice slightly choked, "it was an honor and a privilege to take care of you. If I ever gave you anything close to what you deserved, then my life has had true purpose."

Y/n smiled sadly, nodding slowly. "You did, Alfred. You did. And for that, I will always carry you with me, even if I leave here."

The butler slightly bowed his head in respect, swallowing any emotion that might betray his composure. "Wherever you go, you will always have a home here, Miss."

"I know," she said, though in her heart, she knew she wouldn’t return.

And as Alfred left the room to make the call, Y/n let out a long sigh, as if with it, she were leaving behind a part of herself, a part she could no longer carry with her.

Life in Gotham is like constantly walking on the edge of a razor blade. The city never sleeps, always alert, always dangerous, and for someone with the Wayne surname, the risks multiply. It has been a year since you left the mansion, trying to erase any ties that bound you to that life, desperately wishing the name would fade into the echo of the dirty streets and crumbling buildings. But it's not that easy. The name Wayne remains an indelible mark that the media and the people of Gotham refuse to let fade. The forgotten child, the silent accident of billionaire Bruce Wayne. And although you try to live as if you don’t exist under that shadow, the weight of the legacy haunts you.

You left with little, barely enough money to rent a small apartment in one of the worst corners of the city. You share the space with a friend, a plant-loving girl who has filled every nook of the place with leaves and pots, as if trying to make green defy the constant darkness of Gotham. You get along well with her; her love for nature is almost an antithesis to the chaos of the city, and she has taught you that even in the hardest concrete, something can bloom. She always accompanied you on the coldest, loneliest nights, giving you a warmth that, although ethereal, was very welcome. But still, life is not easy. You barely survive, spending the little you have on cheap food and paying the rent. There are days when the cold seeps through the poorly sealed windows, and you wonder if it was really better to be in the mansion instead of this little trench. However, you prefer this rough freedom to the soulless luxury of Wayne Manor.

Freedom, however, comes at a price. It wasn't enough to distance yourself, to change your life, or even to always carry a knife for defense. Gotham does not forget. People recognize you in the shadows, whisper your name, and approach you, sometimes with curiosity and other times with disdain. You have been beaten more than once. Some just for being a Wayne, others because they think they can extort you, even though they have no idea you can barely get by. The scars on your body bear witness to those beatings, but you refuse to give up. You get up every morning, despite the pain, and continue on your way. You don’t need Batman. You don’t need Bruce. You learned long ago that he wouldn't come to save you.

That night, like so many others, you were heading to the subway for your night shift, with the hood of your coat covering your face, trying to go unnoticed. The sound of the tracks echoed in your ears, a constant reminder of the city's hustle. You had gotten used to walking fast, avoiding eye contact, as if each step was a small battle won against the city. But this time, something was different.

"So it was true, the little Wayne girl is roaming the city... how lovely." The raspy, mocking voice rang out beside you, cutting through the heavy air of the train station. The man speaking wore a suit that, at first glance, seemed elegant, but there was something about his extreme thinness, his skin clinging to his bones and his disheveled hair, that made him look more like a specter of Gotham than a distinguished figure. A ghost from the shadows that had stalked you since you set foot on the streets.

If it weren't for his gaunt appearance and unsettling aura, you might have mistaken him for one of your father's employees. "I'm not a Wayne anymore," you said disdainfully, your voice sharp like the edge of a dagger refusing to be touched. "If you want money, I don’t have any. And Mr. Wayne wouldn’t give a cent for me either."

Your gaze drifted to the station clock. 8 minutes until the train that would take you away from this corner of Gotham, far from the shadows and faces that always seemed to recognize you.

The man let out a dry, raspy laugh that sent chills down your spine. "I don’t want your money, pretty girl," he replied, moving closer, invading your space with the same familiarity that Gotham’s filth slipped into every corner. "You’re worth more than that." You felt his calloused, scarred hand rest on your hip, with a pressure that was neither violent nor friendly. The contact filled you with disgust.

7 minutes.

You clenched your fist, your jaw tight as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I don’t want sex either, idiot," you spat, your words loaded with contained fury. Your hand subtly slid toward your bag, where your knife lay, waiting to be used.

6 minutes.

The man didn’t flinch. In fact, he let out a low, mocking laugh. "And I don’t want that either, little girl," he murmured, his cold, deep blue eyes scrutinizing you as if they could read every dark corner of your soul. "I want something more from you."

5 minutes.

"What do you want then?" you asked, forcing yourself to keep your voice steady, even as the ice of fear began to creep down your spine. Your eyes scrutinized him, searching his gaze for any hint of his true intentions, but all you saw was darkness.

4 minutes.

He let out a long, chilling laugh, tightening his grip on your hip. "Do you know what I want, Y/n?"

3 minutes.

His voice dropped, as if his words were a cursed secret the wind refused to carry away. "I want you."

2 minutes.

The world seemed to stop. You knew there was no time to run. There was no time to pull out the knife or to scream. It was as if the clock itself had conspired against you, reducing those last minutes to mere seconds.

1 minute.

The blow was sharp, a flash of excruciating pain at the back of your head. The cold metal of the station, the hum of the city, everything faded abruptly. The last thought that crossed your mind, before the world vanished into darkness, was that this time, you didn’t expect Batman to save you. It wasn’t a mere thief or a street threat that was taking you.

Gotham, with all its cruelty, always had new ways to remind you that there is no escape.

That night, when the Gotham subway stopped at the station, there was no one to pick up.

The mansion felt emptier than ever, like a deserted and cold labyrinth, where each hallway seemed to stretch into an infinite tunnel, devouring the light.

The silence was overwhelming, an oppression that enveloped every corner, as if even the ancient walls had run out of words. It was so heavy that the few who remained in the mansion couldn’t help but move uncomfortably, trying to fill that void with something, anything.

Bruce Wayne walked through those same hallways with a strange feeling, as if something was missing, though he didn’t know what. An unease, a persistent discomfort that he couldn’t shake off.

He had been like this for months, with that absence haunting his mind, a gap he couldn't identify. And then, suddenly, like a gust of icy wind, the truth struck him.

You.

His daughter.

His little daughter.

How long had it been since he last saw you? When was the last time he heard your laughter, the one that always seemed too sarcastic, too filled with resentment? He stopped abruptly, frowning. Why couldn’t he remember you? He couldn’t bring to mind a clear image of your face, not even how you used to look at him... why? How could he have forgotten you like that?

Damn.

It was as if time had stopped. It had been a year, maybe more, since he had really thought about you. He felt a pang of guilt pierce his chest, a heavy, silent guilt that dragged him into the abyss of his own negligence. Not knowing what else to do, he began to check the rooms, one after another.

Each door he opened was another blow to his conscience. Where was your room? The more he searched, the more confused he felt. The mansion was enormous, but how could he have forgotten where you slept? How was it possible that he didn’t know where you lived in the house where both of you grew up? Had you been here all this time?

Each door he opened was identical to the last, as if all the rooms had fused into one.

None showed a trace of you.

None seemed to have a hint of your presence. Didn’t you decorate your room? He thought frantically, didn’t you even mark it as yours? Panic began to take hold of him. Anxiety wrapped around him like a fist tightening on his chest. Were you still living in the mansion? Or had you left without saying a word, like a shadow fading at dawn? But... no, you hadn’t mentioned anything. You hadn’t said you were leaving. Or had you? And if you had, why didn’t he remember? How could he have ignored you for so long that now he didn’t even know if you were still under the same roof?

“Ah!” he exclaimed in a whisper, unable to contain the dread he felt.

Frustration consumed him from within. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, and the echo of his voice faded into the empty walls. He tried to remember something, anything about you, about the last time they spoke, about how you were... but everything was blurry, as if his mind was betraying him, hiding you behind an impenetrable fog.

How could he have forgotten so much?

He brought his hands to his head, trying to calm himself, but only felt more confusion, more desperation. The mansion, which had once been his home, now felt like a strange and foreign place.

Had you been the one who made it feel like home? The question echoed in his mind, but he had no answer. Just more questions. More uncertainties. Finally, he let his arms fall, exhausted. He had checked almost all the rooms and had found not a trace of you. Not a clue. Not a sign that you had been there. And at that moment, something dark and painful began to settle in his heart.

Had you ever really been there?

Then something caught his attention as he passed by the cleaning room. In a dusty corner, next to a forgotten bag, something was protruding. Something small, old, and faded. He bent down and pulled it from the dirty clothes. It was a stuffed animal, or what was left of one. The faded black of its suit left no doubt. It was a figure of Batman, but worn down by time, battered to the point of looking forgotten.

Bruce's eyes were fixed on the small piece of fabric hanging from the doll's neck. A tag.

Your name.

Your name, handwritten, in ink that was already fading.

Bruce felt a lump in his throat, a mix of guilt and rage. How could he have forgotten something so important?

He clutched the doll tightly, as if doing so would return a piece of you to him, but instead of comfort, he only felt more emptiness. Where were you? He ran to Alfred, who looked at him with a mix of concern and pity.

"Alfred..." Bruce said, his voice breaking. "Where is she? Where is my daughter?"

The butler, with his always serene face, seemed to age suddenly. A long silence settled between them, as if time was fading away. "Mr. Bruce, I didn’t mean to..." Alfred lowered his gaze. "I didn’t want to burden you with that truth, but... it’s time you know."

Bruce felt a chill run down his spine. Truth? What truth?

"She left almost a year ago. She didn’t say where. She just... she took all her belongings, though they weren’t many, and left. She said she didn’t want to be a burden. That you and the other family members had too many things to worry about."

Bruce took a step back, as if the words had physically struck him. Did she have enough age to leave? A burden? Never, not for a second, did he think that of you, of his little daughter who, even though she wasn’t wanted, he embraced under his wing just like Damian.

