#if he doesn’t worship me and give me whatever I want I’m literally not interested | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

snackhobi · 4 years

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pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan.

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve.

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable.

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is.

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church.

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so… not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside.

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?”

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement.

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble.

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom.

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised.

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt.

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts.

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh.

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless.

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck.

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in.

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres.

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body.

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage.

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe.

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead.

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming.

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class.

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end.

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?”

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading.

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it.

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing.

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.”

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good.

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it.

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm.

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be.

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh.

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent.

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed.

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside.

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil.

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed.

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you.

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you.

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs.

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…”

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon

#magicshopnet #btswritingcafe #taehyung smut #taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts #bts smut #v smut #v oneshot #v x reader #taehyung #taehyung fluff #bts oneshot #kim taehyung #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist

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lemonlurkrr · 3 years

Text

@aureateart ok. My favourite parts of twilight princess (and some other random thoughts about TP sprinkled in there) taken from my monster TP word vomit google doc :

Link lmao

Ok but for real, I like this incarnation of Link :)

I love Ordon (it just seems like such a chill and cozy village)

ALSO love how easy it is to interpret Link as being a sort of older brother figure to the Ordon kiddos. It’s just,, super cute? AND GHHH nice nice good thanks nintendo for giving me characters to care about/characters that I can imagine Link caring about

He didn’t sign up for any of this (tbh, none of the Links really signed up for this jshdjsd). But I mean like, dude was just going to take a trip to castle town, drop a gift off for the royal family, and come back. But haHA oopsies he did get to castle town eventually but definitely not the way he expected hsjdhsd

He’s just a little dude?

AND FUCK. HE REALLY HAD NEVER BEEN OUTSIDE OF ORDON UNTIL ALL OF THAT

everything is new for the player AND Link

Midna

She’s cool :)

she really just

*teleports into your jail cell* hello whore.

I am no master at writing but AYYYY she do got a character arc!!!

She was actually pretty helpful sometimes, I ALWAYS checked in with her before turning to a game guide

Other NPCs

NICE

Love all of the TP character designs (ASHEI’S ARMOUR??? AOWOAOAOOAO)

Saving Zelda and all of Hyrule was important yea but thinking back maybe it was more like, the Ordonians and the kids were what was pushing Link to keep on going

I like the Resistance members :) Very video gamey of them to have one NPC assigned to each dungeon but hey!!! Kinda cool getting to see a little glimpse of each of em

Idk, it’s just fun to imagine Link popping into Telma’s bar after each dungeon and taking a little rest :) (or to celebrate? maybe just chat, idk, give this man some downtime!!)

Honestly it was just kind of nice that Link wasn’t entirely alone. I mean, I know Midna was there the whole time, but I am always for giving Link a big group of friends (see my love for hyrule warriors, age of calamity, and LU LMAO)

Hero’s shade, very very cool, kinda sad he died with regrets but HEY. He got to pass on his knowledge eventually

AND the connection to OoT?? AND assumed to be related by blood too????? GOOD SHIT

Ilia, I REALLY really wanted to like her (er, it’s not like I dislike her, she’s just,,, kinda there for me).

It definitely seems like Nintendo was pushing to make her the romantic interest, but GHHHHH they really threw that out of the window for me by having her lose her memories

I saw a text post a while ago that said it would have been interesting if Ilia was Link’s sister instead and YES!! That would have been cool too :0

Wish we got to know Zelda a little more

I feel like we barely know anything about her

Idk man, like I said earlier, I never really had any sort of drive to save Zelda during my playthroughs

She obviously knows Midna, so maybe if they gave us just a little bit more of that relationship I’d be more interested in her?

TP WORLD BUILDINGGGG

Botw has good world building too, but each race felt kinda,,, isolated? I absolutely love the different architecture and vibe each town has (and all the the weapons too) but ghhh yea everyone felt so separated. As far as I can remember, we don’t see tooo much of the races interacting with each other? Now that I’m typing that out maybe that’s to be expected because of the calamity but KLSJDKJFD ANYWAYS THIS IS ABOUT TP

The world feels nice and alive, love how populated everything is

Castle town I like castle town a lot, it feels dense and busy and I really like how you can’t talk to every NPC you see

Very cool very fun that we got to see the Gorons hanging out in multiple spots

kinda wish we got to see the Zoras a little more (I guess they are a bit limited since they need water but GHHHH the tp zoras are so prebby,,)

BUT HEY, I do remember seeing a zora or two hanging out in the hot springs around death mountain after beating the lakebed temple (I think, might have been a different dungeon)

but aaaa would have been nice to see them in at least a couple of other places. I think it would have really added to the “congrats Link!! You’re restoring peace to Hyrule” feeling you get from seeing the Gorons hanging out in Kakariko and Castle Town

ORDON

Love how chill it is and how it’s kind of separate from Hyrule proper

They really do seem to be doing their own thing apart from the rest of Hyrule

Just kinda adds onto the “he’s just a regular dude minding his own business” kind of vibes I get from TP Link

Also I like Ordona :)

THE LIGHT SPIRITS,,

Love their design

And love how they’re not exactly like a pure white?

Different spirit representing each aspect of the triforce my beloved

But yes hi I think Ordona is very cool

Who are you, how did you get here, which goddess do you represent? Do you even represent one of the three golden goddesses? Do the Ordonians know about you? Have any of them ever SEEN you??? Do they worship you? Does anybody even know about the existence of the light spirits?? FUCK so many questions but ghhh I like how they broke the status quo a bit by throwing in a fourth spirit :)

I feel like this one is kinda weird but I like that voice sample they used in the light spirit music. It’s spooky and pretty at the same time :)

cutscenes mmmmm

Ok ok, the spooky lanayru cutscene is very good

BUT THE “Link, Chosen Hero! Lend us the last of your power!” CUTSCENE MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM LOVE IT SO MUCH

IT just

Idk man

It just hit different

I like the music

And seeing the light spirits swimming around in the light juice water whatever it is

Summoning the light arrows?

AND HHHHH “Lend us the last of your power!” THIS IS IT. This is the final battle.

Seeing Zelda bow down, and then Link putting his hand out 👌👌👌

Link: ok bud, let’s do this together :)

Connection to OoT (did I already mention this? Maybe., Whatever)

Very cool nintendo :)

I love seeing connections between all the diff zelda games.

Because like, on one hand, they’re all separate from each other because of yknow, individual hero stuff. BUT ALSO, they’re all connected because of the reincarnation stuff

Grrrr walking through the sacred grove and going “The Hero of Time walked around here a long time ago” FUCK THATS SO COOL

Is the Hero’s Shade watching me? What does he think of me? DIsappointed? Proud? The Hero of Time went through HELL so this timeline didn’t have to deal with any of the shit Ganon was gonna pull with the triforce, better not fuck this UP Link!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Midlink is cute

Kinda hurts that she smashed the mirror but that was probably so Nintendo didn’t have to worry about people going “but what about the twili??????” for any of the other games LMAO

BUT ALSO LIKE SKJDKLJFJ There are some pretty massive plot holes in TP anyway so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ whatever it’s fine we’ll just use this for angst because GOD do y’all like angst

So is Shadlink

Honestly don’t know where this ship came from but it’s cute so whatever

THE MUSIC??

Love Midna’s theme and how they referenced the dark world theme from ALttP (I remember trying to learn the dark world theme on the piano and doing the Leonardo DiCaprio point meme at the little jingle I recognized from Midna’s theme)

Hyrule field theme SLAPS.

Apparently references a couple of the other over-world themes from the previous zelda games (I got this from 8-bit Music theory’s video on the over-world zelda themes, he talks about TP at around 11:40 but def recommend watching the whole video if you’re into music analysis stuff)

So there’s this bit of the Hyrule Field theme, I don’t know the official name for it but I remember seeing somewhere it being called the “at an advantage theme” since yeah, you hear it during the boss music whenever you expose their weak points. FUCKINGGG LOVE THAT. Didn’t notice it during my first playthrough, but hearing it during my second was like a little easter egg for my ears every time :)

Midna’s lament is very pretty (and fun to play on the piano)

COURAGE THEME.

I didn’t care for it too much when I started playing the game but hearing it in ZREO’s arrangement of the Hyrule Field theme literally makes me turn into a puddle of emotions. Also hearing it around and of the Ordon kids (I think it plays after Link saves Colin) AAAAAAAAAAAAA

Orchestra piece #1 and #2 HOLY SHIT????????????????

Literally, the first time I listened to those I just,,,, plugged in my headphones, volume 100, layed on the floor/against my desk and silently vibed. I don’t know what the hell it is, but those two just fit so well with TP?? I still avoid listening to them nowadays cause if I DO I definitely will get overwhelmed with the “god I love this game so FUCKING MUCH” kind of feels.

Wolf link sucks at singing

the first time I heard him howling Zelda’s Lullaby I lost my shit because LKSJLDKSGLKJFSKG god that was.,, Bad. Anyways, hearing him howl some of the songs from OoT was cute :)

TP STAFF ROLL???

VERY GOOD. IT’s like 10 minutes long and GOD do I love every single second of it. It doesn’t have the same energy as the skyward sword staff roll or the orchestra pieces but GOD does it hit good??

Nice and calm after that big exciting adventure. Maybe it would have been more fun or emotional to have a higher energy piece but it was really nice getting to sit back and watch the camera fly around Hyrule. Seeing like, the Gorons and the Zoras having a good time, the kids returning to Ordon? GOOD SHIT.

and AAAAA that end, when you hear the main Zelda theme and see Link riding off out of Faron woods on Epona… good shit. It gets you thinking, where the hell is he going? What is he doing? Off ot do more adventuring? Going to help out the resistance or something? Going to help Zelda? Or maybe he’s trying to figure out a way to restore the mirror of twilight? Whoooo knows.

hhHHHHhhh it’s just that final reminder that YES!!! YOU JUST PLAYED A ZELDA GAME. JUST ANOTHER STORY APART OF THE WHOLE EPIC OF THE ZELDA SERIES AS A WHOLE

I also want to acknowledge the instrument/samples they used for all the twili stuff.

They’re all just so unique and contrast SO well with the rest of the TP OST. LIKE FUCK!! Anytime I hear the screech from the Twilit Kargarok? Sends a shiver down my spine. I associate those sounds SO strongly with the twili realm. (Like, the same way you associate the BSHEWW VVWWMMM sounds with light sabers)

I love it so god damn much

literally any time there’s a certain sound or motif associated with something I lose my shit

Sacred grove sacred grove sacred gro-

lovely lovely lovely so much fun playing that on the piano. AND again, I did the Leonardo DiCaprio pointing meme when I heard the theme from the lost woods come in GHHHHHHHH

shoutout to TP Faron Woods for helping me study and get through all of my schoolwork

BLEGUUHHH can you tell that I really love music?

and also yea I guess TP is kinda cool too :\

IF YOU READ ALL OF THAT THANKS I GUESS

#lemonspeakrr #LEMON SPEAKS 2K WORDS ABOUT TWILIGHT PRINCESS BECAUSE THEY ARE INSANE.

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lulu-zodiac · 3 years

Note

Hi LuLu! I was just wondering if you’ve listened to any of Jensen’s music and think that any of his songs are about his relationship with Misha? (obvi lots of it could be about Danneel and their kids, but I’ve never seen someone look at his music with a cockles lens before and thought I would ask if you ever have!)

Love your blog btw :)

hi! <3

okay, prepare yourself because I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS.

here are a breakdown of the four radio company songs i think have the most cockles vibes:

1. off my mind

this was the first song on vol 1 i heard that just immediately felt overwhelmingly cockles to me.

it screams pining, complicated love and longing. i mean, god. the emotion in jensen's voice when he sings "how do i get you off my mind" and "living inside my head" at the peak of the song?? the sheer desperation of it? it's a LOT, okay.

also, to me, the lyrics "i lean in for a kiss upon your shoulder, realize it wouldn't do, not with you" suggests a love that has to be hidden, that's constrained by a need to keep up appearances. which again - major cockles vibes. especially when you combine it with how many moments there are like this.

2. any way that you want me

okay, what about this one doesn't scream cockles? again, there's a big theme of hiding/trying to deny feelings for someone. which i think jensen probably did a LOT of in the earlier days with misha, and that continues in terms of wanting to keep whatever their situation with each other is/has been private.

i mean, it's just full of lyrics about pretending, trying and failing to forget, sealing away the truth.

again, i feel like this could be about earlier days jensen trying not to let the intensity of his feelings for misha take hold because he was afraid of them. like, idk, maybe something happened between them and jensen tried to convince himself it didn't mean anything because he thought it was easier, but it became too powerful to ignore. those are the kind of vibes it has to me.

'any way that you want me' and 'take the place of all i held onto' are SUCH utterly head-over-heels sentiments. like, this is not just having a crush on someone, this is fucking worshipping someone. this is something profound and utterly overwhelming. and again, it seems too complicated for it to be about danneel, which immediately makes me think it just has to be about misha.

3. watching over me

okay, not only does this have heavy angel connotations, but the line "the fantasy was far too real" has SERIOUS cockles vibes to me. again, it makes me think of earlier days jensen getting caught up in the depth of emotion he felt for misha.

there's also a lot in this song about the person saving him from a lot of pain and struggles, and it's always been pretty clear that misha has done this for jensen (don't even talk to me about the "pebble" moment). but i guess that in itself isn't necessarily indicative of cockles, it could be about danneel too - it's just the context of it in combination with the rest of the song that gives it such strong cockles vibes for me.

also, it doesn't just have castiel subtext ("watching over me" clearly alludes to angels. and like, not subtly either), but it has fucking destiel subtext too : "when i was falling down/is it fair enough to say/that i needed you through the crazy pain" (maybe i'm reading too much into this, but for me it evokes thoughts of dean's time in hell and cas saving him)

"didn't hear the strength/within your words/and what they mean" also makes me think of it taking jensen time to come to terms with misha's feelings for him, and again initially denying the strength of what was between them. a lot of this album to me feels like it's exploring the process of jensen slowly coming to terms with his feelings for misha.

4. city grown willow

this is interesting for a number of reasons, partly because it seems like a lovesong to two people (polyamory vibes?? mish. dee??)

but to me the line "he's young in years but wise in wonderful ways" is just SO perfect for misha. i'd be willing to bet all of my non existent money that line was written for him. and the tenderness with which jensen sings it says it all. fucking hell.

i've just done these four because honestly, i could very easily do a breakdown like this of literally every single radio company song. which would just be. an insanely long post. (which, i won't lie, i kind of really want to do now...)

oh, on a final note: i think it's VERY interesting that, according to steve, any angels imagery/lyrics were jensen's idea.

sorry it took me such a long time to answer this, thank you for asking such a great question! <3

#disclaimer: this is PURELY CONJECTURE #damn i really want to do a full post of all the songs now #the english lit nerd in me is really coming out #goddamn it #asks #radio company #cockles #cockles trash dumpster #jensen ackles #spn cast

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mandoinevarro · 4 years

Text

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun.

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose. Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga. “Who’s they?”

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you. You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames your knees with his legs “—armchair.” Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you? Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander @hellomothermoon @newyorksins @leo-moon @benedrylcumbersnatch

#the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando x you #star wars smut

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transdemigod · 3 years

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Cutting Yourself Off from the Entities: A Comprehensive Guide

I am once again overanalyzing the Magnus Archives for fun. This topic is super interesting to me, and I haven’t seen it explored as much as other theories, so here we go.

So, you’ve pledged yourself to one of the Dread Powers, but decided that you’ve had enough of terrorizing others. Not to worry, there is a way out. Melanie King did it and lived all the way to the end of the series!

Here is the summary, though I’m sure a full explanation will be more satisfying:

To escape the Buried, lose yourself to the emptiness. To escape the Corruption, kill what loves you. To escape the Dark, give yourself to the sunlight. To escape the Desolation, choose kindness. To escape the End, cut yourself off from dreams. To escape the Eye, blind yourself. To escape the Flesh, give up control of your body. To escape the Hunt, tear out your teeth and claws. To escape the Lonely, bind yourself to others. To escape the Slaughter, remove your emotions. To escape the Spiral, destroy your voice. To escape the Stranger, make yourself known. To escape the Vast, trap yourself in a small place. To escape the Web, give up your autonomy.

The rest is under the cut. Let me know if you have any ideas that you think I missed, I would love to discuss theories.

