#ambrosia is too only bc of her skin tone

[psychoticwillgraham]

ok I know I said that im done with bjd’s, but im gonna shell (make) my main oc’s in some. john is going to be the most difficult one tho….

[bjy-on-ao3]

(1/2) Heyy, thanks for your reply, and sorry it took me a while to put my request together but here it is: Reader is a shy naiad/nymph who often attends Dionysus' parties, one day he throws a party for Ares, perhaps post-victory celebration. Ares is still in war mode (when is he not lol) and his mood is affecting the other party-goers, so much so that it starts disrupting the party (fights breaking out and what not). Dio wants people to start having fun again so he coaxes reader into helping ares uhhhh 'destress', maybe makes her drink a little ambrosia/wine to loosen up(two birds one stone y'know, he gets reader out of their shell as well). Of course *Dio* joins in the 'festivities' too bc can't be letting ares have all the fun dkkd.

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

I’ve wanted to attempt this request for a while now, but I needed some study into certain parts of it I wasn’t familiar with. I hope y’all enjoy the fic nonetheless and my bits of inexperience in certain portions don’t show overmuch!

(Note: There is no Ares/Dionysus in this fic & this is featuring the characters from the Hades game, if that weren't clear already.)

Summary

During a post-war celebration, the God of War gets a bit out of control, making tempers run hot. With Ares’ bloodlust infecting the party and threatening to ruin it by becoming a brawl, Dionysus enlists Reader’s aid to help his brother wind down. Though he isn’t one to be left out of the fun either.

Tags/Warnings

Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal S*x, Biting, Blood, Creampie, Double Penetration, Drunk S*x, Hand Jobs, Nymph Reader, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Rough S*x, Shameless Smut, Slight Breathplay, Stomach Bulge, Threesome, Vaginal S*x, Voyeurism

Party Foul (Ares/F! Reader/Dionysus)

The sound of raised voices and angry snarls sent you fleeing from the area most folks had gathered to celebrate. Though it was a fete held by a local town in honor of some glorious conquest of war, the atmosphere had been light and jovial to start. However, it hadn’t been long until several of the Olympian gods deigned to grace the celebration with their presence, many with small groups of followers of their own. Mostly, the gods only added to the cheerful mood, the victorious soldiers feeling even more invigorated and honored by their presence. Yet the presence of one god stoked a fire in the blood of many present, whether soldier or laborer or homemaker. Already high on the chaos and strife from previous battles laid to rest, Ares, god of war, brought with him a mood that was electric and infectious. His revel in the bloodshed had boosted his mood, working him into something close to a frenzy. A frenzy that seeped out among the crowd, even after he had left the immediate area. It made them quibble and quarrel amongst one another, escalating until those unaffected began to cautiously distance themselves, lest they be caught up in an impromptu fistfight or worse. Arriving in tow with one of the attending gods, as was common among your fellow nymphs, you had been reluctant, but still secretly excited to enjoy the celebration. You were more than willing to enjoy the captivating atmosphere of good humor and greater cheer, even if you weren’t quite so unphased as your brethren. But as the mood of the hour had grown sour and bitter, voices raised, several men had started physical fights. You had quickly balked and ran. Your flight had taken you to one of the small surrounding buildings, breathing a deep sigh of relief once the angry voices and shouts faded to something far more faint. Stopping, listening for a time, you willed your stammering heart to slow, at least until the sound of sandals drew your attention. You cast a wary glance over your shoulder, ready to run again before recognizing the broad figure behind you. Turning to face the god whom you had accompanied to the party, you opened your mouth to speak, only for him to cut you off. “Ah, perfect timing!” Dionysus’ smooth voice boomed. “C’mere, babe, I could use a little help.” “I-What is it, my Lord?” you asked, thrown off by how laid back he sounded, despite the faint ruckus not far off. You hadn’t spoken to him too much personally, his attention often taken by those more willing to vie for it. “You’re having a good time, yeah? I mean, before all… that,” he trailed off with a lazy gesture of his hand, showing his distaste for the brutish behaviour that had stirred up. “Oh, yes! Before that, absolutely,” you answered, nodding. “Fantastic! What do you say to livening things up a little then?” You couldn’t hold back the furrow of your brow. “Ah, it seems like the city folk have taken it upon themselves to do just that already… Not that I mean to say no, my Lord!” you added quickly. Dionysus grimaced at the reminder of the ongoing brawl growing nearby. “That’s.. Not quite the mood I’m looking for. That’s why I need a little help to cool things down,” he continued, the sour look quickly swept away. “Follow me babe; I promise it’ll be a good time.” “Alright,” you agreed with another acknowledging nod, thinking you would rather be further away from the fighting anyhow. “Great, this way then,” Dionysus gestured once more, this time the gesture more welcoming, an insistence for you to follow him. You followed quietly, giving a few idle glances around the building as he led you through it, down a long hall and to a secluded room. It seemed to be some kind of lavishly decorated bedroom or lounge, littered with chaises and sturdy chairs. Several sconces peppered the wall, giving it a warm, golden glow and leaving nary a corner of the room cast into darkness. On several tables sat platters of breads and cheese, eggs, fruit, and even one of various meats, flanked with several chalices and vessels of what you assumed wine and other spirits. Dionysus stopped at the