You were never a burden.

...or were you?

No, he refused to acknowledge it; he just... he hadn’t spent time with you because Gotham needed him!

But when you needed him, where was Batman?

Where was Bruce Wayne when his only biological daughter needed him?

"Alfred, do you know anything about Y/n?" the hero asked, worry clear on his face.

Alfred didn’t look at him; he only stared into nothingness. "...I haven’t heard anything about her for two months...

And honestly... I'm starting to think...

that she might be lost to us forever..."

A/N — This is definitely apart from being my first official Tumblr post, it is also my first DC post and especially the first from the Lord of the Night xD

Don't hesitate to ask me anything if you want.

Isabel, I dedicate this to you, my love. Eat more to be well, you fucking anorexic, don't suck.

take a bath!

inspiration: @acid-ixx with his Again & Again series, @gotham-daydreams' work, @i-cant-sing's work and @klemen-tine's work, be sure to check them out!

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cynic-spirit · 1 month

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Dragonsoul

aemond x reader

fluff pining, longing waiting

In a world where finding your soulmate is as simple as passing them on the street, the black thread tattooed on everyone’s wrist serves as a constant reminder of what could be. When the thread turns gold, it means you’ve found the one person destined to be yours. Most people don’t have to wait long—weeks, months at most—before their tattoo changes, leading them to a love that will last a lifetime.

But in the shadowy alleys of King’s Landing, where power and fear walk hand in hand, there's a man whose thread has never changed. Aemond Targaryen, a name that sends shivers down the spine of even the most hardened criminals, bears the same small black thread on his wrist as everyone else. Yet, for as long as anyone can remember, it has remained as black as the night.

Aemond is no ordinary man. He rules the underworld with an iron fist, his name whispered in hushed tones by those who dare to cross him. Tall, with the signature silver hair of his house and a single sapphire eye that misses nothing, he is as feared as he is respected. His other eye, covered by a black leather patch, is a reminder of the battles he’s fought and won.

People say that Aemond’s thread will never turn gold, that he’s too cold, too ruthless for love. He scoffs at the idea, dismissing it as a weakness he cannot afford. Love, in his world, is just another weapon to be used, another way to manipulate and control.

His siblings, Aegon and Helaena, have both found their soulmates. He remembers the day his brother’s thread turned gold, Aegon’s cocky grin spreading even wider as he flaunted his newfound bond. Helaena’s thread changed not long after, a quiet, serene smile gracing her lips as she met the person fate had chosen for her. They both had their destinies laid out before them, their golden threads a constant reminder of the love they had found.

But Aemond? His thread remains unchanged, stubbornly black, as if it knows something he doesn’t.

It’s easy to tell himself he doesn’t care. Aemond indulges in his work—crime, training, and the endless tasks of maintaining control over his empire. There’s always another rival to crush, another deal to broker, another lesson to teach his men. In the quiet moments, when the city sleeps and he’s left alone with his thoughts, he reminds himself that he doesn’t need or care for a soulmate. His power is all that matters; love would only be a distraction.

He convinces himself that the ache he sometimes feels is nothing more than a passing weakness. That he’s better off alone, unburdened by the complexities and vulnerabilities that come with finding a soulmate.

So Aemond throws himself deeper into his work, his every waking moment consumed by the pursuit of control and power. He trains harder, fights fiercer, and builds his empire brick by brick. Every night, he walks the streets of King’s Landing, overseeing his domain, his cold eyes missing nothing. The black thread on his wrist remains, a silent testament to the life he’s chosen.

But in the darkest corners of his mind, where even he doesn’t dare to tread too often, Aemond wonders if his thread will ever change. And if, perhaps, it does, what it will mean for the man he’s become.

Aegon leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips as he glanced at Aemond. "You know, little brother, it’s almost amusing that you’re still running around with that black thread. The most feared man in King’s Landing, and yet... no soulmate. What’s the matter? Scaring them all off?"

Aemond didn’t even look up from the map he was studying, his voice calm, measured. "I don’t need a soulmate, Aegon. And even if I do find her, I’ll reject her."

Aegon chuckled, shaking his head. "You say that now, but just wait until that thread turns gold. You’ll be just as—"

Aemond cut him off, his eye finally meeting Aegon’s with a cold intensity. "It won’t. And even if it does, she’ll mean nothing to me."

The finality in his tone silenced Aegon, the room falling into an uneasy quiet.

Aegon raised an eyebrow at Aemond’s response but decided to let it slide. He leaned forward, changing the subject. "Speaking of things that mean nothing to you," he began with a grin, "there’s a party tonight. Big affair—Targaryens are hosting it. Almost 500 people, all the major players in the city, and some from beyond. Strictly business, of course, but it should be... entertaining."

Aemond’s expression remained impassive as he folded up the map. "And you’re telling me this because...?"

Aegon chuckled. "Because, little brother, it’s expected of you. You know how these things work—show your face, shake a few hands, remind everyone why they fear you."

Aemond sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Fine. But don’t expect me to stay long."

Aegon shrugged, still grinning. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Aemond stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the collar of his all-black suit. The fabric was immaculate, tailored to perfection, every line sharp and precise. Black was the only color he wore, the only one he owned. It suited him—uncompromising, severe, just like the reputation he had carefully cultivated over the years.

He reached for his cuff buttons, his gaze flicking to the small black thread tattooed on his wrist. It was a habit he couldn’t seem to break, even though it had never changed, never given him any reason to hope. The thread was as black as the suit he wore, a permanent reminder of what he didn’t have and had convinced himself he didn’t need.

Aemond’s fingers lingered over the thread for a moment, his expression unreadable. “Maybe I don’t deserve love,” he thought, the words cold and unbidden in his mind. He quickly dismissed the thought, fastening the cuff buttons with practiced precision. Love was a luxury, a distraction. He had other things to concern himself with—like the party he was about to attend, a gathering of the city’s most powerful players, all there to solidify their alliances under the Targaryen name.

He straightened his jacket, giving his reflection one last glance before turning away. The party didn’t matter to him, but his presence did. It was a necessary part of the game he played, the world he controlled.

Without another thought, Aemond left the room, his steps measured and deliberate, ready to face the night and the role he played so well.

The grand ballroom of the Targaryen estate was alive with the buzz of conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the opulent room, where nearly 500 of the city’s elite mingled, making deals and forging alliances under the guise of celebration. Aemond moved through the crowd with practiced ease, his every movement purposeful and controlled.

Aegon was in his element, charming guests with effortless charisma, his golden thread plainly visible on his wrist as he exchanged pleasantries and flirtations. Aemond, on the other hand, gave the crowd the bare minimum of his attention, offering a polite nod here, a brief conversation there. Women, drawn to his aura of power and danger, flocked to him, their gazes lingering, their touches bold. They threw themselves at him with obvious intent, hoping to catch the eye of the infamous Aemond Targaryen.

But Aemond’s responses were distant, his interest almost nonexistent. He was polite, detached, offering them just enough attention to be courteous but never more. His mind was elsewhere, focused on the business side of the evening, on the faces of potential threats and allies.

As the hours passed, the night seemed like any other—a routine, a necessary part of his life. Until suddenly, it wasn’t.

Aemond felt a strange sensation creeping into his chest. His heartbeat, usually steady and controlled, began to quicken, pounding erratically in a way that he couldn’t ignore. The sudden intensity made his breath catch, and his hand instinctively moved to his wrist.

The tattoo—it was burning.

Aemond’s eyes widened, a flash of shock and confusion crossing his face for the briefest of moments. He clenched his fist, trying to focus, but the sensation only grew stronger, more insistent. The burning under his skin became almost unbearable, and for the first time in years, Aemond felt genuinely off balance.

He quickly excused himself from the woman he had been barely listening to, his voice calm despite the turmoil inside him. “Apologies, I need a moment,” he said, his tone clipped but polite.

Without waiting for a response, Aemond turned on his heel and made his way through the crowd, his steps brisk as he headed toward the restroom. The sensation in his wrist was intensifying with every step, the burning now almost searing, as if his body was reacting to something—or someone—in the room.

He pushed open the door to the restroom and quickly locked it behind him. The mirror in front of him reflected his composed exterior, but inside, he was anything but. His chest tightened as he looked down at his wrist, dreading what he might see.

For a moment, he hesitated, his breath coming in shallow bursts. The room was quiet, the noise of the party muffled behind the closed door. Aemond swallowed hard, then slowly rolled up his sleeve, his heart pounding in his ears.

What he saw made his breath hitch in his throat.

The black thread on his wrist was no longer just black. It was shifting, shimmering as if something deep within it was coming to life. The darkness that had always defined it was fading, giving way to something... brighter.

Aemond stared in disbelief, his mind racing as he tried to process what was happening. The burn, the erratic heartbeat—everything suddenly made sense, and yet, it was the one thing he had convinced himself would never happen.

His thread was changing.

Y/N stood backstage, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and anxiety. As a professional pianist and music teacher, she had performed countless times, yet tonight felt different. The Targaryen party promised an audience of the city’s elite, and the stakes felt higher than ever.

Her long black hair flowed down her back, framing her face as she adjusted the collar of her elegant dress. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the flutter of nerves in her stomach. The murmurs of conversation and laughter filtered through the walls, but all she could think about was the weight of the crowd’s gaze.

When the time came, Y/N stepped onto the stage, the grand piano gleaming under the soft lights. She faced the instrument, avoiding eye contact with the audience, and placed her fingers above the keys. The fear of scrutiny loomed large, but she was determined to lose herself in the music.

As she began to play, the rich, melodic strains filled the air, weaving through the chatter. The haunting beauty of the piece captivated the audience, drawing them in as Y/N allowed the music to envelop her. Each note flowed effortlessly from her fingertips, yet her heart raced with the fear of being watched.