We know for sure that the way to escape the Eye is to gouge your own eyes out. The other entities have less information, but we get a few clues here and there. In the season 4 Q&A, Jonny and Alex joke about leaving the service of the Stranger by running naked through the streets. They also mention that the Desolation can be left by an act of true altruism. With these details, as well as other details in the rest of the canon, we can make a list of criteria that must be satisfied for an act that will cut someone off from each of the 14 Entities.

Firstly, it isn’t enough to just stop feeding your god. Daisy and Jon both tried to abstain and ended up wasting away, and it is implied that they would have died if they had continued. Dying is certainly one possible way to escape the service of a Fear, but we’re going for living out the rest of your natural life here.

Secondly, there has to be some sacrifice made that relates to the specific power. This is where the Desolation’s explanation kind of falls apart; doing one good act doesn’t stop you from just continuing to be destructive, so the act must also include giving up the thing that ties you to your Entity. In the Stranger’s case, one could argue that exposing yourself does count as giving up your anonymity, and there are several Stranger avatars that seem to thrive on being unknown. My theory is that each Entity has a draw of some kind, a power that it gives its followers, which you would have to completely give up if you are to leave it for good. Jon mentioned that the blinding has to be permanent, so I’m assuming this applies to the others as well. Basically, the avatar who wishes to leave must give up something that one who does not wish to leave would never want to.

Third, the change can be physical or symbolic. Obviously blinding yourself is a very physical change, while committing acts of altruism or making yourself known are less so. Some of the Entities will have pretty clear parts of the body that connect you to the power, others will need a bit more of an explanation. In special cases where a person gets their power from an artifact or a Leitner, destroying the thing would probably be enough to cut them off from that power. And of course, if you are as lucky as Georgie Barker and manage to completely get rid of your fear, that would probably be enough to cut you off from them as well.

So, here are my explanations for what you would have to do to cut yourself off from each of the 14. I’m basing it on examples we get in the series, the few rules I have decided to set, and what would seem thematically or symbolically appropriate. Realistically, each individual would have their own personal journey and each avatar is different, but it’s more fun this way.

The Buried- The draw of the Buried is a little difficult to narrow down, we’ve heard about restfulness, the comfort of enclosed spaces, the desire to be a part of the earth, etc. The thing Buried avatars seem to dislike the most is wide open spaces, though I don’t know how that would translate to something you can change about yourself. How would a person cut themselves off from the earth? You could move to a place that is very open, but you could also just leave. I’m not sure if there is a way a person could give up the concept of space, so I’m probably going to have this same problem when I get to the Vast. Probably the only thing you could give up that makes sense is the type of space the Buried is tied to, so you’d have to keep away from enclosed spaces. However you’re supposed to do that, I have no idea. This one is just going to have to be a less satisfying answer, unless I find another idea later.

To escape the Buried, lose yourself to the emptiness.

The Corruption- Most people who get into the Corruption get filled with bugs, and we know from Jane that it is appealing because you have a sense of belonging and purpose. The Corruption focuses a lot on toxic love, and I think communities specifically because the things we think of as infections are multitudinous: insect hives, bacteria, fungal colonies, etc. Even in the case of that one guy with the beetle wife, it was implied that there would soon be many more beetles. So, I think to stop being fed by the Corruption, you have to get rid of the infection in whatever form it takes. The one woman in the statement about the cult ended up leaving, but she wasn’t a full avatar, so I think that would require a bit more drastic action. If Jane had wanted to leave, she would probably have had to kill every worm inside of her. Knowing what we know about her, she would never want to do that, but she also had no regrets about becoming the Hive. Someone like John Amherst would have to get rid of all the diseases inside of him, so it might be as simple as a hospital visit and getting pumped full of antibiotics. If you got hollowed out by bugs, you might have to fill in the space somehow to be able to move, but I’m sure you could find a way. Maybe some help from the Flesh? It does seems to be in opposition to the Corruption in many ways, so that would work thematically.

To escape the Corruption, kill what loves you.

The Dark- Another abstract one. What’s the opposite of blinding yourself? The Dark, aside from the literal definition, includes things like weird science and unknowable things that lurk in the dark. Seeking knowledge would be a good opposite to darkness, but that’s not making a sacrifice or a permanent change. It’s not very clear what avatars of the Dark would hate to lose. Manuela Dominguez describes hating the light, how traditional divinity and knowledge are unnatural as opposed to the dark state of the world. This might be another location based one. Apparently, the sunniest places in the world are in northern Africa and the southwest parts of America, so moving there might do it. There isn’t an easy permanent change to make, but committing yourself to being in the sunlight as much as possible would probably work. Change your sleep schedule, move somewhere sunny, just avoid the dark in general. Maybe even start worshipping the sun; that would be in opposition to the cult following the Dark has.

To escape the Dark, give yourself to the sunlight.

The Desolation- We know it’s an act of altruism. I think it might need some adjusting, though, to make it more of a sacrifice by the person who serves the Desolation. This fear is all about sacrifice and loss, so it’s a bit tricky to think of something a Desolation avatar could give up when they’ve already committed to giving up everything. Well, everything except themselves. Many avatars, like Jude Perry, have shown themselves to be selfish, but I don’t think even they would be opposed to going out in a blaze of glory. No, the hardest thing for them would be to settle down and live a prosperous life. This one probably would have to be continuous effort instead of one grand sacrifice. It doesn’t fit with the others, but it does fit the theme of the Desolation. Yeah, I’ve just gone in a big circle. Altruism does make the most sense. Just make sure that selfless gesture counts. It’s not a real choice if you don’t mean it. I guess that would be really difficult if you’re used to burning everything around you, so maybe it’s more of a sacrifice than I thought.

To escape the Desolation, choose kindness.

The End- We actually already have a canon answer for this one: lobotomize yourself. Adelard Dekker found an End avatar that was killing people with carbon monoxide through their dreams, and he stopped him by cutting through his pre-frontal cortex- the part of the brain that lets you dream. It’s implied that this didn’t completely work, but I think the reason for that is that the avatar was not the one to make the choice. It’s emphasized again and again that serving the fears is all about personal choice, so it makes sense that any attempt to cut someone off wouldn’t take if the person hasn’t decided to give up their connection. The End is associated with dreams in most appearances, so I believe that a person who chooses not to dream would no longer be bound to it. Oliver Banks could see those whose deaths were coming in his dreams, which directly led to him becoming an avatar, so if he had decided to stop dreaming, that would be it. This procedure might be a bit difficult, I can’t imagine performing your own lobotomy would go very well, but I’m sure getting someone else to do it would count if you were the one to make the decision. Of course, Terminus would still have you in the end, but that will happen no matter what you do.

To escape the End, cut yourself off from dreams.

The Eye- This one is already answered. The draw of the Eye is the power to watch, so you have to give that ability up. Simple, straightforward, and definitely fits the theme.

To escape the Eye, blind yourself.

The Flesh- Oh boy, this is a weird one. We have dysphoria, consumption, body horror, I can’t say this one sounds very appealing. But it must be, or else it wouldn’t have people serving it. A lot of the draw to serve the fears could be interpreted as dishing out what you can’t take. You don’t have to be afraid of being watched if you do the watching, you don’t have to fear harm if you harm them first. Maybe the appeal of Flesh is making others share that fear that you are nothing but meat. I don’t think it’s really possible for people to give up their corporeal form, unless it’s metaphorical but I have no idea what that could mean. I think those who serve the Flesh thrive on being “more” than others. More body parts, more mass in general. You could go on a diet or become a vegetarian, which I think the writers may have joked about once? I want a more concrete solution, though. Diets are easy to break. You can’t fully give up food without dying, so I guess you could give up the control of food. Giving up your sense of taste would be interesting, but I’m going to keep it more general. No easy answer for this one either.

To escape the Flesh, give up control of your body.

The Hunt- People are drawn to the Hunt by that deep, primal desire to chase and attack. Humans have both predator and prey instincts inside of us, so you would have to completely leave the predator behind to escape the Hunt. I think a good way to do this would be the get rid of your teeth, or nails, whichever you use to cause harm. Daisy was able to temporarily leave behind her power in the Buried, but as soon as she got out, she started starving. I think this is a good argument that you could partially cut off your power by using a power that opposes it in some way, but you would have to give up a part of yourself to make it stick. As soon as she had the freedom and ability to hunt again, that was when the urge came back, and she eventually succumbed to it. Getting rid of the parts of your body that do harm wouldn’t completely stop you if you were dedicated enough, but it’s the choice to do so that matters. This one is a bit more of a symbolic choice, and you could probably do something else to your body that would prevent it from hunting, but I am going with the cooler option.

To escape the Hunt, tear out your teeth and claws.

The Lonely- Probably all you have to do to escape the Lonely is just…be around other people. I’m sure this is easier said than done, but there are lots of ways to commit to other humans. Get married, join a club, make a blood pact and permanently bind yourself to another human. The possibilities are endless! This one, I think more than the others, would require a bit more of a continued effort. I know that the whole point is to make one drastic, permanent change, but the Lonely feels like something that’s easy to relapse into. Maybe it’s the depression metaphor, I don’t know, but I don’t think this one has as easy a solution as the others. It’s hard work forcing yourself to stay connected to others, and it’s something most people in real life struggle with. Giving up any of these powers is a difficult choice, which is the whole point. Life is hard, and we have to make tough decisions. Anyway, I’m okay letting this one be a bit more abstract.

To escape the Lonely, bind yourself to others.

The Slaughter- This one is very similar to the Hunt in terms of actions, so I think the solution might be similar as well. Destroying your weapon would fit well, but it is just way too easy to pick up something else and continue hacking and slashing away. To give up violence entirely, you might have to destroy a significant part of your body. For the Slaughter, I think we should go with a less physical act. The opposite of violence is healing, so maybe become a doctor? You would have to really commit to helping others instead of hurting them, and that is too easy to go back on. I think the sacrifice made here would have to be emotion. Anger and the desire to hurt would go away if you couldn’t feel anymore. I don’t know how you would do this, except through drugs, but that isn’t permanent. There is probably a part of the brain you could destroy that causes emotion. It’s not the same as the prefrontal cortex, which we destroyed back in the End section, so at least it’s not the same solution twice. Honestly, the drugs could work if you did them long term, it’s about the choice anyway. However you do it:

To escape the Slaughter, remove your emotions.

The Spiral- The draw of the Spiral is the power to lie and deceive. There are many ways to do this, and there are probably just as many ways to stop yourself from doing it. However, there is one way that I think fits very well and is absolutely a permanent change: destroy your voice. This is actually the first one I thought of because even though it’s not technically the only way to stop yourself from lying, it fits very well thematically. Michael as the Distortion calls itself the Throat of Delusion Incarnate, so what better way to break yourself off from the same power then by tearing out your throat? It’s not perfect, but I like it so much that I’m going to pick it. I don’t know how one would go about destroying one’s voice, except with very careful surgery. Or screaming for a very long time.

To escape the Spiral, destroy your voice.

The Stranger- We got our answer to this one in the Q&A. Run naked through the streets, and make sure to engage with everyone who talks to you so that you can’t hide. Utterly terrifying. It makes perfect sense though; we heard from the Not!Them that beings of the Stranger hate losing their anonymity. Whether by switching skins, tricking the mind, or looking so generic that no one can remember your face, being known is antithetical to the Stranger. There are probably other ways to go about losing your anonymity then running around naked. You could get up on a stage somewhere and pour your heart out, or publish an autobiography. Basically anything the Eye would like. As long as you are putting yourself out there in a way that you can’t take back, you should be able to successfully cut yourself off from that uncanny fear.

To escape the Stranger, make yourself known.

The Vast- This one might actually be easier than the Buried, because it’s not purely spatial. It includes things like longevity, our insignificance in the face of a massive universe, and large scary things in general. A Vast avatar would hate to be enclosed, but they would also hate to be made responsible. They enjoy making others afraid of their insignificance, but what if they were important to the universe? What if the world was actually very small, and they fit neatly into it instead of being lost? There’s a lot of different ways to go here, so narrowing down one sacrifice might not be the best answer. I can’t really think of any one action that makes a person feel as though the world is small and trapping them. Giving themselves to the Buried would, probably. A direct contrast is the easiest answer.

To escape the Vast, trap yourself in a small place.

The Web- Avatars of the Web are manipulators, through and through. There are so many ways to manipulate a person that no one action could prevent you from doing that, so this one would likely vary a lot between individuals. That movie director who had people puppet him in his own house comes to mind, I think giving up your freedom like that is a good way to do it. Being paralyzed wouldn’t stop you if you used your voice to control others, and giving up both would suck, but if that’s what you need to do, then I guess it’s your choice to make. Maybe all you would need to do is let someone else tell you what to do, and fully trust them. That would be difficult, coming from the Web where everything is tied together and you know how easy it is to manipulate you.

To escape the Web, give up your autonomy.

#tma #the magnus archives #the buried #the corruption #the dark #the desolation #the end #the eye #the flesh #the hunt #the lonely #the slaughter #the spiral #the stranger #the vast #the web #tma entities #tma analysis

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untaemedqueen · 4 years

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Graceful Gods (M)

Greek God!Jeongguk x Human!Reader

WordCount: 26k (Oh ho, tuck in)

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Slight Crack, Strangers to Lovers!AU, Greek God!AU

Warnings: Marking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Begging, Praise, Multiple Orgasms, Bondage, Fellatio, Face Fucking, Big Dick!Jeongguk, Impreg Kink, Riding, Squirting, Cream Pie, Jeongguk Has Glittery Cum

A/N: THIS HAS BEEN MY BABY FOR A HOT MINUTE! I’m so fucking proud of this fic and I did so much research that my head might explode and Greek Letters will come out! Thank you to @lunarlxve and @jung-hoseok-s-airplane for beta reading it and giving me awesome feedback! Thank you to @ladyartemesia who literally pushed me to write something so awesome AND SHE MADE A FUCKING GORGEOUS BANNER. LIKE DO YALL SEE THAT?! Anyway I hope you really enjoy it because my heart is so warm for this fic!

Eros, the Greek god of love, sexual desire and attraction

“At the center of Greek mythology is a pantheon of deities who live on Mount Olympus, the highest mountain in Greece. Every aspect of human life was ruled by these deities. There were twelve main Olympians who ruled over such aspects. Olympian gods and goddesses are said to look much like women and men of this world but could also change their appearances into whatever they liked, animals and things of that nature. Most people know of the common gods, such as Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades. But, there are others such as Dionysus- the god of wine, Aphrodite- the goddess of beauty and love, and even Hermes- the god of travel, who was in fact the personal messenger of Zeus. If you’ve watched the movie Hercules you’ll-” Professor Song’s voice becomes drowned out by the snort that comes from your left. You roll your eyes before craning your neck forward to keep listening to the lecture. You’ve always had an affinity to mythology of any kind since you were a child but, as you grew up Greek mythology stood out the most to you. You became enamored with it and decided to become a mythologist. You’ve heard of these tales countless times but you could always hear them once more.

A cough comes from next to you as you listen to the tale of Hephaestus and you roll your eyes once more before putting your hand underneath your chin. You jot down notes dutifully before looking up as Professor Song begins to wrap up the class. “For the last portion of your grade, you will all be assigned to work with a partner. The theme of your project is Graceful Gods, a study on partnerships between the gods and goddesses. You may choose whichever two gods and goddesses you may like that have had a connection with one another. Now, this doesn’t mean to watch Hercules a bunch of times and comment on those relationships between cartoons.”

The class erupts into small giggles and you find yourself snorting at the lame joke. “Since I know that most of you cannot put yourselves together properly, looking at you Haeyun and Jowoon-” You giggle at his call out before paying attention again, “-you will all work with the person directly next to you at your tables.” Your eyes glance over to the long haired boy by next to you and you inwardly groan.

You know of him, of course you do. Who hasn’t heard of him on campus, he’s a fuckboy that enjoys preying on the hearts of innocent girls. To be fair, he is one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen in your life. His long black hair fell just above his chin and as he looks at you, you can see his coffee brown eyes with flecks of mocha mixed in. He smirks at you and your first instinct is to immediately swoon but you stop yourself and roll your eyes instead. His smirk only widens letting you view the way his eyes squint slightly as his head tilts. “I’m Jeongguk.”

His voice is melodic, dripping with saccharin sweetness and your body tenses up at his tone. He was smooth and of course, he knows it but you wouldn’t budge. You just wouldn’t. “Do you have a name? Or should I call you Nemesis?”

So he knows more about mythology then he lets on. You take in his posture, the way he leans back in his chair smugly, legs stretched out in front of him as he folds his arms. He has no backpack, no notebooks or anything of the sort that is required. “Hello? Nemesis?” His hand waves in front of your face and you grimace at him before pushing your chair back.

