#caresses face like she's a greek statue

[hercarisntyours]

"😯"

it's her

[phoenix-downer]

Where I Belong Chapter 2

Playing Hooky: ~3150 words. Sora and Kairi spend the rest of the day together at Hercules’ villa. The romantic garden statues prompt Sora to tell Kairi about a famous Greek myth, and he finally works up the courage to confess something important to her. 

Story Info: Sora/Kairi. Starts during the end of KH3/during ReMind and moves into KH4. Kairi POV. Angst, Romance, Fluff.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Running around the villa all afternoon with Sora was so much fun. They played hide and seek in the gardens, splashed around in the pools, and recounted their favorite stories and memories from back home. They played all sorts of games together, challenged each other to perform various types of tricks with their Keyblades, and enjoyed a delicious dinner courtesy of Herc and Meg’s gracious staff as the sun sank low over the sea. 

As the stars came out, Sora asked her if she’d like to go for a walk. She nodded and reached for his hand, wanting to enjoy this beautiful night with its perfect weather before they had to leave. The gardens were gorgeous, and they hadn’t even seen all of them this afternoon. Besides, the villa had a different feel to it at night. Everything was more atmospheric, more romantic.

Presently, they strolled past a round, tiered fountain that caught Kairi’s eye. A statue of a fish with its tail raised high in the air was on the upper tier, and out of its mouth water poured into the basin of the lower tier. A tall pediment with a group of singing women graced the lower tier, and at the base of the pediment were statues of two couples, both kissing. One of the couples was seated with the woman’s arms around the man, a flower resting in her hand. His arm was wrapped around her back, the other resting over his heart. Kairi's face felt hot when she thought about Sora kissing her like that.

The other couple was even more scandalous. The woman was lying on her side, her torso gracefully twisting so she could cup the face of her lover and kiss him. He for his part hovered over her, his big beautiful wings extending behind him and his hand resting on her waist as they embraced.

Now her face was really red. Why did this garden have so many statues like this? Everywhere she and Sora turned there were statues of couples kissing, caressing, embracing. It was putting thoughts in her head that she didn’t know what to do with, awakening feelings she wasn’t sure how to handle.

Sora noticed she was staring at the statue. “That one’s really nice, isn’t it?” he said, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. 

She nodded, too embarrassed to say anything. 

“Herc and Meg told me about it the last time I was here. It’s based on one of the myths of this world. There was once a beautiful woman named Psyche. She was so beautiful that people thought she was the goddess Aphrodite in human form and began to worship her. That made the actual Aphrodite jealous and upset because Psyche was just a human. So Aphrodite asked her son Eros to make Psyche fall in love with some wild animal to humiliate her.” 

Kairi frowned. “That seems a little excessive, don’t you think?” It wasn’t like it was Psyche's fault people were worshiping her instead of Aphrodite. 

Sora glanced around. “I wouldn’t, um, say what you really think about the gods here, you never know when they might be listening.”

Kairi clasped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Anyway, Eros has these arrows that he can shoot at people, and his targets fall in love with the first thing they see after he shoots them. So he was gonna use one to make Psyche fall in love with a wild animal. Problem is, the moment he saw her, he was so taken with her that he accidentally pricked himself with the arrow and fell madly in love with her instead.” 

“Serves him right,” Kairi mumbled, then clasped her hand over her mouth again. Oops. 

Sora cleared his throat and continued. “So, Eros made arrangements for Psyche to be his wife. He had to sneak around and do it though because his mom didn’t approve. He brought Psyche to his beautiful palace and made sure she was well taken care of. She got to eat all the finest foods and received all the nicest gifts. And when night came, he came to her and, well, they, um, they, you know—” 

Kairi’s face was even redder now. She was glad it was dark outside and hoped Sora couldn’t see how hard she was blushing. At least he seemed as flustered as she was. 

“Um, anyway,” he continued, sputtering and rubbing his neck, “they were sort of married after that, I guess, and he visited her every night. During the day, she could do whatever she wanted. He had only one rule for her, that she couldn’t see what he really looked like or know his name. That was why he always left at sunrise.” 

“Why do you think he didn’t want her to see him?” Kairi asked, tilting her head. If he was a beautiful god with splendid wings like the statue before her, why wouldn’t he want his wife to know who he was?

“Maybe he was scared she wouldn’t love him for him if she knew,” Sora said. “Maybe he wanted to make sure she wasn’t just in love with him because he was a god.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Kairi said, resting a hand over her heart. She looked at Sora. He’d grown so much and he’d gotten so strong, plus he was well-liked by people across so many different worlds. Maybe he was worried that people cared more about that than about his heart. 

Well, she didn’t. She loved him for him. She’d loved him ever since he was a dorky islander boy who thought a onesie paired with a jacket and big, clunky shoes was the height of fashion. She smiled affectionately. The time she’d known him only endeared him to her more, not less.

“Anyway,” Sora continued, unable to keep his eyes off of her, “one day, Psyche’s sisters visited her and were so jealous of her new home that they convinced her to break Eros’s one rule for her. They preyed on her fears that Eros might be a monster who wanted to devour her and told her that was why he was hiding his appearance. So Psyche got a lamp and a dagger ready and stashed it in her room. That night, Eros came to visit her like he always did. When he was asleep, she grabbed the dagger and lit the lamp so she could see what he looked like and then kill him if he was a monster.” 

Kairi listened intently. This story just kept getting more and more intriguing. “What happened?”

“She saw that her husband was really a god and was startled by how handsome he was. She stumbled and pricked herself on one of his arrows and fell madly in love with him, just like he’d fallen madly in love with her. But she accidentally dripped hot oil on him from the lamp, and it hurt him really badly. He was so upset by her betrayal that he flew away.” 

“Oh no,” Kairi said. Poor Psyche, she hadn’t meant to hurt him, she’d just been scared and curious. It was all just a big misunderstanding, surely Eros knew that.

“Psyche was inconsolable after he left,” Sora said, his voice breaking a little. “She wandered the earth looking for him and eventually found his mom, Aphrodite. Aphrodite was still angry at Psyche and thought this was the perfect chance to punish her. So she gave her an impossible task that Psyche was only able to accomplish with outside help. Aphrodite was irritated but kept giving her more impossible tasks, and Psyche beat her every time. Then she gave Psyche one final task: if she could bring back some of the goddess Persephone’s beauty in a box for Aphrodite from the Underworld, then Aphrodite would let Psyche see Eros again.”

Something was going to go wrong, Kairi just knew it. She nodded at Sora to continue.

“Psyche went to the Underworld and got what Aphrodite asked for, then returned to the light of day.” He sighed deeply. “But she got so curious that she opened the box when she wasn’t supposed to. She hadn’t learned anything from before.” 

“I don’t think she meant any ill by it,” Kairi said softly. “I think she just wanted to be beautiful for her husband. Maybe she was worried he wouldn’t love her anymore.”

Sora just looked at her. “I don’t think he could ever stop loving her.”

Her heart skipped a few beats as they just gazed at each other, and then he finally continued. “Inside the box was Sleep, and Psyche fell into a deep sleep she couldn’t wake up from because of it.” 

“Oh no,” Kairi said. Poor Psyche, to have come all that way, only to fail at the very end.

“But Eros’s wounds from the hot oil had finally turned into scars, and he flew out of his mom’s house to search for Psyche. When he found her, he was grieved to see what had happened to her. So he drew the sleep from her face with a kiss and put it back in the box.” Sora gestured at the statue. “That’s the moment this statue is showing.” 

“How romantic,” Kairi said, clasping her hands together. Sora was right, the statue was that much more beautiful knowing the meaning behind it. Eros awakening his wife with a kiss. Even after she’d hurt him, even after she’d betrayed him, he still came for her. And she’d proven her love for him by doing all those impossible tasks just for the chance to see him again. 

Sora continued. “Eros pricked Psyche with an arrow that didn’t hurt her, then together they flew to Aphrodite and presented the box to her. After that, Eros took Psyche to Zeus and asked for permission for him and Psyche to be married properly. Zeus gave his permission, and before all the gods he blessed their union and gave Psyche this stuff called ambrosia to drink, which made her immortal. Then there was a big wedding banquet, and before too long they had a daughter named Hedone.” 

“What a beautiful story,” Kairi said, sighing happily. “I’m glad they got their happy ending. Thank you, Sora, for sharing it with me.” She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. She knew she and Sora could never have what Eros and Psyche did, but it was nice to know that fate wasn’t always unkind to two people in love. 

Of course, she and Sora weren’t gods, they were just ordinary humans. Maybe that was why they were so unlucky. 

“Kairi,” he said softly, and her breath caught in her throat. “Do you think we could ever…”

She tilted her head. “Do I think we could ever what?” 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, nevermind.” 

She frowned. She wanted to know what was on his mind, but she didn’t want to press him. He was troubled, that much she could tell, and she wanted him to be happy. 

“Come on,” she said, hoping to distract him. “Let’s see the rest of the gardens.”

They continued their stroll till they reached an area with a large rectangular fountain with rounded ends. In the fountain was a statue of a couple dancing together, and in her eagerness to reach it, Kairi felt a sharp prick on her bicep. 

“Ouch,” she muttered, rubbing her arm. She’d accidentally run into a small statue of a boy with a bow and arrow…a boy with an arrow…Oh dear, was this supposed to be a young Eros with his special arrows that made you fall madly in love with the next person you saw? She knew it was just a story, but the gods here seemed pretty real, and so maybe Eros’s powers were real too, even in statue form—

She hurriedly glanced at Sora, hoping he hadn’t noticed. 

Of course he had. “You okay?” he asked, his brows knitting together in concern.

“I’m fine!” she quickly reassured him, trying to block the statue with her body. He peered over her shoulder.

“Did you bump into that statue?” he asked. “It looks kinda pointy—” His eyes widened when he saw what the statue was. “Is that Eros with his bow and arrow?”

“I guess,” she mumbled, her shoulders slumping as she admitted defeat. Besides, it wasn’t like she’d needed some magic arrows to fall in love with Sora. His own charms had done the trick ages ago.

He just grinned at her and purposely pricked himself on the arrow. “There, now we’re even.”

“S-Sora!” 

He shrugged. “What? It’s not like I need a magic arrow to tell me how I feel, anyway.” He reached for her hand again. “C’mon, you wanted to see that statue over there of the dancing couple, right?”

It was a lovely statue too, and Sora filled her in on what Herc and Meg had told him about it as they lounged on the edges of the fountain. They chatted for a while afterwards about this and that, but then he fell silent. As she looked at the stars above, taking in the sea of diamond constellations, she felt his eyes on her and waited patiently for him to speak again.

“Kairi?” he said at last, and his voice was low. Heavy.

She frowned, her heart sinking. In a sharp contrast to his cheerful demeanor from before, his head drooped and his eyes were pained. “What’s wrong?” she gently prodded, though she suspected he was finally ready to tell her what she already knew. 

“I’m dying.” His voice broke on the words, and she could see the fear and anguish in his eyes. The sorrow and resignation. Death was staring him in the face, trying to collect its payment, its due. Saving her life had come at the cost of his, and this world trip and romp through the gardens was simply delaying the inevitable. 

Death would come for him in the end. And while he was very brave, even the strongest of hearts sometimes needed the comfort and reassurance of another person, especially in the face of such a terrible, uncertain, inevitable specter as death.

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry. It should’ve been me, not you.” If only she hadn’t been so weak and useless, Sora wouldn’t have needed to sacrifice himself for her. Again. Her mistakes had cost him his life this time, and that regret would stay with her forever. 

He shook his head. “No, absolutely not. I don’t regret my decision to save you. It’s my fault you—”

“It’s Xehanort’s fault,” she said grimly. She would not let Sora die blaming himself for this. “And while that was awful, you didn’t let me die. You saved me from my imprisonment. You rescued me from a fate way worse than death, and all at a great cost to you. You could’ve just given up. Moved on and lived the rest of your life and died of old age. But you didn’t.” 

He studied his hands. For a brief moment, they flickered in and out of existence, the truth of what was happening to him wounding her heart like she was watching him drown moment by agonizing moment, helpless to do anything. The beautiful weather and serene scenery was in such a stark contrast to the cruel forces they were battling. 

“Herc once told me why he gave up his immortality to be with Meg,” Sora said at last. “He said, ‘I’d have to be apart from the person I love most, and that life would be empty.’ It’s stuck with me ever since. And when Xehanort struck you down, I knew. I knew that I couldn’t just abandon you to fate, to death. I just couldn’t. I didn’t care what it cost me, I had to bring you home.”

She was once again moved by his selflessness, his sacrifice. It had given her a new perspective on everything. A new lease on life. But oh the cost to him. Written in his blood, carved into his heart for all time. 

And yet, she didn’t want his sacrifice to go to waste. Hating herself would be like a slap in the face to him. Would tell him that she didn’t think his sacrifice was worth it, that he wasn’t worth it. The least she could do was try to love herself the way he did.

She fiddled with her necklace. “On my own, I really struggle to like myself sometimes, you know? I just feel so…worthless. Useless.” He opened his mouth to protest, and she put a finger over his lips and smiled gently. “But I know I’m not, because you always lift me up and bring out the best in me. You support me and believe in me. With you by my side, I can literally soar through the heavens. You’re always showing me such wonderful new things, and you keep sharing your heart with me. How could I hate myself in light of all that?”

He reached for her hand. “If only you saw yourself the way I see you.” 

She smiled sadly. “I think I’m starting to.” 

“Then keep seeing yourself that way when I’m gone, okay?” His voice was getting all choked up, and a lump built in her throat too. Life was so cruel, so unfair. Nasty people like Xehanort got to live long, happy lives while Sora was doomed to die young and tragically. Sora, who was so selfless and good and wonderful.

Why was fate so unkind? 

Hot tears welled up in her eyes. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

Sora wordlessly pulled her into his arms, and they held each other for a very long time. Nothing else needed to be said. She was supposed to be the one comforting him about his death, and yet here he was comforting her. Or maybe they were comforting each other, two lonely, broken hearts finding temporary solace in one another till they were torn apart once more. 

“It’s time,” Sora said softly. “Let’s go home.” They returned to the main building of the villa to say goodbye to Hercules, Meg, Phil, and Pegasus. Their little group was much more solemn now than it had been earlier today. Kairi sensed the others knew something was wrong, but they were kind enough to humor Sora and didn’t say anything about it. Instead they just gave their usual well wishes and made their playful demands for him to visit again soon. That got him to smile and laugh and crack jokes, and Kairi was grateful for it.

That little bit of normalcy was the best gift they could’ve given him.

Presently, he summoned his Keyblade and pointed it at the sky, then offered his hand to Kairi. She took it, and this time, they both acknowledged how it flickered in her grasp.

“Until next time,” he told their friends, and with that, they were on their way.

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A/N: The prompt for this fic was provided by Aquafolia, who requested a story based on this quote from Hercules during KH3 in regards to why he gave up immortality to be with Meg: “I’d have to be apart from the person I love most, and that life would be empty.” She suggested Sora share it with Kairi while he breaks the news to her that he’s dying, so I worked it into this chapter. Thank you again 🙏

Thank you also to Liv for her feedback on the story and for keeping me motivated with all the kind support ❤️ 

The statues mentioned in this chapter are all actually from Herc’s villa in the movie, so I had a lot of fun working them in. Most of them show up during “I Won’t Say I’m In Love,” and as I was watching the movie and taking notes, I noticed the Eros and Psyche statue and inspiration hit. The statue that Meg accidentally pricks herself on was another one I knew I had to incorporate somehow lol.

Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged the story, it really means a lot! And thank you all for reading!

[sonoftartessos]

Marble Tomb || Nate and León

@predatorymaniac

The sun blazed down upon the group gathered in the courtyard. As much as León loved soaking in the sun, he loathed the clothes he wore clinging to his back and the heat blazing up from the stone underfoot.

‘I cannot decide.’ The Dominus had one arm folded over his chest, the other hand toying with his bottom lip. ‘What do you think?’ He glanced at the young man beside him. ‘Is this one too pretentious?’ 

Both life-size sculptures were marble and gold, expertly crafted and painted with so much care that they almost looked alive. The Senator’s untimely death had been a point of gossip amongst the other nobility. Half of Rome refused to touch his cursed belongings - including his family. The other half were vultures, picking at the carcass of a recently dead friend. 

León squinted at his Dominus, at the merchant and then at the sculptures. They were masterpieces. One depicted a nymph mid-transformation into a laurel tree, her face contorted in agony. León had to turn away from her, feeling those eyes bore into him accusatorially. 

‘What about this one?’ León gestured to the other sculpture. Nearly seven feet tall with a wingspan that made it colossal.

‘Really?’ The Dominus pushed past León to inspect the sculpture closely. ‘It has something to it, certainly.’ He ran his thumb along the jaw as if he was the sculptor, reshaping it. ‘But I do prefer the natural forms of the other.’ 

The merchant chuckled but remained silent. He clearly hoped that Dominus’ indecision would lead to him buying both. 

‘I don’t like the nymph,’ León said. 

‘It’s a good thing that your Dominus is the one buying it, then, isn’t it?’ The merchant snapped. 

The Dominus waved his hand dismissively at the merchant, still inspecting the winged sculpture. ‘Come. Convince me to buy this one instead of the one I would prefer.’ He extended a hand for León to take. 

León couldn’t refuse, obeying his Dominus as he stepped toward the sculpture. He practically climbed it to show the Dominus. ‘Well.’ León placed Dominus’ hand on the sculpture’s wings. ‘You can only see it from a certain angle but feel that?’ The Dominus caressed the sculpture’s wings, trailing his fingers over its shoulder blades and hair. 

‘It is textured!’ The Dominus removed his hand from the winged man and reached for the nymph. ‘This one is, too.’ He sounded disappointed. ‘I still see no reason to take this colossus.’ It was an exaggeration that pricked at León. 

‘He feels different. He feels better crafted.’ León remained half-standing on the sculpture, a hand pressed on its chest where the heart would have been if it was organic. ‘Lifelike.’ 

‘This young lady could easily live in my place in the city. She can bring a bit of nature to the place. That would live where?’ 

‘There is still space in the countryside. You haven’t replaced the Neptune statue.’ 

‘You would have me replace a sculpture of a god with this thing?’ 

León finally dismounted the sculpture. ‘You told me to convince you. I have tried.’ He shrugged and stepped back, allowing Dominus to speak privately with the merchant. 

They left without either that day. And a few days later, the nymph was delivered to the city domus. León had been the one responsible for unpacking it. He knew the Dominus was testing him, so there was not a single leaf out of place, as much as he wanted to blindfold the statue so she would stop staring at him. 

They remained in the city for a few more weeks while the dominus sorted the last of his business. And then they were off, back to the country. It took a few days for everything to return to Dominus’ standards. León didn’t think he relaxed once the entire time. 

Sweat rolled from León’s face as he hefted grain sacks across the villa. The city had spoiled him. But now he had Dominus’ entire family to cater for. That meant no lazy afternoons learning Latin and Greek with the Dominus. And no other less pleasant duties. 

He was daydreaming about sneaking off to the river when he collided with something hard. He lay winded across a marble knee, the bags of grain torn and spilling between golden sandals. 

León pushed himself up, still struggling to catch his breath. He stood face to face with the giant sculpture from the weeks before. He had almost forgotten about it. ‘Hello?’ he said in his native tongue, amusement curling at his lips. ‘You did that. If I get lashed, it is your fault.’ He chuckled, rubbing his stomach as he left to get something to clear up the grain. 

Had his Dominus really bought the sculpture for him? 

[blackbutlerfandomnerddomain]

Can you do the prompt Touch for Doll x Ciel ?

https://at.tumblr.com/blackbutlerfandomnerddomain/some-phowill-smiledoll-short-fic-prompts/fzzncf2fw5ew

Can do!

Oh if Heaven could dare see what the might eye of sapphire see.

Soft slightly pink rose petals of lips against the smooth wonderfully untouched porcelain skin, Dark hair tangled in gentle whips of fluffy tuffs fingers can run through a million times over, Soft long curled dark lashes over a beautiful rich peacock-blue eye clashes with the misty dull glimmering soft violet marbles that are dare called eyes, morning and night along side one another, This beautiful face's owner's body is not one of a Greek statue but one of a little doll with lose limbs with that porcelain skin hugged tight to the bones with a lovely soft silk night gown drapes over the body like a curtain.

A real life oil painting with a beating heart and gentle breaths of life. That's what he is.

"How long do you plain to stare at me?"