Then, just as she lost herself in the performance, she noticed a flicker of gold at her wrist. The black thread tattoo that had always defined her began to shimmer, transforming into a radiant golden hue. Her breath caught in her throat as realization washed over her—her soulmate was near.

But before she could turn her gaze to find him, a loud shout broke through the melody. “Get away, you freeloaders! The party’s over!” Aegon’s drunken voice rang out, followed by the sharp crack of gunfire as he shot into the ceiling.

Panic rippled through the crowd, and Y/N's heart dropped. The music faltered for just a moment as startled guests turned toward the chaos, their eyes wide with fear. In that instant, the golden glow of her thread dimmed against the backdrop of confusion and disorder, the connection slipping away before she could grasp it.

Her pulse quickened, and she instinctively looked down, the brilliance of her thread overshadowed by the chaos erupting around her. The moment of potential connection vanished, leaving her standing alone on stage, the applause fading into distant murmurs as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

Aemond stood frozen, staring at the golden thread on his wrist, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he could barely contain. For a few moments, all he could do was try to steady his breathing, grappling with the realization that had just hit him like a bolt of lightning.

His soulmate was here, at the party.

The truth of it washed over him in waves. She was close—close enough for his thread to change, close enough to alter the course of everything he thought he knew about himself.

“Who is she?” he thought, the question burning in his mind. He needed to find her, to see the face of the one who had unknowingly changed his fate. His pulse quickened again, this time with urgency, as his eyes darted to the door. It was just 500 people, right? He could find her, he would find her. He’d turn over every stone, every guest, if he had to. The cold calculation that had guided him all his life kicked in, and he knew that he would not rest until he identified her.

But just as he reached for the door, ready to step back into the crowded ballroom, he heard a noise outside. It was faint at first, but unmistakable—a muffled shout, followed by the sound of something crashing to the floor.

Aemond’s hand hovered over the doorknob, his instincts shifting from the desperate need to find his soulmate to assessing this new potential threat. The noise came again, louder this time, accompanied by hurried footsteps and the murmur of raised voices.

His mind snapped back into the mode that had served him so well for years—alert, calculating, and prepared for anything. Whatever was happening out there, it wasn’t part of the evening’s planned events. Aemond knew better than to ignore disturbances, especially in a place that was supposed to be under his family’s control.

He took a deep breath, pushing the rush of emotions aside, focusing instead on the immediate task at hand. He needed to know what was going on, to assess the situation before it spiraled out of control. The search for his soulmate would have to wait—at least for now.

With a swift motion, Aemond opened the door and stepped into the hallway, his eyes scanning the corridor for the source of the commotion. The noise was coming from just around the corner, near the entrance to the ballroom. He could hear more clearly now—raised voices, the unmistakable edge of panic creeping into the tone of the guests.

Aemond’s jaw tightened, the golden thread still gleaming on his wrist as he moved toward the sound. Whatever was happening, it couldn’t be good. And it seemed that, for the moment at least, the mystery of his soulmate would have to remain unsolved.

As Aemond stepped into the main area of the party, the scene that greeted him was chaotic. Guests were hastily leaving, their faces painted with a mix of shock and confusion. The atmosphere that had once been lively and filled with laughter was now charged with panic.

In the center of it all stood Aegon, clearly drunk, a wild grin plastered on his face as he brandished a gun, shooting it toward the ceiling. “Get away, you freeloaders! The party’s over!” he shouted, laughter mingling with the chaos.

Aemond’s heart raced, and he sprang into action, his instincts kicking in. “Aegon!” he called, his voice sharp and authoritative, cutting through the commotion. “Put that down before someone gets hurt!”

But Aegon, in his drunken haze, seemed oblivious to the danger. Aemond pushed through the throngs of fleeing guests, his mind racing as he assessed the situation. Half the guests had already left, their hurried exits echoing the urgency in Aemond’s chest.

He closed the distance to Aegon, his expression hardening with determination. “You need to stop this right now!” Aemond shouted, trying to get his brother’s attention.

Aegon looked at him, still grinning, but Aemond could see the flicker of mischief fading. “Oh, come on, Aemond! Just having a little fun!” he slurred, waving the gun around carelessly.

Aemond felt a surge of frustration. “This isn’t fun; it’s reckless!” He lunged forward, grabbing Aegon’s arm and forcing the gun down. “You’re ruining everything!”

In the chaos, Aemond’s wrist brushed against his suit, and he instinctively peeked at his tattoo. His heart dropped. The golden shimmer was gone, replaced once again by the familiar black. The warmth and connection he had felt moments ago had vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving only a hollow ache in its place.

“Aemond?” Aegon’s voice broke through his thoughts, the drunken haze giving way to confusion. “What’s wrong?”

The weight of the moment settled heavily on Aemond’s shoulders as he looked around at the disorder. He had been so close—so close to discovering his soulmate, to understanding what it meant to feel this new connection. But now, as the last remnants of the party unraveled, he felt the threads of fate slip through his fingers like sand.

“Just... stay out of trouble,” Aemond said, his tone clipped as he forced himself to refocus. He had to regain control of the situation. He glanced back at the dwindling crowd, noting the last few guests who lingered, unsure of what to do next.

With a resolute breath, Aemond stepped back into the fray, ready to salvage what he could of the night.

As Y/N stood at the piano, the chaos of the party unfolded around her. She caught a glimpse of Aemond Targaryen through the throng of guests, emerging from the restroom, his expression dark and determined. He moved swiftly toward Aegon, who was still brandishing his gun and shouting.

A rush of anxiety flooded through her. What would happen next? The tension in the air was palpable, and Y/N felt a cold sweat on her brow. She could see Aemond’s outstretched hand, his brow furrowed with intensity, and she knew he was about to intervene.

But the thought of the confrontation made her heart race with fear. Aemond’s fierce demeanor, mixed with Aegon’s reckless behavior, created an atmosphere that was volatile, and she couldn’t bear to witness what might unfold.

With a shaky breath, Y/N made a decision. She couldn’t stay here any longer, caught in the tension of the moment, so she slipped away from backstage. As she moved, she avoided making eye contact with anyone, feeling the weight of their gazes on her, and the fear of being drawn into the chaos overwhelmed her.

The music faded behind her as she hurried out of the room, the sounds of shouting and gunfire echoing faintly in her ears. The allure of the golden thread, the connection she had felt just moments ago, was overshadowed by the turmoil that had erupted around her. All she could think about was escaping the madness, leaving the uncertainty of the night behind.

As she stepped outside into the cool air, she felt a mixture of relief and regret wash over her. The opportunity had slipped through her fingers, lost in the chaos of the party, and now she could only hope that whatever happened inside would resolve itself without further violence.

The morning light streamed through Aemond’s window, casting a warm glow across the room. He sat on the edge of his bed, his gaze fixed on the small black thread tattooed on his wrist. It was unchanged, the familiar darkness mocking him with its permanence.

He couldn’t shake the memory of the previous night—the fleeting moment when the thread had shimmered gold, the realization that his soulmate was near. It had felt like a revelation, an awakening, but Aegon’s reckless antics had shattered everything before he could grasp it.

“Damn it, Aegon,” Aemond thought bitterly, frustration bubbling within him. “You couldn’t just behave for one night? Was it too much to ask to let me have this moment?”

He felt anger course through him, fueled by the knowledge that his brother’s stupidity had cost him something precious. “You’re such an idiot. Do you even realize what you’ve done? You had to go and play the fool, waving a gun around like a child! Do you think this is a game?”

Aemond clenched his jaw, recalling the chaos Aegon had wrought, how quickly the atmosphere had shifted from anticipation to panic. “You’ve ruined everything. You had your fun at my expense, and now I’m stuck here, still waiting.”

The thread on his wrist, once a symbol of the potential for love and connection, now felt like a chain binding him to his frustration. “How could you be so careless? You’re supposed to be my brother, not my downfall.”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he tried to focus. “So close yet so far,” he mused, longing filling his chest. “If only you could keep your mouth shut for five minutes. I could have found her. I could have finally understood what it meant to feel whole.”

Aemond glared at the thread, wishing for it to transform again, to be the golden mark of his soulmate that would signify a future he desperately craved. But now it remained black, just as it always had, a reminder of the connection he’d nearly grasped but had been cruelly denied.

“Next time,” he thought fiercely, “I’ll be ready. I won’t let you ruin this for me again.” He vowed silently, determination sparking within him. The world felt heavy on his shoulders, but he knew he wouldn’t give up. He would find her. One way or another, he would make it happen.

part 2

LIKE AND REBLOG PLEASE <3. ITS MY FIRST FIC MOBSTER AEMOND!!

Let me know if I should continue this 🌼

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond x soulmate #aemond targaryen soulmate #mob au #modern aemond #modern aemond targaryen #modern aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond x reader #aemond x you #aemond x y/n

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reyadawn · 2 months

Text

Dance With the Devil

*images used are not mine, credit to owners*

Summary: Noah Sebastian is a demon of the underworld disguised as a Priest to spy and prey on weak mortals...especially her.

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: 🔞+, BDSM, language, some religious mentions, kissing, hair pulling, choking, fingering, bondage, oral, unprotected sex (fucking wrap it, kids), creampie

DO NOT READ IF UNDER AGE OF 18

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Please, please be kind. This took me quite a long time to put together. As always, happy reading! ✌️🤭

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The sound of footsteps echoed lightly across the smooth slate as Noah "Father" Sebastian slowly skirted around the last row of wooden pews. The freshly polished wood glistened under the light of the floor length candleabras that lined the edges of the pews.