“Y/N.” Your answer is short and he nods thoughtfully at the name as if it held some sort of riddled meaning. His hand digs into his ripped black jeans before pulling out his phone. “Put your number in so I can contact you. We can meet up whenever you aren’t gagging over Ares.”

You shut your notebook before staring at the phone in his hand. “I do not gag over Ares.”

He snorts before throwing his phone into your lap, dragging his thumb over his bottom lip as he looks you over. His expression is somewhat amused before putting his fist underneath his chin, “Song was talking about him and I saw your thighs twitch, he isn’t all that by the way.” You shove your notebook into your backpack before freezing. He sounds so comfortable with this subject, it’s almost as if he knows him.

“Oh yeah? How would you know?”

“How would I know what?” He snorts, a gentle breathy noise as people begin to get up and leave the lecture hall. “How do you know that he isn’t all that?”

He stares at you for a second before laughing loudly, his eyes crinkle as his mouth opens wide showing off a dimple on his cheek. You swallow gently as your eyes scan his handsome face. You zone in on the beauty mark beneath his bottom lip and you have to rip your eyes away before licking your lips.

“Did you know that Ares is one of the most disliked gods on Olympus? He has a quick temper and nasty disposition. Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he’s the greatest guy ever. He didn’t beat Herc when he fought him. So, he was unsuccessful. He pissed off Poseidon enough to physically murder his son. He had an affair with Aphrodite! She’s a beautiful soul and he just fucking stole her away. He’s an asshole and, you can’t fucking please him to save your life!” He rants carding his fingers through his hair, and you can see a vein begin to protrude in his neck as it flushes pink. He knows a LOT about mythology it would seem. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to work on a project with him then.

“Interesting how you know you can’t please him.” You jeer as you pick up his phone. His scoff is loud before looking to the wooden floor and widening his eyes. He gives a small embarrassed chuckle as you throw his phone back into his lap. You look at his worn leather jacket before standing up. “Hit me up when you want to work on the project.”

Your eyes flicker to your phone again, looking at the black screen before scoffing. “So what he hasn’t texted you. It isn’t like he HAS too. He’s a fuckboy. He’ll do what he pleases.” You mock to yourself before stepping out of your apartment.

Your walk to the university was relatively short, your eyes flicker down as you spin your phone in hand. It’s been two days since you last saw him and you can’t stop thinking about the handsome guy. Maybe it was because he just dripped with this kind of allure that you wanted to know of. Or, maybe it was because he was so comfortable talking about things that you find interesting. You can recall when you first met Jeon Jeongguk. How you swooned at the sight of him before getting a general dislike for him.

You had heard tales of the hot guy on campus, the man that was always leather clad with tattoos and dangling earrings. You never hung with people in your university, for the simple fact that you wanted to just push past this awkward phase in your life and do what matters most to you but you did have one friend before he graduated. A certain Jung Hoseok that would take time out of his day to make sure you were alright and be a shoulder to lean on. “That’s him. That’s the fuckboy.” He whispers in your ear as you press your bag closely to your chest.

You look over as he sits on a bench, legs crossed as his arms extend over the top of the bench. He was surrounded by girls, fawning over him leaving drinks and snacks for him to eat. You scoff gently as his head turns in your direction. “Who does he think he is? The Messiah?”

He looks you over and you feel your breath catch in your throat. The first thing you notice about him is his bone structure. Underneath the beating sun you can see the way his sharp jaw calls out to you as he tilts head at you. He smirks, just the corner of his lips flick upwards and Hoseok whistles next to you. “That’s a whole meal right there, bitch.”

His golden skin sings under the sun's rays as he fixes his leather jacket. You find your body beginning to sway at his gaze before shaking your head and scoffing loudly. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me?” You narrow your eyes as he snaps his fingers, the girls begin to disperse taking themselves to class and he bows his head to you before smiling widely. You roll your eyes befo-

You’re taken out of your memory as a car horn begins to sound off loudly and you turn your head quickly to the noise before gasping. The car drives towards you without stopping and you feel your body stiffen in shock. Mind going blank as you stare at the car approaching.

“Nemesis!” You hear before your body is being shoved by a leather clad body. You feel your body become coddled to the other body before you begin to shiver with the aftereffects of your shock.

“Zeus above! Are you okay?!” You feel the body pull away before your eyes are greeted with the now familiar coffee irises of Jeon Jeongguk. His black hair falls into his eyes as his eyebrows furrow. You gasp gently before he hugs you close to him.

“Who do you think you are? Hermes? You think you can fucking fly?! How could you be so careless?” He scoffs gently before setting you down on your feet and swiping his thumb over the apple of your cheek. His touch sends a shiver down your spine and you shove him off of you before clutching your backpack to your chest.

“I-I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.” He widens his eyes before putting his hands on your shoulders, “Be careful! We shouldn’t let Hades welcome you to the Underworld any sooner than you should be.” His touch feels comforting before you clear your throat and step back away from him. “I’ll pay more attention. I’m sorry.”

He bites his bottom lip, his beauty mark on display before he is sighing gently. “Let’s get you to class, Nemesis.”

The walk towards the lecture hall was quiet and awkward as he stayed next to you. His tall form shadows yours as he puts his hand on the small of your back. You can hear girls whispering and staring and you shrink in form. He clears his throat before snapping his fingers. The whispers begin to die down and you find yourself looking up at him as he gives you a small smile. “Thank you for that back there.”

He chuckles gently before rubbing your back, “Anything for a goddess.” You tilt your head confused and he smiles widely. “Nemesis. Goddess.”

You open your mouth before nodding gently. “Right. Nemesis.” He opens the door to the lecture hall before opening his arm, “Ladies first.”

You clear your throat before walking in first and he follows shortly behind without a second glance at girls as they stare at him. “You-You never texted me.” Your voice sounds feeble and you curse yourself for it.

He laughs gently before slinging his arm over her shoulder. “You sound upset about it.” You frown before shrugging his arm off of you. “I just wondered when you wanted to work on the project. That’s all.”

He hums playfully before opening the door to Mythology Lecture Hall, “I can’t leave Nemesis waiting with bated breath.” You narrow your eyes at him as you ascend the stairs to your table.

“It’s not bated breath, I just want to get this project over and done with.” You throw your backpack on the floor before taking a seat.

You watch as he sits down next to you, legs stretched out before him as he tilts his head. His eyes roam over your form before smiling. You find your head tilting along with his before your breath hitches. He really is so handsome. You take out your notebook before watching Professor Song enter the lecture hall. You can feel his eyes on you and you pull at the hem of your shirt. Is it hot in here or is it just you?

“Just text me when you want to work on it.” You mumble before pulling at the collar of your shirt. “Yes, ma’am.”

You stare at your television, Chinese takeout in hand as you spin the chopsticks around. Your mind begins to drift, thinking about your new lab partner. He knows so much about the subject and yet, he pays absolutely zero attention. It’s very interesting. So interesting in fact that it’s hindering you from watching the latest episode of your favorite television show. Your feet kick up on the small wooden coffee table before looking up at the ceiling. He was annoying, that much is sure. He was so smug and sure of himself and it’s irritating but you’ve never given him a second glance since taking this class and it’s been almost a year already. He was gorgeous, you’ll give him that. His sharp jaw and those coffee brown eyes that remind you of a doe. His long black hair that you really wouldn’t mind running your fing-

You’re pulled from your thoughts as a small feline body crawls across the loveseat and onto your lap. “Artemis, you scared me.” You whisper before petting the top of her head and turning your attention back to the television. Jeon Jeongguk is an enigma, a fuckboy enigma and you’ll complete the project and be on your way.

You cross the green grass lawn of the university before parking yourself underneath the same tree you always do. No one ever seemed to come to this secluded area, nor did people really seem interested in sitting underneath a weeping willow tree that hasn’t been taken care of probably since the university was created. But, you liked it, you liked the free nature of it and always take your place under it before class. As you fold your legs underneath you, you take out your book of choice for the day. The Iliad. You’ve read it many times before this but the story never seems to get old.

“Where was I?” It’s a sin to dog flap pages and it always will be. Your eyes find the page and you smile to yourself.

“Hera seduces Zeus.” You mumble to yourself, finger trailing over the many lines of text before finding it. Your eyes light up and you tuck in for a good, quiet read before you hear the fluttering of wings nearby. A dove lands before you and you tilt your head to it as it sits down on the grass before you as if it’s studying you. Your nose wrinkles and you look back down at your book, “Would you like me to read to you? It’s a very interesting book. It’s about the Trojan War. It’s from a book called The Iliad.”

The bird makes no move and you shrug before clearing your throat and leaning against the trunk of the tree. “Hera of the golden throne looked down as she stood upon a peak of Olympus and her heart was gladdened at the sight of him who was at once her brother and her brother-in-law, hurrying hither and thither amid the fighting. Then she turned her eyes to Zeus as he sat on the topmost crests of many-fountained Ida, and loathed him. She set herself to think how she might trick his thinking, and in the end she deemed that it would be best for her to go to Ida and array herself in rich attire, in the hope that Zeus might become enamored of her, and wish to embrace her. While he was thus engaged a sw-”

“Why’re you reading to a bird?” The voice makes you jump and you look up as a hand curls around the trunk before revealing the owner of the voice. You sneer at his handsome face as he sits down next to you.

“I didn’t invite you to sit next to me. And, it’s not just a bird it’s a dove.” His eyes flicker over to it before narrowing his eyes. “Yeah… I see that.”

With the roll of his eyes, he goes to shoo the bird away but it stands its ground making him huff out annoyed. You’ve never seen such a brave bird, how interesting. “Why’re you reading this?”

He takes the big book from your hands and you fold your arms as he skims through the pages before slamming it shut. The echo resounds through the lawn and you scowl at him. He smirks before holding up the book and you notice how veiny his tattooed arms are. “I can tell you more than this book could, I’m sure.”

“Oh? Could you? When you never take notes in class or even pay attention? I think last week I heard you snoring next to me.” You mumble before pulling the book out of his hands and pressing it to your chest as if it was protection from the attractive man in front of you. “Yeah but that lesson was on Dionysus, that’s boring shit. He’s a drunk partier big whoop.”

He’s doing it again, talking like he knows them personally. “I’ll bet you twenty bucks I can tell you more about The Iliad without having to even open the book.” You raise an eyebrow at his brazen words before letting your legs stretch out and you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to your bare legs as your dress rides up as you move. Frazzled, Jeon?

“I’ve read this book a handful of times. I want to do this as a job, you do realize that? You can’t lie to me.” He copies your actions, hands pressing the ground behind him as he stretches. His foot presses against yours and the dove walks closer.

“Oh my gods! Would you please get lost?!” He asks the dove loudly who just sits down closer to the both of you. You snort before looking back over at him. “Twenty bucks.”

His tongue sweeps over his perfectly shaped lips before smirking. “You’re on Nemesis.”

“Who does Zeus send a dream to, to attack Troy?” Jeongguk rolls his eyes before giving a fake yawn.

“Agamemnon. Next, what is this kindergarten?” You open your mouth surprised at his answer before shaking your head and clearing your throat.

“While fighting who does Diomedes kill?” That’ll stump him, it’s a trick question.

“He killed many Trojans but the only one he killed of any importance was Pandaros. Who before you get snippy was an aristocrat and not a god or goddess.” You frown before your fingers begin to skim the back of your book. He sure knows his stuff.

“Ah! Who drove back the Trojans?!”

“Oh good gods above. Achilles. Who cut like, half the population of them at the river Skamandros. The river became filled with them and I hear it also smelt like shit.” You giggle gently at his joke before sighing and digging in your bag. You grab your wallet before pulling out a twenty dollar bill. “Here. Go buy your girls ice cream or something.” He snatches up the bill with a wide smile before it falters.

“Girls? What girls?” He folds his arms, hand crumpling up the bill of cash before tilting his head. His eyes are alight with confusion and you find yourself stuttering as you shove your book back into your bag. “You fuck like half the campus, Jeongguk. Everyone knows this.”

“Oh, do they now? How are you so well informed about this information if you stay by yourself all the time like Oizys?” Calling you the goddess of misery and suffering? You scoff gently before standing up, “I have ears and eyes also I’m not Oizys. I just like to be by myself.”

He hums playfully as you walk away, “You’re right, Nemesis! Sorry!” He chuckles to himself as the dove flies onto his lap. “Mother, can you go away? You’re embarrassing me, Zeus above.” He stands up quickly before calling after you.

“Nemesis! Wait up! You mad I didn’t text you yet?”

He chased you all the way to the lecture hall before taking his seat next to you. You pull out your notebook and pen before looking over at him. Empty handed yet again. You snort before giving Professor Song your attention as he enters the room.

“Today we’re going to be talking about Apate.” Jeongguk gasps gently next to you. “Your sister.” You roll your eyes at him before turning your head.

“I’m not Oizys. Shut up.” He snickers before leaning closer to you, “She’s a bitch anyway. You aren’t, you're just...sheltered and cute.”

You frown at his statement before paying attention to Professor Song, the cap of the pen purchased between your teeth as you narrow your eyes at the white board.

“Apate- the goddess of deceit was the daughter of Nyx, the personification of night. Apate was the sister of several others such as Oizys- the goddess of suffering, Geras- the god of old age, Moros- the embodiment of doom and many others of that nature-” Song’s voice becomes drowned out as you hear Jeongguk’s chair scrape closer to yours. You could feel his breath fanning your face, he was so close and you stuck your neck out to try and pay attention. His smell was intoxicating, the smell of honey, pine and something else that you couldn’t put your finger on. Something that pulled your body towards his as if he was your polar magnet.

“Did you know that Apate once gifted Dionysus with buckets of wine to distract him from giving Ariadne a crown but it didn’t work?” Jeongguk whispers in your ear, your body shudders at his smooth voice. Goosebumps grace your skin as you side eye him, his long black hair falls into his eyes as he smirks. His tongue licks over his lips and you suddenly find yourself questioning how he would taste.

You squeeze your eyes shut as he leans into your ear, “I can teach you a lot more than Song, if you let me.”

There was nothing in books about the tale that Jeongguk just told and yet, you find yourself believing him. You open your mouth to speak before you hear a throat clear. “Jeongguk, since you happen to know so much you feel the need to talk, why don’t you tell us about the tale of Hera and Zeus?”

You cringe before looking over at him, he fixes his leather jacket before leaning back in his seat. All of the lecture hall is looking at your table and you feel yourself shrinking in your seat. “The tale of Hera and Zeus? He cheated on his wife. So Hera begged Apate to get revenge for her, but Apate made her beg on her hands and knees before agreeing. Semele had Dionysus, the drunken little idiot and Apate gave Hera a magical girdle. She tricked Semele into asking Zeus to see his real self and then Semele died because of it. Humans cannot view gods in their true forms. Their little brains can’t handle it. Oh! Also, when Semele died it rained with thunder and lighting for a year.”

Professor Song’s jaw opens in shock before raising an eyebrow, “That’s sort of how it went. There’s nothing in books about rain and the getting on hands and knees part.” Jeongguk shrugs before looking back over at you and smiling. He’s weird.

“Just...pay attention and no talking Jeon Jeongguk.” He salutes the professor before his leather jacket begins to sag under weight. He digs into his pocket and produces a bag from his jacket pocket. His eyes light up and you look at the woven bag that has a dainty string around it. He stomps his feet happily before looking at you and wrinkling his nose. He opens the bag before pulling out an apple and then another. He puts an apple on your lap before biting his. You watch as the sweet juice coats his lips before dribbling down his chin. It was something simple that has your insides coiling. Fuck, he was too hot for his own good.

“Eat it. Don’t refuse my gift. I’ll be sad.” He says before nodding his head to the apple on your lap. You pick up the apple quizzically before staring at it. You turn the apple in your hand, staring at how perfectly shaped it is. The skin shines brightly and you swallow as your mouth begins to water. It’s the most perfect piece of fruit you’ve ever seen. “It’s from my aunt's special garden. They’re really good.” He whispers as Song looks over.

You shrug before biting into the apple, the sweet taste spreads over your taste buds and your eyes widen. This is the sweetest piece of fruit you’ve ever tasted. “Wow.” You whisper before putting your hand to your chin to wipe off the juices. Jeongguk watches you with amusement before nodding to himself. Like he’s made his own executive decision on something.

“I’ll text you later, want to come over to my apartment to work on the project?” You had almost forgotten all about it before noticing that people are leaving the lecture hall. Class was already over? You were so into your interaction with Jeongguk you hadn’t noticed time fly by so quickly. It wasn’t such a good idea to bring him over your apartment, Artemis doesn’t like very many people. “Sure. Hit me up.”

