#there are no stakes and there’s no chance of me giving a fuck about what happens in the story when you treat your audience with such cruelty

[pinkmandias]

these quotes from rian johnson are exactly why i loved breaking bad so much and stopped watching the w*lking d**d after they fully admitted to needlessly and brutally killing off characters to drive the story forward/service other characters/upset their audience

[cosmicsnufkin]

.

[ariestrxsh]

*˖ ݁𖥔.𓀏·:*¨༺ .♱.✮.♱. ༻¨*:·𓀏.𖥔 ݁ ˖*

⚠️ content warning: ⚠️ smut, utter filth, praise, oral, light edging, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, cuckhold!matt, possessive!matt

✍️ Summary: ✍️ Matt and Chris make a bet, and Matt loses, but the stakes are high. Matt bet you, his girlfriend.

*˖ ݁𖥔.𓀏·:*¨༺ .♱.✮.♱. ༻¨*:·𓀏.𖥔 ݁ ˖*

she thinks of me part one

"Hey babe, please don't be mad," my boyfriend Matt said, biting his nails and avoiding eye contact with me. "I could never be mad. What's wrong?" I asked him, cupping his face and stroking it. I could tell something was seriously bothering him. "I made a bet with Chris. And I lost," Matt started.

"Okay? What kind of bet? Do you have to give him a lot of money or something?" I asked with concern in my voice. "Listen, I know I'm stupid. I shouldn't have put this on the table for a bet I wasn't sure I'd win," Matt continued, "I bet you. I lost a bet with Chris, and all he wanted if he won the bet was a chance to fuck you." My jaw dropped. "Listen, you can obviously say no, but yeah, then I will have to owe him a bunch of money instead," Matt shot me an innocent smile.

Is it bad that I was a little turned on by this? Of course, with Matt having two brothers who looked almost exactly like him, I couldn't deny that I was attracted to all of them, but I was afraid to let Matt know I did want to fuck Chris, and I was excited about him losing this particular bet.

"Don't worry, Matt. I patted him on the back. "I'll take one for the team. You won't have to owe him any money," I sighed, making him think I was doing him a favor as if I didn't have my own ulterior motives in mind. Plus, that would teach Matt to bet my body to anybody ever the fuck again.

Hours later, Chris stood over me on my bed. I was in a black classy lingerie set like he had requested. Matt was in the room, too. As much as he wanted to be blissfully unaware of what was going to go on between Chris and me in this room, Chris insisted that Matt watch.

The fact that Chris won a bet with his brother and what he wanted in return was to fuck me in front of my boyfriend was probably the hottest shit ever.

"Fuck, you look so amazing in that, ma," Chris said, adjusting the strap on my bra while he bit his lip. "Thank you, Chris," I batted my eyelashes at him. "You can take it off if you'd like," I whispered, giving him the eyes.

Matt scoffed at the way I was flirting with his brother in front of him, but part of the bet was that he wasn't allowed to stop us from doing anything together.

"Don't mind if I do," Chris softly responded, unhooking my bra. As it fell to the floor, he took one of my breasts into his palm and brushed his fingertips up against my nipple. I stifled a moan. With his left hand, he cradled my face, and with his right, he moved from my chest to my waist. He traced my curves, sending goosebumps across my skin. He licked his lips at me and slid his hand down the front of my black panties.

"Fuck, you're so wet," Chris gasped while he explored my sex, and I smiled innocently up at him. "You all wet for me, ma?" Chris inquired while he moved his fingertips in small circles. As I nodded, I saw Matt out of the corner of my eye clenching his jaw.

"Let's get these off of you, huh?" Chris cooed while he lifted up my hips to help take my panties off, and he shoved them into his back pocket. "Hey, what the fuck, Chris? That's not part of the plan. I said you could fuck her, not keep her panties," Matt got up into Chris' face. "Hey, chill. This is how I fuck, okay?" Chris responded. "Don't worry, baby. I'll buy you new ones," Matt said, putting his hands up in a defensive position and letting Chris get back to it.

I didn't want either of them to know, but I loved that Chris wanted to keep my panties. I wondered if he would look back on this encounter on lonely nights with my thong in one hand and his cock in the other. If I weren't already soaked, the thought of that alone would be enough to get me there.

Chris parted my legs with his hands and got up close and personal with my ladybits. "Wow, look at that gorgeous pussy," Chris said, admiring me. "If you think it looks nice, you should taste it," I whispered, devilishly grinning up at him, and I could feel Matt's eyes on me burning a hole through the side of my head. "I'd fucking love to," Chris looked up at me in disbelief, sounding surprised at how forward I was being and did as I suggested.

His tongue brushed against my sensitive cunt, feathering over my folds, and I smiled down at him as I whimpered, "Oh, Chris." I knew this would make Matt jealous, and it turned me on to think about him getting mad about his brother's mouth making me feel good enough to moan his name.

I played into it some more, gripping Chris' hair and rolling my hips forward so he could have better access to my clit. He responded by applying more pressure with his tongue and gently sucking on my most sensitive spot.

I glanced over at Matt through my hazy vision, and he looked pissed. He was gripping his chair, the veins in his hands and arms popping, and he looked like he wanted to kill us both.

"He's doing such a good job, Matt," I said in a breathy voice, smiling over at my boyfriend. Matt shook his head and shot me a look, but there was a part of me that swore Matt might have been enjoying it, just a little. His facial expression was one of anger and lust.

"Matt, you lucky bastard. I can't believe you get to eat this pussy every night," Chris growled, smirking up at Matt, who rolled his eyes in response to this. Chris gripped both my thighs, spreading them apart further and started moving his tongue back and forth with incredible speed. I felt myself on the brink of climax, but he abruptly stopped.

"Not yet, princess. I'm gonna take my time with you," Chris teased me. Matt shot his brother a look of contempt. Being called princess always turned me on so much, and Matt knew that. "'Keep calling me princess. I like that." I watched again as Matt shifted around uncomfortably in his seat. It was killing him not to be able to intervene at all. "Princess, you taste so fucking good," Chris whispered to me. He tenderly toyed my clit with his tongue for a little bit longer, and when I got close again, he stopped. I sighed and looked down at him, "you're such a tease."

He unzipped his pants and took them off, along with his boxers. Matt watched as Chris sunk his cock into my hole. I let out a small whimper as he slid it all the way in. "God, I've been dreaming about this forever," Chris whispered while he started rocking his hips back and forth. "Me too," I bit my lip to hold back a few whimpers. Chris smiled, but I could feel Matt glaring at me out of my peripheral vision.

I'd never told Matt I wanted to have sex with Chris, but I had fantasized about it before, and I figured I'd teach Matt a lesson about betting me, especially when he couldn't have anticipated how much I'd love fucking Chris.

"Oh, Chris!" I moaned louder this time while he thrust himself into me mercilessly. "Come on, princess. Let's give Matt a better look, shall we? Lay on your side," Chris cooed while we shifted positions. I turned over onto my left side, facing Matt, and Chris laid down behind me, spooning me and shoving his dick back into my cunt. He gripped my right thigh with his hand and held it up for better access. Chris leaned forward and whispered into my ear, "good fucking girl," while he continued to pound me. The angle was perfect. With every stroke, Chris was slamming into my cervix, and I felt myself relinquishing control to him.

Matt's previously stern demeanor was softening, and I could tell he was still jealous and possessive, but he was biting his lip and watching hungrily as Chris railed me. I loved how fast and hard Chris fucked. It was animalistic and hedonistic, but there was still a lot of sensuality and passion there too. My body moved in tandem with Chris' as he nailed me senseless.

"You take this cock so fucking good. Your pussy is all mine, princess," Chris whispered while he looked into Matt's eyes. Matt clenched his jaw once more, but I could see how hard he was through his pants, which made me enjoy sex with Chris even more. I loved that Matt was secretly getting off on it.

"Whose pussy is this?" Chris gruffly asked, reaching down to play with my clit. "Yours," I whimpered. "Say it again, princess. Tell me your pussy is all mine while you look at Matt," Chris told me. Fuck, he knew just how to push Matt's buttons. "My pussy is all yours, Chris," I cried out while I looked Matt in the eyes. Matt looked incredibly unamused.

I'd only seen Matt look this pissed once before in my life, and it was when some strange man slapped my ass in a bar once while Matt was standing right next to me, and he almost ended up fighting the dude. It was also how I figured out how much I got turned on by Matt being pissed off. He couldn't refrain. "Fuck you, Chris," Matt barked at his brother.

Chris ignored him and continued to fuck me until I was creaming all over his cock. My whole body trembled, and my climax cascaded over me like an orgasmic waterfall, and I moaned Chris' name nearly the whole time.

Shortly after, Chris pulled out of me and finished into his hand, while his eyes rolled back into his head. Profanities flowed from his mouth while his cum pooled into his palm. "Holy fuck, that was amazing," Chris uttered breathlessly.

"Okay, you had your fun. Now, get out, jackass," Matt said launching a towel in Chris' direction for him to clean up with. Chris laughed and made some snide remark, but Matt was not having it. "I'm serious. Get the fuck out before I kick your ass," Matt snarled.

Chris threw on his underwear and backed out of the room, saying, "Chill. Chill. It was a one-time thing." "Damn right it was," Matt said, slamming the door to my bedroom in Chris' face.

"Get on your fucking hands and knees. You're in so much fucking trouble. Your pussy belongs to Chris, huh? I think you forgot who really owns this pussy," Matt sternly told me while he unzipped his pants.

part two here 💖

taglist: @ariithereyet @bsturnzmtt @sofieeeeex @ribread03 @fratbrochrisgf @strnlxlqve @sturnzluv @sturniolo-girl (let me know if you'd like me to add or remove you from my taglist at any time)

[mxstellatayte]

hiiii ! could you write a part 2 for the charles and the vibe fic?

YIPPEE!!

i was gonna write it anyways but now i have an excuse to do it!

warnings: this is pure filth, threesome (mmf,) p in v sex, unprotected sex (DONT DO THAT,) mirror sex, carlos is an ass guy, charles is a boobs guy tho, kinda exhibitionism?, creampie, sex under the influence kinda?, it's all consensual though!

all you wanted to do was tease charles. all you wanted to do was see how much you could tempt his resolve before it would crumble. you had no idea it would result in getting eaten out in the bathroom and then promptly realizing that carlos had heard the whole thing and had covered for you and charles.

in exchange, carlos wanted to make even on a bet that he and charles had made at the start of the 2023 season.

monaco. february 10th, 2023.

"what do you think the odds are that one of us wins a race this year?"

charles looked up from the chessboard, his eyebrows furrowing. "what do you mean?"

"i was looking at the red bull and mclaren numbers and our car splits them. we have a fighting chance this year, so do you think one of us will get a win this year?" charles moves a rook, taking one of carlos' pawns.

"it depends. if my entire radio just sounds like 'we are checking, we are checking' and i have to make my own strategy and tyre calls, maybe. if xavi learns basic engineering and communicative skills or gets replaced altogether, i'd say yeah, there's a chance."

"you wanna bet?"

"what are we betting?"

carlos hesitates, then looks up when he hears the door opening. something clatters in the closet before you can be heard cursing quietly, then rearranging the fallen shoes onto the rack. eventually, you come through the doorway to the living room, and, when you see carlos, your face lights up.

"carlos! cómo estás?" (how are you?) you walk over and lean down, kissing his cheek in greeting.

"bien. un poco nervioso para bahrain, pero el carro maneja fantástico este año. y vos?" (good. a bit nervous for bahrain, but the car drives amazing this year. what about you?) you walk over to the kitchen while he's talking and pull out ingredients to make yourself a bowl of yogurt and berries- your favorite snack to have after work before you take your pit bull out for a walk.

"i'm alright. the marketing team made a stupid mistake so i had to do some damage control that took way longer than it should have, but i know martin is going to give them absolute hell tomorrow for it, so at least it doesn't reflect badly on me." your bowl clinks on the countertop as you sit down at the island and take out your computer, your headphones that were previously resting around your neck being slipped over your ears. "i've got some emails to write for an upcoming content creator collab we're doing, so i'll be in my zone. you guys know the drill?"

charles nods. "hermit mode?"

you smile, slipping the second speaker over your ear. "hermit mode."

a few moments pass before carlos speaks again. "are you okay with betting her?"

charles' eyebrows raise. "what do you mean?"

carlos makes his move on the chessboard. "if i win more races than you this year, i get her for a night. if you win more races than me, you can use me for a night. however you want."

the thought of his teammate and closest friend getting to fuck you lights a fire inside of charles, and while he wants nothing more than to agree to the bet purely for the stakes of it, he needs to check in with you first. "can i run it by her and get back to you on that?"

carlos nods. "just get me an answer by bahrain so we can figure something else out if she doesn't want to do that."

italy. february 3rd, 2024.

you had forgotten about the bet. charles and carlos had not.

now, just minutes later, you find yourself with your back once again against the wall, but this time you're staring into carlos' eyes while he fingers you gently, your legs wrapped around his waist and charles leaning against the vanity facing both of you. your eyes unintentionally flick over carlos' shoulder to your boyfriend who is an absolute mess. he's palming himself over his slacks, and you can tell just from the flush in his face that creeps down to his neck and the way his eyebrows are pinched together that he likes what he sees. before you can eye-fuck him the way you know he likes, carlos pulls his fingers out of you and you whine, but he carries you over to the vanity and taps your ass to get you to let go. "spin around, amor. let me see that beautiful ass of yours."

this is a side of carlos that you've never seen before, and it would be a lie to say that it's not hot. without a second thought, you spin yourself around so that your back is resting against his chest and your ass rests against his crotch. "come on, hermosa. bend over." as slowly as you can, you lean forward, resting your hands on the vanity and grinding yourself against him and you swear you can feel his dick twitch inside of his own black slacks. as soon as your forearms are fully resting on the granite vanity, carlos runs his hands down your back and to the front of your legs where he pulls the scarlet fabric of your dress to gather on your left side, the slit opening so that your entire ass is exposed. "no panties?" oh. you forgot about that.

"i kept them for good measure," charles says, pulling them out of his pocket. "you want 'em? you might have to shut her up. she never stops moaning."

"i know. i heard everything. you two are lucky i was the one outside and not anyone else. now," carlos says, taking your panties from your boyfriend and shoving them in his pocket, "do you feel like returning the favor?"

the whiskey you'd downed earlier is taking its effect, and you can't help but bite your lip and nod. normally, you wouldn't be nearly as confident as you are now with someone other than your boyfriend having you in the position you're in right now, but you trust carlos and frankly, you're too turned on to care. charles is in the same room and you're both comfortable enough in your relationship that it's okay. "yes, carlos. i'll return the favor. whatever you want." as you're talking, you can hear carlos unbuckle his belt and unzip his slacks, and when there's finally one layer of fabric between the two of you, carlos reaches into his jacket packet and pulls out a condom. before he opens it, though, you pipe up, your voice embarrassingly breathy and high. "i'm clean and on the pill. don't waste it if getting me pregnant is your only concern."

"are you sure?" carlos says, glancing over at charles. your boyfriend only responds with a shrug and points his thumb at you.

"whatever she says. you're the one fucking her."

carlos doesn't waste a second setting the condom on the vanity, pulling his slacks and underwear down his thighs just enough so that it's comfortable, and pushing into you. you have to bite your lip and cover your own mouth to prevent yourself from moaning too loudly, the stretch from carlos being so different to the one you're accustomed to with charles.

when you look up, carlos' head is thrown back and his hands grip your hips so tight his knuckles are white. it might be the hottest sight you've ever seen. "carlos." your voice is whiny, and you're shocked you can even get his name out.

"hm?"

"fuck me, please."

"are you sure?" his voice lilts in the way you're used to hearing, but this time, there's something slightly different about it. maybe it's the fact that he's currently buried inside of you, his hips flush with your own, or maybe it's the fact that every time you move your head to look up at him, your cunt squeezes around him so perfectly he fears he might cum within three thrusts, but either way, you feel so, so perfect.

"positive. now please. fuck. me." slowly, carlos pulls his hips back before pushing into you, slowly increasing his pace until every time his body meets your ass, you're shoved forward slightly on the counter and your breasts bounce forward, almost falling out of the low neckline of your dress.

"mierda, amor, tienes un coño hecho para mi," (shit, love, you have a cunt made for me,) carlos groans out, pulling your arms back and holding them with one hand while the other goes to hold you up by your neck. the restriction to your windpipe makes your head spin and the new angle has carlos' entire cock running against your g-spot with every thrust. you're able to wiggle your hands free, your left hand reaching back to tug at carlos' hair and your right goes down to rub circles around your clit, making you tighten around carlos' dick, and the combination of the pain from his hair being pulled and your cunt spasming around him makes him tip over the edge.

the feeling of carlos filling you up in turn sends you into your own orgasm, and as you cum, you look to your left, where charles jerks himself off watching you. when you make eye contact with him, though, it's the last straw and he spills into his hand with a quiet groan and his head thrown back.

the three of you catch your breaths and carlos pulls out of you gently, then shoves his cum back inside of you. the forgotten egg vibrator in charles' coat pocket is reinserted into your cunt and you whine at the overstimulation, slightly anxious that charles might tease you again, but he whispers a quiet promise in your ear that you've been good tonight, he won't turn it on anymore.

eventually, carlos slips out of the bathroom and you follow shortly after, walking back down the large hallway to return to the event. later that night, after speeches have been made, hollow promises have been spoken, and many, many bottles of expensive champagne have been toasted with, you make your way back outside, your arm linked with charles' as he calls his car to be pulled with the valet service. carlos walks up and stands next to the two of you, his car already on its way up, and turns to you.

