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Percy Jackson Hades Self Insert

Hades' Cursed Luna

In a world where Lycans and werewolves are sworn enemies, Eve Valmont is a werewolf cursed by a prophecy and framed. Betrayed by her own pack and imprisoned for years, her fate takes a darker twist when she is offered to the Lycan King, Hades Stavros—a ruler feared for his ruthless conquests and deadly prowess. Bound by an ancient prophecy and haunted by the ghosts of her past, Eve is now at the mercy of the one being she should hate and fear the most—The Hand of Death himself. Hades, a king carved from blood and his own soul's decay, determined to avenge his family's slaughter and rid his people of the werewolves. He believes Eve is the key to his victory. To him, she is nothing but weapon foretold by prophecy, a tool he will wield to destroy the opposing forces threatening his pack. Yet, he finds himself craving this powerful yet broken woman. Leaving him questioning if she is truly his weapon or the one destined to unravel his carefully laid plans. *** He stalked toward me, a predator closing in on its prey, his eyes dark and unreadable. "So, you laugh?" His voice was low, dangerously soft, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of how difficult it had become to breathe. "Hades, I—" "But you only laugh at other men's jokes," he interrupted, his gaze piercing, devoid of any humor. "Not your husband's." The accusation in his tone was sharp, slicing through the air between us. A nervous chuckle escaped me. "You can't be serious... He’s your beta, for Goddess’ sake." In an instant, he closed the distance between us, so fast it left me breathless. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me flush against his body, the heat of him making my skin tingle. I gasped, but before I could say a word, his lips crashed onto mine, claiming my mouth with a force that sent shockwaves through me. The kiss was punishing, hungry—I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. When he finally pulled back, I was trembling, my chest heaving as I struggled to regain my breath. His eyes, dark and stormy, searched mine with a possessive intensity. "You can’t laugh at my jokes..." he whispered, his voice a dangerous rasp as his fingers trailed lower, sending a shiver down my spine, "but you’ll come with my fingers." I shivered, heat pooling low in my belly at his words, his touch. The world around us blurred, fading into nothing as his hand slipped lower, drawing a ragged gasp from my lips. The look in his eyes told me he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and there was no denying the primal connection between us in that moment. "I don’t need your laughter," he murmured against my skin, his breath hot on my neck. "I’ll have every other part of you instead." **** Dark fantasy romance Morally Grey ML Angst Suspense ENEMIES to lovers Smut (like sprinkles on your ice cream)
Lilac_Everglade · 1.9M Views

Hades' verfluchte Luna

In einer Welt, in der Lykaner und Werwölfe eingeschworene Feinde sind, ist Eve Valmont ein Werwolf, der durch eine Prophezeiung verflucht und reingelegt wurde. Von ihrem eigenen Rudel verraten und jahrelang gefangen gehalten, nimmt ihr Schicksal eine noch dunklere Wendung, als sie dem Lykanerkönig Hades Stavros angeboten wird - einem Herrscher, der für seine rücksichtslosen Eroberungen und tödlichen Fähigkeiten gefürchtet ist. Gebunden durch eine uralte Prophezeiung und verfolgt von den Geistern ihrer Vergangenheit, ist Eve nun der Gnade desjenigen Wesens ausgeliefert, das sie am meisten hassen und fürchten sollte - der Hand des Todes selbst. Hades, ein König, der aus Blut und dem Verfall seiner eigenen Seele geschnitzt ist, ist entschlossen, das Gemetzel an seiner Familie zu rächen und sein Volk von den Werwölfen zu befreien. Er glaubt, dass Eve der Schlüssel zu seinem Sieg ist. Für ihn ist sie nichts weiter als eine von der Prophezeiung vorhergesagte Waffe, ein Werkzeug, mit dem er die gegnerischen Kräfte, die sein Rudel bedrohen, vernichten wird. Und doch ertappt er sich dabei, dass er sich nach dieser mächtigen, aber gebrochenen Frau sehnt. Er fragt sich, ob sie wirklich seine Waffe ist oder diejenige, die dazu bestimmt ist, seine sorgfältig ausgearbeiteten Pläne zu durchkreuzen. *** Er pirschte sich an mich heran, wie ein Raubtier, das sich seiner Beute nähert, seine Augen dunkel und unleserlich. "Du lachst also?" Seine Stimme war leise, gefährlich sanft, so dass sich die Haare in meinem Nacken aufstellten. Ich schluckte schwer und merkte plötzlich, wie schwer es mir fiel, zu atmen. "Hades, ich..." "Aber du lachst doch nur über die Witze anderer Männer", unterbrach er mich, sein Blick war durchdringend und frei von jeglichem Humor. "Nicht über die deines Mannes." Die Anschuldigung in seinem Tonfall war scharf und zerschnitt die Luft zwischen uns. Ein nervöses Glucksen entwich mir. "Das kann nicht dein Ernst sein... Er ist dein Beta, um Himmels willen." In einem Augenblick schloss er den Abstand zwischen uns, so schnell, dass mir der Atem stockte. Seine Hände umfassten meine Taille, zogen mich an seinen Körper, und seine Hitze ließ meine Haut kribbeln. Ich keuchte, doch bevor ich ein Wort sagen konnte, stürzten sich seine Lippen auf meine und beanspruchten meinen Mund mit einer Kraft, die Schockwellen durch mich sandte. Der Kuss war strafend, hungrig - ich konnte nicht atmen, konnte nicht denken. Als er sich schließlich zurückzog, zitterte ich, und mein Brustkorb hob sich, als ich darum rang, wieder zu Atem zu kommen. Seine Augen, dunkel und stürmisch, suchten meine mit einer besitzergreifenden Intensität. "Du kannst nicht über meine Witze lachen...", flüsterte er, seine Stimme war gefährlich rau, während seine Finger tiefer wanderten und mir einen Schauer über den Rücken jagten, "aber du wirst mit meinen Fingern kommen." Ich erschauderte, und in meinem Bauch sammelte sich Hitze bei seinen Worten, seiner Berührung. Die Welt um uns herum verschwamm, löste sich in Nichts auf, als seine Hand tiefer glitt und mir ein unkontrolliertes Keuchen entlockte. Der Blick in seinen Augen verriet mir, dass er genau wusste, was er mit mir tat, und die ursprüngliche Verbindung zwischen uns war in diesem Moment nicht zu leugnen. "Ich brauche dein Lachen nicht", murmelte er gegen meine Haut, sein Atem heiß an meinem Hals. "Ich will stattdessen jeden anderen Teil von dir haben." **** Dunkle Fantasy-Romantik Moralisches Grau ML Angst Spannung Von Feinden zu Liebenden Smut (wie Streusel auf deinem Eis)
Lilac_Everglade · 278.4K Views

