#tree sea lightning

[barid-bel-medar]

Every now and again I want to go back and work on my Naruto long fic purely because it bothers me that I didn't do more with it.

[maviyenot]

[manticore239]

In the first place, evolution was experimented.

Element Spell Jars

These spell jars are great for connecting your altar to the elements. I personally used larger jars than I usually would for a spell jar for these. That way they could be more of a statement piece on my altar

Earth

- Malachite, Smoky Quartz, Pyrite and/or Peridot

- Mugwort

- Cypress

- Sand or Dirt

- Sage

- Cedar

- Small twig or dried leaves

“I tend to my growth each day”

Water

- Moonstone, Aquamarine, Celestine and/or Lapis Lazuli

- Sea Salt

- Shells or Sand from the beach

- Thyme

- Jasmine

- Seaweed

- Ivy

- Lotus Flower

“I flow with the tides of the universe”

Fire

- Carnelian, Sunstone, Citrine and/or Red Jasper

- Sunflower

- Cinnamon

- Black Salt

- Calendula

- Nettle

- Poppy

“I ignite my passion and spark action”

Air

- Amethyst, Angeline, Flourite and/or Amber

- Lavender

- Peppermint

- White Sand

- Feather

- Lemongrass

- Incense Ash

- Pine

“I breathe in clarity and prosperity”

[homunculus-argument]

I believe that it all goes down to patterns. The way that the veins inside your arm fork and turn in the same kind of patterns as the roots of trees, same as the shape of lightning, surely galaxies are somehow arranged in a similar pattern, even if it's on a scale beyond our full comprehension. Everything repeats the same patterns, big and small, and if you can't see it, you're not looking big or small enough.

That's why as I've grown from my hard-edge reddit atheist phase I've become an agnostic. Who is to say that things far beyond our comprehension cannot exist? Consider the sea sponge. Living in the sea bed, happily living a normal life, with no knowledge nor awareness of the existence of human life. Who is to say we are in any way superior to them? Aren't we also unaware of all things beyond our comprehension?

What makes us assume that there is no chance or possibility that some life form so different from ourselves that we could not properly recognise it as life might suddenly whisk us into a world equally impossibly different, and look at us, thinking in thought so alien that we would not comprehend them as thoughts, going

"Ah, a creature perfectly formed for me to scrub my sweaty nuts."

[hermemescabin]

*Percy shaking his fist at a tree circa lightning thief/sea of monsters*

Annabeth is MY best friend now

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Tarzan X Single Mother Reader

The storm was unexpected.

Waves slammed against the fractured hull of the ship as the night sky shattered with lightning. Your baby wailed against your chest, wrapped in whatever blankets you’d managed to grab before chaos took the crew.

The sound of splintering wood, screaming sailors, and crashing waves mixed into a cacophony of despair.

Then, a plunge into freezing black water.

You didn’t remember how you survived. Only the pull of maternal instinct, your baby's crying voice a lifeline in the storm.

You washed ashore on an unknown jungle coast, battered, trembling, and alone with your son.

Except... you weren't.

The baby cried, but it meant he was breathing.

That was all that mattered. You kissed their damp head and whispered promises you didn’t know how to keep.

"We will be okay. I will protect you."

You built a crude shelter from palm fronds and branches. Days blurred into one another searching for water, for food, trying to quiet your child's hunger. Your body ached. Your mind is tired.

But you weren't alone.

At first, you noticed footprints near your camp, large, bare, and human.

Then came the food which were fruits placed in careful piles, bowls carved from bark filled with clean water, and once, a rabbit skinned and cleaned.

Something or someone was watching you.

You tried to stay calm. Maybe it was a local. A tribal man? Or someone else who had survived like you?

But then you saw him.

He emerged from the trees; the stranger was tall, wild-haired, shirtless, his skin bronzed by the sun. Muscles tensed beneath every movement, but he crouched low, green eyes pointed at you with eerie stillness.

Then he vanished, back into the trees.

You told yourself it was a hallucination.

Until the next morning, when he stood just beyond your camp's edge, holding your baby.

Your heart stopped. You rushed forward. Yet you realised that the baby wasn't crying.

In fact, he cooed, nestled calmly in the handsome man's massive arms.

"Safe," the man said simply, his voice low, rough, like language was unfamiliar to him.

He stepped forward, carefully handing the child to you. "Safe with me."

You backed away, clutching your baby. "Who are you? What do you want?"

His head tilted. He looked confused.

"You. Mate"

The word landed like a stone in your gut. You stared at him, horrified.

"I don’t know you!"

He blinked.

"I know you. Long time. Since sea came. I watched. You… strong. Protect cub." His gaze softened slightly. "Good mate."

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your blood ran cold.

From that day forward, he never left.

He followed at a distance, silently watching. Every night, he lingered near your shelter, unseen but felt.

When you gathered water, he would appear from the trees, walking alongside you as if you belonged to him.

He would pick fruit and place it in your basket, like a lover trying to please you.

And your baby? Adored him. Laughed when he appeared. Reached out for him.

That's why you finally decided to give him a chance to learn about him.

And from the information you managed to collect with hardship due to his lack of vocabulary.

You found out about his name, age, and how he grew up with animals like gorillas.

He also told you about how an english woman called Jane taught him the vocabulary before she left to return back home.

That made you warm up to him.

You taught him words, through gestures, repetition, soft correction.

And he mimicked you like a devoted student, eager to understand.

Tarzan was intelligent in a raw, primal way, his voice gradually shaping your language like it was his birthright.

Tarzan had found the remains of a treehouse, half-rotten but salvageable.

It was his parents’ long abandoned home, tangled in vines and broken wood. and he began repairing it.

For you. And your son.

You watched him every day, his muscles rippling as he lifted beams like they weighed nothing, his hands bloodied from work, but never complaining.

He carved handrails so you wouldn’t fall. Laid moss and furs across the floor so your baby had somewhere soft to crawl.

"I fixed it for you, and our son" he said one day, gesturing proudly. "Our home."

You touched the wall. It smelled of cedar and sun, warm, clean, and strong.

Just like him.

And you began to fall for him.

Because out here, in the wild, he was everything for you, food, shelter, and safety.

When you cried, he held you, when your child was sick, he sat awake through the night, bathing them in cool river water and humming low, wordless lullabies.

He didn't ask to sleep beside you, but one night, when the wind howled and your baby curled up between you, you didn't send him away.

You almost forgot the life you had before. The pain. The betrayal.

Until he came back.

Your ex-husband.

It was early morning when you heard the shouts, male, unfamiliar, human. Tarzan stilled like a hunting cat.

His green eyes narrowed at the intruder.

You rushed down the ladder of the treehouse, heart pounding, baby strapped to your back. And there he was.

Soaked. Sunburned. Bruised, but unmistakably him.

"Y/N?" he gasped. "Is it really you?"

You froze as he ran toward you, grabbing your arms.

"God, I thought you were dead! I came back, hired a search crew. The boat is nearby, it’s not too far down the coast. We can leave! We can-"

"Stop," you whispered.

He blinked, confused. "What?"

And then Tarzan stepped out of the trees.

Your ex froze, taking in the Tarzan appearance with wild eyes and an unreadable expression.

"What in the world is this?"

Tarzan moved beside you, putting a hand over your shoulder in a protective manner.

You didn’t speak as your former glared.

"You living with this freak now? Did you lose your mind out here?! He is dangerous, he is a savage!"

You felt your baby stir at the rising voices. You rocked him gently, trying to stay calm.

Tarzan’s breathing had grown shallow. Slow. Eyes locked on the intruder like a predator sizing up prey.

"Go," Tarzan said, voice flat.

When you opened up to Tarzan about the abuse you endured and how you fled on that ship to escape your ex-husband, it broke his heart, and left no doubt in his mind who the real villain was.

Your ex turned, glaring at Tarzan.

"Excuse me?"

"Go back to the tree house and protect our son.”

"She is my wife. That is my son!”

Tarzan tilted his head slowly.

"No."

The man tries to walk past Tarzan to get to you, but he doesn't get the chance to do so as Tarzan stabs him in the chest with his spear, killing him instantly.

A silent gasp escapes your lips, as you hide your son's face in your embrace.

The way Tarzan turns around to face you with a small smile as if he hasn't committed a murder in front of you is shocking.

But his proposal was something else.

"Can I be your husband now?"

[flux1563]

The Beast Party

Another part of The Best Party

tags : orgy, sex party, squirting, ass and pussy gape, gangbang. 

Words : 11245

On a relaxing afternoon, Kim Minju, a former member of the idol group IZONE, and Kim Chaewon, a current member of LE SSERAFIM and also a former IZONE member, were hanging out together in the heart of Seoul. It had become somewhat of a tradition for the two to catch up whenever their busy schedules allowed — a comforting return to familiarity amidst the whirlwind of their separate lives.

Chaewon, true to form, was a whirlwind of energy, her laughter echoing through the cozy caf�� they had chosen for their meetup. A free spirit with a penchant for spontaneity, she launched into vivid tales of her latest adventures, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Her stories, often filled with late-night escapades and unexpected twists, left Minju both amused and slightly horrified. As Chaewon animatedly shared the latest gossip, her hands moved like a silent film starlet narrating a scandalous drama, drawing laughter and wide-eyed reactions from her old friend.

One evening, as the two friends lounged on the couch, surrounded by takeout boxes and forgotten TV shows, Chaewon's latest idea struck like a bolt of lightning. "Remember that wild party we had?" she began, her voice low and mischievous. "What if we went even wilder? Like, really wild. We could go on vacation and throw a beast party!"

Minju's eyes widened, and she sat up straight, a forgotten chopstick slipping from her fingers. "Africa?" she whispered, her mind racing with the possibilities. The continent was a canvas of adventure, a place where their most daring desires could become reality.

Their conversation grew heated, a tangible excitement charging the air. They scoured the internet, eyes glossing over images of vast savannahs and exotic beasts. They weren't just looking for a party, but a once-in-a-lifetime experience that would blow the doors off their mundane lives.

Their excitement grew with each click, and before they knew it, their dreams of a wild African adventure had crystallized into a plan. They'd leave the concrete jungle behind and immerse themselves in a place where the rules were theirs to rewrite. Little did they know, this journey would be the catalyst for a tale of passion and debauchery that would make their previous escapades seem tame.

Minju and Chaewon took a much-needed break from their frenzied preparations and stepped onto the golden sands of a secluded African beach, the sun setting in a fiery blaze behind them.

The villa they'd rented was a modern marvel, nestled in the embrace of lush palm trees, its gleaming white walls and thatched roof whispering of luxurious secrets. Inside, the cool embrace of air conditioning and the scent of tropical flowers greeted them like a soothing balm. They flopped onto the plush couches in the open-plan living area, their laughter bouncing off the high ceilings.

"Can you believe we're actually here?" Minju said, her eyes wide with wonder. "It's like a dream come true."

Chaewon leaned back, a smug smile playing on her lips. "I told you we could make it happen. Now, let's get down to business. We've got a party to plan!"

But Minju's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, where the fiery sun melted into the sea. "But we need to take a rest first," she murmured, the fatigue of their travels finally catching up to her.

The next day, they prepared themselves for the ultimate beach day, each donning an erotic bikini that screamed of their daring spirits. Minju's was a simple yet elegant black two-piece that accentuated her curves without revealing too much, while Chaewon opted for a flamboyant red number that barely contained her ample assets. The fabric was so skimpy it was practically a second skin, leaving little to the imagination.

Their eyes met in the mirror, and Minju felt a jolt of excitement as she took in Chaewon's reflection. She'd never seen her friend look so... predatory. "You're going to turn heads," she said, her voice thick with desire.

"That's the idea," Chaewon purred, her hands smoothing over her hips. "But we need to make sure everyone's invited. Let's start with the locals. They know how to throw a party like nobody's business."

They spent the next few hours exploring the beach, their eyes peeled for any signs of life. The ocean rolled out before them, a vast, untamed sea that mirrored the wildness they sought. They approached a group of muscular young men playing beach volleyball, their dark skin gleaming with sweat. Chaewon wasted no time, sauntering over with a seductive smile. "Hey, guys," she called out, her voice carrying over the sound of the waves. "You wouldn't happen to know how to throw a party around here, would you?"

The men stopped mid-game, their gazes drawn to the two foreign beauties. The tallest one, a man named Kofi, grinned, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. "We throw the best parties on this coast," he boasted. "But we need more than just us."

Minju and Chaewon exchanged glances, their hearts racing with anticipation. "We want to invite everyone," Minju said. "Make it a week-long celebration. We've got the villa, the drinks, and the stamina. What do you say?"

Kofi's eyes lit up. "Seven days, seven nights of pure madness," he mused, a hint of challenge in his tone. "You're on. But you'd better be ready for what we bring to the table."

The two friends nodded eagerly, their imaginations already running wild with the possibilities. They had eight days to make their wildest fantasies come true, and they were going to use every single moment to its fullest. They returned to the villa, adrenaline pumping through their veins as they set about transforming the serene retreat into a hedonistic playground.

The days that followed were a whirlwind of excitement and preparation. They spent hours on the beach, soaking in the sun's kiss while they discussed party themes and guest lists. They swam in the warm waters, letting the waves crash over them as they laughed and plotted. The local market became their personal treasure trove, as they bought exotic foods and decorations that would make their event the talk of the town.

"This night gonna go wild for us," Chaewon said with a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling like the diamond necklace she'd bought from a street vendor. She lounged on a sunbed, sipping a cocktail that was as vibrant as the setting sun. The alcohol had loosened her inhibitions, and she began to dance to the music playing softly from a nearby radio, her body moving in a way that was both sensual and uninhibited.

Minju watched her friend with a mix of admiration and nervousness. She knew Chaewon's power over men, and she hoped that their plan would not only be successful but also safe. They had spread the word far and wide that their villa was open to any man who sought a night of unbridled pleasure, a promise that had sent whispers through the local community like wildfire.

As night descended upon them, the air grew thick with anticipation. The scent of spicy meat sizzling on a makeshift BBQ mingled with the sweet aroma of tropical flowers, creating an intoxicating bouquet that hung heavy over the partygoers. The DJ, a local talent they had discovered in the market, had set up his decks on the beach, the bass thumping through the sand. The lights from the villa cast a warm glow over the gathering, which grew by the minute.

Minju and Chaewon didn't know how many men had responded to their invitation, but as they surveyed the growing crowd, they realized it was more than they had ever dreamed of. Each one was a potential dance partner, a conversationalist, or perhaps even something more. They felt a thrill of excitement, their hearts pounding in their chests like drums echoing the rhythm of the night.

As the party grew wilder, so did their drinking. The cocktails flowed freely, each one more potent than the last, and the two friends threw caution to the wind, letting the alcohol dissolve their inhibitions like sugar in water. Minju giggled as she sipped from a concoction that changed color with every sip, feeling the warmth spread through her body like a lover's embrace. Chaewon, ever the social butterfly, flitted from group to group, her laughter as potent as the drinks she handed out.

The music grew louder, the beats pulsating through the night like the heart of the jungle itself. The sand beneath their feet vibrated with the rhythm, and before long, the two friends found themselves at the center of the makeshift dance floor, their hips swaying to the hypnotic melody. The men watched them with hungry eyes, their gazes lingering on the way their bikinis barely contained their voluptuous forms.

Suddenly, the DJ couldn't resist the siren's call any longer. He abandoned his decks, leaving the music to play on repeat, and strutted over to Minju and Chaewon. His movements were fluid, almost feline, as he slipped between them, wrapping an arm around each of their waists. They laughed in surprise as he began to grind against them, his muscles flexing with the beat. The other partygoers cheered, creating a circle around the trio, egging them on with whistles and claps.

The air grew electric as the music's tempo increased. The men in the crowd, their eyes glazed with lust and alcohol, began to step closer, reaching out to touch the two friends. Minju felt a hand slip beneath the fabric of her bikini top, and she gasped, her body tensing. But instead of fear, she felt a thrill of excitement. This was what they had come for. Chaewon's eyes met hers, and she saw the same hunger reflected in her friend's gaze.

As if on cue, the DJ reached behind him and untied the string of his board shorts, letting them fall to the sand. He stepped back, revealing a cock that was indeed larger than any they had ever seen. It was thick, with a girth that could easily wrap a fist and a length that seemed to stretch on forever. The men in the crowd murmured in awe, their own desires swelling as they took in the sight.

The DJ's confidence grew with every beat of the music, and soon, more men began to follow his lead. They pulled down their swim trunks, exposing themselves to the warm night air. Each cock was a testament to the raw, unbridled lust that pulsed through the gathering. The sight was overwhelming, a veritable smorgasbord of male virility.

But it was the DJ's member that truly stole the show. With a diameter that could easily wrap a hand and a length that defied belief, it stood proudly before them like a monument to carnality. The crowd's murmurs grew into a dull roar, a primal chant that seemed to resonate with the very earth beneath their feet.

The sight was both terrifying and thrilling, and Minju felt her pussy throb in response, wet with a need she hadn't realized she had. Chaewon's eyes widened, and she licked her lips, a wicked smile playing on her face as she took in the display before her. "Looks like we're in for a wild ride," she whispered into Minju's ear, the heat of her breath sending shivers down her spine.

Minju could only nod, her eyes still transfixed on the monstrous cock that seemed to have a life of its own, pulsing in time with the music. The DJ took a step closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from him, the promise of pleasure and pain wrapped up in one delicious package. She knew that she'd never be able to handle something so... substantial, but the thought of trying sent a thrill of excitement through her body.

"All of us are naked now," they murmured in unison, their voices a siren's call that echoed through the night. One by one, the partygoers began to shed their clothing, revealing their own desires for the world to see. The beach became a sea of naked flesh, each body a canvas of wanton need.

Minju's eyes were drawn to one man in particular, his cock a testament to the beauty of the African night. It was as big as her forearm, thick and veiny with a girth that had to be at least three inches in diameter. "Look at that," she whispered to Chaewon, her voice a mix of awe and apprehension. "It's like nothing we've ever seen before."

Chaewon followed her gaze, her pupils dilating with excitement. "Twelve inches lengths and three inches diameter, if it's an inch," she murmured, her hand absently reaching down to caress her own clit. The thought of taking such a monstrous member inside her was both terrifying and exhilarating. "I want to feel it," she breathed, her voice barely audible over the music.

Minju felt a tremor of excitement run through her as the man with the colossal cock approached them, his stride confident and predatory. "You'll get it soon, baby," he said, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to resonate in her very core. His eyes were dark with lust as he looked her over, his cock jutting out before him like a spear.

The other men gathered around, their tongues already out, eager to taste the sweetness that was Minju and Chaewon. They began to lick them, starting at their toes and moving slowly up their legs. The sensation was strange, a mix of tickling and pleasure that made Minju's knees wobble. Chaewon moaned, her eyes rolling back in her head as the men took turns, their tongues dancing over every inch of their skin.

One by one, the men knelt before them, their tongues flicking out to taste the nectar that was their pussies. Minju gasped as the first man's tongue met her clit, sending shockwaves through her body. The sensation was unlike anything she'd ever felt, a symphony of pleasure that had her bucking against the sand. Chaewon's eyes were squeezed shut, her body arched as she rode the waves of pleasure that crashed over her.