"i'd say the bet is settled, no?"

there you have it folks :D

[pin-k-ink]

ruination // hoshina soshiro

tw ⇢ highly suggestive content, mentions of an injury, reader is fucking suicidal, strong sexual tension, slight nipple play, making out, dirty talk

wc ⇢ 3.2k

a/n: this is basically an experiment to see if i’m any good at writing for soshiro. so i need yall to give me some feedback this time please 🙏

Another kaiju attack, another chance to get up close and personal with true, visceral pandemonium. You ignored the blaring evacuation sirens as the city’s streets emptied around you in a stampede of panicked civilians. Where they saw horror, you found an intoxicating allure in the pounding footfalls and slashing claws reducing skyscrapers to rubble.

Up ahead, a thunderous roar shook the very earth underfoot. You grinned eagerly, clutching your camcorder tighter as you broke into a sprint towards the rampaging beast. This was your raison d'être - capturing the primal chaos and catastrophic beauty of each kaiju's uninhibited violence up close, no matter the cost.

What you hadn't anticipated was the familiar whirlwind abruptly blocking your path mere yards from the leviathan's wake of destruction. A lean form dropped into a battle-ready crouch as disheveled dark violet locks whipped across blazing ruby eyes.

"Well, well...if it isn't my own personal videographer stalker," Soshiro drawled in that rich, lazy cadence that never failed to rankle you.

Despite the undeniable peril surrounding you both, the elite monster hunter's full lips curved into a taunting smirk as he raked an insolent look over you from beneath lowered lashes.

"You know, there are easier ways to get some alone time with me besides throwing yourself into harm's way constantly," he purred. "All you gotta do is ask nicely and I'll let you film me up close and personal with all the...details."

You felt a traitorous flush creep up your neck at the blatant insinuation and couldn't resist scowling fiercely at Soshiro's audacity. As if his suave flirtations and flawless physique encased in that flattering skinsuit weren't enough of a distraction already!

"Ugh, no thanks," you sneered to cover for the treacherous flutter in your belly. "I prefer not to sully my lenses with footage of your ugly mug if I can help it."

Rather than looking affronted, Soshiro simply chuckled - the sound zinging through your veins like lightning before your muddled senses could react. In the blink of an eye, his blade was in hand as he angled his taut body into a defensive crouch shielding you from the kaiju's ravenous path.

"Well then, ugly or not," he shot back with a wink that should be illegal, "better get that fancy camera rolling, sweet thing. You're about to get an up-close look at how this big bad handles ugly customers..."

You hardly registered the lumbering beast's furious bellow as it wheeled towards you both, distracted by the lean lines of sinewy power thrumming through Soshiro with each sinuous shift of his stance. The relentless, feral aura of self-assurance bleeding from his pores in cresting waves of heat that made you feel utterly spellbound.

Shaking yourself free of the trance, you hefted the camcorder almost reflexively to start filming as Soshiro launched himself with devastating speed towards the kaiju's slashing maw. Despite the grave stakes, you couldn't deny your rapidly pounding pulse was just as much about capturing your bodyguard's unbound flow and virile grace on camera as the magnificent monster itself.

As always, Soshiro danced through the melee like a preternatural force unto himself - twisting and feinting with cat-like agility around each lancing tail sweep or snapping jaw until the perfect opening presented itself. The moment his blade carved into the beast's hide elicited a molten thrill you knew better than to name - one that had you ravenously tracking every coiled shift or his powerful physique and piercing eyes narrowed in sublime focus.

You continued relentlessly filming while Soshiro flowed from strike to high-flying counter like a man possessed. Utterly blind to anything but the sheer ruthless beauty of his form locked in mortal combat against the heaving, raging bulk swatting at his diminutive shadow.

So entranced were you by the dance underway that you failed to register your feet carrying you closer and closer into the heart of the fray. Not until a jagged chunk of debris went whipping past your head to strike home in a blossoming line of fiery agony across your scalp.

The world seemed to tilt dangerously for a moment, dimming at the edges as you reeled backwards with your free hand clutched to the ragged gash you could already feel seeping ribbons of wet heat down your face. Your grip on the camcorder slipped, precious cargo tumbling from numb fingers into the rubble.

Vague shouts and alarmed calls echoed in your ringing ears, barely piercing the fog of shock and concussion gripping your addled senses. Until suddenly, a pair of corded arms clamped around your waist to haul you bodily back against a powerful, compact frame that reeked of steel and sandalwood.

"What the fuck...?!" Soshiro roared breathlessly against your dazed form, sounding utterly incensed for perhaps the first time you'd witnessed. "Are you actually trying to get yourself killed today, you crazy girl?!"

You tried valiantly to quip back with some paltry rejoinder, to claw back a shred of your usual contemptuous bravado in the face of his censure. But his grip tightened with bruising force as he wrenched you aside even as you valiantly tried to squirm free.

"Hey, hey...look at me right now," he growled, scorching timbre bleeding real hints of genuine concern as his hand snared your jaw to still your reeling head.

Blearily, you managed to regain focus on the sharp planes of Soshiro's features twisted into rare unguarded turmoil as he drank in your battered state. His brows pinched, pursing those sinful lips around a guttural exhale as ruby irises slowly dilated with rising wrath.

"You never fucking listen to me," he bit out, each word clipped and dripping with bitter accusation. "I tell you to stay back, and what do you do? Go and get yourself hurt because you're too goddamn thick to see how much of a liability you make yourself when you pull this shit!"

You blinked back the sting of tears, uncomprehending and ashamed at the raw anger directed your way, He'd always been such an incorrigible flirt, not outright furious. What had--?

"You're bleeding...Fuck, you're putting me off my game here so fucking bad," Soshiro continued in a strained rush, free hand ghosting over the steady stream trickling from your hairline with surprising delicacy. "What's it gonna take for you to finally get it through that thick skull, huh? That I can't just—!"

Whatever frenzied outburst he might've unleashed fractured apart as the kaiju's baleful roar rent the air behind you both. You felt Soshiro's powerful frame tense against yours instinctively, torn between lashing you further and prioritizing the imminent threat looming ever nearer.

Without an ounce of ceremony, he simply turned and cupped the back of your skull to his chest as the ground quaked beneath another deadly stomp from the rampaging beast. You flinched despite yourself, bracing for the world to detonate around your fragile forms in violence.

Instead, you felt Soshiro's hips roll and coil in slow, sinuous motion as he absorbed the impact through his thighs with flawless technique. The compact power thrumming beneath his supple control sent a frisson of electric heat zinging down your spine to pool low in your core in unmistakable yearning.

"We'll finish this conversation once I've neutralized the threat," he grit out against the crown of your head in a low, dangerous purr. "Until then...don't you dare think about moving from this spot and forcing me to protect you from your own reckless ass again."

With that gruff declaration, Soshiro released you unceremoniously to rejoin the fray with a preternatural gait. You swayed in place numbly, fingers hovering over the ragged cut as wave after wave of arousal and shame crashed over your muddled senses in equal measure.

Part of you bristled at his cavalier disregard, your suicidal urges demanding you fling yourself back into the violent pandemonium without further thought. To let the kaiju's rampage swallow you whole in a blaze of visceral glory against Soshiro's wishes.

But the greater, deeply unsettling part clenched with a yearning you could no longer ignore as you tracked the elite hunter's lithe figure weaving amidst claw swipes and rubble in lethal tandem. Each rolling shift of his taut, sinewy muscles beneath that unforgiving suit set your mouth watering for reasons entirely divorced from your typical appetites.

This time, the compulsion had nothing to do with craving unbound violence or anarchy raining down without mercy. No, your new fixation centered solely on what primal ecstasy might await should you surrender to Soshiro's virile dominion utterly and without reservation. To indulge in the promise of violent rapture bound in the most intoxicating packaging imaginable...

You really were utterly, inexplicably gone when it came to this fearless man blurring the lines between heroics and carnal audacity. And unless this maddening attraction claimed you first, the discovery of whether you'd finally bent Soshiro's staunch convictions to your suicidal compulsions might just render the distinction tragically moot.

You drifted back to consciousness slowly, a dull throbbing ache pulsing behind your eyes to the cadence of beeping machines. Grimacing against the harsh fluorescent lights, you cracked open your lids and immediately recognized the stark sterility of a hospital room surrounding you.

Sluggishly, the fractured memories trickled back - the kaiju's rampage, Soshiro's scathing fury as he pinned you to safety while blood matted your hair. Tentatively, you raised one hand and felt the coarse linen bandages swaddling your head in confirmation. So that part, at least, hadn't been some fevered dream.

Wincing through the fog of grogginess, you braced yourself upright on shaking arms in preparation to swing your legs over the side of the mattress. This place was the last you wanted to linger after awakening, no matter the severity of your injuries. Anywhere had to be better than--

"Don't. Even. Think about it."

You froze at the rough, utterly irate rasp that seemed to roll over your prone form in a wave of molten sin. Slowly, you felt the hairs along your nape prickling to attention as your gaze skated up over a pair of powerful thighs clad in fatigues to settle on Soshiro's furious visage.

The elite hunter was perched on the room's solitary chair with his forearms braced on widespread knees, dark locks askew in artful disarray. But it was those striking ruby irises smoldering from beneath lowered lashes that held you utterly immobile, pinning you to the mattress with more force than any physical restraint ever could.

"You gotta be kidding me..." Soshiro growled after a fraught pause, upper lip curling in a wordless snarl. "After that stunt you pulled back there, you're seriously going to try and flee medical right when you finally come to?"

You swallowed hard, torn between withering beneath the sheer wrath radiating off him in waves or doubling down with some token act of defiance. Before you could determine which, Soshiro was surging to his feet in an effortless roll of taut muscle and prowling towards the bed like a panther eyeing its prey.

"I said," he repeated, each word bitten off like a slashing blade as you felt the mattress dip beside your prone form, "don't even think about moving, sweet thing..."

Suddenly his looming silhouette blotted out all other input, hemming you in with no avenue of escape as scorching puffs of his molten baritone caressed your flushed features. You stared up at Soshiro in dumbstruck, reluctant awe of the towering fury he exuded so effortlessly - a primal force of nature in his own right contained only by savage self-discipline.

Yet beneath the palpable waves of reproach rolling off him was something else, something darker and infinitely more perilous that set your nerve endings alight in ways you couldn't fathom. It simmered in the blistering intensity of his hooded stare boring into your widened eyes as one calloused palm rose to settle over your rapidly thundering pulse.

"You're lucky you didn't lose this tonight," Soshiro murmured, deep baritone turned to gravel as his knuckles grazed the sensitive skin over your jugular tauntingly. "Playing those idiotic reindeer games amidst a fuckin' deadly situation..."

He trailed off in a wordless growl, the backs of his fingers drifting down the pounding column of your throat in a slithering caress that raised heated goosebumps erupting over every inch of your hyper-aware flesh. Lower still, tracing over your collarbones tantalizingly before he seemed to regain control of himself.

"When are you going to get through that thick skull of yours, huh?" Soshiro rasped out, thumb anchoring against the throbbing pulse point beneath your jaw in a subtly possessive brand. "Realize you're not invincible...and that some of us actually give a damn whether you make it through each rampage intact and breathing?"

You forgot to inhale entirely as he shifted infinitesimally closer on the mattress, until your rapidly thrumming chests were mere inches apart. The simmering intensity of his gaze left you reeling, dizzy in a way the sedatives couldn't account for as each panted breath filled your starving lungs with his dark, inebriating musk.

"Or is that exactly what gets you so worked up and reckless out there, pretty girl?" Soshiro continued in a hushed rasp bordering on a sinful purr that had you flushing all the way down to your toes. "Knowing once the dust settles...we'll be left alone to keep picking up wherever we left off that night? Just me...and my very own lil' daredevil to punish as I see fit..."

Molten desire crashed over you in a searing wave as Soshiro finished with a lingering lick of his full lips, staring down at your own parted ones hungrily. Before you could draw breath to whimper out a response, his palm suddenly splayed warm and possessive over the quivering flat of your abdomen beneath the sheets.

"I don't know how many times I've imagined putting you over my knee for that kind of discipline, sweet thing..." he husked out with liquid silk potency, sending an exquisite tremor racing over your form. "Or bending you right over whatever pile of rubble happens to be closest when the urge strikes...taking my belt to that perfect ass for being so goddamn foolish..."

You keened softly, a high needy sound barely pushing past the lump in your throat. Soshiro seemed to vibrate with answering tension in response, weight sinking further into the vee of your splayed thighs until his chest dragged deliciously against the hardened peaks of your nipples.

"Is that what you really want from me, baby girl?" he growled against the scorching sweep of your cheek, silken heat searing your inflamed senses. "To earn yourself one of my special...punishments at last?"

Your breath left you in a shuddering rush with Soshiro's mouth a hairsbreadth from capturing your own in a searing glide. His fingers twitched, clenching almost imperceptibly against the feverish plane of your stomach as if fighting not to fist the hospital gown and drag you flush against his firm, straining contours.

Soshiro's smoldering stare bored into you with the intensity of a supernova as his thumb rasped over your parted lips in a teasing caress. You instinctively strained toward the promise of his molten mouth, already addicted to that sinful heat despite having yet to indulge.

"Is this what you want?" he husked out in a low rasp that washed over your tingling nerve endings like the most exquisite temptation.

You managed the barest tremor of a nod, whimpering softly as his nose brushed the column of your straining throat in the barest of nuzzles. The rough caress of Soshiro's shadowed jawline ghosting over your hypersensitive skin made you shudder against him helplessly.

"You'll have to use your words, pretty girl," he growled against the thundering pulse leaping just beneath your jaw. "Tell me exactly how bad you need this..."

His tongue traced a blazing path over the hollow of your throat, laving the sweat-slick notch between your collarbones in one tantalizingly slow glide. You whined at the molten temptation, back arching on instinct to press your aching curves against the scorching weight of his powerful frame hovering so tauntingly near.

"Please..." you managed to rasp out desperately, hands fisting in the sheets with restraint. "Soshiro, please I need-- nnngh!"

The rest of your plea dissolved into a high, keening whimper as he sealed his velvet mouth over the rigid peak of your breast in a soul-searing clamp. Soshiro growled softly in evident satisfaction around the mouthful, the vibration ricocheting straight to your throbbing pussy in merciless rapture.

One calloused palm curved around the generous swell spilling free of your sheer gown, possessive and insistent as he laved broad swirls of his sinful tongue over your nipple. You thrashed against the mattress at the overwhelming onslaught of sensation, nails raking along his sculpted forearms in a frantic bid for leverage.

He took that as encouragement, tongue lashing and teeth scraping across your tit with alternating swipes of scorching pleasure and pinprick rapture until you keened unintelligibly. Only then did Soshiro finally release you with one last lingering suckle before dragging his mouth higher in a blazing path.

"Look at me," he snarled in a voice made to ravage. Your eyes flew open to meet the molten, blown crimson glare leveled at you from mere inches away. "Eyes on me when I finally claim this perfect fucking mouth..."

With a low, feral sound he sealed his lips over yours in an explosive crash that instantly stole what little oxygen remained in your lungs with bruising intensity. Soshiro instantly delved his questing tongue past the seam of your parted mouth to invade every slick corner in a deep, territorial glide that left you squirming and whimpering against him shamelessly.

He drank down every gasping, desperate sound greedily, mercilessly ravaging you with wicked swirls and flicks of his velvet muscle that set your world spinning on its axis. You writhed against Soshiro's sculpted body, desperate for any scrap of friction while his weight caged you in relentless captivity.

A shuddering eternity passed with only the filthy slick and harsh pants shared between your greedy mouths echoing off the stark walls. Until at last, Soshiro dragged his lips from yours with a strangled groan, leaving you chasing the connection deliriously as he pinned you with a look of naked, burning possession.

"That's it, sweetheart..." he rasped out in a tone made to scorch every inch of your fevered skin anew. "You just lie there and take your punishment nice and slow...make up for all those close calls when I didn't get the chance to show you how fucking gone I was over every reckless little stunt..."

His mouth crashed back over yours in a searing lay of pure dominance before you could whimper out a response. Soshiro instantly picked up where he'd left off - mapping out every slick crevice with his questing tongue until you shattered against his ruthless onslaught once more.