self-references engine

PROLOGUE: WRITING A SET OF all possible character strings. All possible books would be contained in that. Most unfortunately though, there is no guarantee whatsoever you would be able to find within it the book you were hoping for. It could be you might find a string of characters saying, “This is the book you were hoping for.” Like right here, now. But of course, that is not the book you were hoping for. I haven’t seen her since then. I think she’s most likely dead. After all, it has been hundreds of years. But then again, I also think this. Noticing her as she gazes intently into the mirror, the room in disarray; it is clear that centuries have flowed by, or some such. And she, perhaps, has finished applying her makeup, and she is getting up and is going out to look for me. Her eyes show no sign of taking in the fact that the house has been completely changed, destroyed around her. The change was gradual, continuing, and even long ago she was not very good at things like that. As far as she is concerned, that is not the sort of thing one has to pay attention to. Not that she is aware, but it seems so obvious, she doesn’t need to care about it. Have we drowned, are we about to drown, are we already finished drowning, are we not yet drowning? We are in one of those situations. Ofcourse, it could be that we will never drown. But think about it. I mean, even fish can drown. I remember her saying meanly, “If that’s the case, you must be the one from the past.” It is true of course. Everybody comes out of the past; it’s not that I’m some guy who comes from some particular past. Even when that is pointed out, though, she shows no sign of backing down. “It’s not as if I came out of some bizarro past,” she said. That’s how she and I met. Writing it down this way, it doesn’t seem like anything at all is about to happen, right? Between her and me, I mean. As if something could ever really happen. As if something continues to happen that might ever make something else happen. I am repeating myself, but I haven’t seen her since then. She promised me, with a sweet smile, that I would never see her again. For the short time we were together, we tried to talk about things that really meant something to us. Around that time there were a lot of things that were all mixed up, and it was not easy to sort out what was really real. There might be a pebble over there, and when you took your eyes off it it turned into a frog, and when you took your eyes off it again it turned into a horsefly. The horsefly that used to be a frog remembered it used to be a frog and stuck out its tongue to try to eat a fly, and then remembered it used to be a pebble and stopped and crashed to the ground. With all this going on, it’s really important to know what’s really real and what’s not. “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived a boy and a girl.” “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived boys and girls.” “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived no boy and no girl.” “Once upon a time…lived.” “Lived.” “Once upon a time.” From beginning to end, we carried on this back-and-forth process. For example, in this dialogue, we were somehow finally mutually able to comeup with this kind of compromise statement: “Once upon a time, somewhere, there lived a boy and a girl. There may have been lots of boys, and there may have been lots of girls. There may have been no boys at all, and there may have been no girls at all. There may even have been no one at all. At any rate there is little chance there were equal numbers of each. That is unless there had never been anybody at all anyway.” That was our first meeting, she and I, and of course it meant we would never see each other again. I was making my way in the direction she had come from, and she was headed in the direction I had come from, and this is a somewhat important point; you must realize this walking had to be,
author_3 · 3.5K Views
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