door, giving you a gentle push into the room while he waited before the doorway. “Wait here for a minute, babe, I’ll be right back,” he assured you with a grin. Uncertain exactly what it was Dionysus required of you - given who you were dealing with, you had ideas, of course, but one could never be completely sure - you did as you were told. You settled yourself on the edge of one chaise, eyeing one of the more impressive looking vessels on the tables. You decided against having a taste from it, deeming it better to just wait until Dionysus returned. After a few minutes that dragged on, the sound of footsteps drew near once more - this time more than just one set, the additional footsteps heavier than the first. Dionysus reappeared in the doorway, stepping into the room, followed by another man who could only be another god, judging by the broad breadth of his shoulders and chest and the fearsome, bloody red eyes that fell on you. You recognized him instantly - the god of chaos and war was hard to forget, after all - and most you knew gave him a wide berth. It wasn’t so much that he was unpredictable that concerned most people, rather that his fondness for war and violence was exceptionally predictable. You suppressed the urge to rise from your seat and make some hasty excuse to retreat, not fond of the wild-eyed excitement painted on the new god’s face that seemed barely held under control, or the nearly tangible aura around him that made your skin prickle. Despite being dressed in less warlike attire than the armor he often wore and was well known for, Ares was still large and imposing. The addition of several blades remaining strapped or tied here and there did little to dull that impression. You looked to Dionysus, seeking distraction from Ares’ entrance, wondering what business he had that involved you and also required Ares. “What was it you needed my help for again, Lord Dionysus?” you piped up as you watched him coax Ares into reposing on another chaise some distance away. Walking back to you, Dionysus eyed you for a second, and then his eyes flickered back to his brother, who seemed a bit more mild, though still impatient and worked up. “You saw the scuffle outside, yeah, babe?” he asked easily, seeming hardly put off by Ares’ frightening aura. You nodded silently, feeling as if he wasn’t quite done speaking. “Old Ares over there got a bit overexcited, and it’s really killing the mood,” Dionysus complained, tone dipping slightly in annoyance at the idea of a ruined mood, heaving a small sigh. “He could stand to… wind down, if you catch my meaning.” You weren’t dull, and catch his meaning you did quickly, looking to Ares. “Oh,” you said quietly, feeling more apprehension rise. Ares was appealing enough, you couldn’t deny that, but he was also nearly as frightful. “What do you say, babe? Think you can convince him to relax?” As carefree as Dionysus sounded, he still seemed aware of your worry, too. “If you’re feelin’ nervous, I’ve got a little something that might just help you out.” He reached for one of the more ornate vessels on the table before pouring some of the liquid into a goblet. The liquid was a rich, royal purple, some kind of wine that seemed to smoke faintly, though the scent that wafted from it was heady and sweet. “I promised it’d be a good time, right? Just drink this and trust me, babe.” Fickle though most gods were, from your experience Dionysus was trustworthy enough for his words to be reassuring. The wine in the cup would no doubt deal away with any lingering uncertainties as well. You considered the cup for a moment more, giving a second half-nod and reaching to take it from Dionysus’ hold. You drained it quickly, far quicker than you might have under normal circumstances. Now was not the time to sip and recline. You needed whatever aid that wine might offer. For several passing, heavy moments, your nerves remained. But a warm, gentle buzz crept up, drowning your concerns out until they were naught but an indistinct drone in the back of your head. A warmth starting in your