Doll's brown lashes flutter as her cheek pressed rather softly against the rising and falling stomach, a smile plastered against her lips. "Are ya sure ya ain't an angel Smile?" She asked, a small giggle ending her query. Ciel's nose scrunch up, earning a small bellow of a cackle from the Earl's lap warmer. She knows how he feels about these Biblical words.

Cheeky grin glued on, the taller of the two sat up, her cotton warm shirt covering her stomach as her bloomers ruffle with the shown of her knitted wool socks of dark brown poke out from the ruffle lace ends. Two of her hands grab forth the blanket that covered the two and held it close like a cape hugging a knight's shoulders.

The little Earl smiled and brought a hand up, showing the differences of even their pale skins as his is smooth while her is sun kissed and spotted with freckles and small bumps from all the things she done in life. A gentle smooth palm pressed against the jawline of the circus princess, a thumb dance like a ghost across her bottom lip to which she smiles as her brown hair falls to her nose once again within it's tangled mess of bedhead.

"Why can't I have one quiet Sunday morning with you?" Asked Ciel, chuckling when she playfully nipped his thumb and gave it a kiss right after. Doll's bare arms moved down until her hands, then her elbows, rest on either side of his pretty pretty head, their noses brush against one another as their breaths tickle their faces in the mix of warm hot chocolate and warm fresh mint scented. With a grin, she answers, "You should've complained before you agreed on this heart Smile."

Two cold bare feet tangle with the warm covered ones as they poke out the now disheveled bed sheets, hands lightly ghosting and grazing the skins the two could find acceptable to nuzzle against as they whisper back and forth as if speaking could break this world apart, soft giggles leaving here and there.

The smoothness and gentle softness of one lips slowly and carefully caressed the soft yet somewhat rough lips before him, the two staying still for a second then parting only to peck back and forth as if they are speaking.

They can be as different as can be, but right here in this little bubble none of that matters to them. They touches is like a Holy word to pray to a religion, Their kisses are the only sentences meant speaking, This world is the only one they care for. . .

But they know soon enough it'll not last far long.

Soon, Ciel has to done up his fancy clothes with his fancy rings of title and spend time with the family who gave his life and name on a silver platter even when he's different.

Soon, Doll will have to return to the road and spend her time just watching through windows the life of a fairy tale only he can live in.

Neither could be beside the other in their most desired worlds without some sort of pain or cracks.

So for now, only in this Heaven can they stay for a small moment longer with "I love you"'s not just being words...

[heartylunalys]

Could you write an imagine where y/n and Timmy are friends with benefits and she always leave after sex but this time Timothee ask her to stay the night?

Hi anon! I hope you like this thank you for your request ! 🤎

my masterlist

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genre: smut, fluff

words: 1.5k

warnings: smut, slight sub!timothée

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Can you come over tonight? I miss you 

You chuckled at Timothée's message, he was so eager to see you even if you saw each other yesterday. At first you saw each other once a week then once every 4 or 3 days, and now he wants to see you everyday. You find it weird but still cute. 

Your relationship with timothée was quite simple, you were friends with benefits. You developped this relationship after the two of you had sex after a party.

It was so simple between the two of you, you didn’t feel awkward or that you had to behave a certain way for him to appreciate you. Everything was so natural with Timothée, you felt good with him, even great. He was sweet, attentioned, attentive, everything you could dream of. But he was also your friend, the greatest friend you had and you didn’t want to ruin everything just because you liked him, so you kept in engulfed in you. 

As you got ready before going to his house you listened to the playlist he had made for you, swaying your hips and singing, remembering the many times you were doing that together and it made you feel so euphoric. You remembered how he made you swing and laugh when the two of you danced on these songs. 

Timothée house was 15 minutes away from your home. You were there quickly, now waiting for him to open the door for you. When he finally did you could feel some nervousness in him and it was strange. Timothée never was nervous with you, you were never nervous with Timothée.

“Hi, I was waiting for you.” he smiled sweetly to you before letting you the space to come in. You slightly looked at him but you didn’t catch his eyes following your every movement and every curve of your body.

“Are you okay Tim?” You simply asked, a little bit concerned from the stress that was radiating from him. 

“Yeah, yeah, I just needed to see you.” he softly said in your ear and when you turned your face to see him better, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. You almost moaned at how his hands found their way under your shirt to caress the skin under it. 

He advanced forward as you tried to follow his steps by walking backward until your back hit the wall. Timothée made you wrap your legs around his waist as your hands were now pulling on his brown curls. His teeth were biting your lips, making you let out sweet pleasure sounds. You felt your breasts cupped by his hand but the overwhelming sensation of his bulge on your core was monopolizing all of your attention. 

The two of you separated to breathe but you were still looking at each other with so much tension. 

“Bed?” Timothée asked with a smirk he was trying to hide

“Bed” You nodded and answered determinedly before he took you hand to guide you to his bedroom that you already knew well as the two of you giggled.

Timothée pushed you on the bed, climbing on you, smiling with a loving look in his eyes. His hands traveled from your chest to your calves, loving to feel everytime the goosebumps he was causing. He took off his shirt and the view of his body and his messy curls was just incredible. It was as if you were in front of an ancient Greek god statue and you wished you could keep this image in your mind forever. He came back on you, now kissing and biting your neck as his name was rolling out of your mouth in pleasured sighs. Timothée rubbed his bulge against you to relieve the need he was feeling. His piercing green eyes were fixated on your face distorted by the pleasure and a smile was creeping on his face from how he was able to make you crazy. He grabbed the sides of your shorts in order to lower and remove them. You suddenly felt his fingers tracing the shape of your pussy, while his teeth were sinking into your skin. He took his time to touch the damp patch on your panties. His fingers finally encircled your clit, making you suddenly bite your bottom lip to repress a moan from escaping. 

“I want to hear you, why are you stopping yourself?” He asked in a cocky tone. 

“I need you so bad…please.” You mewled and he lifted your top to admire your breasts. His tongue traced a lign from your stomach to your right breast, circling your nipple with his tongue until he felt it hardened in his mouth. His fingers were still playing with your clit and the two feelings combined were delicious. 

“Fuck me…” he whispered in your ear and you couldn’t help but moan at his words, loving the effect you had on him, feeling his hard cock rutting against your thigh. 

“You’re so hard.” You muttered and he groaned deeply.

“And you’re so wet, I can’t wait anymore, please y/n.” He almost begged you, a satisfied smirk creeped on your face as you switched your position, having him now under you, his bulge right where you needed him the most and your legs encircling his thighs. He had a completly fucked up expression on his face but you were sure you had the same look on your face. 

You were grinding on Timothée, completely addicted to his sounds and the feeling. You unbuttoned his pants before standing up to take them off. His dick slightly slapped his stomach, the tip was red, slowly throbbing and leaking, so hungry for you and you almost drooled at the sight, feeling the wetness in your panties get worse by the second. You quickly took off your already damped panties. Timothée’s eyes were traveling the length of your figure, admiring the view of you like you were the Sun goddess, and that was really who you were in his mind when you’re skin was absorbing the sun and reflecting it ten times better on him. 

“You’re so beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off you.” He managed to tell you as you placed yourself upon him, searching for a condom in his nightstand drawer. You smiled when you heard him, flustered at his words. Once you finally found it, you opened it and began to slowly stroke Timothée's dick, listening to his whimpers like it was the sweetest music you ever heard. 

“Y/n…” Timothée moaned and you entangled your fingers in his curls to feel the softness of them.

“Shh baby, I’m right here, be patient.” You whispered and put on him the condom, seeing how impatient he was to be in you. 

When you finally sank over him, the hotness of your pussy slowly engulfed him, his eyes rolled. His nails gripped your waist as he tried to move his hips to be totally deep in you. 

“You’re so good, it’s like I’m fucking addicted.” He growled and your nails scratched his chest in pleasure. You could feel his dick stretching you and his nails now scratching your back as he moved your hips at the same time as you. The only things that could be heard were the name of each other rolling out of your mouth. Your hands were exploring the other body, not wanting to stop feeling the other’s skin, loving the electric sensation. The feeling of Timothée inside you was so good, his fingers pinching your nipples. It almost felt forbidden to feel so good. 

“Timothée!” You moaned as he engulfed you in his arms, holding you tight while fucking you, chasing his high while still trying to make you come. His movements were getting sloppier but you could feel it, you could feel the pleasure exploding in your stomach, making you roll your eyes and hold on to Timothée as if your life depended on him. Your moans were clouding his mind and the warmness of your skin and pussy were the only thing he could think about at this moment. His teeth sinked in your neck, trying to stop himself from screaming your name and praises. You felt his dick throbbing in you and you couldn’t help your own throbs as a warm sensation filled your pussy.

Timothée was out of breath, his eyes closed, still hugging you. You waited for him to take off and trash his condom. When he came back and laid next to you you sat up, not wanting to bother him, you never stayed, feeling it was too intimate. 

Timothée watched your back as you were putting back on your clothes. He hesitated before speaking.

“Y/n?” He softly asked and you hummed to make him know you were listening, “Can you stay please?” he almost whispered, not sure of your reaction. You froze a little bit, not expecting him to ask you that.

“Yeah, of course, I can do that.” You answered sweetly, stroking his cheek before laying next to him. He quickly took you in his arms, loving to feel the warmness of your skin against his. This was something he could definitely be used to, and while he listened to your soft breath informing him that you were asleep, he couldn’t help the warm feeling of love engulfing him.

*⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅**⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*❀⑅*⳾

a/n: I hope you liked this story!

I’m taking requests.

Likes, reblogs and comments are well appreciated!

I created this blog to allow black girls to feel more comfortable with reading x reader, as a black person I saw how much we weren’t really represented in the fanfic community

* ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° * ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

This is my work, please don’t repost it, translate it or take it without my permission.

Published the 09/07/2022

[iiraven]

Odyssey

Pairing: Poseidon!Armin x Reader

Genre: romance, smut

Warnings: slow-burn, minor character death, manipulation, stalking, possessiveness, Yandere behaviour, puppy play, piss play, body worship, throne sex, implied age-gap, oral(male receiving), hair pulling, collaring (without consent)

Word count: 9.8K

Synopsis: Armin’s quest for revenge leads him to you, daughter of a merchant and object of his infatuation.

Author’s note: thank you @bubbleteaimagines​ for hosting this collab and allowing me to join <3 Also, thank you @onyxoverride​ for teaching me how to write about pee!

Attack on Titan Masterlist

Present day:

If the river could speak, you wonder what it would say.

In the silence that surrounds the rushing of the water, you’re sure you would hear it. Sometimes, you’re sure you can hear it, but then you remember the dangers of trusting unfamiliar voices. Especially unfamiliar voices in a place like this.

No one goes near the river Shiganshina. And you forget the reasons why much too often.

It’s rocky, slippery, there’s no path to walk on, and the nymphs grow sharp teeth when men approach them, hissing and eyes glowing red. But that’s what makes it perfect for you.

Sasha first mentioned the river months ago, recalling the places on the island that her and her father avoided whenever they went hunting. You hadn’t paid much attention to it until days later, when Connie recounted with round eyes how Floch’s body was found beside the river Shiganshina, mouth full of water and eyes gouged out. You knew you needed to go there yourself.

A pearl necklace is what you stole. And under the guise of going to wash clothes at the well, you made your way south of your small island with only Sasha’s vague instructions and your intuition guiding you.

You could hear the ocean as you walked through the untouched woods, your heart hammering in your chest every time the waves crashed against the island’s cliffs. You weren’t allowed to see the ocean- you weren’t allowed to be around any large body of water, for that matter- but you still knew your island well enough to know that a step in the wrong place could lead you tumbling down the cliff.

You would die before you got to feel the water on your skin and that, you thought, would be the most tragic part.

As your feet began to sink into the muddy ground, you could smell the salty water, and a slight metallic scent behind it that only drew you in closer until you reached a clearing. It was small, crowded with foliage with only a few dead plants on the ground where you could only assume people had attempted to step foot.

And there was the river. It was small, its water emerging from underground before the tide pushed it to the edge of the island- to a waterfall. So loud that it could drown out any noise, any screams. You shivered. For a moment, you just stood back and watched. The water was was green, but so clear that you could still see the fish swimming beside the floating objects. Coins, silver, small statues, and whatever else hopefuls had tried to offer. You pulled out your own offering and whispered a short prayer before throwing the necklace in.

It could have been your imagination, but the water calmed. It was quieter. And, like that, you felt as if the river had opened up its arms to you. Strong arms that you have to be cautious not to spend too long within lest you get trapped.

Thankfully, you’ve learned to read the signs. You know when the river wants you to leave, when it wants you to keep your distance, when it wants to keep you close, and even when it wants you to bathe. Those are the special moments. It’s rare the river is calm enough for you to dip your naked body into, but surrounded by the cool water, you feel like you could stay their forever.

If the river could speak now, however, you’re sure it would tell you to fuck off.

Either that or it would tell you to come back when you have something more to offer its god than a single golden bead from your grandmother’s necklace. Only three are left on the thin string, though you think you might keep the last one to honour her death. After that, you’ll have to go back to offering coins and whatever other trinkets that will keep the god of this river sedated long enough for you to dip your feet into the cool water, maybe take a sip, and then return home before your father realises where you’ve been, much less where you’ve been unchaperoned.

The latter is hardly your fault. Sasha and Connie are too scared to step foot in the Shiganshina forest, let alone the river itself. And you can’t trust anyone else to accompany you, especially the servants whose tongue could slip at the drop of a golden coin. Your father would never forgive you for spending time in the territory of the God of the Ocean or- as he liked to call Armin- the destroyer of seas. And thus, being left alone seems to be the only way.

Well, that’s unless Mr Arlert decides to join you.

The owner of the stable who appeared on the island out of nowhere is the last person anyone would expect to be brave enough to spend time at the river Shiganshina. He mostly keeps to himself, only ever seen tending to his horses or immersed in scrolls of literature and poetry. And yet, he’s here almost as often as you are, almost as vulnerable as you are.

Despite his solitary nature, Mr Arlert has been quick to make himself adored. Mothers swoon over his charm, scholars constantly indulge in his curiosity, and sailors are fascinated by his knowledge of the world and its oceans. He’s no warrior, and already in his late twenties, but he’s still without a doubt one of the most eligible bachelors on Paradis. And, yet, to any marriage proposal sent his way, he declines with a polite “A husband is not what I am fated to become”. Even Annie Leonhardt- whose father Mr Arlert would constantly visit- had her heart broken. But no one blames Mr Arlert, of course, who was there to comfort Annie, to make her realise that she just needs to be a better person, that’s all. It’s not his fault her heart broke, Mr Arlert reassured.

Thinking about it now, you’re amongst the handful of women who haven’t been offered to the tall blond. And with that comes a sigh of relief as you drag your fingers through the water.

It’s not like you dislike him- the opposite, actually- but being with Mr Arlert is like taking the hand of an invisible man in the dark and letting him guide you.

His words constantly have your thoughts spiralling in directions that they shouldn’t be. Thoughts about leaving the island, thoughts about going to the ocean, thoughts about becoming a priestess. Thoughts you aren’t allowed to have.

You fate is bound to the home you were born in, a thick rope tied to your ankle, only letting you go as far as this very river. And Mr Arlert sits beside that rope, a knife in his hand, blue eyes staring into your soul, waiting. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for. But what you’re sure of is that to be taken away from the life you know of is an inconceivable fantasy. The unknown is a dangerous thing, after all.

The small island of Paradis may lie far away from the rest of the world, but their core values remain the same. A woman must grow up to either serve her father or her husband. Your fate has already been decided for you. And, frankly, if it means not having to share a bed with an old man who marries you for your dowry, you’re very happy with taking care of your father until the day that he’ll be put into the ground.

But then there’s always the third option. A woman who serves neither her father nor her husband will serve her god. 

You had never been given that option by your god-hating kin. Simply suggesting a future as priestess would earn you at least five lashes, so why… why can’t you stop thinking about it? Your instincts have you blame Mr Arlert, but you know that your fixation began before he arrived on the island; all he’s done is vocalise your thoughts.

As a gust of wind blows the leaves and the salt from the sea gently caresses your cheek, you wonder who your god would be. Do you resonate with Pieck’s beauty, or Zeke’s creativity? Maybe. But as you look into your reflection, you know that your god is no other than Armin, the god of the ocean. The fates must think this is hilarious, but you just want to scream.

“It’s getting late. I wouldn’t want your father worrying about you.”

You jump at the sudden voice, turning around at the familiar face, leaning against a tree with a gentle smile.

“Thank you, Mr Arlert.”

His footsteps are so gentle, as are his apologies.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’ve come to invade your space, after all.”

“It’s not my space, it’s Armin’s. The god is only letting me stay here.”

He smiles a knowing smile, one that you would usually find patronising on any other man. But Armin is charming, too charming for you ever to think that of him. “I suppose you’re right.”

He comes to sit down beside you, taking his usual place at your right- the voice of reason. It’s quiet for a moment, before you remember.

“Lemnos,” you say.

The blond smiles. “I’m not named after a place.”

And you roll your eyes, as you’ve done every time he’s given you a useless hint. “That hardly narrows it down.”

“Well, I can’t make it too easy of a game.”

“You can’t make it impossible either!”

“It seems like I already have.” And you’re not sure if you want to wipe the smirk off his face or just stare at it.

“What about Tree?”

Arlert laughs. “No, but you have one guess left.”

“What?!” You sit up straight, eyes wide. Now you really want to wipe the smirk off his face.

“You have seven guesses, and in the eleven months we’ve known each other, you’ve used up six.” His explanation is calm and rational enough for you to almost convince yourself that the rule has been there from the start.

“Wait- wait. I never knew about this!”

“I thought everyone did. It’s traditional wager rules.” Mr Arlert’s tone is sorry, but you know he’s everything but. So, you cross your arms and pout, hoping that staring him down might at least give you the smallest chance of winning your wager.

He leans forward, mirthful and you feel a shiver go down your spine. “What is it, little puppy, sulking because you’re afraid you can’t win?”

You flush at the implication of your loss- “No- no not at all- no”- before registering his actual words are and only then can you feel the heat rise and you’re sure it’s doing you no service. “I know I can win!”

“I know you can too,” he assures you.

You frown. “Are you being sarcastic?”

It’s his turn to flush. “No, not at all! You can win- the water god favours you, after all.”

And although you shrug, his words stick. They always do.

Before you go home, you pass by Armin’s temple and place at the foot of his statue the remainder of your grandmother’s necklace.

A year ago:

Amrin knew how fickle the gods were and he thought that this knowledge made him impervious to those feelings. He watched how Eren jumped from woman to woman daily, how Reiner picked and chose his battles without a care, how every single fixation a deity would have never lasted more than a year. He thought of how stupid it was to spend a life of immortality indulging in such temporary pleasures. And he looked down on his kin for that very reason.

It was only after one argument too many that Armin finally let it slip. The god of the sea was usually quiet, offering soft smiles, casual conversation, and minimal conflict. That was his only rule: keeps quiet before the gods of the pantheon as he takes his anger out on the humans below. But that day, he forgot about his rule.

Maybe it was the years of silence that caused the Eathshaker’s outburst, or maybe it was just Eren’s bored expression as he talked about his mistresses in front of Mikasa. Armin couldn’t take it. Gathered at a marble table beside all the Olympians, he scowled and told them how stupid they all were.

“Don’t you realise? You’re all wasting your immortality by being so idiotic, so fickle! Everything you touch becomes a temporary pleasure, ruined by your inability to act like real gods.”

He should have stopped; he really should have stopped. But the crack in the glass bridge had been there for years, and now the shards of glass were dropping down into the sea. “You might as well be human!”

The room went silent. Eyes went wide, and mouths gaped, but the gods opted for silence. Every deity wanted to speak up, maybe even draw their swords, but they were more intelligent than Armin was in that moment, which was more unusual than one might think. He had never snapped so violently before. Armin may have been aggressive, but he knew his place. Knew when to be docile. Now, he felt like he could crumble Olympus itself with his rage and bury the Olympians with their dead parents.

The king of the gods, however, leaned forward. His emerald eyes were unmoving, devoid of emotion though his lips tilted into a monstrous grin.

“You’re just as fickle as the rest of us, brother,” was all Eren said.

When Armin lunged at him, knocking the fine glass off the table, it was Mikasa who pinned him down. Arms locked behind his back, all Armin could do was watch as mirth flooded Eren’s face, and the god of the sky laughed. The bastard laughed and laughed and licked the small wound on his hand from a shard of glass. It healed immediately. Even their pain was temporary.