Their hands reached out, tentatively at first, to the men surrounding them. They touched, explored, and teased, learning the contours of each cock as if they were sacred artifacts. The men groaned in unison, their hips jerking with every stroke of the girls' soft fingers. The party had become a ritual, a tapestry of desire that wove together the wildness of the jungle with the decadence of civilization.

Minju and Chaewon's tongues danced over the velvety heads of the men's cocks, tasting the salty pre-cum that beaded at their tips. They took turns, each one eager to prove their skill, to show the others what they were capable of. The air was thick with the scent of arousal, a heady perfume that intoxicated them further.

The men groaned in unison, their eyes rolling back in their heads as the two friends worked in tandem, their mouths moving in a rhythm that was as ancient as it was erotic. Chaewon took the lead, her mouth sliding over one cock while her hand stroked another, her movements a symphony of seduction. Minju watched, her own desire spiking as she saw the effect they had on the men.

"Give us all that cock," Chaewon demanded, her voice a sultry purr that sent a shiver down Minju's spine. The words were a declaration of war on their inhibitions, a battle cry for their most primal instincts. The men didn't need any more encouragement. They surged forward, eager to satisfy the hunger in the girls' eyes.

Minju's breath hitched as she felt a cock nudge against her wetness, the tip teasing her swollen clit. It was the DJ, his member so thick it was like a battering ram at her gates. She spread her legs wider, welcoming the intrusion, the anticipation building to a crescendo within her. Chaewon, on the other hand, was surrounded by a group of men, each eager to claim a piece of her for themselves.

The man with the twelve-inch monstrosity didn't waste any time. He grabbed Chaewon's face and forced his cock into her mouth, his grip unyielding. Her eyes watered as she took him in, her throat stretching to accommodate his girth. He began to thrust, the sound of her gagging muffled by the cacophony of the party. Despite the fear and discomfort, she felt a twisted thrill, her body responding to the sheer power and dominance he exuded.

Meanwhile, two more men positioned themselves behind Minju, their cocks standing at attention. She felt the tip of one nudging at her pussy, the other at her ass, both so thick they seemed to be testing the limits of what she could handle. Her heart raced as she looked over at Chaewon, who met her gaze with a look that was a mix of terror and excitement. This was it, the moment of truth.

"Ready?" one of the men murmured in her ear, his breath hot and heavy with desire. Minju nodded, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as she braced herself for what was to come. With one swift movement, they entered her, one after the other, filling her completely. She screamed out, the word "fuck" torn from her throat with the force of a tornado. It was more than she'd ever felt, a sensation that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

The man with the colossal cock took his position at the back, his grip firm as he guided himself into her tight, unexplored depths. Minju's eyes rolled back in her head as she felt herself stretched to the limits of endurance, her body trembling with the sheer size of him. Chaewon, on her knees beside her, watched with wide eyes, her own mouth full of another man's cock. She could feel her friend's pain, a mirror to her own, and she reached out to grip her hand, a silent offering of solidarity in their shared debauchery.

The two men inside her began to move in unison, their rhythm a brutal dance that had her body jolting with every thrust. She could feel every vein, every pulse of their cocks as they claimed her, their girth stretching her to the point of agony. Her pussy and ass burned, but amidst the pain was a blossoming flower of pleasure, a sweet agony that had her hips rising to meet them, eager for more.

"Aghh, my pussy and ass stretch so much," Minju groaned, her voice a desperate cry that was swallowed by the roar of the party. Her words were a siren's call, drawing more men to her, eager to claim a piece of the exotic beauty before them. They watched with hungry eyes, stroking themselves as they waited for their turn, the sight of her being used so thoroughly only adding to their arousal.

Chaewon's mouth was a cavern of pleasure around the thick shaft in her mouth, her cheeks hollowed with the effort of taking him in. She could feel his cock pulse with every beat of his heart, his excitement growing as he watched his friends claim Minju. The taste of him was musky, a blend of sweat and lust that she found oddly intoxicating. Despite her own discomfort, she felt a thrill run through her, a heady mix of power and submission.

Minju's eyes rolled back in her head, her body responding to the relentless pounding. She felt her orgasm building, a tsunami that she had no hope of holding back. The man with the colossal cock was a maestro, his strokes deep and sure, hitting a spot inside her that she didn't even know existed. The pressure grew, a tight coil in her belly, until she could bear it no longer.

With a scream that was lost in the din of the party, Minju squirted, the force of her release so intense it drenched the men behind her. Chaewon watched, her eyes glazed with a mix of shock and arousal as her friend's body bucked and writhed in pleasure. The sight of Minju's pussy gushing was a revelation, a display of sexual power that had the men around her stumbling over themselves to get closer.

The man with the massive cock took this as his cue to let go, and with a triumphant roar, he began to pump his seed into Minju's welcoming depths. The sensation of being filled so completely was almost too much for her, and she collapsed onto the sand, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her orgasm. Chaewon felt a wetness spread between her own thighs, the sight of Minju's pleasure triggering a climax of her own. She squirted, her pussy spraying the man who had been fucking her face, her juices mingling with the spit and cum that already coated her features.

As the first round of passion waned, the men withdrew, their cocks slick with the girls' cum and their own. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady mix that seemed to intoxicate everyone present. The men looked down at Minju and Chaewon with a mix of awe and lust, their seed spurting from their pussy and ass, painting the sand with a sticky, white trail. The girls lay there, panting and spent, their bodies limp as ragdolls.

"Our dreams come true, Chaewon," Minju murmured, her voice shaky with the aftermath of her climax.

"I think my pussy keep spasming," Chaewon gasped, her breathing still ragged as she leaned against Minju, their bodies sticky with a mix of sweat and cum. The feeling of the cool sand against her back was a stark contrast to the fiery passion that had just consumed her.

"Mine too," Minju agreed, her voice a hoarse whisper. The man who had just filled her to the brim with his seed looked down at her with a smug smile, his eyes lingering on the gaping O her pussy had become. His friends crowded around, their own cocks still erect and glistening with pre-cum, eager to take their turns.

One by one, they stepped up, each taking a moment to admire the sight before them. They were like animals in heat, each more primal than the last, as they claimed Minju's body with a ferocity that was both terrifying and exhilarating. She felt their weight upon her, their cocks sliding into her, stretching her until she thought she would split in two.

The men took turns, their grunts and groans mixing with Minju's cries of pleasure. Each round was a new adventure, a new level of depravity that she had never before experienced. She felt her body respond to their every touch, her pussy contracting around their cocks as if it had been made just for this. Chaewon, not to be outdone, was busy taking on two men at once, her mouth and pussy a never-ending source of pleasure for them.

Their juices flowed freely, mingling with the sweat that coated their bodies. The sight of Minju's pussy, stretched and dripping, was too much for the men to resist. They took turns, each one more eager than the last to feel her squirt around them, to be the one to make her body convulse with pleasure. Her moans grew louder with each round, her voice hoarse from the sheer volume of her passion.

The partygoers watched, their own desires stoked by the sight of Minju and Chaewon being taken so thoroughly. The beach had become a carnival of lust, a place where inhibitions were left at the door and every desire was allowed to roam free. The music continued to play, the bass pounding in time with the rhythm of their hips, as if the very earth was in sync with their carnality.

As the night wore on, the men grew more aggressive, their strokes more frenzied. They were like a pack of wild animals, each fighting for dominance, each eager to leave their mark. Minju felt herself become a part of the landscape, her body a battleground for their desires. Yet, through it all, she never once felt less than the queen of the night.

The men took her to the edge and beyond, pushing her to heights she had never dared dream of. Her squirts grew stronger with each round, her body a fountain of pleasure that seemed to have no end. Chaewon, too, was lost in her own world, her eyes glazed with lust as she took on more and more men.

Ten rounds, then eleven, and still they came. Each man took his turn, each one more vigorous than the last. The beach was a blur of limbs and flesh, a tapestry of desire and debauchery that stretched as far as the eye could see. And through it all, Minju and Chaewon remained the center, their bodies a canvas for the men's pleasure.

Their cries grew louder, their bodies weaker, until finally, with a collective roar, the men released their seed. It spurted into Minju, filling her to the brim until she could take no more. She collapsed, her body trembling with the force of her climax, her pussy pulsing with the aftershocks of pleasure. Chaewon followed suit, her legs giving out as she was drenched in cum.

As the twelfth round came to an end, the crowd erupted into applause. The men, their cocks now sated, stepped back, their chests heaving with exertion. They had given the girls the experience they had craved, and in return, Minju and Chaewon had given them a night they would never forget.

The two friends lay there, panting and exhausted, their bodies slick with sweat and cum. They looked at each other, the reality of what they had just done setting in. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a moment that had surpassed any party they had ever thrown in Seoul.

Minju's eyes rolled back in her head, her body shaking as she felt another round of pleasure build up inside her. She didn't think it was possible, but her pussy was still pulsing, begging for more. Chaewon, equally spent, leaned into her, their bodies sticking together with the remnants of the men's passion.

Their breathing grew shallow, their hearts racing like wild horses as the men continued to worship them. Each new cock brought with it a fresh wave of sensation, a symphony of pain and pleasure that seemed to never end. It was as if their bodies had been taken over by some primal instinct, a hunger that could never be fully satiated.

With each new round, Minju felt herself slipping further into the abyss, her mind a whirlwind of sensation and emotion. The men's grunts and groans grew fainter, the world around them a blur of color and sound. The only thing that remained clear was the feeling of their cocks inside her, a never-ending dance of dominance and submission.

As the night grew darker and the stars twinkled above them, the men grew bolder. They pushed and pulled at her, their hands roaming over every inch of her flesh as if they could never get enough. Her pussy clenched around them, her ass spasming with each thrust, a silent scream of pleasure that echoed through the night.

The girls' moans grew weaker, their bodies no longer able to keep up with the relentless onslaught. Yet even as they reached their breaking points, the men didn't relent. They had become beasts, driven by a lust that seemed to have no end. Minju felt her vision swim, the world going dark at the edges.

Suddenly, with a gasp, she felt it. Her orgasm hit her like a sledgehammer, her body arching off the sand as she squirted once more, the force of it so intense that it sent shockwaves through the very air. Chaewon's eyes rolled back in her head, her own body responding to the symphony of pleasure.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. The men stepped back, their cocks still erect but their eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and awe. They had taken the two friends to the very brink of their limits and back again.

Their bodies lay still, their breathing ragged and uneven, as the reality of what they had just done set in. They had given themselves over to the night, to the wildness of Africa, and had come out the other side forever changed.

"I think we should stop, it's been fifteen rounds," one of the men spoke up, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the universe. His words hung in the air, a sobering reminder that even the most hedonistic of nights must come to an end.

Minju's body continued to quiver, her pussy and ass clenching around the two cocks still buried inside her. Her squirts had turned into a constant flow, a river of pleasure that seemed to have no end. She could feel her muscles protesting, begging for respite, but the desire was too strong, too all-consuming to ignore.

Chaewon lay beside her, equally spent, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her own climaxes. Her face was a mask of ecstasy, her eyes glazed over as she too succumbed to the relentless pounding. The men had become a blur of skin and muscle, a never-ending stream of cocks that filled her to the brim.

Finally, with a collective groan that seemed to shake the very foundation of the earth, the men withdrew. The last of them pulled out of Chaewon's pussy, leaving it gaping and swollen, a testament to the night's excesses. Minju felt a pang of jealousy as she watched the cum dribble out of her friend's tight hole, her own desires flaring up once again.

The beach was silent except for the sound of the waves and the heavy breathing of the exhausted partygoers. The air was thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a reminder of the carnival of lust that had unfolded before their very eyes. Minju's body was a map of bruises and bites, a roadmap of pleasure that she would wear proudly for days to come.

Her eyes fluttered open, the world coming into focus slowly. Chaewon lay next to her, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath, her face a mask of exhaustion. The men had moved away, leaving them alone in their post-coital bliss. Minju pushed herself up onto her elbows, her body protesting the movement but her spirit unbroken.

Her eyes traveled down to her pussy, still glistening with cum, and she watched in amazement as it spasmed, releasing another stream of fluid into the night air. It was as if her body hadn't gotten the memo that the party was over, the orgasms still coming in waves even when she thought she had nothing left to give. Chaewon's body seemed to echo her own, her pussy clenching and releasing in a silent symphony of pleasure.

"Done for tonight guys, they got faint," one of the men announced, his voice a mix of concern and satisfaction. The crowd of men around them nodded in agreement, their cocks still hard but their eyes filled with a newfound respect for the two friends who had taken them on a journey they would never forget.

Minju and Chaewon were hoisted up by the strong arms of the beach volleyball players and carried back to the villa, their legs limp and their bodies covered in the sticky residue of the night's festivities. The moon cast a soft glow over the path, lighting their way as they stumbled through the door, their hearts racing from both the exertion and the excitement of the evening.

The girls were brought to a grand floor-to-ceiling bathroom, the white marble gleaming in the dim light. They were laid down gently on the cold, hard surface, their bodies shivering from the sudden change in temperature. The men looked down at them with a mix of lust and affection, their own cocks still standing tall despite the hours of use.

Without a word, one of the men stepped forward and positioned himself between Minju's legs, his cock still slick with her juices. He began to piss, the warm stream hitting her swollen clit and sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. Chaewon watched, her own desire flaring up again as she felt the warmth of another man's urine cascade over her. It was a strange, almost tender act, a communion of bodies that transcended the mere physical.

The men took turns, their golden rivers mingling with the cum and sweat that coated the girls. The scent was pungent, a potent mix of sex and bodily fluids that seemed to fill the room. Minju's body reacted involuntarily, her pussy clenching around the warmth, her squirts joining the stream to create a small pool on the marble. Chaewon moaned, her own pussy spasming as the urine hit her sensitive flesh.

The sensation was oddly soothing, a balm to their abused bodies. They lay there, letting the piss wash over them, cleansing them of the night's excesses. It was as if the very essence of the men was being transferred into them, marking them as their own.

When the last man had emptied himself, they stepped back, their eyes never leaving the girls' prone forms. The music from the party outside grew faint, the night air a gentle caress against their skin. The moment hung in the air, a tableau of desire and submission that neither Minju nor Chaewon would ever forget.

With a nod to each other, the beach volleyball players turned on the jet shower, the powerful stream of water hitting the marble floor with a sharp hiss. The spray arced over the girls' bodies, the water a warm embrace that began to wash away the evidence of their night of unbridled passion. The men stepped aside, leaving them to the mercy of the water, their eyes lingering on the two friends as they retreated from the bathroom.

Minju felt the water hit her face, her eyes still squeezed shut from the intensity of her experiences. She let out a soft moan as the warmth began to soothe her, the pressure of the jets massaging her sore muscles. Her pussy, though still pulsing with need, seemed to have finally found a moment of reprieve. Chaewon lay beside her, equally spent, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

The men had been surprisingly gentle in their aftercare, their rough hands tender as they had helped clean the sticky residue from their bodies. They had worked as a team, wiping away the evidence of their passion with a thoroughness that was almost clinical.

As the last of them left the bathroom, the door closing with a soft click, Minju and Chaewon were left alone. The only sound was the steady drip of water from the showerhead, a gentle reminder of the river of fluids that had flowed between them.

Minju's body was a canvas of ecstasy, her pussy and ass gaping open like a pair of surprised O's, a silent testament to the men's unyielding dominance. Chaewon's legs were sprawled out, her own pussy and ass still pulsing with the aftershocks of their shared experience. They lay there, unmoving, their bodies a testament to the unbridled passion they had just endured.

"Wow, their pussies are still gaping," one of the men said to the others, his voice filled with amazement. The rest of the group chuckled, their laughter a mix of disbelief and admiration. They had never seen anything quite so depraved, and yet, there was something undeniably alluring about the two women's vulnerability.

The night had been a blur of pleasure and pain, a symphony of flesh that had left them all reeling. But as the first light of dawn began to peek over the horizon, the reality of what they had done set in. They had pushed the boundaries of what was acceptable, and the aftermath was both exhilarating and terrifying.

 

Minju and Chaewon lay there, their bodies a tapestry of bruises and bites, their pussies and assholes gaping open like open flowers, begging for more. The cool water from the shower had brought a slight respite, but it was the gentle touch of each other's hands that truly helped to soothe their spirits. They climbed to their feet, their legs wobbly as newborn foals, and stumbled into the massive bathtub that was part of the villa's luxurious bathroom.

The shock of the sperm continuing to ooze out of them was something they had not anticipated. It was as if their bodies were a sponge, soaked in cum and now slowly releasing it back into the world. They giggled to themselves as they slid into the warm embrace of the water, feeling the last remnants of the men's seed slide out of them with a soft plop. The tub filled with a murky white mixture, a silent testament to the marathon of fucking they had just endured.

"Did we go too wild last night?" Chaewon whispered, her voice hoarse from screaming.

Minju chuckled, her body still buzzing from the endless stream of pleasure. "Maybe," she said, her voice equally raspy. "But look at us now. Our pussies are still giving us a standing ovation."

They slid into the tub, the warm water enveloping them like a comforting embrace. It washed over their sore muscles, the jets massaging away the tension of the night. The sperm and piss swirled around their bodies, a bizarre mix that seemed to symbolize the unity they had shared with the men.

As the water grew murkier, Minju reached for the soap, her hand shaking slightly. She began to lather herself up, her movements methodical and precise. Chaewon watched her, a strange sense of awe filling her chest. Despite the pain, she felt a sense of pride at what they had achieved.

They had pushed themselves beyond their limits and come out the other side, forever changed. The soap slid over Minju's bruised skin, bubbles popping as they touched the myriad of bites and scratches that adorned her body. Chaewon followed suit, the foam clinging to her curves as she washed away the remnants of their wild night.

When they could no longer ignore the call of their weary bodies, they stepped out of the tub, the water draining away and revealing their exhausted forms. The plush bathrobes that had been left for them were like a warm embrace, the soft fabric caressing their sensitive skin as they wrapped themselves up in them. Their feet padded softly against the cool marble, leaving wet footprints as they made their way back to the bedroom, the warmth of the robes a stark contrast to the chill of the floor.

The bed was a heavenly sight, the crisp white sheets beckoning to them like a cloud. They collapsed onto it, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs. Despite the pain and the stickiness that lingered, they felt a deep sense of satisfaction, a bond that went beyond friendship, forged in the crucible of their shared experience. They lay there for a moment, panting and trembling, their hearts slowly returning to a more normal rhythm.

Then, the knock came.

It was a firm, insistent knock, echoing through the quiet villa, a stark contrast to the symphony of pleasure that had filled it just hours before. Minju's eyes snapped open, her heart racing. Chaewon stirred beside her, a sleepy groan escaping her lips as she too was jolted from the haze of their afterglow. They stared at each other in shock, the reality of their situation crashing down upon them like a tidal wave.

Minju's hand trembled as she reached for the knob. As she pulled the door open, she was met with a sight that was both erotic and intimidating: a sea of naked, aroused men, their eyes hungry with desire.

"We heard it was a week-long party," Kofi, the DJ from the beach, said with a wink. "We didn't want to miss our turn."

Minju and Chaewon shared a look that was half fear, half excitement. They had never intended for things to go this far, but there was something in the air that night, a primal energy that had taken control of everyone involved. With a collective sigh, they allowed their bathrobes to be taken off, their bruised and swollen bodies once again on full display.