Noah's dark orbs slowly scanned the nave as most of the congregation had already left when the sermon was over. There were still a few people that lingered who were speaking with a couple of the other priests who remained behind. Noah chuckled as his ears picked up the voice of concern from a man talking with Father Folio about his financial hardship, yet in his mind was thinking about ploughing his next door neighbors' daughter. The irony of it all damn near had Noah bursting into untrollable laughter but resigned his decision. The last thing he needed was unwanted attention.

Noah continued to slowly walk the nave, eyes lingering on Father Karlsson as he straightened the red silk runner on the stone altar. His attention then landed on a couple who were sitting at one of the pews. The woman was crying as the man next to her held her. Her grief wrapped around Noah's heart like a vice and he smirked. They would be wonderful candidates but before he could approach them, his entire body froze.

Noah's muscles tightened, limbs rigid, feet rooted to the stone slate floor as he slowly drew in a breath. Innocence. Not quite virgin but it might as well have been, it was so pure. Noah scanned the pews, eyes finally coming to rest on her.

READER'S POV

The wooden pew was cold under the loose, thin fabric of the white summer dress I wore, despite having sat for over two hours. My fingers twisted around themselves in my lap as my left leg bounced up and down nervously. My hair fell over my shoulder, creating a curtain of privacy as I hung my head and tried to control my breathing.

I abruptly stood up and turned to leave when I crashed headlong into a very firm chest. Large hands laden with tattoos grasped my arms to hold me steady as I looked up into the face of the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Extremely tall, dark hair not quite chin length falling into his eyes, dark eyes and full lips that were slightly parted, giving me a glimpse of perfectly white teeth. I'm sure I was being rude by staring at him but Jesus, he was breathtaking. Go figure he was a priest.

"Are you alright, child?", he asked, voice deep with concern. Dear God have mercy, even his voice was perfection, the baritone sound vibrating through my body to squarely land on my clit and my breath caught. All I could do was nod as liquid heat filled the sheer fabric of the panties I wore.

"I'm Father Sebastian...but you will call me Noah", the man said. I nodded again, completely awestruck. My line of sight traveled from his face and down his neck, admiring the colorful tattoos that covered the majority of the skin exposed above the black shirt he wore behind the matching black blazer; odd attire for a priest. A silver chain hung around his neck, stopping just below his collar bone. The urge to grab it and hang on for dear life as he slotted himself between my thighs had me shifting my weight from one foot to the other.

Noah grinned...and it was sinnister. The edges of his full lips curled knowingly as he brought a hand up, fingers touching my hair softly. He raised his other hand in the air and snapped his long fingers once. The doors to the church slammed closed, causing me to jump, and all the candles were snuffed out leaving small tendrils of smoke in thier wake. What the fuck?Noah turned back to me, smirk still planted on his handsome features.

"Your innocence is intoxicating, pretty girl...I can smell it. You've hardly been noticed...or touched. Such a same, really, a beauitful creature left unattended to for so long", Noah said softly, his fingertips ghosting over the swell of my breasts above the bodice of my dress. My breathing became labored as I parted my lips in an attempt to inhale more oxygen into my body.

"Noah, please", I whispered. "Help me". Noah's fingers lifted from my skin and I whimpered at the loss. Those long fingers carded themselves into my hair before grabbing a fistful and tugging my head back. Noah's lips suddenly met mine in a soul searing kiss that stole the breath from my lungs. My hands shot to the lapels of his blazer and the pornographic whimper I let loose was practically embarrassing. Noah's hold on me tightened as he slanted his lips across mine, tongue pushing into the depths of my mouth to lick at my own. Holy fuck the man could kiss. My legs were jell-o, toes curling inside the heels I wore, my pussy oozing more slick into the now useless panties I wore. The fabric did nothing to stop my arousal from dampening my thighs.

Noah slowly pulled back and he brought a hand to wrap around my throat, applying just enough pressure to remind me who was in charge. His dominance, his demanding body language, the sheer power that radiated from him wrapped around every fiber of my being. It damn near sent me to my knees and I would have had no problem confessing all kinds of shit I've never done so long as he kept kissing me like that.

Noah once again raised his hand and snapped his fingers again. What the hell was he that he had this kind of power?This time I found myself laying down on the altar, naked, arms and legs bound open by the cold press of chains. I couldn't move as fear swept over me and I looked around wildly for a way out. Not that it would do any good if I found one considering I was chained to fucking stone.

Noah's form chose that moment to come into view and he was just as naked as I was. Body shrouded in tattoos, muscles defined and thickly corded along his shoulders, back and arms. The cock this man sported was long, thick and had my mouth watering. Not that I had much choice but I was about to fight for my place in Heaven, especially since I was about to either be killed for being stupid or fucked beyond an inch of my life and in the house of God of all places.

Noah climbed on top of me, his much larger frame barely fitting on the altar with me. His eyes roamed over my body, fingertips dancing over my skin burning hot trails of desire in thier wake. He reached between my thighs, fingers swipping through the slick that was present and brought his fingers to his mouth, eyes rolling back at the taste.

"You taste fucking delicious, pretty girl...I'm going to devour every inch of your mind, corrupt your soul...I'll have you crying and begging for anything and everything as my cock splits open this pretty little cunt...I'll fill you to the brim until you're a writhing mess beneath me and when all is done...I'll take you with me", Noah said darkly, the whites of his eyes now turning fully black. I gasped softly, fear and desire swirling in my chest as my pussy clenched around nothing.

"Who are you?", I asked. Noah smiled, his perfectly white teeth flashing.

He blinked once. "I'm a demon". I stared up at him in shock as my wrists and legs tried pulling free from the chains that bound me. As if I could go anywhere. It really was quite comical, if you thought about the situation from outside the box. That was exactly the line Dean Winchester used in Supernatural when he fought Cole. Lord I was in trouble.

Despite the fear rushing through my veins, there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop the reaction my body had to him. Noah dipped his head, lips once again pressing to mine as his fingers swept through my drenched folds, the rough pad of his middle finger softly rubbing over my clit. My eyes rolled back and my hips jerked. Noah moaned as his fingers slipped inside the tight confines of my body, my walls clenching around him. He pulled away and turned his head to watch his fingers scissoring me open, each time pulling out, glistening with my arousal.

"Fuck, you're so wet...so tight...how are you this goddamn tight?", he whispered rhetorically. Before I could answer, he moved off the altar, coming to stand at my feet and stared down at me, onyx eyes devouring me and he smiled devilishly.

Noah dove himself between my thighs, lips and tongue immediately going after my clit as his long fingers once again thrust inside me, curling against the spongy part right behind my pussy. I threw my head back and screamed as my orgasm rushed through my body, sending my nerve endings ablaze and shutting my brain down.

"That's right, pretty girl, sing for me", Noah said against my pussy. He sucked my clit harder, tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers delved in and out of my pussy at a relentless pace, fingers still curled in a come-hither motion.

"Noah, I-", but I was cut off as another orgasm washed over me like waves, no doubt coating Noah's hand and face as my voice echoed around the empty nave. My limbs tightened against the hold of the chains and my thighs started trembling. Noah pulled away from me, not even bothering to wipe his mouth and crawled up my body as he planted hot open mouthed kisses in his wake, stopping to suck on my nipples in turn.

Reaching my lips yet again, he settled his narrow hips between my thighs and his tongue pushed his way past my lips as his cock found purchase in the tight depths of my sodden cunt. I gasped at the intrusion, his cock stretching me far beyond anything I ever felt, his head nestling against my cervix. Then he started thrusting and my entire body shattered.

Noah shuttled his cock in and out of my willing body as if he would die any second. Deep, brutal thrusts that had my body spiraling into another orgasm, my cunt gripping his cock like a vice.

"That's it...let go for me, pretty girl", Noah said between thrusts, as one hand shot to wrap around my throat and the other grabbing my hip so tight I was sure his finger prints would be marked permanently into my skin. I threw my head back, skull colliding with stone as I screamed again, washing Noah's cock in my release as it soaked the runner beneath us. This only seemed to spur him on even more, jackhammering his cock inside me.

"St-st-stop, Noah...too-too much...please", I stuttered, desperately trying to catch my breath and hold onto whatever semblance of control over my mind I had left. Noah refused to let up, eyes narrowing with determintion.

"Don't fight me, pretty girl...I'm more powerful than you can imagine...give me your mind...your body is already mine...surrender to me...", Noah said behind clenched teeth, fingers squeezing tighter around my throat, black spots dancing across my vision.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was losing the battle. The longer Noah fucked me into that stone altar, the more I could feel my resolve slipping. I tried so hard to fight to keep my humanity...to keep myself but the tighter he held onto me, the tighter the chains constricted, it was only a matter of time.

"Yes...feel my power...feel it take hold...one more, one more, pretty girl and you're mine...", Noah said darkly, black eyes sparkling.

One last hard and pelvic-bruising thrust had me surrendering completely, my eyes closing, body going limp as Noah held himself inside my body. Warmth spread across my lower abdomen as he pumped so much hot come inside my body it was squelching out between us to splash on the runner that was already soaked. His inhuman shout was deafening as it reverberated through the nave, the painted glass windows vibrating and shaking.

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Noah reluctantly and slowly dragged his cock from the tight recess of her body, wincing at the loss of her heat. Looking down at her, she looked so peaceful as her laguid body was thoroughly fucked out. He could feel her mind, completely fucked out and empty.

With a soft kiss to her lips, Noah raised his hand and snapped his fingers one final time, both of them vanishing. All that was left was the barely there presence of black smoke before it, too, disappeared...