And like he had been doing for the past millennia, Armin found solice in his only rule: if he couldn’t take out his rage on his brother, Armin would take out his frustration elsewhere.

His first instinct was to find a woman, but the thought of seeking out temporary pleasure, from a mistress no less, reminded him too much of Eren. So, he descended to earth, trident in one hand as the other gripped the reigns of his horse and they rode for three days and three nights. That’s all it took for the god of the sea to find what he was looking for- someone deserving of his hatred.

There are many humans like the merchant. But most of their hatred is silent. And when it’s not, blasphemy often falls upon deaf ears. The merchant just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time when his drunk rambles led him up on the deck screaming out Armin’s name like it was venom in his throat, until he could scream no more. He was drunk, but the merchant’s hatred for the god of the sea did not cease when he was sober.

And when Armin heard his name, the god wasted no time calling forth a storm to sink the merchant’s ship. He took care to ensure that the arrogant man watched each and every one of his men be swallowed whole, their bodies only resurfacing lifeless, before the storm calmed.

It took five days for the merchant to swim back to his island.

He never returned to the sea.

As the weeks passed, he relocated his home to help him stay away from any body of water and made sure that his family followed suit.

But Armin followed, and the merchant’s father died weeks later with saltwater water found in his lungs.  

Unfortunately, that was not enough to sedate the god of the sea’s need for vengeance. Fortunately, it was not enough to sedate the merchant’s hatred either. The hubris didn’t leave him. Instead, it just grew and grew and grew until the merchant considered himself more of a god than Armin would ever be.

“Oh, oh.” Armin couldn’t help but smile as he watched the man urinate before his temple. “This is perfect, so perfect.”

Armin was going to show his uncaring brother how different he was from the rest of the miserable Olympians. As he stood above the island of Paradis, golden hair blowing in the ocean wind, the god vowed to begin his Odyssey. An eternal Odyssey. A journey that would last longer than the ten fleeting years he had with the Greek hero- a journey that would last longer than the universe itself.

And he knew exactly where to begin. A man’s most valuable possession: his child.

It was only after your grandfather’s death that Armin noticed you. When he first began watching the merchant’s household, under the guise of either a guest or a bird, he had been surprised to learn that the blasphemous man had no wife, nor children. Armin only realised his mistake one night, when you came to lay a blanket on the drunk man’s barely conscious body. The merchant had pulled you towards him, muttering apologies and you had wrinkled your nose before offering him a soft smile. “It’s okay, papa”.

A daughter sheltered from the world, it seemed.

The god had initially thought you were one of the servants. There were only two in the house, and your tasks were all similar. But as Armin began to watch you closer, he saw how you did have a life outside your home with friends, interests, men- a life your father was blissfully unaware of.

The merchant hardly left home- playing the part of the sick man- and you took care of him- playing the part of your dead mother- in a happy sort of agreement.

You didn’t speak about it to your friends, but you detested your doting role. Armin could tell. The way you wrinkled your nose every time your father walked through the door, the eye-roll when you were given a load of laundry. The god couldn’t help by laugh at how pathetic the merchant was that not even his only daughter- his lifeline- cared for him. The merchant didn’t know, of course. Your fake smiles and gentle hands were enough to deceive him, keep him sane. But Armin was going to break that pattern.

The merchant didn’t deserve the care of a woman. He didn’t deserve anything. So, Armin was going to take you away from him.

His initial plan was to kill you. Simple, efficient, quick. And then he thought of dumping your body somewhere far so that the search for you would break your father’s spirit even more. He hesitated, though, he wasn’t sure why, but he did. And then, you changed your routine.

After meeting up with the two individuals you called your friends at the Sunday market- instead of going back home- you carried on walking. Through the houses on the outskirts and into the dense trees, you almost stung your sandal-clad feet twice before reaching a river. The river had no god of itself, but you still threw in an offering and muttered. Stupid human. And then you sat beside the river and- nothing. Your routine was boring, obviously a ritual to let you escape from reality. Yet, he couldn’t tear away from you. The woman at the river Shiganshina was a different one than the woman who served her father. The one here relaxed her shoulders, cursed at the world around her, smiled- albeit randomly but it was real. He decided there that he would kill you tomorrow.

But when, the next day, you led him back to the river, Armin was lost in you again. Lost in your honestly, lost in your need to escape. He wanted to see more, he needed to see more. Metaphorically, of course. But when you began undressing, the pleated robes dropping to reveal soft skin and tender curves, the god of the sea realised that he wouldn’t mind literally seeing more of you. Armin had been with goddesses and nymphs and, hell, even Aphrodite herself, but never had he been this awestruck. He had to hold himself back. Even though the way you were bathing made it seem like you were worshipping him, water dripping from your body, wet hair hiding the swell of your breasts. Armin’s breath stuttered. He couldn’t reveal himself. He couldn’t.

So, he watched, and watched. Trying desperately to take in everything you were from a distance. Armin didn’t count the number of times he visited you before finally decided that killing you was no longer an option. He told himself that his change of mind was progressive. A practical choice to draw out his revenge into the most painful and convoluted Odyssey. To do that, he couldn’t kill you. No. He was going to take you for himself. Armin was going to turn the daughter of the merchant into a servant of the one God he detested.

Putting the thought into your mind was pathetically easy. As you walked past his temple on your way home, an echo of laughter emerged from the marble building. You paused for only a moment, but it was enough for Armin to catch the look in your eyes. It was one of longing, mixed with a curiosity that threatened to pull you in. But you seemed to catch yourself in the act and hastened yourself home.

And so, Armin’s true Odyssey began. 

For his journey to progress, he had to meet you. Not as a bird or a horse or through glances as a guest. He had to meet you properly. This was the only way to draw you in, he told himself. The only way for you to submit completely and willingly.

Armin could have forced you too your knees, but he had to ensure that your father watched has his daughter chose Armin over him. And chose Armin you would. Every piece was in perfect place. The fates seemed to have woven a beautiful cloth of gold for the god of the sea.

What he failed to realise was that the cloth was in fact a snare- a trap which he will never be able to escape from.

Eleven months ago:

A short gust of wind had the pears in your thin basket tumbling down onto the rocky ground. You rushed after the fruit, crouching down to pick it up when a shadow appeared, and a hand reached out to pick it up for you. The sandal-clad feet were pale- paler than anyone living on this warm island and the robes a fine, ironed white. He somehow seemed to glow brighter than his clothes, and you purposefully let your fingers graze his as you picked up the fruit.

“Thank you,” you said, standing up.

You were hoping that he wouldn’t catch your staring. But even if he did, you couldn’t tear your eyes off him. He was lean, taller than you but not intimidatingly so and his eyes were like oceans that you found yourself staring into as he introduced himself as Mr Arlert. Just Mr Arlert. The new owner of the stables with a voice so soft, it took a moment before you remembered to introduce yourself.

“Y/N. And thank you, again.” It isn’t appropriate for an unmarried woman to be talking to a man on her own, but you couldn’t help but ask. “Do you have a first name Mr Arlert?”

His smile was contagious. “I do. But names are a powerful thing. I’m afraid I can’t give mine up freely.”

“Oh.” You scrunched your nose. “Can I pay for it then?”

You were dead serious, but the blond man laughed. How can someone look so pretty when they laugh? You wondered.

“I’m serious! I can pay you; name your price.”

Mr Arlert looked down at you, blue eyes twinkling. “I’ll think about it.”

“So, is that a no?”

“It’s a no, for now. One day I’ll tell you my name.”

He was sweet, so sweet, but you still gave him a sceptical frown, nose scrunching and eyebrows furrowing. Mr Arlert in turn gave you a sorry look before his eyes lit up and he pulled out from his brown satchel a small book of yellowed pages and a dusty blue cover, the gold embossing hardly visible. You nose only scrunched further.

“My name is in this story. It’s mentioned few times, but it’s an important one,” he said to you.

You took the book and flipped through the worn pages, immediately recognising the tale of Aphrodite and Ares. The lovers.

Why the challenge? You wanted to ask Mr Arlert but you knew the answer you your get would be too cryptic. Besides, you think, I like a challenge.

“How long do I have?” You asked instead.

“A year and a day.”

“And what will I get if I figure it out?”

At this, he pondered. But it seemed feigned, and you wondered, just for a split second, if the man had planned this from the beginning. But why? This was another one of your questions that went unanswered that day. Because before you could say anything more, Mr Arlert leaned forward and said, “Your reward will be divine”. And he walked away.

Nine months ago:

Life was well after Armin arrived. There was no other way to put it. Your father was confining himself to his room more often than before, and you were finding more opportunities to visit the river, leave the house and, eventually, you met the handsome baker’s son. Jean was kind, a gentleman, but not the arrogant type like most the men your age. You didn’t even feel too much guilt when you thought that spending a future with Jean- taking care of him and his home- wouldn’t be too bad. It’s quite pathetic that your life had been reduced to not being “too bad”, but the idea of marrying Jean sat on the comfortable line between reality and fantasy. Safety.

And then you were visited at the river.

Mr Arlert wasn’t even surprised to find you there, he had just smiled and sat beside you as you clenched your fists and forced yourself to smile back at him. You had always enjoyed him, his company, his challenges, but now it was like he was provoking you. The river Shiganshina was your river, your special place away from the hellscape that was the town. And now Mr Arlert had brought himself and his ordinary life into it.

You pulled your sandals back on, the crease in your brow evident. He clearly couldn’t get the hint. But before you could stand up, he spoke, and you paused.

“I wish I could jump in and swim away,” he said.

Curiosity got the best of you, as it often did with the man.

“The waterfall would kill you.”

The awkward laugh again. It had an effect on you so that your jaw couldn’t help but unclench. “If it means that I get to touch a waterfall, I wouldn’t mind, you know?”

You knew. You knew exactly what he meant. But you didn’t tell him.

“Didn’t take you as the suicidal type,” you said.

“I might get saved, who knows.”

“If you’re counting on me to jump after you, I’m letting you know I won’t.”

“I know,” he laughed. “I was thinking of more of a divine rescue.”

You finally looked at him, and- unsurprisingly- his blue eyes were glued to yours. What was surprising was his unwavering tone, his straight face. Mr Arlert was being serious. Why was he opening up to you this suddenly? So far, your interactions had consisted of him staring, you trying to guess his name, and him continuing to stare. In that order. You knew there was more to him, but it’s only now that you found yourself wanting to seek that out.

“You think Armin would save you?” You didn’t miss Arlert’s smile.

“I’m hoping I’ve gained his favour- done enough for him to allow me freedom via waterfall.”

It was your turn to smile. “You probably have, You’re at the temple often.”

“Thank you.” He blushed and you quickly pushed down the thought of how cute he looked. Sitting beside you, trousers rolled up and feet in the water, Mr Arlert looked more than cute. He looked like he belonged. You weren’t sure how that made you feel but, in that moment, you didn’t mind him entering your world.

“I think you would also be saved if you jumped into the waterfall,” Mr Arlert said.

You laughed. “Is that your way of saying I’m a nice person?”

“Something like that.” He paused. “I think Armin would appreciate your- uh- honesty. You’re like a priestess.” He laughs nervously at your expression. “You know, they have this personal affinity with the water and such.”

You knew exactly what he meant. How a stranger could read you so perfectly, you weren’t sure. But as you hid your smile between your hands, you wondered whether you were prepared to face the fear of the unknown. Maybe, with Mr Arlert, it would be a bit less unknown.

A few days later, Jean was announced missing. A search party was sent out and even Mr Arlert, on his recently acquired brown horse, couldn’t find him.

Present day:

Armin isn’t sure if he likes playing the part of the nice boy or not. Humans are simple creatures who praise him continuously and, without divine responsibilities, there is no need to take his rage out anywhere. But a god is who he is, and every day, he yearns to be seen as one. To be seen as one by you. He watches as you worship him, but you never look at him- not like you do the statues, or even the small river which you think is your only true connection to the god of the ocean.

You both want more, and you both know that, but you only ever admit it to each other when you sit beside that very river. There, in those moments, Armin feels a bit more like a god. Whenever he’s around you, he feels a bit more like a god.  

He’s told you before, but your perfect honesty has made it easy for him to unravel around you. He wants to unravel around you in other ways, too, and he wants you to unravel around him. Armin can’t count the number of times he’s sat beside you at the riverside and wanted to do nothing more than to kiss those lips of yours, to press the hard cock that he hides inside of you and watch as your eyes roll back, and you call out his name.  

But the God of the Sea is not Eren. Armin will earn you. And he’s very close to doing so. Not Mr Arlert. You have no interest in human men, that much is clear. You yearn for something more powerful. And you’re right. Only a god is worthy enough to stand beside you, lay between your legs, be in your arms. Mr Arlert is simply a means to push you to realising that the god in question is Armin.

In the meantime, he’s been nothing but patient.

It’s only when you come to his door one night, eyes puffy and red, that he lays his hands on you for the first time. He rubs your back as you cry and cry, fat tears refusing stop falling. You tell him about bout your father. About how, since he got better, he’s been refusing to let you out of the house, snapping at every moment and accusing you of being a filthy god-worshipper.

“He s-sai-d- he said we’re ‘gonna move away- said we’re gonna get as far away from the s-sea as possible.” You can hardly speak, though the tears have stopped, your voice still shakes violently. But Armin listens, he holds you close to him and repeats that everything is going to be fine.

You can’t stop thanking him as you leave, and he promises that his door is always open for you. “Whenever you call for me, I’m here,” Armin tells you. “Right beside you, always,” he adds as he watches you walk away.

He’s reached a new chapter of this Odyssey.

Present day:

You suppose your father’s death should have been expected. He was an old man, obviously depressed, and his only lifeline was his daughter who hated him.

You also suppose you should feel guilty. You don’t.

Familiar faces give their condolences and whisper questions of what is to happen to you now. You only pay heed to Sasha and Connie, though, who give you a soft hug before Sasha tells you that her family would be happy to take you in. You reassure her and everyone else that you have a plan, though your best friends are the only ones who seem to believe you.

“I heard Marie has a son who’s single, maybe they can-“

“You’re not actually talking about marriage here are you?”

“Well, the girl is all alone in the world, now! She needs a man to lead her on the right path.”

The old women are wrong, so very wrong. You don’t need a man. You’re fucking sick of men- sick of them all- everything they’ve created and everything they stand for.

What you need is a god.

The head priestess of Armin’s temple in unsurprised when you knock on her door with nothing but a bag and the clothes on your body. Those clothes are burned soon after, along with many of your other things, leaving your old life behind.

She tells you that you’re lucky there’s a place for you. The last priestess left running off with a man, “Which is a cardinal sin”, she makes sure to repeat every-so-often. The head priestess seems to hate men more than you do, sneering whenever Connie comes by.

Sasha and Connie are unsurprisingly shocked at your choice of work and even if they visit almost every day, they always tell you that they miss you. They think you’ve come the temple out of desperation- everyone does- and you let them believe. Because despite cleaning the marble floors or whatever other arduous duty you’ve been given, a smile is never far as you realise that you’re free from man. Indeed, explaining the truth to anyone would be far too difficult.

Well, except one person.

You’ve never missed anyone before. Not with your father keeping you so sheltered for most of your life. But as you push through the Head Priestess’ relentless schedule, you can’t help but miss Mr Arlert. He disappears after your father’s funeral, so you leave him a note at the empty stable with your final guess. You like to think he decided to follow his own path, you also like to think that he too wishes you were beside him, a guide in the unknown.

Present day:

The room is a box of marble, with a throne sat upon a dais at the centre and one fountain at every corner, each one sculped into a horse. The object of your interests, however, is the large bowl of water on the floor in front of the throne.

This is your initiation. You will emerge from this room not as an apprentice, but a Priestess.

You kneel down and lift the pot of clay to your lips. The head priestess kept on repeating how important it is to not put it down until you’re finished. So, you gulp the water down until you can see the image of Armin. You’re the one who selected the pot, with its faded paint depicting Armin and Hange’s fight for patronage of Sina. It’s a powerful image, but when you put the pot down, you come face to face with something very different. Armin is standing in a room-this room, you realise- and crouched down before him is a young woman, looking up in awe. It takes bit longer of a moment for you to realise that the woman is you.

Looking up slowly from the pot, the first thing you see is sandal-clad feet. Golden sandals, just as fine as the robes he wears, draped in perfect waves. The first word you think of to describe him is divine and it’s indeed accurate because-

“Mr Arlert.” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

But you know that’s not correct. The man- no, not a man- before you is taller than Mr Arlert, by a foot and a half at least. His muscles are more prominent that the stable boy’s ever were, strong legs visible through the large slit between the layers of fabric draped over the god’s figure. Half of his shoulder-length hair is tied back using a golden pin whilst the rest frames his perfect, perfect face. You can’t help but think that Armin looks nothing like his statues- no medium of art could capture the ocean within his eyes, glowing in the dull light of the room. Then again, the stories didn’t capture the way the god acts either.

“Armin,” you say, this time your voice louder.

Now, you know.

His sad smile is familiar, but there’s something there that never was. “Oh dear,” he says. “I’m afraid you’ve lost out wager.”

Armin can’t help but compare you to a puppy, with large eyes staring up at him from your crouched position and an expression a perfect mix of excitement, curiosity, and shock.

You reach out a hand tentatively, but it hovers in the air between the two of you once you notice Armin’s raised brow. But he doesn’t rebuke you for it. After all, it’s only your first encounter with the god. He can’t expect you to behave perfectly, to adopt the right etiquette- no, he’ll have to train you first. Like he would a baby mutt. The thought makes him smile.

“I’ll accept any consequences, my god,” you say. Your voice sounds so sure of itself, so unlike your usual ramblings, those that Armin could and would listen to for hours. Right now, though, the certainty, it’s laced with desire that sends blood rushing south. You don’t notice. You’re too lost in his eyes to notice anything.

When he places his hand on your chin to hold it up, he can feel you shiver. “Such a perfect little worshipper,” he says. “I couldn’t possibly punish you.”

Armin can swear he sees disappointment in your eyes before he turns around and walks up the dais. The marble of the throne is cold beneath him, but the sight of you looking up at him with such longing is enough to warm him up. Now, Armin is sure you’ve noticed his growing erection because you crawl towards the dais, not yet climbing it, but close enough to see and lick your lips.

“Let me thank you at least, Armin.” He almost groans at the sound of his name. God, he wants to hear you say it over and over.

“Come here.”

And you climb up the dais only to pause before Armin leans forward and grabs your hips. Two lips, as if led by an invisible string, meet. You kiss like you’ve been waiting years for Armin and, in a way, you have. His tongue is inside your mouth quickly and he’s kissing, sucking, letting his teeth gently graze your lips as he revels in the feeling of you. As your bodies lean against each other, you can feel his heart hammering against your own. His chest is stone, but his lips are so soft and your hands find his golden hair. It’s also softer than it looks, and Armin can’t help but let out a moan as you gently tug.

When you pull back, his pupils are blown. “Thank me, then,” Armin says, breathless.

Sitting between his legs, your hand is tiny compared to his cock, and you can’t stop staring at it. Long and somewhat slender, but veiny with a flushed red top- he can see you gulp before you take an experimental lick at him. Armin’s hold on your hair only tightens and you look up at him, doe eyed and seemingly innocent.

“Put it in your mouth, pretty girl,” he says, guiding your head gently. “So obedient- Yes, exactly, just like-ah- just like that.”

But he doesn’t need to push down- no- he lets you set your own pace only because you do it so perfectly, almost as perfect as the wet noises you make. Armin doesn’t have time to be surprised, he’s just able to react fast enough to suppress his own moans so he can hear your wet tongue caress the base of his cock, as your lips create the perfect o-shape to accommodate him. Your drool is everywhere in a matter of seconds- his balls are coated with it, and so is your lap, where the spit seeps through the thin white fabric you call a robe.

“Like a puppy,” he murmurs. And you look up quizzically. “You’re drooling over me like a desperate puppy- a puppy in heat,” he grunts. “You just want to please me, don’t you? ‘S alright, puppy, I’ll let you do that.”

If you could nod your head, you would. Instead, your cheeks burn, and Armin is so lost in the way that you look- not even able to take his entire cock in his mouth- that his hips begin to buck unconsciously. He hits the back of your throat, and you gag at the sudden impact, but he hisses and murmurs “What a good, wet hole. So good, good-”

The earthshaker is afraid that if he speaks any louder, his voice will slur into incomprehensible sultry sounds. But as you struggle to take his cock even deeper into his mouth, he lets out groans that go straight between your own legs. You moan around him, and the reverberations make his head roll back. God, you could stare at him forever. And he would let you.