The men's eyes were like those of hunters who had just spotted their prey, filled with a mix of awe and greed. They had seen these two women in their most vulnerable state and were eager to claim them once more. The air grew thick with lust as the robes fell away, revealing the two friends' still-dripping pussies and the marks of the previous night's passion.

Minju felt a rush of excitement and fear mingle in her chest. Her body was still raw from the previous night's festivities, but the sight of the men's hard cocks made her stomach flutter. Chaewon, ever the wild one, gave a low, guttural growl, her body visibly responding to the challenge laid before them.

With a grace that seemed almost predatory, the men stepped forward, their bathrobes sliding off their muscular frames to reveal their arousal. The room was filled with the sound of fabric hitting the floor, the gentle thuds echoing in the quiet. Their cocks stood tall and proud, a silent promise of more pleasure to come.

The first man approached Minju, his cock thick and veiny, the head glistening with pre-cum. Without a word, he pushed her onto her back, her legs falling open as if on instinct. His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he positioned himself at her entrance. With one swift movement, he plunged into her, filling her up without a moment's hesitation.

"Fuckk, still sore," Chaewon screamed, her voice a mix of pleasure and pain as she was claimed by another man. Her body arched off the bed, her toes curling in ecstasy as he slammed into her, his cock stretching her beyond what she thought possible.

Minju felt a similar wave of sensation as she was taken by Kofi once more, his rhythm relentless and demanding. Despite her exhaustion, she found herself meeting his every thrust, her pussy clenching around him like a vice. Her body had become an instrument of pleasure, a vessel for the men's desires.

The days turned into a blur of sexual excess, each night more intense than the last. The local men took turns with them, their appetites seemingly insatiable. They had become the main attraction of the week-long party, the center of a sexual circus that never stopped. The girls' bodies bore the marks of their encounters, a tapestry of bruises and bites that grew more intricate with each passing hour.

And yet, through it all, there was a strange sense of camaraderie that had developed between them. They had become a team, each one pushing the other to new heights of pleasure, each one eager to explore the depths of their sexuality. They had discovered something within themselves, a power that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

As the week progressed, the men grew more daring in their requests, eager to claim every inch of the two friends. They had become a part of the fabric of the party, a symbol of the unbridled lust that had overtaken the beach villa. The other guests watched with a mix of envy and admiration, their own sexual escapades seemingly tame in comparison to the marathon sessions that Minju and Chaewon endured each night.

The two women had grown to crave the attention, the pain a strange comfort in the sea of pleasure. They had become addicted to the feeling of being used, of being the object of so much desire. And with each new cock that filled them, they grew more confident, more in tune with their own desires.

The days passed in a haze of orgasms and exhaustion, the two friends rarely leaving the bed except to eat or use the bathroom. Their bodies were pushed to the brink, their pussies and assholes gaping and swollen from the constant attention. Yet, they never said no.

On the final night, as the party reached its peak, the men gathered around the bed, their eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and satisfaction. They had saved their best for last, a night that would be talked about for years to come. The girls lay there, their bodies trembling with anticipation, their hearts racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

The last man stepped forward, his cock the largest they had ever seen. Chaewon looked at him with a mix of trepidation and desire, her eyes wide with the knowledge of what was about to happen. Without a word, he positioned himself at her tight, stretched asshole, her pussy already filled to the brim by another man. With one hand, he gripped her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her throat.

With the other, he pushed into her, the head of his cock stretching her open. She screamed, her body bucking against the intrusion, but he didn't relent. Inch by inch, he filled her, his cock claiming her in a way that was both brutal and beautiful.

Minju watched, her own pussy being pounded by a different man, her body a trembling mass of nerves and pleasure. She felt a strange sense of pride as she watched her friend take the final challenge, her body stretched to its limits.

And as the night grew darker and the music grew louder, the two friends reached new heights of ecstasy, their screams mingling with the crash of the waves outside. They had become legends, the center of a sexual odyssey that had changed them forever.

As the last man pulled out, their bodies lay there, spent and used, their eyes glazed over with a look that was half-defeated, half-triumphant. They had done the unthinkable, and in doing so, had discovered something new about themselves. They had become more than just Minju and Chaewon, the roommates and idol from Seoul. They had become the embodiment of desire itself, a living, breathing testament to the power of sexual freedom.

The partygoers erupted into applause once more, their cheers a cacophony that filled the night air. The two friends looked at each other, their bodies slick with cum and sweat, their spirits unbroken despite the relentless onslaught of the past week. They had become the embodiment of sexual endurance, a spectacle that drew both admiration and envy from the crowd.

The men took turns, each one more eager than the last to claim his piece of the two exhausted women. They approached with a hunger that was almost feral, their cocks hard and insistent. The rhythm of their fucking never changed, a steady beat that had become a part of Minju and Chaewon's existence. The pain was a familiar friend now, a constant companion that they welcomed with each new thrust.

Each man took his time, savoring the feel of their tight, abused pussies, pushing deeper and harder as if trying to conquer some unspoken challenge. Minju felt a strange mix of pride and fear as she took each one, her body adapting to the relentless pace, her mind a haze of sensation. Chaewon lay beside her, her body a mirror image of her own, a symphony of pleasure and pain that seemed to have no end.

The night grew wilder, the air thick with lust and the scent of sex. The men grew more aggressive, their movements more primal as they claimed the two friends in every conceivable way. They were no longer individuals; they were a single entity of desire, a living, breathing representation of the human capacity for pleasure.

And through it all, Minju and Chaewon held on, their bodies stretched to the limit, their minds soaring on the wings of ecstasy. They had become one with the night, with the beach, with the very essence of the party. The line between reality and fantasy had blurred, leaving them in a state of perpetual arousal that seemed to have no end.

The final round approached, the air in the villa electric with anticipation. The men had saved their most extreme desires for last, a crescendo of depravity that would leave the girls forever changed. They had pushed them to their limits, and yet they still hungered for more.

The local DJ, Kofi, took the lead, his eyes burning with a hunger that was almost frightening. He pulled Minju onto all fours, her ass in the air, a silent invitation to the men who waited eagerly. One by one, they took her, filling her pussy and ass with their seed, the sounds of their pleasure a symphony of grunts and groans that seemed to shake the very walls.

Chaewon watched, her own body being used by the others, her eyes never leaving her friend's. There was a connection there, a bond that went beyond friendship, beyond any experience they had ever shared. They were in this together, two souls forever linked by the wildness of the night.

The final man stepped up, his cock the largest of all. With a roar that seemed to shake the very earth, he plunged into Minju's gaping asshole, his thrusts brutal and unyielding. She took it all, her body shaking with each powerful stroke, her eyes never leaving Chaewon's.

The tension in the room grew palpable, the men holding their breath as they watched the two friends reach the peak of their endurance. Chaewon's own climax grew closer, her pussy clenching around the cock that filled her. The room was a blur of skin and sweat, a maelstrom of passion that seemed to have no end.

And as the final man reached his climax, filling Minju with his hot cum, the two friends shared a look that was part triumph, part terror. They had survived the week, their bodies a testament to the power of sexual desire. They had become more than mere mortals, they had become goddesses of lust, worshipped by the men who had sought to conquer them.

As the last of the men withdrew, the two friends collapsed onto the bed, their bodies trembling with exhaustion. They lay there, their breathing shallow and uneven, the room silent but for the sound of the waves outside. The party had reached its climax, and as the sun began to rise, casting a soft glow over their bruised and spent forms, they knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

The second night of the week-long party had been just as intense as the first. The local men had once again claimed them, their hunger for the two friends seemingly insatiable. As dawn approached, they had been led into the bathroom, their legs shaking with fatigue. The men had taken turns pissing on them, their warm streams washing over their bodies in a strange ritual that had become a nightly occurrence.

But this time, something was different. The men didn't wait for the shower to be turned on, they didn't watch the water cascade over the girls' bodies, washing away the evidence of their lust. Instead, they simply left, their eyes filled with a mix of respect and awe. The urine grew cold on Minju and Chaewon's skin, a stark reminder of the power dynamics that had been established.

Their bodies continued to spasm, their pussies pulsing with each aftershock of pleasure. They had pushed themselves to the brink and come out the other side, their bodies no longer under their control. The men had used them, claimed them in the most primal of ways, and now they were left to bask in the aftermath.

The silence was deafening as they lay there, their breathing the only sound in the cavernous bathroom. The marble was sticky beneath them, the floor a testament to the night's events. They were alone, their hearts racing from the sheer intensity of their experiences. And yet, there was something exhilarating about it all, a sense of freedom that neither had ever felt before.

Their bodies grew still, the tremors of pleasure subsiding as the last of the men's cum oozed out of them. The bruises and bite marks stood out starkly against their skin, a roadmap of their week of excess. But amidst the pain, there was a sense of accomplishment, a knowing that they had tapped into something deep within themselves.

As the last of the men disappeared from view, Minju reached for Chaewon's hand, their fingers entwined in a silent promise. They had been through hell and back together, and their friendship had emerged stronger than ever. They had become warriors of desire, untouchable and unbreakable.

They lay on the cold marble floor, the stickiness of the cum beneath them a constant reminder of the night's events. Despite the discomfort, exhaustion claimed them, their bodies succumbing to the much-needed reprieve of sleep. Chaewon's breath grew deep and even as she drifted off first, her chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm.

The sun had barely crested the horizon when they were jolted awake by the acrid scent of urine and the sticky warmth of cum seeping from their overused pussies and assholes. Their eyes snapped open, the harsh reality of the new day assaulting their senses. Minju groaned as she pushed herself up onto her elbows, her body protesting every movement. Chaewon's hand found hers, a silent offering of comfort as they took in the aftermath of their sexual marathon.

"I think... I regret it," Chaewon 

murmured, her voice thick with sleep and pain. The words hung in the air, a stark contrast to the wild cries of pleasure that had filled the villa just hours earlier. Chaewon stirred beside her, her eyes opening to meet her friend's gaze.

Minju looked down at her own pussy, still sticky and bruised from the relentless pounding. A small trickle of cum slipped out, a silent answer to Chaewon's question. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "It still feels... full."

They managed to get to their feet, their legs wobbly and unsteady. The floor felt like it was moving beneath them, a gentle reminder of the waves that had crashed against their bodies the night before. Chaewon reached for the shower handle, her hand trembling with the effort. The water came on with a rush, the steam billowing out to fill the room.

"Come on," she said, her voice still thick with the night's pleasures. "Let's clean up."

They stumbled into the shower, the hot water washing over their bruised bodies like a balm. They stood under the stream, letting the warmth soothe their sore muscles and wash away the stickiness of the night. Minju looked at Chaewon, the question in her eyes. "Did your pussy keep squirting a little bit until now?" she asked, her voice filled with a mix of curiosity and concern.

Chaewon nodded, her eyes closed as the water cascaded over her face. "Mine too," she murmured. "It's like it's not finished with us yet."

They stepped out of the shower, the steam clinging to their skin like a lover's embrace. They wrapped themselves in plush towels, the softness a stark contrast to the rough treatment their bodies had endured. The bedroom beckoned, the bed a sanctuary from the world outside.

And, as if by some unspoken agreement, the villa remained pristine, the evidence of their depraved night erased as if by magic. The sheets were fresh, the floor clean, the air faintly scented with the sweet smell of tropical blooms. It was as if the very walls had absorbed their cries of ecstasy, the room a silent witness to their sexual odyssey.

Minju couldn't help but feel a twinge of gratitude as she looked around the space, her body still humming with the aftermath of pleasure. "We are lucky," she said to Chaewon, her voice filled with wonder. "The guys always clean up the room for us."

Chaewon nodded, her eyes distant. "It's like we're in some kind of twisted fairy tale," she murmured, her fingers tracing the fresh bruises that adorned her breasts. "But instead of a dragon, we have an endless supply of cock."

They climbed into bed, their exhausted bodies sinking into the plush mattress with a sigh of relief. The clean, crisp sheets enveloped them in a cool embrace, a stark contrast to the sticky mess they had left behind. They lay there, side by side, their hearts beating in sync with the gentle pulse of the ocean outside.

Minju closed her eyes, her mind racing with images of the men's faces, the feel of their cocks inside her, the sound of their moans. Despite the pain, she felt a strange sense of satisfaction, a feeling of having conquered something profound. Chaewon's hand found hers, their fingers intertwining as they lay in silence.

The third night of the week-long party had started innocently enough, with the two friends sipping cocktails by the pool as the sun set over the horizon. The local men had been more attentive than ever, their eyes never leaving the girls' bodies as they flitted from guest to guest, ensuring everyone's needs were met. But as darkness fell and the party grew more raucous, the air thick with desire, something within Minju had shifted.

As she lay on the plush bed, her body still sticky from the shower, she felt the mattress dip as the first man of the evening joined them. She didn't even bother to open her eyes, the anticipation of his touch already making her pussy clench with need. But when she felt his cock pushing against her, she was taken aback by the suddenness of it all.

Without a word, without a single gesture of consent, she was filled once again, his thickness stretching her already tender pussy. Chaewon stirred beside her, a soft moan escaping her lips as she too was claimed by another eager participant. They had become so accustomed to the constant intrusion that it almost felt natural now, a part of their daily routine.

"When did you come in?" Minju managed to ask, her voice a hoarse whisper as she felt the weight of the man's body on top of her. "Is it already night?"

Chaewon moaned with a little voice, her eyes still closed, lost in the sensations of the man's rough entry. "I don't know," she murmured, her hips already beginning to rock back to meet his thrusts. "Does it matter?"

The man chuckled, his grip on her hips tightening. "Not at all," he said, his voice a dark rumble. "You're both so beautiful, so open." He leaned down, his teeth grazing her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. "So eager."

Minju felt a strange mix of fear and excitement as she heard the click of cameras, the flashes of light piercing the darkness. She knew they were being watched, their every move recorded for posterity. It was a thrill that she had never experienced before, a heady mix of power and vulnerability. She looked at Chaewon, whose eyes were open now, the same mix of emotions swirling in their depths.

The men took turns, each one eager to leave his mark on their bodies, to claim a piece of the two friends for himself. The cameras rolled, capturing every gasp, every moan, every drop of cum that spurted from their abused holes. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoed through the room, a symphony of desire that seemed to have no end.

The night was a blur of cocks, of hands and tongues and teeth, of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain. They were drilled in every possible way, their pussies and assholes stretched beyond what they had ever thought possible. The men took turns, their faces a mix of lust and concentration as they sought to outdo one another in their pursuit of pleasure.

And as the gallon of cum filled them, their bodies quivering with each new round, Minju felt something within her shift. It was no longer about the party, the fashion line, or even the money. It was about this, the raw, primal connection between flesh and desire. She had become a conduit for their pleasure, and in doing so, she had discovered something about herself that she never knew existed.

The local men had noticed their lack of vocal response and took it as a challenge. "The video is bad when you two don't moan and speak," one of them said, his voice low and demanding. The words sent a jolt through Minju's body, and she understood what he wanted. The cameras were rolling, the audience eager to hear the sweet sounds of their pleasure.

Chaewon, ever the performer, took the lead, her moans growing louder, more exaggerated with each thrust. Minju followed suit, her voice joining the chorus of passionate cries that filled the room. They spoke to the men, whispered sweet nothings and dirty words that made them growl and pump harder. It was a symphony of lust, each note a declaration of their surrender to the night.

Their lovers grew more aggressive, their strokes more punishing as they sought to elicit the reactions they desired. Minju felt a strange sense of power as she watched the men respond to their cues, their eyes glazed with need as they pushed themselves closer to the edge. She had become a maestro, conducting the symphony of their desires with her voice and her body.

The room grew hotter, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat. The men took turns filming and fucking, their phones capturing every moment of the two friends' degradation. And amidst it all, Minju couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of pride. They were the stars of this show, the center of a universe that revolved around their pleasure.

"Again, squirt for us," one of the men ordered, his voice gruff with desire. Chaewon's eyes snapped open, a look of determination crossing her features. She knew what they wanted, knew the power that lay in her ability to perform. With a deep breath, she pushed back against her partner, her pussy contracting around his cock as she forced herself to orgasm once more.

The room erupted in cheers as she squirted, the evidence of her pleasure arcing through the air like a fountain. The man filming her let out a groan, his hand shaking with the effort of capturing the perfect shot. Minju felt a thrill run through her at the sight, her own pussy clenching with envy. She had never felt so alive, so in control.

The third night had started with a ferocity that had taken even Minju by surprise. The local men had wasted no time, their cocks already hard and demanding as they claimed the two friends the moment they had settled into the bed. There was no gentle warm-up, no tender kisses or sweet whispers. It was raw, animalistic, and it was exactly what they needed.

Minju's mouth remained open, a silent scream of pleasure escaping her lips as cock after cock filled her to the brim. Each time she came, the cum of the man before spilled out of her mouth, mixing with her own saliva as she gagged and swallowed. Chaewon, equally lost in the haze of pleasure, had her face buried in the pillow, her cries muffled by the fabric.

The party had become a marathon of lust, and the two friends had become its champions. As the night stretched on, their bodies had become a canvas for the local men's desires, painted with sweat and cum. The air was thick with the scent of sex, a potent cocktail that intoxicated them further. They had transcended the limits of pleasure, each new sensation a revelation of their own carnality.

It was almost 3 AM, and yet the party showed no signs of winding down. The local men, fueled by a mix of alcohol and adrenaline, seemed to have an endless supply of energy. They took turns with Minju and Chaewon, their eyes gleaming with the thrill of the chase. The girls had become more than just participants; they were the embodiment of desire itself.

As the night grew later, the rhythm of the music grew more primal, the bass thumping through the floorboards like the pulse of a giant beast. The air grew thick with the scent of sex and sweat, a heady aphrodisiac that only served to drive the men to greater heights of passion. And yet, amidst the chaos, Minju and Chaewon remained the calm center, their bodies accepting each new partner with an almost mechanical grace.

Finally, as the first light of dawn began to seep through the curtains, the men grew satiated. They had taken everything the girls had to offer and then some, leaving them trembling and spent. With a final round of applause, they helped the exhausted duo to their feet, leading them unsteadily back to the bathroom. The cold marble floor was a stark contrast to the heat of the bed, sending a shiver up Minju's spine as she stepped onto it.

Chaewon's legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the floor, her body still quivering with the aftershocks of her last orgasm. The men chuckled, their eyes gleaming with satisfaction as they stepped over her, heading back to the party. Minju leaned against the vanity, her hand shaking as she reached for the shower handle. The water was cold, almost painfully so, but it was exactly what she needed.

The spray hit her body, the chill making her gasp as it washed away the sticky mess of the night. She looked down, her pussy still gaping, the muscles inside spasming with each aftershock. The sight of her own body, so used and abused, only served to heighten her arousal. Chaewon joined her under the spray, her eyes meeting Minju's in the steamy mirror.

They were a mess, cum dripping from their mouths and down their chins, their breasts red and bruised from the rough handling. Yet there was something undeniably erotic about it all, something that made Minju's heart race even as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her.

Chaewon leaned against her, her body trembling with the aftershocks of her own climax. "We can't keep this up,".

Minju nodded, her eyes glazed over with the intensity of the night's events. "We need to rest," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the pounding of the water.