🤭✌️❤️

@concreteemo @concreteangel92 @kissingarose @millie-aubs @artificialstardust @amourtoken @bloodylullaby @bluestdai @collidewiththesavannah @dsireland86 @dreamstyles @exitwoundsx @flowery-mess @iamamatus @iluvmewwwww75 @kaliforniahigh @lilhobgobbler @lovexsleepyhead @livingdeceasedgirl @philomenie @sacredthefran @fadingintothegrey @themodern-daywednesday @thisbicc @tikosblogg @xcllnt @xmads-omensx @yarasdead @lolitasangel @starsomens ❤️

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian smut #bad omens cult #holy shit #this ruined me

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artemiszy · 2 months

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WHEN THE SEASONS CHANGE | Hades X Reader

Hades X Persephone!Reader | Record of Ragnarok

"In which the god of the underworld falls in love with a young goddess of spring."

WARNING. stalking, hades being a little creep(?), reader is persephone. FEMALE READER

Among the deities of the Greek pantheon, (Name) was always a curious little thing compared to everyone else around her. The strange momentary union between the king of the gods and the goddess of agriculture came unexpectedly. When the young goddess was born, her mother, Demeter, took her in her arms for the first time and swore to herself that she would never allow anything to happen to her sweet girl.

(Name) grew up and lived in her mother's domain, who kept her away from the eyes of others and any greed of thirsty gods. The girl on the other hand, was eventually becoming a beautiful and adorable deity.

Something her mother always told her was to never go to corners of Valhalla that did not belong to her domain, or any corner where the young goddess was not under her watchful eye. (Name) however, never worried about such words, obeying her mother without any protest, preferring to be among the beauty of the flowers and the abundant flora than among so many gods with curious looks.

Zeus was an interesting father, but he rarely saw her; on one of those rare encounters, where (Name) was walking through a forest right before playing with some flowers that sprouted from the ground thanks to her presence. Her father appeared and became very excited when he invited her to her first meeting among the gods, where every thousand years they would all come together in a great council and decide the fate of humanity.

Her mother, of course, immediately objected, firmly stating that there was no need for her daughter's presence as she was still a young deity and that she did not wish to expose her so soon to all those male gods so eager to feel at least a single taste of his much-loved daughter. And if (Name) didn't want to go, she definitely wouldn't have to.

And oh, how Demeter wished she had denied it. But (Name) put on her best dress made of flowers and roots that matched her (h/c) hair that was always blowing in the wind adorned with small flower petals scattered among its strands, and decided with determination that she would attend.

(Name) always thought that her first time at the council of the gods wouldn't be a big deal, but oh, she barely noticed when she started getting looks from all around, which were furiously returned by the icy, dangerous-looking gaze coming from the goddess of agriculture, who uttered words like “stay away from my daughter”.

Gods from different pantheons who observed with curiosity — others even with desire — the mysterious so-called goddess of spring of the Greek pantheon who for some reason was so well kept from everyone.

When the council finally began, (Name) sat in her seat among so many others — Demeter at her side, as always — and listened to everything her father, in the center, had to say, about how humanity could be poor and at the same time beautiful, and how mortals could or could not receive back everything they accomplished, whether good or bad. Some gods had their own arguments, about how they deserved to perish or live. Some of them just interested in causing disorder instead of really caring about such things done by humanity, others wishing they lived because they deserved it, despite the world being beautiful and also cruel. Others just remained silent listening attentively to everything the council had to argue.

And he was one of those last.

Initially, (Name) was able to notice that someone was watching her longer than usual; Normally, Demeter would notice even before she did and would make such a deity look away immediately. However, the older goddess was too busy having her own arguments, whether good or bad.

The feeling never disappeared since the beginning of the council, and trying to remain discreet so that no one would notice that something was bothering her, from the corner of her eye (Name) carefully observed any corner of that place in search of that god or goddess that the watched tirelessly. And then, her eyes met him.

At no point did he remove his gaze from her, even after she noticed. He was a deity of the Greek pantheon, and she recognized that guy very well, even though she had never met him in person. He was a tall, well-built man with platinum hair and was well dressed, his serious face, one of whose eyes was covered by a type of mask with a bright blue sphere. One of his parents' older brothers, Hades, the ruler of Helheim.

(Name) felt her body a little strange, not because of discomfort caused by that powerful god, but out of curiosity. Why did he look at her more than the others?

The young goddess was barely able to pay attention to the rest of the council and all the words spoken went in one ear and out the other, as if they were just muffled sounds in the distance. The feeling of being watched never disappearing, (Name) having the desire to be able to look at in the corner of her eye again only for their eyes to meet again, as she knew very well that he remained the entire meeting looking directly at her.

She wondered if everything that was said at the meeting also went in one ear and out the other for him.

In the end, Demeter instructed her daughter to return to her palace where they both lived. (Name) obeyed, however, before leaving, she saw him again. Some god was talking to him about something, he seemed barely aware that Hades' gaze remained fixed on her. The young goddess looked at him one last time and disappeared along with the wind that carried flower petals into the air.

And then spring arrived.

As time passed, (Name)'s visits to Valhalla became more and more common, but not frequent; especially when the young goddess ended up making a friend with the goddess of love, Aphrodite, who seemed extremely excited about something involving (Name).

In this period of time, all the previous sensations felt by her during the council returned from time to time, whether in Valhalla or in some other realm. (Name) knew he was watching her from afar. She didn't feel scared, on the contrary, curiosity spread throughout her divine body when she thought about that god, wondering why he was watching her so much, at that point, Demeter would have already intervened, and like her mother until that moment didn't show any reaction, (Name) guessed that she most likely still didn't even have in mind what was happening between her beloved daughter and the ruler of Helheim.

Not that anything was really happening, sometimes, during the very few moments they met — which basically consisted of events happening in Valhalla, he was always with one of his brothers and she was with her mother or Aphrodite — they never even exchanged a one single word, just quick glances, he kept while she looked away when he noticed.

He didn't look at her seriously, much less severely, nor with disgust. His look conveyed something that seemed more genuine, as if he wanted to get closer to her but never knew how, maybe greet her and kiss her hand. However, he just looked away back to what he was focused on as nothing happened. And then everything was repeated.

The only time (Name) felt watched outside of Valhalla was when she was in an open field in Midgard as she used to do for fun or just to pass the time. She sat on the greenish grass in front of a lake where a large group of different flowers with different colors were blooming around it, giving the field a more lived-in look along with some trees present there.

And then it was as if the air had cooled and all that color was slowly disappearing as the flowers were dying. (Name) stood up and looked back, and then she saw him. Hades was standing about ten meters behind her, with his usual well-groomed appearance and elegant suit; the common stoic face looking straight at her. (Name) didn't move, didn't get closer, much less try to run away. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, until he slowly approached, and she finally said something.

— "Why are you here?"

— "I wanted to see you." — It was the first time she heard his voice, it was worthy of a powerful god, it only sounded melodious to her thanks to the way he spoke with such calmness in his tone.

— "Why here?" — (Name)'s voice was soft like the breeze that swayed the flowers and leaves. — “We used to see each other in Valhalla... you could have talked to me a long time ago."

And then he stopped five meters away and observed her as if he were analyzing her being, (Name) almost wanted to ask another question, but her eyes met again until he said:

— “The way those other gods looked at you... in such a thirsty way as if they were doing everything to be able to resist temptation...” — He said calmly and seriously, despite his voice seeming distant. — “I felt like I couldn’t resist the urge to gouge out their eyes.”

(Name) didn't respond immediately, feeling surprised by such words spoken by the powerful god in front of her. And then she pressed her lips into a line to keep from gasping and slowly turned her body to the side, watching the flowers at her feet lose their color — not literally, but as if Hades's presence alone was enough to take away the life of anything, it was to be expected that Greek mortals would fear him so much.

— “You were also watching me...” — She murmured without taking her eyes off the flowers.

— “Not like them.”

And then her eyes met once again, (Name) felt as if she was back to her first time at the council of Valhalla, where their eyes first met that time, when he remained watching her from afar while she was unable to pay attention to anything else thanks to that.

And then the god approached again, and (Name) made no protest at that, much less when she felt him carefully hold one of her strands of hair and wrap it around his own index finger.

— “Demeter has always been very protective of you.” — He said, looking at the strand now in her palm. — “I wish I had met her sooner.” — He closed his eyes and let out a short sigh. — “I don’t blame her, to be honest. It bothers me so much just to think what would have happened if someone had gotten there before me.”

(Name) was not a fool, she recognized that there were many people out there who would love to do things against her will, Demeter always warned her to be careful, perhaps that was one of the reasons why she was such a protective mother. But (Name) never complained, after all, she loved her mother and greatly appreciated all her care.

And then she turned to face the god, and despite also being a goddess, the way Hades' aura was so powerful it even almost knocked her off balance, which was no surprise, since the he was one of the three great gods of the Greek pantheon along with Zeus and Poseidon.

— “I talked to Zeus about you.” — Hades spoke in his usual calm and stoic tone. — “He said you were a lovely goddess, you know?”

(Name) hummed in agreement. — “I once asked Aphrodite about you... she seemed pretty excited about it.” — She informed and Hades threw his head back and let out a grumble.

— “I know a lot about that woman...” — He mumbled before returning his face to the front, where (Name) could see a small frown. — “I know exactly what she plans.”

A short silence fell between the two, but it was quickly dissolved when (Name) decided to question:

— “And what does she plan?”

The god faced her in silence, taking two steps forward, making both (Name) and him feel each other's soft breathing, Hades tilting his face down so he could be face to face with the goddess.

Normally in a situation like that (Name) she would have been instructed to turn her back on the god and leave that place as quickly as possible, as Demeter had instructed her since the young goddess was able to understand the world around her. But instead she didn't move, she was curious and wanted to finally face it, she remained still in front of Hades while he moved one of his large hands against (Name)'s soft face.

And then he brought his face closer to hers.

— “Do you want to know?”