cheeks spread down your neck and chest, leaving you suddenly less stiff, less concerned by Ares’ menace. The prospect of helping him ‘relax’, as Dionysus had so casually suggested, became less frightening by the second. As if he could tell how quickly his special wine had taken effect - you guessed it was more likely he knew how potent it was - Dionysus grinned. He extended a hand to help you to your feet, and you took it without a second thought. In the past, you had heard alcohol referred to as ‘liquid courage’, though you imagined that was regarding mortal drink. You didn’t think any mortal wine could have so put you at ease quite so speedily as what you had just drank. Yet, despite the potency of the alcohol, you were easily able to remain steady on your feet, even without Dionysus’ help. “Well, go on, babe,” Dionysus urged you nonchalantly. “Don’t want this party to go downhill anymore, do we?” With a gentle shake of your head, you released Dionysus’ hand, and swept past him, towards Ares from where he watched with vague interest. The warmth and confidence granted to you spread further, growing strong, whisking away the last tatters of your nerves and leaving a need to please behind. You noted that even though Ares showed some interest, he seemed restless, as if he would much rather be out among the ruckus he had unintentionally - you assumed - incited. “I’ve been told you're in need of some relaxation, my Lord,” you said in a tone you hoped was alluring. Ares scrutinized you for a silent moment from his seat, sipping something from a goblet of his own. Though the scent that drifted from his was far more potent and acrid. “Is that so?” Ares’ speech was much more calm and composed than you had expected, a striking contrast to the roiling expression in his eyes. His sharp gaze flicked to Dionysus where you had left him. He had settled onto another of the many chaises, indulging in his own drink already and looking as if he wasn’t paying you any further mind. “Very well,” Cutting red eyes turned back to you, and a shiver of anxiety you had thought drowned in wine shot through you. But you pushed the feeling away, calling on the courage bestowed on you by that same drink. “But first, off with those,” Ares demanded, gesturing with a nod of his head to your clothing. Quick to obey, your fingers flashed to your belt, undoing it and tossing it aside. Your fingers shook a little, yet you didn’t feel as if fear or worry were the cause now. Next came your tunic, pulled over your head as gracefully as you could manage, left to join your belt. At last, only your breast band remained, and you doubted it was exempt from Ares’ command. So if came off, too, leaving you stark nude in front of him. Were it not for the potency of the draught Dionysus had given you, you were sure your stripping would have been a clumsy mess, but even with your trembling touch, it had felt easy. “Now, come here, then,” the tone of Ares’ voice hardly changed, remaining thunderous and even, as if you had little effect on him. You moved until you were within reach, and Ares closed the rest of the distance between you, grabbing you by the wrist and thigh and pulling you onto his lap. Even in your pleasant haze, the sudden, unsettled motion struck you, and you sat still for a few seconds, trying not to blink owlishly at him. A ghost of a grin curled Ares’ lips, and he waited expectantly. Large, hard hands lingered on your skin. They shifted, and you flinched reflexively, and Ares’ smile showed a slight flash of teeth, as if he was enjoying the tension, however brief. “Don’t keep the man waiting, babe,” drifted Dionysus’ voice from his chaise. Apparently, he was paying more attention it had initially appeared. Shaking yourself out of your surprised stupor, you licked your lips and tried to relax again. You bent forward, planting your hands firmly on the front of Ares’ tunic and crushing your lip to his. The taste of whatever sharp, potent liquid he had been drinking met you head on, mingling with something pleasantly earthy and overwhelming the