“Look at me,” he says whenever your eyes go astray. “Look at your god.”

As his hips buck more violently, Armin can feel the pressure in his lower stomach, the impending orgasm and he wants to stop- wants to hold out the way he always has. But he can’t, it’s too much and he just cannot pull out of you. He simply pushes further and further into your tight throat, repeating your name like it’s a blessing. “fuck, puppy, ‘m going to- I’m going to cum down your throat. You want that, do you you’re your god’s cum- ah, fuck, ahhh”-

Pushing your head down to the base, both of his hands at the back of your head, Armin cries out you name and you can feel the warm liquid go down your throat, thick ropes filling up your mouth, some of it dribbling out. Armin reflexively pushes it back in your mouth, ordering you to swallow it all, to show how grateful you are. Of course, you oblige. But before you can even regain your breath, Armin suddenly pulls you off his cock. His pupils are dilated, and he wears an expression- anger? Shock?

“You’re not a virgin,” he hisses, teeth gritting against each other. His breath is frantic, uneven. It’s not a question and you begin to recognise his expression. Rage. “You’ve done this before.”

Fuck.

The God of the sea has his fair share of consorts and mistresses. Some of them virgins- though he never chases them the way Eren does- some of them not, but none have made him cum so fast. He would like to blame it on the year of pining, of restraint, but he knows better. It’s you. You do this him. You make him so wild, so willing, so pliant even. 

In that moment, as he looks your worried face, so desperate to please, he thinks that he’ll never be able to let it go. You’ve consumed Armin and he wants to do nothing more than burn eternally. You must understand that- that you exist as his beacon, that’s where you’ll be your happiest, but those thoughts are too complex for a human. You, in your fragile state, can’t understand. It’s alright, he’ll just have to show you bit by bit that you’re his. But to do so, he must first take on the role he’s familiar with. That of the punisher.

“Who is he?” Armin snaps.

“It was only-“

“Who is he?”

You pause. Memories of nights spent together, huddled close and trying to keep quiet already fading. “Berthrolt Hoover.”

Armin’s shoulders relax, “I see.”

His breathing slowly goes back to normal, and, at the back of your mind, you know you’ve signed the young warrior’s death. But your worry is fleeting as Armin grabs you by the neck and hoists you over his knees, laying you down on your stomach effortlessly. “A priestess who isn’t a virgin?”

You look up as see Armin’s familiar sweet smile, but it’s laced with mirth that makes you forget the Mr Arlert he was before. You cry out at the first slap of his hand on your ass, more out of surprise than pain.

“I don’t think the people of Paradis will be very happy to hear that,” he says. “An unmarried woman giving herself away to a pathetic boy.”

Slap!

“I’m sorry!” you cry out. “It was a mis-”

He slaps you thrice.

“No excuses, dumb little puppy. I’m afraid you’ll have to endure this punishment.” His voice is deceptively soft, as if he is actually sorry. And when you look back up at Armin, his face betrays no malice. But it doesn’t show any cruelty either. Instead, there’s a fascination.

Armin has you sprawled across his lap, at his mercy and he is discovering you bit by bit. As a god. His cock twitches and then suddenly he tugs off the fabric of your robes and they disappear.

The way you squirm is half- hearted, and Armin has to laugh. “Embarrassed? Now of all times? I didn’t know you were such a prude. Or is this all just to compensate for the fact that you’re a whore in my temple?”

You shake your head, “I swear, I’ve never belonged to any man!”

Fingers trace the expanse of your naked body, soft enough to send shivers down your spine. “Oh? Really?”

“Yes yes, I swear, ah!” His fingers find your naked ass and they grab onto the flesh, massaging, groping, feeling you. Armin’s other hand rests on top of your head, stroking it gently and you’re so lost in his touch that you almost forget to speak.

“I belong to no man, I never have. Only you. It’s always been you, Armin.”

The god’s eyes widen, and he gently pulls you up from his lap only to seat you on it, upright and, this time, there’s so much more to admire. “You’re right,” he says. Armin captures your lips and this time, it’s longer, rougher. He doesn’t want to pull back, doesn’t want to lose the feeling of your soft lips against his, but his hands have already found your breasts and soon, his tongue joins them. You moan as he begins to lap at your breasts, leaving hickeys and spit in his wake as his finally finds your nipples and begins sucking them like a child as you whine and lean into him.

“You do belong to me,” he finally says, his voice partially muffled as he loses himself in the worship your breasts. “You’ve always belonged to me.”

And you can do nothing more than nod your head as your fingers tangle in Armin’s hair and you’re pulled into another kiss. His hand goes down your body, squeezing every single mound of flesh as if it needs to be touched so that when he finds your cunt, Armin can’t help but smile at how wet you are.

“Already, but I’ve hardly done anything to you?”

What a liar, but you don’t have a chance to tell him before he plunges a finger inside of you. “Oh, puppy, my puppy,” he groans at the contact the same time you moan, pushing your hips against his digits. “You like my fingers like that inside of you?”

“Yes, yes, I do, I really love them- it feels, oh my god, it feels too good!” you grip his shoulders, unable to do anything but desperately buck your hips at the smiling Armin. He knows what he’s doing, he knows that his fingers are giving you just that satisfaction, but it’s still not enough to bring you over the edge.

“Please Armin, please.” You squeeze his shoulders.

“Tell me what you want, tell me, I’ll give it to you- I swear.”

“I want to feel you, all- ah- all of you. I need to feel you inside of me!”

You’re not sure at which moment Armin removes his robes, but as he moves both of your legs so that you’re straddling him, your hands are on his bare, lean chest. The god’s nipples are flushed pink and pert, practically calling to you and you respond by brushing your fingers over them and watching him twitch ever-so-slightly in response. You withhold the urge to take them into your mouth, even as Armin rubs his cock against your cunt, releasing the sweetest of sounds.

He’s already leaking precum and it mixes with your juices so perfectly, his cock being dragged back and forth, only making you gush even more. “So messy,” he mumbles as he uses his tip to spreads your juices across your thighs. At this point, you can practically feel it throbbing, ready to be sheathed inside of you and the whimpers of your desperation echo against the temple walls.

When Armin slips inside of you, simultaneous gasps escape your lips. The god pulls your body closer to his as you throw your head back, stars in your eyes.

“Look,” he whispers. “Look how easily I slip in- it’s- it’s like your cunt is made for me.”

“Armin,” you whisper back. “Armin, Armin- ah- Armin.”

He sinks you down slowly, the stretch hitting every single spot that leaves your legs practically limp. The god is holding you up, whispering his own mantra that you can’t hear over your bliss. Once inside, your eyes look lock with Armin’s and he’s staring at you in a way he’s never done before. You’ve never seen pupils so dilated and the two of you stay like that as if making up for the moments when you should have been connected in this way. An eternity, it seems, the two of you have needed each other.

“I’m your god,” Armin finally says. “I’m your god and- hng ah-” He begins moving you up and down his shaft. “And I’m going to make you cum all over this cock- okay? All over your god’s cock.”

You nod your head pathetically as he lifts your hips and slams them down against his own. He is strong, ruthless in the way he bucks his hips up every time he lifts you from his cock, as if he can’t bare the empty feeling of not having your tight pussy clamped around him. At this relentless pace, you’re sure that the sound of your connecting bodies could penetrate even these marble walls. And yet, you don’t hold back. Thanks and praises spill from your swollen lips and Armin can’t help but lean forward and push his tongue between your mouth, as if he can absorb all of your word. “So good, so good, it’s- uah- I just want more, more of your cock, you fill me up so good!”

Armin can’t deny you. He pushes your thighs to your chest and picks up your entire body to fuck himself. He manoeuvres your body like a toy and as your tongue rolls out and your eyes become glassy, you begin to look like one too. The only sounds coming out of your mouth are incomprehensible, even as Armin attaches his mouth to one of your bouncing tits, you can only squeal.

“Such a good puppy,” he says between kisses. “Letting me use her holes like this. A god using a puppy’s holes- you should be- you should be grateful! Tell me, tell me you’re grateful!”

“I am!” you cry out. “I am grateful!”

“Good girl, good puppygirl.”

When Armin flips you over, you’re sat on his throne and he fucks into you harder, harder than he was doing before, and you swear his moans are louder too. He’s looking down at the movement of your stomach as if hypnotized by the way his cock disappears into you. And, in a way, he is. The fascination of being inside of you- just the idea even- is enough to make him want to cum.

The sudden position has him hitting new spots and the build-up is so fast, you hardly have the time to warn him. “Armin, Armin I’m cum-“

He grabs your face as you release around his cock, body spasming but unable to look away as Armin’s gaze burns through you. “Good girl,” he says. “Show me, show me how you cum. Just like that, just like that.”

He continues to plough his hips into yours and the spasms of your pussy leave him unable to hold back. “Inside of you,” he practically growls. “I’m going to cum inside of you- yes, yes, yes I am puppy. I’m going to cum inside of you and you’re going to show me how you take it yeah?”

You’re too far gone to even register the implications of what he’s saying, but he buries his cock in your warm walls and releases his cum inside of you with a heavy groan. “Just like that, just like that- I’m going to fill you up with my seed, puppy, my puppy.”

Armin feels like he’s emptied his balls- two powerful orgasms which leave his legs shaking violently. And yet, he pulls out of you slowly and stands back up to his full height, cock in front of your face. Almost instinctively, you rub your cheek against it, giving Armin soft kitten licks and he coos at you, stroking your hair. But he doesn’t push, he just holds his cock there and pumps softly as he stares at your fucked out face. Messy, covered in his spit, his hickeys, his bites, his cum- you look perfect, divine. Only one thing is missing. “I’m going to give you everything I have, puppy. And you’re going to take it, okay?” You nod and open your mouth for him and, immediately, a strong stream of pee emerges.

At the bitter taste on your tongue, your eyes roll back, and you spread your legs even wider, a welcome to the mess he is about to make. Armin accepts and angles his cock to release his pee over your chest, then your stomach, and then your already-throbbing cunt. He lifts a foot to rest on the throne and Armin doesn’t think he’s even seen such a beautiful sight in his life.

As if guided by an implicit will, Armin’s foot hovers on top of you and suddenly, he presses against your lower stomach. Your eyes snap back into focus as you whine out for him to wait, wait just a moment “I just had water,” you cry out. “It’s gonna- It’s gonna come out!”

But Armin simply grins. “Let it come out,” he says and presses his foot down harder. “Pee yourself dumb little mutt, be a good puppy for your owner.” The trickle that emerges is involuntary, but Armin’s grin is wider. “Yes, good girl, just like that. Let me see more, let me see more of you.”

The pressure that was holding the bowl of water back broke and you felt the warm liquid against your thighs before you realise what’s happening. Armin practically moans as he watches you whimper and struggle to hold your pee back as it spreads over the throne, the dais, and even Armin himself. He doesn’t stop until you’ve given it all to him.

You expect Armin to disappear. 

You’ve given him everything. His goal is complete, you think, he has nothing more to do with you. But, as he has done many times before, the god surprises you. Armin’s body is heavy against yours when he collapses on top of you, but the weight is comforting. Despite the malaise of urine and cum rubbing against both of your bodies, you wrap your arms around the god of the ocean and hold him close. 

Even as you close your eyes and lean your head back on the marble throne, Armin doesn’t leave you. Even as you open your eyes back up and see blue ones staring back at you, the look he gives you is so familiar and long hair in such unfamiliar disarray that you can’t help but smile.

He doesn’t ask why. Instead, Armin calls forth a stream of warm water from the adjacent fountain to clean the both of you. It feels like a fever dream the way floating droplets caress your bodies, and when Armin stands you up, his hands not leaving you, the perfume that suddenly envelops you is heavenly.

“Can I give you a last kiss, please?” you ask when your robe appears once again. And Armin leans forward to capture your lips, dragging his tongue on your bottom lip as if to taste you.

It doesn’t feel like a final kiss. You’ve had many of them- Jean, Sasha, Berthrold, your father, and even your mother, though you can’t remember it. This kiss is different. It feels less like a kiss and more like a promise, a vow. a shiver runs down your spine. 

“I am your god,” he says and lifts his both of his hands slowly to wrap around your neck. “And you’re my worshipper.” You gasp as a cold sensation spreads around your neck, just below Armin’s fingers. It’s sudden, and heavy and when he removes his hands, yours fly to your neck and there’s a metal band there where there was none before.

“It’s sculpted from Hephaestus’ gold,” Armin says as he strokes his fingers along the metal. But he’s not looking at his gift, instead he looks at you. 

“Armin- I- this is. But why?”

For the first time, he can’t read your expression. But it doesn’t matter. You belong to him. You always have, but now you know. And if it takes time for you to understand, Armin can wait. He’ll wait right beside you, always, always there to guide you.

“This is not the end of my Odyssey. My Odyssey is eternal,” he says before giving you another short kiss and disappearing, the warmth of his lips still present.

The gods might not all be fickle, you think, so you just smile sadly. But the gods are all selfish, so you touch the collar around your neck.

A/N: This is my first ever collab and I was- as still am- a bit insecure about how this story turned out so I appreciate all of your support ❤️. I would also like to apologise to my fellow history nerds for the historical inaccuracies. 

[bchanslvr]

better turn of events // d.m x fem!reader

word count - 2k

warnings - deepthoarthing/blowjob, pet names, degrading, sort of brat!reader, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, neck kissing, begging, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, breeding kink, fluff and nipple play (not proof-read)

summary - giving draco a blowjob in an alcove but it turns into something better that leaves you not being able to stand properly for a while

a/n - happy birthday blondie <3

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

glimmering eyes were wet with tears. lashes fluttering close, lips swollen and wet. cheeks tinted and stained with salty eyewater, and mouth full of draco.

you were both hidden from all sights; in an unknown alcove in a dark corridor at hogwarts, were you were giving him a blowjob.

his chest heaved, head thrown back, as his fingers tugged harshly at your curls.

you sucked him like you were starving, tongue coming up to lick the ever-flowing pre-come from his sensitive slit. working your mouth all the way to the base once again, delighted in the sharp inhale above him.

draco let out a shuddering breath, "fuck. i knew that mouth of yours must be good for something"

you could only whine softly, mouth already occupied.

"what was that? want me to fuck your mouth?," the pale fingers in your hair tightening.

you bucked forwards, a moan leaving your mouth only describable as yes.

"yeah? want me to fuck that pretty mouth of yours? till your sobbing and sore?"

you bucked again, moaning loudly as you sucked on his head. the vibrations of your lewd sound sent shocks up draco's spine till he was groaning loud, thankful that he remembered to place a silenco.

"oh fuck y/n," he rasped out as he grabbed a fist-full of your hair.

"stay still for me—good girl," he began thrusting into your mouth almost immediately, speeding up the pace gradually till he was hitting the back of your throat over and over again.

fucking his cock into your mouth with a speed that could only be known as cruel. tears welling up in your pretty eyes, that spilled down like waterfalls. your hands obediently placed on your lap, aching cunt so close but you didn't move a muscle.

draco's erratic thrusts increased, he breathed as if he'd ran a hundred miles and back, hips never stopping as he continued to hit the back of your throat over and over again.

loud profanities left his mouth, his nails scratching your sensitive scalp, electing another sweet moan from your spit-licked lips.

and that was all it took. he let out an almost animalistic growl as he shoved his prick as far as he could down your throat. flooding your senses with his release, to which you greedily swallowed. some leaking out your mouth.

he pulled out his softening length, breath ragged, and eyes closed shut as he tried to catch his bearings.

and once he did, he thought he'd finish a second time right there. you looked utterly beautiful. so delectable and gorgeous down on your knees for him.

your eyes were still glimmering, the tears drying against your blushed cheeks, lips undoubtedly swollen red, his release still evident in the corners of your turned lips.

you were panting hard, trying to catch your own breath. struggling to stand up again after being on your knees for so long.

but once you did, you wiped away the evidence of this whole encounter with your wand, face no longer burning, lips normal, breathing calm, and hair well kept like it had when you brushed it this morning.

you looked at draco and smirked. lips turning up to a sharp smile as you dropped down to pick up your book bag once more. you tried to make your way out before draco grabbed your wrist,

"where do you think you are going? i'm not done with you yet," he said, the hand on your wrist loosened but instead he cornered you against the wall of the alcove, blocking you from the entrance.

you merely smiled, "well, potions starts in a few minutes and if i don't get going now i'll be late, and snape will lecture me and detention" you said, ever the tease you were.

imaging how good he'd use you later if you left him hanging right were he was now.

draco laughed, "since when did you care about being late?," he asked, his breath tickling your cheek.

"since now," you said cheekily.

"well that's too bad, because i'm still fucking you against this wall till you're screaming my name"

"hmmmm, not feeling it right now sorry," you said maneuvering away from your boyfriend's grip.

"oh?," draco's face turned into a confused frown. hands locking themselves around your hips to stop you from leaving once again.

"did i do something wrong?," he asked pouting. cock already filled and pressing against your abdomen.

"no dray, you didn't do anything wrong"

"then what's up?"

"well it's⎯"

before you could answer you were interrupted by his lips on yours, a gasp leaving your own as he bit down non-too gently on your bottom lip.

his tongue penetrating your mouth and swallowing all your sounds. you couldn't help it as your book bag dropped to the floor, hands automatically looping themselves around his neck. pulling him impossibly closer.

you both broke apart for air, panting as you looked into each other's eyes. he smirked as he said "well someone doesn't mind this too much now does she?"

you felt your skin heating up against his lust-filled glare, arousal pooling in your panties all over again. you whined languidly as you buried your face in his shoulder mumbling softly, "fuck off".

he chuckled as his hands made quick work of your button-up that was soon on the floor like the rest of your layers in quick-session.

his hands were all over you, gently teasing every area of skin he found.

"you're so pretty," he murmured as his hands finally moved behind your back to unclasp your bra. licking his lips as he let it fall to the ground. hands immediately kneading the soft, warm flesh of your tits.

your moaned softly as his fingers brushed against your perked nubs, one hand twisting and pulling as the other made it's way south.

he launched himself onto your left nipple hungrily, sucking gently as he pulled it with his teeth.

his other hand reaching your soaked panties as he pressed hard were your clothed clit was. you moaned loudly, head tilted back as he continued sucking. fingers now rubbing the area softly, making you soak your underwear further.

you pulled your bottom lip under, brows scrunched in pleasure as he made you feel over the edge already. the fast figure eights on your cunt, and the mouth on your nipple not helping your fast-approaching orgasm.

"f-fuck, so close dray. so close," you whimpered. breathing hard as your eyes rolled back.

he could feel your walls clench under him, your body twitching in the process.

but just as you began to be drowned in pleasure he pulled away, leaving you and your cunt aching. a dry sob escaping your lips as you finally opened your eyes to look at him.

really look at him; his hair a mess, pupils blown wide, and lips wet saliva.

"draco please," you whined. hips bucking as you chased after his hands again.

"what do you want darling? tell me," he murmured against your lips as he began shedding himself of his own clothes, starting with his pants.

"want you dray, oh want you so bad"

"yeah? my pretty baby wants me so bad? hm? so desperate for my cock aren't you, you pathetic whore."

you whimpered as he revealed his pale white skin, so smooth and beautiful. he looked like a greek statue. like he was craved from zeus himself. his perfectly sculptured jawline, his hard chest, his ocean blue eyes, his silky soft hair. he was perfect.

you got lost in counting the small freckles on him that you didn't notice when his cock began rubbing itself on your still clothed cunt.

he noticed of course, smiling proudly of himself as he hooked two fingers under your chin to make you look at him.

"my eyes are up here sweetheart," he said. smiling as his hand jerked him off slowly. "i love you," you whispered. a smile of your own blossoming on your face as he attacked your mouth once more.

kissing you soundly as he mumbled a i love you too against your lips as his hands made their way to pull your panties off of you.

your lifted your legs as he pushed it down to the floor, finally able to look at you at your fullest and merlin were you a sight for sore eyes.

he couldn't remove them from your glistening cunt, eyes clouded with lust as he dragged two fingers through your wet folds.

thumb caressing your clit as he pushed the two digits in you gently. your wet entrance spasming around him.

"no draco, oh please i'm ready. i want you please please," you begged as he pumped his fingers in you too slowly for your liking.

draco hummed as he continued torturing you with his fingers, free hand holding your hips down.