Their legs finally gave out, and they collapsed to the floor, the cool tiles a welcome reprieve from the sticky mess that had been their bed. The water rained down on them, the coldness a stark contrast to the heat that still lingered in their loins. They leaned against each other, their bodies trembling with the effort of standing.

The men had retreated, their laughter echoing through the villa. "After they faint, they can still keep squirting and shaking" one of them said, his words carrying a mix of amazement and contempt. "Such sluts, the two of you."

[facts-i-just-made-up]

Why no Super Mario Iliad or Aeneid though?

These are in fact the basis for the two Mario Galaxy games. It's not well known that every Mario game has its roots in mythology. While Mario 3 is well known to be based on several works of Greek Theater, and Mario 2 is clearly inspired by The Arabian Nights, the original Super Mario Bros. is the least known to have been based on, quite exactly, Dante's "Inferno."

The nine circles of hell in Dante's work are the inspiration for each set of 4 side scrolling levels, with each of Bowser's castles being collectively inspired by the ninth circle and transition into purgatory.

The first circle of Dante's hell is "Limbo" where he meets each of the virtuous but unbaptized poets who inspire him along his way. All of them Roman "friends," or in Italian, "cumpà," the origin of the English slang "Goomba." Each of them becomes a literal stepping stone toward his goal of finding his Princess Beatrice, flattening for him to walk through the stone abyss.

In the second layer of hell, Dante encounters the punishment for lust, in which a "whirlwind of lovers" manifests the sinful as fish attempting to swim aimlessly through a windy sky. Dante continues ever downward.

Gluttony in the third circle of hell is punished in eternal darkness, where bulbous white trees thrive, containing the damned within them, eating them as they feasted in life.

The fourth circle, Greed, is full of gold coins atop unreachable mushroom growths. Only a vine from Minos allows Virgil and Dante to climb away.

Deeper still flows Styx, the river of the wrathful. It holds ferocious sea beasts and damned alike who attempt to swamp Dante as he travels ever onward toward the city of Dis, where heretics dwell.

Dis, a tower made of squares and bottomless pits reveals The Beast Geryon, depicted as riding within a cloud, tormenting heretics with spines and impaling them on flagpoles bearing the names of their fraudulent beliefs.

The seventh circle is a wasteland for the violent where canons fire forever. Those who committed violent acts are shot, devoured by flying turtle beasts, or turned into trees like the gluttonous before them.

Hell's worst common sinners lay in ten walled ditches called "Bolgia." The ten great walls in Mario's penultimate level are a direct reference, as are the Brotherhood of the Hammer who built the walls referenced by the "Hammer Brothers." These hold gamblers, liars, and lazy authors who write excessively long jokes instead of working on the story they were commissioned to write.

At the end of each layer, Virgil explains to Dante that Beatrice is in another place. Urging him to keep going even beyond where he and other righteous dead may wander. All the way toward the final central circle, the castle of Hell itself.

Finally in the circle of traitors, Dante meets the devil on a bridge over troubled lava where he breathes flame from under his spiked shell upon the three worst traitors in history, Judas who betrayed Christ, Brutus who betrayed Caesar on an unknown date, and the "Traitor to Come," who is said to be a grotesque orange antichrist who will "sell out his nation" for a "Faulty carriage that travels on the power of lightning."

Finally, Dante finds Beatrice, his princess, who takes him to purgatory beyond the core of the Earth, where he ascends to heaven after touching the emblem of her name, the letter "B." He begins his new quest in Dante's "Purgatorio," which holds the Donut Plains, Chocolate Islands, Vanilla Domes, and Butter Bridges of what would be adapted into Super Mario World for the SNES.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Zeus for the ‘favorite places’ series? 🥺🥺 I binged those this morning and I LOOOOOVE the way you write passion. So adoring yet feverish!! I love love love porn with FEELING lol and you’re so good at that

A/n: I can do that 🫡 but that is so sweet because i do not think I write good at smut.

ZEUS’S FAVORITE PLACES TO BE INTIMATE WITH YOU — HIS WIFE

As the King of the Gods, Zeus is a being of storm and splendor, thunder and warmth — but with you, his beloved wife, he becomes something else entirely. Not just ruler, not just god. With you, he becomes a man who craves closeness, who finds solace and longing in the shared hush between heartbeats. And though Olympus stands tall and proud above all, there are sacred places scattered across realms where he chooses to love you fully — not just with his body, but with the storm of his soul.

1. The Peak of Mount Olympus – Under the Stars

At night, when the stars burn like diamonds against velvet, Zeus leads you to the highest point of Olympus, where the air hums with celestial magic and the wind carries only silence and starlight. It’s not just the height or grandeur that draws him here — it’s the way the heavens curve around you, like the cosmos bends just to witness your union.

He wraps you in his cloak, warm as lightning and soft as summer air, and lays you down atop white marble warmed by divine fire. Here, he takes his time. His touch is reverent, worshipful. He traces constellations across your skin with kisses, naming stars after the places you make him feel. His voice, deep and thunderous, grows hushed when he murmurs your name against your throat — the sound echoing across the night sky like prayer.

Here, he is not just the God of Thunder.

He is yours.

2. In the Heart of a Storm

There’s a wildness in him that few understand — but you do.

When storms rage over the sea or sweep through ancient forests, Zeus sometimes appears to you in a flash of lightning and wind. He pulls you close, into the eye of the storm, where the world holds its breath. The sky roars with power, yet here — in his arms — there is a furious kind of peace. Rain lashes the earth, thunder splits the heavens, and still, all he sees is you.

He kisses you with the intensity of crashing waves, pressing you against stone, tree, or temple — wherever nature shelters you. His passion in these moments is raw and consuming. His hands grip like a tempest, his mouth seeks yours like lightning to earth, and his voice — low and commanding — promises you’re the calm he’ll always come back to.

These are moments when his divinity crackles at the surface.When even the heavens blush at how deeply he worships you.

3. The Garden of Hesperides – Among the Golden Apples

Hidden beyond mortal eyes, the Garden of Hesperides is a place of eternal twilight and impossible beauty. It is one of your favorite places — so he’s made it one of his, too. The golden apples glint in the dusk-light, and the air smells like sweet ambrosia and spring rain.

Here, he is gentle. There’s a serenity in his movements as he guides you through flowering trees and glowing fruit, until you find a bed of soft moss beneath a canopy of blossoms. You laugh as he lays you down and crowns you with a garland of moonflowers. He touches you like you’re the most fragile secret he’s ever been entrusted with. The leaves rustle above like the hush of wings, and his whispers bloom along your skin.

This is where he shows you tenderness.Where even the King of the Gods bows to the sanctuary of your body.

4. In the Hall of Stormlight – Your Private Chambers in Olympus

Not even the other gods may enter here.

This chamber was crafted by Zeus himself, just for you. The walls are made of etched stormglass, shimmering with soft golden light that shifts with the sky. Your bed is draped in silk woven from starlight and thunderclouds. Every detail reflects you — his queen, his lightning, his steady flame.

Here, the intimacy is slower. Sacred. He takes his time unwrapping you from layers of robes and jewels, telling you how radiant you look in the flicker of candlelight. His hands memorize every inch of you like scripture, and when he presses his lips to yours, it’s not as a god. It’s as a man who would kneel at your feet just to hear you sigh his name.

In this room, you are the only thing that can bring a god to his knees.

5. Beneath the Sacred Olive Tree – The Old Earth’s Heart

Far from Olympus, in a secret grove blessed by Gaia, there stands an olive tree older than time itself. You found it together centuries ago, and ever since, it’s become your secret — a place where his divinity dims, and all that’s left is love.

He brings you there when the world becomes too loud, too heavy. He lays beside you in the grass, dappled sunlight playing across your bare skin as birds sing in distant branches. His love here is slow and sun-drenched — the kind that tastes like honey and warmth and roots grown deep.

Sometimes, he doesn’t say a word. Just holds you close as his fingers tangle in your hair and your heartbeats echo through the hollow of the earth. Here, you are not Queen of the Gods. And he is not Thunder incarnate.

You are simply two souls — ancient, entwined, and utterly devoted.

6. Inside a Temple Built in Your Honor – Lit by Flickering Flame

Tucked deep in a sacred valley stands a temple Zeus commissioned long ago — not for himself, but for you. Your likeness is carved into marble columns, your name etched into the altar where offerings of rose petals and honey are still made. But Zeus’s favorite part of the temple isn’t the grandeur. It’s the quiet hush that falls when he draws you into the inner sanctum, the way his hand slides into yours with reverence, like he’s returning to holy ground.

He kneels before you — not as king, but as a man who has loved you across millennia. And when he presses his forehead to yours beneath the low glow of candlelight, everything becomes still. He shows his devotion not with words, but in the slow way he holds you, the way his touch echoes ancient vows. Time forgets itself here.

This is where his love becomes ritual.

7. Inside the Eye of a Lightning Bolt – Between Seconds

Time doesn’t move here.

Caught between the strike of lightning and the moment it touches earth, Zeus pulls you into a place where nothing exists but you and him. Suspended in the raw pulse of energy, you float within silver fire and gold sparks, wrapped in his arms and cloaked in something divine.

He touches you like lightning dances — electric, precise, and impossibly fast, yet gentle in a way that surprises even him. The heat is not burning, but igniting. Every look he gives you is a flash. Every breath, a rumble of coming thunder.

When he kisses you here, it steals your breath and replaces it with stars.

This is where he lets you see him — not just as king, not even as a man — but as the storm incarnate. And he gives himself to you anyway.

Zeus may rule the skies and shape the fates of mortals and gods alike. But when he looks at you, there is only one truth.

You are his storm and his stillness. His wild and his home.

And wherever he loves you — whether under stars or amidst thunder —

He does so as if the heavens themselves were made jealous.

[glamourscat]

୨ৎ Beautiful as...? BLLK edition

BACHIRA, CHIGIRI, BAROU, KAISER, RIN, ISAGI, REO, NAGI, SHIDOU

Bachira: beautiful as a fair carnival

His light and contagious smile can brighten a whole room. His presence, in a way, makes you feel like a child again. Running around and seeing the world through “naive” eyes. Staring off in space taken aback by the bright, colourful lights. High on way too much sugar. Seeing the beauty in life, aware that there are dangers and challenges out there, but for now, not knowing them is better than anything.

Chigiri: beautiful as spring

When the leaves come back, filled with life and green. Bright, vibrant flowers dot the grass. He is a splash of color that persists even on the darkest days, a lingering reminder that “everything will be okay.” The sun will shine again tomorrow.

Reo: beautiful as the ocean

The calm waves, the sea breeze and that distinctive seaside smell. The sand between your toes, the warm embrace of the sun and the cool water wrapping you in a blanket of shivers and warmth at the same time.

Shidou: beautiful as a museum

Different artists, different paintings, different forms of art. A carefully threaded puzzle filled with emotions, explosions of thoughts, liberty, and need. The need to scream, to ensure someone hears it. The need for a revolution. The hope that someone will remember you.

Kaiser: beautiful as a thunderstorm at night

Not everyone likes it, but many still enjoy it. The clouds fill the dark sky, illuminated by occasional flashes of lightning. It can give you chills just as it can give you comfort.

Isagi: beautiful as the moment after it stops raining

The smell lingers in the air, following you wherever you go. The sky starts to open up, grey clouds mixing with white and the sky is turning a lighter shade of blue. The faint sun rays start to poke through, a welcome touch against your cold skin. The few drops of water still present on the leaves of the trees might, or might not, fall on your head as you walk under them.

Nagi: beautiful as heavy snow

That serene feeling of no school, no work, no worries. The streets filled with mountains of snow, cold yet inviting to jump into. At first glance, soft yet hard and firm. Playful and forgiving when it wants to.

Rin: beautiful as a summer night

Nothing is forever. Summer, just as it came, will end too. It’s the feeling of looking out of your window, smelling the scent that’s unique to summer. Hearing the night insects’ serenade in the distance as you look at the stars with nothing particular on your mind. There’s a nostalgia hitting you, you’re not sure why. Your chest feels a bit heavier and emptier at the same time. You find yourself closing your eyes to soak in this feeling.

Barou: beautiful as fire

Destructive in some cases, yet warm and comforting in others. Wild and untamable. You think you have the upper hand but one piece of wood too much and everything is ablaze. Only the most skilled know how to control it. Not tame it, but understand it. Being able to turn the wild, bursting flame into something softer, something that feels like home.

© GLAMOURSCAT (all rights reserved. do not share, modify, translate and re-upload my work outside of tumblr)

[barid-bel-medar]

Last Sentence Game

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).

Thank u for the tag @1flyingcat

He almost regrets giving Kinoe Hashirama’s scroll. Kinoe had never been able to use the jutsus to his satisfaction, but until the revelation concerning Tobirama-sensei’s great granddaughter having Mokuton it didn't matter. His own ability with Mokuton is gallingly middling, so keeping the scroll for himself had been worthless.  However, without it he has almost nothing he could present to the Harunos. Tobirama-sensei’s kinjutsus are all locked in the Hokage library. Any Senju clan artifact would need Tsunade’s approval to be handed out. Without the scroll he has nothing to offer but potential political power, and even that isn’t necessarily something they’d care for.  And the second it got out who they were descended from they’d get it anyway.

No pressure tagging of: @redrobin-detective @redcap3 @shih-coulda-had-it

[miabebe]

Camp Seventeen: Chronicles

Dive into the profiles of the members of Camp Seventeen!

Name: Choi Seungcheol (Coups, Cheol) 

Descent: Son of Zeus, King of Gods, God of Sky, Thunder and Lightning

Symbol: Thunderbolt 

Role: Camp Leader - Sets rules and assigns roles in camp to everyone. Responsible for overseeing team members and ensuring discipline on camp. 

Residence: White marbled mansion, surrounded by oak trees, located on higher ground than everyone else so he can keep an eye on camp.

Companion: Eagle called Zephyr who is often seen patrolling the skies to protect camp. Seungcheol has a special whistle call to make it land on his shoulder. 

Profession: Meteorologist - He has a very good understanding of the weather and can accurately predict changes. Although he does not enjoy his job as he despises working in spaces where he does not have control aka isn't the boss. On the orders of his father he’s also pursuing a degree in astronomy.

Fun facts: Seungcheol’s anger is quite destructive - surprise, surprise, it thunders when he’s mad. His hair was black when he was born but streaks of gold started to appear whenever he used his powers and now it is fully golden blonde. Seungcheol also has an insane appetite and is also always making sure everyone eats well.

Name: Yoon Jeonghan (Han, Angel Boy) 

Descent: Son of Athena, Goddess of Wisdom, Warfare and Handicraft 

Symbol: Medusa’s head 

Role: Quest strategist - Studies warfare strategies of other camps and develops a plan of action for his team. Assigns roles in Quests to all members. 

Residence: A tree house nestled on top of an olive tree that surprisingly no one can seem to climb other than the man himself. No one on camp has seen the inside of his house though all have tried - it is believed to house the rare luxuries he collects without anyone’s knowledge.

Companion: Bratty owl called Nox that only comes out at night, god knows where it goes off to in the day. (Dino often has to go on his knees and beg it to help deliver letters) 

Profession: Lawyer - He originally wanted to be a teacher however his level of intelligence was too high for a kindergarten job. In fact, he’s so intelligent that he often has to downplay his smartness at work. The only reason he enjoys being a lawyer is because of the cunningness the profession requires. 

Fun facts: Being the son of a virgin goddess makes Jeonghan a rare demigod - there’s very few known children of Athena. He’s also the camp prankster and though he gets on everyone’s nerves with his jokes, all the members adore him. He’s incredibly scared of spiders and refuses to visit Australia for the same reason. 

Name: Hong Jisoo (Joshua, Joshie) 

Descent: Son of Aphrodite, Goddess of Love, Sex and Beauty

Symbol: White swan. 

Role: Camp manager - Responsible for all non training related operations on camp - meals, residences etc. Conflict resolving between members. 

Residence: A small cottage by the lake that was personally crafted by his mother's helpers hence it has all her favorite things in it - red roses, seashells, sea foam etc. To no one’s surprise, there are also mirrors everywhere in his house. 

Companion: Joshua once went to a bird shop to adopt a pet but came back with nearly every single dove, pigeon and sparrow because they would not stop screeching in his absence. Now they go everywhere with him - he’s a mini snow white.

Profession: Writer - Joshua writes romance novels often relying on real life experiences of his many affairs. His books are world famous under the pen name Mr.G (apparently short for gentleman) and they always have happy endings. 

Fun facts: When he’s not writing, Joshua loves to make his own accessories, especially with pearls. He also loves reading other’s writings - particularly fanfictions of his characters. He is also a very good singer, often playing the guitar during evening campfires. 

Name: Wen Junhui (Jun, Moon Junnie) 

Descent: Son of Demeter, Goddess of Agriculture, Harvest and Seasons 

Symbol: Cornucopia 

Role: Camp Farmhand - Growing and harvesting crops needed for cooking. Cooks dinner for all members. (Breakfasts and lunches are each member’s personal responsibility, though Jun insists on packing lunch for members who go to work.) 

Residence: A small farmhouse in the middle of his fields at the foot of the hills. It’s got windmills and creeks and bales of hay - very picturesque 

Companion: A two feet long rough green snake called Fluffy. Unlike its name, it's skinny and clingy and is wrapped around Jun at all times. 

Profession: Acupuncturist - works in a small clinic at the edge of the city and is quite renowned for his skill. Although looking at how most of his patients are young women with barely significant health issues, maybe he’s more renowned for his looks. 

Fun facts: He's the one that most members from other camps have a crush on - he’s always having to run away from fawning girls during quest season. He loves adventure sports and often goes off on his own to do something outdoors. Hates the city, never visits it unless he has no choice.

Name: Kwon Soonyoung (Hoshi, Tiger) 

Descent: Son of Dionysus, God of Wine, Festivity and Theatre 

Symbol: Pinecone 

Role: Camp PR - Establishing social connections with other camps. Entertaining guests who come to camp to form treaties. 

Residence: Luxurious purple and green mansion which looks a little rustic from the outside with all the grapevines and ivy but on the inside it's the very epitome of lavishness. 

Companion: Horang the leopard tiger - He had requested his father to gift him a tiger but his drunk old man sent him a leopard and Hoshi refuses to accept it. He often dresses it in a tiger outfit so it's safe to say Horang is actually quite sick of him.

Profession: Club owner - Hoshi owns a small underground club which has an even more underground secret room only for demigods. There he *cough* illegally *cough* sells his own brewed alcohol which is a big hit and makes him big money. 

Fun facts: Makes and sells alcohol but does not drink as he cannot handle it at all. During his free time, he either studies the art of wine making or takes dance workshops in the city because he’s passionate about it. The loudest possible introvert you will meet with the largest possible social circle - literally no one hates him (except Horang) 

Name: Jeon Wonwoo (Wonu, Jeon-sshi) 

Descent: Son of Hades, King of the Underworld, God of Death and Riches

Symbol: Black Ram

Role: Camp patrolling - Patrols and secures camp borders at night. Not exactly his job but somehow always ends up doing the dishes. 

Residence: He lives in a cave underground which is quite high tech and equipped, like the bat cave. He’s got all sorts of computers and screens set up everywhere for the ease of his job. 