lingering sweetness from the wine Dionysus had plied you with. There was a soft clunk as he set down his drink somewhere nearby, and his reaction was swift, pushing roughly back into the kiss and nipping harshly at your lower lip. One hand tangled in your hair, his grip stinging, preventing you from retreating. The other wasn’t to be left idle, sweeping over your form, grabbing rough handfuls of your ass or thighs or chest as it wandered. A cruel, full bite to your lip made you hiss and gasp, opening the seal of your lips well wide enough for Ares to thrust his tongue between them. When it twined itself with yours, it was as fierce as his kiss, waging a battle rather than taking part in what was for many a sensual dance. The hand roaming your body shifted to the small of your back, pushing your hips down into his, ensuring you felt the fruits of your effort to entice him, already straining beneath his clothes, hard and hot even through them. Ares pulled away, allowing you to catch your breath and taste blood as it trickled from your savaged bottom lip. Your tongue slipped out once more, re-wetting your lips and gathering the stray beads of blood. Something like amusement had overtaken Ares’ wild-eyed gaze. “What an obedient little nymph you have brought, brother,” he said smoothly, clearly addressing Dionysus, though his attention remained fixed on you, taking a more thorough measure of your form spread across his lap. Something you couldn’t quite place flashed through the cutting red for an instant before he spoke again, and you couldn’t contain another shiver. “How much can such a fragile creature handle, I wonder,” he mused, the hand that had captured your head sliding down and lightly skimming over your neck briefly. Another shudder wracked you, less noticeable this time, and your breath caught in your chest. “Come now, nymph, let us see.” Quickly, Ares was on you again, leaning forward in his seat, pressing you more insistently into his lap before the same hand dug into your hair again, pulling and directing until you were bent back at his mercy. As before, Ares didn’t try to be soft or considerate, nipping at your lips again and wrestling your tongue into writhing submission. The warm, encouraging strength of the brew Dionysus had supplied made the lines between arousal and fear bubbling beneath the surface warp and twist, and you weren’t sure which was surging from the less than gentle treatment. Small moans and gasps previously smothered by Ares’ mouth and tongue broke free when he moved away again, licking his lips. He didn’t waste time, though, moving down your throat just as aggressively as he had kissed you. Sharp bites and soon-to-be bruises left a burning path across your jaw and throat. A deep, satisfied hum rolled through Ares when he was met with hisses and groans in response. Though his actions were careless and painful, there was pleasure in them, too, stoking a growing heat in you as if each touch of his lips and teeth and tongue infused you with the excited heat of bloodlust that filled the war god. You rolled your body toward his harsh attentions, bare core grinding against the eager hardness tucked beneath his clothes. A dark laugh tickled your skin, and you cracked your eyes open to spy an amused expression gracing Ares’ face. They snapped shut again to absorb the myriad mix of pain and pleasure as he assaulted your skin all over again. Somehow, his mouth on your skin felt so hot, even though you were sure your entire body was already aflame. So caught up in Ares’ attentions, you paid no mind to what had become of Dionysus. He lay eyeing the entire spectacle while he reclined languidly on his own chaise. Had you realized, it would have come as no surprise that the hedonistic god was fond of watching. And for a time, Dionysus was content to do just that - watch - his eyes glued to your reactions from his brother’s touch. But it wasn’t long before looking alone wasn’t enough, and his hand drifted to his lap, palming an erection of his own and stroking it through the fabric. Ares withdrew