10:32 Unknown Number: Nemesis, good evening.

You snort to yourself as you lay in bed. You turn on your side, hand sliding underneath your head as you add his number to your phone.

10:33 You: Hello.

You didn’t know how to feel about him after today. He was always deemed a fuckboy but he doesn’t really seem like the type if you’re being quite honest with yourself. It’s always just what you had heard in passing but watching him get so childlike and excited over an apple? It seemed like he was a bit different. Not to mention his knowledge of Greek mythology was absolutely incredible and you find yourself liking that he likens all of the gods and goddesses like his friends or family. It’s something comfortable to you.

10:34 Hades: Want to come over to work on the project?

10:34 You: That works for me, I don’t have many classes this week.

10:35 Hades: Perfecto. Anyone you want to choose for the project?

You set the phone down before tapping your fingernails against the back. Who would this project even be about? You hadn’t really given it much thought. You do enjoy a lot of different relationships between the gods and goddesses but your favorite would probably have to be Eros and Psyche. Wouldn’t hurt to see if he was up for it.

10:38 You: Eros and Psyche?

You settle yourself in for bed before looking back down at your phone. He left you on read. You frown before typing to him once more.

10:40 You: We can choose others if you prefer, it was just a suggestion.

10:41 Hades: See you soon, Nemesis.

You stare at the phone before sucking a sharp breath between your teeth and tilting your head. Now, you weren’t an expert at texting but something felt wrong. His answer seemed clipped and you wonder why. Did you hurt his feelings or something? You frown before throwing your phone on the charger and staring up at the ceiling. Enigma Jeon Jeongguk.

You saw him the next day on the lawn of the university. He was by himself for once, not surrounded by girls or gifts near him. You hid behind the weeping willow tree as you surveyed him. He sat down on the green grass near the tree, pulling at the blades of grass with his head tilted. A dove lands at his feet and he smirks at it before putting his fist underneath his chin. “Hello.” His voice is small as he leans back on his hands. He seems different somehow today, like he was in deep thought over something.

“Remember I told you that I had a lab partner to work on a project with?” He’s talking to the dove, like a crazy person. He takes off his leather jacket before laying it on the ground and throwing his body on to it. “She wants to work on Eros and Psyche.”

He stays quiet for a minute before clicking his teeth, “I’m not mad at her or anything. I really like her. She’s funny and cute, interesting.” You feel a blush begin to heat up your cheeks and you sit on the ground behind the tree before pressing your head back to it. “She seems really sweet and she’s very smart and nice.”

He sighs before ripping up a blade of grass, he groans loudly before putting the palms of his hands to his eyes. “No! I’m going to do what I want without your advice for once! We all know what happened the last time you fucking talked to a woman I liked!”

He likes you? You stop breathing as you go wide eyed. Heart hammering in delight you press your backpack tighter to your chest before smiling. Even if he was claimed to be this famed fuckboy, your heart feels a bit lighter knowing that he enjoys your presence.

“Just let me figure out if she likes me first. Zeus above!” He sits up before pulling his jacket back on, as he walks towards the lecture hall. He spots your legs behind the tree before stilling. You stomp your feet on the ground and he begins to smirk before heading off.

A few days later he has texted you his address. That was it. Just the address and nothing else. You can’t help but think you fucked up with that text and you don’t even know how you did it. You had put on comfortable clothes, although your brain was telling you to wear something cuter for god knows what reason. Something about this guy pulled you to him and you are unsure how to feel about it. You’ve never been this way before, you’ve only ever just went about life on your own. But you do know one thing all you have to do is just get this project done and get it over with. That’s all you can hope to do.

Standing in front of his apartment you can smell those same smells you smelt on him yesterday. You could feel your legs quivering for some unknown reason and you lean against the door jamb to collect your breath. You were nervous to be alone with him in such a small space. That’s what you think anyway, but knowing that if you knock on this door right now and he’ll appear makes your heart begin to hammer with delight. You groan gently before making a fist and taking a deep breath. Get the project done and over with.

You knock on the door before teetering on one foot to the other as you hold your breath. “Coming!” The voice is not of Jeongguk and you tilt your head before releasing your breath.

The door swings open and a handsome man stands before you. Smiling widely as his eyes squeeze shut before tilting his head.

“Y/N?” You nod slowly as you take him in. He had deep blue hair, dark chocolate eyes, a bright smile and the most plush pink lips you’ve ever seen in your life. He was dressed casually, just blue jeans and a black hoodie and even that seemed sensual. He dripped allure and effervescence as he stepped out of the way. “Come in, Jeongguk is in the shower.”

As you enter, setting your shoes off to the side you let out a low whistle at their apartment. The walls were made of marble, stone pillars in random places that exuded richness. Everything was gold, the furniture, the statues placed on stands and even the filigree of the walls. The blue haired boy walks past you before jumping onto the gold couch and smiling widely as he picks up a glass from the coffee table in front of him. “Wine? I’ve got the good stuff.” You swallow, looking around the living room with a dropped jaw before looking at the man on the couch.

They’re fucking rich! You notice a dove perch onto the statue of Aphrodite in the corner and suddenly your nodding to the man. “Yes. Wine.” He smiles widely before jumping up, “I’m Jimin by the way. Jeongguk is my cousin.” You nod in amusement before walking towards the Aphrodite statue.

The statue is pure gold, glimmering underneath the lights of the large chandelier that hangs from the ceiling. The dove bows its head down at you and you smile before waving at it. It looks just like the dove from the great lawn. You reach out to touch the statue before pulling your hand away, it’s almost like you’re in a museum of some sort. There’s a loud purr that catches your attention and you turn your head to the noise before yelping. “That’s Adoneus.” Jimin says cheerily and you narrow your eyes at him.

“That’s a lynx.” He nods happily before handing you the glass of wine, the lynx approaches you and you stiffen as it rubs its head against your thigh. “He’s really friendly, don’t worry. He was a present from my father.”

He pats the seat beside him before widening his smile at you, his eyes completely disappearing. You find comfort in his smile and you find yourself doing so as well before sitting down next to him. Leaning back you take in his black hoodie for the first time before noticing the thyrsus printed on the front.

“Do you like Greek mythology too?” You find yourself asking before you could stop yourself. He laughs gently, a short melodic noise before Adoneus sits at his feet. His fingers curl underneath the cat's chin before tilting his head to you. “You could say I embody Greek mythology, Y/N.”

You take a sip of the wine before widening your eyes, “Good, right? I have the best grapes on the planet.” The taste held so many undertones you couldn’t put your mind on any of them besides one. One that you couldn’t name that you smelt on Jeongguk the day before. “It’s delicious.”

Jimin hums at your compliment before pointing at the gold caddy by the Dionysus statue in the corner of the room. “I have something else you should try too.”

The crystal vase holds some sort of thick looking honey and you lean forward as he stands up. “It’s the most delicious thing to drink besides my wine. Look, I’ll give you some.” He stands tall before brushing off his pants. His feet pad over to the caddy before flipping over a gold goblet. The glass cork is pulled from the vase and you swallow as he begins to pour the drink. It’s thick, taking it’s time to fall into the cup. “Is it honey?”

He smirks before topping off the glass and holding it out. “Come.” You go to stand before hearing a hall open in the doorway.

Jeongguk appears, shirtless with a towel hung around his neck before narrowing his eyes at the situation in front of him. “Do not drink that. Jimin, please.” Jimin chuckles before putting down the glass. “Y/N seems fun! That’s all.”

You swallow thickly before looking over Jeongguk’s naked upper half. He had an eight pack underneath his golden toned skin, small droplets of water grace his skin as he leaned against the door frame of his room. “Come on Nemesis. Leave Jimin to drink and have fun on his own.”

Jimin laughs loudly at your nickname before walking back over to the couch and his huge cat. “Nemesis? Seems more like a Psyche to me.” You watch as Jeongguk grimaces before grabbing your wine glass and walking towards him. The closer you get, the tighter your throat gets. Chest restricting as his muscles clench and lax with every breath. You can see his tattoos clearer now, all symbols of Greek mythology. The one that catches your attention the quickest is the dove holding a rose in its beak over his heart. He smirks at you and you find it hard to stand still, knees beginning to quake underneath his molten gaze. He raises his arm above your head letting you enter the room and you thank him quietly before entering. His bed was white with a gold headboard. The room smelt of pine and apples as you stand awkwardly in the doorway. “Come.” His voice is gentle as he passes you to sit by the bed. His arm brushes against yours and you stiffen at the touch.

“I’m sorry.” You say quickly and he raises an eyebrow drying his hair with the towel. “Sorry? For what?”

Your feet shuffle towards the end of his bed before clearing your throat. “The other day, you didn’t text me back after I suggested Eros and Psyche and I’m sorry if I upset you.” He tuts his tongue to the roof of his mouth gently before patting the spot beside him. “I’m not mad at you, don’t be silly. Come, sit.”

His tone is soft and you find yourself sitting on the edge of his bed before looking around. He had portraits of gods and goddess littered around the walls and the same kind of gold caddy like in the living room nestled in the corner underneath a statue of Eros. “The story of Eros and Psyche is boring. I’d rather pick something else to do.”

His admission calls your attention and you can’t help but look at his chest as he leans back on his hands. You have to literally rip your gaze away from him as he begins to smirk. “Boring? It’s a great love story.” He snorts loudly before putting his head back.

“It wasn’t how the story goes. Anyway, I don’t want to do that so can we please just find something else to do?” His tone holds a venom that makes you recoil within yourself before nodding shortly. “Sure.”

“Hades and Persephone?” You find yourself asking before looking back down at his chest. His skin looks so smooth, if you could only just-

“Some other group will surely do it. We have to do something unconventional and fun. But, nothing with Zeus because he’s a hoe.” You giggle at his joke before licking your lips and looking at his eyes as he winks at you. Your neck heats up and you can feel your ears begin to burn. Your eyes are drawn to his abs again and you clear your throat as your mind begins to get warped with intrigue.

“Can you put on a shirt, please?” It comes out a frail whisper and he tilts his head before chuckling.

“You can touch them if you want.” He grabs your wrist before putting them on his stomach. His skin is as smooth as you thought, you can feel his abs flex underneath your fingers and your bottom lip purchases between your teeth. Your fingertips press into the muscles and you can hear a strangled noise in the back of his throat, your stomach unfurls in need before you come back to your senses.

You rip your hand out of his grip before clearing your throat and looking at the Eros statue in the corner. “Please, put a shirt on.” He rubs your shoulder comfortingly before standing up, “Yes ma’am.”

You had both decided to work on Hephaestus and Aphrodite, working with Jeongguk was quite simple, actually. He was funny and told you funny stories that almost sounded real. You found yourself becoming incredibly comfortable with him throughout the evening you spent together. It made the image of him being a fuckboy seem almost impossible.

“Hephaestus isn’t as ugly as the books say, you know. One time when I was little, I sa- I heard that he looked like a monster but he’s just constantly covered in soot and grease from metalworking. Aphrodite is just never happy if she doesn’t get what she wants.” He mutters before biting the apple in hand. You hum playfully before stretching your legs out next to him as you both lean against the headboard of his bed. “You sure know a lot about these people.”

He smiles into his bite before pointing at your notebook. “We have a lot of material already. We can just chill if you like, you’re cool. I’d like to spend more time with you.” You blush at his admission before closing your notebook, “Sure.”

He looks at your wine glass before grabbing it and standing. “I’ll get you more Jimin juice.” You giggle before nodding. As he leaves a body walks by the door before stopping. “Oh? Human. Hello!”

He had silver hair and gold eyes as he wrinkled his nose at you. You swallow at his handsome features, a perfectly sculpted nose and strong jaw. You wave back at him as he smiles widely, the form almost resembling a box before Jimin stops next to him in the hallway. “This is Jeongguk’s brother. Anter- Taehyung! Taehyung!” Taehyung waves once more before clearing his throat.

“She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” His head turns to his cousin and you find yourself blushing at his compliment. Jimin nods happily before turning to you. “You’re very welcome here, Psyche.”

Jeongguk arrives behind the two boys in his doorway and his jaw tightens, “Will you guys get lost please? And stop calling her Psyche.” He steps inside of the room, “She’s nothing like that fucking bitch. Get lost.” The door swings shut in their faces and you raise an eyebrow as he turns back around to you, black hair falling into his eyes. He smiles before handing you the glass of wine.

“Wanna watch Hercules?!” He asks cutely before jumping back on the bed, you sip the wine before giggling. “Sure.”

“It’s been a real slice.” Jeongguk mumbles along with Meg as you both stare at the television. You can’t help but snort as he side-eyes you. He was nothing like a fuckboy, you’ve decided this within the hour you’ve been watching the movie. “Why does everyone call you a fuckboy?”

He looks over at you before slinging his arm over your shoulders and pausing the movie. “Maybe because I’m really hot.” You blush as he squeezes your shoulder, his face moves closer to yours and you find your breath hitching in your throat. “Maybe because they're liars that just say I’ve fucked them to gain popularity.”

“B-But, you never stop them or tell them to stop.” Your voice sounds weak as he brushes his hair out of his eyes. “Why should I deprive someone of a fantasy? I’m not cruel. If every girl was like you then they would have gotten me.”

His stare is molten, his pupils blowing out as he looks down at your lips. The compliment makes your body stiffen before you’re ripping your gaze away from his. “You-You-” He pulls away before laughing gently, “Relax, Nemesis. I’m not trying to make you have a heart attack.”

You feel your palms begin to sweat as he takes the empty wine glass out of your hand. His thumb drifts across your cheek and you feel your body heat up underneath his touch. His tongue swipes across his lips before he’s turning back on the movie. “Pain and Panic are so annoying.”

You find yourself getting drowsy towards the end of the movie, your arms and legs dully whine as you move. You find your eyes fluttering shut as Hercules dives into the Underworld to save Meg. Jeongguk looks over at you as your eyes fully shut before wrinkling his nose. His hand reaches over quietly to the side drawer of his bedside table before grabbing a velvet bag. His fingers pinch the dust inside of it before gently blowing it at your face. “Dream well, pretty girl.”

He stands tall before stretching and looking at you, your hands press against your chest like a defense mechanism even in your sleep. He pulls the covers over you before opening the window. He whistles gently before looking over at your sleeping figure. “You’re not like Psyche. You would trust me, right?” Wings flutter drawing his attention back to the windowsill before leaning down as a rooster perches on the ledge.

“Tell Morpheus to send this one sweet dreams of me.” The rooster quirks its head to the side before bowing its head and flying off. The window is sealed shut before Jeongguk leans his back against the window and folds his arms. A smile spreads over your face as you sleep and he wrinkles his nose. He realized how much he did indeed like you, you were different. And, it’s been a very long time since he’s felt drawn to a woman. “Come to me, Y/N.”

Jeongguk throws himself on the couch before slinging his legs onto his brother's lap. “Very nice by the way Jimin, just call Taehyung Anteros in front of everyone, why don’t you?” Jimin rolls his eyes before pouring himself a glass of nectar.

“I slipped up, sue me. Anteros doesn’t come by every day, I forgot his Earth name. Maybe when Y/N comes out, I’ll slip up and call you Eros.” Jeongguk sneers at his cousin before relaxing into the couch. Taehyung smiles happily before sipping his own drink. “She’s sleeping? She seems very nice. Shy and sweet.”

Jeongguk watches how his brother's golden eyes dilate as he talks of you. “Watch it. She’s not for you.” Jimin laughs gently before sitting in the gold armchair next to them. “Seems like we’ll get a replay of Psyche.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes before stretching his arms over the top of the couch. “Y/N would trust me, whereas Psyche did not. Don’t compare them, Y/N is different. She seems to not have an ill intentioned bone in her body.” Jimin hums before nodding, “She’s very nice. I agree. I heard the wings of Hermes earlier, what was he doing here?”

“I called on him.” Taehyung looks over at Jeongguk before raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

“For Morpheus to send her sweet dreams.”

“Of you?”

“Of me.”

Waking up wasn’t usually this difficult but you didn’t want to wake up from this dream. Your mind knew it was time to get up but you couldn’t help but will yourself to stay in this dream.

Laying upon a marble table in the middle of a field of wheat, your hands graze over Jeongguk as he straddles you. His smirk is broad as he hums gently. “You are a goddess.” His body bows down, chest and stomach muscles rippling as his full lips graze over your jaw. Your eyes flutter shut under the lavender sun. Your body singing with want as his hands run over your bare sides. You were completely bare underneath him and you felt no embarrassment, as if that emotion did not exist with this god above you. “You taste like berries from the Elysian Fields, so sweet.”