Companion: None. Wonwoo’s father gifted him Cerberus, a 3 headed puppy but Wonwoo gave it to Mingyu after he lost his own pet in a Quest. Natalie for some reason, likes to follow around Wonwoo like moth to a light. 

Profession: No one knows really. It’s some big secret government job that he rarely goes to the headquarters for - mostly works from the comfort of his own home at whatever time is convenient for him. 

Fun facts: He’s extremely rich - his job makes him a lot of money but also his father keeps sending him a lot of gifts, mainly gemstones. Children of Hades tend to be loners and do not join camps but Seungcheol fought tooth and nail to get Wonwoo into Camp Seventeen. Wonwoo loves to bike and often takes his motorcycle, Night Fury, to the countryside for long drives. 

Name: Lee Jihoon (Woozi, Uji) 

Descent: Son of Apollo, God of Sun, Music and Healing 

Symbol: Lyre 

Role: Camp Patrolling - Patrolling and securing camp at daytime. Also responsible for the healing wounded members 

Residence: Woozi and Vernon own neighboring twin houses - Woozi’s is white and gold and is filled with his instruments and music equipment

Companion: A pure white cow which is named….Cow. It was a reward that he got in one of the Quests years ago and its milk has medicinal properties and helps him to heal members. Cow also has a little calf called Daisy which is the common camp pet - it’s fond of all the members and is very playful with everyone, especially Vernon’s hounds. 

Profession: Music producer - He’s very good with sound and can play most musical instruments. Sometimes DJs at Hoshi’s club when Hyungwon, Jeonghan’s little crush, isn’t available

Fun facts: Woozi works from his own home studio so he barely ever leaves camp. He also doesn’t attend many social events unless really necessary. Spends longer hours than most members in physical and combat training - members suspect he considers himself a little weak since he’s the shortest and tend to hype him up at every given chance. He has the most beautiful long golden locks that he loves to style in various buns and braids.

Name: Xu Minghao (Myungho, Hao) 

Descent: Son of Ares, God of War, Battle-lust and Courage

Symbol: War helmet 

Role: Camp trainer - In charge of training members of combat. Assigns weapons and maintains the ones stored in reserves.

Residence: Brick House at the edge of the training field with his personal gym and simulation combat room.

Companion: None. Minghao does not feel any emotional attachment towards any living thing. 

Profession: Tattoo artist - Minghao always liked things that were rebellious in nature and he’s a very talented artist so he decided to combine the two as his profession. 

Fun facts: He’s one of the best warriors the world has ever seen - he's trained in many camps before he decided Camp Seventeen was it for him. The camp lost two Quest seasons because Minghao had to fight for the Amazonions as a favour to his dad but now he has the eternal support of the entire tribe. Although his father is the very symbol of rage and fury, Minghao tends to be quite calm and meditates often to keep inner peace.

Name: Kim Mingyu (Gyu, Big Boy) 

Descent: Son of Hepheastus, God of Fire, Forges and Blacksmiths

Symbol: Smith's hammer 

Role: Weapons master - he makes all the weapons and equipment for the members. Handles all engineering related matters on camp as well. 

Residence: Has the only two storey house on camp - ground floor is his personal forgery and above it is his residence which the most automated, high tech place ever - seriously, he’s made a machine for everything 

Companion: He used to have a baby donkey but lost it in a quest. (last it was seen was when Hoshi took a photo sitting on it) then Wonwoo gave him his dog because he was lonely. 

Profession: Firefighter - being the son of the god of fire helps with that. Plus Mingyu is always looking to help people in need so it was a no brainer for him when the time came for him to pick a job. However now he’s considering leaving the job to become a chef

Fun facts: Mingyu is the tallest seventeen member so it's always hard to get gear for him - it's always too small or too tight. Mingyu isn’t particularly a fan of biking but knows it's one way he can spend time with Wonwoo so he built his own bike, FireBolt. Since the terrain on camp is too uneven for a bike, he built it to be able to transform into a mechanical bull at the click of a button allowing him to ride it around everywhere no camp, inducing mini earthquakes as it runs. 

Name: Lee Seokmin (Dk, Min) 

Descent: Son of Poseidon, God of Seas, Storms and Horses 

Symbol: Water waves 

Residence: He has a boat house in the middle of the lake which the members love to use as a party yacht much to his dismay. 

Companion: Pegasus, a big stallion actually meant for battle but in reality it is a scaredy cat. Often runs the opposite side of combat regardless of Seokmin’s instructions 

Role: Camp trainer - in charge of morning warm ups and drills. Helps members with general fitness and health. 

Profession: Surf instructor - he spends pretty much all his time in and around sea because that is where he feels strongest. Often helps capsized boats and trapped animals though he’s not supposed to interfere and falls in trouble because of his good nature 

Fun facts: Seokmin was deadly scared of water as a child and would not even go near it. His father personally trained him and prepared his son for demigod life. He is one of the only members who has lived in Olympus for a while in his younger days. He's incredibly sweet and considerate though most of Poseidon’s many many sons tend to be arrogant and rude

Name: Boo Seungkwan (Uri boo, Kwan) 

Descent: Son of Hera, Queen of Gods, Goddess of Marriage, Family and Women

Symbol: Diadem 

Role: Camp PR - Like Hoshi, he too establishes alliances and treaties with camps. Often the messenger to Olympus because his mother is queen - loved by all the Gods (except Zeus) 

Residence: A Greek style house that Hera had instructed him to construct right in the middle of camp because she wants him to be the center of everything. Seungkwan dislikes it and often bunks with Vernon who’s the only one who hasn’t shooed him away when he approached. 

Companion: Patricia, the peacock that his mother gifted him but it's a bit too high end and spoilt to be in a place like camp. 

Profession: Wedding planner - Seungkwan loved weddings since he was a child mostly because he always saw his mother at one when she came to bless the unions. He decided to start his own company after nitpicking about how everyone was getting them all wrong and wanting to teach the world the right ways again. 

Fun facts: If it's not already obvious, he’s a mummy’s boy. Though Hera is the very symbol of faithfulness, the growing number of her husband’s children prompted her to have children of her own, Seungkwan being the one she’s most fond of. He’s the latest addition to camp and within days of arriving, he had already boosted Seventeen’s image beyond their expectations. He runs a secret instagram page for Camp Seventeen who’s followers are mostly girls from other camps, because the pictures are mostly the members shirtless.

Name: Chwe Hansol (Vernon, Bonon) 

Descent: Son of Artemis, Goddess of the Hunt, Wilderness, and Chastity 

Symbol: Wolf  

Role: Camp patrolling - along with Woozi, he too patrols the camp at daytime. Hunts wild animals which tend to find their way into the camps.

Residence: Twin houses with Woozi, his is silver and white and has a large enclosure for his hounds. His house shines according to the cycle of the moon - brightest at full moon, almost invisible at no moon. 

Companion: Fifteen hounds that are descendants of the hounds that his mother hunts. He can’t remember fifteen names so he’s named as the numbers - One, Two, Three, so on.  

Profession: Video gamer developer - Vernon had a lot of experience as a child when he was caste as Tv show host. Though, as much as he’s used to the entertainment industry, he likes to steer clear from it hence venturing into game development 

Fun facts: Vernon is also the child of a virgin goddess and hence also a rare demigod. He’s famous for his chiseled features and is often babied by the Hunters of Artemis. Demigods aren’t allowed to meet their mortal families after initiating into camps but Vernon always sneaks out to meet his sister Sofia who he is very close to and fond of.

Name: Lee Chan (Dino, Maknae) 

Descent: Son of Hermes, Messenger of Gods, God of Trade, Luck and Travel 

Symbol: Caduceous 

Role: Camp messenger - Much like his father, Dino plays the active role of camp transport-in-charge. Any and all deliveries are his job - even when Mingyu needs a ton of iron to weld. 

Residence: A large camp tent at the entrance of camp - When he first came he claimed he wanted it to get ‘camp feels’ now he hates it but Cheol won’t let him change it. 

Companion: A tortoise named Speedy which is as slow as he is fast. Always has to run, then wait for it to catch up, then run again and wait again and so on. 

Profession: Cab driver - doesn’t particularly enjoy the job but it makes things easier for him. He says he’s saving up to go to med school one day but Woozi swears Dino said chest muscles are called pecs because they are short for spectacular so yeah, that’s probably not happening

Fun facts: He’s a kleptomaniac - he’s always stealing stuff from the members, his house is full of such artifacts. He’s also the most in touch with his demigod half siblings - the sons of Hermes are a tight bunch. Being the youngest in camp means he’s most teased but also most adored - camp messenger isn’t even a legit job, they just give him as little work as possible. 

Name: [                             ]

Descent: Daughter of Hestia, Goddess of Hearth, Home and Hospitality 

Symbol: Fire

Role: Not yet assigned 

Residence: Not yet built 

Companion: Natalie the piglet who she found stuck in the trashcan one day and decided to raise. Natalie is a fledgling meaning its a creature of Olympus and does not follow time in the mortal world

Profession: Studying her last year of Architecture

Fun facts: She's the exact opposite of everything her mother is known for - very confrontational, not hospitable and not homely at all. Most Demigods are discovered when they are 16 but she made it to 25 undetected, no one knows how. Mingyu was the one who found her because of an accident that landed her in a lawsuit - Olympus assigned Camp Seventeen to her under the suggestion of the oracle.

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[punk-in-docs]

A song of broken skin and fated lovers: part V

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 7.1k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V —

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW!! There’s some description of wounds and if you squint some dub con. Proceed daintily loves-

It seemed your dreams were the only place you could reliably escape too. The only plain you’d find any peace.

You picture the hill before your home. Every night away from home you dreamt you’d be walking up it. Feeling the dappled shade of olive trees curling above on your skin. Passing along your back in freckles. Dotted light, spots of shade interspersed.

Your soft skirt swishing around bare calves. The creak of your sandals meeting the dusty road. The one that kinks and bends and shows you that endless glimpse of searing ocean waiting just beyond. Aegean water. Sage fields. Boundless heavens.

You remember these fields. You played in them as a child. The ones that thrash with soft grasses. Ruffled by salty sea air. You can hear your sisters laughter brushing along to you like sweet blossom petals garnished on the wind. Sweet and calming. Crushed honeycomb and milk.

A sound as familiar and as comforting to you as their calls and voices that make the shape of your name.

Every night in your dreams you walk up this hill.

Every night you come home.

You can see them - your sisters - on the winding ribbon of the road ahead. Running out the front door of the house. Tullia with her dress flying behind her. Ever decorous eldest. Calling to Diana, with her hair falling in waves and telling her younger sister that ladies don’t run. Diana isn’t listening she’s too joyous. Too forthright to pay attention.

And Ceres. Sweet little Ceres sprints for your arms. Gap toothed grin. Clutching her cloth doll. Skirts held past her knees, she runs for you.

You can see mother in her dark plum linen stola. Gold jewellery on her neck and dangling from her ears. She lingers in the shade of the the hallway. Her dark wavy hair shot through with a fierce bolt of silver - lightning struck - at her temples. Radiant. As she watched from the door with a smile at their graceless display.

Her smile wide and brilliant, you always thought so, exactly as you remember it, as crows feet sit by her eyes. Emboldened and etched deep with her mirth. Hers is a face that has seen years of sun and sea spray. Made serene as placid waters by it. She is tanned and weathered elegantly by decades of watching sunshine bouncing like rows of diamonds off the sea. Salt and sea foam as hemmed in her blood as it is in yours.

You run to them - crying and wailing - feet slapping the dirt and dust, and you’re aching, legs burning, lungs aflame and you won’t stop. Calling their names til your throat is as dry as the dust below your feet.

Then the sun is too bright. It’s too far and you can’t see them. They can’t hear you. Swallowed from your grasp.

There’s just blinding light engulfing them just out of reach of your scraping fingertips. It’s like brushing grains of sand. It tumbles away before it grows into actuality. Your fingers brush empty air as your whole being lurches and mourns.

You jolt awake, body clammy and sheened in sweat. Eyes snapping open as you jerk upwards in the cover of fine smooth sheets. You feel your hair slip over your naked shoulders. Jewels and gold still around your neck. Sunshine blares harshly at your crusted eyes.

Aches and pains come swimming back to you in sharp degrees. Bruises on your neck and your hips. Fading to ugly yellow black already. Bite marks ring your collarbones and the meat of your shoulders.

Out the window you can hear a bustling city. The clamour of crowds. Hot sun baked dirt and filth. Bells peeling from temples. Servants scurrying in the courtyards below and beyond. Horses baying in the streets.

You smear sleep from your eyes, twisting over in the huge slab of a bed to see the sheets behind you are still filled.

Geta slumbers on golden pillows under the same sheets as you. On his back with bis face turned to the sun. Arm slung over his belly. The thin sheets stick to the climes and outlines of his body. His stomach. Thighs. Hips. The heavy bulge between his legs.

His expression seems almost gentle in his rest. Pillowy lips and dark lashes kissing onto his cheeks. Kohl still smeared on his eyes from yesterday. Naked same as you, save for golden decorations, jewelled rings…

A wedding ring. Matching bands. That’s the weight that comes crashing down on you so fiercely.

Acid bile claws it way up your throat when you shift your legs. Finding the edge of the bed with a breathy sigh. The stickiness between your legs and dried around your cunt doesn’t bear thinking about. You screw your eyes shut so as not to think about it.

Stirring silk. Rustles from behind you.

“Where do you think you’re going wife?” Comes a sleepy drawl across the pillows and sheets. Slithering across to you. Husky from his slumber.

You swallow and twist your head over your shoulder. Hair matted and twined close from sleep. Bite marks wedged deep in your back and neck throb as you move.

His eyes are lidded heavy but their burning gaze rests on you. Branding like a hot knife. White hot from the fire. You’re beginning to think that gaze of his always will.

“I’m not used to having my bed filled in the mornings. The kind of company I’m used to promptly leaves after the pleasuring is done.” He explains. Inflection of lust in his tone. He smirks with it. Wide and filthy.

Now he has a little plaything to trap into his bed whenever he feels like it. An ornament he can use and decorate his already gilded arm, and bring out to inspire envy in all peoples of Rome.

You pause where you sit on the bed. Caught.

“I wanted to fetch some water.” You grovel. Voice scraping raw. Throat feeling full of sharp rocks when you speak.

His eyes harden. Laychromose, but deepening with his anger. The way he slips into intimidation if he doesn’t immediately get what he wants. The way he snaps his fingers and has this world uncurl and offer itself up to his desires. That too must apply to you. Your role now was obedience in all things.

Bend and break and mould yourself for your husband, little nymph.

“You may… when your emperor is finished with you.” He plays and toys with your emotions at his whims. Eyes intently gazing at you. His words come with a bladed meaning.

“Come here-“ He orders. Voice softer but the command cuts straight to your spine. Arrowhead sharp. Studs deep.

You curl back into the bed. Back stiff. Trying not to wince at the cuts which burn and tear at your skin. You feel the pull and tug of barely closed wounds. His teeth had drawn blood. You feel the congealing wound at your back shift. The scab lifting. A bead of blood rolls over down your shoulder blade.

He notices. Shifts on his side behind you. Curls a hand to the hill of your hip. Catches that drip of blood with his lips. Savours it. Sea foam flavour of you bedded on his tongue.

The warm stinging path of his tongue on your back takes your mind back to what happened in these sheets hours previous.

How he’d pushed your thighs, widened your legs, opened the bowl of your pelvis and drunk from you. Showed you the various ways a man can please his lover with tongue, lips and hungry teeth.

He’d done it til you shivered and begged. Tried to writhe away. He meanly tugged you back where you belonged, bullied you, recaptured in the cradle of his hands, and did it again. Smirked when you asked for clemency.

“I warned you I was without mercy, Salacia.” He’d leered. His smirking lips and sharp teeth shining with you as he smeared his warm nose against your thigh. Slaked in the taste of you from chin to cheek. Makeup running under his Umbrian eyes. Panting like a beast to your skin and because of the scent he finds synonymous with you. Lemons and salt.

He hovers behind you now. Hands sliding for your waist. Chin on your shoulder. Breath tainted copper. Pressing his lips to bruises and tender spots. You were right. He had to achieve to sting of pain in order to feel something.

He dips his mouth to your neck again. Lapping and nursing a new bruise near an already painful one. Layering pain on pain.

His hand slips lower for your thigh. Warm stones in each of his fingers foreign and hard as he slips his hand between the soft of your legs again.

He’d moaned when you’d grabbed his hair or left nail marks in his large arms and shoulders. He liked that he could draw an emotion out of you. Even if it was overstimulation or desire. He’ll match and meet you in either. As he so wishes.

He’s pleased to find you tacky with the remnants of him from the previous evening. “A fine fruitful offering for your beautiful cunt my wife.” He purrs. Fingers delving deeper to your sex. Rings nearly an unwelcome sensation. “In time mayhaps the gods will bless us.”

Hallowed Saint. Hallowed fate. Bestowed by the gods, he says.

You’d say it was more akin to downfall. Curses and ill fate. Tantalus and his fruit. Medusa and her coiled snakes. Actaeons fateful stag.

He noses onto your jawbone. Fascinated by the scent of you still. Smothered all over these sheets. It grew stronger the longer he was near you. In his sleep it smothered his mind, his every second. Lemons, salt, and you-

He loses himself, mouthing to your neck and into the wild nest of your hair. He inhaled you. Drank the essence of you like a starving peasant. Hungry greedy hands.

“What is about that scent of yours that drives me wild? What is it?” He seeks. Almost angry in his demands.

“Lemon oil. For my hair.” You explain weakly as he plucks and grabs at you.

Descending into lustful madness. He catches the ripe berry of your clit with his rings and it makes you gasp. Bucking back to his chest. He likes that. When a little of your feral reaction to his touch makes you buck and lose your usually placid control. The man is taunting the seas and welcoming in a storm.

“Use it. Always.” He ordered huskily, Huffing as your hair sticks to his lips. Melding with the salt of ocean that he now understands beats through your skin and veins.

He would order ten thousand lemon trees to be bought here just for your use.So he can kiss your shoulders and your skin and always find it brimming with the bright note of that yellow fruit.

A small surrendering of your body as you arch back to him. Having pleased him brings something forth in you: something that eases. His pleasure allows you to relax the stiffness of your spine. Lower your guard.

He tugs your hair out the path of his lips. Delights in the evidence he found of his teeth all over your neck. His claim was skin deep. And he soon hoped it would be even deeper.

You are tugged back to the bed so his hands can wander all over you again. Your back curled to his chest as he lays you on your side. His hand sliding for your thigh to widen you open for him. Behind your hips you feel the hard length of him. He guides himself to you and your breath gets punched out of you as he pushes inside.

He pushes your leg open further to move to you deeper. He delights in finding evidence of your restless wedding night squelching deep inside your cunt. Throws his head back and groans with it.

He moulds his body to yours. Tacky skin. Warm cotton sheets kicked down the bed. Ringed metal and sharp jewels on every finger gripping the fat of your leg tight until he’s sure he’d left marks. Holding you open so he can plunge inside.

Your hand finds his where he crushed one breast in a grip so tight it makes tears spring to your eyes. Melding with the pleasure you cannot deny coming forth as he moves his hips to you so fiercely, your skin smacks where you meet.