As the darkness swept in to claim your spiraling consciousness, one blazing truth remained etched into your overloaded synapses even as blissful oblivion swallowed you under its tide - that you would finally surrender everything to this virile, unbound creature's communion without reservation.

Over and over, for however long it took for Soshiro to assuage the ravenous need driving his merciless claiming and bestow the ruinous rapture you'd been so foolishly, recklessly courting all this time. Because nothing else could possibly sate the hunger howling through you both like the maddening call of a wild siren.

[mellowwillowy]

"Oh..." Your boyfriend secretly checked your scorecard before you did and was greeted with a line of miserable A until his eyes landed on a B. This would surely take a taxing toll on your mind.

"Hmm..."

He started to hum, what should he do? Hack through the website and change the inputted number for you? What if the scoring system was filed through physical form too?

I really hope you would just shrug it off and say your classic 'It had happened, what more could I do?' instead of stressing yourself with it.

Blue pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squinted shut as he tried to find a solution for this. Your scholarship is at stake, edged to the despairing ending. But there might be chances that your scholarship was only a one-semester thing and this could ease the burden on your mind.

Hacking through the website system is not a problem but ensuring that your score is true to the one inputted online is the real problem here. Bribery would work but should he risk it all? Should he really taint something so pristine, something so you?

Jaw clenched tightly, the urge to throw the mouse across the room is increasing. Why must the professor go through such trouble to give you a ridiculous grade? The unreasonable one here is her and not you.

"God... dammit-!" With a flick of his wrist, the mouse shattered into pieces as it hit the ground. "This fucking pebble-like old hag, why must you trouble me with this bullshit." He cursed under his breath as though he was the one unbenefited from this instance, face darkened while his blue eyes glinted in fury.

Upon a moment of silence, Blue decided to save you from this headache. He started to work on his PC again, this time to hack through the website and change your supposed score into an A.

"Whatever, not a thing that I can't manage. I suppose a visit with a wrapped gun would work or whatever, maybe a wrapped nail-packed lunch... or just poisonous flower..." His mumblings were mostly drowned with the clackings of the keyboard, "or maybe just a branded bag... or something better."

Something of his forte.

"Maybe some fresh blackmail material... or perhaps, debt."

---

"Woahhh~! Look, Blue! Look! I aced it all! A whole A!"

Blue laughed at your excitement as he easily lifted you up and twirled you around, "Guess this call for a celebration? What about a trip to your favorite diner and bust all their menu?"

You urged him to drop you down before you hop excitedly, "Yes! Let's get them now!"

Chuckling to himself, he thought to himself, Today is our good day so I shouldn't bother myself with that old hag just yet. Maybe tomorrow, or the day after. Any day but today.

"Let's fill this tummy with its expected reward, come." He held you by your hand toward the front door.

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Mingyu Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2 part 3

One Shots

Honeyboy (a s f) by @chocosvt ✩♬ ₊˚. when you graduate high school, you realize you’re not really going to miss anyone, apart from a cute boy who doesn’t even remember your name. five years later, after accepting an offer to pass the summer at a friend’s lake house, he’s standing right in front of you. the universe doesn’t give second chances very often. you’re not going to let the honey boy slip away twice. 

sugar and you (f) by @97-liners ✩♬ ₊˚. in which mingyu is an idealistic pastry chef, and you’re a cynical wedding planner who doesn’t believe in love.

When I Kissed the Teacher (f) by @highvern ✩♬ ₊˚. Mr. Kim has a crush, to his students that much is clear. It's also clear that you like him too. What happens when a group of meddlesome ten year olds decide to play cupid for their two favorite teachers?

Lilac Lace (s) by @starlightxsvt ✩♬ ₊˚. without much options left on your hands, you become Mingyu's roommate. things take a wild turn after a few weeks.

First Date (s) by @cheolhub ✩♬ ₊˚. mingyu doesn’t usually fuck on the first date. emphasis on usually.

secrets kept from roommates (s) by @cheolism ✩♬ ₊˚. you are hiding a secret from mingyu. little do you know that he's hiding one from you too.

The Perils of Apartment Living (s) by @dontflailmenow ✩♬ ₊˚. While lying in bed, the two of them can't help but overhear their upstairs neighbors going at it rather loudly. Mingyu turns to You after a while, and asks, “You wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance?”

It's all fun and games (s) by @dontflailmenow ✩♬ ₊˚. reader thinks it’s fun to troll her buddy, mingyu, for being all big and strong. and it is! except at some point it turns out maybe she’s not just teasing and they’re both into it (and each other)

creep (s) by @smileysuh ✩♬ ₊˚. “If the roles were reversed - if you were a ghost bound to this apartment forever - you’re saying you wouldn’t watch me get naked every day?” He’s definitely got a point. As your eyes skim Mingyu's perfect form again, that tingle returns between your legs. There’s no reason for him to be as sexy as he is- murders aren’t the only shocking thing this man has under his belt and you can see that now. 

Midnight Appetite (s) (ft. wonwoo) by @writeformesinpie ✩♬ ₊˚. You have found yourself in possession of an invite to the exclusive host club The Midnight Appetite. Within moments of walking into the establishment, one of the hosts sinks his claws in, staking his claim on you for the night. It isn’t long, though, before he adds another to your table. This isn’t how you thought your night would go. 

class project (s) (ft. wonwoo) by @smileysuh ✩♬ ₊˚. You’re less than enthusiastic about being paired with notorious frat boys Mingyu and Wonwoo for a class project. They make it a point to change your opinion of them... by being the ultimate meanies. 

newbf!mingyu (s) by @hannieehaee

better late than never (s) by @seungkw1

[daceydeath]

Try Again?

Pairing: Chan x F Reader Word Count: 2K Genre: Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Swearing

A part two of Why

You needed time to think the scandal was growing and you needed to be sure that you believed Chan or whether you should walk away for good

It had been almost twenty four hours since you had asked Chis to leave your apartment and the first seven, you predicted of many, bouquets of flowers had already arrived at your door. Although you conceded not all of them were from him, one had been from Felix, you were still not sure what to do. You knew about articles on Dispatch titled "Stray Kids Bang Chan Caught Kissing Mystery Woman" and "Stray Kids Bang Chan Takes Advantage of Fan". There were dozens of smaller articles of Chan with the whore sitting on his lap and all of them made your heart break a little more. You believed him but somewhere in the back of your mind you knew that there was always a chance he was lying to you to keep what he already had from slipping through his fingers.

Your phone rang for the twenty eighth time only this time it wasn't Chan or his manager it was Changbin and you knew at least he would tell you the truth, probably. There was little for him to lose, you would remain friends with the other guys whatever happened, you just wouldn't be able to see Chan again. Ever.

"I'm so sorry we didn't stop her" Changbin blurted loudly as soon as you answered the call "Shit we knew she was going to cause a problem as soon as Hyunjin spotted her following us".

"Bin, start from the beginning" you mumbled your voice scratchy from crying. You felt too listless to bother trying to piece information together.

"Hyunjin spotted her while we were filming and she seemed to be following us, when we finished and went out to the bar she popped up again and we knew she was going to cause some kind of issue, the psycho ones always do. But none of us guessed she was going to launch herself at Chan hyung and try to kiss him let alone sit in his lap. She was on him for like 15 seconds before security grabbed her and kicked her out" Changbin prattled before taking his first breath, you understood now why he was a rapper with the ability to speak so clearly but almost so fast you couldn't follow him.

"You were drunk Bin, Chan told me you all were" you sighed sitting on the floor in your lounge unable to even bring yourself to sit on the couch you had been sitting on when he had told you.

"Not that drunk! sure we were all a bit worse for wear but not so much that we didn't panic the moment she jumped hyung" he defended knowing that you knew he rarely got plastered unless he was somewhere that Stay wouldn't see him.

"So a sasaeng followed you around all day and then to the bar and you all did nothing until she decided to sit in Chan's lap and try to kiss him? That's the story you are going with?" you sniffled you had already run out of tears so an almost miserable apathy was all you could manage at that point.

"I'm not lying to you" Changbin's pretty much shouted down the phone frustration evident in his voice "Fuck I have no stake in what happens between you and hyung but I would prefer than neither of you get hurt by bullshit that was caused by someone else".

You stayed silent, your shaky breath probably the only thing he could hear as the moments dragged on before you hung up adding him to the growing list of people you were blocking as the day wore on. You were too tired to deal with this now and no matter what anyone thought you had to protect yourself first.

Another two days passed and another two of the boys had joined your blocked list for not getting the message and blowing up your phone, the list now stood at four members and three managers, you had just hoped that the others would get the hint and either contact you sparingly or just leave you alone until you were ready to deal with it. The articles kept coming, the whore had been sure to give out as much information as she could making the story grow exponentially and Stay were getting angry that the members were being crucified with no evidence to back the claims up. You were now seeing the situation for what it was and to quote Changbin it was just 'bullshit'.

"Holy shit bug are you ok? Everyone is so worried since you just disappeared" Felix asked as he stepped into your apartment with Hyunjin and Minho on his heels. You had invited them over so you could ask them exactly what happened and how Chan was doing, hoping you could finally either tell him that you believed him or to never contact you again.

"I'm better, I just needed some time" you smiled, accepting his tight hug and letting them sit where they wanted "Can I get you anything?".

"No, we brought you coffee though, to perhaps help" Minho offered, placing an iced latte down on your coffee table.

"Thanks Min" you smiled as genuinely as you could. All of the members had been so kind to you after they met you and found out you were with Chan and Minho was no exception to that even though it took him longer to come around.

"Three shots with vanilla syrup" he smiled in return and waited for you to sit down.

"I didn't want to call you and tell you over the phone" Hyunjin started nervously "I wanted to be able to tell you the truth and you be able to see it".

"That's more than I deserve Hyunnie, I've been quite the bitch over the past few days" you felt the skin of your face burning in shame at your admission.

"You were hurt, you had every right to feel what you were feeling" Felix interjected his normally cheerful bright smile replaced with a small shy one.

"We had been filming a Skz Talker" Hyunjin sighed watching you take a sip of the coffee "This girl was following us, but always off camera and only when we were in public, I noticed her after one of the managers was grumbling about her. She seemed fairly harmless just taking pictures and filming us, which isn't as bad as some of the shit they do, so I ignored her".

"Hyunjin pointed her out to a couple of us so I saw her and I'm pretty sure Seung and Innie did too but I'm not totally sure. But she honestly didn't seem as bad as some of the others do so we were probably not cautious enough about her which is on all of us, the managers included" Minho frowned, his eyes sadder than you had seen them in a while.

"When we went to dinner I don't think she was there and then the little bar we went to after that was so small there can't have been more than twenty other people in, including the staff" Felix added cautiously "but granted I hadn't seen her until it happened".

"We had a few drinks, Channie hyung was tipsy and barely at that, and she just appeared and wandered over like she was a friend. He didn't even see her until he sat on him and he was too stunned to even do anything about it, when he didn't react she grabbed his shirt and kissed him which he shut down immediately" Hyunjin continued slowly letting the information sink in. "He just about shoved her to the floor though, once we all yelled and the managers grabbed her Chan hyung just started cursing her out for being a psycho and disgusting, I think Minho hyung called her an whore because he is savage when he wants to be"

"An attention seeking whore but yeah semantics really" Minho confirmed, shrugging casually.

"We were all shocked and Channie hyung just broke down after it all happened and kept saying he needed to see you, he had to tell you but by the time we got back into Seoul and he got here it had already become a scandal" Felix pouted looking like he was the one who had messed up.

"Thank you all for telling me" you smiled halfheartedly, sipping your coffee again.

"Have you eaten today?" Minho asked seriously, looking at you sympathetically.

"I'll order something for dinner in a little while" you nodded your body feeling drained "I promise".

"Are you going to talk to hyung? He's losing his mind over this, not even the rumors and bad press over you not talking to him" Felix questioned as sweetly as he could.

"I'll call him" you again nodded as they all got up to leave, letting you walk them to the door.

"I swear that's the truth" Hyunjin took your hand to squeeze it "Hyung would rather give up his career than lose you".

"I would never allow that Hyunnie" you squeezed his hand back before they walked out and you shut the door behind them. You knew they hadn't lied to you and you also knew that Chan probably hadn't eaten or slept since it happened which made you feel so guilty that you felt your throat tighten. Taking a deep breath you unblocked his number and waited to see if anything happened, opening your food app you ordered something to arrive in an hour knowing that you would forget about it otherwise. Five minutes after the boys left your phone rang, Chan's picture filling your screen and making your heart clench.

"Baby girl?" He whispered his voice croaky "Baby girl please talk to me".

"Hi Channie" you answered him, your voice shaking.

"Oh shit, baby girl I'm so sorry. I've missed you so much and I'm sorry I fucked everything up and broke your heart but I'll do anything, absolutely anything to get another chance. Please. I love you so fucking much I can't breathe without you". He rambled, his voice turning thick as you imagined tears springing into his eyes.

"Channie, you don't need another chance, you didn't lose the first chance" you explained "I spoke to Hyunjin he told me everything and I'm so sorry I doubted you. I should have known you would never do that to me. I should have trusted you more but I was so scared that you might not love me anymore and I already knew you were too good for me so.... I'm sorry Channie".

"No, no, no you have nothing to be sorry for" Chan interrupted "I'm coming round I don't want this conversation to be over the phone. Is that ok?"

"The doors open Channie" you smiled as he hung up and you imagined him rushing around to get to your apartment.

When he arrived you almost cried looking at how tired and wrecked he looked, heavy bags under his eyes, his hair a mess and his cheeks pale. He didn't say a word, just pulled you into his arms holding you so tight that you thought he might not let you go again.

"I love you, I'll leave Stray Kids, I'll quit music, I'll announce we're together whatever you want me to do to prove I mean it" he breathed into your hair his lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"You will do none of those things Channie" you softly protested your voice muffled against his chest "But maybe get more security to stop the insane people getting so close to you?".

"I will definitely do that baby girl" he sighed, his hold on you relaxing slightly "can we try this again?".

"We never broke up Channie I just needed some time, I didn't leave you I just needed space" you whispered "I know I was a bitch and went about it the wrong way. I should have told you what I needed instead of just shutting you out but I still love you very much".

Chan let go of you tilting your face to look at him, his smile so bright that it was almost blinding before he crashed his lips into yours, the emotion behind the kiss a promise that it would never happen again, that his heart and soul belonged to you. Melting against him you knew you would never not trust him again you loved Chan and that was all that mattered.

a/n: I know this took me like a year to finish but I hope you enjoy it all the same. Your likes, comments, reblogs and support means everything to me and I adore you all xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz @armystay89 @damnyouficc @roamingpolar

@tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie @krishastumblernow @mrsseals16 @fawnpeaks

@leeknowinggg @tanzen-ist-gold @uno7 @ocean-dreamer-sky-chaser

[webslingingslasher]

https://www.tumblr.com/webslingingslasher/739562902099492864/the-panic-attack-please-im-cackling-jdjdjdj-it

also he would feel so bad😭😭 the fetishise ask thing got me thinking. imagine she lies or pretends she’s not a virgin at first just bc guys are super weird when they find out ab it, so she does that just as a protection thing/to get weird guys off her back. so Peter doesn’t know & imagine they’re making out or whatever but he’s super quick with it and suddenly there’s a dick in front of her and she starts panicking JAHAHAHAAHA

I csnt stop laughing picturing this. he’d be so confused but so worried HABABA

*cleaning out my inbox* an: this is not our trouble/reader. this is an au with our peter!

you got a little too far into it. in your defense, your friends told you instinct would take over and you’d just fall into it and you’d do anything when you’re horny and in the moment.

but right now, in this moment, you’re panicking because someone other than you is taking your shirt off, and someone other than you is touching your breasts.

you got this, you can handle this. you’ve made it this close, what’s a little closer? you could finally get it over with, and with a guy that’s astronomically hot. god was giving you a chance and you weren’t about to fuck it up.

you can handle being tossed to the bed, you can handle warm palms cupping your ass, you can handle a brush of his core into yours. you can handle peter taking off his pants, you can handle peter… peter… he’s-

peter’s got a big dick, and it’s coming right at your virgin body, and you can’t handle this. how are you supposed to lie your way out of this? or was it into this?

it doesn’t matter, he’s going to know the second he tries to put it in. fuck, is he going to put it in? yes, that’s how sex works- okay, fuck, shut up!

peter’s got a gleam in his eye, how fucked were you about to make things? you’re the one that came onto him and now you’re freaking out because there’s a real deal penis and real deal sex situation happening and you have no idea what to do.

‘that’s a penis.’ your hands clasp over your mouth, it was the least sexiest thing you could say and it shows on peter’s face.

‘i’ve…’ you swallow hard and feel everything in you ignite, you’re praying to any god listening he just takes you out of your misery right then and there. isn’t premarital sex a sin? you should be burnt at the stake.

‘i’ve never seen one before.’

