Freya | Danmachi Is It Wrong To Try To Pick Up Girls In A Dungeon - Wallpapers

The air in Freya's divine chambers was thick with the scent of rose petals and something far more intoxicating—the subtle musk of desire. Moonlight, filtered through silken drapes, painted the room in hues of silver and shadow, illuminating the alabaster skin of Freya, goddess of beauty, love, and war. Her long, snow-white hair cascaded like a frozen waterfall over her shoulders, a stark contrast to the vibrant crimson of her eyes, which now held a smoldering intensity. Tonight, the usual distant, almost ethereal grace that defined her was replaced by a raw, yearning passion that pulsed within her. She had invited him, her beloved, the one mortal who had dared to capture the gaze of a goddess, to her sanctuary. Bell Cranel, her little rabbit, the one who had shown her a love so pure it had shattered her cynicism.

He stood before her, his innocent brown eyes wide with a mixture of awe and trepidation, yet also a nascent confidence that had blossomed under her devoted gaze. His simple adventurer's tunic seemed almost too mundane for the opulence surrounding him, but Freya saw only the raw, untamed spirit within. The Dungeon had honed him, shaped him, but it was *her* adoration that had truly awakened him. He was her masterpiece, her greatest treasure, and tonight, she intended to claim him fully, body and soul. The loneliness that had once been her constant companion had finally receded, replaced by a consuming need for connection, a yearning that only he could satisfy.

Freya extended a delicate hand, her fingers tipped with nails painted a deep ruby. "Come closer, Bell," she purred, her voice a silken caress that sent shivers down his spine. "Do not be afraid. Tonight, there are no gods or mortals, only two souls entwined by a love as fierce as any war god's fury." Her gaze never left his, and he felt himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame, his heart thrumming an erratic rhythm against his ribs. He remembered the first time he had truly *seen* her, not as the distant goddess of beauty, but as a woman consumed by a love so profound it could break her. And he, her little rabbit, had somehow become the focus of that divine affection.

He took a hesitant step forward, then another, until he was standing mere inches from her. The warmth radiating from her body was almost palpable, a fragrant aura of exotic flowers and something uniquely *Freya*. Her white hair brushed against his cheek as she tilted her head, her crimson eyes now blazing with an undisguised hunger. He could feel the tremor in his own hands, the sudden rush of blood to his face, a telltale sign of his burgeoning arousal. The air between them crackled with an unspoken promise, a tension that had been building for weeks, months, perhaps even longer, ever since he had truly recognized the depth of her feelings.

"You are so beautiful, Freya-sama," he breathed, the words escaping him before he could censor them. It was an understatement, he knew. She was beyond mere beauty; she was the embodiment of it, a living, breathing goddess whose very presence could inspire songs and legends. But tonight, it wasn't her divine aura that captivated him; it was the woman beneath, the vulnerability and desire that shone in her eyes. He wanted to explore every facet of her, to learn the secrets her immortal form held, to lose himself in her embrace.

A slow, seductive smile graced Freya's lips. She reached out, her cool fingers tracing the line of his jaw, then drifting down to the button of his tunic. "And you, my little rabbit, are even more beautiful to me than any star in the heavens. You have a purity, a warmth, that no mortal or immortal can replicate. You are my obsession, my one true desire." Her touch was feather-light, yet it ignited a fire within him, a yearning that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, the intoxicating confirmation of her love, her need.

With a gentle tug, the button gave way, revealing the smooth skin of his chest. Freya's gaze lingered there for a moment, a silent appreciation for the mortal form that held her heart captive. She then moved lower, her fingers expertly undoing the remaining fastenings, her movements deliberate and unhurried, each touch a prelude to the symphony of passion they were about to compose. Bell stood still, his breath catching in his throat, his entire being focused on the exquisite sensations her exploration brought. He could feel the tremor of her fingers against his skin, the subtle brush of her breath against his chest as she leaned closer. This was more than just physical; it was an intimacy that transcended the mundane, a shared vulnerability that bound them together.