Despite the sting of pain from being so overused, to way his fingers reach down to knowingly pinch and caress your clit where you’re spread open around him, makes wordless cries come out your throat. You clutch into the sheets and grit your teeth. His breath muggy hot against your neck. His hair a mess. Golden and fiery. Like stomped down wheat stalks at sunset. A lazy Bacchusian god.

“Let your husband hear you.” He encourages. Your moans and sweet as rare wine. Inbetween sucking and biting your neck. Asking for your sounds of ecstasy like he deserves them. A holy offering that praises him and washes away all sin.

“I don’t think you are goddess of the sea my love. With a cunt this sweet and tight? I think you must be a fertility goddess instead.” He proposes into your ear through harsh chuffs for breath.

“So tight. So fucking Intoxicating” he huffs. Cupping your tits and still moving to you as harshly and deep as he’s able.

He makes sure your breath cannot come as you steal his. A warm sweaty palm on your chin twists your head back to his. He anoints your lips with a messy kiss that echoes with the ghost of last nights wine and the tang of salt from between your legs. His tongue licks over your teeth. He drags every part of you up for devouring.

A commotion over by the door takes your mortified eyes over.

You see Aeliana and some of her maids coming in. When they see you both naked in the bed with Geta thrusting into you like a madman, you watch her eyes blow wide with shame. Head bowing. Arms laden with todays gown for you to wear. She halts the girls by her side.

Geta doesn’t even spare them a look. They are below his divine notice. He manages to lever his mouth off yours for a mere few seconds, to bark his orders and send them scurrying.

“Get out.” He shrieks. Voice ringing through you with the harshness of the sudden shout.

You twist your head into the sweat slicked pillow. Ashamed that they’d even just glimpsed you being used so.

His spit drying on your chin. His hand possessively cupping your cunt again as he fucked you so deeply, something tender within your pelvis had you nearly wailing.

His mouth goes to your neck again. His pace growing faster and faster. Sloppier. Noises of your sex only increasing. His hold on you is so intense it’s an ache. His fingers trailing through your curls and your folds to find that spot that will surrender you entirely to him.

He rears up behind you. Skin glued with heat to yours. He grabs you close as if you’ll fade under his fingertips like smoke. Hips hammering as he reached his pleasure. Yours came snapping down on him not long after.

That telltale tip and then the surge of ecstasy that broke through you. Cunt snapping down right around his cock as you came in shudders. Pulsing through you as his spend burst deep into you. Exactly where he wanted it. Wave after wave of pleasure. You let it take you. Little else you could do. Your strength to fight had turned stone cold.

You laid against him in cooling sheets. Listening to his chasing breath behind you. Feeling the wet and heat between your legs twofold. His sweat drips onto your back. Smeared as he laps at your neck. Fresh bruises and teeth indents are more raw than before.

You can barely notice. You’re more taken with the way your pussy squishes as he pulls free. The hot rush of his spend.

Hot breath comes over your ear again. You shudder and you’re not entirely sure it’s of pleasure. His lips kiss to your jaw and cheek. All this sweat and sex soaked skin. and still he finds lemons in your taste when he kisses you.

“Shall I have the maid fetch you water?” He seeks.

“I shall do it.” You shrink down with sex flushed cheeks. Pushing away from the bed with a wince. Hair draping down your back as you take a smooth sheet from the bed with you. Padding to the side. Hips swaying under the cotton. Your pelvis and thighs feel tender and aching - low and bone deep like sun burn - as you move to the amphora and goblets you’d used last night.

He sits on his elbows to watch you. Uncovered, cock laying soft against his thigh. His thighs and groin sticky-wet with evidence of your joining. Unabashed as to his naked state.

His eyes are hungry and you certainly give him a feast to watch. Clad in sunshine from the great maw of the window. Skin littered with violent red and purple marks in odes to his ownership of you. The smeared blood from bites at your back that he’d licked away.

You stand at the side. Laying your hands flat to the table where the jug stood. You found you didn’t reach for it right away. You looked at the very unfamiliar sight of the wedding band in your finger. The gold surrounded by the two dog heads fighting over the sapphire. A helpless jewel caught in between rabid teeth. How fitting.

Your shaking hands pour clear water into a cup and you drink it all quickly. The taste of metal and sleep fading from your tongue.

Bare feet padding the floor come behind you. The rustle of a fine robe. The red and gold one. He’s barely bothered to tie it closed around his chest.

“I must go and ready for the day. Loathe as I am to depart your blissful company.” He says. His hand slipping round the back of your neck. Bringing you in. Tasting the new wetness on your tongue as he kisses you. You muffle a moan to his lips as he possesses you in a kiss again. Squeak a little as he pulls away.

You don’t know what else there is to say.

Enjoy your gilded cage, little nymph. It’s all you’ll know from now on.

“Wear jewels and something pretty. I’ll come find you later. Wife.” He promises with a salacious smirk. Eyes you up and down like he wants to tear that sheet off and bend you over the lectus here and now. Smack the fat of your ass and claim you again.

A dark smile aimed your way. A thumb on your chin to bring you in for one more lippy kiss. And he’s off - stalking toward the doors. A lascivious look shot your way as he turns away.

You say nothing. You feel nothing. Nothing except for empty hollow rage that shakes through you. Pounds at the bony trap your ribs. Enough for you to shiver even in the warm morning air.

You feel scraped through. Brittle like fraying rope. He’s taken you from your home. Exiled your father. Forced shame upon your family. Killed your brother. Pushed his twisted lust upon you, and now expects you to react as if it’s dressed up in love.

You floated into his life like a midsummer’s night breeze. And he found you breathtaking, enchanting. Now he had you he wanted to cup you close. Seal you to his skin with his nose buried in the crown of your head whilst crowing mine mine mine.

He was in two minds of what to do with you. Cherish you, love you, pour crimson rose petals before your steps. On the other hand, he only knew violence when it came to love and to lust. He wanted to break you apart piece-by-piece like dry clay. Tear at you like those tigers in the coliseum and see what’s left.

He’s never known what to do with his things when it comes to love. Maybe he didn’t even know it at all. Only knew how to demand and take. Never to please or to give. He’s never had too.

And now he expects mightily. For you to sit pretty and wear jewels, rings, gold, and fine stolas. Support his every shrieked command. You must learn to sew your mouth shut and keep your opinions tamed back behind that same silent closure of thread.

An Empresses role was silence. How your soul quakes with that new pain.

The huge doors rattle again. The exit of the Emperor meant the maids were safe to come tend you.

Aeliana walks towards you. You raise your eyes to hers. Wet and wide. Tears on the quivering brink of your lashes.

She is unable to hide the noticeable switch of shock in her expression, when she sees the wounds you’d been saddled with. Teeth marks and bruises. Like you’re a slab of meat and not a cherished spouse.

She cannot fathom how you have more cuts for her to soothe balm on after your wedding night.

“Let’s get you to the baths, Empress.” She soothes. Opens her arm. Encouraged you to follow. She tries a bolstering smile but you both know it’s fragile. Her husky voice is the only kind thing you fear you’ll ever hear in this rotten place.

You nod. Swallow. Stand tall and let her manoeuvre you.

You can allow some tears to slip free when you’re in the water. Then you must banish your feelings. The maids must strap finery and silks onto your body again and truss you up in this farce. You steel every last splitting nerve whilst you can. Tamp them down. Gather the ragged ends up and soothe them. Clutch tight.

Naked, you wade down the steps and sink under the surface of the huge bath.

You’re tempted to not come up for air again. The water lulling you in its cradling warmth like an old familiar companion. As if a siren that you let drag you down. Plunge headlong into waves and succumb.

Unlike Odysseus, you don’t have the strength to fight its pull.

The bite on your shoulder turns the water clouded and rusty.

One salient thought gives you solace as the world around you grows numbs to your ears.

Atleast he drank deeply from the lies you’d fed.

~

Many sun and moons had set since your wedding night. Time marches its onward parade in the beautifully rotten imperial palace.

Geta and Caracalla were summoned to a Imperial Consul with the senators. To discuss the matters of their particular wish to expand the Roman empire to Persia and India. And possibly beyond that. They held Rome and all her starving subjects in a gold fisted vice. Refused to relent like a bratty child clutching a beloved toy. One that they would rather break to splinters in their grasp than see it enjoyed by someone else.

That was not the way of the gods, after all. It was their damn birthright.

They both slouch in their sloping marble carved chairs, in front of the rows of Senators, as the magistrate drones through the Verba fecit. Then they would read the protocols to address problems within the city.

Geta is not attempting to look amused or even mildly interested.

He slurps at a golden goblet of dark wine. A scowl like rolling thunder on his face. Dark eyes smouldering at any old senator who dares contest his gaze. Garbed in gold with rings on every finger. His black and gold silken robes folded in his lap, spilling to the ground.

Caracalla appears more interested in feeding grapes to Dondus. His manic grin shining. Gold tooth glittering in the half dim as he laughs. His creatures chirps and shrieks accompany the low drone of the voices rolling around the great marble room. Bounding off the pillars and echoing back.

Geta ground his jaw tight as he flickered a look to the side and caught sight of the very thing that had begun to vex him from the second he stepped into these chambers. Set far back behind him. Amongst the senators seats.

Your cushioned lectus remained vacant.

He grips his wine goblet too tight. fingers strangling the stem. His attention was brought back to the room as Senator Thraex cleared his throat. Summoning back his attention.

“… I would also like to wish you joy on your recent union. Caesar…. You have bestowed a fine and fair Empress onto Rome and her peoples…”

Geta narrows his eyes at the man. Coaxing out the rest sharply. Or else.

“Yet I cannot help but notice It has been four moons now since the Empress graced us with her presence here at counsel…. I do wonder if all is well. As Rome does deserve the full compliments of its masters here to guide us.”

Geta ground his teeth around an answer. The room throbs in the heady silence as he glares. Punctuated only by the monkeys chitters and the shuffling of Senators gazing at each other in arch amusement as to the meaning of the levied comment.

“The Empress is occupied elsewhere at present. I should hope you are not suggesting me and my brother are lacking in our duties in any way. Senator.” He replies curtly. Eyes thunder heavy and dragging over the dry old man. Umbrian danger.

“Of course not. Sire.” Thraex replied. Seeming unimpressed with the answer. “If you’ll permit me I should like to discuss the issue within the city of what is to be done of taxes within the Porta Capena quarter…”

Geta sunk into his cup again as the Senators droned on. His mood plunged below foul. Jaw tight. He turned to look at the lectus again. Venom in his blood at your absence.

When counsel finished. He stormed from his seat without another word. Robes sweeping the ground as he raced from the room. Sandals meeting the floor like slaps. Rage evident in his stride. He summons the nearest Praetoria. Who promptly comes to his side.

“Where is the Empress?” He snarls. A snake in coil about to strike. Bad enough he had to suffer the thinly veiled barbs of Senators asking why you were absent. Even worse was that you made him look a fool without even being here. They were casting foul allusions as to your marriage.

The guard hesitates before giving an answer. “She has left the Palace, Caesar.” He answers.

Geta’s anger comes sharp and packed in poison. A hiss. He asks so curtly it echoes to the ceiling. “And precisely where has she gone?”

~

At first, the noise and bustle of Rome was repugnant to you. Rancid and dirt and heat. Too much noise and not enough air.

Made putrid by stale sweat en masse bodies, horse manure, and smoke from fires mingling with roasting meat or oily charred fish from street vendors.

There was always shouting, someone selling wine, someone selling exotic wares, and bartering filling the air. Music bleeding from some side alley. Jugglers and slight of hands weaving through the crowds of servants and nobles and peasants, ready to part people from their coin.

You watch and just listen to it all from where you’re seated. A palla folded around your head and neck to block the otherwise fierce sun, also to obscure your features, give you shade wherein to hide your golden jewellery and rich dress.

Though you doubt anyone in this riotous city knows or even cares who you are. To a glance? You are just another rich merchants wife. Or noble woman. Unseen. Unremarkable. You do admire Rome for that small mercy atleast. To make you invisible in a crowd of thousands.

You’re seated at the edge of the fountain. The marble lip cold under your dress. Your hand dangling down into the clean waters. Trailing your fingertips through the cool of it. Water shimmers off the blue stones and pearls of your rings. If you squint, they are treasures cast on the shore. You can imagine you see specs of sand. Golden shells. Milky pearls waiting to be picked - tucked cosily in cream oyster shells.

You try to pretend. You fail.

Your personal praetorian guard lingers not far away. Varro. A perpetual huge shadow to you since your wedding.

Geta told you the morning after that you were to have him watch over you at all times. The man has been hulking after your every footstep since. It’s cloying, but nowhere as much as that palace is.

Varro boasts a huge figure and not one to be easily missed in a crowd. A warriors build. A scowl that could curdle milk. He’s solid. Brawny thick chest, stocky as a barrel, thighs thick as tree trunks, large arms and immense shoulders even without his plates of armour.

He had a proud chiselled face, dark hazel eyes and a prominent nose that had been broken before. Evidence of a pinking scar bumping at the bridge of it. Also a small nick dissecting his lower lip. His life had known pain. You can tell. Typical soldiers life. A body cut from the cloth of war. From polishing armour, baying for unease, and stepping to commands.

It’s hewn in the way he carries himself in crowds. Darting eyes and not feeling at ease, or any kind of sane, unless he can see all four clear corners around himself - and you. And convinced danger lurks behind every brick corner and down every side street. Huge hand permanently slung over the pommel of his sword. A warning.

He stands a little way across from you now. Looming proud as an old oak in the shade of a building and a market stall slung with rich cloth for sale. Shirking the sun and scowling at everyone. Basalt black hair falls like long thorns over, down his brow. Down the nape of his neck and collar, beaded in sweat.

Children scarper around him. Street urchins that clamour like flies on rot at his appearance. He gives no inch and tells them to move along with a curt nod. Steel stiff spine standing to attention. A merchant tries to sell him a cup of wine - red or white - they are silenced by his frown. He won’t touch a drop whilst on duty. Truth be told, You don’t think he knows how to be off duty. He’s not capable.

He’s an austere reminder of your station. Almost literally, in his dark black plate armour and wisteria purple cape swinging from his wide shoulders. A storm cloud eternally perched on the horizon of your day. His words come few and far between. You don’t think you’ve heard him string two full sentences together once. Except possibly in daggered warning;

You draw too much attention. Empress. It is bound to invite trouble.

You wanted to scoff at that irony.

You? In your hooded palla, draw attention?

When it is he, the man who guards you - like a grizzled dog - who is a thick immovable column of uniform widely recognised as imperial praetoria, wherever you turn in these streets? Unfathomable.

I am going to temple to pray. You may either escort me. Or explain to my husband why I have gone into the capital, alone.

His answer was a gruff glare. Acceptance and frustration entwined.

You have caused him to furrow his dark brows at you several times with a “Yes, Empress.” That came dragged through a displeased drone. A hound showing you his teeth before the jaws snap. Having to escort you into the city each day was laying contrary to his regulations to not have you in harms way.

You insisted. He obeyed. With little choice in the matter.

Every day you came here. One corner of the beating, shouting heart of Rome. You went to the Temple of Vesta and you prayed. And you went to a public fountain and let real life ebb in upon you once again. To find some peace away from the rabid emperors, who blaze at the palace with all the ferocity of fiery twin suns. They encompass all. Left little room for anything else. All life revolved around them. You float off in distant orbit.

You wave your fingers through the cool water. Tethered to one small piece of home again. Cool tides that brought you comfort. Reminded you of the sun soaked shores of home. Sunlight fracturing in diamonds off clear blue waters.

Feeling the sun beat down now on your neck through layers of cloth. You cast your eyes over the monuments to Neptune sat in this ornamental fountain. Sea gods and goddesses and creatures of sea foam. The other side where you are, women are washing clothes, or chatting over baskets fetched from market. You can smell perfumed oils, dried flower petals, and the sweet plump of ripe fruits tucked safe in the shade of their baskets.

How wild it is that until four weeks ago, that too had been your life. You didn’t sleep on silken sheets, get trussed in gold, and have servants poised so you never had to even lift a finger.

You knew comforts - of course. You had fine clothes and didn’t have to toil the fields. But you weren’t beyond spinning cloth or running errands. Helping clean and tidy your home. Fetching food or helping prepare meals. Coming home from market in the small town with oiled fish, scorpion fish, or boar, fresh chestnuts or olives. Dried meats sometimes too.

You thought of the olive trees lining the road to town. Huge and ancient. Offering branches that white doves often sat in - cooing away their calls. You thought of buying chestnuts for Ceres because she adored them so. Goats cheese for your mother that she liked with honey. Bunches and bunches of aniseed to make into Canistrelli biscuits for father.

The happy creak of your basket on your arm. Feeling the sun tangle in your hair as you shaded your eyes, felt the sea kissed breeze caress along your arms and back as if an embrace of a lover.

All those things you’d lost in one fell swoop. A life that had been snatched from you without your even getting a chance to bid it goodbye. Just like your brother. Your father.

And here you were now. Hiding away in the crowds. So lonely you felt its sting like the deepest shrapnel. A wound never closing. Always being prodded some more by the dire aspects of your circumstances. Anything to not be trapped in your gilded cage. Being reminded daily that your one use in that foul place, lay solely between your legs.

Two small girls come stumbling to an ungraceful stop, laughing, breathless and slowing from a run. They come right to your side to fill some amphorae with water. Dunking the clay jug into the clear water and letting it fill.

They each have dark hair and dark eyes. One must be close to Ceres’ age of six, toddling, milk teeth smile, youthful weight clinging to her cheeks, the other slightly older. Longer hair and a fuller smile. They have flowers pinched from a stall stuffed in their rusty coloured linen apron pockets. Some bay laurels and cornflowers.

You smile warmly at them. They smile back, unabashed. Joy seeping out of them. That brand of innocent fearlessness that grasps the young.

Turning your head you hear the clank of armour, feet shifting fast on dirt. Varro steps towards you with his scowl and his hand already on his sword.

You reprimand him silently. Gaze packed in ice. Jaw set. Mouth flicking to a grim line. You calmly hold up your hand and motion for him to step back. He’d scare the poor things.

You feel a gentle tug on your dress where it splays at your shoulders. Turning back, you see the younger one has her small hand on your dress.

You gently return your hand to your side. Seeing what she wanted your attention for. They both looked at Varro with much wide eyed curiosity. Only very rich ladies could afford a soldier. Only those of very high status. You fear he’s just betrayed your standing.

“Pardon me…” She utters. Her unsure voice carefully picking over the words. As if she was still learning larger words and their uses.

“Yes?” You smile. Touched by her boldness. Treating her with gentility.

“Are you the Empress?” She seeks. Forming words slowly. A curious tilt of her head.

You see no reason to lie.

You can feel Varros eyes burning a glare into your back. Harsher. More furious than the sun. Don’t.

“I am.” You respond.

They smile as if excited. Sharing a look. Both each producing a small laurel sprig from their stuffed pockets. They each step forwards and present the small branches out to you. A gift. You lay your hand flat and accept them both. Curling your fingers around branch stems.

“Gods blessings be upon you, Empress.” They speak in clunky unison.

You take the branches with reverence. Feeling the smooth leaves. The verdant and subtle scent coming from them.

“Pray tell me. What are your names?” You enquire.

The eldest speaks first. “Amata, Empress.”

The youngest follows suit. “Junia, Empress.” She tells you proudly.