His lips leave small petals of pinks and reds on your skin as his hands cup your breasts gently. His hands knead them gently and you can’t help but hear birds begin to sing as his tongue flicks at your stiffening nipples. Your fingers card through his black locks before gasping as he suckles sweetly at your areola. Back bowing off of the marble table as he spreads your legs with his large hands.

Your eyes open to watch the god lavish upon you, his touch feels electric against your skin. Sending shockwaves of want to your core. His lips trail lower, eyes on yours as he nips playfully at the skin of your stomach. “Eros, want you.”

His eyes glimmer with amusement before licking across your bare pubic bone. “Do you now? You want me? Here?” His fingers caress your pussy lips and a mewl is coaxed from your lips. You feel your arousal dripping on to the marble table beneath you and you squirm underneath him. His chuckle has you whimpering as he bows his head back down. “So wet, Zeus above.”

He curses under his breath before licking a flat swipe over your folds. Your moans resound throughout the wheat field as his hands grip at your thighs. “Sweet like Ambrosia.”

His full lips suckle at your engorging clit, the tip of his tongue flicking it gently as white hot pleasure courses through your veins. “Look at me, goddess. Watch me.” His tone is commanding and your eyes snap to his as his pupils blow out with lust.

His suckles become stronger, your stomach beginning to tighten as a finger swirls around the ring of muscle of your sex. “Eros!”

“Yes, goddess?” His tongue is playful and as he lifts his head you can see your arousal coated on his chin and cheeks. The sight makes your eyes roll back as you lift your hips.

“More. Want more, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His finger enters you slowly, the full feeling making you whine as he gets back to work. You feel as light as air as he pumps his finger into you slowly, his tongue circling around your clit before flicking at a quick pace. Your moans fill the field as doves begin to fly overhead, lightning cracks above and you find yourself reaching the precipice of your pleasure.

Another finger is added as he expertly curls them within you, finding the soft patch of muscles that have your back lifting off of the table. “Guk! Jeongguk! Yes! Yes!” He moans against you, a gravelly wanton sound that makes your stomach tighten tighter. “Cum for me goddess, shower me in your pleasure.”

Your toes curl as your mind begins to get fuzzy, his name both Eros and Jeongguk pour from your lips as your eyes screw shut. “I'm cumming! Fuck! Eros!” As you fall over the edge, birds begin to sing louder. Your pleasure starts at your heart before spreading-

You jump awake, a sheen of sweat gracing your body. Your head feels fuzzy and heavy as you gasp gently at your surroundings. You fell asleep here?! Idiot! And, that dream...Fuck… That dream was… Something else. Your eyes find the Eros statue in the corner before narrowing at it. “Get out of my subconscious.”

You hear shuffling outside of the room door and you find yourself aware that you should not be here. How could you just fall asleep in Jeongguk’s bed?! Speaking of the god...man. Speaking of the man, where is he? You go to stand before feeling how soaked your panties are and you groan gently. How embarrassing!

As if he had heard your thoughts, the bedroom door opens revealing the handsome man you had just dreamed of. "Good morning, Nemesis." You watch as he lifts a cup to his lips, the veins in his arm protruding as he smirks against the lip of the cup. His coffee irises dance with delight as he looks upon your figure. You begin blushing, your mind reeling back to the dream that felt so intensely real. "I-I'm sorry I fell asleep!"

You stand up quickly, hands frantically trying to smooth out your hair as Jeongguk leans against the door jamb. "Oh no, it's cool watching Herc rescue his lover gets me sleepy sometimes too." You can't help but stare as his tongue sweeps across his lips. Thinking back to your dream, his tongue felt so amazing on the most intimate part of you. You grab your backpack off the floor before pulling at the hem of your dress.

"I'll-I'll get going. Sorry." He furrows his eyebrows before watching as you teeter on your feet awkwardly. "I can make you breakfast if you want."

His fingers curl around the cup and you swallow thickly as if you could feel them inside of you. "I have to go!" You shove past him, coffee spilling from the cup to his chest as you barrel towards the door.

"Y/N?" He calls confused as you grab your shoes from beside the door. "See you in class."

He takes in a deep breath before opening his mouth as you meet eyes once more. "Hey Y/N, wait-" You open the door quickly before scurrying out without another word. How could you have such a dream?!

Jeongguk scoffs gently as Jimin peeks out of the kitchen, "I made her Ambrosia buttered toast!" He wipes at his coffee covered chest before looking at his cousin. "Where's the key?"

Jimin sets the plate down gently before widening his eyes, "Key? No. No! Eros!"

His bare foot taps rapidly against the marble floor before holding out his hand as his jaw tightens. "Give me the key, Dionysus."

Jimin whines loudly before trudging out of the kitchen towards his room. "Aw man! My father is going to kill me when he sees my hair." He mumbles pushing past Guk to go to his room.

Both men stand at the end of the hallway, the gold key jumping from knuckle to knuckle as Jeongguk stands at the wooden closet door. “Any last words?” Jimin clears his throat before looking at his cousin.

“Maybe just forget about it?” He gives a nervous laugh, in turn Jeongguk rolls his eyes before putting the key in the lock. A large boom resounds throughout the apartment as he turns the key and Jimin whimpers before chugging the contents of his wine glass. The walls vibrate as if they’ve turned to jelly and he takes a deep breath before shoving open the door.

“Oh gods.” Jimin whines loudly sticking his head past the door frame as clouds make a staircase towards a ray of shining light. Jeongguk steps past the door frame before looking down at his clothes as they shimmer and change. The chiton that appears on his body is lightwear and the color of a white sheep. He sighs before looking at Jimin, who in turn, changes from his hoodie and sweatpants to a chiton the color of wine. “Oh fuck! Dude! Let’s just go back inside, hmm?”

“I need to speak with Morpheus, he fucked me over.” His cousin whimpers before the sounds of harpsichords begin to resound throughout the air. “They know we’re here anyway.”

Without a second thought he walks over the clouds, the white wisps licking at his ankles before disappearing all together, his foot raises before stepping onto the staircase and closing his eyes. “Here we go.”

Mount Olympus was bustling today, gods and goddesses walking around on the stone ground not giving a glance at the two boys as they crossed the gold gates. Jeongguk’s mouth opens, eyes lifting up to look at the scenery he hasn’t seen for years. Stone pillars litter the pantheon, temples and mansions as far as the eye could see. Stone slabs of jagged and large rocks hold up the floating islands far and wide and he finds himself folding his arms before smirking.

“I knew you would come!” The sound is melodic, the voice making him feel at home as his head turns to his mother. “Mother!”

She floats forward, hair pinned underneath a gold crown as she extends her flowing arms. Jeongguk’s heart swells before enveloping her in a hug and spinning her around. She smells of ambrosia and roses and he feels immediately comforted. She steps back before placing her hands on his handsome face, shaking him around before smiling widely. “My son.”

He hums as Jimin steps closer to him as a bolt of lightning ricochets through the sky. “Shit man.” Jimin holds out his hand before a goblet of wine produces and he guzzles the drink greedily as the white clouds begin to turn a dark grey. “Why have you come?”

Aphrodite’s voice is filled with glee as Jeongguk slings his arm over his mother's shoulders. “I must speak with Morpheus.” She hums playfully before pinching his chin and wiggling his face. “We like her, yes?”

Jeongguk chuckles before pulling her with him, leaving Jimin alone. “Yes, we like her. Quite a bit actually.”

“Eros! Wait up! Please!” Jeongguk chuckles before opening his arm as Jimin rushes to him. “Big bad Zeus is going to light up the sky until you go see him. He birthed you after all.” Aphrodite’s voice is playful as all three stop as Pegasus crosses their path.

“Nice to see you diaper wearing boy.” The deep voice is a welcome one as his eyes look up at Heracles mounted upon his horse. “Herc. Pleasure, I’m sure.”

“Bro! You gotta help me out! Dad is going to flip when he sees my hair!” Jimin calls to his brother before pulling at his blue strands. Heracles laughs loudly before holding out his hand to Jimin. “Get on, you’ve been summoned.”

With the stomp of his foot he grips the big hand before getting hauled on to the back of the winged horse. “Hey, Eros! One hour Olympus time, please!” He begs his cousin, wanting to get out of this realm as soon as possible.

Jeongguk chuckles as his mother smooths out his black hair, pinning it behind his ear. “That’s if you don’t get struck down first.” The horse flaps its wings before Jimin’s scream is heard as the horse takes off without a second thought.

Jeongguk walks along the roads with his mother, head bowing down to the gods and goddesses that’s eye contact lingers for more than a few seconds. He was the god of love, sexual attraction and desire after all. His hand reaches out for a ceramic vase, one only that could be crafted by the great Hephaestus before the sound of winged boots draws his attention to the clouded sky. “Hey you!”

“Hey yourself Hermes!” Aphrodite giggles gently before sitting down on a marble bench, legs crossing demurely as she leans back watching the interaction. Hermes appears, slowly floating off of the ground before pointing his staff at the god of love. “Morpheus is looking for you!”

“And I him. Care to lead the way?” Hermes hands him a pair of flying boots before looking at Aphrodite. “Well don’t you just look ravishing today. The Elysian Fields could not compare.”

“You flatter me, Hermes.” She produces a rose before handing it to the handsome trickster. Jeongguk tuts his tongue before narrowing his eyes at the man. “Easy now, that’s my gorgeous mother you’re trying to play with.”

He kisses his mother on the cheek before smiling, “I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.” She hums to him as he puts on the boots. His eyes widen before pointing at her as he begins to ascend into the air. “Stop coming around Y/N as a dove all the time. You’re making me look bad!” She gives him a gentle wave which he can only roll his eyes at before the winged shoes are taking him to his meeting.

The home of Morpheus never ceases to amaze Jeongguk. He’s not sure if it can even be called a home, honestly. A simple canopied bed sits high above the mansions on their own cloud petastools as he lands. His bed is cocooned within swirling white puffs of clouds and Jeongguk makes it a point to clear his throat in case the god of dreams was sleeping, which in fact would usually be the case. “Eros.”

He leans against one of the bed posts before folding his arms, “I have words for you god of dreams.” The laugh he hears makes him scowl as Morpheus sits up in his bed. “Words? For me? I did you a service.”

He scoffs loudly as he pushes himself off of the bedpost. “She ran away from me, any dream you gave the poor girl must have been a nightmare.”

“Hmm? The dream. Let me see.” The grey haired man’s eyes close, eyeballs rapidly moving behind his eyelids before the corners of his mouth begin to turn upwards. “I would not consider this a terrible nightmare. I’d like to be such a man or lady in this situation.”

Jeongguk’s eyebrows furrow before holding out his hand, “Show me.”

Morpheus chuckles before a goblet of Ambrosia appears within his grasp. “I gave her the gift of a good dream and her mind created this. It is not untoward to think she scared herself.”

Jeongguk shakes his hand impatiently before hearing a sigh, Morpheus’ wings sprout from behind his back before cracking his neck and placing his hand atop the god of love. Jeongguk’s eyes closed as his head lolled back. His body shakes with pleasure before smirking at the dream as it flits across the inside of his eyelids. “Ah.”

His answer is short as he pulls away from the god before him. His hands smooth out his black hair, pinning it behind his ears before clearing his throat. “Send her more dreams, won’t you?”

Morpheus laughs loudly, his laughter mixing in with the crack of thunder as lighting bolts fly through the sky. Rain begins to scatter on the clouded ground and he can’t help but smirk. “Must hate the blue.”

“I’m sorry to waste your time. I had assumed she saw something very unpleasant within her dreams to run from me in such a way.” Morpheus chuckles before laying back down with his goblet. “Embarrassment and unpleasantness sit in two different houses underneath the sky.”

Jeongguk nods thoughtfully before looking back down at the pantheon below this high cloud. “I’ll be on my way now, Morpheus. Thank you for your time.” The grey haired man hums before closing his eyes as the winged boots begin to ascend into the air once more. “She’s got a gorgeous body.” Jeongguk murmurs to himself before flying towards the market place.

He walks through the stone street, hands behind his back as he looks at all of the stalls. A flash of light catches his eye before turning to a booth with a wide smile. “Theia.” She hums to him, sitting upon a marble bench with her ankles upon a stone stool. “Eros.”

He wrinkles his nose at her cutely and she sighs happily upon seeing his handsome face. “I haven’t seen you in quite some time, young man.”

His eyes glance over the jewelry she has laid out, “I’ve been in the mortal realm. Enjoying life down there.”

“And does Eros have a new love that shines as brightly as my jewels?” He smirks at her question before picking up a gold necklace. It shines brightly even with the drizzle of rain. Two gold chains wrap around each other, coiling gracefully and he tilts his head before looking up at her. “How much?”

“Five gold.” He nods before feeling at where his pants normally are and sighing. “Can you make an Eros pendant?”

Theia snaps her fingers and a gold pendant dangles from the necklace. He smiles at it before nodding, “That’ll be ten gold, dear boy.”

He nods before a woolen bag is thrown over his shoulder. He turns his head to his cousin who now graces black hair with a frown. “Can we go now?” He murmurs before giving Theia a small wave.

He turns back to Theia before nodding, “Before you go, why don’t you stop by Heras home. She could enchant that necklace for you.” He stops before tilting his head. It just wouldn’t be right to have the goddess of marriage charm this piece. If you want him, you’ll have him.

“That’s alright. She can make her own choices, thanks Theia!” She hums before letting out a low whistle. Her legs leave the stool before watching him saunter down the rain slick road. The necklace glimmers in his hand and she smirks before leaning back in her chair.

“Let’s go get you a glass of wine. Hmm?” Jimin nods gratefully as they cross the golden gates.

“I mean what the fuck do you even think you’re doing?! Hmm?!” You counter to yourself as you stare in the mirror of your bedroom. Your fingertip taps repeatedly against the glass as you scowl. “Uh! So what if he has a super hot fucking body and he’s really cool and sweet. Ha! Like that fucking matters. Because, news flash, idiot! It doesn’t! And, so what if he knows a lot about something that you have such a passion for?! HA! As if you’d fall for him because he has all these cute stories about y’know...Dionysus and Hephaestus…” You collect your breath as you change out of your clothes from yesterday before getting ready for class.

“I mean, y’know, too fucking bad that you had a dream where he ate you out like a champ...With his lips...trailing all over your body and birds were singing because he...he licked your clit so well...and his hair felt so soft in your-” You go wide eyed before fanning your now pink tinted cheeks. “GOD! WHATEVER SO FUCKING INFURIATING!”

You barrel towards the lecture hall, backpack to your chest for protection as your eyes flit across the green lawn. You were safe, all you need to do is make it into the lecture hall and ignore Jeongguk when he gets there. That’s it! You grumble as you stop to look at the weeping willow tree you’ve grown so fond of during your time at this university. The dove was sitting underneath it again today and you find yourself feeling guilty you didn’t spend any time with it. You wave at it with a small smile and you hear him before anything else.

His laugh is loud, a sound that you want to revel in and yet, you shrink in form before jogging over to the tree and pressing your back to it. You can hear girls giggling at what he says and you scowl before looking down at the dove. “He must really think he’s like Eros or something, huh? No wonder people call him a fuckboy if he’s so easily amused with girls.” The bird sits down, head tilting to the side as your back slides down the tree. The beady stare makes you swallow thickly before scoffing, “I’m not jealous. Don’t even think that!”

You point at the bird before frowning. This is called projecting and you’re doing a great job at it at this very second. “Just because he’s handsome doesn’t mean he has to talk to every person he sees. God, he knows what he does to people! So annoying.” Your voice tapers off into a murmur as you recall your dream. The way his tattooed hands caressed your body and showed you such attention. The way his tongue flic-

“Who’re we hiding from?” You gasp loudly as you fall over. You look up at him as he smiles widely at you, “Hi, Nemesis.”

“H-Hi, Jeongguk.” He holds out his hand and you take in his attire before grabbing it. His leather jacket, his ripped black skinny jeans, even the earrings that dangle from his ears suit him so well you find the wind being pulled from your lungs. He lifts you up easily and you find comfort in his smell. “I was going to make you breakfast this morning. Why’d you leave?”

You clear your throat as his arm slings over your shoulder, you find it bizarre how comfortable he feels beside you. “I-I… You know… Had to feed my cat and wash my...toes.” Very cool. You’re amazing at this.