‘oh, jesus christ.’ a shuffle, it’s out of your sight and you can’t begin to explain the relief. you stare down at your hands, if you didn’t have to walk by peter, you’d be out of his room in a second.

you peek up at a flash in the corner of your eye, your shirt was outstretched and pushed into your hold. ‘if you can’t see mine, i can’t see yours.’ your chest doesn’t feel as tight, he’s not mad, just a little thrown off.

‘i’m sorry.’ you’re still shy when you meet his eyes, even if you’re fully clothed. ‘but like, i didn’t tell you i wasn’t a virgin.’

peter crosses his arms over his chest. ‘and you didn’t tell me you were until it got too real.’ he’s right, your shoulders slump, isn’t it just embarrassing? not even the lying, just the fact you’re in college and you’re still a virgin.

‘i just thought it could get it out of the way, i don’t know.’

peter scoffs, ‘well, you don’t do it like this.’

does that mean he’s off the table, did you shoot too high? ‘so, you don’t have sex with virgins?’

‘it’s not in my day to day schedule, no.’

‘you’ve never taken a girls virginity?’

‘did i say that?’

‘no.’ it’s unsettled emotion, it’s the only reason you huff and cross your arms at him. yes, make this his fault.

‘i thought you’d be the perfect candidate, but i guess not. i didn’t know frat boys actually cared this much.’ if peter wasn’t going to kick you out before, he would now. you offended him.

‘the fuck? sex is a whole different ball game when you’re a virgin. you don’t know that yet, i do. it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and have a good time, that wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t tell me.’

you started something, he wasn’t stopping.

‘i’m not saying there aren’t guys like that out there-that’ll do what you want, but it’s not me. if you want to get it over with like that, fine. but i’m not doing it in one night.’

you naw on your bottom lip, if you got this far what’s one more question? ‘so, would you?’

‘would i what?’ you chew harsher, it was easier to just pretend you weren’t a virgin. you shouldn’t never stopped him. ‘take my virginity.’ you spit the words, before he could try to repeat himself, ‘i mean, at your speed or whatever.’

peter has a series of emotions run through his mind, they all tell him it’s a bad idea. the heightened emotions, the awkwardness, the whole hurt thing, he just never really thought he’d have to go through it again.

‘you don’t know me.’ it should be more than enough, but you counteract him. ‘i know. that’s kind of why i chose you.’

a deep inhale, ‘you baited me? was this your plan?’ you try to clear the idea with your hands. ‘no, no, no! the plan was to not tell you but then i got scared. but since you already know… you know?’

‘no.’

you drop your head into your hands, everything is getting worse. you should’ve went through with it. ‘everything is awful and i want to die. i’m so sorry, peter. we can just forget this ever happened and if you see me around campus, no you don’t.’

you try to paint yourself invisible, instead you get a half earnest sigh from peter. ‘alright, look, you’re fine. it’s fine. you’re actually… strides ahead than i was when i was a virgin, okay?’

of course he says that, he’s already been through it. ‘but im too old to be a virgin!’

‘pft, what? no. have you seen 40 year old virgin?’ you cry out into your hands, ‘im not steve carell!’ you really had to pick a man? was that really the only option you had?

‘be honest with me, the pathetic virgin-‘

‘stop.’

‘- if i do this with another guy will he know?’ you hold on tight for the answer, it’s not long, it’s immediate. ‘yes.’ you’re not sure if he’s just saying that so you don’t throw off another guy.

‘no, seriously. would he-‘

‘yes.’ you exhale a ‘fuck.’ game over, if you really wanted this, you’d actually have to find someone to date you. that sounds like actual hell.

since you’re already in the pits, ‘peter?’ a hum, you finally blink up at him. ‘are you sure you won’t do it?’ you watch him take a solid breath, his next words chosen articulately.

‘when did i say i wouldn’t?’

you explode in a smile, you were right, you chose the right person. ‘you will? like, you’re gonna make me not a virgin?’

peter thinks- no, knows it’s a bad idea, but you’re going to do it regardless and he knows he’s better than a majority of guys on campus. he’d actually make sure you’re safe and comfortable. was he really about to do all the first steps with someone he didn’t know?

yeah. he was.

‘yes. i’ll take your virginity.’

[k-hotchoisan]

hii it’s me again with another request (sorry)

Could you write smtg based off the song agora hills by doja cat? whatever member u prefer is fine 💕💕

anywayssss i love you smmm and u are an amazing person!! 💕💕🤭🧎‍♀️

omg that is such a cute song (if you squint hard enough past the public sex HAHAHAH)

Please never apologise for coming back for a request, you know I’ll always welcome you with open arms 🥰

Always thank you for being so sweet vic (if it’s okay to call you that~) and for giving me inspiration + pushing me write out of my boundaries. I genuinely appreciate it.

AND I LOVE YOU TOO 🗣️🩷😭

Where you and Seonghwa have a fight before his Grand Prix finals, but he still wins, and loses his fucking mind when he sees you still cheering for him despite that.

Genre/Warnings: racer au, smut, semi public sex, you fuck Seonghwa in his racer gear, IF YOU SQUINT HARD ENOUGH THERES LIKE ANGST (it isn’t heavy don’t worry), creampies, mild dacryphilla, unprotected sex, sweaty sex

You storm past your partner into the hotel room, trying to let the anger dissipate. Seonghwa is trying to get to you, explaining what you saw. You know that it couldn’t be helped, but feel the thorns prickling your heart when you couldn’t even approach him when you caught one of his overly zealous and nepotistic fans with her hands over him during the after party. Nothing much could done because;

a. He couldn’t do anything about it because the relationship between the both of you had to be kept a secret, his management did not like the thought of entertaining Seonghwa in a relationship when his career is at his peak;

b. The Grand Prix finale was tomorrow. A lot of stakes were in place, and Seonghwa knew better than to fuck it up, especially when he’s worked so hard to get where he is now. He’s so close.

He’s also so fucking close to just wanting to let the world know how possessive he is over you.

“You know it’s not like that right?” and he goes on and on. You know that it’s part of his job—to network, get more sponsors, even if it meant letting other women get a little too close to him. You understand, you do, but oh god, it gets so fucking exhausting. You just wanted time for yourself to clear your head and process the whole thing, and potentially stabbing that nepo baby at least sixty times in your head.

Your arms are crossed. Arguing with him is the last thing you want to do right now, especially when the both of you barely escaped getting caught sneaking into his hotel room. All that for a fight to erupt between the both of you after a long and tense day on the track. You glare at him with a pout.

“I’m going home.”

Seonghwa whips his head so fucking fast, his eyes piercing right into you. He looks absolutely dumbfounded.

“Are you serious?”

You nod. “I’m sorry that I overreacted, but now, I’m not risking us getting caught when tomorrow’s the finals.”

Seonghwa wants to fucking pounce and cage you in. Before he even attempts to deflect your words, you cut him off-

“-and especially when you’re not the one dating someone who needs to keep a relationship a secret.” You sigh. “Please get some rest, Hwa.”

You pull the hotel door open, and leave promptly. Seonghwa stands there, his brows furrowed as frustration bleeds into him. He wants to so badly chase after you, but he knows you wouldn’t let him, not when there could be a chance to risk getting caught by anyone from his team.

As the cab pulls away further from the hotel, your phone is spammed by Seonghwa, and he’s explaining himself. You purse your lips, reading over his texts, but you only decide to reply a curt reiteration of what you told him earlier at his hotel room, and a “love you”, before unlocking your door to finally wash up.

A ping of guilt courses through you—you know you shouldn’t misunderstand or be jealous, but if anything, it was but how it made you feel, and it wasn’t pretty. You didn’t mean to show a perturbed expression when his eyes glanced at you after he barely managed to shake his little fan girl off him, but it was just automatic. And if anything, Seonghwa is just as possessive as you are, if not worse, especially when he sent death glares to your direction when another male had approached you, and periodically touched you up on your arms, which kind of caused the argument to even start in the first place.

Your eyes flutter close, exhausted, as sleep drags you in deeper, the last thing in your mind being Seonghwa.

The morning sun leaks through the windows of Seonghwa’s room. He’s already up, albeit half awake, getting ready for another whole day of racing. His mind was set on going all out for the finals, but something still remains at the back of his mind, and he doesn’t want to push it away. He thinks to himself, he wants to do it for you.

You only send Seonghwa a short text of encouragement, and he doesn’t reply. Then again, he is wrapped up with interviews over interviews, training and the finale would only start when dusk sets. You don a body con dress, paired with one of Seonghwa’s racer jackets you stole, might as well surprise him a little bit.

On the cab to the event, Seonghwa’s gorgeous face is plastered all over the Grand Prix news, as one of the rising stars. He looks absolutely stunning, no doubt, and it gets your heart racing too because you cannot believe he’s yours.

You take a seat amongst the noisy crowd around you. The atmosphere was getting really riled up, especially when the racers all appear on the big screen as they walk back stage to their cars. Your eyes are glued to the screen as Seonghwa appears in his racing gear, and he winks at the camera, a slew of fangirl screams burst around you, and you cover your mouth to suppress a giggle. All the hard feelings the night before faded off, and you heart felt full yet anxious for Seonghwa.

It takes awhile for the warm up and safety check to be cleared, but before you knew it, the checkered flags are raised and lights turned green, cheers roar across the tracks as the loud screeches of the cars overpower them.

Throughout the laps, Seonghwa falls in between 3rd and 4th place, you bite your lip, praying that he’s able to catch up. As the laps close in to its final rounds, Seonghwa slowly climbs up the position to first, and he maintains, amazingly. The night continues to burn with anticipation as the final lap commences, with Seonghwa neck to neck with another racer, switching between first and second.

The final corner becomes the make or break—as Seonghwa drifts, effectively overtaking just slightly before fully taking the spot for first.

And he speeds into the finishing line, winning championship.

You jump from your seat, your fingers clasped from the tension as the announcer is proclaiming Seonghwa’s win, and the screen flashes his winning race in slow motion. Your heart is pounding in your ears as the screams are blocked out. You are so proud that nothing leaves your lips as you fight the tears from falling as you clap. The screen flickers to the car cam, and you see Seonghwa pumping his fist in victory as he rides through another victory lap.

The barricade has fans screaming Seonghwa’s name as he leaves the car and pulls his helmet off. He looks so fucking amazing even when he’s sweaty, and you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat. You decide not to squeeze with the fans near the barricade, opting to stand further away.

Well, now where does this relationship go? He’ll probably be even further from you now.

A huge group of reporters swarm him, and he looks overwhelmed, that is until his eyes scan the crowd and lands on you, just when you’re ready to turn to leave.

Seonghwa’s heart skips a beat, his eyes are only tunnelling you as he pushes past the crowd, jumping past the barricade to where you are. You have a small smile on your face because you know he deserves all of this.

A tight grip on your hand halts you in your tracks, shocking you, as you turn around with wide and confused eyes. He pulls his goggles off. Before you could even process it, Seonghwa has his jacket that you’re wearing in his fist as his hands travel up cup your jaw—and he pulls you in for a deep kiss.

Your eyes shut as the kiss scatters fireworks beneath your eyelids, with Seonghwa’s lips right pressing against yours. Your mind is fuzzy, as your ears blocks out the loud screams of his fans. He pulls back after what feels like an eternity, before bowing politely at the group of fans and reporters in front of him as he leads you away.

From the circuit track to his hotel room, he never once let go of your hand, probably only gripping it tighter the closer he got to his room. He doesn’t say a damn thing either, probably because he still has the adrenaline pumping in his veins. Nonetheless, you still can’t tell what he’s thinking, and you’re wondering if he’s still upset.

At least not until the moment the door closes behind you.

Because he turns his heels right at you as devours your lips, not letting go at all, even as peels off his jacket, then yours.

He finally pulls back, giving you a breather. His eyes look absolutely wild as he tugs his jacket off you, exposing the way your dress hugs your curves, and his breathing becomes heavier.

“Fuckin hell. You don’t know how much it drives me insane when you’re wearing my jacket over something fuckin slutty like this. Fuck,” he groans, kicking his shoes off. You stare at him breathlessly as you remove your shoes as well, but your gaze never leaving how Seonghwa looks so fucking good with a compression shirt on—the way it hugs his biceps, the way it pulls taut against his chest and abdomen, the gorgeous bounce of his fucking tits every time he shifts his arms. He doesn’t remove his top before pulling you right back into his arms, his hands snaking up to grab your braless tits, which makes him groan again.

“Fuck, you’re not even wearing a bra. Are you fucking kidding me?” His erection presses hard against your thigh, and you’re working through your brain to find and answer amidst being trapped by pleasure. “And where did you think you were running to, looking like that?”

“N-nowhere! I thought you’d be caught up with the report-“ he cuts you off with another hungry kiss. God, he’s so desperate that you can’t help feel the heat pool between your legs. It doesn’t help that he had pulled your dress down past your chest, and his hands are all over your tits, sending sparks down your your spine, right to your pussy. Seonghwa pulls away once more, licking the string of spit that connected the both of you.

Seonghwa hums. “Mmm. Shouldn’t have asked. I’d still fuck you dumb anyway.” Your grip on his arm tightens. His fingers snake under your dress, tugging on your panties as he pulls the pair down, and pockets the pair of panties. The wet patch of slick doesn’t go unnoticed by him. His gaze locks onto yours as he makes sure you watch him cover his fingers with spit before his fingers head south. His fingers meet your slick that covered your cunt and scoffs.

“You’re already so fucking wet already”. He doesn’t give you a chance to answer as his fingers begin rubbing your clit. You lean forward and sigh as you use his shoulder to lean your head on. He lets you for a moment, adoring the way you’re beginning to squirm underneath him. Then he’s grabbing your waist and then dumping you right on the couch, pushing your legs open for him. Your cunt glistens with slick right for him, and Seonghwa is more than ready to dive in, giving a lick before fully immersing his tongue right into your sex, flicking his tongue against your clit, his hands squeezing your thighs. Your fingers are tangled in his hair and your head is thrown back as you tug his slicked back hair. If you weren’t seeing stars, you’d be seeing the fucking heavens.

Seonghwa hits a pace where you’re beginning to see white spots beneath your eyelids and the knot tugs hard in your stomach. Your thighs contract immediately, but Seonghwa keeps them apart, because he knows that’s the sweet spot. He knows it makes you tingle and it gets him so fucking excited. His tongue works even quicker on your clit and your orgasm builds so fucking quick and your whines climb up in octave, music to Seonghwa’s ears.

“There, there. Oh fuck. I’m cumming. Oh my fucking god”, leaving your lips like a mantra, alongside more whines of his name as your orgasm tingles through your body in waves. His tongue presses against your clit and he sucks on your clit, causing you to jolt, tears already streaking from the overstimulation. Seonghwa’s moaning in your wet cunt, making sure he devours every part of your orgasm as his ego inflates. A broken cry leaves your lips as you release his locks, your hands slumping against the couch. Seonghwa presses a wet kiss against your cunt with a smile. He wipes his lips with the back of his hand as he towers over you, his erection staining his pants already. Oh god, you love the way your arousal is all over his plump lips nonetheless. He was made for eating you out. He leans in for another ravenous kiss—and he swears he can never get enough of it. Before you realise it, your dress is pulled back up past your tits.

His fingers gently intertwine with yours as he pulls you up, and leads you to-

“The balcony?” You question, your heart hammering in your chest. Seonghwa cracks a smile as he leans in.

“Yeah. I wanna show the world my girl. I’ll fuck you so good that I’ll make sure the world knows.”

“But-“

“It’ll be fine. I’m serious. We’re so high up and we’re clothed, well kind of ”, he comforts. You bite your lip, because fuck, it was definitely exhilarating to be fucked on the balcony. You wanted the world to know that he’s yours too and the thought of it only heats you up even more.

He leads you the beach chair at the side, where he makes you sit and hang your legs on either side of the arm rests, and he’s about to remove his compression top but your hands stop his before you realise it. He looks at you, concern flashes over his face for brief second.

“Fuck me with your racer gear on.”, you blurt out, curling your fingers against the taut fabric. Seonghwa’s expression immediately switches over to one of a smirk. “What have you been fantasising about, darling?” He pokes, looming over you with a cocky smile.

You can’t escape, the only thing that does is a small whimper. Seonghwa doesn’t push for an answer, because he’s busy yanking his pants down past his thighs, and his cock springs out, hitting his lower abdomen. He sighs as he gives his fat cock a couple of pumps while looking at you with your legs spread wide open for him, your pussy just salivating at the thought of him pounding into you into the next week.

He lines himself to your entrance and doesn’t warn you before he enters, and a squeal leaves your lips, then a soft cry as he pushes more inches into you—every inch going thicker and thicker as he goes down to the base, until he’s snug in your cunt.

“That’s my good girl. Warm and wet, just how I like it”, he whispers into your ears, as he strokes your thighs gently. More sobs leave you, your fingers pressing onto Seonghwa’s arms.

Just when you thought you couldn’t fit any more of Seonghwa, the sudden thought of him right now, fucking you in his uniform somehow swallowed more of his cock, earning you the most gorgeous moan from Seonghwa as his eyes roll back and his eyebrows scrunched.