When his tunic finally fell open, Freya’s eyes widened, a gasp escaping her lips. His chest was lean and strong, marked by the trials of the Dungeon, but it was the undeniable evidence of his arousal that truly captivated her. His erection strained against the fabric of his breeches, a testament to his own desire for her, a mirror of the burning need within her own divine body. She knelt before him, her white hair fanning out around her like a celestial halo, her crimson eyes fixed on his now throbbing manhood. The air grew heavy with anticipation, the silence broken only by their shallow breaths and the frantic beating of their hearts.

"Oh, my dearest Bell," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion. She reached out, her fingers trembling slightly, and gently cupped his hardness through the roughspun material. It was a gesture of reverence, of pure, unadulterated adoration. She could feel the power within him, the vibrant life force that pulsed and yearned for release. He was so young, so pure, yet capable of such potent desire. He was everything she had ever dreamed of, and more.

Bell shuddered, a low groan escaping his lips as her touch ignited a wildfire within him. He instinctively reached down, his hands finding her soft, silken hair, his fingers tangling in the cool strands. "Freya-sama..." he managed, his voice thick with a pleasure that was almost overwhelming. He wanted to feel her skin against his, to taste her, to know her completely. He was a novice in the ways of love, but his heart was full, and his desire was pure, a potent combination that even a goddess could not resist.

Freya looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a dangerous delight. She had always been a goddess of war, of conquest, but with him, she was a goddess of love, of pure, consuming passion. She rose slowly, her movements fluid and graceful, and with a decisive yet tender gesture, she pulled him closer. Her lips, the color of ripe cherries, met his in a kiss that was both gentle and demanding. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, of a longing that had festered for too long, of a love that was as fierce as it was beautiful. Bell responded with all the passion his young heart could muster, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her flush against him.

Her body was impossibly soft, yielding beneath his touch, yet there was a subtle strength in her embrace that grounded him. He could feel the delicate curve of her waist, the gentle swell of her breasts pressing against his chest. He tasted the sweetness of her lips, a flavor that was both familiar and intoxicatingly new. Freya deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth with a confident, masterful grace, teaching him, guiding him. He was a willing student, eager to learn, eager to please, eager to be consumed by her.

As the kiss intensified, Freya’s hands moved to the waistband of his breeches. With a practiced ease, she slipped her fingers beneath the fabric, her touch sending waves of pleasure through him. He gasped, his body arching instinctively into her touch. Her fingers found his hardening cock, and a triumphant sigh escaped her lips. She began to stroke him, her touch both tender and firm, her thumb teasing the sensitive tip. Bell groaned, his knuckles turning white as he clung to her, his senses reeling from the sheer intensity of the moment. He had never imagined such exquisite pleasure was possible, not even in his wildest dreams.

Freya pulled back slightly, her crimson eyes locking onto his. "You are so magnificent, my love," she whispered, her voice laced with a possessive tenderness. She slowly unfastened his breeches, her gaze never leaving his arousal. When the rough fabric finally fell away, revealing him fully, she let out a soft moan of pure, unadulterated admiration. He was perfect, a testament to his growing strength and the divine favor that blessed him. She traced the veins that stood out on his shaft, marveling at the life that pulsed within. Then, with a breath that was almost a prayer, she lowered her head.

Her lips, so soft and warm, met the head of his penis. Bell cried out, a raw, primal sound that echoed in the opulent chamber. He bucked his hips, desperate for more, but Freya held him gently, teasing him, drawing out the exquisite agony of pleasure. Her tongue lavished attention on him, swirling around his tip, coaxing forth a deeper yearning. He felt himself nearing the edge, a dizzying sensation of impending release that was both terrifying and exhilarating. Her white hair tickled his thighs, a strange, divine sensation that amplified his arousal.

He whimpered, "Freya-sama… please…" His voice was a desperate plea, and Freya, ever attentive to his desires, granted him what he craved. She took him into her mouth, her lips parting, her tongue coiling around him, drawing him deeper and deeper. Bell gasped, his body convulsing as the first wave of pleasure washed over him. He clutched her hair, his fingers buried in the silken strands as he surrendered to the overwhelming ecstasy. Freya continued to suckle, her movements expertly timed, her tongue teasing and caressing, bringing him closer and closer to the precipice.