again, allowing another short reprieve from his onslaught of mouth and hand. You followed him, moving your hands from his chest to his lap. A tiny part of you urged you to trace the outline of his erection beneath his clothes, to take your time. Yet another, far louder, more sensible part suggested that Ares wouldn’t likely take too kindly to a light and teasing touch. You abandoned the notion, ignoring the dull sting of the marks Ares had bit and sucked into your skin. You pushed his lappets away instead, and his cock stood free and stiff before you, almost as imposing as its owner. Rather than taking the time to admire him, you wrapped a hand around his thick cock, rewarded with a deep, primal sound. Ares’ head tilted back for a moment, basking in your hand slipping up and down his length. You squeezed a little harder as you stroked him, and Ares groaned; a husky, growling noise that went straight to your cunt. You didn’t hear the footsteps approaching closer and closer behind you, nor did you catch the motion sweeping toward you. You only realized Dionysus’ suddenly much closer present when Ares tipped his head forward and cast his eyes past you. A brief glimpse of annoyance flitted across his face, quickly erased as you continued to fondle his cock. “Inviting yourself to join in, brother?” Ares asked, and part of you was almost disappointed to hear how collected and smooth his tone sounded, as if you weren’t touching him at all, nor as if he had set upon you like a wild beast before that. Your pace slowed, but didn’t stop as you twisted as far as you could to look back over your shoulder. You found Dionysus standing in front of Ares’ chaise, his own excitement easily noticeable beneath his flowing tunic. “Can’t very well resist a show like this,” Dionysus excused shamelessly with a shrug. Something told you this was hardly the first time he had intruded on someone else’s carnal moments. Or perhaps his eternally relaxed attitude only gave off that sense. “You’ll just have to learn to share.” Your glance flicked from one to the other, expecting Ares to look more irritated at Dionysus’ casual decree, but he seemed to brush it off with a short, dismissive hum. His focus returned to you, deciding you more worthy of his time. He swiped your hand away from his cock, shifting you in his lap with both hands. You barely registered the sound of rustling of cloth behind you, completely distracted as Ares positioned you properly over him. He didn’t bother taking his time easing himself inside, jerking your hips down and bucking his upward. You stiffened immediately, biting your abused lip at the sudden stretching, aching sting as he filled you completely. You clawed at the fabric of the chaise, taking a deep, quivering breath. Fortunately, the wine and, somehow, Ares’ rough handling had left you limber and wet enough that the stretch of Ares’ cock wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Yet still, you couldn’t restrain a pained whimper and a shorter, gasping breath when he shifted, lifting you up and forcing you back down. “Aah, Lord Ares, it- I-I can’t--” Your words were cut short by a whine, and your eyes shot down, avoiding Ares’ cruel crimson ones, again attempting to relax, focusing on the pleasure beneath the pain. You swallowed hard, and your cunt constricted, despite the burning ache, at the sight of the bulge in your lower belly. You hadn’t missed Ares’ considerable endowment when you had been touching him beforehand, but the sight of him so noticeably buried in you was a little frightening, and somehow even more arousing. “What troubles you so, nymph?” you tore your gaze away from the lewd sight it was fixed on to meet Ares’ eyes when he spoke. The cut of his voice was derisive, almost cruel, and a leer adorned his lips. “Surely you can handle this,” he added. He lifted and lowered you again, harder, and his smirk grew just a little when you winced and a gasping ‘ah’ burst from your lips. Somehow it was no shock a god entangled in violence and war would enjoy some pain, even in play. Dionysus’ familiar voice