“How hygienic of you.” He snickers before putting his index finger under your chin and pulling your face to look at him, “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your sleep, now would it?”

Your cheeks burn at his question before shrugging his arm off of your shoulder. “Of course not! You’re ridiculous!” Your scoff echoes throughout the lawn and he chuckles before nodding. “Yes, goddess.”

You freeze at his words before pressing your backpack closer to your chest, “Jeongguk! Could I get your number?” Your head turns to a few girls as you both approach the lecture hall building.

He smirks before slinging his arm around your shoulder, “Sorry. Busy. Got a goddess to take to class.” You smack at his hand as it squeezes your shoulder. “Come on, Nemesis.”

Sitting down at your table, you can’t help but feel your stomach coil as he scrapes his chair closer to you. The scent of pine invades your senses and you find yourself smiling as he places an apple on the table in front of you. “I brought something to impress you.”

Your eyebrow quirks up as he puts a notebook with a bow on the front cover onto the table. He smiles widely and you can’t help but giggle as he folds his arms. “This is to impress me?” He gives a small nod before opening up the page.

Will you hang out with me again?

The words catch your attention and you close the notebook cover quickly as people take their seats behind you. “Jeongguk!” Your voice is a whisper as he bites his apple. He wipes at his chin before nodding at the book.

“I want to show you something.”

“What?” You can feel the excitement radiating through your bones, as Professor Song enters the room. Butterflies begin to erupt within you as he smiles widely wrinkling his nose. “You’ll really like it. Hey, do you...have a pen?”

“You’re just going to go over there and not be a baby.” You whisper to the mirror before stomping rapidly on the floor with your foot. Your eyes peer over at the bed, flitting between the two outfits you have casually laid out for your date. No! Not date! Hang out! You’re both hanging out! You sit on the floor, head leaning back against the door before Artemis climbs into your lap. “I think I really like him.” You whisper to your cat as she curls into a ball within your lap.

“He’s not like how I thought he was at all and my heart keeps doing this stupid thing where it stops and I feel like I’m dying.” You whisper fiercely to the cat as her paw extends over your calm lazily. She yawns loudly and you scoff gently, “No yawning while I’m spilling my heart to you!”

You lift her up before looking into her sleepy eyes. “I think I really like him and I’m not afraid of it. It’s freaking me the fuck out!” She closes her eyes before you press the cat into your chest. Thinking back to all your moments spent with him, you can feel those butterflies again. Flying around without a care as a smile begins to grace your face. “I’m not afraid and it’s freaky.”

You wore something prettier for this hang out. You listened to your heart instead of your head for once and you were impressed with the outcome. Your hair falls in rivets around your shoulder before you knock on his door. “It’s open.”

Your hand turns the knob before being greeted by the familiar golden fixtures around you. “Y/N!” Jimin yells loudly as he throws his arms up, wine sloshes onto his bare chest as you giggle at him.

“Hi Jimin!” You give a small wave as Adoneus rubs his head against your thigh. “Hi!” You crouch down to rub at his head and he purrs loudly for you.

“Wine for the prettiest human alive?” He goes to stand before Jeongguk’s bedroom door opens. “Come, Nemesis. Leave the drunk alone for a while.”

“Nice hair by the way.” You comment as a dove perches on Jeongguk’s shoulder. Jimin frowns before folding his arms, “My dad made me do it.”

His grumble makes you smile as your lab partner enters the room first. He sits on the bed and you can’t help but think to yourself how truly comfortable you feel as you sit down next to him. His black hair is pushed behind his ears as he turns his head to you. “Want to go to a party?”

You frown before looking into his eyes, “A party? I’m not dressed for a party.” He hums before clearing his throat.

“I can help with that, actually. It isn’t a regular party per se. It’s more of a...family gathering.” He wants to take you to a family event? You fold your arms before raising an eyebrow as you let him continue.

“You know how I um...I always talk like I know the gods and goddesses?” You nod slowly, your mind becoming confused as you clear your throat. “Hey, Dionysus?! She’ll need some wine.”

You blink slowly before Jimin appears in the doorway in a flash. He smiles at you before holding out his empty hand. You step forward to take it, confused at the meaning before his hand shimmers and a goblet appears. You choke on your own spit, coughing loudly as you back up into the window.

“Jeongguk!” Your voice is high as your hands grip at the gold ledge of his window. “Yes, goddess?”

“He-Jimin! He-” Jimin giggles before stepping into the room and you are two seconds away from ripping open the window and flinging yourself out of it. “He’s my cousin Dionysus.”

Your gaze flickers between the two handsome men before a psychotic giggle begins to erupt in your throat. Your hands find your knees as your laugh grows louder, eyes watering as you fall to the ground. “Y/N.” Jeongguk’s voice is gentle as you shake your head.

“It’s mythology! MYTH! This is not real?! What’re you insane!?” Your giggles go dead as the dove lands on the ground in front of you before the image begins to ripple. The bird becomes a tall Asian woman with chestnut brown hair and gold eyes. You swallow thickly before wiping at your face in shock.

“This is my mother.” Jeongguk grumbles gently, Jimin rounds his mother before grabbing your hand and putting the goblet into it. “Drink it, you’ll need it.”

“Well, isn’t she just a doll.” The woman's fingers pinch at your cheeks and you feel your body begin to feel tingles at her touch.

“Mother, please do not embarrass me.” She scoffs before helping you to your feet. “I’m Aphrodite, a pleasure to meet you. My son really enjoys spending time with you.” You gasp, mouth falling open before looking at Jeongguk as his eyes squeeze shut.

You feel as if you’re in a dream, the world beginning to feel flat besides the three people in this room. Two of them who just so happen to be part of the twelve Olympian Gods! You bring the goblet to your lips before chugging it as Aphrodite giggles. “She’s funny.”

“Let me refill that for you.” Jimin snaps his fingers before your goblet is refilled and you set it down gently before rubbing your hands together. “Okay, she gets it. Can you guys just… shoo? Please?” They hum before Aphrodite kisses your cheek.

"You're very welcome. I hope to see you on high." She winks before leaving with Jimin. Your eyes widen as Jeongguk leans back on the bed. "Surprise?"

You scoff before looking at the door then back at him. Then at the door. Then him. Your finger moves with your head to both places before scoffing again. "Let me truly introduce myself. I'm Eros." The god of sexual desire and love. You swallow before fanning your face as you let out a short laugh.

"Y/N?" His tone is gentle as he stands up tall.

"It's real?! Like, you're a god?!" He hums before snapping his fingers, his casual attire turns into a royal looking chiton. He looks like everything good in this world and you find yourself clearing your throat as your eyes falter to the floor. "So you...your stories were real?! You're from Mount Olympus?!"

He opens his arms with a small smile before nodding. "Yes, Olympus is my home."

This is incredible! Astounding even! To be in the presence of a god is...unreal. "I wanted you to see me for me. I like you. Quite a bit, in fact. I thought you would understand."

He likes you?! Truly?! You hum unsurely before looking at the Eros statue in the corner and squeeze your eyes shut. "Nemesis?" Your eyes flicker to his before looking away once more.

He approaches you, hands grabbing at your arms before rubbing them gently. You feel the tingles again, you rip your arms from his before shrinking under his warm gaze. "I can make you forget this if you want...I don't want you to be afraid of me."

You weren't! You were just in shock. Completely and utterly lost not knowing what to do. "I just...need some time." He opens his mouth before nodding slowly. "Whatever you'd like, goddess." His words make you shiver and you feel your body go numb.

"I-I have a gift for you. If you'd accept it of course. I bought it from my aunt Theia. She's the goddess of-"

"Light but also the deity of gold, silver and jewels." You finish his statement and his smile makes your heart feel light as he nods. "Yes. I bought you a present if you would accept it."

His hands press into one another before light begins to seep out of the cracks. You stare in awe at his hands before he opens them to a glorious gold necklace. "Will you accept?" Your head nods stupefied before you can even think properly. He chuckles before stepping behind you.

The gold chain and pendant are chilly against your skin but as he clasps it tightly you feel like it has always belonged on you. "I need time to think."

He hums to you before hugging you from behind, "Don't run from me Nemesis, please. I like you, very much. There will be time for my family parties in the future, I hope."

Once safely inside your apartment, your body slides down the apartment door. You let out a screech before stomping the heels of your feet on the floor. “OH MY GOD!” You squeal loudly before looking up at the ceiling. This is absolutely insane! No wonder he was so fucking handsome, he was literally born from the goddess of love and beauty! And, he likes you. You! He wasn’t like how people said he is at all. Well, that is for the simple fact that they don’t know him at all! All of his fun sounding stories make them that much more incredible because they’re real. He was honestly, so kind and funny.

He wasn’t like most people and there’s one good reason for that. He wasn’t a person, he was from on high which continues to rattle your brain. You can’t find the strength in yourself to stand so you opt for crawling. Which you feel blessed to have acquired a single bedroom apartment without the need for a roommate. Would be embarrassing if someone was watching you crawl towards your bed as your cat waltzes along with you. “He’s a fucking god.” You tell your cat who in turn knocks her head into your jaw as she rubs against you. “I know! So insane!”

Laying in bed you flip your phone from one hand to the other before touching the gold necklace on your neck that you never wanted to take off ever again. It came from Mount Olympus but just knowing that while Guk was up there, he thought of you and that makes it even more special. He likes you and he wants you to spend time with him. You like him and want to spend more time with him too. Your tongue swipes across your lips before unlocking your phone. Your lungs fill with air before exhaling loudly.

9:12 You: Eros.

9:13 Hades: Goddess.

You giggle to yourself before your phone falls from your hands, smacking you in the face. You whine loudly before rubbing at your cheek as you type to him.

9:14 You: I’m done thinking.

9:14 Eros: Oh? Are you? And what does this goddess think?

9:15 You: I like you too.

Your heart begins to beat loudly, the sound filling your ears as you gasp gently. Was that wrong? Did you do the wrong thing?

You stare at your phone on the pillow beside you, eye twitching as your phone screen still stays black. You whine loudly before pressing your face into the pillow. Of course it was a dumb idea. He probably has a bunch of women, goddesses even, that adore him.

9:30 Eros: Fuck! I’m so sorry! Dionysus spilt wine everywhere, broke the fucking vase that Hephaestus made us and I had to clean it up!

You grab your phone before reading his message and smiling.

9:31 You: A vase? Where do I get a god crafted vase? I want one.

9:32 Eros: Your wish is my command, goddess.

Your doorbell goes off and you jump at the noise before tilting your head. “Hello?” Your voice is loud, echoing throughout the apartment before standing up.

“Delivery for Y/N.” The voice calls through the door. You exit the bedroom before opening the door. A man in an all brown ensemble stands before you, he has a winged shoe medallion hanging from his neck as he blows a bubble with his gum. “Hermes nice to meet you, doll face. Here.”

He thrusts the box at you before popping the bubble of gum. “H-Hermes, like the god of messages?” Your voice comes out in a squeak as he winks at you. “In the flesh. Sign here.”

You stammer on a few syllables before setting the box down and grabbing the clipboard. “Like, actually Hermes?” He nods slowly before tapping the clipboard and blowing another bubble. Your eyes glance over his attire before clearing his throat.

“Listen, Eros’ new girlfriend, I got stuff to do. Hmm? I have three people I have to guide to the Underworld in like twenty minutes so-” He taps the clipboard, “-sign the sheet so Eros doesn’t murder me in my sleep.”

You clear your throat before signing the sheet attached to the clipboard and handing it back to him. Eros’ new girlfriend? You blush brightly before pushing your hair behind your ear. “Nice to meet you, Hermes.” The blush that graces your cheeks makes him chuckle as he pulls a packet of gum from his pocket and hands you a stick. “Nice to meet you, too kid. You watch out for that diaper wearing Cupid okay? He’s got a fragile heart.”

You nod slowly as he snaps his fingers before vanishing into thin air, small flecks of gold rain down from where he was standing and your mouth opens wide before a squeal leaves you. You grab the box before trudging back into the apartment and into your bedroom. The box is heavy and with a groan you haul it onto your bed. Your fingers begin to twitch with excitement, eyes widening before hugging the box to your chest. Wow! Jeongguk is actually the coolest person you’ve ever met. Coolest god, you’ve ever met. Only god. Anyway.

You open the box before staring inside. Just the rim of the vase exuded richness and you find yourself carefully pulling it out of the box before staring at it. Beautifully glazed clay with the faces of the twelve Olympian gods stamped on the base. “Holy shit.”

Where would you even put this beautiful thing? Your phone buzzes loudly and you set the vase down gently before scrambling for your phone.

9:41 Eros: Do you like it?

9:41 You: UH YES! THANK YOU!

9:42 Eros: Haha! Anything for you, goddess. See you tomorrow!

9:43 You: Goodnight.

You did it again. You had a super sexual dream about your lab partner slash crush slash god. And, honestly, when you woke up you weren’t the least bit insecure. “He finds me attractive.” You tell your cat as you comb your hair in the mirror as you get ready for class. The cat blinks at you slowly before laying down.

“He likes me. Me! Can you believe it?! I mean, I’m not even that special or great or anything and he has a crush on me!” You scoff to yourself before smiling. You look at the time before jumping up, Aphrodite might be waiting underneath the weeping willow today.

You rush to the weeping willow only to see an Asian woman sitting down on what seems to be a blanket made of silk. You were so excited to get here and now that you are, you can feel yourself becoming smaller as she looks over at you. “Come! I’ve been waiting for you.”

You give her a shy smile before walking over and standing awkwardly next to the silk blanket. She looks up before smiling warmly and patting the spot next to her. “I don’t bite, come. Sit.”

You clear your throat gently before sitting down beside her and putting your hands in your lap. She hums before folding her legs beneath her and smiling. She holds out her hand and a golden hairbrush appears. “Well now, I like being able to spend time with my son's beloved.” You open your mouth to reply as she sections off your hair before combing through it. Her tone is gentle before she snaps her fingers and an apple falls into your lap.

“I really love these.” She wrinkles her nose sweetly as you take a bite. “Good, I’m glad you enjoy them. Do you also enjoy spending time with my son?”

Your teeth sink into the apple before stopping at her question. The back of your hand swipes across your lips before looking back at her. “Yes, I do… Is that wrong?”

She laughs gently before shaking her head. Her hand sends electrical currents through your body as she swipes her thumb over your cheek. “Not at all, little one. I just have grown so protective of him after the whole business with Psyche.” You hum before folding your arms. You recall his anger every time she was brought up and you can’t help but question why. “What happened?”

Aphrodite tuts her tongue as she continues to comb through your hair. “I think Eros should be the one to tell you. He was so heartbroken for so long and then he met you. You seem to make him smile and feel as light as air again and I do enjoy seeing him so happy.” You feel yourself beginning to blush at her admission before hugging your backpack to your chest. Her eyes flicker to your necklace before smirking, her fingertips dance over the gold before sighing happily.

“I hear a grumpy boy coming.” She whispers as if she is spilling a big secret.

“Mother.” Jeongguk’s voice is clipped and you find yourself smiling at him as he narrows his eyes at the situation at hand. “Son.”

“What’re you doing?” His voice is riddled with tension before giving you a sweet smile. His eyes narrow back at his mother as she clears her throat. “Just combing Y/N’s hair.”

“Why?” He questions before holding his hand out to you. You make no move from the goddess as she sets down the hairbrush.

“Because I wanted to. Because I like her. Is that so wrong?” He rolls his eyes before shaking his hand and you look over at her as she nods. “Go on, little one. He’s in no mood to fool around today.”

You take his hand before bowing to her as he slings his arm over your shoulders. “It was very nice to see you again, goddess.” She giggles before nodding. “The pleasure is mine. I look forward to seeing you on high.”

“Zeus above.” Jeongguk mutters before pulling you away. You give her a small wave and his hand physically turns your head to look in front of you. “Don’t be so mean! She’s the goddess of beauty!”

He chuckles gently before ruffling your hair, “Yeah well, I’m the god of sexual desire and you don’t see me begging for women to suck me every minute of the day.” You smack his hand over your shoulder as he laughs loudly.

“Come on, goddess.” As you enter the building you look over at his other shoulder, the strap of a backpack hangs loosely on his leather jacket and you point at it. “You’re wearing a backpack.”

He hums before looking down at you, “To impress you. And! I even brought a pen today.” You laugh as you both enter the lecture hall.