You reach for your purse. Stowed safely within your dress folds away from the hands of beggars. You pluck out two coins and place them in their small hands. Junias hand reminds you if a small pudgy starfish. Curling round a silver shell.

“Blessings be upon you both. Amata. Junia. For your kindness…” You beam to them both.

They shimmer with mirth. Taking their jugs and scampering away through the crowds like nymphs.

Varro appears at your shoulder like an omen. “Empress.” He says your name lowly. Chiding you with his tone alone for revealing yourself to them.

“Surely two little girls holding flowers in their pockets, pose no danger to me.” You reply archly. Watching across the crowds where they’d disappeared.

“I only seek to resupply you of my one duty.”

“I don’t need reminding.” You tell him. Not unkindly. But he can hear the way you might be tempted to let the words be sharpened to little blades off your back teeth.

He’ll say this for you; you don’t have sharp teeth or poisonous tongue like every other noble in that palace. You are made different to their spoilt ways. Something sleeker and softer. All foam whipped off waves. You can sting and lash if required - you simply choose not too.

You hear bells toll for midday from the temple beyond. Clanging off the golden stone of every building around you. You fancy you can see the ripple of the sound sending waves to burst across the fountains surface.

Varro is giving you that stern look that urges you to be heading back. Before you’re started to be noticed. Before you become a perfidious gap in your Emperors day, when he isn’t vying for blood, gold or war. That or applying himself ruthlessly to the detriment of this great city, crushing his own people in the same way his favourite wine is made. Squeezing every drop til dry.

You hate to return. But you fear what wrath will come if you don’t. The thought of slipping away into these crowds and dipping into another form of life mocks you. Cowardice curbs your actions.

With some of the meagre coin in your pocket, you could try and make for the coast, possibly. You could disguise yourself as a merchants wife, or a servant. Anything to slip the golden net you’ve been landed in.

You wonder how far you’d make it, running away like a common ruffian, before the stomping hooves of a Roman battalion would be on your heels. Snatching you back here to be humiliated at Geta’s own insistence. The punishment he’d dole on you doesn’t bear thinking about. You were property after all.

You watch men and women weave in and out of the crowds, wishing you had half their luck as to put your back to this palace and peel away. Your mind wanders over that idea. A faint ember that dies to a curling puff of smoke. Snuffed out.

It doesn’t bear thinking about-

You take your offered laurel branches and stand. Varro takes up his guard. Eyes flicking all around. Searching for those corners he requires. For that split second of danger he can cleave his sword onto treasonous limbs for your protection.

You make your way back through crowds. Varro cutting a swathe for you. You keep your head down and remain quiet. Mind vacant as you move through the paved streets.

A flash of a body pushing past you takes your attention down a side alley. One arched with fabric awnings thrown over merchants stalls.

The flash of white turned out to be a senators robe. The vivid plum purple bordering white. You bat away the bitter thought of once recognising it as your fathers noble robes.

You catch sight of three people, stood on a street corner. One of them you don’t recognise but you know him to be a Senator. The two people he’s stood conversing with does make you stop in your tracks.

General Acacious and Lady Lucilla.

They are conversing deeply. Attention not given to you where you stand on the other side of the street. Shade cloaks them all. A moment out the sun. A place they hope guards them in obscurity. Talking with each other in hushed tones. Marcus and Lucilla wear hoods so as to hide their fine features from any obvious recognition.

The crowd trickles on around you. Water carving on around a large rock in the way.

Lady Lucilla raises her eyes. They flash to you in an instant. Dazzling green. A sun dappled meadow holding you in sight.

Her face falls as she halts her words. Lips parting. The General and the Senator both turn to follow her gaze. Finding you, caught static, at the other end of it. You recognise a prickle of panic when you see it.

You turn your head. Eyes snapping away as you hold your skirts and continue on.

Your guard says nothing. Though you know he saw what you just did. It’s not his place. He forgets all he sees or hears - all that doesn’t pose risk to you.

Maybe you weren’t the only person in Rome to wish the Palace walls didn’t have treasonous eyes and ears. You can’t help but wonder if perhaps Varro was right;

There is danger round these street corners in Rome.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

@ceriseheaven @lurkingprincess @ramona-thorns @joequinnswhore @iliveforotps @eddiesskittle @roosterisdaddy36 @rose-tinted @lluviamg06 @ravensfromvalhalla @fujiihime @youaremyfamiliar @captain-tch @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @svenyves @sammararaven @feralgoblinbabe @groupie-love-71 @andromeda-andromeda @gvtosbith @munsonswhoresposts2 @shenevertricks1831 @hazzaismyreligion @anaisweird @cinnamoncunt @red-lipstick-bisexual @wheels-of-despair @tvserie-s-world @callmeloverr @ho-for-joequinn-fics @bettyfrommars @rip-quizilla @songforeddiemunson @usedtobecooler @peachesandfiends @littlelioncub43 @heyndrix @babybluebex @blueywrites @joejoequinnquinn @cool-nick-miller @sheneedsrocknroll92 @rehfan @pedgito @dracomaledicte @gamingaquarius @mypoisonedvine @sharp-and-swift @chaptersleftunwritten

[catbread0]

Apollo x Mortal! Reader

This was not a request. I made this out of motivation again. Hope you enjoy it, and I'm sorry for any mistakes! (BTW, ik, this is OOC, I don't think Apollo would cheat on his lovers! I just felt like writing angst!)

(*´∇｀)ﾉ

Words: 1,440

Fluff, angst, cheating, mention of s*x, no happy ending

Blood of Zeus Masterlist

No Undoing

You lived in the forest, away from the village. You would only go to the village to get some food, furniture, and a bit more stuff. But you would return to your cottage, it was a decent house.

One day, you were wandering around in a nearby field. It was a nice day, and the rays of sunlight shone through the leaves and onto you. Suddenly, you heard a tree twig break. You immediately turned to where you heard it, and there stood a God, Apollo.

You had caught Apollo’s attention with your gorgeous appearance. He had been observing you for a while and decided to court you properly.

After some time, Apollo asked you to be his lover, and you said yes. A God being in a relationship with a mere mortal, wasn’t the first nor the last.

He took you to Mount Olympus so you could stay with him. He introduced you to his twin sister and his other siblings and showed you around Olympus.

It’s been months since you two have been in a relationship. However, one day, you both had an argument. You don’t remember the details or what you two even fought about. But you decided to leave Mount Olympus after that. You had gotten onto a pegasus and flew to your cottage in the forest. 

You wanted time away from Apollo so you both could calm down. You put the pegasus in a stable you thankfully had.

It’s been a week and a few days since you last spoke or saw Apollo. You decided to return to Mount Olympus to apologize for your rash decision and for arguing with him. You decided to wait until night, in case Apollo saw you in the daylight because of his duties. Once it was midnight, you went into the village to get some of Apollo's favorites like sunflower seeds, honey, and a few incense you thought he may like.

You put all the items in a basket, got the pegasus out of the stable, and flew to Olympus. When you finally reached Mount Olympus and put the pegasus somewhere safe, strong thunders of light could be heard. From what you can tell, Zeus was angered and aiming towards the sea.

But that didn't matter to you. You just wanted to see Apollo. You ran eagerly to finally see Apollo again. You entered his chamber, and what you saw shocked you to your core. 

“My sunlight, I wanted to apologize-”, There before you was Apollo laying with a man and a woman.

Apollo and the two strangers were awakened by the roarings of lightnings. Just as they awakened, you opened the door.

The colors on Apollo's face drained from him the moment he heard your voice and saw you. He saw the look in your eyes, going from cheerful to betrayal.

“Love-” He tried to call out for you, but you immediately slammed the door.

Apollo had quickly gotten up, put on some clothes, and ran out to find you. Once he opened the door, it looked like you were already gone, but he saw a glimpse of you running in the far distance.

Apollo immediately ran to where he saw you. Due to him being a God, he had faster speed, and he was able to catch up to you. He immediately grabbed you by your wrist, the one that doesn’t have the basket.

“Darling, please let me explain-” he had a hint of sadness and panic in his voice. Something most mortals and gods have never seen.

“Explain what!? That you decided to have sex behind my back!? That you didn’t mean to have sex with them!? What is there to say that will save you from what I've witnessed? Would you have even told me about this if I hadn’t!?” You shouted, anger fueling your body.

Apollo stood there silent. He knew you were correct. There was no doubt that there was nothing to explain why he had done what he did. But he didn’t want to let go of you and your relationship.

You watched as he stood there. You looked back to see the pegasus just a few feet away. You didn’t want to be anywhere near Apollo, not after what you saw.

You took this opportunity to grip the basket from the handle as hard as you could and hit Apollo in the face with it. Apollo’s hand let go of your wrist from the sudden impact. You took that chance to run to the pegasus and fly away from Mount Olympus.

The impact from the basket had made Apollo fall to the ground. He watched as you flew away on the pegasus. He wanted to continue to follow you, but he knew that would cause you more pain. He looked down and saw the basket he was hit with and all the items you had put in it. The sunflower seed and incense scattered, and the honey jar was broken on the floor.

Apollo felt guilt continuing to consume him.

He was supposed to protect you, but instead, he was the one to cause you the greatest pain. 

As you flew, you decided to go into a cave in the mountains. You didn’t want to go to your cottage, in case Apollo went there to find you. The pegasus lays in the cave with you as you wept.

Right then and there, you decided to make a vow, “I vow to punish anyone who cheats on their significant other. Man or woman, both shall receive a punishment that fits their act of causing a person they love pain.”

What you didn’t know was that a certain Goddess had heard you. That Goddess was the Queen of the Gods, Hera. She listened to your vow, saw your tears, and was moved by it. With that, she decided to appear before you.

Hera comforted you. She knows the pain of being betrayed. She decided to make you a God/Goddess. “You shall now be the God/Goddess of punishing those who have committed adultery. If the person happens to be a God, then you may punish them and seek me if they try to harm you. I will ask my worshippers to build you some temples, but I have faith that your influence will spread around Greece greatly. You will have a home in Mount Olympus.” She said with confidence but also kindness.

Soon Hera would disappear. 

After a few days, you flew out of the cave with the pegasus. You went to where most people worshipped Hera. There, you saw a newly built temple. Once you landed, you saw many coming to you with offerings and praises. Hera was true to her words.

Soon, you did as you vowed, punishing those who committed adultery and even giving the poor victim a bit of success or luck. Because you gave victims success and punished those who were in the wrong, many people went to different parts of Greece and built temples for you. More people started worshipping you and wrote some of your stories of the punishments you’ve done, both on mortals and Gods.

However, none of your worshippers knew why you became the God/Goddess of punishing affairs.

Because of you being such an important God/Goddess, you lived on Mount Olympus, just like Hera said. You and Hera actually have a good relationship. You were her favorite and treated you better than her sons.

However, since you now live on Mount Olympus, you have to see someone whom you have full hatred for, on mostly a daily basis, Apollo.

Every time Apollo saw you, he would try to wave at you or interact with you in some way. However, every time, you ignored him or glared at him. For any communication he has to do with you, Hermes has to be the one to send your reply. Every time he would fight in the arena, he would look for you in the stands, hoping that you would come, but every time, he was left disappointed. 

All he could do was continue failing, looking at the incense he picked up from the floor of that night, and ask his worshippers to build statues of you in his temples. It’s the only thing he could have that reminded him of what he lost because of his actions. He regrets it deeply. He even started ignoring Hyacinths and Daphne. 

He knows it’s rude and cowardly to ignore them, but he can’t bear to remember that night.

He was no greater than his father. 

A God having an affair, wasn’t the first nor the last.

~Lilly's

[tangibletechnomancy]

Doing It Wrong On Purpose: Episode 1 - The Un-Ship

Today's experiment: What happens if I prompt for something, and then negative prompt all the main keywords, plus various synonyms and related words?

The answer: Some gloriously weird stuff.

For example, let's look at a negative cat:

Positive prompt: A cat on a windowsill during a storm

Negative prompt: Cat, feline, felidae, kitty, kitten, animal, pet, windowsill, window, glass, pane, house, storm, rain, water, lightning, thunder, clouds, torrent, downpour, snow, blizzard, wind, windy

Interesting! Let's get a little more fantasy with it and try for an anti-deer:

Positive prompt: A deer in a peaceful flowery meadow, crystals, midnight, fantasy, colorful

Negative prompt: Deer, cervidae, animal, elk, moose, stag, doe, fawn, reindeer, antelope, cervid, antlers, flowers, night, dark, trees, foliage, bloom, stars, night, tranquil, fantastic, vibrant, cool, magic, blue, moon, sky, crystal, stone, statue, topiary, floral, blossom

Between these two experiments, including a few dozen other generations that remain unposted, one thing I can say for sure is that for living subjects, it's a great way to get the kind of anatomical wonk that older models are (in)famous for - and it makes sense why, the model is trying to make something that looks like a certain subject...but once it starts to look too much like it, well, shit, we told it NOT to do that! Break something up! Given that I love that kind of wonk, I think I've found a useful tool for myself.

One more living subject, and let's get even more abstract with our direction here:

Positive prompt: mind horse

Negative prompt: horse, equine, colt, filly, mare, stallion, bronco, pony, mind, brain, thought, essence, psyche, intelligence, consciousness, imagination, dream, soul, visualization, intellect, wit, cognizance

Now let's try something that isn't alive. One thing I love AI for is surreal settings and landscapes - lets try one now!

Positive prompt: A magic palace garden made of crystal and gold

Negative prompt: Palace, magic, crystal, gold, fantasy, castle, estate, stronghold, temple, garden, flowers, plants, blossoms, bloom, blooms, trees, grass, stems, foliage, leaves, greenery, branches, bush, bushes, hedge, hedges, metal, luxury, stone, glass, brass, rose, polished, jewel, prism, courtyard

I then tried to see if, learning from the animal subjects, I could make it more likely to return one of my favorite "mistakes" - making it impossible to discern the point where a water area ends and a sky area begins. I wasn't immediately successful, but I came up with some results I found pleasing regardless-

Positive prompt: Secret hideout in a cave behind a waterfall in the foggy forest on a floating sky island in fluffy clouds

Negative prompt: hideout, camp, campsite, home, abode, house, dwelling, rest, shelter, waterfall, water, cave, grotto, forest, woods, woodland, trees, fountain, cascade, pond, stream, lake, river, brook, puddle, creek, pool, beach, ocean, sea, cloud, clouds, sky, cumulus, cirrus, nimbus, fog, storm, rain, sunshower, falls

It seems that with landscapes it's got a much clearer and more specific "idea" of what a [SUBJECT] without [SUBJECT] looks like; it's more inclined to invent very specific, very consistent unasked for related elements. With the animals, I was tweaking the weight on the positive prompt to avoid getting straightforwardly just what I had positive (and negative) prompted, but with landscapes, I just get... almost something else entirely.

So how about inanimate objects? Let's try a ship, perhaps?

Positive prompt: A huge sailing ship with brilliant prismatic crystal sails on a stormy, turbulent sea of sunset clouds

Negative prompt: ship, boat, sailboat, sailing ship, pirate ship, galleon, ketch, schooner, sloop, cutter, sail, sea, ocean, storm, wind, rain, water, waves, cloudy, clouds, fog, sunset, dusk, dawn, sunrise, twilight, evening

...okay, I'm in love with the un-ship. It truly does manage to consistently give me results that look like, yet entirely unlike, a ship. It is everything I love about AI as a medium. More than that, it is my friend.

At lower positive prompt weights, they only get even more beautifully chaotic.

I want to live on one of these (in an alternate universe where they're geometrically possible and structurally sound, that is).

Failing that, I will be featuring them a lot from now on.

All images generated using Simple Stable, under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?

[cupofteatoyou2]

I Loved You Beyond the Law of Gods pt1

Long before mortals built their cities, long before they named the stars or carved prayers into stone, the gods ruled from above.

Mount Olympus was not a mountain, not truly — it was a kingdom beyond human reach, built from marble and sky, humming with old magic.

The halls stretched wider than oceans. The pillars soared so high that clouds pooled at their feet. The walls themselves whispered in ancient tongues.

Here, time folded in on itself.

A day could be a lifetime. A century could pass like the blink of an eye.

At the heart of it all sat Zeus — king of thunder, wielder of storms — and beside him, Hera, eternal and cold-eyed.

Around them gathered the immortals: gods of the seas, the forests, the sun, the moon, the winds.

Each carried their own power, their own pride. Each carried their own loneliness.

Among them was Alexia. Daughter of Zeus.

Goddess of loyalty, of valor, of unswerving devotion.

Born not from love, but from ambition — crafted in the fires of war, shaped by her father��s will.

Alexia had always been different.

Where others sought worship, she sought purpose.

Where others reveled in the adoration of mortals, she turned away, hollowed out by how fleeting it all felt.

They sang her praises — the humans below — carving her likeness into stone, building temples in her name.

But Alexia never answered their prayers.

What use was their devotion, when it would turn to dust in a breath?

What use was love, when it always ended the same way — a grave, a ruin, a forgotten name?

So she stayed above it all. Unreachable. Untouchable.

Wrapped in silence heavier than any armor she had ever worn.

Yet sometimes, late at night, when Olympus slept and the air grew thin with frost, Alexia would wander the highest balconies and look down at the world.

The mortal realm shimmered below — oceans catching the moonlight, forests stirring with unseen life, tiny villages clinging to the earth like fireflies.

So brief. So fragile. And yet… somehow beautiful.

She envied them, in a way she would never say aloud.

Their smallness. Their freedom to fall and love and break and try again.

The gods could not fall. They could not change.

Alexia was made of lightning and stone. And stone does not weep. Lightning does not dream.

Or so she had been told.

The night everything changed was a quiet one.

A night like any other.

Alexia stood high above the world, the wind tugging at her hair like a restless ghost, when she heard it — faint, so faint she thought she imagined it.

A prayer.

Not loud, not desperate.

Soft. Cracked around the edges.

A prayer not for wealth, not for victory, not even for mercy — but for something smaller.

Something rarer.

"Please," the voice whispered. "Let someone love me. Let me be seen."

Alexia frowned, stepping closer to the edge, listening.

There, kneeling alone under a crooked tree, hands clasped in trembling hope — was girl.

A mortal. Fragile. Ordinary. And yet… not.

There was something about you.

The way you bowed your head, proud even in your pleading.

The way the wind caught in your hair like it, too, was trying to hold onto you.

You looked small against the vastness of the world.

But your soul burned so bright that even from Olympus, Alexia could feel the heat.

It should have been nothing. One mortal among millions.

But Alexia stayed.

She leaned on the marble railing, breath caught in her throat, and stayed.

Hours passed like minutes. The stars spun in slow, heavy circles overhead. And still, she watched you. At first, it was only curiosity.

She told herself that.

Every night she returned, cloaked in shadows, hidden by mists, to see if you would pray again.

You didn’t. You simply lived.

You wandered through markets, bartering for bread and honey.

You sang to yourself when you thought no one could hear.

You nursed a broken-winged bird back to health, hands gentle, voice softer than any hymn.

You lived with a kind of stubborn hope that Alexia could not understand.

Or maybe she could — and that was what frightened her.

Days blurred into weeks. The more she watched, the more the hunger grew.

Not just to see you.

To know you. To touch you.

The first time you met was an accident — at least, for you.

For Alexia, it had been inevitable.