(Name)'s head slowly bobbed up and down in confirmation, and the next moment their lips came together. And he kissed her, it was a calm and unhurried kiss, but there was a flame of desire that seemed to already burn in the god's chest while something hot was lit in the goddess's.

Hades' other free hand then grabbed (Name)'s waist and pulled her closer, both of them pressing their bodies against each other while the girl's arms wrapped around the god's shoulders, pulling him closer and giving him more depth to the kiss. It was as if time had disappeared, not just time but everything around her; the sky, the wind and even the flowers. It was as if there were only both of them in the world as their lips intertwined sweetly in an act of longing.

When they separated, still extremely close and never looking away from anything other than each other, Hades ran his thumb close to the lower lip of (Name's) half-open mouth, who was panting softly and imperceptibly. The god's eyes left (Name)'s eyes to now stare at her pink lips, as if he were about to place another kiss there, this time even more intense, the goddess recognized this when she noticed a certain type of sparkle in the god's eyes in front of her.

And then he looked at her once more.

— "Close your eyes." — He instructed, and without thinking twice, (Name) obeyed.

The ground shook, but it didn't bother her. And then she heard the sound of a crater being opened, and it was when she felt the ground beneath her missing that she realized she was falling. But that didn't bother her.

Later in that same greenish and sunny field, (Name)'s mother arrives, calling her daughter after spending the whole day looking for her. But with no sign.

And then winter arrived.

#ror #record of ragnarok #shuumatsu no valkyrie #snv #hades #hades x reader #persephone reader #persephone #demeter #ror hades #ror demeter #ror persephone #record of ragnarok x reader #ror x reader #snv x reader #anime

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lmae98 · 10 months

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Parallels DMC3 - DMC5

The first four pictures are about Vergil pushing Dante away. In DMC3 he even threatens Dante with Yamato, but in DMC5 he doesn't try that hard, he just gives his brother one last chance to turn back. In DMC3 Dante is kind of processing everything (this is how I see his silence) and doesn't get the chance to say something; in DMC5, instead, he had enought time to think (like two decades) and he's 100% sure of what he wants to amend. Since DMC3 we can see the instant regret in Dante's face the moment Vergil falls. In my point of view, Dante does in DMC5 what he feels he should have done in DMC3: Stay by his brother's side.

The next two are about Nero taking Dante's place. Is now Nero who helplessly watches how the family he's just found (and the remaining one), leaves. His fear it's similar to Dante's (in DMC3), he doesn't know if he'll see them again but, unlike Dante (who thinks that Vergil is aproaching to a certain death), he knows for sure that they'll be alright. I believe that Dante's last words to Nero were of comfort, that he somehow kept in mind when he was in Nero's place and wanted to free the boy from the same thing he felt. I believe that Vergil had that in mind too when he promises his return to Nero (in his own special/weird way).

The next two are about the selfless/violent sacrifice. In DMC3 Vergil's attitude (cutting Dante's hand with Yamato) is not just about pushing Dante away, but a way to free his brother from him, to letting him move on and have a life too (that's my interpretation, not a fact btw, like almost everything in this post). It's the same when Nero is punched/knocked back because, in theory, he can go with them too and I don't think the world is gonna end for that, but they know (especially Dante) he has a life and bounds that ties him to the human world. That punch is about making it easy for Nero to let them go.

The last two pictures don't need much explanation. It's again about Dante doing what he thinks he should have done. He regrets letting Vergil go alone to the Underworld, so this time is him the first one to jump and making sure Vergil doesn't run off on his own this time. After all, they're meant to be together; in Visions of V it's reaffirmed. Both brothers stop fighting against it.

I probably didn't say everything I had planned, but this is a good summary. Sorry if there are mistakes, I wrote this from my cell phone and it seems that my autocorrect has a mind of its own.

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demigods-posts · 5 months

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How far does the prophecy from The Lightning Thief stretch across the Percy Jackson and The Olympians series? Spoilers Ahead!

"You shall go west and face the god who has turned."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Percy, alongside his friends Annabeth and Grover, travels from New York to Los Angeles to retrieve his mother, Sally, from the underworld and confront the god who stole Zeus's lightning bolt.

2. In The Lightning Thief, Percy, Annabeth, and Grover discover Ares is in alliance with a revolt to free Kronos. Percy fights Ares and successfully secures Zeus's lightning bolt.

"You shall find what was stolen and see it safely returned."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Percy returns Zeus's lightning bolt. Conversely, Hades, who kidnapped Sally, returns her home.

2. In The Sea of Monsters, Polyphemus the Cyclops is stated to have stolen the Golden Fleece to improve the nature of his Island and lure Satyrs to their death. Conversely, Luke Castellan and his crew are stated to try and steal the Golden Fleece to quicken Kronos's resurrection.

3. In The Titan's Curse, Atlas holds Annabeth and Artemis hostage, and Percy, alongside his quest partners Grover, Thalia, Bianca, and Zoe, travels west and rescues them.

"You shall be betrayed by one who calls you friend."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Luke lures Percy into the woods, reveals he stole the lightning bolt and that he's working with Kronos to bring about the downfall of Olympus. In doing so, Luke, Percy's former friend, tries to hurt him and, inadvertently, sets Percy's story in motion.

2. In The Battle of the Labyrinth, Percy, Annabeth, Nico, and Rachel discover that Luke allows Kronos to use his body as a vessel to bring about the downfall of Olympus.

"And you shall fail to save what matters most in the end."

1. In The Lightning Thief, Percy fails to retrieve his mother from the underworld. Thus, his initial motivation for going on the quest remains unfulfilled.

2. In The Lightning Thief, Percy cannot convince Luke that bringing about the rise of Kronos is not an efficient way to dismantle a neglectful system between the Gods and demigods. This conversation is the catalyst for the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series.

3. In The Last Olympian, Percy hands Luke the knife. Luke stabs himself in his Achilles Spot, stopping Kronos from rising, and preserving Olympus. It took the death of a hero fallen from grace to dismantle a neglectful system. From the beginning, Luke was destined to be beyond saving.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo text post #pjo headcanon #pjo prophecies #the lightning thief prophecy #tlt prophecy stretches farther than we initially thought #farther than *i* initially thought #i only just now realized this after outlining a ten-part fanfic series #this shit is crazy

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evermore-grimoire · 10 months

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The Evermore Grimoire: Greek Mythology

Styx (Στυξ meaning "Hated") was the Titan goddess of the underworld River Styx in Greek mythology. She was the embodiment of hatred and detestation. This made her one of the most feard Titans. During the "Golden Age" of the Titans, Styx was the guardian of the Underworld. Before the war, she was married to her cousin Pallas (god of warcraft), son of Crius (god of heavenly constellations) and Eurybia (goddess of mastery of the sea). However, Pallas was killed during the war. Throughout most of the war, Styx remained neutral, like her parents and siblings, the River gods and Ocean nymphs. During the last battle of the Titan War, she chose to side with Zeus (king of the gods) and the Olympians, giving her four children, Bia (goddess of force), Cratus (god of power), Zelos (god of rivalry) and Nike (goddess of victory) in her service. To honour her, Zeus decreed that the solemn oaths of the gods be sworn by the water of Styx

artwork by Yliade

#MythEdit #MythologyEdit #FYeahMyths #Greek Mythology #FantasyEdit #Titan Goddess #Goddesses #My Edit

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tarjapearce · 9 months

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Iridiscent (Pt. 4)

Pirate AU! Miguel O'Hara x Mermaid! Reader

WARNING: Angst, mentions of violence, graphic depictions of violence, mild gore, political implications, character origins, character backgrounds, introduction of character, Greek mythology mentions.

Summary: The aftermath of a mermaid encounter brings an unexpected ally.

A/N: Pirate Miggy is back ❤️

Mermaids, sea witches, sirens, sea monsters. The latter was the most accurate name for what your mere existence rendered. And now, men eater.

Existing since way before humans understood the concept of civilizations, silent watchers of eons of evolution, yet unfortunate by the simple fact of being.

The permanence of the kin itself was a result of a fateful domino effect the God of the dead had unleashed by being invaded and bewitched by a mortal feeling. Love.

His whim had turned into obsession and this somehow morphed into love. A feeling so strong that made him kidnap the Spring goddess for himself, tired of the miserable companion solitude was in the underworld. And that was the moment everything changed.

The nymphs in charge of their queen's safety were turned into winged beings, as a punishment from none other than Demeter. Her wrath over them, ruthless and merciless as they were forced to look everywhere for their vanishing queen to no avail.

Some of the nymphs had escaped the aftermath to a recluse island, abandoning all purpose of finding Persephone, to follow the whims of their hearts in lieu. Singing and music.

But even so, Demeter's fury had no match, vengeful and blinded by anger she looked for the rebel ones to kill them, but these hid in the sea. Eventually, the feathers hardened, turning into scales. These etched and covered their legs. Securing them in a colorful long tail.

Bird's talons turned into beautiful and deadly hands, that once a prey was caught there was nothing it could do but to accept it's fate. Death.

Damned be Hades and his stupid obsession. Damned be Demeter and her blinding rage, and damned be the men that polluted the earth above with their existing and constant evolving.

Men. The real wretched creatures. The executioners of everything they decided unworthy of living. Stupid beings that played God in a self imposed role in life's hierarchy.

Creatures that had hunted and killed your kin for ages, forcing to separate and face new dangers at every turn in the endless ocean. Humans, a little too praising title considering their acts and actions were everything but, had forced you to hide in the deepest waters and forbidden lands not many were brave enough to venture in.

A couple of centuries were more than enough for you to have a glimpse of their nature. Destructive, dangerous and merciless. They sullied and tarnished everything unfortunate enough to go under their hands.