“Baby-fuck!-just what are you thinking about? Squeezing me like this? Oh god”, his knuckles are whitening from his grip on the arm rest. He pulls out before starting a pace to fuck you with, and soon enough it’s only the sounds of skin slapping, both of your moans and the feeling of Seonghwa’s cock just pounding right into the perfect angle of your cunt that exists in this damn universe. You wouldn’t ask for more.

Your brain was becoming pulp, only soft sobs every time Seonghwa’s balls deep into you. You could only focus on how his biceps tensed against the fabric as his tits fucking bounced every time his slams his cock into you—which you definitely see it too—the way his pants hang just at his lower thighs, and his cock is just disappearing into your pussy, drawing out squelching sounds that were borderline obscene. Drops of sweat splatter onto your dress as he leans in to rest his forehead onto yours.

“So good. So fucking good to be inside you like this”, he curses, trying to not the feeling of his orgasm overpower him. As you were gradually losing yourself to the pleasure, he suddenly pulls back completely, and instructs you to face the night scenery with your ass out. He crumpled your dress to your waist, and his cock enters you again, causing you to draw a sharp breath. He doesn’t let you adjust—he just starts fucking you raw like that, leaving your mouth agape and eyes blown out from the pleasure.

He’s able to reach even deeper part of your pussy now, and he makes sure you fucking cry for him. “H-Hwa!”, you try to speak in between sobs. “Oh god, oh god. I can’t. It’s so deep.” Your hands barely have the strength to hold onto the rails as he is railing you from behind.

“That’s my pussy. Milk me dry baby”, Seonghwa grunts, his fucking becoming more erratic, admiring the way your ass bounces off his cock so naturally. “I’m cumming all the way in baby. Be a good girl and take it, yeah?”

And a drawn out moan fills your ears as his cum floods your abused hole, and you cry out as your second orgasm hits you, clenching his cock even more. A loud slap reverberates into the night as his hand lands on your ass, causing you to flinch and squeal.

“That’s it, baby. Oh, you’re such a good girl”, he hums, holding your hips as far as his cock would let him drive into you, letting cum dribble down your inner thighs. He pulls out slowly, admiring the way your cunt convulses, small loads of his cum and yours leak out of you. You release your grip from the railings and fall right into his arms, as he plants a loving kiss on your temple before whispering,

“I promise you’re the only one for me, baby.”

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Every time I learn something new about Batman: War Games I lose my mind a little bit more cause just, just fuckin, look okay so here's the thing:

Stephanie Brown tries to implement a contingency plan of Bruce's just after he fires her from being Robin and because of that gets tortured to (almost) death and no one knows she survived.

THIS STORY RUNS IN THE NEWS:

So, you know, anyone who might be paying even half a fucking ounce of attention to news about ROBINS would definitely absolutely notice this!!!

And then very very soon afterwards Jason comes back and specifically targets Black Mask to ruin the criminal empire he tortured Stephanie to get

As a way to torment Bruce about the fact that he doesn't take care of the nastiest criminals and they continue killing people

And how Jason should have been the last to die

and SOMEHOW

these two things are in no way related and Jason has nothing to do with or say about Stephanie Brown, fellow Robin, fellow martyred soldier, fellow child dead due to Bruce related villains.

HOLY DEAD SIDEKICKS BATMAN, DO YOU COMPREHEND THE MAGNITUDE OF MISSED OPPORTUNITIES HERE????

please walk with me down a timeline in which:

Lost Days Jason at first just tries to go after the Joker and can't because who he's really mad at is Bruce.

Then he sees Who Really Killed Stephanie Brown and the utter horror of another Robin dying on Bruce's watch (not just dying, but tortured to death!) is what convinces him to try to straight up kill Bruce via car bomb

Roman Sionis is no longer merely a tool against Batman, but another figure to demand vengeance be brought upon, another attempt to give Bruce a chance to right his wrongs and do what needs to be done

The confrontation with him and the Joker being all the more tragic due to how obvious Bruce's answer would have to be once Jason knows Bruce isn't going to avenge Stephanie either

Does Jason, once he escapes the rubble after UtRH is over, kill Black Mask anyways? Does he decide to avenge her himself? Or does he think that she too would demand that of Bruce, and find his death by a different hand unsatisfactory?

If he doesn't kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back, I feel confident he approaches her, tries to reach out to the other dead Robin, almost certainly makes the offer now that he can ask her. Does she take him up on it, gaining an ally and slipping into a far darker role? Does she instead refuse, either appealing to forgiveness or far more interestingly refusing both vengeance and forgiveness? How would Jason handle a refusal, which I gut instinct feel is more likely?

If he does kill Black Mask, then when Steph is back Jason drops his corpse at her feet like a loving housecat with a dead lizard and she has to grapple with her feelings about having someone really and truly avenge her!!! Like how DO you react to someone who you have been warned is wildly dangerous and mentally unstable coming up to you and saying, "I'm glad you're back, like me. I'm sorry you're back, like me. I made sure you could rest knowing he was dead, because I know what it feels like."

Like no matter how each character reacted to this happening there would be so much high stakes emotional shit to explore with both of them!! Revenge I feel like is such a pivotal thing for both characters, they mirror each other in so so many ways, they could be really interesting together if DC would just fucking let them!!!

Jason had a criminal father who he missed and wanted to avenge. Stephanie had a criminal father who she wanted vengeance on.

Jason started off as a fairly gentle soul who progressively became more violent and more hopeless as he was exposed to genuine horrors during his time as Robin. Stephanie starts off violent, angry and rash and finds her own courage and hope through her time as a crime fighter despite of the horrors she's been through.

Jason went to Africa and died there after Bruce failed to save him. Stephanie was taken to Africa via a fake death in order to save her from Bruce and the vigilante lifestyle.

I just...

There's just...

There's SO MUCH HERE I am genuinely fucking confused as to how this is not all deliberate?? And it's all just left on the cutting room floor because for no reason apparent to me they all just decided Stephanie and Jason were not gonna interact!

AAGHHHH!

[quill-is-brainstorming]

I've just re-read the short lived duel that Aeneas and Achilles have in Book 20 of the Iliad and it's actually the most hilarious fucking thing.

So it starts out with Apollo disguising himself as Lycaon, one of Priam's many sons, and telling to have a go at Achilles. Keep in mind that this is post-Patroclus Achilles. Aka: berserk Achilles. Aka: so fucking mad he would fight a literal river Achilles.

Aeneas, who is capable of critical thinking, says he doubts he can actually take him on. He also references a time when he was herding cattle on Mount Ida and Achilles ambushed him, adding that the only reason he survived then was because Zeus gave him enough strength to book it (cracking up the official times that he's been saved by a god from certain death to 3, you go dude!).

However, after a bit of back and forth and a ton of hyping up on Apollo's part, Aeneas decides to try anyway.

Like, what could possibly go wrong?

Achilles notices Aeneas charging at him and he begins to taunt him. It's something among the lines of: "I'm sorry, are you, background trojan character #61, actually gonna try and beat me? And then what? Do you think that Priam will reward you in some way? Maybe making you king after him? Well it's BULLSHIT, because Priam fucked so much that your chances of succeeding him are basically 0. Ahah. Loser."

Now, you'd think that maybe Aeneas got enraged at the comment and attacked him, or maybe he even got scared and backed down, but NOPE. What does Aeneas do?

Well, first of all, he insults Achilles' insults, comparing his bickering to that of a child. Literally, "I heard third graders do better than that." And then he decides to list his and Hector's entire fucking family tree.

You know that part of the Bible that's like "this guy sired this other guy, and this other guy sired yet another guy" and so on? It's basically that.

So after he's done with all that, Aeneas states that while he'd love to have a battle of insults with Achilles, because according to him he's actually very good at insulting people (his words, not mine), they should probably throw hands now. Achilles agrees.

The duel is shortlived and Aeneas gets his ass handed to him. Badly. As expected. And he's about die when ✨️POV shift✨️ we're not on Olympus where Poseidon, Hera and Athena are watching this absolute train wreck go down.

Poseidon, pitying Aeneas, suddenly goes on a rant. It's something among the lines of: "come on guys, look at him, he's just a little guy! He literally has no stakes in this war, he doesn't deserve to die here! He even gives us lots of gifts and sacrifices, he's literally such a nice guy. How can we do this to him!?

...oh and also he's part of some prophecy, Zeus would get mad if he died."

The fact that the way it's worded makes it sound like Aeneas being part of a literal prophecy is an afterthought to him absolutely floors me, Poseidon is literally just attached to a random dude that's fighting on the opposite side to his because he thinks he's nice.

After all that Hera is pretty unimpressed and states that she really doesn't care if our man lives or dies as neither her or Athena have ever saved a Trojan from death, she however adds that Poseidon is free to do whatever he wants.

The literal moment Hera stops talking, Poseidon lunges down from Olympus and onto the battlefield to look for the two combatants. When he does, he saves Aeneas like only he can do.

You know how when Diomedes first tries to kill Aeneas, Aphrodite gently folds her hands around him to shield him? There's none of that here. Poseidon just runs up to him and literally flings the motherfucker.

It literally says that he flies "high in the air". It's like a Looney Toons sketch.

So Aeneas lands and, while he's obviously a bit dazed, Poseidon proceeds to call him a madman and essentially tells him to never do something stupid like that again and just wait until Achilles is dead, then he'll be able to murder Achaeans to his heart's content. Aeneas is fine with that.

Achilles, who just saw his opponent just get yeeted into the fucking sky, just shrugs and goes "welp, guess that guy's off limits, I'm gonna go kill someone else now I guess lol".

This entire scene is pure fucking gold and the fact that I've literally never seen anyone talk about it just breaks my heart.

[someiicecube]

I had this post sitting in my drafts for a while and I was suddenly reminded of it haha. 

Anyway, we all know this line from the main character synopsis, right? 

Only humans?

Is this purposeful on the writer's part to specifically mention the curse can only affect humans? Or are humans the only creatures mentioned because that's all the main character has had the chance to... curse with their touch?

Can the curse affect monsters?

Currently, we can't know one way or the other. 

Even if we did touch Leander, bare hand and all, it's Leander. The main character is under the impression that, because he's such a strong and powerful mage recommended to us by the mysterious doctor Kuras himself, it's just something he can do apparently—  although, we as the players know that's not all there is to it... just what is it? Is it part of his supposed monsterous-ness? Does he really know a spell that can protect against our curse? What's Leander's Jungle Juice really made out of? We can't tell yet...

Chosing Leander in this context is such a strategical plot point because he cannot answer our initial question. Is Leander not affected because he cast his little protection spell? Or is Leander not affected because he is/has become a monster?

However, we still can assume that the main character doesn't have full knowledge on what they are capable of with their curse— ya' know, probably being mostly surrounded by humans and such. So, the idea of touching even a monster is probably not a theory anyone wants to test (unless you're a mage, then please do it on some random monster and not the LIs for funzies... unless you want to).

Could this be a seed the writers are planting? Maybe, maybe not. But leaving the question unaswered (by Leander), again, makes the player and main character cautious by nature.

But what if they did slip up?

What if they slipped up and it happened on accident? 

Your bare fist colliding into Ais' chest, skin-on-skin but still a solid blow. Your hand desperately reaching out for Kuras' own, just wanting to feel his warmth once more only for a moment. Your palm sweeping against Vere's shoulder, pushing him away, your skin brushing along the thin translucent fabric. Or your fingers digging into Mhin's wrist as their dagger hovers right above you, their pulse hard against your uncovered touch.

It's startling. It's something you didn't mean to do. Fear grips you immediately; dread rises as your stomach falls. You are as quick to let go of them as your eyes are to look them in the eye and...

Nothing.

While, it wouldn't come as a shock to either Vere or Ais. Kuras, who the main character wouldn't know is an angel at this point, and Mhin are another eyebrow raiser for sure. It didn't affect them, when you know it should. If it doesn't affect them... that would only make the MC raise many more questions about Leander in turn. Ah, what a dramatic way to reveal the fact that the person you fancy is a monster.

Other notes and thoughts:

While, yes, an interesting idea to think about. I'm torn between wanting the monsters to be immune and 'fuck it, this curse affects everyone, even your pet rock ain't safe'. I can't help but feel this idea also lowers the stakes of the MC's curse... if done wrong.

Let's say this, the curse doesn't have an effect on monsters, right? But for each monsterous LI there will be a catch. Say, Vere, for example; a monster who lusts for power beyond him... having a human like yourself with such a deadly curse, well, who's to say it wouldn't give him a few ideas on how to use you it. What? You're still planning on finding a cure? Oh no, but you have him now, don't you? Why need a cure when you have him, your curse, and your soon-to-be mindless worshippers at your feet?

(Won't lie writing some of Vere's points made me think of Leander, but that's manipulation for you)

Or think Kuras, a doctor, an angel who passed through the shroud to watch over humanity. How would Kuras feel if the person he's grown so close to decides their curse isn't worth getting rid of now that you have him— can't you see the danger in yourself anymore?

Or try with, like some previous theories once said for us touching Leander: it doesn't affect him now... but eventually he will devolve into madness like the rest of everyone. But don't just apply that to Leander, now think of everyone else. Imagine finally finding someone you can touch without consequences. It's something that gets your blood rushing and heart pounting with a feeling your haven't felt in a while! However... the more and more you do so, you've noticed they've changed. They're more irritated, they've been having more headaches than normal, and their once beautiful smile twists into something dreadfully familiar. Congratulations, you've made your beloved mad with love! Here's the bad ending! Yipee!

Really, in the end it's all a balancing act, the stake were there and you don't want to take them away before the climax. If you do, place something else in its steed— something to raise them even further than what was initially thought possible.

[the-californicationist]

Sending hugs as always!!!! Soooo, another request with no rush intended. Not sure if you are familiar with “Cool.” Gwen Stefani song and video. Love lost but no love lost. Rainy days and nights. He sees you with your “new” love. All the memories come rushing back, and he has to have you!!!! Dripping wet in his fit!! Maybe he tries to sneak away with you?! You’re the genius!! Still loving your Fluff and Stories on AO3. Thanks always!! ❤️💜

hey babe!! love this ask. sorry for the wait! <3 <3 trying to get out chapter 2 of bear price before the weekend, but this one just wouldn't leave my WIP station, so i had to get it done. very cool premise. hope this comes close to what you wanted!!

Cloudy, with a Chance

John Price was not having a good day. He’d had worse days, to be sure, but as he trudged through yet another puddle, soaked through with this torrential rain, freezing to his bones, he thought it had turned out pretty bloody bad. 

For one, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. Your laugh and the stuttering hello of your voicemail greeting were taunting him like a vicious demon, and every time he brought himself to pleasure, it was your sweet moans that flooded through his mind. He’d also come back from the field to find his truck broken into and his storage unit payment almost three months overdue. Getting all of his belongings back in order had been a real fucking drag. None of this would’ve happened if you were still there.

But, you weren’t. 

You’d left him before his last tour, and that was almost six months ago. He could still hear your complaints in his mind, clear and orderly, like a list of commandments:

I’m tired of being left alone, John!

I can’t keep wondering if every phone call is about to tell me you’ve died.

You promised you’d be here for me, and you’re not. 

I’m not stitching up another bullet hole. I can’t.

How much more of yourself are you going to give them? They don’t deserve you.

What if I need you? 

It had been a rough tour. He’d called you a few times, and when you’d answered, the guilt rent through his heart like a stake. 

“John? What’s happened? Are you alright?”

“Aye, I’m fine. Lads are fine. Just… I needed to hear your voice.”

“It’s alright, John. I’m here.”

And you had been. You were still there for him. Sometimes, when he got your voicemail, he thought he’d reached the end of your generosity, but that wasn’t the hardest part. No, the worst thing was coming home to empty drawers and his toothbrush, lonely in its glass, all by itself. 

As he sheltered under the awning of a Nero’s coffee shop, he tried to get his bearings, deciding whether or not to wait out the storm. It was only by chance that he glanced into the window at Capello’s, and it was only by chance that the waiter had sat you and your date in the window seat. 

His breath caught in his chest when he realized it was you, and his shock turned from yearning to sadness to rage in the blink of an eye. Who was that muppet with his bloody fuckin’ hands all over you? You were his. 

Except you weren’t his. Not anymore. 

No, fuck that. 

He marched across the street, paying no mind to the honking traffic. A brief argument with the maître d' and he was through to the dining room. 

“John?” Your voice had an edge of panic, and your eyes were focused on him as he dripped his way across the carpet.

In fact, all eyes were on him, but he didn’t care. 

Your date looked more than a little put out, but when he started to stand up, Price grabbed his shoulder with no small amount of cruelty and shoved him back into his seat. 

“What’re you doin’ here, love? You fuckin’ hate Capello’s.”

“I don’t…” You looked around, lowering your voice, trying to get him to match your volume, “I’m on a date, Jonathan.”

“Don’t be stupid. You need to come home. I can’t do this without you. I can’t do anything without you, and I don’t care who bloody knows it. I need you, love. Please.”