Being with Jeongguk is amazing. There’s no other way to describe it. He makes your knees weak and your heart explode into a million stars that could paint the galaxy. You find yourself wanting to spend every minute with him. Not just because he’s a god, of course. Because, he’s genuinely an interesting person that you feel comfortable around. He does sweet things for you when you don’t even ask him to and he always puts you first. He hasn’t even deemed you his girlfriend yet and he acts as if you’re his wife. It’s very comfortable with him and you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“Then one time I accidentally ran into Herc as he was fighting a titan and I got shoved off of the pantheon. Hermes had to come and save me as I was falling.” Jeongguk mumbles as you lay next to each other in his bed. He snaps his fingers before pointing as the image on the ceiling changes. “That’s my mother and father's house.”

Your eyes drift to the marble mansion before looking at a mansion beside it on it’s own floating stones. “Whose house is that one?” He hums before snapping his fingers as the ceiling goes dark. “Mine.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his short tone. “You don’t sound very happy about it.” He snorts before drinking some wine, “Yes well, not many good things happened there.”

“Oh?” You sit up in his bed, legs folding underneath you as he looks over at you. His hair falls into his eyes as he gives you a small smile. “Psyche lived there, too.”

Ah. “What’s up with that story? It always seemed like it had a happy ending.” He gives a quick laugh before setting down his goblet and grabbing your hands. “It really, really doesn’t.”

“Care to talk about it?” He groans before sitting up and leaning against the headboard. His arms cross before his head lolls backwards. “I mean, do you wish to hear about my tryst with another human? Besides you?”

You shrug before putting your hands underneath your chin, “You like me, right?”

“Gods yes. More than you know. You’re so refreshing and sweet.” You smile at his compliment as his head tilts towards you, tongue running over the inside of his cheek. “Then you can tell me, I won’t be jealous. I’m here with you, in this bed.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle before closing his eyes, “You’re really something different, huh? Fine. Hold my hands.”

You put your hands in his before closing your eyes. You see her now, Psyche, her beauty was breathtaking. She was married to Eros, an arranged marriage that she had been forced into. She sat alone in a magnificent castle, gold columns, floors made of jewels and silver lined the walls. She was suspicious then, and an empty house welcomed her.

“I was never home, I was always out with my brother and Dionysus.”

She waited patiently for her husband to return home, laying in the large gold bed, eyes screwed shut. Then he appeared out of gold mist, he lays down behind her whispering sweet nothings into her ears and her face becomes passive. You feel your heart clench and your stomach roll before inhaling deeply through your nose.

Jeogguk’s hands clenched tighter onto yours, “Shall I stop?”

“No.”

Days pass and you can tell just how truly happy Psyche is. But, you can see her pain, too. You can see the way her eyes fill up with tears as she walks the halls of the large castle alone. You can hear her call out to her sisters and family members, her sweet voice bouncing off of the silver walls. She relays how much she misses them, how lonely she is. How she doesn’t want them to suffer because of her.

That night, as she lays in bed, he reappears behind her. Jeongguk’s body shimmers as he clutches her tightly. She asks him if her family can come up to the castle and see her, to know she is alive and well. He denies her but when he hears her whimper out of sadness he grants her that favor. He warns her though, to not let her sisters influence her mind or their relationship will crumble. She agrees to this before falling asleep.

The next day, her two sisters arrive with the grace of Hermes. The three sisters hug and cry with one another, happy to be together again. Upon entering the castle though, the sisters are too deeply amazed with what they see. How the floor is engrained with jewels and all of the expensive trinkets that litter the halls. Envious they question their sister throughout dinner, asking her who her husband is to have such wonderful treasures.

You can hear yourself gasp gently and Jeongguk lets out a bitter laugh, “I know. Keep watching it gets fucking better.”

Psyche tells them he is a young handsome hunter, that of which they do not believe. The sisters look across to each other at the dinner table before subtly nodding, their jealousy overtaking their minds as they make a pact to hurt their sister. As they say their goodbyes they whisper words of warning to Psyche. Telling her that her husband is an awful snake from the oracle Dephi. That this is the reason why he doesn’t allow her eyes to ever grace his face, he is an ugly wicked beast.

They had warped her mind like Jeongguk had warned her of. She speaks to herself in the day, alone in the castle. Asking herself why he does not come in the day and why he does not let him see her. He must be hiding something horrendous and she would shine a light in his face that night to see if he is a horrendous snake. And, if he is she will kill him. If not, she will go back to sleep peacefully.

“Psyche!” You find yourself whining and Jeongguk smirks before opening his eyes and staring at you. You are completely engrossed in the memories you watch and he runs his thumb over the back of your hand before tilting his head. You weren’t like this woman who he is showing you, you are someone far better than he could ever hope for. He feels lucky to have gotten to know you and in this luck, he wants to push it farther. He wants to know you forever.

Jeongguk sleeps peacefully and you watch as Psyche grabs the candle with a shaky breath.

“Don’t do it, idiot. He’s Eros!” Jeongguk chuckles gently before kissing the back of your hands.

Psyche’s face reveals great relief as the candle shines upon his handsome face. She falls to her knees and thanks the gods for this handsome man before her. As she leans against him a drop of oil falls from the head of the candle before burning Jeongguk’s back. He wakes up, pain written all over his face before looking at his wife as she thanks the gods. He scoffs, hand reaching to his back before standing and leaving without a word. Distrust is written over his features as he puts on his chiton.

Psyche runs after him as he descends the stairs of the castle, she hears his voice on the wind loud and clear as he tells her love cannot live without trust. She falls at the highest step of the castle stairs before wailing loudly.

You tut your tongue before frowning and you feel a tear squeeze past your shut eyes. “What an idiot.”

She cries on the doorstep for days, her body turning frail before deciding she would look everywhere for him and regain his love.

Jeongguk opens his eyes once more before wiping his thumb over your tear stained cheek.

Psyche goes to the temple of Aphrodite, praying to the goddess to give her back her husband. She begs the goddess to talk to her son and come back to her. She tells Psyche that she must be certain she is right for Eros, since she can distrust so easily. She tasks Eros’ wife with three tasks and if she does not complete them then he will be gone from her forever. Of course, Psyche agrees.

“Wait for it.” You hear Jeongguk’s voice whisper smugly before he is kissing at the back of your hands once more.

The goddess shows Psyche a mountain of different seeds. She tells her to separate the seeds before noon or she will never see Eros ever again. The goddess is gone in a shower of golden dust. She wails loudly as she separates the seeds knowing she would never have the time to complete the task. As she continues her task, a group of ants begin to pass by before deciding to help the crying woman. The seeds were then separated into smaller mounds that Psyche deemed acceptable. When Aphrodite saw these mounds she became angry and made Psyche sleep in the field.

“My mother can be a bitch sometimes.” You giggle at his statement before paying attention to the scene behind your eyelids.

The next morning Aphrodite comes back to the field, with a horrendous task. She points to a river as it flows freely over a large hill. The water is pitch black, abhorrent and running quickly. She tells Psyche to fill a jug with the water.

“Damn, Aphrodite. She could get hurt.” You mumble to yourself as your teeth nip at your bottom lip. “You aren’t watching a movie, goddess. You’re watching my life.” Jeongguk jeers before running his hand over your hair.

Psyche reaches the waterfall before discovering just how sharp and jagged the rocks. The black water was slippery and only a winged animal would be able to cross the rapids easily. An eagle flies Psyche to the waters after watching her fail several attempts out of sympathy for the still weeping woman. Aphrodite tells Psyche that she would not have passed without having help. She demands the weeping woman of yet another service, telling her she can prove herself to be as determined as she claims to be.

“Whoa. Aphrodite was on a rampage.” The god before you hums playfully, “She was angry that Psyche was beautiful, quite like she is, she has since grown up.”

Aphrodite gave Psyche a box, telling her to go to the Underworld and ask Persephone to drain her beauty into the box as a gift for the goddess of beauty. Obediently, Psyche to the road to Hades. Crying for two days and two nights before getting gates. She got onto a boat, one that was made of bones and leather as it crossed the river where the dead used to leave. She gave gold to the boatman, Charonte, to help her find her way to the dark palace of Persephone.

“Where’s Cerberus?” You whisper as your eyes squeeze tighter at the dim lighting of the Underworld. Guk chuckles before brushing his lips against your cheek as his forehead presses to your temple. “Cerberus lives with Hades in his palace. Persephone has her own. You know she can’t stomach him.” You open your mouth gently before nodding. Another story for another day, perhaps.

After a day of travelling, Psyche finds Persephone. She begs the queen of the dead to drain her beauty into the box for Aphrodite. Which, the queen does willingly because it was so asked by the goddess of beauty. She would always be glad to serve Aphrodite. With this third task done, Psyche travels back up to the surface before giving Aphrodite the box. Upon opening it, the goddess of beauty’s skin turns black as night, eyes turning bright red out of anger. She swears to keep Psyche a slave forever and never let her go.

You whistle before flinching as Aphrodite flies into the air leaving Psyche alone in the field. Vines grow tall around her imprisoning her as she cries out for help from Eros. Upon hearing her cries the gods and goddesses tell Eros, who has locked himself away due to heartbreak, all of the unjust things his mother has done.

“Here we go.” He mumbles to you before pulling you into his chest.

He flies down to Psyche before enveloping her into a hug, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and promising to never leave her side. They return to the palace before long and he promises to stay around forever. Their days turn into weeks and their happiness is unending. And yet, Psyche still talks to herself, mumbling that he is a snake underneath the handsome god's skin. He planned all of this to happen, he set his mother upon him to give her these terrible tasks. Her skin begins to turn pail as the light in her irises dim. She swears at him, shoving him away as if he is a demon. He tries to hold her, to calm her but she becomes mad. Raving and ranting as her long nails scratch and dig at his skin. He begins to bleed, tears of gold leak from his eyes.

You feel yourself begin to cry as you watch him writhe in pain. He brings you closer burying your face into his chest as your hands grip tighter at his. “I’m alright, goddess. I’m okay.”

She wishes death upon him, begging him to leave her be in the big palace by herself. She couldn’t bear to look at him as if he had wronged her in every way known to man. His body crumbles before long, knees cracking and splintering the brilliantly gemed floor as he weeps for her. She spits at him, grabbing a knife off of the wall before holding it to his neck. He begs her not to kill him, he tells her how ardently he loves her and yet, she leaves him alone in the palace as he falls to the floor wailing. He lays there as the days turn to night and night turns to day.

He pulls his hands from yours before hugging you tightly to his body. You sob against his chest and he coos gently as his hands run over your hair. “W-What happened to her?” His lips press to your hairline before picking your face up and brushing your tears away with his thumbs.

“She is a mistress of Hades.” You sniffle before sobbing again and the corners of his lips quirk upwards. “You’re even beautiful when you cry.”

You smack his hands away before whimpering and he merely chuckles before kissing your forehead. “Don’t cry, goddess. I’m over it, it was a long time ago.”

You rub at your face, chafing your skin with your sleeves before sniffling, “Have you ever loved after that? Did you ever find someone?” He tilts his head before smiling, his finger booping your nose before chuckling.

“I have indeed.” You look up at him as he shakes the hair from his face. His coffee irises gleam with delight as he tuts his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “What was her name?”

Your voice is a whisper in the expanse of his room as he curls his hands around the Eros pendant you were vigilantly. “She sits before me. On my bed. Rubbing the skin off of her face as she cries for my past loves.”

You stiffen as he smiles lazily, his head presses against the headboard before sighing gently. He loves you? Him? This impeccable being? You can’t seem to think as your heart begins to pick up speed. Jittery nervous course through your veins as your lungs restrict. “Y-You love me?”

He hums gently before nodding, “I do, goddess. Very much.”

Your body lifts itself up before throwing yourself on to him. He grunts gently before laughing as you wrap your arms around his golden skin, his large hands caress at your cheeks before wrapping a hand around your neck.

“I do indeed.” He kisses you gently. The feeling of his lips makes goosebumps produce on your skin as you gasp gently. Your hairs stand on end as your body begins to vibrate at his touch. Your eyes open wide as his skin begins to glow before you and as you pull away you can see yours doing the same. He groans gently before flipping you over and kissing you as if his life depends on it. Your heart rate soars, the sound resounding in your ears as your fingers tangle into his long hair.

He moans against your lips, a sound so carnal your hips are lifting off of the bed at his touch. “Goddess.” He whispers gently as his lips trail across the skin of your jaw. You whimper at how deep his voice has gotten as lust enshrouds him.

You pull at his hair gently as his hands begin to knead at your thighs. “Goddess. I cannot do anything with you until you are my wife.” You pull at his head, scoffing as he kisses down your neck. Lips plucking gently at your skin before sitting up.

“What?! Guk! Fuck me!” He chuckles gently before leaning back on his heels. You eye his erection, how it strains against the fabric of his sweatpants before reaching for it. He grasps your wrist gently, his touch is electric sending tingles through you as he shakes his head. “I cannot do a thing with you until you are on high.”

You narrow your eyes at him before shaking your head. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve made a promise to my mother, goddess. If I do not abide by the promise I will burst and no longer exist.” Your jaw drops open before sitting up. “Wow.”

He hums before looking down at his sweatpants and running both of his hands through his hair. “I will wait for the day you accept me.”

After that telltale night, you find yourself falling in love with the god that gives you everything so willingly. He’s become such a large part of your life that you can’t seem to help always wanting to be around him. The Graceful Gods project was due tomorrow and you yet again are in his bed as the pen cap sits snugly between your teeth. “What else should we add to it?”

Jeongguk looks up from the notebook before yawning and lying down, “Nothing. For the fiftieth time. Just lay down with me and let's sleep.” He opens up his arms and you pout before flailing the book in front of his face. “You’re already a god, I need to complete this so I get a good grade and graduate with honors.”

He smirks before pulling at your arm. Your body lands on top of his and he hums to himself happily. You both lay quietly for a moment before he lifts his head. “Move in with me.”

“Where, in here? Where we can hear-” You point to the sky before hearing loud moans ricochet through the apartment. He chuckles before pressing his hands to your ears playfully. “No, to Olympus. Move in with me.”

The book falls from your hands as he offers you such a thing. To move into his palace in the sky?! You squeak gently as his hand runs over your back. “I love you and I want you to spend your days with me.”

You do love him. You’ve never loved anyone more than him. Well, come to think of it he’s the only one you’ve ever truly loved. A love that shakes up your heart and you would give your life for him gladly if you needed to. It was a pure love, built from nothing but apples and vases. But, it was a love of your own that had your heart soaring.

“After we complete the project. I will.” You promise him. He smiles widely, so widely you’re afraid his skin will crack before his lips are on yours. His kiss is filled with ardor, pouring all of his emotions into the kiss as you both begin to glow in the dim lighting of his gold coated bedroom. He kisses you until all of the breath is stolen from the both of you. His hands run over your sides before putting his forehead to yours. “So.. the project, you wanted to add something else?” He whispers before hooking his chin over your shoulder. You giggle quietly before throwing the notebook on the floor and kissing him once more.

“You’ve done exceptionally well, which is surprising to me because Jeongguk seems to show as little interest in Greek mythology as I do when my wife continuously packs me cheese sandwiches for lunch.” Professor Song mumbles before throwing the sandwich on to his desk. You stand beside the man you love, head bowed down as you await your grade. “Very interesting how you formed the bond between Aphrodite and Hephaestus as a working love and not one made of anger like the books usually show. I was rather captured by it.”

You smirk as well as the god next to you. You can recall sitting underneath the weeping willow as Aphrodite brushed your hair telling you the tales of her marriage with her not so handsome husband as you wrote diligently into your notebook. “I do enjoy the hard facts, although what could be so hard about them when they’re fiction.”

Jeongguk smirks beside you before pressing his fist to his lips. “But I also enjoy how you made them feel like real people. As I said before I was captured by it. You both get an A.” Your eyes shoot up to Professor Songs before you’re squealing and wrapping your arms around your partner. He hugs you tightly before chuckling as you jump up and down excitedly. “You get to graduate with honors, Y/N. Congratulations. I’m sure this really has given you excitement.”

You thank him generously, having to be pulled out of the lecture hall by your boyfriend as you continue to jump up and down. His lips press to your forehead and you feel your body light up, your nerve ending jumping and vibrating at his touch. "Come with me, goddess. I’ve waited too long for this day."

His house is empty when you arrive, you can hear rain pattering against the windows. Adoneus sits patiently in front of the Dionysus statue before perking up at the sight of you. "You know when it rains, Zeus is angry or emotional about something. Since Jimin is not here, he must have done something to upset his father."

You giggle at his words before watching as he snaps his fingers. Your clothes ripple before changing and your jaw drops as you feel the rich fabric against your skin. The peplos falls in rivets and you find your fingers feeling the silken fabric. “Beautiful.”