He felt it building, an irresistible tide of pleasure that threatened to shatter him. With a final, guttural cry, Bell Craneel came, spilling his seed deep into the mouth of the goddess of beauty. Freya swallowed his essence greedily, her eyes closed in rapturous delight. She savored the taste of him, the culmination of their shared desire, a tangible representation of their love. As the last tremors subsided, she slowly withdrew, her lips slick with his fluid. She looked up at him, her crimson eyes shining with unshed tears of joy and fulfillment.

"You are mine," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Completely and utterly mine." Bell, still breathless and trembling, could only nod, his heart overflowing with a love that mirrored her own. He had never felt so utterly cherished, so completely desired. The shame and awkwardness he sometimes felt about his own desires melted away in the warmth of her adoration.

Freya then stood, her divine form now fully revealed to him. Her body was a masterpiece of celestial artistry, her skin as white as freshly fallen snow, her curves impossibly perfect. Her breasts, full and heavy, seemed to beckon him, their nipples hard and rosy. He gazed at her, his breath catching in his throat. He felt a renewed surge of desire, a yearning to explore her, to worship her with his own hands and mouth. She was the epitome of beauty, and he was a mortal who had been blessed beyond measure.

She reached out, her hand cupping his face, her thumb gently stroking his lower lip. "And now, my love," she purred, her voice laced with a promise of even greater delights, "it is my turn to be claimed by you." She guided him towards her silken bed, the moonlight illuminating the path ahead. As they lay down together, their bodies entwined, the air hummed with a palpable energy. Freya shifted, arching her back, presenting herself to him, her crimson eyes burning with a desire that mirrored his own. He looked at her, at the goddess who had chosen him, who loved him with a passion that could move mountains, and knew that he was home.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her creamy skin. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, then moved lower, his tongue tracing the delicate curve of her breasts. Freya sighed, her fingers tangling in his hair, her body arching into his touch. He teased her nipples, his mouth drawing them into hard, aching peaks, and Freya moaned, a sound that sent tremors of pleasure through him. He continued his worship, his tongue exploring every inch of her, tasting the sweetness of her skin, reveling in the divine essence that emanated from her.

When he finally reached her core, Freya gasped, her breath catching in her throat. Her pussy was wet and slick, ready for him. He looked at her, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and reverence. He wanted to be gentle, yet he was consumed by a primal need to know her, to possess her. Freya met his gaze, her eyes filled with an unspoken invitation. "Take me, Bell," she whispered, her voice husky with need. "Take me, and make me yours."

With a deep breath, he entered her. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced. Her pussy was warm and tight, a perfect fit, as if she had been made for him. He felt a divine connection, a merging of their souls as much as their bodies. Freya cried out, her nails digging into his back, her body convulsing around him. He began to move, slowly at first, then with increasing urgency, his thrusts deep and powerful. Freya matched his rhythm, her moans echoing through the chamber, her body alive with pleasure.

The moonlight bathed them in a soft glow as they moved together, a primal dance of love and passion. He felt himself getting lost in her, in the scent of her, in the taste of her, in the exquisite sensations that coursed through them both. He saw the flush on her cheeks, the dilated pupils of her crimson eyes, the way her body quivered with each thrust. He was her god, her master, her lover, and she was his goddess, his love, his everything.

Freya's breath came in ragged gasps, her body arching higher with each thrust. "Bell… oh, Bell… you are… so good…" she panted, her voice strained with pleasure. He felt himself nearing his own climax, a searing intensity building within him. He thrust deeper, harder, and Freya’s cries grew louder, more desperate. He felt her body tense, her toes curl, and he knew she was close.

With a final, powerful surge, he pushed deep inside her, feeling her tighten around him, her climax erupting in a tidal wave of ecstasy. Freya cried out his name, her body convulsing around him as she came. He followed soon after, a torrent of his seed erupting into her, filling her with his love, his essence. He collapsed onto her, their bodies slick with sweat and their shared release. The silence that followed was filled with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the gentle beating of their hearts, a testament to the profound intimacy they had shared.

Freya held him close, her white hair tangled with his own. She kissed his forehead, her touch gentle and loving. "My precious Bell," she whispered, her voice soft and full of contentment. "You have given me more joy than I ever dreamed possible." Bell, still breathless, buried his face in her chest, inhaling her sweet scent. He had never felt so complete, so loved. He was no longer just a mortal adventurer; he was the beloved of a goddess, and in her arms, he had found a love that would endure for eternity.