“You can’t keep doing this! I deserve to have someone who is there for me when I need them to be,” you raised your voice again, frustrated by his words. 

Good. He liked it when you got all worked up.

“And you think this muppet can do more than me? Please.”

John rolled his eyes. The muppet tried to protest, moving to stand up again, only to be shoved back into position. 

You took a deep breath, and you tried not to notice just how small your date was compared to your ex-boyfriend. John towered over him, and his thigh was more than twice the size of this guy’s bicep. Seeing John’s huge hand covering this man’s frail-looking shoulder kind of gave you the ick for your date. 

You also tried to ignore your captain’s field-hardened body. He always came home so much more muscular, and so much larger, than he looked when he left. He was still soaking wet from the rain, drenched in his hoodie and tac-jacket. His canvas pants clung to his skin, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. But, that didn’t matter. You were imagining it anyway. 

What you couldn’t ignore was that cold, blue hunger in his eyes. His beard had grown out, and the scruff combined with his long hair, all raked back under that disgusting boonie hat, were doing things to you that made you clench your legs together, becoming acutely aware of how every piece of fabric felt as it touched your body, and you knew exactly how it would feel when he ripped it off of you. 

“Uh, hey. Listen, mate —” The date tried to protest weakly. 

“Shut up,” you and John spat at your date at the same time. 

John smiled at that, warming himself in your fire,

“C’mon, love. We’re leaving.”

He tossed a few wet hundred pound notes down on the table, not giving a shit if it was enough or not, and lifted the open bottle of wine from the ice bucket. His gaze fell to your date for a fleeting second, and he said, 

“Cheers, mate.”

His hand grabbed yours and helped you from your seat, leading you outside. Once he had you back in your coat, he took you out into the rain, keeping his warm palm planted on the small of your back, and he didn’t say one single word to you until you were back in the foyer of his flat, dripping onto the marble tiles, panting and breathless in the quiet entrance, listening to his keys jingle in the lock. 

“Let’s get you dry, love. Then,” he was breathless from the rain and from something else, “We’ll get your things. Put them back where they go, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly, shivering from the cold,

“Yeah. Okay, John.”

“Get inside, love. That a new dress?”

“Mmhm,” you let him towel you dry in the entrance, feeling how strong he was even though you knew he was trying to be gentle with you. 

“Take it off.”

His voice had a tone that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on its end. You followed his command almost immediately, feeling your body rush with shock and excitement. 

John caught you by your arms and shoved you against the wall in the foyer, his eyes bearing down into you with a fiery intensity you’d never seen. He spoke through his teeth, gravelly and dark, full of warning,

“You belong here with me. I don’t want any more dates. I want you to be mine, and I bloody well want to be yours. Let me.”

“Alright, John,” you whispered, holding your breath, nervous and waiting.

“Don’t,” he pressed his forehead against yours like he had a fever, “Don’t say yes unless you mean it, love.”

You pushed his head back with yours just enough to reach his cheek. You kissed it as softly as you could, moving down his jaw and onto his neck, feeling his blood rush through his veins warming his skin beneath your lips. 

His hands fell away from your arms and you grabbed his hands, holding them in yours, still speaking to him in a low whisper, not wanting to break his spell,

“I’m yours, John. You’re all I have thought about for six months, and I don’t want to be without you. I don’t know what I was saying…”

He grabbed you on either side of your face and kissed you deeply, pushing his body into yours, grinding his wet clothes into you, and not caring a bit about the puddle on the floor,

“Shh. You’re mine. That’s all I need to hear.”

You looked into each others’ eyes and got lost for a moment. The blues of his irises were icy and sharp, tracking your every movement, your every breath. His sudden command pulled you out of your trance, 

“Take off your dress.”

John watched you as you slipped the straps off your shoulders, revealing your bare breasts to him, your nipples pebbled from the cold, damp cloth. It fell, cascading down your body, showing off the black lace panties you wore underneath. Your strappy heels kicked the gown away from you, and you squirmed under his scrutiny,

“Were you gonna show him these?” John’s fingertips grazed the panties right above your clit, making little petting strokes with the back of his hand. 

“Yeah,” you lifted your chin, challenging him, willing to face his jealous wrath. 

“Yeah?” John growled, taking your bait, fisting your dripping hair in his hand and forcing your head back, baring your smooth neck to him, “On a first date? You must have been hungry for it, love.” He taunted you, touching your lips through the lace. 

“Second date…” You flashed your eyes up at him, knowing he would snarl, and he did. 

“Second… Mm,” John grabbed the panties by the front fabric and ripped them from your hips with one cruel tug. You gasped, and he caught your mouth with his, kissing you as his fingers found a different kind of wetness pooling between your legs, “My poor darling. You know he wouldn’t be enough for you. You’d have been so… fucking… disappointed...”

With every word of his last phrase, he thrust his fingers inside of you to their knuckle, lifting your body as he did so, his strength fully apparent. 

“Did you miss me?” He asked you quietly. All the anger was gone from his tone, and a somber desperation was back. 

“Yes, my love. I did,” you kissed him as sweetly as you could, telling him the truth. 

“Fuck,” he grimaced, “I missed you.”

Suddenly, you were airborne, lifted into his arms and being carried into the adjacent kitchen. He sat you on the counter, shoving stacks of unread mail and keys onto the floor. You helped him strip off his wet clothes, pulling his hoodie and his jacket from his back, watching with admiration as he tugged off his undershirt, revealing his damp, furry chest, all of his dark hair laying matted against his skin. He was tanned and burned from the desert sun in odd tan lines, proof of his work, and your hands felt his sculpted form with joy, exploring all of him with abandon. 

You knocked off his boonie hat and watched him rake his hair back again, trying to keep it out of his face. It was straight in the front, but it began to curl when it reached his ears, wild and unkempt. 

Then, you heard the buckle jingle, and that familiar tool of his fell from the open folds of his pants. It was just as you had dreamt it, heavy and large, throbbing and flushed, excited to see you. He dipped the head of it into your lips, rubbing himself back and forth through your wetness, making you moan. 

“Oh, fuck… There you are. My girl. Needed you. Fuck, I needed you.” He wasn’t talking to you. Not really. He was sort of lamenting aloud, lost in his selfish thrusting, slicking himself in the softness of your body, bumping your clit on the way up and teasing your hole on the way down. 

Finally, he positioned himself at your center, carefully aligned with your tight opening, and he commanded you once more, 

“Spread your legs for me. Show me. I wanna see you… that’s it. So damn pretty.”

“John, please…” You begged, touching yourself, trying to show him how ready you were. 

He chuckled, pressing just the tip of his head into you, making you writhe,

“Whose pussy is this?”

“Yours…” You whispered, feeling particularly naughty about this call and response. 

“Whose!” He got in your face, close enough to kiss you but holding himself back, his voice louder and more forceful. 

“Yours! It’s yours. Please, fuck me, John,” you pleaded, gasping from being so near to your release and not being able to reach it. 

“Mine,” he thrust himself into you and watched you fall apart, feeling you pulse around him uncontrollably, “My fuckin’ pussy. All mine.”

He found a rhythm, but it was punishing. You had orgasm after orgasm pulled from you cruelly. There was no lovemaking. He was claiming you. You were familiar with his need after his tour, especially if it had been particularly difficult, but six months of not knowing if he’d ever see you again had made him rabid. Each thrust was like the touch of a glowing brand, marking you as his, reminding you of where you found your pleasure. 

You were not in control, not anymore. Any of your goading or teasing was immediately quashed by his dominance. You were just  a mixture of screaming bliss and sopping, milking noises, made by his effort between your legs. 

Frustrated that he couldn’t fuck you deeper, he pulled you from the countertop and down onto the cold tile floor. You were crawling onto the soft kitchen mat on your hands and knees, trying to catch your bearings when you felt him position himself behind you.

He grabbed your hair and pulled you into a high arch, shoving his fat cock back into you, sighing with relief as he did so, praising you in muttered, grunting words. 

He began to slam himself back into you, somehow feeling harder and thicker than before, filling you up to your limit. 

“Fuck!” You moaned, “Fuck…”

“Is that what you needed, love? Hm?” He leaned his body over yours like a hound, whispering into your neck.

“Yes, yes, yes yes…” You could barely breathe. 

“Needed your man, didn’t ya?”

“Yes, please…” Whatever words came to mind, you said them. You didn’t care. You could barely put a coherent thought together much less a full sentence. 

“I’m gonna fuck you like this until you can’t even remember his goddamn name.”

You smiled, cock-drunk and high from your repeated pleasure, peeking at him over your shoulder,

“Whose name?”

He laughed like a demon, fucking you faster, chasing his end,

“That’s my girl.”

When he lost his steady, pumping rhythm, he began to let out a barking shout, and you felt his come begin to drip from his body and into yours, heating you up in your core. He pushed his cock through it, frothing it inside of you, letting it drip down his shaft and coat his hair. 

He fell out of you, sitting back on his knees, pulling you into his lap with his last ounce of strength, and leaned against the kitchen cabinets, legs spread, holding you to his chest. John was breathing hard, his eyes shut. You reached up and touched his bottom lip, earning your fingertips a soft kiss. 

John opened his eyes and looked down at you, holding you close, begging you,

“Don’t leave me, baby. Please. Don’t leave me alone.”

“I’m not going anywhere, John. I’m right here,” you told him, petting his chest in comforting strokes, breathing hard with him.

“Stay,” he whispered, so low you almost couldn’t hear him, “Please, stay.”

You kissed his neck and whispered back, 

“I’ll stay. Forever. I promise.”

Your tired captain pulled you tighter into him, leaning a sweaty cheek against your forehead, smiling slightly, finally at some kind of peace.

AO3 Link

[queenuchiha89]

*** NSFW ***

*** 18+ MINORS DNI!! ***

*** TW DARK CONTENT ***

⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

This story contains but is not limited to noncon, incest between siblings, verbal threats, and other subject matter that may not be suitable for some viewers. Reader discretion is STRONGLY advised!!

Part 7...

It had been a few days since Itachi, Y/N and Sasuke had a talk about the current situation his older siblings and for the most part everything has gone back to normal. However, mom and dad have started giving Y/N some strange looks at the change in her appearance, and Sasuke knew things were about to come to a headway. He decided this may be his one and only chance, so he would be taking it. Tonight.

It was around 1am, everyone sleeping peacefully in the Uchiha household... Except for Sasuke, who was sneaking down the hallway to his big sister's room. She lay asleep, peacefully under the blankets, as Sasuke entered and shut the door behind him, locking it. He quietly approached her bed, careful not to wake her until the right time. He was already fully hard and aching in his sweat pants for her. With one swift movement, he was on top of her, his hand over her mouth. "Shhhh- you wouldn't want anyone to wake up and see you like this would you Y/N??" Sasuke said with a wicked smirk. Y/N squirmed trying to push him off, but he easily restrained her arms. "Stop fighting me... Or I swear I use these..." Sasuke threatened as he activated his sharingan momentarily. She shook her head no, closing her eyes tightly. "Then sit still and let me have you! All this moving is bad for the baby sis..." He said as he licked the slide of her neck.

Y/N squirmed under her little brother, but it was no use, and she whimpered as Sasuke forced his cock deep inside his big sis. "Fuuuuck, you feel so good. I see why big brother is so infatuated with you..." Sasuke moaned as he began to thrust deep and hard inside her sensitive pussy, and she whined into his hand cupped over her mouth. Sasuke took one of her tits into his free hand, massaging it squeezing her nipple, and she grunted. She hated to admit it but, Sasuke's cock felt amazing and she was going to cum against her will. Y/N shook as as her walls pulsed around her little brother's veiny cock, and with a few final erratic thrusts, he shot his potent Uchiha cum deep inside her pussy. "that's it big sis, take every drop of your little brother's cum" Sasuke growled as he drained his balls inside of her.

Sasuke got off of her, but not before threatening her. "Remember Y/N, we all have a stake in this now. If you tell anyone about what I did to you.... We'll all be fucked. Not they would believe you anyway... You let big brother knock you up. They would think that YOU came into ME." He said, his words cold and vicious, but he was right. No one would believe her after the truth got out about her being pregnant with their older brother's baby. She said nothing as she watched her little brother coldly leave the room. She hated herself for cumming.... But she had to admit to herself... Sasuke felt amazing. In disbelief, and shock she could think of nothing else to do other than make her way into Itachi's room. She entered and crawled into bed with him, sliding her arm around his waist. She kissed his neck softly. "Wake up Itachi, I need you..."

A.N: this is fckin crazy y'all. 😂 Seriously though, how do we want this to go from here?? Poor mom and dad are going to flip when the truth comes out. 😩☠️

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-Lee Minho

No one says 'no' to a God. That's what you've always been taught. But maybe, no one's just ever really had the chance. or A retelling of Poseidon and Amphitrite, if it were a little bit more modern and a lot more geared toward those of us who are total sluts for enemies to lovers. This one's for you, babe.

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, Lee Minho, Minho, SKZ au, skz as greek gods series, lee know, minho x you, minho x reader, greek mythology, modern greek au, skz fluff, skz smut, skz angst, skz fic, skz fanfic, skz x you, skz x reader, femreader, y/n, enemies to lovers, greek gods, Poseidon

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Light Smut

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Spit as Lube, Virginal Sex

Soundtrack:

🌊 Euclid by Sleep Token 🐚 Bad Habits by Nerv

Title: Wave After Wave

"Oh my gods, he's literally the hottest man I've ever seen."

You glance up from gathering wood for the celebratory bonfire at your sister's uttered words, and follow her gaze to the man reclined by the roaring fire next to your father.

You can't quite make out his features from here-they're made wavy and indistinct by the heat of the flames-but you know he's handsome, incredibly so.

Why wouldn't he be? He's one of the fucking Big Three after all.

You say as much, scoffing under your breath with a slight smile in your besotted sister's direction.

"He's one of the major Gods, Thetis. Of course he's going to be incredibly good looking. They've been made to appeal to every single one of the five senses." You hit her ass with one of the sticks you carry, and she gives you a little glare with a pout of her lips. Your voice turns teasing. "You're no better around him than a pitiful human, weak for his charms and falling right into his traps."

She crosses her arms over her ample bosom and pouts some more, even as you shove some of the gathered wood into her waiting arms. "Well, can you blame me? We only ever see sailors here, or the minor gods, if we're lucky. But one of the Big Three?" She huffs, following after you, trying to balance the bundle of sticks as she hurries to catch up. She's slightly out of breath when she says under her breath to you, her eyes flickering back to the man beside your father once more, "And I would argue he's the best looking out of all the Big Three."

You shoot her a sharp look. "Don't let anyone hear you say that, Thetis. Father will have you punished for blasphemy."

"You cannot punish me for saying the truth." She rolls her big blue eyes, lined with long, dark lashes, and flips her blonde braid over her shoulder. Her round cherubic cheeks are pink from exertion, her red lips pursed into a perfect pout.

You'd be shocked if your father didn't do his damndest to secure Thetis the God's hand before he leaves here tonight.

You set your logs down beside the fire and catch your breath, brushing the bark from the front of your finely made dress as you glance at your younger sister once more.

"You'd better go and charm the man then, because I'm fairly certain Glauce has already staked her claim." You motion with your head to your sister, who is practically in the God's lap, her long dark hair twined around her fingers as she leans over to playfully whisper something in his ear, the seashells around her neck dipping between her bare breasts.

Thetis's eyes narrow and she pushes past you with a huff. "We'll see about that."

You watch her go with slight amusement, content to enjoy the games of tonight from afar.

You've never been interested in the Gods like your sisters, nor marriage, and you have every intention of living your life out on Naxos, dancing and remaining free for the eons.

Being tied down as a Big Three's wife, constantly scrutinized and judged, cheated on with mortals?

No fucking thank you.

You adjust one of the ornamental pins in your hair with a sigh, trying to stop it from digging into your scalp, and wish for the thousandth time that you could let your hair down.

The breeze off the sea is calling your name, and you itch to pull off this ornamental gown and untie your hair and dive into its welcoming, azure depths.

You crave the silence the deep brings.

"Daughter."

You turn at the sound of your father's call and see him approaching, his hands tucked behind his back.

You give a brief duck of your head in deference as he walks toward you, a dip of the knee to show your respect.

"Father."

He places a finger beneath your chin, guiding you back to your feet. "Rise, child. I have something I wish to discuss with you."

You wait patiently for him to continue, your gaze holding his. The breeze tugs at your skirt, twisting it around your legs, as if it's a silent invitation to follow it into the embrace of the sea.

Your father's lips lift into the hint of a smile as he strokes his hand down your cheek. "My beautiful eldest, the coveted rare pearl that adorns my crown. I always said you would be a blessing from the Gods, and I was right."

You cock your head, nodding slightly. "Thank you, father. I hope I have made you proud."

"You have, my child. You have." Your father sighs, and his eyes soften slightly as he takes you in. "As have your sisters." He glances out at the sea, his eyes following the rise and fall of the waves for a moment.