"draco," you whined as his fingertips brushed your g-spot. thighs shaking as you welcomed his lips on your neck.

his soft lips grazing your tender skin, leaving gentle kisses as he sucked on your soft spot. no doubt leaving a hickey for you to hide later.

his hot breath fanning across your cheek as he kissed you again. tongue begging for entrance against your bottom lip till you let it.

nimble fingers inside you never stopping their ministrants as you continued to beg and sob.

"pleasepleasepleaseplease," a long string of curses leaving your lips as his fingers assaulted your sensitive spot.

"you look so pretty like this. spread out on my fingers. i can't wait to shove my cock inside you and fill you full with cum," he breathed.

"then do it. do it please, i beg you. i need you inside me draco. please i need you so fucking bad," you cried. desperate with need.

his patience finally breaking as he let out a quite growl. removing the fingers in you.

before you could whine at the loss you felt the head of prick rubbing up and down your wet pussy.

"is this what you want? for me to stuff you fill with my cock and cum?"

"fuck⎯yes yes yes yes," you begged as your wetness dripped down your thighs.

"look at you. so desperate for my cock. you're such a needy little whore. my needy little whore"

and with that, he pushed himself all the way inside you in a single thrust. you cried out as he bottomed fully inside of you. his own breath out of control as both his hands held onto your hips.

"up," he commanded as you jumped up enough to wrap your legs around his waist. heels digging into his back.

"good girl. you ready?," he asked as he pulled out all the way till only his tip was surrounded by your heat.

you nodded, all your words caught in your throat. and once he got the queue he slammed into you. your head hitting the wall behind you as your eyes rolled back.

you moaned loud and clear as he began thrusting at a brutal pace. your breath coming out in sharp inhales and exhales as your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving pretty, angry red cresent moons on his skin.

he groaned as he felt your walls clench around him, "so tight for me dove. so fucking good for me," he said mindlessly as he continued fucking you in big hard thrusts.

"oh fuck fuck fuck fuck!," you moaned over and over as his fingers were on you once more. rubbing vigorously on your swollen clit.

he moaned low when you tightened around him. burring his face in your neck as his thrusts grew harsher.

your high was fast-approaching once more with the hand on your clit, his cock stuffing you full and the soft groans and praises in your ear.

"dray so close, 'm gonna cum," you screamed as you screwed your eyes shut in pleasure.

"shit⎯i'm so close too baby," he said. light-headed with your hot velvet walls clenching around his throbbing prick tighter.

"cum with me baby, cum with me. cum around my cock as i stuff you full with my seed," he mumbled.

your yes coming out in your endless stream of babbles. both your breathing shaking as he slammed his hips onto yours over and over. your legs trembling as your mouth fell open in a perfect "O" as blinding pleasure over came you.

"i'm cumming dray! oh fuck i'm cumming, draco!" you cried as you came with his name on your lips.

his hips stuttered as he shoved himself as deep as he could, spilling his seeds into you. stuffing you full on him. "y/n-" he groaned as he finished himself in you completely.

the both of you staying still for a few minutes to catch your bearings. your head dropping onto his shoulder in exhaustion.

"fuck that was amazing baby, you did so well. such a good girl f'me so good for me. i love you so much," he said. murmuring into your hair, as he inhaled your scent.

"i love you more dray, so much more. you were so good, so nice and full now," you mumbled into him as he gently coaxed your legs of his hips to let you stand.

softened cock slipping out your wet hole as he stood back. groaning as he watched his cum drip out of your abused pussy.

"so good for me," he comforted as he fished for his wand in the clothes laying on the ground. eventually finding it and casting a strong cleaning spell that got rid of the cum, sweat and after smell.

helping you put on your now rumpled clothes as you fixed yourself. draco doing the same as he adjusted his tie.

you bent down to throw your book bag over your shoulder once more. legs shaking as you attempted to stand without falling over.

he chuckled as he helped you up fully. your brain trying to process everything and trying to remember of the events that were supposed to happen instead of being railed against a wall till you can't stand properly.

and that's when you remembered potions, shit. you cursed. class must be over now, what were you going to say to an absence now?

he seemed to understand what you were thinking as he snickered, "not funny draco," you said grumpily as you hit his shoulder playfully.

"yeah yeah, it's okay i'll figure out something to tell him don't worry"

you smiled as you pecked him on the cheek, "fine, let's go now come on"

your fingers lacing his with his hands as you pushed open the door. the light of the evening almost blindly you as you breathed in fresh-air. a soft sigh leaving your lips as you squeezed his hand.

"i'm still mad at you you know," you said as you glared at him.

"for what? you enjoyed yourself immensely don't lie," he said smirking.

"don't act so cocky malfoy. you won't get this again if you do," you said harshly.

"okay okay i'm sorry. not really," you smacked him on the head for that.

"ouch! fine! i'll take you to my dorm, and i'll run us a bath, and get you your favorite snacks and we can cuddle? truce?," he asked as he smiled cheekily down on you.

a bath, snacks and cuddles did sound really nice right now. "fine." you replied simply. watching as he let out a relived sigh.

"let's go then," he said. lacing his fingers through yours again.

"okay," you said smiling. he gave you a small peck on the forehead before dragging you back to his dorm for a well deserved night.

today was sure a lot of fun, but you couldn't wait to be in his arms and surrounded by his warmth. the feeling of being so thoroughly loved by a person lingering on your skin and mind as you drifted of to sleep in his bed.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

draco taglist - @hey-there-angels @dracomalfoys-wh0re @alexavolturisblog @chokemepansy @sfdlm @pinkandblueblurbs @4kweasley @helleli @justreadingficsdontmindme

[liyuesbian]

✧ pygmalion!au [ningguang]

notes: btw idk how commissions from museums work i just made the process up LMAO and this one's kinda angsty? i mean, it is the pygmalion greek myth so iykyk. also, i describe this figurine of ningguang here but w/o the colour... i've linked it in case any1 needs the reference. (btw, this is not set in ancient greece specifically)

only yesterday had you been commissioned by an art gallery in the capital to create a piece for their up-and-coming collection titled desire, love and identity. yet here you are, slaving away to make the perfect image you had in your head come into fruition. your vision is exquisite once sketched on paper—you can't find any faults in it so you take the risk.

as soon as your chisel meets the marble, a feeling so invigorating dominates your body. no further references are necessary as you place your trust entirely on your hands, coarse from the labour. you find such mindless toil addicting and you work day and night, only stopping for a half-baked meal and the odd collapse into bed.

for months, love streams out of the tips of your fingers and through your sculpting tools to arrive at the stone figure. you sincerely hope the intimate emotion has been reached.

when you finish, you wipe the bead of sweat running down your forehead, rest the other palm on your hip and take slow steps backwards all while maintaining eye contact with the statue. a wave of sweet relief hits you and you fall to the floor, uncontrollably sobbing into tired hands that still grip the hammer and chisel.

it's beautiful.

you stagger, struggling to get up with your bruised knees while clumsily wiping the tears off your stained cheeks. setting the instruments aside, you lift your head to admire your handiwork up close. a woman made of stone sits elegantly atop an oriental chair, crossing her smooth, white legs over each other. her left elbow is propped on the arm of the chair while on the other side, a long smoking pipe is balanced between gloved fingers. around her lies an assortment of objects: a vase containing scrolls, a floor lamp, and a charmingly decorated folding screen.

you see, you had already thought it all out. you'd imagined ningguang's preferences for a life of luxury, her affinity for constructing and sprucing up interiors. she would be a master of the trades and a woman who likes to keep an air of mystery around her. and like how you increasingly project her to be more of a person than she ever will be, there is a creeping concern in the corner of your mind that you will lose your rationality just as quickly.

the sculpture's body is clad in a qipao with a slit that reveals alabaster skin below the waist. the dress—embellished with patterns and neat linings—hugs her figure and shows off a lean build. the extensive train and sleeves of the fabric are shaped curvaceously to mirror the flow of a waterfall. and her face. the section you strived so hard to refine. she stares at you with an imperious expression and a hint of a smirk. her gaze, so piercing, makes you avert your eyes in shyness but you find yourself gravitating back to her profile.

you muster up the courage to draw closer to your creation and unconsciously stroke her cheek with your thumb, captivated. if she were an empress, you'd be a common peasant—undeserving of setting your sights on such a goddess. you can feel your soul being sucked into eyes devoid of emotion—of anything, actually. after all, the woman sitting before you is not a person but an inanimate object.

the weeks following the completion of ningguang—which is the name you've picked up the habit of calling her—are spent in said lady's company. every minute of every day, you surround yourself with her presence as if she is your closest friend. you eat with her, tell her your troubles, even going so far as to decorate her with various types of jewellery and bringing her gifts you think she'd like.

"thank you," you whisper. "for always listening to me." in truth, you're always so immersed in your work that you forgot what conversations could feel like. though, you fear your art would never be on par with something so transcendent ever again.

you become curious, wondering what she would be like if the nymph in front of you were not just a figment of your imagination.

you perch yourself on top of ningguang's stone-cold lap and trace the contours of her visage. you inspect each crease on her lips and the minuscule crinkles in her eyes, applauding yourself for the well-crafted details. you don't know what possesses you but you close your eyes and press your lips against hers, hoping that once you open them, a living being would erupt from underneath the marble. but, of course, as soon as the light hits your retinas, ningguang is as unmoving as ever.

realising what you've just done, you drop off of her thighs and laugh anxiously. however, you could've sworn that you had felt warmth in the lips of your beloved muse.

"i've finally gone mad!" you cry aloud.

hell, you say to yourself, is it even possible to fall in love with such an... an artefact? you dismiss your glaringly obvious infatuation.

"nonsense," you mutter under your breath, sensing your heart breaking slightly. how can something so painfully humanlike also not be human at the same time? you must've caused a tremendous atrocity in your past life to have made the gods harbour a grudge against you. of all things, you'd never have guessed that a lifeless piece of art would be the object of your desire.

you can't bear to look at the handcrafted lady any longer and with an anguished face, cover her with a large cotton cloth. the plan was to wait until you could hand the statue over to the curators and try to ignore its existence until then.

for a few days, you act according to the plan, going about your daily routine but eventually, your stoic demeanour crumbles. you lock yourself in your room refusing to eat or believe that your affection would never be returned.

during the hours of sunlight, you weep under your sheets, drowning in self-inflicted sorrow. and at night, you do the same, lamenting over the loss of what could've been your true love. she would've been so perfect in your eyes, your other half, and the only one who could calm this growing turmoil!

the reality pains you. hence, you do the only thing you can do: you pray. you pray to the gods for a miracle, that the light of your life would stride into your room and pull you from the depths of despair... but she never does.

your last day "cohabitating" with the sculpture has arrived and for the first time in—what felt like—an eternity, you open the doors to your workshop. taking a deep breath, you unveil the stationary maiden.

it's still as beautiful as you remember.

you give it a sad smile, wanting to get its departure over and done with. you manoeuvre about the room to prepare the things for the movers who're due to come in a couple of hours. while you go down your little list of errands to be done, you cough and bat away the smoke—wait, the smoke? frantic, you spin around, eyes darting everywhere in search of its origin until they land on the smoking pipe you so intricately moulded for the commissioned piece.

it's strange, you don't recall colouring the statue. and how on earth is smoke coming out of the pipe? suspicious, you approach the motionless entity and almost stumble when you spot its chest rising.

oh lord! — i really must be descending into madness! you clutch your head, clawing at your hair in hysteria.

"stop, please don't hurt yourself." the sound of a low, worried voice penetrates your ears. you shut your eyes tight.

"no, the gods have cursed me! i mustn't listen to your poisonous words!" you exclaim. your state of agitation is alleviated when the woman caresses your tensed arm.

"what has happened to you? i haven't seen you lately either." the tone is more soft and more tender than you had imagined. you release your grip.

"is it really you, ningguang?" your voice cracks at the end, and the woman you sought after witnesses your features twist into an expression of longing and hope.

"yes, my darling. i dare not go anywhere else."

helplessly, you rush to cup her face to check for heat, for the blood traversing under her skin—anything that would prove that your sweetheart is truly alive and breathing. and when you do get the confirmation, you beam, trying to withhold tears born from elation.

you bend down to kiss ningguang, who is still seated on the chair, once, twice, and three times to rid your scepticism. oh, deities! she's real.

"i love you," you declare.

"i know." you watch as the same creases you'd etched on the corners of her eyes spread into a loving half-moon shape and you kiss her again.

you reach a conclusion: you couldn't give away your lover—let alone a live person—to be displayed as part of a museum exhibition so when the workers arrive, you hide your muse away in another room. you apologise profusely and spin a lie, rambling on about how you had nothing to relinquish for the piece you had prepared had been oh-so-viciously stolen by a mob of trespassers!

the movers share with you their sympathies and ask what the work of art looks like and maybe they could sort something out with the authorities. nodding, you recount—so ardently—the details of your divine maiden. you feel heat rush to your face, chuckling when you realise that you'd run your mouth for too long.

in response to this, the two labourers exchange dubious looks as they peer at the static sculpture standing in the middle of the studio—its appearance unmistakably matching your elaborate description.

[taem-min-archived]

Pygmalion and Galatea

Pairing : Pygmalion! Mark Lee x Female Reader

Genres:  angst, greek au

Summary: When he created his statue, he expected love. But does all our expectations come true?

WC: 0.8k

Tagging: @fifty-shades-of-mischeif @midnightmoi @whatudoing @xavi-in-kpopland @nctisthecity @lazycursedchild

Networks: @kpopscape @k-dinernet @kwritersworld @multifandomnet @knet-bakery @supermwritersnet @prism-nw @czennienet​ @nct-writers​ @neowritingsnet​ @neoturtles​ @ankathi-a​

Lee Mingyung exhaled a breath as he stared at the statue.

His statue.

His art.

And his love.

True, he loved all his works. But this time, this was different. This work, he called it Y/N, was by far his best work. He had poured his soul and life into it.

He poured so much love and affection into making this that he had fallen in love with it.

Yes, he had fallen in love with a statue.

When he first realised it, he had thought he was going mad. How was it even possible?

Yet here he was.

She was beautiful.

The statue looked so lively he could almost see her perfect lips, beautiful eyes and smooth hair come into colours and life.

Many times he was tempted to kiss those pretty lips of her. But would it stop the pain lingering in his chest? Would it help to ease the pain of love that was gawing at his heart?

And so he satisfied himself by just staring at her, perfecting her more and more with each passing day, while a small part of him, just a small part, wanted her to come to alive.

Oh, how he hoped that one of these days, while he wrapped his hands around her cold body, he would find warmth as she came alive. He wished that all of a sudden, somehow, someway, she would spring alive, her eyes filled with love and her heart beating just for him.

Unaware to Mingyung was that from high above the world in Olympus, Aphrodite sat on her high throne watching all of these.

Oh, how much she loved such love stories.

For her, it was just another drama.

Another puny mortal in love with the wrong thing. Another sad twisted ending of a Romeo and Juliet.

It excited her. It made her eager and curious about what would happen next.

But the more she watched this, the more her heart sank for this man. The more she felt that he deserved it. He deserved his true love.

And the statue, it was breathtakingly beautiful. Being the goddess of beauty, Aphrodite had watched Mingyung craft the statue since the beginning.

What had excited her at the beginning made her sad now.

She too wished for Munhyung's pain to end.

And so she granted him his wish. She gave the statue life.

Mingyung sat opposite to the statue sighing, as he wished for the millionth time in his life for it to come alive.

But it just stared back at him lifelessly.

He got up and walked towards it, and leaned his head against her forehead.

"Goddess." He muttered. "When will you come to me?"

No sooner had these words left his lips, he felt slight warmth underneath his fingertips, where his hand was holding her waist.

He looked at the statue and gasped.

He could see the colours flooding into her skin, her chest slowly beginning to rise as she started breathing and he could see her pulse throbbing slightly below her jaws.

Her, no your eyes fluttered and looked at him innocently, and he felt butterflies erupt in his stomach.

You looked so innocent, so soft. Like the heavens had created you and not his rough hands.

He cupped your soft face, gently caressing your cheek, as your lips parted slightly.

He took in every bit of you.

Your ethereal beauty. Your divine scent. And your graced life.

You looked at him, eyes fluttering close as Minhyung leaned in, lips inches away.

"My goddess." He breathed against your now warm lips. "My goddess, my queen, my love. I love you."

You looked into his eyes, slightly confused but still listening to him.

"You are so much more beautiful in flesh than in stone. Your beauty is beyond mortal comparison. No, you are not mortal for me. You are Aphrodite. Even prettier than Aphrodite."

And when Aphrodite heard this, her anger knew no bounds.

How could he say that? When she was the one who helped him? And how dare anyone be prettier than her, the Goddess of Beauty?

And so she cursed them. She cursed them that they would be the unhappiest lovers in history. They would be so unhappy that Lee Mingyung would wish he had never created Y/N in the first place.

As Minghyung leaned in to kiss you, you jerked away from his grip.

He looked at you surprised, as you stared at him not with love, but with burning anger and hatred.

"Love? What's wrong?" He asked, trying to approach you but you backed away.

"How dare you." You said, seething with anger. "How dare you think I love you."

Those words stopped Minhyung right in his tracks, and he felt his heart stop too.

"What ?" He asked, clear that he had misheard you. He had created you, you couldn't possibly hate him right?

"Stop! Don't come near me! I hate you!" You shrieked and ran away, leaving Minhyung cut open and bare, wishing he had never wanted you to be real.

A/N: It would be great if you guys could say what you think of this story as it would help me improve my writing. It can be either in the comments section or in the reblog tags. Thank you!

[the-wolf-who-kissed-the-moon]

• 2nd person pov writing.

• Non-specific gender reader.

• Kassandra x reader.

poppy fields.

Oh, how you loved her…

The mercenary whose name was on the lips of every man and woman in the Greek world. Many would cower at the mention of her dreaded title, yet some would become weak at the knees when they’d cross her path. And indeed it was true what they said about her; a magnificent presence which struck both fear and awe in the hearts of those who beheld her. You were sure she must’ve been carved out of titanium by the hands of the gods themselves. From the way she carried herself, fearless and menacing, to the way she’d speak so sweetly to her Eagle or leave a pouch of drachmae in the shivering hands of a beggar.

Oh, how you loved her…

Your blood was boiling with anxiousness when she first stood near you. Imposing, with strong hands on her hips and citrine eyes pinning your mentor against the wall. She cornered him over a quarrel, and you became as still and speechless as the marble statue you were carving. The walls of the workshop suddenly grew narrow and dark when she raised her voice to threaten him, making you feel as if Poseidon turned the waves of the Aegean against you.

Oh, how you loved her…

Your teacher despised her for her cunning demeanor, but he’d never dare go against her. He was becoming a ruin of himself, and you felt sympathy for those old hands shivering with fear each time The Eagle-Bearer would ride her horse past your sculpting workshop. It was a sin to feel so strongly for a woman who planted fear in your people, who left chaos behind her, and yet it would’ve been an ever greater sin to deny your genuine desires.

Oh… Kassandra…

“We need to talk.”

You tracked her on top of a high hill, in a field of poppies in full bloom. It was red everywhere, red like the blood rushing to your cheeks as she turned to face you with a serious look. To her, your were an open book; your wide eyes naively betraying the way you wore your heart on your sleeve. She approached you, and each of her footfalls made you tense in anticipation, but – what exactly were you expecting?

“Do we now?”

Sweet heavens, her voice was like balm to your ears. How was it possible that she could roar like a wild beast in battle, and then murmur so tenderly to you now? You caught her gaze, pinning you; up close she looked all the more frightening – her well defined body radiating raw strength, the glint of her sharp weapons, and the way she towered over you. And yet –

Oh, how you loved her…

In a moment, your hands were on her cheeks, caressing her beautiful olive skin with a tenderness you’ve been saving up for your first love. She was surprised, yet she did not pull away; her own hands, however, found leverage on your hips, and when she gripped you just a little harder, you took in a sharp breath. And there it was, that infamous little smirk which promised disaster.

All at once, your thoughts disintegrated, entranced by the perfect curve of her soft lips, the sharp edges of her strong jaw, and then… that smoldering gaze which seemed to burn deep, deep like embers, feeding that dormant volcano inside of you. You wanted to kiss her so hard.

“Kassandra…”

You murmured. 

She smirked proudly as she tugged you closer by your hips, visibly infatuated by your boldness even though you nearly crumbled before her; what were you even doing? It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

Her breath caressed your cheek in warm waves as she caught your scent. Purity and art, flowers and clay. The tip of her nose trailed slowly, slowly across your smooth jaw. And then she murmured in your ear, like a predator luring in her prey.

“You want my kiss?... Is that it?...”

“…please.”