She crafted a body for herself, human enough to walk among mortals, golden enough to catch your eye.

She wove a simple tunic around herself, tied her hair back, left her weapons behind.

You found each other by the riverbank, where the wildflowers grew in tangled knots.

You were struggling to lift a fallen branch, face scrunched in concentration.

Alexia stepped forward without thinking, grabbing the heavy end easily and tossing it aside.

You startled, spinning to face her, cheeks flushed, hair mussed.

"Thanks," you said, laughing breathlessly. "You’re strong."

Alexia smiled — and it felt strange, unfamiliar, real.

"You're welcome," she said, her voice rough from disuse.

You offered your name like it was a secret.

Alexia gave one back, simple and false, but it still felt like binding herself to you.

You didn't question her strangeness — her too-bright eyes, the faint hum of power beneath her skin.

You simply smiled, warm and wide, and invited her to walk with you.

And just like that, Alexia was undone.

She returned every day after that.

Sometimes she brought you wildflowers.

Sometimes just stories, crafted from bits and pieces of half-truths — tales of distant lands, of battles fought in dreams.

You never asked too many questions.

You only laughed and listened and leaned closer until the space between you felt too thin, too dangerous.

Alexia learned the shape of your laughter.

The slope of your neck when you tilted your head to listen. The way you chewed your bottom lip when you were thinking hard. And she realized, slowly, painfully, that she could not stay away. That she did not want to.

On Olympus, whispers thickened like storm clouds. The gods knew something was wrong.

Zeus could feel the tug of his daughter's heart slipping from his grip. He could see the frayed edges of the future, unraveling.

But Alexia didn’t care.

She stopped looking up at the skies.

She stopped listening for her father's thunder.

The only voice she heard was yours.

One evening, as the sun bled gold across the horizon, you and Alexia lay side by side on the grass, watching the stars blink into being.

You reached out, brushing your fingers against hers — tentative, testing.

Alexia caught your hand and held it tightly.

You turned your head to look at her, eyes wide and uncertain.

"Will you stay?" you asked, so quietly that she barely heard.

Alexia's heart broke and mended in the same breath.

"Always," she whispered.

A lie.

Or a promise she would die trying to keep.

The days passed like water slipping through your fingers — slow and endless and impossible to hold on to.

You lived simply, as all mortals did. You woke with the sun. You bought bread and fruit at the market, your fingers brushing dusty coins into old calloused hands.

You washed your clothes in the river, laughing when the current tried to steal them. You picked flowers without names and braided them into crowns that wilted before sunset.

Your life was small. Your life was perfect.

And you did not know it yet, but your life was a gift — a thing precious enough that even a god would want to steal it for herself.

Alexia watched you with a kind of stunned awe, every day learning a new way to love you.

The way you hummed when you were happy — tuneless and quiet, like a song you were making up just for yourself.

The way you cursed when you stubbed your toe, stringing together words that would have made even Dionysus laugh.

The way you talked to the stars at night as if they were old friends.

She memorized all of it. Every laugh. Every sigh. Every careless touch of your hand against her arm.

To you, she was a stranger with wild hair and bright eyes, a traveler who spoke of distant lands she could never quite name.

To her, you were everything.

The center of the universe she had only just realized was empty without you.

One evening, as the sun was bleeding itself out over the hills, you found yourselves sitting beneath the crooked tree again.

The wind smelled like salt and crushed rosemary.

Your feet were bare, toes digging into the dry, cracked earth.

You leaned back against the rough bark and closed your eyes, the last light of the day turning your face to gold.

Alexia sat beside you, close enough that her shoulder brushed yours.

She hadn't meant to sit so near. She hadn't meant for her heart to beat so loudly in her chest. But you made her forget herself.

Made her forget rules, oaths, destinies written before either of you had ever drawn breath.

"Tell me a story," you said, voice soft, eyes still closed.

Alexia hesitated.

What story could she tell you that wouldn't be a lie?

What truth could she speak that wouldn't shatter this fragile, impossible thing growing between you?

Still, she tried.

"There was once a girl," Alexia said, voice low. "A girl who lived her life with her feet on the ground and her heart in the stars."

You smiled, not opening your eyes.

"And there was another girl," Alexia continued, feeling the weight of the words in her mouth, "who watched her from afar. Too scared to touch her. Too scared to ruin her."

You opened your eyes then, turning your head to look at her.

And for a moment — a heartbeat, a breath, a blink — the world tilted.

"Sounds lonely," you said, studying her face.

"It is," Alexia whispered.

And then, without meaning to, without planning or permission, she kissed you.

Your lips were soft and warm and a little surprised. You gasped against her mouth, and Alexia nearly pulled away — until your fingers curled into the fabric of her tunic, holding her there.

The kiss was messy, a little clumsy, tasting of salt and breath and everything Alexia had been starving for.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both laughing — breathless, giddy, terrified.

You leaned your forehead against hers, eyes closed.

"I think," you said quietly, "your girl should be brave."

Alexia smiled, a real, aching thing.

"Maybe she will be," she said.

Maybe she would be. Maybe it wouldn't matter. Maybe you were already doomed.

After that night, there was no going back.

You loved her recklessly, the way mortals do — as if there would always be more time, more mornings, more kisses pressed into sleepy skin.

And Alexia loved you with a desperation she didn't know how to hide.

She spent every night in your bed, the two of you tangled together under the thin quilt you patched yourself.

Your small home smelled of lavender and sweat and something softer — something like safety.

Alexia traced constellations across your bare shoulders with her fingertips, mouthing the names in a language you would never learn.

She listened to you dream, your words half-formed and sweet, and wondered how any god could look at you and not fall to their knees.

She should have left. She should have run. She should have protected you the only way she knew how — by disappearing.

But Alexia had never been very good at denying herself the things she wanted most.

And she wanted you.

Sometimes, she almost told you.

When you pressed your ear to her chest and whispered, "Tell me a secret," she almost said

I am not what you think I am.

When you asked her why her hands were always so warm, she almost said

Because I was born from fire and storm.

When you laughed and said you wanted to grow old together, she almost said

I can't. You will, but I won't. I will watch you slip away from me, and there will be nothing I can do.

But she didn't.

Because how could she shatter your world with the truth?

How could she rob you of your beautiful, stupid hope?

Better to pretend. Better to hold you while she still could.

And still, the gods watched. Still, the world turned. Still, destiny sharpened its blade.

One night, you both sat on the stone wall outside your home, legs swinging in the cool air.

The moon hung heavy and low, staining everything silver.

You leaned your head against her shoulder.

"Do you believe in forever?" you asked sleepily.

Alexia closed her eyes.

"I want to," she said. You smiled, content.

She lied.

Because forever was a cruelty. Because forever was a cage for people like you. Because forever was something gods took — not something they gave.

And Alexia would have given you anything. Anything but the truth.

Far above, in halls of marble and gold, Zeus seethed.

His daughter, once fierce and proud, was soft now. Broken open by a mortal's smile. Tamed by love.

He summoned her in dreams, dragging her from your arms and into his court with cruel magic.

Alexia stood before him barefoot and furious, still wearing your kiss on her mouth.

"You shame yourself," Zeus said, his voice booming across the stars.

"I love her," Alexia said simply.

Zeus sneered.

"And love," he said, "is a mortal weakness." He let her go.

For now.

But his patience had limits. And Alexia had already crossed them.

That night, you curled into her side, warm and trusting, whispering nonsense into her skin until you fell asleep.

Alexia lay awake long after your breathing slowed, tracing the lines of your hand with her fingertips.

She wished she could stop time.

She wished she could rip the stars from the sky and blind the gods with them.

She wished, for the first time in her immortal life, to be powerless if it meant staying here with you.

But the world was already slipping out of her hands.

She could feel it.

In the way the wind carried no scent.

In the way the moon hid behind heavy clouds.

In the way her father's voice echoed faintly in the back of her mind — a storm gathering on the horizon.

Alexia kissed your temple, closing her eyes against the rising tide of dread.

"Stay with me," you mumbled in your sleep.

She pulled you closer.

"I will," she whispered.

Even if it destroyed her. Even if it destroyed you.

The night he finally came for you, Alexia knew.

She knew before her eyes even opened.

She jolted awake, heart slamming against her ribs hard enough to hurt.

Her throat was raw, torn from screaming your name in dreams she couldn’t remember but could still feel — clawing, desperate, full of loss.

For a moment, everything was still.

The dark pressed close around her.

And then she turned — and saw you. Lying there. Breathing softly. Alive.

You looked so peaceful it broke her heart.

Curled under the heavy blankets, one hand loosely tangled in the sheets, your face turned toward her, mouth slightly parted.

So soft. So trusting. So heartbreakingly human.

Alexia’s chest tightened painfully.

She reached out with trembling fingers and brushed your hair from your forehead, letting her hand linger.

Your skin was warm under her palm.

Alive. Here. With her. And yet —

Somewhere deep inside her, she could already feel the world tilting wrong.

The balance shifting.

The thin, invisible thread of your life quivering, close to snapping.

She kissed your forehead, lingering too long, breathing you in like it might keep you tethered here.

She closed her eyes and pressed silent prayers into your skin.

Prayers to gods she no longer believed in.

Prayers to anything, anyone, that might hear her.

"Please," she thought.

"Please don't take her. Please. I’ll do anything." But even as she prayed, she knew it was too late.

Some fates could not be unwritten.

Some crimes could not be forgiven.

And loving you — a mortal — had been her greatest sin.

The night felt wrong. Too still. Too heavy.

Even the trees outside seemed to hold their breath.

Even the stars above seemed afraid.

Alexia tightened her arms around you, pressing your body closer to hers, as if she could shield you with her own. As if she could hold you here by sheer force of will.

You sighed in your sleep, nestling against her, trusting her to keep you safe. Trusting her, not knowing that she had already failed you.

A sob clawed its way up Alexia’s throat.

She buried her face against your hair, shaking with it.

This wasn’t fair.

You didn’t even know what you were losing.

You didn’t know your time was ending.

You didn’t know you were being stolen from the world, stolen from her.

"Please," she thought again, frantic now, "Please give me more time. Just one more day. Just one more hour. Just let her wake up." But the silence answered her.

The fire shuddered in the hearth, casting long, trembling shadows against the walls.

The room was too cold, too dark. And then —

A sound. Soft. Barely there. But enough.

Alexia’s head snapped up. The door stood open.

Wind curled around the frame, though no wind stirred outside.

And there — standing in the doorway, wreathed in shadow and power — was her father.

King of the Gods. Judge of souls. Executioner of his own blood.

He wasn’t dressed in battle armor. He wore no crown tonight.

Only simple white robes that shimmered faintly in the dim light.

It made him look almost human. Almost merciful.

But Alexia knew better.

She had seen him destroy worlds with a glance.

And now he had come for hers.

Alexia scrambled from the bed, placing herself between you and him, arms outstretched like she could shield you from the force of a thousand suns.

Her knees were weak. Her chest burned. But she stood. She stood for you. Her voice cracked when she spoke.

"Please," she whispered. "Please don’t."

He looked at her, ancient and unmoving.

There was no anger in his face. No cruelty. Only something worse — inevitability.

"You knew the law," he said, voice low and final. "You chose to break it."

Alexia’s whole body shook.

"I love her," she said, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. "Is that so wrong? Is love wrong?"

Silence.

You shifted slightly behind her, murmuring something soft and incoherent in your sleep.

Alexia bit down on a sob.

Her father’s face remained still.

Unmoved. Unforgiving.

"You broke the balance," he said. "You brought the mortal world too close to ours. You made her vulnerable. You made all of them vulnerable."

"I’ll leave," Alexia said desperately.

"I’ll give it all up. My name. My power. I’ll become mortal if I have to. Just — please. Spare her."

Something flickered in his eyes. Regret. Or sadness. Or maybe nothing at all.

"You cannot bargain with destiny," he said. "You knew this end the moment you touched her heart."

Alexia staggered backward, feeling the ground vanish beneath her feet.

It was like drowning. It was like dying already.

The magic began to gather.

Alexia felt it — a slow, steady pull that wrapped around the room like a noose.

The stars outside blinked out one by one.

The fire in the hearth died.

Even the air seemed to vanish, leaving only a crushing stillness behind.

She turned to you —

Beautiful. Sleeping. Unaware.

Alexia crawled back onto the bed, pulled you into her arms, rocking you gently.

You stirred faintly, blinking up at her with sleepy confusion.

"Alexia...?" Your voice was so small, so trusting.

Alexia choked on a sob. "I’m here," she said. "I’m here, my love. I’m right here."

You smiled at her, slow and sweet, like you had all the time in the world.

Like tomorrow was waiting for you.

You reached up, fingers brushing clumsily against her cheek, as if to wipe her tears.

And then your hand fell away.

Your breath hitched.

Your body sagged against hers.

And Alexia knew.

In that moment — she knew.

She screamed your name, over and over, as if she could call you back.

She kissed your forehead, your mouth, your hands, desperate to warm you, to anchor you here.

But you were already slipping away.

Your last breath sighed against her collarbone, and then —

Stillness.

Real stillness.

The kind that could never be undone.

Alexia clutched you to her chest, howling like a wounded animal.

Her body shook with the force of her grief.

Her father stood at the foot of the bed, watching.

Silent.

Immovable.

A god who had just crushed his daughter's heart under his heel.

Alexia didn't feel the moment her world ended.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t a roar.

It was quiet.

Too quiet.

She held you against her chest, your head tucked under her chin, arms wrapped so tightly around you she could barely breathe.

Your skin had already gone cold.

But she refused to believe it.

She ran her fingers over your face — desperate — touching every inch of you like she could memorize it fast enough to keep you.

"Come back," she whispered.

Her voice broke on the words.

"Please, come back. Please, please, please."

But you didn't move.

Not the flutter of an eyelash.

Not the soft twitch of a dream.

Nothing.

She kissed you — your forehead, your cheeks, your frozen lips.

She whispered your name into the hollow of your throat where your heartbeat used to be.

She said it over and over, until it didn’t even sound like a name anymore, just a sound she couldn't stop making.

"I love you," she gasped into the silence.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

Her voice cracked open.

The bed that had held your laughter, your kisses, your whispered promises—

it was just a bed now.

A coffin dressed in soft sheets.

The smell of you — that sweet, warm smell she loved more than anything — still lingered.

It made it worse.

It made it unbearable.

She lay there Until the weight of you became too much even for her immortal strength.

Until her body shook with exhaustion and sorrow and something worse — the knowledge that no matter how long she lived, she would never touch you again.

The world outside went silent.

No birds.

No winds.

Even nature seemed to hold its breath.

She buried her face in your neck and pretended — for just one last moment — that you were only sleeping.

That when morning came, you’d roll over and kiss her good morning, half-asleep, mumbling about breakfast.

She stayed like that for hours.

When the other gods came, they were gentle. But she hated them for it.

They touched her shoulders. Whispered her name.

Tried to pry you from her arms like you were a possession she wasn’t allowed to keep.

"She’s mine," Alexia sobbed, voice feral.

"You can't take her from me. She's mine."

But they were stronger. And she was weak now. Broken.

When they finally lifted your body from her arms, Alexia howled.

A sound that tore open the clouds, that shook the very stars. The gods lowered their heads.They did not meet her eyes. Because even they knew

what had been done tonight could never be undone.

Alone in the wreckage of the life you built together, Alexia collapsed onto the bed.

The scent of you, the warmth of you, still clung to the sheets.

It was a grave now. A grave made of every memory she had ever cherished.

She pressed her face into your pillow and screamed into it, a soundless scream that shredded her throat, her chest, her soul.

"Come back to me," she whispered when her voice returned. "Come back. Please, come back. I'll be better. I'll do anything. Please."

But there was only silence.

And the slow fading of your warmth from the air.

The next morning never came.

The sun refused to rise over a world that had lost you.

The stars hid.

The heavens sealed themselves against the grief of a god's daughter.

Alexia did not move from your bed.

She would not eat.

Would not drink.

Would not breathe unless she had to.

She stayed curled in the ruins of your love, dying slowly inside, knowing that even death would not be a mercy granted to her.

She would live. And live. And live.

Remembering you. Remembering the night she couldn’t save you.

The night her father ripped you away.

The night she realized forever meant nothing without you.

Seasons shifted. Flowers bloomed.

Humans laughed.

They built cities from glass and stone.

But Alexia never forgot.

She carried your memory like a splinter under her skin — tiny, invisible, aching with every breath.

It happened quietly, without warning.

A tug on the golden string that tied her to you —

small at first, like the twitch of a muscle.

And then stronger.

Sharper.

Alexia stumbled to her knees in the halls of heaven, gasping for air she no longer needed.

"She's back," she choked out.

Her hands clutched the ground.

Tears blurred her vision.

The other gods turned their heads, unconcerned.

After all, what was one mortal life, more or less?

But for Alexia, it was everything.

You were everything.

You were born again under a low grey sky.

Rain fell heavy on the roof of the house where you took your first breath.

Alexia watched from the clouds, unseen.

You were so small. Your hands barely curled into fists.

Your eyes opened wide, taking in a world you had never seen —

and yet somewhere deep inside you, Alexia swore, there was a flicker of old light.

She pressed her hand to the barrier that separated their worlds and whispered your name.

You didn’t hear her. Of course you didn’t.

You had forgotten.

You grew quickly.

The years spun past like golden leaves in a river.

You climbed trees, laughed so loudly it scared the birds, dirtied your knees chasing after dogs in the street.

Alexia watched all of it.

From behind the veil. From the edge of dreams.

She learned your new laugh. Your new smile.

The new stubborn tilt of your chin when you didn’t get your way.

She loved you fiercely, quietly.

But she never came closer.

Never dared.

Her father’s words were still burned into her bones:

"Love her again, and I will destroy her."

"You were not made to love mortals."

"You do not get to disobey twice."

And Alexia believed him. Because she had watched you die in her arms once before.

And that kind of fear — it never really leaves you.

You lived fully.

You fell in love for the first time under a bright red sunset, your fingers laced with a boy’s as you danced barefoot in the grass.

Alexia watched you kiss him, your heart opening wide and easy.

Her own heart cracked a little. Not from jealousy. Not exactly.

From longing. From grief. Because it should have been her.

It had been, once.

And now you were smiling at someone else the way you had once smiled at her.

And Alexia — she was only a shadow at the edge of your life.

A ghost you didn’t know you were missing.

You married him. You built a life.

Alexia watched you raise children, your hair turning silver at your temples, your laugh growing softer but never fading.

And when you died —

peacefully, surrounded by the family you made —

Alexia set the sky on fire with her grief. Storms tore across oceans. Forests bowed under the weight of her sorrow.

It happened again. And again. And again.

Each life different.

Each life the same.

In one, you were an artist, your hands stained with paint, your soul burning too bright for one body to hold.

You loved a woman then, dark-haired and clever, and Alexia watched you spin poems into the air with your kisses.

In another, you were a warrior, a leader, a voice that rallied the broken-hearted.

You died young, with a sword in your hand and freedom in your blood.

Sometimes you lived long, quiet lives.

Sometimes you blazed across the sky like a falling star.

But always, you forgot her.

Always, you lived without her.

And Alexia —

she stayed in the shadows.

Every time.

Because she loved you too much to steal your life away again.

Because she loved you enough to hurt herself instead.