Finally, he says, "He has made a decision."

You watch him-the way his brow furrows in thought, the way his dark eyes reflect the blue of the sea-and then you reply back confidently with another duck of your head, "Thetis will make an excellent wife for him and a stunning Goddess of the Seas."

Your father meets your gaze once more, and there's something there now that unsettles you, his lips curving down seriously, his expression somber.

"It is not Thetis who has been chosen."

You stare at him, confused. "Who then? Glauce? Maera?"

You cannot imagine one of your younger vapid, vain sisters ever catching the God's attention, but stranger things have happened.

Something sad flickers across your father's face, and he reaches for your hand.

Your stomach drops at the expression.

"He has chosen you."

You feel as if you've just been barreled by the waves, thrown beneath the surface, crashed helpless over and over again against the sharp, jutting cliffs.

You can't seem to catch your breath.

You're drowning.

"What?"

Your father gives you a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Poseidon has chosen you."

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

Minho watches you for a moment before making his presence known, his body hidden in the shadow of the column.

This is one of his favorite versions of you-sitting beside the sea, your feet buried in the sand, your dress wet as it clings to your curves, hair down and free, tangled slightly from the salt water.

He likes to imagine this is how you looked as a child, roaming the beaches of Naxos, causing mischief, dancing barefoot into the night.

Now, you are his queen, and yet, he still sees that untameable girl in you, even till this day.

You laugh out loud and splash salt water back at one of the dolphins as it breaches near the shore, showering you with a wave of the sea, and Minho's mouth curves into an unbidden smile as he steps out from behind the pillar.

He approaches you quietly, content to watch you admire the dolphins as they breach and play, fins the color of smoke cutting through the turquoise water like butter on a warm day.

He'd known, the moment he had the mansion built, that the secret cove beneath that let him have free access to his beloved sand and sea would quickly become his favorite place to spend the time.

As soon as he'd met you, he'd known it would be your favored place of refuge as well.

You were similar in that, escaping to the sea when everything became a little bit too much.

You glance up as he approaches, giving him a smile that almost blinds him, and not for the first time, Minho can't quite believe that something so beautiful, so perfect, belongs to him.

He is much like the sea-turbulent and fickle, intimidating and dark, dangerous when provoked-and you have been the only one in eons of years that has dared swim below his surface to explore the depths beneath.

He finds himself grateful for that every single day.

He sits down in the sand behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you back against him. The salt water on your dress dampens his pants, but he can't bring himself to care, burying his nose in your hair that smells of sea and sand and sun, running his lips along the curve of your neck just to taste the salt on his tongue.

You give a little hum of approval at his touch and lean into him, and Minho chuckles.

Glancing out at the dolphins playing in the waves, Minho's lips pull up into an amused curve.

"And what have you taught your little pets today, sweetheart?"

You lean your head back against his shoulder and he admires the way your nose crinkles as you give him a teasing smile, arching a brow.

He lets a finger trace down your throat, playing with the seashell strands you wear around your neck, his cock immediately paying attention to the way they disappear between the valley of your breasts, your skin sparkling with the sea.

"Oh, you'll love this one." You chirp back, standing up as you wave to get the dolphins attention. You glance over your shoulder at him, grin turning wicked. "I've taught them to flip you off."

You raise your hand, and a few of the dolphins immediately use their tails to propel them above the waves, their sleek bodies upright as they wave their fins in tandem back at you.

Minho chuckles, standing up, his arms going around your waist once more, as he leans in to murmur against your ear, "I don't think your trick is quite as impressive as you think. They lack fingers."

You give a little shrug, and lean back against him, and there it is again, that devastating smile that leaves Minho feeling like he can't breathe, like he's just gone beneath the waves and can't resurface.

"Well, you have to use your imagination a little bit." You whisper back, expression cheeky, as you tilt your head to be able to kiss the line of his jaw.

"Oh?" Minho remarks in bemusement, his brow inching upward as he looks down at you in his arms. He takes a fingertip and traces slowly down the column of your throat, the skin he leaves in his wake shining with conjured droplets of sea water, shimmering in the afternoon sun. "I can think of a lot more things I'd rather use my imagination for right now, sweetheart."

He lets his finger dip between your breasts, and he doesn't miss the way you shiver at his touch.

His lips curve into the start of a smirk.

"Like imagining you out of all these clothes."

You pull out of his arms and turn to face him, walking backward slowly so that your feet disappear into the frothing waves of the sea, your gaze never leaving his.

Something mischievous comes across your features as you stare at him, standing knee deep in the water, your dress like a living creature wrapped around your legs, the dolphins frolicking against the sunset.

"That can be arranged." You tease him, arching a brow, as you slowly slide the dress down one of your shoulders, revealing a swath of perfect skin.

And without another word, Minho leaves the shore behind and joins you in the waves.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

It's clear that though he may have chosen you, he doesn't like you.

Not in the slightest.

The man can't even look at you as you pull up to the mansion bordering the sea, and you're grateful-not for the first time during the drive-that he'd left the Stingray's old fashioned top down so that instead of focusing on the oppressive silence between the two of you, you could hear nothing but the wind whipping in your ears, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

The hum of the car purrs to a stop as he parks in some sort of underground garage cut into the seaside cliffs, and you're not certain whether you should let yourself out or wait for his move.

He doesn't look at you, or seem in a hurry to leave the car, so you remain still, your hands folded in your lap, your eyes ahead.

Fuck, this is awkward.

What does one say to an all powerful God that has just taken them-unwillingly, you might add-from the only home and family they've ever known?

Fuck if you know.

You clear your throat, and decide that if he won't break the silence, you will.

"If I may-" You start to say, startled to a stop when he gets out of the car abruptly, not even bothering to look in your direction as he stands.

"You'll be shown to your room. You'll be expected for dinner every evening at 8 sharp. It's on the veranda overlooking the sea, your maid will show you where. Feel free to go where you will, just don't go alone."

It's like he's talking to the wall, his hand on the open door, his eyes on anything else but you.

You feel the anger from earlier bubble upward into your throat as you regard his obvious disdain.

You reach for your own doorhandle.

"You've brought me all the way from Naxos, and I know no one here. Certainly you're not just going to leave me alone on our first night together-"

"I have work to do." He says coldly, cutting you off, and without another glance, shuts his door, before stalking off toward the stairs that must lead up into the mansion above.

You stare after his retreating form in shock for a moment, before you growl beneath your breath and get out of the car, moving to open the trunk where your luggage is stowed.

"Fine." You hiss beneath your breath. "I'll see myself to my room then."

And in that very moment, you decide you will ask the Great God Poseidon, one of the Big Three, for nothing so long as you both shall live.

It's going to be one long fucking eternity.

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He doesn't like it.

He doesn't like how you make him feel unsettled, as if every inch of control he's ever struggled to gain in his own damned, immortal existence is thrown out the window as soon as you walk into the room.

He's had to claw his way here, to where he is now, in charge of his own life, in charge of his own sea, and he doesn't intend to lose that, not now or not ever, and definitely not because of a pair of fucking beautiful doe eyes.

He'd known it as soon as he saw you-dancing with your sisters on your father's little island-that he was never going to escape your grasp.

You hadn't even looked at him, for gods' sake, hadn't even given him a moment of your attention, and he was instantly bewitched.

And Minho did not bewitch easily.

And now, here you were, in his house, in his domain, soon to be in his bed, and he was absolutely fucking terrified of what that meant.

You were his, and he didn't know if he could fucking handle that.

"Fuck." He swears beneath his breath, running his hands through his hair in an agitated motion, his elbows resting on his knees as he sits, collapsed in the sand.

The night is muggy, the warm air heavy with the saltiness of sea water, and he stares at the dark crests of the waves, rising and falling like a giant being breathing peacefully in slumber.

His fingers find a shell in the sand next to him, and he hurls it into the waves, watching as it disappears beneath the surface in a ring of ripples.

The water is reflecting the stars of the night sky back to him on its surface, and it feels as if he's sitting in the middle of a constellation, but his head is no clearer than when he first left the mansion for the cove beneath.

His mind wanders to you-are you settling in for the night? Your perfect skin sliding between the silk of the sheets as you curl up in the middle of the large bed, alone?

He wonders, briefly, what your hair looks like when it's not ornamentally pinned, what you wear when you sleep, how your face looks crinkled and barely awake in the morning.

He wonders how it would feel to hear you say his name-not his name gifted by the mortals, but his given name-in a murmur against his skin, your perfect breasts free from the sheer material of your dress, your hands, or gods forbid, your lips, on his aching cock-

"Fuck." He swears again, more vehemently this time, and falls back against the cool sand, staring at the jagged rocks overhead.

He can't lose his cool every time he sees you, he's worked too damn hard to get where he's at, and he's a fucking god for hell's sake. He needs to pull it together and stop thinking with his dick.

It's going to be one long fucking eternity.

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"You know-" You remark offhandedly as you glance out over the sea, red from the setting sun. You can smell the salt in the air, courtesy of the Stingray's open top, and the warm air whips your hair as Minho speeds along the deserted oceanside highway.

Minho glances over at you, a slight curve of amusement to his lips, a silent signal for you to go on, as he maneuvers the sports car around a curve.

You let your fingers float outside the open window, weaving along in the breeze like a dolphin skimming and jumping through the waves.

"-I hear skinny dipping is even better at night."

Minho chuckles, the sound low beneath the rush of the wind. "Oh? Who told you that?"

You shrug, biting back a smile, as you admire the way the nail polish glints on your fingers in the rosy tint of the sun, the flash of the pearl on your ring finger.

"A little fish."

Minho gives you another amused look, but it's clearly exasperated, his brow arching. "You're not getting out of this party, you know."

You sigh and let your head fall back against the seat.

"Well fuck."

Minho chuckles again, and reaches over with his free hand to rest the warmth of his palm on your thigh, his other hand easily maneuvering the car through the twists and turns of the road.

He gives your thigh a little squeeze, and you glance down at his hand-the tan, smooth skin, the rise and fall of his knuckles, the perfectly trimmed nails.

Your eyes flick to his other hand on the wheel-the golden glint of his wedding band contrasting the strip of inlaid pearl that matches your own.

Your skin heats underneath his touch, even though the fabric of your dress acts as a barrier.

It's a thin, flimsy barrier at most.

"I promised Hyunjin we'd be there." Minho sighs regretfully, and you know he's dreading this soiree just as much as you are, even more so. "But I swear to you, sweetheart, after this, no more parties for another decade."

You give a little laugh and squeeze his hand. "I'm going to hold you to that, your highness."

Minho smiles, his gaze moving down to your hand resting over his own. His eyes catch on the wedding ring you wear, and he raises your hand to his lips, brushing a light, lingering kiss across your knuckles.

"I know you will."

Your gaze drifts back longingly to the sea, fingers still encased in the warmth of his own.

Minho gives your thigh another squeeze, and when you turn to look at him once more, he gives you a dangerous smirk, perfect teeth flashing and dark eyes glinting.

"However, skinny dipping is never off the table, sweetheart. So trust me when I say I'll be holding you to that too."

You grin back at him.

"I would expect nothing less from the God of the Seas."

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Dinners with Minho are unbearable.

You spend the majority of your time on the veranda watching the waves crest in watercolor beneath the setting sun, the sleek, almost apparition like forms of the dolphins darting in and out of the frothing foam.

He never talks, and you never ask.

It's easier to eat in silence and excuse yourself to your room for the rest of the night while your new husband disappears gods knows where to do gods knows what.

Tonight, the dolphins are especially playful, leaping and chittering to each other, and you find yourself watching them longingly, wishing you could be as free as they seem to be, bound to no one and nothing.

The sound of a fork scraping obnoxiously across a plate draws your attention back to the table, and Minho is watching you, his expression unreadable, fork held loosely in his hand, his empty plate before him.

You hold his gaze, refusing to back down, as you set your own fork down next to your barely touched food.

His features remain blank as he wipes his mouth with the linen of his napkin, the maid scurrying in to quickly clear his empty place.

You've never noticed, but his eyes are dark-dark and stormy like the sea at night-and they're uncharacteristically cold, no warmth lurking in their depths.

"Do you like them?" He asks suddenly, voice flat, almost uninterested, as he waves away another servant approaching with more wine in a decanter.

You stare at him, schooling your expression. "Like what?"

You know you're addressing him casually, you should watch yourself-he's your husband and a god-but you can't seem to bring yourself to care in the face of his aloofness.

He won't give you anything, so you won't give him anything either.

He lets his gaze scan your face, giving nothing away, then motions with a glance toward the sea below.

"The dolphins."

You give a little shrug and glance down at your food, scraping it around your plate. You have no appetite suddenly, not when you can feel Minho's gaze boring into your skull.

"They're beautiful. The freedom and joy they possess intrigues me."

"Then you can have them."

You jerk your gaze back up to his in surprise, your mouth dropping slightly open, but he's already pushed back from the table, no longer looking at you, as he motions for one of the maids to begin to clear the table.

"I have work to do. You may retire when you are ready." His voice is emotionless, and he doesn't spare you another glance, as he turns and strides away.

You watch him go, anger beginning to bubble in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth tastes of bile.

'Then you can have them.'

He thinks he can just give living creatures to another just like that? Like they're property? Like they're his to own? Like they do not already belong to the sea?

Fuck him.

You push back from the table angrily and fling your napkin on the ground.

If he thinks he can give and take that which is not his, was never his, so easily, then you'd like to see him try.

You are not so easily tamed.

And it was time he knew.

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"I've never seen him this happy."

You hide a smile behind the rim of your glass as you take a sip of your drink, following Hera's gaze to Minho where he stands across the room, discussing something with his brothers.

He looks fucking delicious tonight-dressed smartly in a navy three piece suit, his thick, dark hair smoothed back, his sun kissed skin golden beneath the lights.

Maybe these parties aren't a complete waste of time after all.

"What can I say?" You muse as you let your gaze fall back to Hera beside you, a smile gracing your lips now. "I'm good for him."

She gives a little tinkling laugh, raising her glass to meet your own with a gentle clink of cheers.

"I'll drink to that."

You take another long sip of your drink, and when you look up once more, Minho's gaze catches your own from across the room.

You arch a brow in response and mouth silently to him, already knowing the answer, Having fun?

He gives a slight shake of his head with a roll of his eyes, and you grin.

He holds your gaze, and with a miniscule movement, tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows raising in a silent question, as a smirk curves his lips.

You turn to Hera, setting your now empty glass down beside hers on the table, and touching her arm lightly to draw her attention.

"I'm going to use the little goddesses room."

She nods, turning back to her conversation with Aphrodite, and you excuse yourself from the room, noting that Minho's already managed to slip away from his own conversation on the other side of the room.

He's nowhere in sight.

The sounds of the party fade away as you slip out of the gaudy ballroom and make your way down the quiet hallway.

You're just passing the large, glass doors that look outside onto the darkened veranda and sprawling garden, when he finds you, coming out from the shadows and startling you slightly, his hands going on either side of your head as he traps you against the wall.

"Jesus, Min." You breathe out, your muscles relaxing, as you try your best to glare up at him. "Give a girl some warning."

His teeth flash as he grins in response, the expression dangerous, his dark eyes meeting yours in a predatory fashion.

"Where's the fun in that?" He murmurs back, as he lifts a hand to play with a strand of your hair, his fingers brushing over the seashell comb you wear. "I like when your hair is down."

You tilt your head back against the wall and look up at him, a smirk flickering across your lips. "Should've thought of that before you RSVPed us to this stupid party." You tease in a low voice.

Minho lets out a sigh. "Yeah well, I have duties and so do you, but right now-" His eyes darken, his body pressing into yours, flattening you against the wall at your back. "-right now it's just you and I, sweetheart."

"And about a hundred other people just in the other room." You retort back, reaching up to straighten the shell broach pinned to his suit jacket.

"Fuck them." Minho growls, leaning forward to run his nose up your throat, and you tilt your head back to give him better access as he begins to suck kisses into the skin beneath your jaw. "They can miss us for a couple of minutes."

"Speaking of hair-" You breathe out, as he continues to litter your skin methodically with love bites, his teeth making your skin tingle and your breath catch.

You reach up and run your fingers through his dark tresses, loosening the gel and mussing the strands until they fall around his face. You let salt water coat your fingertips, dampening your skin and wetting his hair until it looks as if he's just been for a swim.

"-I like yours best when it's wet."

Minho pulls back to smirk at you, his brow arched, his eyes dark.

"I like you best when you're wet, sweetheart. Especially for me."

You hold his gaze, his words sending fire like heat skittering across every inch of your skin.

"Well, then you're going to love what you find between my thighs."

"Oh?" Minho's smirk grows, his pupils blowing at your words. He leans into your space, pressing you back against the wall once more, his knee going between your legs to nudge them apart. "Show me then."

You hold his gaze, reaching down to lift your dress to give him access. His eyes never leave yours as he leans forward, and slides a hand between your upper thighs.