floated to you before you could answer, smooth as honey, and almost soothing. “Easy, babe, you’re doing great.” His words were an intimate whisper, and if Ares could hear, he didn’t care to acknowledge them, only spearing you on his cock all over again, settling into a slow, rough pace. “Gotta relax, let it all go,” Dionysus urged you, and the tickle of his breath sent a pleasant chill down your spine, making your cunt squeeze down on Ares’ length again. Dionysus’ hands splayed across the bare skin of your back, feeling almost cold on your overheated skin. He smoothed around your torso until a breast filled each large palm, his thumbs rubbing lightly over your nipples. The sensation was a welcome contrast to the sting of Ares’ brutal fucking. Though the pain didn’t seem as bad as it had been - whether you were becoming used to it, or the pleasure Dionysus added muted it, you weren’t sure. Ares’ hands, meanwhile, remained steadfast on your hips, content to hold them in a grip tight enough to surely bruise. Each new time you sank down on his dick, your breath escaped in a gasp or breathless groan. The sounds you made morphed into something steadily more erotic, breathier and wanton. Ares’ voice drifted out, too, though in rumbling grunt when he buried himself completely inside you. Coming down on his length again, another hardness met you, from your backside this time, your ass sliding against it as Ares continued to fuck you. A fleeting glance back told you was Dionysus, proudly nude having decided completely discarding his long tunic was the best course of action. Your lapse in attention earned you more punishment from Ares, though, and he took the chance to lean forward and bite down on your neck sharply. Your hands flexed again, digging into whatever it was they had settled on now - you weren’t concerned with what, be it cloth or flesh or anything else. Your head snapped around, meeting entertained, self-satisfied red. Dionysus’ erection drew back and one hand lifted away. After several more thrusts, something hard, but smaller and more pliant prodded at your ass. Coated in something tacky and slick, what you assumed was one of Dionysus’ fingers searched briefly before finding your asshole and rubbing against it in small, gentle circles. An extra hard thrust from Ares made you tense and whimper, though your body clenched around him again. Still near your throat, Ares’ mouth closed over your skin again, biting and sucking greedily. Dionysus’ finger abandoned the lazy circles, pressing lightly against your puckered hole, steadily forward, careful despite Ares’ jarring pace. When the digit finally slipped through the ring of muscle, you hissed, a new discomfort striking you for an instant, in combination with Ares’ harshness. But whatever coated Dionysus’ finger had made the penetration only uncomfortable for a brief moment, and when he eased his finger in and out, the discomfort shifted to the back of your mind, replaced by the increased sense of fullness. Alongside it, a bubbling tension was awakening in your core, spurred on by the treatment of both gods, boiling low and tightening further ever-so-slowly. A second thick finger joined the first, and you became more used to the newest intrusion, taking in the swell of sensations enveloping you. Dionysus’ pace shifted to match Ares’ in speed, but it remained careful and otherwise languid. The hand he had left on your tits though became notably rougher, though, from excitement, rather than pleasure in pain. Ares’ grip on your hips wavered, no longer needing to so forcefully direct you. The ministrations from both had worked you into a wild heat that encouraged you to rock and grind against him and back onto Dionysus’ fingers. You couldn’t decide which your body craved more. All you knew was you needed both. Any remaining tension had been completely sapped away, along with all coherency you had possessed. An unbidden whine broke free when Dionysus withdrew his fingers, turning halfway into a gasp and then a moan when Ares paired a hard thrust with an even harder