If this was what sinning felt like, you would gladly throw yourself into oblivion. Kassandra answered your deepest desires quicker than any God had answered your prayers.

The faintest brush of her lips against your own left you breathless. Like the calm before the storm, slow and gentle at first, languidly savoring the sweetness of your mouth. An innocent peck to pamper the timid smile which bloomed on your countenance all of a sudden. She was amused, yet bold, and only then you realized how unprepared you were to actually live this fantasy. Had it not been for her brawny arms around your body, you wouldn’t melted into the ground below, sizzling like a puddle in the summer rain. 

No daydream could compare to how hot and soft her tongue felt as she brutishly penetrated your mouth. You felt her strength not only in her arms, but on her mouth, her chest, her whole body as she enveloped you in merely a drop of her passion. The taste of her would haunt you for nights to come, bringing you back to this very moment, in which you were sure Hades would come for you as soon as this beautiful huntress would devour you completely. 

Your jaw fell submissively, allowing the goddess to do as she pleased with you in that never-ending dance of sensuality between young mouths. Her tongue was everywhere, all over your lips, deep inside and brushing along your gums, leaving you yearning for more when she would pull away for a quick breath.

And when she brought the kiss to an end, she did it gradually, finishing her conquest with tender pecks against your breathless mouth. Lips to lips, like butterflies… in your stomach.

Your arms fell weakly around her broad shoulders as you tried to catch your breath. She was so beautiful, so magnificent, it was almost surreal how easily she made you give in, leaving you tingling and warm all over.

She was kind.

A rough, violent, aggressive mercenary, but kind. Wasn’t that a paradox? But she carefully held you up to your feet as she caressed your cheek with the back of her fingers.

“Is that all you came to talk about?”

She jested, but the sound of her voice and the way she held you made it impossible for you to take any offense.

“I-… no, I came to talk about… my teacher. The sculptor.”

You managed to whisper, and once again she was pleasantly surprised by how determined and serious the look in your eyes became, even though you could barely stand on your weak legs. She chuckled, yet her arrogance was nothing but endearing to you in that moment. The brilliant light of the moon lighting her cheeks, her dazzling smile, and the never-ending flame in her eyes.

“Well then. Find me here tomorrow night again. And we’ll… ‘talk’.

Oh… how you loved her.

- End.

[ofhoneyandrosepetals]

Aarhus Universitet - Ansuz Raido Ravens (6) - final chapter

Pairing: Modern!Ivar x reader

Description: Y/N is a freshman in Aarhus University and, being the roommate of both Torvi and Margrethe, that gives her some privileges and intel on the university, as it on the leading fraternity as well, Ansuz Raido Ravens, the Ragnarssons’ fraternity. Eventually, she gets engaged up with Ivar, who happened to gather a suspicious reputation among girls.

Warnings: swearings, smut content.

Word count: 2,120

A/N: and it’s finally here, after so many years! I’m so sorry I didn’t finish this fic any sooner, even though I always wanted to. I could never rest if I never posted this final chapter. I hope you guys like it!

When you woke up the bed was empty, Ivar’s side not warm enough. You heard the noise of the shower running. He’d probably be finishing up by now. You roll on your back, feeling the most tired you ever felt, ignoring with all your strength the events of last night.

You heard the bathroom door click and looked to see Ivar wearing a zipped open hoodie, his tanned chest on sight. You bit your lips. “What a great view to wake up to.”

“I thought the great view would be something, you know, a little more downwards,” he said, a playful look on his eyes.

“Actually, that would be a great activity to wake up to.”

Ivar’s eyes immediately went to pure lust, but you raised your palms in protest. “I need to go shower first, loverboy. Last night’s party is killing me.”

“I won’t go anywhere.”

Ivar sits on a chair by the window, observing you.

“Be right back,” you state as you enter the bathroom, closing the door behind you.

*

Fifteen minutes later and you felt refreshed, ready to start off your day. As soon as Ivar got sight of you, he jerked up from the chair, a lustful look on his face. His canines shone at the sunlight, making your guts heavy.

“C’mere, woman. I’m hungry for some delicious breakfast.”

Ivar shortened the distance between you two, making you step back until your back hit the wall. He held your chin between his fingers and kissed you, rough as always. You lose no time in opening your mouth to welcome him - there was no need to hold anything back, since you wanted him as much he wanted you. His lips were not soft as they usually were - his bruises and cuts were still fresh. You thought about being careful so his cuts wouldn’t open, but who were you joking?, you didn’t want him to slow down.

His tongue dominated yours, which you were glad for - you had no strength to be the dominating one today.

Ivar’s hands traveled all around your body as he kissed and bit your lips. Your hands were firmly tugging his loose, wet hair. “Grip it harder,” you heard him mumbling between kisses. You tugged his hair harder.

Ivar made no ceremonies as he slid his right hand inside your panties, feeling you already wet. “Oh babygirl, that’s how I like you, all wet for me.” His words sent shivers through your body. He started working his fingers on your clit, slowly going up and down, feeling you panting against his mouth. It felt so good that you threw your head back, hitting the wall behind you. You sighed in pleasure when Ivar paced faster, you getting more and more wet.

You had no care for Ivar kisses and suckings on your neck - all you cared and could think about was his hands down on you. “You like that?” He asked. You only nodded in response, moaning. “What do you think of my mouth going there?” You couldn’t say anything at the thought of him eating you out so, once again, you moaned in response.

Ivar sat on his knees in no time, quickly taking your panties off. You stepped your legs aside, opening yourself for Ivar, back tight against the wall.

“Look at you,” he said hoarsely. “It’s a fucking feast down here.”

Ivar held your thighs tightly, kissing their inner sides. You were eager for his mouth in your pussy, but you wanted to play cool. He kissed and licked the insides of your thighs until you grunted in annoyance, anticipation taking over you.

“Someone’s impatient,” he teased you.

You got chunks of his hair with both your hands, pulling it.

“Just fucking do it, Ragnarsson.”

“Do what?”

You weren’t looking at him, but you could hear his sassy smile.

“Eat me out.”

“With pleasure,” he said and went down on you.

Ivar licked your wetness, the feeling of his tongue making your whole body relax. He worked you out, licking and sucking, his tongue inside you, then to your labia and for last to your clit, switching between these patterns. His pace wasn’t steady - he was slow, then fast, and then slow again. The noises his mouth made as he ate you was enough to make you moan, imagine alone what he was doing.

He caressed with the tip of his nose your clit as his tongue went in and out of you. You sighed heavily.

“Faster,” you tried to manage.

Ivar slid two fingers inside your pussy, curling them.

“Fucking thrust me, Ivar.”

So he did it. Ivar thrusted you hard with his fingers, licking and sucking your pussy at the same time. You were so on edge that you felt your legs trembling, having no more strength to keep on your feet anymore, and the wall wasn’t doing any good on keeping you up. Ivar felt your loose body and gripped hard at your waist with his left hand, keeping you up.

“You’re gonna cum on your feet,” he said. “But damn, am I not a weak man? I wanna fuck you so hard right now with my own cock.”

You came at his words, throwing your head back at the wall, making a hard thump. You pulled his hair hard and moaned loudly, screaming.

“Fuck me, Ivar,” you said without a breath. “Fuck me and I’ll cum again, all around your cock.”

Ivar lost no time in getting up, kicking his shorts and boxers away and wrapping your legs around him, pinning you up against the wall. He held you there while putting on a condom and quickly, roughly, he slid inside you. “No mercy,” you told him, and he had none.

He thrusted you fast and hard, going almost all out to go back all in. He already knew your G spot, so he went directly there, making you see stars at his strength inside you and at the feeling of pleasure. You had no idea Ivar could hold such a pace. You tugged your fingernails on his back, feeling the skin opening. That made Ivar grunt and kiss you, biting your lower lip. You felt the taste of blood, but it was only his cut on his lips opening.

You wanted to dirty talk, but you couldn’t find any words, only scream in pleasure.

“Yes, Y/N, show everyone how I make you feel.”

His steady fast pace was doing its job, and you could feel once again your walls clenching - a couple more thrusts and you felt your whole body trembling, relaxing, pleasure running through your veins as you screamed. Ivar thrusted a little more until he, too, came, moaning.

His blue eyes were pure fire and you couldn’t look away from them as Ivar slowly thrusted you after you two came, your walls screaming in sensibility.

“That was fucking awesome,” you sounded like you had ran a marathon.

“I’ll need to shower again, look what you did to me,” Ivar was wet with sweat.

“Let’s go then, I’ll clean you up.”

*

You hadn’t class today, so you and Ivar were sitting outside, by the shadows of a tree, you comfortably nested between his legs, your back and head resting on his chest as you took notice of the movement on campus.

“I’ve been wanting to ask you,” you start saying.

“What is it?” Ivar sounded like he was at peace.

“About your fraternity names. They usually use Greek letters, but what do you guys use?”

“Runes from the Elder Futhark, Ansuz and Raido. Raido means journey while Ansuz can be the rune related to Odin. My father always told me and my brothers that we descend from Odin, that’s why this choice of runes.”

“But ‘Ravens’ is not a rune.”

“No, it isn’t, but is the animal associated with Odin.”

“So your fraternity is all related to Odin, in the end.”

“One can say so.”

“Well, this is cool, but it’s even cooler to just rest on your chest and take a nap,” you said, nestling more on Ivar, closing your eyes as the sunlight warmed you.

*

Weeks have already passed - Torvi moved out of yours and Margrethe’s room, moving in with Ubbe, but she always avoided yours and Ivar’s path, staying out of the way. Ivar kept working on his bike, saying that he sensed that soon enough he’d take you for a ride. Margrethe wasn’t on talking terms with you, but she was always polite, apt to keep a chill environment. She had her space and you respected that, even though you missed her.

Until one day you finally made the choice you’ve been thinking about for so long.

Margrethe was at her desk taking care of her studies when you started talking, without giving a warning.

“I’m not going to tell you my whole story, since I don’t want to be a bother more than I already am right now,” you saw Margrethe getting so rigid that she could easily be a statue. “I was in deep shit a couple months ago, and my parents arranged me into college, as part of an agreement between us. I go clean and they help me, as long as I majored in something, anything. They got me three universities and I was able to choose this one.

“I know how much you suffered here and how much is difficult for you to be around, you know, them. Me, even. But I always saw you as and considered you my friend, Margrethe. I deeply, truly care about you, and I never wanted to harm you in any way.

“That’s why I spoke with my parents and called in a favor.”

“What favor?” Margrethe asked, her voice shooked.

“You can transfer all the way up to Aalborg University. If you want to, of course. I feel like I owe you this, at least.”

Margrethe stood in silence for what felt like minutes, but it was only a couple seconds.

“Why?” She finally asked.

“I just said, I feel like I owe you this. In my name and in the name of the Ragnarssons. It would really make me happy if you accept this.”

“A fresh start?”

“A fresh start. It’s always possible, and everyone deserves one. I’m the solid example of that.”

“Do you really mean it?” Margrethe turned over to look at you, her eyes watering, tears coming down through her rosy cheeks.

“I’m serious about it, Margrethe. All you have to do is say yes and I’ll arrange everything out.”

It was a storm that hit you - Margrethe got up from her chair and hugged you, crying on your shoulders, repeating without a stop ‘thank you’. You caressed her hair, feeling relief to have that situation sorted out.

Margrethe deserved a break and a good life.

*

You were smoking a cigarette by the window of your dorm when you heard a knock on your door, freezing immediately. Did someone rat on you? You weren’t supposed to smoke inside the dorm.

“Y/N, are you in there?” You heard Ivar’s voice and relaxed.

“Don’t fucking knock like that, I thought you were a supervisor,” you said as you opened the door for your boyfriend.

“Damn, what a greeting. Good to see you too,” Ivar pecked you on your lips and smiled brightly, his left hand behind his back, clearly hiding something.

“What do you have there?” You pointed with your chin.

“Oh, this? Nothing but our great next adventure.”

Ivar showed you what was on his left hand and you gasped in surprise.

He held you a jet-black helmet.

“Is this what I think it is?”

“We’re going for a ride, yes.”

You gave Ivar a kiss and quickly shoved him out of your room, excited to go riding.

*

You were on the roadway without a destination. Your arms were around Ivar’s torso and the wind made the length of your hair go flying all around you. You held on tight, inspiring Ivar’s cologne. You rested your cheek on his shoulder, admiring Denmark’s landscape.

You weren’t thinking or looking for the future with Ivar, but only at the present. It’s not that you didn’t want a future with Ivar - it was just that you wanted to free your head from thoughts and seize the moment, to finally take a break.

Present is all that matters.

Life with Ivar would pretty much be an ugly mess, but at least you wouldn’t be alone.

What would come next was going to be fate, a mere consequence of actions and choices.

Your destiny was already sealed, and all you had to do was go ahead.

Taglist:  @mblaqgi​ @akamaiden​ @dangerousvikings​ @oddsnendsfanfics​ @deepdarkred @irishhiggins​ @tinypuppysoul​ @kingbouji3 @i-war-s-boner @capitanostella​ @loothbrok @noaor​ @thehuntress26​ @sassymcgonagal1651 @hoodirwin5 @attorneyl​ @collecting-stories​ @certainobservationwasteland​ @dreams-in-different-colours @3x5gurl​ @readsalot73​ @action-adventure-and-cheesecake @titty-teetee​ @cutiedaij @austenkingmylady​ @ivarthesweetheart​ @golden-pickaxe​ @lokis-sunflower-anna @bill-istvan @cynthianokamaria​ @hallowed-heathen @fuckthatfeeling​ @huffelpuffers​ @paintballkid711​ @brynhildrx @mariaenchanted​ @wonderwoman292

[zayashmaya]

Oh my God please share your poly thoughts on Luna Tagora and Galekh.

With pleasureeeee!!

I’ll do sfw stuff and maybe nsfw hcs another time.

- Luna loves Galekh’s secret artistic side and encourages him to do more than simple notebook doodles. He is still very guarded about his sketches, but Luna understands that we all need a mental safe space for ourselves so she doesn’t pester him about her curiosity. She took him to meet Charun because she is chaotic and wanted to see if these art snobs would play nice (spoiler alert they got along). Tagora will never let those secret sketches go, though. Partly because he wants to see what the hell Galekh drew and partly because the very act of being an annoying snoop pisses Galekh off to no end. Luna lets them strife for the funny drama. All three of them enjoy peaceful walks so they’ve made a habit of showing Luna new places, the safer parts of highblood gardens, etc. Luna inspired him to bring a sketchbook on their walks so whenever they want to relax, Galekh can shut his mind off and work while Luna and Tagora quietly talk among themselves. 

- Galekh discovers the addicting joy of having something small, cuddly, and warm in his lap while he reads by the fire. He’s had little experience with red/pale intimacy, and Tagora is quite literally an angry cat with claws who always wants his space. Even Luna knows that physical intimacy with Tagora needs to be expertly skated around. As such, Galekh never really knew what he was missing until Luna entered the quad. And he quickly realized how much he enjoys having her anywhere near him. He wants it pretty badly once he’s hooked on it, but he either hits uncharacteristically shy mental blocks and doesn’t ask, or he goes off on a thesis-sized tangent that all says one thing - please come cuddle with me. Luna picks up on his neediness early on in the relationship. Galekh is lucky that she’s like a puppy who inserts herself into people’s spaces (if they let her). Snuggle times are wonderful for both of them. Galekh’s chest is very comfortable - he’s not a chiseled muscular athlete, his muscles peak through a bit of chub. And his pecks are like pillows. Luna is thriving. And Galekh is very enamored by her complete trust in his safety. And she’s so soft. Galekh craves dat tactile sensation of caressing Luna’s warm squishy body, her tummy rolls and thick thighs, and her fluffy hair reminds him of his lusus. Tagora sometimes side-eyes this scene because he thinks it’s a little to palerom for his liking, and he is very protective over his quad with Luna, but once Luna starts her horny endeavors to make out with Galekh, Tagora knows he’s in the clear. 

- They all take pictures of each other, especially during candid moments, and it’s so incredibly obnoxious how in love/hate they all are with each other like it’s truly mind boggling to some outsiders who witness their domesticity. Galekh and Luna work out with Stelsa and you bet there’s picture-taking of Galekh’s perfect fat ass and his muscular back and his sweaty concentrating face all flushed indigo and hair tousled like he’s a greek statue. Luna makes sure to get his tattoo into some shots before she sends them to Tagora for that extra kismesis flavor. And she of course has to take creep shots of powerhouse Stelsa for Tyzias. She knows that’s Tyzias’s kink. Luna takes candids of Tagora after he’s showered and particularly relaxed. Settled onto the couch in nothing but a bathrobe that’s sliding down one shoulder, his hair loose and a little disheveled, cradling a mug of Galekh’s hated coffee, and watching the television with a relaxed expression. Galekh texts up a fury over how patheticly complacent Tagora looks with his shitty coffee brand but Luna knows Galekh is nutting over how enticing Tagora looks in the photo. And there is an unspoken unity among Galekh and Tagora to always send pictures of Luna to each other, no matter if she looks silly or cute or beautiful or messy af. All three of their phone storage content is just ... embarrassing. 

- Luna is an expert in palerom intimacy. Truly a woman sent from the gods with golden hands. All of Alternia would bow at her feet if they experience what Tagora experiences during an intense palerom grooming/snuggle session. It’s why he guards his relationship so fiercely - Luna is actually a total catch and nothing short of betrayal or death will shake Tagora off of her. She looooves calming Tagora down to the point of sending him into a stupor-like state where he is endlessly purring and borderline paralyzed from all the positive emotions he’s experiencing. I’d call this something like a palerom subspace. It’s a very intimate moment because Tagora is at his most vulnerable. Usually his head is in her lap with his arms around her waist while she slowly brushes his hair, runs her nails along his scalp, softly traces his horns, grooms the base of his horns (a huge weakness for trolls), and talks low and sweet to him, sometimes telling him how much he means to her, sometimes telling him that he deserves to rest and he works so hard and she’s so proud of him, like idk ya’ll I think this would be considered the filthiest degenerate porn to Alternians. Galekh accidentally witnessed this once and he’s been curious ever since, and also incredibly scandalized. It’s the most embarrassed he’s ever been. Thank god Tagora didn’t spot him or there would be actual physical violence. Galekh wants to understand this palerom ritual just for the sake of knowing, but a part of him also deeply yearns to experience Luna’s attentiveness like that. Eventually Galekh and Tagora reach a mutual agreement (with a 600 page contract on Galekh’s limitations and what lines not to cross). They are honestly just so goddamn extra because they do ALL this shit just so Galekh can have his hair petted without Tagora having a conniption. Luna is happy to oblige! 

God i rambled with these and I still feel like there’s more for me to explore askjfda i’ll leave it here, hopefully you see the dynamics i’m trying to portray here! 

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

PROMPT: Followup to How do you think Euryale would court the MC? #knifewifesquad

WARNINGS: Somewhat OOC 

characters Mentions of blood Crimes against fashion 

Unhealthy/Predatory Behaviors 

Reference to Greek Mythology 

Potential Spoilers for Routes 

Written by @evoedbd 

 *****************************************************************

Alisha’s answer was gorgeous. There was no other word that summed up everything that ran through her mind. Cute, delicate, fiery, marblesque… all fell under that uniquely gorgeous category. In a manner beyond human or Godly monster, or any Alisha had seen in her brief life.

The first thing to captivate her was unimaginably expressive eyes. Gems the colour of peach, dancing a fine line between pink and brown. Pale and captivating. Shock blew them wide, even as a weariness hardened them, and something void of sanity swum in their pale depths. There was something innocent about them, how large and clear they were perhaps, topped by a petite brow that seemed to carry the weight of the world and pale hair a shade between winter sunshine and summer dried grass. Hair with a short cut, wispy fringe and hanging in girlish pigtails tucked between delicate little ears… with little earrings shaped like a butcher’s knife from a murder scene, complete with photo realistic colour decal. The Alice in wonderland went batshit crazy theme continued with a lavender summers dress, ending just above delicate knees, leaving little black shoes suited to a child on display. Shoes bathed in blood; little bows knocked askew.

“Who are you?” The woman demanded; voice shrill. Soft looking lips, only half coated with a dappling of peach lipstick, peeled back from teeth. Sharp teeth. Teeth with the top canines extended almost like fangs, though evidently within the human vein of acceptable. An adorable, proud yet dainty nose turned upwards, thin nostrils flaring as if scenting the air for the next kill. So, it was becoming apparently clear Alice should never have left wonderland… but even on the rampage, her unique appearance still fell in gorgeous. Godly even. As if carved from the finest marble, then drizzled with a faint layer of gold so she gleamed in the light.