You let out a stuttered gasp when he touches you, and you can feel the way you instantly coat his fingers, and it crosses your mind that maybe you should be embarrassed at how worked up he's already gotten you without even touching you, but you can't be, not when Minho pulls his fingers back and studies the shiny, sticky skin like it's one of the seven wonders of the mortals' modern world.

"Beautiful." He murmurs beneath his breath, still watching the way your slick slides down his fingers as if entranced.

You admire him for a moment, admiring you, and then your lips curve upward into the start of an amused smile.

"I suppose I do not need to mention the irony of a Sea God being obsessed with fluids?"

Minho's dark eyes flick to you, his fingers still raised. He arches a brow.

"You do not." He replies back pointedly, and then, holding your gaze, bends his middle finger so that he can dip it between his lips, licking it clean of your juices with even, long strokes of his tongue.

You clench your thighs together, suddenly in desperate need of friction as you watch him slowly, methodically clean his fingers, all the while, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Although-" He muses, pinning you beneath his heated gaze, his lips curving up into the hint of a smirk as he sees the flush of your cheeks, the subtle movements of your legs. "-if given the choice, I would choose you over the sea any day."

You shake your head teasingly, as he backs you up a few steps further down the hallway, away from the party in the ballroom, stalking you like a big cat, his movements lithe and fluid.

"That's shocking, coming from you."

"It's true though." He insists in a low tone, before he cages you in once more, his hands coming down forcefully on either side of your head, making you jump. "Every word of it."

Without warning, he slides his hands down your body and palms your ass before he lifts you up, fingers digging into the backs of your thighs.

You give a little yelp, and cling to him, your arms going around his neck for support.

He looks up at you, his eyes the color of the sea before a storm, and the sudden hungry look on his sharp features makes you shiver.

"Now. Be a good girl, sweetheart, and let me feel how wet you are for me from the inside."

He pushes your skirts aside, and hefts you a little higher into his arms.

You gasp when you realize for the first time as he shifts you, that your back is no longer pressed against the solidarity of the wall, no, your back is pressed against the cold pane of a window-the French doors to the garden.

"Minho." You hiss, struggling in his arms a little bit now. "Someone will see."

"Let them." He growls back, his voice sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine, before he bucks his hips and sheaths himself fully inside of you in one smooth motion.

You cry out, your back arching and your head falling back against the glass, safe to let your body react how it will in the strong embrace of Minho's arms.

"Fuck." You pant out, your hands tangling into his hair, as he continues to thrust in steady strokes.

"Oh gods-" He groans gutturally, his fingers digging into your thighs, keeping you in place. He looks up at you through dark strands of hair, his lips parted, as if he can't quite catch his breath, as if you're the most beautiful, wonderful thing he's ever seen.

When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse, his words punctuated by harsh gasps that match his rhythm.

"Fuck, sweetheart. There's no one, no one-mortal or God-who can instantly make me lose every last shred of control like you can."

You tug on his hair to make him meet your eyes as both of your lips part in pleasure.

"Does that scare you?" You breathe out, your chest rising and falling as you heave for breath.

His lips curve upward into the start of a smile, and his voice takes on a tone of amused honesty that rings through your very being.

"Not anymore."

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It fucking terrifies him.

This thing you possess that makes him lose his mind, his every last thought, his final shreds of dignity and willpower.

But he doesn't know how to control it-or himself-and that scares him. So instead, he's avoided you, and obsessed until his feelings have grown sour, and forced a wedge between you that might never break.

It's easier to deal with you as an enemy from afar than someone who has the power to destroy him right?

It's been eight weeks-two months-of silent dinners, but who's counting?

He glances at you down the table-a table much too big for two people-and notes the way your eyes scan the horizon, looking for the dolphins.

Stupid fucking dolphins.

You've never once looked at him the way you look at those creatures, but then again, has he ever really given you reason to?

He clears his throat, and before he can talk himself out of it, announces, setting aside his fork, "I have work that must be seen to. Enjoy your evening."

He stands, pushing back his chair, and turns to leave, but before he can escape, you say, without turning your head, "Stimulating dinner conversation as always, husband. I so enjoy our time together."

He freezes, and something akin to annoyance bubbles in his chest as he stares at you, refusing to look at him, your eyes fixed on the sea.

"To have a conversation with one another, wife, requires you to engage in one." He replies back coolly, watching you for your next reaction.

He's not disappointed.

You whirl to face him, eyes flashing with anger, hands going into fists on top of the table.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was unaware you wanted anything to do with me, and I certainly didn't know you wanted to speak with me."

Minho grinds his teeth, and he feels a muscle clench and flicker in his jaw as he regards you.

He shouldn't flame the fire, but he's intrigued by this side of you, this fight, and interacting is interacting, regardless of the tone of the words being said.

"Forgive me, but I am not one of your precious dolphins, so I merely assumed you would find my company boring and droll."

His tone is sharp, goading, seething.

You stand, shoving your chair back so forcefully that it tips over onto the cobblestone, and glare him down with the force of a thousand suns.

If he were not a God, Minho probably would've been dead.

"I hate you."

He feels his lips curve upward into the start of a taunting sneer as he leans over the table toward you, palms flat against the cloth.

"Oh? Do you? Careful there, sweetheart, the line between hate and love is no thicker than the edge of a sharpened dagger."

"Oh, there is no mistaking the feelings I have for you. I hate everything about you." You spit back, words sharp and pointed.

Minho settles back down into his seat casually, crossing his leg over his knee. He sees surprise flicker across your expression, before the fury takes over once more.

He motions for you to go on with a wave of his hand. "Go on then. Tell me all the things you hate about me. I do love a good discussion." He leans forward and makes a show of listening, his chin propped on his fist.

He sees the way it pisses you off, and it makes something inside of him lurch.

Your gaze is hard as you begin.

"I hate your arrogance. I hate the way that you just assume that everyone-mortal and god alike-want to fall at your feet."

Minho watches you, the way your chest heaves with impassioned breaths as you lean forward across the table toward him, the way your hair is falling loose from the carefully curated style he's sure your maids spent hours on that morning.

He prefers it down.

His cock pays attention to the way your breasts fall heavily when you lean, the open neck of the dress you wear gaping open, revealing the necklace of seashells dipping between your cleavage.

Focus.

You narrow your glare in on him, and Minho realizes you've begun speaking once more while he was distracted.

"I hate the fact that you make me come to these goddamn dinners every night, just so you can make me into a fool."

He arches a brow. "Well, I hate the fact that you agree to come to dinner, if you're simply not going to even try to engage in conversation with me."

Your expression grows murderous.

"You have never once shown any interest in speaking to or getting to know me! Not once!" You fire back, eyes flashing. "And that brings me to my next point-I hate that you dragged me here, away from my home, away from my family, just to lock yourself away in your office and not even have the honor or decency to show me even an ounce of kindness!"

Minho feels himself start to grow irritated as your voice rises in volume, and your anger flare.

He clenches his teeth and breathes out slowly, staring you down.

"Honor and decency?" He repeats back, his tone cold, his words firm. "Kindness? When has the world-or the Fates for that matter-ever been kind? I hate that you are so naive that you would think the world would be handed to you like a polished pearl within an oyster. This is not Naxos."

"I hate the way you talk down to me, belittle me, as if I am a sheltered little girl who knows nothing." You retort back, staring him right back down. "I am a goddess of the sea, and now your queen, and you would do well to treat me as such."

He feels his lips twist upward into a humorless smile.

"Oh? Is that so? If you were a queen, you would not be addressing me in such a way, which in turn, proves my point that you indeed know nothing of the world."

"Bullshit." You hiss through clenched teeth. "Your views on life-and marriage-are dated and archaic."

Minho arches a brow. "Interesting. Do tell me more about my own views, sweetheart."

Minho watches the way you clench your hand into a fist, your knuckles whitening.

"I hate when you call me sweetheart."

"And I hate when you're contrary just for the sake of being contrary, sweetheart." Minho retorts right back.

You glare across the table at him.

"I'm not fucking doing this." You finally growl out, before you turn your back on him and head for the winding stairs that lead off the veranda, and down to the hidden cove below.

Minho follows you, his steps right behind yours.

When you reach the beach, you whirl on him, fury written across your features.

Minho stops, but he doesn't back down.

"What else?" He goads, watching you carefully.

You stare at him for a long, hard moment, and then he sees you take in a forceful breath.

"I hate the way you hold a fork. And that you decorated my room in jewel tones and that you've never even once asked me if I prefer my coffee with or without sugar. I hate the way the same exact muscle flickers in your jaw every single time when you're holding in your irritation about something."

Minho smirks. "Oh? Is that all?"

"No." You retort back immediately, holding his amused gaze. "I also hate the way your hair always looks like you've just come in off the sea-tousled and damp. I hate the fact that you wear white button down shirts so casually, and I hate that I've noticed that one of your cheeks dimples slightly when you smile."

Minho stares at you for a moment, caught off guard.

You take the opportunity to barrel on, stepping closer to him, your bare feet digging into the wet sand.

"I hate that I know that you prefer when I wear my hair down, because I've seen the way you look at me when it's not done, and I absolutely fucking hate that I care in the slightest what you think of me."

The sea crashes wave after wave behind you, as if agreeing with your tirade.

Minho stares at you some more, completely unsure of what to say.

"I hate-" You take in a deep, gulping breath, and your expression sobers a little, the fury ebbing slightly. "-more than anything, that you have an effect me, I hate the way my body betrays me when you're around, the way my heart pounds, the way I look for you in a room when I enter, even though I know you won't be there."

Minho swallows.

"I hate the way you say my name-not the name I was given as a goddess, but my name-and the sparks I feel dance across my skin when I hear it on your tongue."

You sigh, and glance down at the sand at your feet, your toes dug beneath.

"But do you want to know what I hate most of all?" You ask, in a quiet voice, as if you're not really asking Minho, more just putting it out into the universe.

So he doesn't answer, just watching you, waiting for you to continue.

The waves crash against the shore, and when you look at him, your eyes have darkened, no longer with anger, but with regret.

"I hate, more than anything, that I can't make myself hate you."

Minho stares, all the words he was preparing dying on his lips, his brain buzzing.

You don't-hate him?

Fuck, maybe, that means-

He doesn't allow himself to finish that thought.

Surging forward, like the impatient sea at high tide, Minho crashes his lips into yours, and you stumble with the surprise force of it, both of you tumbling down into the soft, wet sand.

Minho doesn't stop, pressing you backward into the shore, his lips like fire on your own.

You let out a soft little gasp of surprise against his mouth, but you don't push him away, and he experimentally dips his tongue between the part of your lips.

Your breath audibly hitches, and the sound goes straight to Minho's dick.

Fuck, you're just as responsive as he had imagined you would be.

Carefully, he lets his hand trace down the arch of your neck, the line of your shoulder, and he hesitates for a brief moment of unsurety, before he lets his palm cup the swell of your breast.

You arch your body up into his touch, and open your mouth wider for his tongue, letting out a little whine as he begins to massage your breast.

"Fuck." Minho breathes out against your mouth, pulling back slightly so he can stare down at you splayed beneath him on the sand, your hair loose, your lips raw.

Its the fucking most beautiful sight he's ever seen.

He lets his hand trace down the line of your hip, your thigh, to the material of your skirt, wet now with sea water, sticking to your skin.

He has the sudden crazy urge to slip a hand beneath the material and see just how wet you are for himself.

Instead, he glances up at you, watching him carefully, and murmurs in the form of some start of a question, "Can I-?"

You nod, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, and Minho wants to reach up and free the plump skin from its constraints.

He doesn't, because before he can move, you say softly, "You don't have to be gentle with me. I know what this entails."

He follows the length of your body back upward, until, he's straddling you again, his hands sinking into the wet sand on either side of your head.

He looks down at you and sees your nervousness in the way your forehead crinkles slightly, the way you obstinately suck on your bottom lip.

Fuck, maybe there's a few tiny things he's let himself notice about you too in the weeks he's done his due diligence of avoiding you.

"You've been prepared?" He asks, still watching you carefully.

You nod again. "Yes. Our governesses. They said-"

You hesitate, and Minho feels his heart leap into his throat.

"They said what?"

You glance away, avoiding his gaze, and pink rises in your cheeks.

Minho doesn't think he's ever seen you embarrassed before.

"They said it might hurt." You whisper back, still not looking at him, your eyes focused too intently on the way your fingers, stretched out at your side, dig into the sand in anxious movements.

Minho blows out a breath.

"It might." He admits quietly, and you flick your gaze up to his, and he sees determination still your features. "But, did they also tell you then, that if done right, it can be extremely pleasurable for you?"

You cock your head, holding his gaze. "No. They said that you-"

"Fuck me." Minho immediately shakes his head, even though the words make his already unbearably hard cock ache.

He leans closer to you, his nose brushing yours. He can smell the salt water in your hair, see the way your pupils blow at his nearness.

He watches the way your throat bobs with a swallow, and brings his hand up to your cheek, stroking a fingertip along your jaw, glistening with sea water.

"I want to wring your body of every ounce of pleasure imaginable before I even think about satisfying myself."

Your lips part in surprise at his fervently uttered statement, and Minho smirks, staring down at you-the way your chest has started to heave with your breaths, the way you're squirming slightly beneath him.

Signs of arousal. Arousal for him.

He brings his hand up to his mouth, and holding your gaze, spits into his palm, wetting his fingers slowly, one by one, as you watch.

"You're wet." He remarks offhandedly, and he pointedly gazes down at your dress, the water puddling beneath your hips from the waves lapping at the shore.

You stare back at him and give a little hum of assent in your throat in reagards to his observation. "Mmm."

"Tell me, sweetheart-" He expects you to prickle at the nickname, but you don't, your eyes instead darkening at the way the syllables roll off his tongue. "-are you wet in other places?"

You inhale sharply, and Minho practically groans when your eyes flicker to his.

"Yes."

His lips curve into the start of a smirk. "I thought so."

He slides his hand down your body once more-the one he'd wet moments before-and moving slowly to give you a chance to change your mind, slips his fingers beneath the drenched material of your skirt.

When he touches the wet heat between your upper thighs, you both inhale sharply in tandem.

"Fuck, you weren't kidding." Minho groans, leaning forward on the one hand he still has planted in the sand, as he carefully begins to explore you with a finger at a time. "Wet enough to drown in."

"Minho-" You gasp out, arching your body up into his and putting delicious friction on his cock, as he cautiously works you open. "Fucking gods above. Shit."

Minho's lips curl up into an amused smirk as profanities continue to fall from your lips in an unending, pleasure driven stream.

"You know, for such a pretty little thing, you have an incredibly filthy mouth, sweetheart." He remarks, making you gasp and jolt as he curls a finger experimentally.

He wants to memorize the way you look up at him in this moment, your vision hazed with pleasure, your expression soft.

"I grew up in the presence of sailors." You reply back with a slight shrug, as Minho pauses, taking you in. "Does it bother you?"

He arches a brow, leaning forward to put his lips against your ear, and as he does so, he adds another finger, making you whimper and squirm beneath him.

"On the contrary, sweetheart. I could listen to you sing my praises in profanities for the rest of my immortal life."

"Minho, please-" You beg, your hands tracing up his body, your body writhing in the damp sand.

He stares down at you. "Please what?"

"Please, just give me more."

His lips curve, and his dick throbs at your desperate plea.

He would love nothing more.

"You and I are like the sea, sweetheart. The waves never cease. There is always more to give. And I swear to you, if I have to spend the rest of my eons exploring every single inch of you, I will gladly do so. Over, and over, and over again. Wave, after wave, after wave."

You bite back a smile as you stare up at him.

"I hate that you're so dedicated."

He smirks.

"And I, sweetheart, hate that I ever believed myself capable of staying away from you. I intend to remedy my mistake every single day from here on out."

🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚��🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚🐚

You lean back against Minho's bare chest, admiring the way the sunset plays off of the waves, your mind quiet and your body content against the warmth of the sand.

You feel him press a kiss against the crown of your wet hair, and you glance up at him, arching a brow as you ask softly, "What was that for?"

He glances down at you, amusement in his dark eyes. "I have to have a reason to kiss my wife?"

You give a little shrug and bite back a smile. "No, I guess not."

He angles his head to press a kiss to your lips, lingering for a moment. You can taste the salt on his tongue, the sun warming his mouth.

He tastes like the sea.

He pulls back, and you grin at him. "I just find that you usually have a reason for everything."

Minho rolls his eyes. "I hate that you think I can't just be spontaneous."

"And I hate that you stopped kissing me." You quip back playfully, and he growls, leaning over to kiss you again, wrestling you back into his arms as you giggle and squirm against the sand.

"There. Happy?" He asks when you separate once more.

You glance up at him, and raise a hand, letting sea water coat your fingers as you push back his hair.

"Incredibly."

His expression softens, and he leans in to kiss you once more, hand tangling into your hair to tug you to him.

You'd worn it down. It was his favorite after all.

Out at sea, against the setting sun, a dolphin breaches.