They killed everything unknown or deemed too frightening for their existence and had no mercy while at it. The bloodier the better. A disgusting yet necessary example of behavior you had to follow in order to survive.

Humans had shaped your temper. Heart rejoicing at every sunken ship the sea swallowed. Even their flesh had lost the sizzle to be enjoyable enough, making your feeding habits more inclined towards other creatures within the sea.

You didn't eat men because you hated them. You ate them because their hatred had poisoned enough the seas, leaving you without resources, pushing you to consume them. And your refusal had made your body weak, it had been years since your body felt properly satisfied.

You collapsed.

How many days had passed, certainly was unknown. Time under the sea was measured by how long it took for a reef to go completely white, how often the ships let their nets in a single spot. Sometimes you remained on land, sea too dangerous to venture alone.

But none of that mattered anymore. Inanition wasn't exclusive of humans, the last thing in your mind was to curse Hades and the men.

But death escaped and picked you and others alike within a net. Pushing some survival instinct back in you as the net wriggled and broke. Injecting the right amount of life to hand you a buffet in a wooden platter. Gathering your bearings after the little commotion in your head, was quickly overlooked when the attention focused on the scene unfolding.

A ship full of men, that stared in wonder and fear. One of them stood out from the rest. It reminded you of Hercules. His physique unique, just as his eyes. A fine specimen and surely a delicious one. Their language was unknown, but it became clear the moment you kissed the fool before your apparent naive form. Absorbing his knowledge and a little more in that simple gesture. Which was little.

But enough to understand what the men said and whispered around you.

Foul and salty smelling, with a faint tinge of wine. He tasted sour and ashy, but edible enough to sate your rampant huger. You wanted to go for the herculean man in shackles, his scent rich in leather, voice like a soft and firm caress in the back of one's head. His cinnamon toned skin made your mouth water.

You were about to move for him, but Elliot, the idiot infront and your hunger kept you in place. You knew your initial prey would fight and would waste the little reserve of strength you had left. He was no fool.

As moronic as the man on your way was, he'd save his purpose. The prey was subdued, flesh and bones devoured; bland and tasteless, but well welcomed within your body. Revitalizing energies and restocking the strength you had been lacking for a time.

Expected as it was, they attacked, all by the command of the shackled man, that had dared to injure you with a bullet. But you were too frenzied and hungry to care. Your meal hung in your maws, as you fought to get it off the ship.

Your Hercules watched in horror from afar, and never in your life had you felt more realized and satisfied to provoke such disturbing reaction in a man.

You could almost taste the fear behind his raged and shaky breathing, his shock in every powerful beat his heart did, the denial in his eyes as they widened the more your teeth sank into the corpse. It fueled you. And also ignited with new strength the already flickering purpose of your existence.

Destroy as many of them as possible.

You went under the ship, away from their archaical defense to eat and consume your food. Humans weren't definitely on the top, for a moment the hunter became the prey and didn't survive to brag about his new kill.

Skin and flesh was torn, consumed with such hunger it had you full and completely sated like never before, within matter of minutes. Elliot Jackdaw no longer existed, but served as a reminder that your kin prevailed and endured.

But also, had unleashed a new domino effect you weren't aware of.

The man in shackles, your forsaken greek god, was thrown at the sea. Your territory. You saw him move, fight against the current; trying to free himself from the heavy cuffs that weighed him down and reach back to the ship. And then nothing.

He became still and it made you frown. Where that bravado had gone? The smirk that was about to emerge in your lips faded as soon as a red cloud oozed and swallowed his head.

His scent was too rich and alluring, stagnant almost. Sickly sweet for your senses and he wasn't moving.

If you recalled, he was called a captain. What was a captain doing out of his ship drowning in the sea? Your lip twitched in scowl.

The lack of loyalty among his kindred was another reason to hate them. He wasn't the first nor the last you had saved in these conditions. Mostly women or little children that were expelled without much reasons other than being a burden.

As much as you cursed your heart for not turning its back to these sort of injustices, and your need to have a tiny taste of him, you hauled him up shore. Light as a feather in water, but heavy as lead on land. The heavy iron around his wrist didn't help, so you destroyed it, inflicting little cuts around his flesh in the process.

Ancient eyes scrutinized his form. Sharp cheekbones that could only match a sword. Strong features that screamed fighter in every direction you looked. A jagged and nasty cut on a side of his head, some strands obscuring his face, you removed them and some bloodied debris from his wound, inspecting it.

Not a too deep cut, the contusion of his head against the moving ship had been rough. A single cut in the upper right cheekbone, clothes clung to him like a second skin. His pockets however were too tempting to be left alone.

Sand and water on them, along a shiny pearl that had you staring and sniffing at the trinket for a close inspection, that didn't pay attention to the locket nesting deeper inside. The pearl was true, so you took it as it quickly etched to your skin, under the ribcage as a decor motif of the raggy top you used to cover your chest.

He'd surely serve as one of Aphrodite's lovers. His forearms laced in tiny and fading scars, that also loitered his solid and somewhat hairy chest. A man through and through. A natural enemy of yours, yet you had saved him.

Probably, he would hunt you too, like the scarce quantity of men you had pulled out of danger. The pearl was a token for saving his life.

You could kill him, filling your tabs with another number, but it wouldn't be honorable. Even if you were a different species, you refused to let some of their habits to rub on you. You opposed greatly to be like them, and so with a look that would suppose to be a final one back at him, you dipped back into the sea.

----

He was on land. Alive, heart beating along every single erratic breath. The sea waves washed over his hips, not cold neither lukewarm. Just the ideal temperature for the humid weather

I'm alive.

His mind couldn't comprehend what had happened. One moment he was in the sea, to then hurl himself back up and puke all the salty water his body had unwillingly ingested.

Miguel was dizzy, but alive. Beaten up, but still breathing. Pissed and ever ready to get his treasure back. But he had to recover some energies first.

Sighing and rising slowly, he turned around to kneel in the moist sand. Tiny grains of it etched to his moist skin, they were rough, altering his sensorial touch for a second. Feet finally got the strength to stand up, careful to not let the nauseas get to his head entirely. Skin burned, but he could bear the discomfort, what Miguel truly needed was a big gulp of water.

He remembered the sun being high on the sky, blazing with all it's glory and witnessing his crew marooning him for good. And now it was night. Somehow thankful that he didn't have to deal with the weather's inclemencies. Step by wobbly step he approached to the thickets and palms rooted in the soil, dressing up modestly the land he walked on.

As another wave of nauseas hit while his head pounded, Miguel stopped to rest in a nearby palm. Calloused hand cupping and covering his mouth to prevent the bile and vomit to spill out once more. Dehydrated as he was, Miguel also understood the dangers of drinking too much salty water.

If dehydration didn't kill him, puking too much without having any other resources on reach would. But none of his survival could be done with the unbridled headache that hammered in his head. A side of it was caked in dry blood, like some strands of his already matted and full of sand hair.

With careful steps he ventured in deeper into the jungle, looking for a spot to spent the night away from land's troubles. The island wasn't familiar for him, he didn't even know if it was big enough to harbor sustainable life, or if ships would pass nearby. With a gasp and a frantic move, he palmed his pockets.

Mierda, no! No

Panic rose upon not feeling the pearl, the sudden motion made his steps stutter as he puked, unable to hold it in anymore. But once he was done and wiped his mouth with the back of his arm, he searched into them.

Por favor

The pearl was gone, that was for sure, but relief washed over him upon feeling the fine golden chain of the locket. Hand clasped on it while he brought it to his chest and sighed.

He nearly gave up.

Heart pounding in his ears along his head, and only when he opened the locket, the tears flowed. Calloused fingers full of sandy grains probed the valuable mineral, feeling the dents of the shell shape he knew by heart at this point. Eyes drowning and his voice muffled into a silent and wrathful sob as he inhaled the trinket.

Perdóname, Gabi. (Forgive me)

A faint tickle of fresh home bread, coconut oil that he used to fry the fish, and the eucalyptus ointment that was always next to him brought back the bittersweet memories that flooded his mind about the last years he had with Gabriella. She adored when he cooked, and always smelled his fingers after using the oil.

It reminds me of you, Papa.

She loved freshly baked bread. But hated the smell of the eucalyptus ointment the doctor left her.

The only memento he now had of his beloved and long gone daughter. The only thing that mattered the most for him.

How dared them betraying him when he had been everything but fair and good?

How dared them into taking his ship and some important things he had hid inside? But most importantly, how dared life to show him that mermaids were real when the reason he believed in them in the first place was no longer with him?

Who was he supposed to tell that he saw a mermaid?

A karma for turning into a pirate, maybe. All his mind was able to remember was the way the creature looked at him, a clear assessment of her power. Fear invaded every fiber of his being, making him too stunned to actually think or act until he saw the creature devouring Elliot.

Another reason for him to respect the sea. Now that he had a glimpse of what laid underneath, Miguel wondered what other things crawled in it's depths. But he would think about it all tomorrow.

His eyes drooped in exhaustion. Thinking consumed the last bit of his energy reserves. Despite the thirst clawing at his throat with a vice grip, the headache and weariness were greater. Even though a thicket wasn't the right choice to spend the night, he hadn't the time nor the energies to be picky. He just collapsed once more and hoped whoever above to live another day.

----

The sunlight was slippery enough to leak through the dense foliage and reach patches of the humid and moss textured land, as well parts of his weathered face. With a wince he rolled to his side, avoiding the aurifeous and warm touch from the ever blazing sun. Head clear from it's pain, and thoughts in order, like it should be.

With a sigh he rose and stretched, popping joints back in their place. Discomfort remaining in his head and wrists, that upon further examination he deducted the cuts in them were fresh, and undoubtedly someone had saved him from a certain death. Who, he didn't know but was grateful for the mysterious savior to let his revenge start.