“That was a stupid question. I know who you are. What the hell were you thinking? Just barging in here like that! I could have turned you into… well, a museum piece! Do you know how many museum pieces my sisters have donated?”

Something about the way she spoke of museum pieces made Alisha feel entirely uneasy. As if these pieces could feel… but that would mean… oh. Oh no. Please no.

Alisha went to open her mouth, went to speak, only for an utterly confused squeak to escape. Enough to make her want to facepalm. She was usually calm and rational, heck she faced down Hercules on the daily, but some insane chick had her squeaking. How was that even a thing? Well, she had to be real. She had a real-life Godly Monster, someone so potent she had etched her name in history, in her living room. So, she had it down to one out of three to guess from, but what would happen if she got it wrong? She had to think carefully, try to piece everything together on the fly. A beauty carved of stone, who spoke of statues as if they were living beings, with sharpened teeth? A woman who had an unhealthy obsession with knives and inflicting pain on demigods… or anything really… anybody? Why was Alisha still looking into her eyes?

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you a- you’re hurt.” She’d started carefully, tilting her gaze cautiously to avoid looking as intimidated as she was, only to notice the black patch against the woman’s ribcage. No matter who, no matter what she was, she was hurt. She was bleeding all over her own shoes. Over Alisha’s furniture. And she was kind of sweet, even with the psychotic side. This was a woman who’d left helpful messages and items to support Alisha through some tough times. It made sense now why the acts were humanly inappropriate. Could Alisha really hold cultural differences against an injured woman?

“No I’m not!” The woman’s snappiness made Alisha’s heart jump. Her insides lurched, every droplet of blood trying to relocate an inch to the left. Yet, somehow, she didn’t move a muscle. The HERA agent simply stood her ground, extending her hand as she pointed to the dark patch against the lavender.

“What’s that then?” Alisha demanded, watching the other woman lower her gaze. Peach eyes fixed on the wound for a split second, lips pursing in clear irritation. Something about it had Alisha thinking the irritation was more for the dress than the cut.

“It’s a flesh wound.”

… apparently Alisha was right.

“That’s still hurt!” Alisha finally snapped, her exasperation bursting through her human instinct to fear the godly.

“Are you calling me weak?” The woman’s sharp demand was accompanied by an earthquake worthy shift in her attitude. The peach in her eyes shrunk, the band of colour narrowing down to pinpoints even as her eyes blew wide. A crazed monster, matched by the rows of unnaturally sharp teeth, which she had bared in a wide mouthed snarl. Something Alisha couldn’t help but smile at. Granted, she probably should have been revaluating her strategy given there was also a giant leopard seal snarling from her couch, with teeth for days and murder in its lavender eyes, embraced by a halo of lavender that betrayed it was definitely this woman’s aura… but, of course, Alisha didn’t. The longer she stared at the flex of aura, for every breath of salt and brine she inhaled, she could feel an answering tide within her. It swelled in her chest, overcoming her entire being, washing away all possibility and competition until it was the only thing that could escape her.

“Euryale.” The name tasted so right. How a word could have taste, Alisha couldn’t begin to explain. Yet, the way it rolled across her tongue, how it made her lips caress the syllables… it was the tide, an ebb and flow, the rolling of waves in her mouth to which Alisha was helpless to resist. The ancient name held such wonder, such elegance, something delicate and something fierce. Of course this was Euryale. How could Alisha have ever thought otherwise? She lacked the force of Stheno, nor held the renowned grace of Medusa. Euryale was potent emotion. The myths of her cries crumbling stone played in the back of Alisha’s mind, for if she were stone, she truly doubted she could handle anguish in such a raw form. Not if Euryale expressed it like she expressed her irritation.

“You’re not weak, at all, but you are hurt. I don’t understand any of what is going on, why you’ve been leaving me messages, or why you’re hurt, but you are hurt. I need to help you. I’m not about to turn you over to H.E.R.A. If you’d wanted to hurt me, you wouldn’t have sent me all those nice things. You’d have already done it. For now, that’s enough for me to trust you. Can you now trust me?” Alisha’s words were spoken gently, as one might speak to a nervy colt. She could only watch as peach reclaimed white, swelling until there was barely white left. Those gorgeous eyes glistened, oceans beginning to trickle from them before everything withdrew. Then, the scent was only a memory. The seal as tangible as a dream one couldn’t quite remember after waking.

“You don’t know… was my intent not clear?” The Gorgon questioned, lower lip trembling as she pouted. Alisha could only shake her head.

“Charybdis and Prime told me that lines of courtship were still done in human society! They even had me spend hours memorising hundreds of atrocious lines that I might woo you properly! They said romantic notes held universal intent!” Euryale went from mopey to utterly infuriated within a blink, stamping her little black flats into the pool of blood and salt water. Alisha could only blink.

“You were… you were attempting to hit on me?”

“I spent days researching the languages of the finest poets under their guidance, only for you not to understand their complexity?” The Gorgon continued. Alisa could only bite her lip, struggling not to laugh.

“You… googled pickup lines?”

Euryale’s cheeks flushed.

“Prime told me that was how you wooed in this era!” Euryale whined, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. With every frustrated huff, her murderous little earrings jingled, making Alisha’s struggle to keep her composure that much harder.

“And stabbed them into my door? For weeks…”

“I read delivery should be given personal flare! Stheno said I should be direct!”

Well… she was direct alright.

“By stabbing my door… for weeks…” Alisha reiterated, voice lacking emotion. Aphrodite was going to have a field day with this. May was probably already planning friendfictons… Alisha could only facepalm.

“I had to research your patterns for months to establish an appropriate time schedule-”

“Are you confessing to stalking me? For months?” Alisha had to cut in. So, that explained some things, probably should have freaked her out too… but could she completely fault this adorable creature? Ok, so it was unquestionably out of line, something that Alisha would have to have some strong words with Euryale about, and Euryale was a poster child for sweet but psycho… but it was somehow charming too. Euryale looked very much like a teenager grumbling about a crush. All the social floundering, the sincere effort put into it. So, things were very lost in translation, but… it was kind of endearing watching an ancient godly monster try to act like a twenty-year-old.

“I was observing! I had to perfect the wedding gifts.”

“Wedding…?”

“The exchange of blades? A proposal? You accepted them… you didn’t know their meaning, did you?”

Again, Alisha could only shake her head. No. Nope. Absolutely no clue.

What followed was a tirade of ancient Greek, spoken so vehemently it could be nothing but the most enthusiastic of cussing fits. It was accompanied by little stamps and huffs, so reminiscent of a toddler throwing a tantrum that Alisha was caught between cooing at the more twee aspects of the scenario or blushing at the few phrases she could roughly understand. She did neither. Before she could decide, Euryale’s foot came down that bit too hard in her previous mess, splattering little pink droplets across the floor. Her shoe slid through the puddle, sending the Gorgon sprawling onto the couch with the grace of a beached whale, and a terrified yelp that cut Alisha to the core. Before Euryale could stop it, a pitiful whine escaped her, degrading Alisha’s mind to one goal.

Comfort.

She sprang into action, reaching to press her hands tightly to the wound even as she broke into babbling.

“Hey, hey, hey! I am sure you’re really lovely, and would make a wonderful, erm, soulmate. But I haven’t really gotten to know you, and I really appreciate the knives, but I’m not ready for marriage… maybe we could start with something simple? Like coffee?” It was after her verbal outpouring that Alisha realised this was the first time she was touching Euryale.  Months of gifts and messages had finally led to this.  It should have been ground-breaking; Alisha had expected the moment to erode the mountains.  Expected her heart to seize in her chest… but everything was still.  The heat of blood and comfortable curve of Euryale’s body didn’t leave her brain melted.  Didn’t feel monumental the way she’d expected.  It was natural, just like the act of taking breath, as if she’d been born to do precisely this.

“Coffee?” The hopeful yet confused way Euryale muttered that had Alisha practically melting. How was this twee little psychopath so adorable?

“Yep. Maybe some dinners, or some movies? Oh, do you have a phone?”

“A… phone?”

“So we can call and text. I adore the gifts, but I can’t afford to keep replacing the door, not to mention if someone breaks in, I’m only human.”

“You’re Hera.” The Gorgon whispered, looking into Alisha’s eyes. Again, the peach had swallowed the white, brimming with such profound sorrow that Alisha couldn’t resist leaning closer to press her lips to the Gorgon’s forehead.

“I’m still only human… so, coffee?”

“Coffee.” Euryale agreed, lips pulling into a timid smile. Before either woman could process more, The Gorgon flinched, a hiss escaping between her teeth.

“And bandages?” Alisha suggested, earning some form of snort from Euryale to accompany the flush to her cheeks and the growing little smile.

“Bandages are good.”

In hindsight, Alisha probably should have asked what had happened, but she was far too lost in that gorgeous smile, in that beautiful moment of vulnerability, to do anything more than come to two very startling conclusions.

One - she was the biggest sapphic disaster to ever walk the earth.

Two - If Euyrale didn’t stop being so endearing, Alisha was absolutely fucked.

[cafedanslanuit]

what about if the rfa members + v and saeran found out mc is self conscious because shes chubby so they show her how much they love her body? (nsfw? unless you arent comfy! :~) )

hello, anon! this is probably my first nsfw request~ and yes, i’m comfortable writing it, buuuuut it came out way too long. So I’m giving you this hc for Zen, Jumin and Saeyoung for now. I’ll try and write for Yoosung, Jaehee, Saeran and V as well

Zen

He had noticed the times you looked in the mirror and looked at your thighs, bringing your short of skirt a little lower, trying to cover them up. He had said nothing, thinking you wished for a longer skirt.

But once he took a candid photo of you reading on the couch on a pair on leggins and one of Zen’s t-shirts. When he showed it to you, you scrunch your face. He asked what was wrong and you said your legs looked way too fat for your body.

“But I love your legs” he replied, not understanding how you could not like them? Like, there was nothing sexier than a pair of good legs. He liked a good ass rather than a huge rack, to be honest.

“Babe, my jeans don’t last because they always rip. That’s how huge they are” you complained.

“I’m not saying your legs aren’t big” he said, leaving his phone forgotten behind and crawling closer to you on the sofa. “I’m saying I think they’re really sexy.”

Your face turned bright red, but kissed Zen when he brushed his lips against yours. You felt how he slowly pushed you on the couch so he was on top of you, his hands exploring under your t-shirt, his breath hitching when he realized you weren’t wearing a bra. You moaned softly at the touch of his fingers against your firm nipples and that seemed to only encourage him further. You knew this was the part when he usually took off your top off and honestly, you couldn’t want anything else more.

When you moaned again, he pulled away to take off the hoodie he was wearing. You smiled as you looked the abs your boyfriend worked everyday on, wondering how lucky you had to be to be loved by someone who looked like a greek statue. He smirked when he saw you ogling over him and bent down to peck your lips.

“I haven’t even started” he teased. You felt his hand going to your ass and giving it a soft squeeze that seemed to pleasure both of you. Zen then hooked his fingers on the hem on your leggins and pulled it down, making you gasp in surprise. He usually got rid of your top first. Once your leggings were on the floor, he positioned himself between your legs.

He gave a small lick on the inside of your left thigh, enticing a moan from you. He put his hands on the back of your thighs, caressing them and sometimes coming up your ass to give it a squeeze. His began making a trail of kisses on both your thighs, even daring to bite a little, just because he liked how much you jumped the first time. The sensation of his ministrations were so pleasant, you forgot for a minute how much you didn’t like that part of yourself.

His mouth finally reached its destination, stopping on your crotch, on top of your underwear. By then, you were soaking wet and he smiled when he noticed it. He began giving open-mouthed kisses, making you squirm under his touch, his hands settled on your ass caressing it under your underwear now.

“You’re a tease” you manage to say, making him laugh softly, the vibrations of his voice sending an additional wave of pleasure. He pulled away, taking your wet panties off and throwing them on the floor. He took both of your legs and put your thighs on his shoulders, smirking at you.

“I didn’t lie, babe. I really…” he pressed a kiss on your inner thigh. “Really…” another one, on the other leg. “Really like your legs. Especially when they’re on my shoulders” he added, giving you one of his confident and sexy smiles. You nodded, not knowing what to say, and Zen took it as a sign to bury his face between your legs.

His hands were still on your thighs, touching them up and down, as his tongue ran across your folds. He already knew where to twirl his tongue, where you liked the tip of his tongue and where you preferred longer licks. Your moans where getting louder and louder, your thighs pressing both sides of his head. You felt Zen’s hands strengthening the hold on your thighs, his fingers leaving marks on your skin. But you couldn’t care less, all you needed was for him to keep going.

After giving your folds a long lick, his tongue started swirling around your clitoris. Your whole body was trembling, your mouth babbling incoherences and your hands were tangled on Zen’s hair, pulling his hair just hard enough to make him feel pleasure as well. When he noticed your thighs were squeezing him even harder, very cautiously, he began giving small licks right on top of your clitoris.

Soon, he felt your whole trembling body tense up, and the now familiar pulse on top of his mouth. Even with your thighs covering his ears, he could perfectly hear your high-pitched moan, confirming you had reached your climax. He kept licking, but this time way more softly, helping you ride out your orgasm. At the end, he placed soft kisses, still feeling little trembles from the aftershock.

Zen looked up and fell in love once again with how you were looking. Your face was reddish and sweaty, your lips also red, hinting you had been biting on them. Your hair was a mess and your chest was going up and down as you were trying to catch your breath.

He grinned at you and you chuckled softly. He places a kiss on your thigh and then carefully put himself on top of you again, so he could leave a kiss on your forehead.

“I love you” he said. You smiled and gave him a kiss on the lips, holding his face between your hands.

“I love you too”

Jumin

Jumin loved whenever you two had sex. You knew each other’s rhythm, what they liked and preferred not to do, where exactly to touch each other to send them over the edge…

But he really didn’t know why you didn’t like when he tried to take off your bra. He hadn’t insisted when you non-verbally made it clear you didn’t want him to take it off.

But he wondered why

He had then learnt it was okay if he touched your breast over your bra, you even seem to like it.

One night, when you two were laying in bed, he decided to just go for it and ask.

“Love, I need to ask you something, but please, don’t feel you have to answer if you’re not comfortable. I must admit I wish you answered my question, though”

You left the book you were reading on the nightstand and looked at him, expectantly.

“Why don’t you want me you take off your bra when we make love?”

You blinked twice and then looked away, feeling your face heat up.

“If– if it’s something too personal, I understand. You don’t have to tell me, I just wondered why” he tried to explain himself.

You shook your head. You took his hand in your and gave it a soft squeeze before sighing. 

“See, I… It’s not like I have something like a scar, it’s just, well… I– uhm, you know I’m not exactly thin, right?”

Jumin arched an eyebrow, confused. What does it have to do with anything? Yes, you weren’t skinny but it wasn’t something that he would consider a problem. 

“Well” you continued, “hmm, I like my breasts. I do, I can make a nice dress go from good to ‘damnnn’” you joked nervously. “But that’s when I have a bra on. Since they’re well… big, they look a little… uhm, I guess the right word would be saggy. Yeah. So I prefer how they look when I have a bra on” you explained, looking at your joint hands.

Jumin furrowed his eyebrows as he listened to you. “If your breasts are… big” he felt he was getting flustered now “of course they will fall a little. That’s how gravity works”.

“But there are girls with big boobs and they’re not saggy, they’re really firm and pointing upwards and…” you said, using your hands to explain a little. “I guess they could look better if I did some cardio but– I don’t know, I should lose some weight, I know I have to but–”

“You don’t need to lose any weight, MC. If you want to, there’s a gym in this building and I can hire a nutritionist. But don’t feel like you need to lose weight. I’m madly in love with you and your body” he said, making you smile. He went and kissed you softly, making your heart jump.

The kiss went from soft to passionate the only way Jumin Han knew how. You always wondered how could he could do that. As you let him push you on the bed, you were reminded of how much you loved that man and how much you wanted to spend the rest of your life together.

You kept kissing him and then blindly tried to take off your engagement ring, just to make sure you wouldn’t hurt or scratch Jumin when you started taking each other’s clothes off. Just as you were about to leave it on the nightstand, Jumin held your wrist. 

“Leave it on. I love the reminder that we’re going to be doing this the rest of our lives”

You put it on again, feeling your heart flutter at Jumin’s words. You opened your legs, helping him settle more comfortable on top of you and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer. You heard him moan at the friction and smiled. You were both wearing pyjamas, so there wasn’t a lot of fabric keeping you two apart. In fact, since you were wearing a nightdress, the only thing between you and your fiancé was his pyjama pants.

You hummed and caressed Jumin’s hair, pulling it softly, just to make him want a little more. He began kissing your jaw and your neck, finding the spots he already knew you liked, taking his time. You bucked your hips up, feeling how hard he was. Your mouth watered, wanting nothing but to pleasure him even further.

Hips lips traveled to your shoulder, leaving kisses all over your skin. He stopped for a second and looked up at you. “Love” he said, his breath hitching a little. “Can I…?” he asks, his finger hooking on the strap of your dress. You bit your lip, not knowing what to say. “You can say no” he assured you, kissing your shoulder. “I just want to try and make you more comfortable with your body, because I’m in love with it as I am with you”.

You let out a nervous chuckle. After a deep breath, you nodded nervously. Jumin lowered the straps of your dress and slowly starts pulling your nightdress down, thanking it was big enough to slide down easily. Finally, he saw your breasts for the first time and he couldn’t help but think why he didn’t try talking to you sooner. They were round and big and even if Jumin would always deny it, he found that feature extremely attractive on women. He smirked when he noticed your nipples were erect. He softly caressed your left nipple with his index finger, feeling it harden and your body tensing under his touch. Experimentally, he put his right hand over your whole left breast and found out it perfectly fit his big hand.

“Look down, my love” he said, and you finally looked at him, after trying to avoid his gaze. “It’s like they were made for my hands” he teased you and you couldn’t help but smile at him, a little embarrassed.

“You are too full of yourself, Jumin Han” you said, but let out a surprised moan when he lowered his head and gave your right nipple a small lick.

“I love you too, Mrs. Han” he answered. Your answer was another moan as he started massaging your left breast while his mouth worked on the right. He made sure he kissed all the exposed skin. He took your nipple softly between his index and his thumb and twisted it just enough to make you squirm under him. His mouth then licked around your areola, putting your entire nipple inside his mouth, and letting his teeth play a little. He used them to hold your nipple and then licked over and over its sensitive spot with his tongue, changing his speed according to how you were moving under him. He made sure all his movements were soft, trying very carefully not to harm you.

Your hands were tangled on his hair, your hips bucking up, trying to get some friction. You couldn’t imagine you could feel so much pleasure just by having someone play with your breasts. Sure, Jumin had squeezed them before over your bra, but you had never had anyone make you squirm in pleasure like your fiancé was doing now. You were a mess of moans that sounded a lot like his name, swearing and begging him to keep doing it.

Jumin looked up with a smirk, loving how much pleasure he was giving you. “Have you ever had an orgasm just by playing with your breasts?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse. Your hips bucked up on their own.

“N-no” you stuttered.

“Guess this is as good time as ever” he smirked and went down to your other breast.

‘Can people actually orgasm just by playing with their nipples?’ would have been the question you would have asked yourself if he had brought that up another time. But when you felt Jumin’s tongue flicking your nipple, kissing and licking your breast while also giving sweet squeezes on the other one, you felt so close to a real orgasm the question didn’t make sense.

The feeling of Jumin’s hard cock on top of you definitely helped you come closer and closer. After a moment, you felt a wave of pleasure all over your body. It was definitely different than your regular orgasms, but God, it was definitely a good one. You moaned loudly, pulling Jumin’s hair and squeezing your thighs around his waist. He left soft kissed on both of your breasts as you rode out your orgasm, smiling at you when you finally looked down at him.

“That was… well… new” you managed to say. Jumin pushed himself closer to your face and kissed your lips.

“I really love all of you. And let me just say, your breasts are breathtaking” he confessed, giving them a playful squeeze, making you laugh.

“I love you too” you smiled, giving him another kiss. You grind your hips up, noticing how hard he still was. “Want me to take care of that?” you asked with a smirk. You bit your lip in anticipation.

“Yes, please do” Jumin answered. You pushed him off and turned over your positions, straddling him on the bed. You suddenly noticed your nightdress was still down. Out of habit, you were about to try and cover your breasts, when you saw the way your fiancé was looking at you. The way his eyes were full of love made her remember how lucky you were to be in a relationship where you were loved as much as you loved. And maybe even a little more. You grabbed your nightdress and pulled it over your head, letting it fall on the floor.