bite on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You had little time to protest or miss any of the sensations before the hotter, harder touch of Dionysus’ cock returned, coated in the same thick, slick substance as his fingers. He aligned himself with your ass, as smooth and relaxed as before. “Better take a deep breath, babe,” Dionysus purred in your ear, both of his hands shifting to cut your rear. He pushed forward as you impaled yourself on Ares once more, his entrance mindful and slow; the opposite of his brother’s entirely. You drew a sharp breath, not from Dionysus’ warning, but simply from the way each inch added more and more to what you had already believed to be a fullness that threatened to split you wide. By the time Dionysus, too, was sheathed inside of you, the fullness bordered on overwhelming, and your breathing faltered again, your mind so completely scrambled. Your head fell back and your lips opened in an ‘oh’ of pleasure, dull pain, and a plethora of other intense, mixed feelings. You tried to rock into them both, to meet each thrust, though when their paces aligned, you could do little but writhe and moan, as if all sense had been wrung from you. Dionysus mouthed at your ear playfully, tongue curling across the shell. “Mm, you’re doing great, babe,” he praised in a husky whisper you almost didn’t catch, so caught up in everything. But catch them you did, and they sent another shudder coursing through you, your body squeezing both gods desperately and drawing more erotic sounds from them both. Another growling, low moan from Ares. A breathy, hedonistic groan from Dionysus. They only added to the mounting maelstrom of arousal and heat. Your heart quickened when one of Ares’ hands abandoned your hips and splayed around your throat loosely. His lips brushed your ear, and as he spoke, he squeezed, just enough to make your heart beat even faster and your breath come a bit more shallow. “Enjoying yourself, are you, nymph?” he growled cheekily. “I might have expected as much from one of my dear brother’s little harlots.” Had you been more sober, clear minded, Ares’ words, sounding nearly a slight, might have made you flush hot with humiliation. Instead, they worked only to heighten your desire, flowing into everything else. You had no mind left for embarrassment. All that remained were the mind-numbing sensations surrounding you and filling you. Ares’ voice dropped away, his pace picking up, his hips bucking harder into yours. Even Dionysus behind you thrust a little faster, harder, his own peaking arousal just as plain as Ares’. You weren’t immune to the welling up of pleasure, either, your belly churning and tight with a winding heat that was nigh unbearable. It grew and grew each time you were filled, and you wanted to scream instead of moan, cry instead of gasp. The thick intrusions, the wandering and groping and squeezing hands, and the greedy, hot tongues and teeth. It all came together in the perfect storm of mindless, primal passion. You came before either of them, giving into whatever wanton shout or cry wanted to escape, your muscles clenching frantically. When first the tense coil of heat burst, you were set awash with that heat, searing and intense, as if lightning struck. Your orgasm rose and fell, only to be dragged out by Ares’ and Dionysus’ unceasing pace, thrusting into your heat unrelentingly. The end of one orgasm blended into the beginning of another, and hot, overwhelmed tears brimmed in your eyes before breaking away. On either side of your face, each god lingered. Dionysus whispered more sultry words of praise and encouragement, placing sloppy kisses on your temple and cheek. Ares nipped your jaw and licked at the salty trail of your tears, as it was an exquisite taste that delighted him. Ares’ hips rolled into you harder than ever before, pace becoming wild and erratic. With a final sharp thrust, Ares’ release filled your cunt, hot and thick, accompanied by a savage bite to your neck that left the warm, sticky feeling of blood in its wake. When he pulled back, a bit of

blood smeared on his lips and teeth, he looked even more warlike and intimidating than to start. But something in his expression seemed sated, calm almost - or at least as calm as a god of such chaos could be. Dionysus, despite joining in later, took little longer to reach his own climax, and with a grinding thrust, he, too, coated your insides with his cum. A drawn-out, erotic moan followed in the wake of his orgasm, and he lay his head on your shoulder, his hair sticking to your overheated, sweat-slicked skin. After a moment of silence, Ares reclined back more comfortably, though didn’t bother to lift you off his length. Dionysus pulled away, withdrawing leisurely with a sound of contentment. Feeling exhausted and sore, you chanced collapsing against Ares’ chest, and to your surprise, the war god allowed it. You ignored the warm, wet feeling seeping down your thighs, too tired to truly care. “There. Don’t we all feel better now?” asked Dionysus cheerily, hardly sounded tired or winded at all. He paused to listen in silence, searching for the previous ruckus. “Certainly sounds a bit quieter out there now.” “Perhaps,” Ares drawled, and he didn’t sound very taxed either. It seemed you were the only one so tired. “I may yet have more use for your nymph before the night is done,” Ares decided, and you jumped reflexively when his fingers curled in your hair and massaged absently, in a gesture that could almost be confused for affectionate. Dionysus hummed acknowledgement. “Well, I’ll be back in a bit then. Try not to have too much more fun while I’m gone.” You heard rather than saw Dionysus redress and depart, too tired to bother looking. Your mind wandered to what other uses Ares might have for you, as he had stated. Did Dionysus have similar intentions in mind for the evening, too? Whatever the case, this wouldn’t be a night you would soon forget.