With a rested yet hungry body, and a fresh head to think, he rolled his shoulders back and took a look around. Surveying his environment to decide which way to go. No weapons, no resources but packed with skills that were honed precisely for these sort of situations.

He still remembered the first time Mundaca had left him in an island with a single knife to fend for himself, since Miguel refused to accompany him in a slave hunting trip. At first he thought that Mundaca had left him for good or out of spite, but Fermín had only taught him a valuable surviving lesson. This time however, he didn't have that knife and would rely only on his hands, brain and brawns.

Naturally, Miguel headed for the north, palm trees left behind, instead acai palms, rubber trees and soursops begun gathering in the place. The scent of wet soil and rotting wood was pungent in the air, oddly, he liked it. Macaws and other birds cackled and cawed as he pushed deeper along some distant rustling.

The overgrown roots twisted and tangled here and there, weaving a walkable path free of them to his right, His eyes darted to the tail of a cobra slithering away from him, minding it's business.

The copious squaking of the birds was a good white noise along the crunching of his wet boots. His throat was beyond arid, that even spit couldn't form in it if he wished; stomach rumbled violently, begging him for some food. Breathings paused but deep.

Hours stretched for what seemed forever, he didn't know if he was walking in circles, the island was definitely not small. He had found some fruit trees along the way, but the things were so our of reach, that attempting to climb for them was a risk. He'd knew the wait would worth it.

Ears however perked at the gunshot given in the distance. Eyes widened, both in surprise and excitement at the thought that civilization was within. Cause that meant, food and water. And also weapons. And what a better way to confirm it than a booming gunshot that spooked away the nearby fawn.

With careful steps, he followed the echo, making the least of noise possible. As much as it thrilled to have a bite, he also understood the implications of such things. Armored men, guarded bodegas, overpowered foremen and probably slaves.

Time flew by, but his spirits lifted upon spotting the first red uniforms in a distance. Two of them. He approached closer to take a better look.

The soldiers had a rifle each, a belt full of ammo and firing at what were now dead slaves as shooting dummies. To his right, Miguel saw a few tents and supplies. Food and water tossed in a nearby bench, a fire was alight, serving as a cooking source for the pot placed above. His eyes however fell upon a machete. Probably belonging to one of the dead men tied up in the wooden posts.

After all, working tools had to be in perfect conditions, leaving no room for slacking off.

Miguel forayed slowly, moving within the foliage until he reached for the machete, with paced breathings he awaited for another shot to rumble to pull the weapon within his reach. The metallic drag was drowned. He couldn't eat until the men were disposed off.

Now that he was armored, a distraction was needed. The branches used for the iron's pot makeshift support were weak, the stew inside boiled. Miguel pushed the tip of the machete on the pot's edge, a little clink connected as the pot was pushed forward, but it barely tumbled it. He awaited for another gunshot to echo to push the pot entirely on the ground.

The lard immediately sent sparks on the floor as smoke surrounded the area. The noisy thud of the pot alarmed one of the guards that didn't waste time into blaming his companion for the shitty structure and how they'd have to go fishing again to get food done.

A little too late the guard noticed the fiery red eyes that glowered at him. Before he could even say something the sharp blade of the machete sliced through this throat in a firm thrust, all the guard could do was a gurgle, perturbed, before plummeting on the floor, staining the blade with a warm crimson as Miguel pulled it out of the body. Flesh sizzling at the contact of the hot coals and wood.

He took a rock that filled in his palm and aimed it for the head of the remaining guard, the other soldier yelped as he fell on the ground, the rock hitting his head with a lurid crack. Miguel lurched for him to end his misery by impaling the weapon in his back. Right in the middle. It was quick, deathly and effective.

Miguel panted but waited in case another guard was around, but none approached, just the wing flapping of a macaw somewhere. With the machete in hand he approached to the tent and wasted no time in gobbling down the water in a container, quenching his thirst, not really caring for the droplets that rolled down his neck.

His hands then wiped his face as he scrubbed the caked blood and sand away, then scarfed down the leftovers left in a plate and devoured anything within reach that was cooked or preserved, Adia probably would scold him for eating like an animal, despite being starving.

Once he was satisfied and his strength back, he looked for other weapons he could use. As much as the machete proved a worthy aid, it was long and it made noise. The opposite of what he needed.

The Red Eyed Demon searched into the soldier's pockets, a couple of coins, bullets and gold teeth that seemed freshly pulled out of the bodies in the back. He took the bullets and left the rest, he also found a short ranged pistol, a combat knife and a rope.

Also, to his luck, some fresh clothes. As much as he was set into his vengeance he wouldn't waste the chance into being comfortable while at it. His boots were soiled full of sand and saline water, he changed them, like his pants. The shirt was the only thing he kept since none of the men actually wore his size.

Ridiculous as it was, one of the soldiers had abnormally larger feet. But were perfect for him. Pants still a bit too short but he'd had them any other day instead of walking around feeling uncomfortable and itchy by the salt etched to his skin and clothes.

He ventured deeper only to find a familiar scene before him. A state. Hacienda Valverde read in the overly embellished metal structure that held the sign.

----

So far, Miguel had done a good job in keeping himself hid, the least of attention he attracted, the more successful his escape plan would be. So far he had counted around fifteen soldiers in the property. Five of them scattered through the plantations, making sure the workforce didn't dally in their duties.

He ventured over the trees, avoiding unnecessary trouble, to then land nearly quietly in a mountain of hay. His breathings stopped at every time an unsuspected guard passed by him. Heart pounded in his ears when his steps brought him closer and closer to danger

The rest of the guards were scattered through the property, watching over the stables, the main storage room, inside the hacienda and of course, watching over the supply.

He had snuck in the warehouse, to his surprise the cells were empty, he went through each of them to see if anything worthy had been left behind, but the sound of the lock being picked made him hide behind a couple of haystacks.

"Stop, Stop!" A groan came from a wriggling man, "I told you the truth! Let me go!"

Miguel couldn't see who was the prisoner, peeking out would be too risky, but the lack of accent, gave him a hint. An American.

The man grunted as he kicked, managed to land a punch or two to the guards that only twisted his shackled hands backwards. This made the man whine and curse, blind hot pain shot in his ribcage as another soldier hit him with the base of his rifle.

"Shut your fucking gob!" With a rough shove, the fighting man was thrown into the cell, the enclosure's door stilled with a loud creak as the main door was slammed shut.

The only noises the pirate could hear was the pained grunts that only increased when the prisoner tried to pick himself up from the floor, and the shaky huffing that turned into whiny whimpers when he managed to recover some air.

The day was set to surprise him, cause in his life he had seen a white man being thrown in a slave cell. Until now.

The man was tall, lean muscle in his body, a five o'clock stubble in his narrow cheeks and blue eyes. Hair hapzardly peeking ontop of his head.

"Fuck..." He groaned but recoiled in his cell even further upon seeing the shade of red glinting at him behind the haystacks. Pain screamed in every breathing he did, but that didn't stop him from trying to get himself free.

"H-Hey"

The man's eyes widened as soon as Miguel came into full view. He had to crane his head upwards to meet his eyes and gulped as soon as he realized the color in the behemoth of a man. Breaths shallow but less erratic than before now that he knew he had company.

"Please. Help me out of here, pal"

He was definitely American.

"And why would I do that?"

Miguel’s bushy brow quirked while taking another look through the warehouse, searching for alternative escape routes.

"Cause my wife just gave birth and I wanna meet my little girl."

A red stare seized the blue one. His unwavering, but the man's rivalled against it. Miguel broke contact as his hands fisted briefly. The prisoner's chest heaved whole he rubbed the area he was hit on.

Lucky bastard

"I was supposed to arrive last week but I was taken from the ship."

"Why?"

Miguel looked through the haystacks and other corners he didn't have the chance to search thoroughly.

"That's what I'd like to know!" The man sat against the lateral bars and winced defeated, watching at the moving man.

"I was a merchant, on a trip to improve a little familiar business I have, but Nueva York isn't precisely friendly with the working class." He paused to take some air the hit had taken away, "So I came back. And that's where the english trapped me." His forehead rested ontop of his scrapped and bloodied knuckles. The spark that gave him a beating and his imprisonment.

"The English are press ganging civilians at sea."

Miguel's lip twitched in a scowl upon hearing the news. Of course they would, Americans and English were too deep in political wars that could barely stand eachother. But in the sea, the English were the masters and none was there to stop them. More like he wasn't there to sink as many of them as possible.

Yet.

"How old is your daughter?"

The pirate asked above his shoulder and this made the gaoler to look up.

"Three weeks old. According to my wife's last letter."

Miguel's shoulder slumped, and he turned to look at the man. A little hesitation passed over his eyes, but it vanished as soon as he saw an old acquaintance of him. Hope. Red eyes rolled annoyed, as if regretting the sudden decision he was about to make.

"Do you know how to use a weapon?"

The question surely threw the man off, but still managed to reply

"Y-Yeah. Not fond of them, but yeah."

"Fight?"

"Not a complete useless if that's what you're hinting at."

Miguel chuckled and approached closer to the cell, examining the lock while the detainee put on his pair of boots.

"Gimme a wire and I'll get myself out of here."

Miguel instead took a nearby shovel to destroy the lock in a couple of hits. The metal piece clanking on the floor as it fell.

"O-Or you could do that. Yeah."

The man stood on his feet and stretched before offering his hand to him, Miguel just stared at him for a moment before taking his hand in a firm shake. Peter hid a wince at the sheer display of strength and that he had grabbed his injured hand.

"Peter B. Parker. Merchant and lock master."

"Miguel O'Hara. Pirate."

Peter could only blink stupidly at him.

"Let's go."

But followed him without much thought.

-----

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