The adoration in Jumin’s eyes made you blush as you bent over to kiss him on the lips.

“How about we get rid of this?” you said, pulling up his pyjama shirt. Jumin started taking it off and you couldn’t imagine anywhere else you’d like to be.

Saeyoung

He’s always up for jokes. He always thought they would go away after he revealed his true persona, stopped being Agent 707 just to be Saeyoung Choi. But after you moved in, he realized making jokes to make you laugh was probably one of the best things he could do.

As time went by, he started looking for other ways to make you smile and the easiest way was to tickle your sides. You would laugh loudly and he felt he could get drunk on that sound.

That day, he decided to upgrade his tickling and grabbed some of your belly while he was tickling you. You were in the kitchen, about to start making dinner when he appeared out of nowhere.

To say he was surprised when you pushed him off and told him to stop would be an understatement. You seemed visibly upset.

“I’m sorry babe, just… I don’t like when you grab my belly”

“But it’s my second favourite thing to squeeze!” he tried to argue. You arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not even going to ask…” you sighed. “But really, Saeyoung. I don’t like it”.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m fat?” you answered, like it way obvious. “I don’t like you reminding me of that. And touching my stomach certainly does”.

“Hey, hey” Saeyoung said, a lot more serious than before. “You’re not fat. You’re not thin either, so maybe a little chubby? But who cares honestly? You’re beautiful, inside and out. Not only you’re a nice and caring human, you also look smoking hot”

“C’mon, stop”

“I’m not joking! You really are hot. You’re curvy and… damn, when you wear cleavage or some tight jeans I swear I have to control myself to not take you somewhere and… you know, have my way with you” he shrugged, blushing a little.

You couldn’t help but laugh. You remembered when Saeyoung was way too shy whenever you wore a short skirt and now here he was, admitting he wanted to have sex with you when you were wearing tight jeans. He smiled, relieved to see you laughing.

“There’s also one other thing that drives me crazy” he said, lowering his voice a little and getting closer. You looked over to the kitchen door to see if you both were alone. The living room was empty, so Saeran wasn’t around.

“Yeah?” you asked with a sly smile.

“Your dresses. Like this one” he said, hooking his finger on the strap your sundress and lowering it down your shoulder. He placed a kiss on your shoulder.

“Why do you like my dresses?” you asked with a smile. Saeyoung straightened his back and looked at you. You could see the honey in his eyes darken and squirmed a little in anticipation. 

“Easy access” he simple answered. Before you could reply, he grabbed the back of your thighs and put you on top of the kitchen counter. Saeyoung kissed you passionately his hands roaming all over your body, squeezing your breasts, caressing your thighs and going over your stomach. You tensed up a little, knowing since you were sitting down, your belly must look even bigger.

“Hey” he said, breaking the kiss. “Stop thinking. I love you. You and your whole fucking body, you hear me?” he thrusted his hips against you, making you feel his erection against your underwear. “You feel how hard I am? That’s how much you turn me on”.

Without losing eye contact, his hand wanders under your dress stroking your thigh and reaching your underwear. You hiss when he passes a finger over it. Saeyoung smirked when he noticed you were already a little wet. He rubbed over the fabric in circles, making your breath hitch. You leaned over and kissed him again, moaning softly with every move his fingers made. Your hands went to his hair, pulling him closer, dragging your nails across his neck, just like you know he liked it, hearing him grunt a little. You caressed his back all the way and gave his ass a playful squeeze. You heard him chuckle.

Saeyoung’s fingers put aside your underwear and started caressing your folds directly. He circled around your entrance and spread his index and middle finger to touch you around your clitoris. You clenched your legs around his hips, wanting more.

Quickly, you unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down your boyfriend’s zipper. You put down your hand between his skin and his underwear, your fingers circling around his throbbing cock. He moaned at the touch, and a little higher when you started pumping your hand slowly, giving him slow strokes. Your thumb circled around the tip, spreading the pre cum over it.

“Fuck, you’re killing me” he grunted against your lips. He circled around your entrance once more and slowly inserted his two fingers inside.

“Saeyoung…” you moaned. You hand involuntarily squeezed his cock a bit, making him let out a moan as well. He kept thrusting his fingers in and out, while you kept moaning next to his ear. Your hand had a firm hold on his cock and started pumping him a little bit faster. Your other hand was gripping his shoulder, feeling you were going to crumble under his touch. Saeyoung started curving his fingers inside of you, quickly finding your sweet spot, grazing it over and over. Your whole body was trembling and you put your head on his shoulder, trying to muffle the sounds you were making.

“Baby, I need you” you whispered. “C’mon, I need you, I want to come around your cock, please” you pleaded. As Saeyoung registered your words, you felt how his cock got even harder. He had never heard you beg for it and now it was his favourite sound.

He grabbed your ass and helped you down the counter. You made a face, since you were already thinking about him taking you right there. Before you could complain, he turned you around and bent you over the counter. He lifted your summer dress, pulled down his jeasd a bit and putting aside your panties, he slowly thrusted himself into you. You let out a whimper, feeling yourself stretch around his width, loving how full you felt whenever he was inside you. He took both of arms and bent them, putting them on your back, grabbing you by the wrists. He started rocking back and forth, the sound of wet skin slapping against each other filling the kitchen, mixed with both your moans. 

Saeyoung had never taken you so roughly. He always took his time undressing you. He even was a bit playful sometimes, but you had never seen him like this. You definitely liked this side of him too, though. You felt the cold counter against your cheek as your boyfriend kept thrusting inside of you, holding on your wrists like dear life.

Saeyoung felt like he was getting closer to his edge, but he was not willing to finish before you. Previously, he was holding your wrists with both hands. He changed so he had his right hand free, his left hand doing his best to grab both your arms behind you. He bent over you, leaving a kiss on your shoulder blade, as his right hand went in front of you, his two fingers pinching your clitoris as softly as he could, and rubbing it. You let out a cry of pleasure.

“Come for me, MC. I want you to come around me too”.

He moved his fingers a faster, loving the sound of your moans. He felt your body trembling and silently thanked God, because he was not far from coming as well. All it took was you screaming his name, his real name, and it made him feel so loved, so seen, he came alongside you with a grunt. You stayed together like that, both of you rocking your hips softly, just enough to ride out each other orgasms.

Saeyoung put your panties and dress back to their places and helped you up. Once you were in front of each other, he kissed you softly, humming contently.

“I have more than a thousand reasons to love you and I think they’re all valid and romantic but… oh God, you really turn me on” he admitted sheepishly, his normal persona showing up again. You chuckled.

He grabbed a piece of paper towel that was next to you and cleaned himself up, putting his cock inside his underwear and buttoning his jeans. He threw the paper on the garbage can and looked at you with a soft smile. “I think maybe a shower is better right now” he shrugged and you laughed softly.

“Yeah, I think so too” you agreed.

“I love you so much” he said again and you couldn’t believe it was possible to love someone as much as you loved him.

“I love you too, baby” you grinned, giving him a peck on his lips.

“Alllll of me?” he teased you, tickling your sides just a little.

“Yes, yes, all of you!” you replied, laughing loudly at his hands. Saeyoung laughed with you and you were about to say something else, when you heard a noise by the kitchen door.

A very disturbed Saeran came into the kitchen with two bags that seemed to be full of groceries.

“Can’t you do it in the bedroom like normal people? I had to wait outside while my ice cream melted, you are like fucking rabbits on heat” he complained, putting his carton of ice cream on the freezer.

You felt your whole face turning red, thinking that you boyfriend’s brother had heard both of you. Were you so loud you could be heard from outside the house? You looked over at Saeyoung who was even redder than you. Saeran sighed, frustrated, and left the kitchen when he finished putting the groceries on their place. A couple of seconds went by in silence before you and Saeyoung couldn’t help but laugh loudly at the same time.

[forestdreamersworld]

Writing Prompts #001

Ah, yes! I love writing prompts about things that don't get enough attention and one of those things is definitely my favorite Greek mytho, Medusa! Ever since I was a young boy and got into Greek mythology like all middle school kids do, I was absolutely fascinated with her tale. Of course, I think the version where Poseidon (wet fish trash) took advantage of her and as a result, she was cursed by Athena is what truly established her as the symbol of protection for young women. Her unfortunate demise by the hands of Perseus feels like a slap to the face for anyone who actually saw her story as something to relate to. Even though in modern times, she has very much become a pop culture topic I don't see enough fics or prompts or stories or art about her. For me, she is a symbol of feminism, the toxic side of women to men relationships, and should be written about more. I want to give her more of a happy ending. I also feel like she is a wlw icon, but that's just me. Art by @ _daifei on twitter

REVENGE

To love the Gods, is a cruel fate that only leads one down a path of betrayal. Make one wrong step, and there was no room for forgiveness from the divinity that we—they—the humans worshipped.

Medusa had learned this the hard way, when no matter how much she pleaded and prayed for the Goddess, Athena, to forgive her, that it wasn't her fault, the Diety was not swayed by her tears. Athena was ruthless, picking up the wreck of a woman by her hair and winding it around her wrist. The rage of the wrathful woman took hold as she pulled on Medusa's hair. Medusa's wail of a cry reverberated off the walls of the temple, her blood shot eyes pleading with the Diety to show mercy. Her lips moved frantically to explain that none of it was her fault, as if the torn tunic and bloodied thighs weren't evident enough. As the Goddess pulled, nearly lifting Medusa off the cobblestone floor, the hairs from Medusa's scalp began to snap away in tufts. The patches of bald skin began to bubble with blood, the blood pooling, then as if rising from a lake, a snake's head appeared. The body would follow and as more hair was removed from Medusa's head, and snakes began to take their place, this is when she saw the true nature of the Gods she once worshipped.

Even now, decades later, the betrayal still hurt. Her vocal cords, still raw from that day, let her know that words, pleas, and begging are for the weak. As she rolled the severed head of the man who came to kill her with her toes, she looked out towards the horizon, twirling his sword with her fingers. The Goddess had punished her once, but to send an assassin after her triggered something within Medusa. Decades of rage and hurt don't go away with time, and don't get buried because the one they are directed toward is a Goddess.

No.

Medusa may have been silent for a long time, but it was because she was waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike her revenge. Now, with these unique weapons sent by the Gods, her plan can finally flow into motion. First, the God of the Seas' head would become her victory chalice.

MODERN RETELLING

It was snowing when he came to Medusa. He looked as if he hadn't aged a day since they last parted ways. His dark, wavy hair pulled back in order to stay out of his eyes and his skin a bit darker due to the long past summer.

He approached her, as bare as he could in such a weather, he wanted her to believe that he meant no harm to her. Despite their countless adventures together, trust for one another was something they never shared, yet, he now needed her more than ever.

He remembered when he first met her, all those years ago. How their meeting would turn his tale into the story that would be told for decades to come. All the lies he spun just to remain the hero in the eyes of many and for her to remain dead and buried. Without her, Perseus would be nowhere. Here he was again, about to ask her the same question that started it all, the one that put them on a different course. Instead of killing her, they became the best duo of his era.

The 21st century may be a different time for them, Gods walked among men and monsters learned that human weapons were on par with anything a Titan could throw at them, but legends were still the same and history was bound to repeat.

He approached her, sitting alone at a park bench late into the night. She had seen him coming, and knew never to take her eyes off the Son of Zeus. Her former assassin.

"Hello, Medusa."

She was lithe and by the way her body moved fluidly, she had a lot of spry in springs still. Immortality had blessed them both.

"Perseus. I never thought the day would come again so I'm hesitant to say, but you look as if you need my help."

LOVE HEALS ALL WOUNDS

It had been a long time since Medusa enjoyed the company of another. After everything that had happened to her dealing with Poseidon, Athena's undeserved punishment, and the recent attempt on her life by Zeus' son, she learned to close herself off to all things.

The narrow escape of her life, made her feel more alone than ever. Abandoning her home, abandoning the only things she could ever love at that time, the statues, was hard for her to bear.

She thought this was another of Athena's punishments. The very realization that this may be fact, sent her into despair. The wrath of the Gods seemed never ending and with that, a brutal and bloodied death seemed to be awaiting Medusa.

Until she fell into the arms of a woman who broadened Medusa's horizon on life.

Medusa never thought it would happen, her time of beauty had long passed and the curse of her gorgon body had firmly seated itself in her life. She thought only misery and growing hatred for all things beautiful and man would replace her hope for more than a life of death and solitude.

Yet, as the fingers of the woman followed the curve of her waist to her hip, Medusa realized relief and happiness were within her reach.

The blind woman caressing her would never meet a fate so terrible as others had that got too close to Medusa.

Medusa would do anything to keep this woman, this feeling, this hope, by her side.

[thelemmerpie]

The recipe

You and your gilfriend were always sportifs, even before dating. Starting young is an advantage in sports, attending the same gym is one in love. Dinners after the gym at night, then texting, then a few drinks, and you had naturally concluded . It's been a few months since you moved together.

You were both great fitness fans, and that was just as obvious on one as on the other. There was also something more and more visible, since your were dating and living together.

Your girlfriend didn't had a outstanding breast size when you met two years ago.She was the kind of girl who could wear a light sweater braless without being noticed. But no matter the cupsize, it was your eagerness in the gym and your habits that bringed you closer.

Gradually, a challenge was set up between you : exercizing in provocative attire when you were at home , with a formal prohibition to disturb the other, upon pain of sexual deprivation. An idea from her, when she was complaining about not being able to finish her session a day when you couldn't resist.

Today's session was a real suffering for you. Not because you had a more ambitious program these days, no. Because every time you lifted the torso, it was to see the above of a chest inflated with helium. Very little to do with the two apples that she would paddle when you met. You no longer counted the number of bras bought then thrown away since they all became too small. The one she was wearing at the time was now tight too. The more days passed, the less the bump under your black underpants was likely to disappear when you practiced with your girlfriend. 

Did she purposely breathe as if you were making love? 

You start another exercise. abs on the bar for you, empty squats for her. You strain and stay a few seconds, eyes closed and muscles voluntarily contracted, in a pose that would make jealous the Greek statues. Your chest lifts and lowers slowly to the rhythm of your breathing, a little vengeance between lovers for the torture that her own chest provokes in you. You feel her eyes on your prominent muscles. open your eyes, cross hers, and you both smile. If none of us break down before the end, the reward would be worth a lot.

You decide to go into her game and not to silence your effort moans. Especially since your purses threatens to explode with each contraction. She replies by bouncing her chest with each ascent, but it has no effect on you. The effort from your muscles and your provocations has made you insensitive to any attack.

You finally lay your feet on the ground for the last time and exhale from ecstasy. A wave of pleasure invades you and calms you down. Relaxed as rarely, you go to a towel and sponge your face, superbly ignoring your girlfriend. Today, it wasnt you who'd lost the challenge.

She finish her series and drink long sips of her water bottle, her hair falling behind her, chest standing proudly, both for better flowing the liquid and in a last, vain attempt to provoke you. Before the useless provocation, she displays a sulky pout and joins you to mop her face. It's the opportunity for you to take an indiscreet look at her chest. 

Does her breasts were than overflowing from her bra at the beginning of the session ? 

It was time to point out the elephant in the room. Both. As well as the suspenders strained to the imposible. But how to do it ? The solution was obvious, and even gallant.

-It would be better with a sport bra, no ? This one doesn't suit you since weeks. 

She doesn't reply and drinks some sips again. Each of you have your special mixes, tailored to your goals. Another rule was to not touch the individual kitchen's lockers (and yet, you're craving for her chocolate). You look at her goblet and remember the slightly sweet aroma of banana and orange that she once had. Nothing to do with the powerful smell of apple, red fruit and something very, very bitter.

 -Can I taste it ? you ask. 

-Make yours. 

-You can give me the recipe, at least ? 

-I don't know, I don't think it's good for you. You're on a dry ? 

-Because it is used to gain weight ? 

-No, it's just that...It's a recipe that Rachel gave me. A girl things. 

-And what if I wanted to have more chest ? 

She misses spitting the liquid. The last time you talked about breasts, other than muscle, was one of the reasons you were together. You were not looking for a woman with model measurements at all costs, and she was complexing on her breasts, thinking they meren't big enough. The sport made up for it, but she needed to have the confidence and reassurance you'd brought her. At least she hadn't attracted the lewd glances of perverts at the gym. Not in front. 

-Ok you're right. It's the drink. 

-It looks powerful. 

Your smile contaminate her. 

-Yeah. So much that Rachel is jealous of it. It shouldn't have been so powerful, but it seems I have some predispositions. 

-There is a limit ? 

She comes near you and crushes her chest against your body. You can feel her warm breath on your throat as she looks up at yours, a naughty smile on her lips. You always liked this look. Making one more head than her wasn't unconnected. 

-I don't know. In any case, I intend to continue. I like it. 

-Then... 

Her bra is so tense that you can only put a phalange of each of your fingers. Slowly, you try to bring the overflowing chest inside, without success. Worse : you feel it slide upward, about to give up its mission and discover the intimacy of your girlfriend. Becoming so tight should have been impossible, right ?

-Can I have the recipe ? you ask again. 

- Only if you guess it. 

-Tasting it ? 

You are about to take the bottle when she stands on tiptoe and brings her mouth to your lips. 

-No. By tasting this. 

She crushes her mouth against yours and you kiss passionately. Your tongues slide on one another, pressed, inflamed, so much so that you are already starting to lower your underpants. However, she grabs you by the wrist and forces you to leave your great soldier alone. No matter, you deepen the kiss by taking away any chance to breathe. She takes the opportunity to push you to your room and send you on the bed. You drop, and bounce off the mattress.You both enjoy without the single shame the vision of the body on the other, congested by the effort. One hand behind the head, the other sliding gently on your abs to the bump of your pants, you said : 

-I didn't feel it well. Can you start again? 

-With great pleasure. 

She climbs on you and you stick her against your chest. The more weeks pass and the more difficult it becomes as her breasts have grown, but it doesn't matter to you. Being as flexible as you two means being able to find other ways. 

You rock her on the back and her arms stretched over her just excited more. New kiss, furious, passionate, but you still don't guess. 

-It's a complicated thing. 

-Bingo. 

You unravel her bra without trouble. If you were in a bad cartoon,they were jumping at your face so the pressure is strong. You caress the underside of her breasts, smooth, as perfect as they were before. Then you notice the red marks left by the too tight clothing. Concerned about his comfort, you repeat : 

-You need new ones. 

-Not now, she said with a sulky pout. I still have to show them to some sluts. 

-The ones who made you complex about them ? 

-Oh yeah. I met one and she was green with envy, stuck between her husband and two kids.

She sat on the bed, legs bent under her thighs, and waved her breasts now released under your nose. You imagine her doing the exact same thing in front of her former executioners, with a bra ready to explode, and can't hold back a smile. Revenge is a dish best served cold. Two huge iced watermelon, in this case. 

-Serves them right.

She holds her hands to your cheeks and kiss you again, slowly, with a gentleness contrasting with her flabby words. A kiss of thanks for not judging her and enjoying her deserved revenge. You, a job that pleased her and a life fulfilled after years of petty mockery. Yes, serves them right. 

You drop your lips on her chin, then her neck and collarbone, accompanying his fall. A groan of pleasure escapes from her lips.

 -You give up ? she asks.

 -No, I know how to make you talk. And I will not stop until I know.

 A long way leads you to a heavy, large breast, swollen by the miraculous drink. Your wet tongue moves agilely around one of her halos while your hand softly caresses the other. Under you, you feel her legs twists and her hand moving down her belly, looking for her clit. You let her play with, then force her to suspend her gesture by kissing her flat, firm and muscular stomach. Small and soft kisses, tender, lower, always lower. 

-Hold on... 

-Too late. 

Luckily, you were pretty good at cunnilingus, so much that she didn't allow you to do it everyday. It was a sign of a sleepless night and a slow rise to heaven, celestial music of her groans included. This time, on the other hand, you don't give up. The commissure of her thighs is the last area to receive your kisses while you say : 

-I told you, I'll get this recipe by any means. Don't you want to see if my pecs can expand ? 

Only her eyes appears to you so much her breasts have grown, two suns above two hills. Inspiring deeply, you lie against the sheets and rub your tense sex, still hidden by the black boxer. A simple way to please you enough while waiting for the more expert hands of your girlfriend. 

The following minutes were nothing but long moans of pleasure. No matter, she would surrender soon.