His attire changes to a chiton and you find yourself feeling that fabric too. Pushing your body closer to his as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Goddess.”

You hum quizzically as your fingers drift over the baggy silk shirt, feeling his abs contort with every breath. You stand up, lips drifting over his golden skin and he lets out a gentle sigh.

“Goddess.” You suck gentle patches over his neck, leaving small markings indicating him as yours. Your body jumps and he catches you easily, his hands finding purchase on the globes of your ass before squeezing gently. A small moan leaves you and his jaw flexes as you kiss over it. “Baby. We can’t, you know this.”

You hum to him as he squeezes your ass again, your legs wrap around his waist as your arms run over his shoulders. “I don’t want to explode into gold dust.”

His admission makes you giggle before you gyrate your lower body over his. His cock, hard and throbbing, as your core runs over his. “Zeus above.” His lips chase yours before pulling you into a kiss that sets off a glow between you both. “You’re being a bad girl, goddess. You know what you do to me.”

You giggle before pulling him back in, his teeth bite your bottom lip. Pain radiating through you, you gasp only to have it be swallowed by his mouth as his tongue caresses yours. He moans loudly, a noise that mixes in with the thunder as it crashes loudly outside. You can feel your heartbeat pick up, as your fingers card through his black hair. His fingertips massage at your ass before walking over to the couch and laying you down gently. He straddles you before lifting the peplos and licking his lips. His coffee irises are all but black, blown out with lust as his bottom lip purchases between his teeth. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His hands are warm as they caress your bare sides. He bows down, lips connecting to yours as your stomach begins to unfurl in wanting. His hands reach for your breasts before a throat clears.

You both jump before turning your heads to the noise. Aphrodite stands, leaning against her statue before biting an apple. Jeongguk jumps up before hauling you with him. He gives an embarrassed chuckle and you can’t help but feel your cheeks flush as she stares at you both. “In front of my statue? You would defile each other?”

He rubs the back of his neck before looking at you and giving you a small smile. She laughs gently before throwing him the apple, which he catches with quick reflexes before sinking his teeth into it. “I came because you told Hermes something very special was happening today. I assume it isn’t you turning into gold dust?”

He clears his throat before rubbing his hands together as if he’s getting scolded. “Yes. Um… Y/N is going to ascend today. That’s why she’s wearing the peplos.” His voice is a whisper before looking over at you, fingers scratching nervously at his scalp. He looks at his mother as she gasps. “Today?!”

You nod happily and within seconds she is lifting you off of the couch with ease before wrapping her arms around you and jumping. “This is so exciting! I can’t wait! I have so much to do! I-” She stops herself as her body rocks yours with glee. “Drink the Ambrosia slowly, your body will thank you for it. I have to go! I have to speak with Apollo, Dionysus, and Caerus. Oh! And-” She disappears within seconds, her body turning into gold shimmer before you two are left alone once more.

Jeongguk chuckles gently before wrapping his arms around you, “I think we can expect a festival awaiting us.” You wrap your arms around his before burying your face into his neck. His scent calms you and you feel your body ease into his. His hands drift over your hair, pulling your face ever closer to his body. “Are you ready?”

You feel your throat tighten before looking up at him, his eyes are on yours. Alight with love and fiery passion before he snaps his fingers. Two gold goblets appear on the table and you gasp gently. The thick liquid calls out to you, glowing gently in the dim apartment. “Once you drink this you will become immortal. You will not age, you will not die. You will stay by my side forever. We'll be married in the eyes of the gods and goddesses of the pantheon."

Your eyes flicker to the cup before biting the skin on your lip. To be with this man, this god, for your eternity sounds something akin to pure bliss. Without a second thought you pick up the cup. The liquid ripples slowly and you can see Guk begin to smirk as he picks up his own. “I love you, goddess.”

“I love you, too.” You bring the goblet to your lips before sniffing it gently. The smell makes you blink, “Holy shit.”

His laugh is loud before he sips his own drink. “Yeah, I know.” The smell is clean and pleasant. You can only liken it to itself, seeing as how you’ve never smelt or drank anything like it. Although, come to think of it this is Jeongguk's scent that you could never put your finger on.

“Drink it slowly, baby.” Your lips part for the thick drink, eyes on his as his nose wrinkles. His hand lands on your clothed thigh, stroking it comfortingly as you take a small sip. The thickness coats your tongue, your tastebuds scream with pleasure as your eyes go wide. You can feel your mouth warm up as the flavor bursts within you. “Okay.” He whispers before grabbing the goblet as your head lolls back.

You swallow the Ambrosia before your mind blanks. White noise fills your ears and Jeongguk sets down the goblets before cradling you in his arms as your body stiffens. You whimper gently at the locked feeling before your eyelids fall shut. “You’re okay, goddess.”

Your heart stops for a minute, veins falling still before your body jolts as an electrical current runs through you. It runs hot and fast, pushing your blood out of every vessel before you still once more. Your chest begins to glow, a subtle gold before it shines brightly, radiating through you to each limb. Your hands move first, numb but still pliable as you clench onto his arms. He pulls you to him, coddling you to his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

Your heart begins again, pumping furiously as your eyes snap open. “There she is.” Your mind becomes clear, a loud gasp emits through the room before you look down at your radiating skin. He hugs you tightly, lips kissing over your face as he tells you how much he adores you. “Thank you. For coming to me.”

You hug him back, sitting like this for a small while. You grab the goblet again before taking a sip and relishing at the taste. No food or drink could ever compare to its deliciousness and you find yourself never wanting to have anything else. “Snap your fingers for me.”

You raise an eyebrow as you look upon his handsome face. He closes his eyes and snaps, an apple appears on the table. “For me. Just let me see what your fruit is.”

You snap your fingers before tilting your head as nothing happens. Jeongguk furrows his eyebrows before shrugging. You pout deeply making him chuckle before his lips are against your temple. “That’s okay, goddess. Not everyone can get a fru-”

His sentence is interrupted as the apartment begins to rumble. He widens his eyes before holding you close as the marble floor begins to crack and splinter. “What the fuck?”

A tree erupts from the ground, groaning loudly as branches smack against the ceiling before apples begin to grow off of the tree's limbs. “Zeus above!” He pushes you off of him before stepping around the coffee table and plucking an apple off of the tree. Your mouth drops open and he laughs loudly before throwing the apple up in the air. “By the gods, you’re incredible.”

He stands there before tilting his head to you, "You know, I've had a crush on you since that day you watched me on that bench." You smile gently at his admission before crossing your legs. That was a while ago now.

"Then why didn't you talk to me?" He hums to himself before clearing his throat. "Gods can be insecure too, goddess. Maybe I was just happy to sit next to you every day." You mewl at his words gently before taking another sip of your Ambrosia.

He takes a bite of the apple before chuckling to himself. He holds out his hand as he walks towards the hallway. “Come, my goddess. You have a welcome party to attend to.”

You watch, eyes enraptured as the walls turn into jelly before he pushes open the simple closet door. Clouded stairs greet your path, illuminated by a lavender sun. He steps onto the clouds before smiling at you. “Come.” He holds his hand out waiting for you as you peek your head through the door.

“Holy shit. This is…”

“Olympus.” You can hear wings flap and as you step out nervously, foot tapping against the cloud to make sure it's stable you see a flying horse with a man on its back. “Is that…?”

“Pegasus and Heracles. Yes.” You squeal loudly, feet stomping on the cloud making him laugh gently. “I’m sure you’ll meet many of my family. If Jimin had a hand in this party, you’re in for a treat.”

He goes to step up the staircase with you before turning sharply. “Try not to let my aunts touch your skin. They’re insane.”

He steps up another step before stopping, “And, don’t drink too much Ambrosia. You’ll get sick.”

You nod thoughtfully as he stops at every stair. You whine loudly as excitement courses through you wanting to see the pantheon just a few meters away. “And don’t leave my side.”

“Don’t touch any animals.”

“Don’t accept any offering that demigods try to give you.” You roll your eyes as you begin to ascend with him.

“If you see Helios, don’t look directly into his eyes or your skin will burn.”

“Hymenaios will congratulate you on our wedding, if he tries to-”

“Jeongguk!” He tilts his head with a pout as you wrap your arms around his waist. “Relax. I’m going to be just fine.”

His lips drift over your hairline before nodding, “Yes, goddess.”

Harpsichords begin to play as you cross the golden gates. Your breathing stops as you take in the bustling pantheon in front of you. You eye the floating isles set upon clouds and jagged stones and in the distance you can see Jeongguk’s home. You point to it before squealing and he smiles at you. “Yes, that is our home.”

You hug him tightly, feet stepping giddily on the stone floor as you gasp as Pegasus steps in front of you both. “Eros.”

“Herc. Pleasure.”

The horse brushes it’s white face against you and you look up at the divine hero. He bows his head to you before smiling. “Goddess. Good morning to you.” His body was chiseled and riddled with scars from his battles that he so dutifully fought. You find yourself beginning to swoon as his pectoral muscles ripple. “The Hall is getting ready for your arrival. I was told to bring you this.”

Heracles snaps his fingers and you feel a weight on your skull. Jeongguk hums gently before fixing your hair behind your ears. “Pretty gift. From who?”

“Theia and Aphrodite.” He nods and you point at your head. “Is it a crown?”

He wrinkles his nose cutely before nodding. “A pretty one too.”

“Well. I’ll be off. Pegasus, say goodbye to our new goddess.” The horse whinnies loudly and you gasp with delight before petting his head. “Hi Pegasus!”

Jeongguk steps back to look at you in your entirety, his heart swells with adoration before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and squeezing gently. “Oh!”

You look up at Heracles once more as he snaps. “Have a nice flight.” Winged sandals appear on your feet and you gasp loudly, gripping at Jeongguk’s chiton as you float above the floor. Pegasus takes off, wings flapping loudly in the breeze before flying into the clouds above you. “It takes some time to get used to, like riding a bike.”

“You know how to ride a bike?” You find yourself asking with a laugh, he chuckles as he begins to float beside you. “No, but I can ride a chariot and that is much more impressive.”

You reach the hall screaming bloody murder as Jeongguk laughs loudly. “You’re fine, goddess. See.” He plants himself down on the gold steps of the large hall. Your head lolls back as your mouth opens to take in the gorgeous architecture. Pillars of marble and gold hold up the high ceilings. You eye carefully the way the pillars are cut with precision, swirls at the base and tops leaving the columns looking regal and defined. “Eros!”

That is a voice you know very well. You look at Jimin as he flies towards you with a wide smile. “Y/N! Can you do this yet?” He spins like a top as he floats in the air before doing a somersault. “I just got here like five minutes ago. I can barely float.” He laughs loudly before finding purchase on the ground. He produces a cup of Ambrosia before handing it to you.

“You had to hear her, screaming like a banshee. I’m sure Hades could hear her in the Underworld.” You scowl at your man as he chuckles delighted. Your eyes look past Jimin as godly women arrange a banquet, the likes of which you’ve never seen before. “Well, well.”

You turn excitedly to the woman who mothered the god you so love. She wraps you into a hug before a lyre begins to play throughout the sky. “The beautiful goddess is here. I’m so happy for you.” Her hand feels warm upon your cheek as you giggle shyly. “We have many people to meet, wouldn’t you say?”

“Mother, we’ve only just arrived.” She tuts her tongue at her son before smiling at you. “Demeter. Come meet Eros’ wife. She’s an absolute vision.” She pulls you away from Jeongguk as he scoffs quietly.

“Family really is so annoying.” He whispers to his cousin before snapping his fingers and producing a glass of wine.

“Demeter, this is Y/N. Eros’ wife.” A woman turns to you and you can do all but gasp at her beauty. Her peplos is the color of wheat, which is apt for the goddess of grains and harvest. She hums delighted before putting her hands upon your face. You feel a jolt run through you before you’re licking your lips. “Well now, how gorgeous is this one.”

You smile shyly as she fixes the gold crown atop your head before giving you a motherly smile. “She has a beauty fit for a goddess. I wish my Persephone were here to see this.” You clear your throat gently before looking over at Aphrodite as she drinks from a glass of wine. “She has immortality, but not eternal youth. This must be fixed. Right away. Don’t want you wrinkling, goddess. Hebe!”

Your attention turns to a young woman, black curls shroud her shoulders as her young face smiles at you three. “Oh! Mother!” Jeongguk whines loudly as Hebe skips over. His voice is like a song you would love to hear for all of eternity. Hebe stands in front of you before clapping happily.

“We must do something about your skin. It is already turning pale.” You point at yourself, eyes widening at the goddess of youth. She nods early before snapping her fingers and producing a small vial. “Drink. This is from my fountain.”

You take the vial before looking down at the water from the fountain of youth within your palm. “Go on, Y/N. It’ll be but a minute.” You uncork the vial before drinking the water. “Zeus above!” Jeongguk yells loudly before dropping his goblet to the floor as your body goes still.

He flies over to you, catching you quickly as the three women giggle with childish intent. “You could have let her sit or something.” You feel your skin become softer, hair becoming shinier underneath your gold crown and Jeongguk’s eyes soften before running his thumb over your cheek. “Why must she sit when she has you. So eager to catch the young goddess.”

He scoffs gently before helping you stand back up, his lips brush against your cheek. Your stomach unfurls in wanting as your hand snakes around his neck. “I do hope you enjoy my wedding gift, Eros. Doesn’t come cheap.” Demeter jeers before turning back to the banquet table.

“I told you not to let them touch you.” He whispers through clenched teeth as you begin to smile at his handsome face. Your lower body begins to glow, womb glistening like the sun making Guk scoff.

“Oh, Zeus above, Demeter! Really?! You could have just given her a loaf of fucking bread.” Demeter giggles before fixing the wheat in her cornucopia. “Where’s the fun in that god of love?”

The welcome party goes off without a hitch. You find yourself leaning into a conversation with Odysseus and Persyus as they tell you their wondrous tales that only heroes could live. Jeongguk has kept you close to him throughout the night, his hand never leaving your waist as you converse with the gods and goddesses you had believed were a myth your whole life. “Wife.” Jeongguk calls your attention and your head is already lifting to look up at him. “Let’s go for a walk. Hmm?”

He takes your hand before kissing it gently and you bow gracefully to the two heroes before you are off with the god you so ardently love. “Gods, they don’t shut up. If I have to hear Theseus tell the tale of how he battled a minotaur one more time, I might rip my own ears off.”

You laugh gently as you both begin to float off of the island towards Jeongguk’s home. It dawns on you now that this is your own home as well. “Shall I take my goddess home?” He whispers in your ear as his arms wrap around you. You giggle before burying your face into his neck, “I think so.”

You step inside of the castle, your eyes not knowing where to land as fires begin to light up the cold halls. “It hasn’t been lived in for a long time.” He whispers before looking around almost as astounded as you. He pulls your hand as you both step onto the floor. You take in the jewelled floors, how they shimmer and sparkle within the orange lighting of the fire. His feet pad up a marble staircase taking you with him as you notice the missing sword on the wall. Your throat clenches at his memories you’ve seen so vividly. Your hand brushes along the gold walls, feeling the expensive metal beneath your fingertips as he turns to you. “This is our home now. This home will be filled with love and joy. The walls will tell tales of how ardently we love one another.”

Your eyes catch Artemis as she flits down the hall and you smile widely. "Couldn't leave her on Earth by herself now could we."

You smile at him, heart beginning to race as he lifts you up with ease wrapping your legs around his waist. “I love you, goddess.”

Your hands card through his hair as he walks into the master bedroom. “I love you, too.”

He looks at the bed before frowning. This bed holds many memories that would not do. You snap your fingers and the bed changes entirely. From gold to silver. From red bed sheets to white silk with four bed posts made of ivory. Jeongguk whistles before kissing you softly. “Now that gets my cock hard.”

Your giggle ricochets off of the golden walls as he lays you down gently. “You know… We’re married now.” You hum to him as he kisses down the expanse of your neck, eyes fluttering shut as his lips pluck at the thin skin. “We are.”

His lips suckle sweetly at your neck, tongue licking over the reddening skin as he marks you as his own. Your stomach unfurls once more, pants beginning to rip from your chest as your legs squeeze his waist. He groans gently before snapping his fingers and you are utterly naked underneath him. “Zeus above, you’re so beautiful.”

With the snap of your fingers, he too is naked before you. In the dim orange lighting you can see every shadow, every curve of his muscles. The way his eyebrows furrow as he takes in the sight of you beneath him. Your eyes dance over his handsome face, watching as he bows his head down to lavish sweetly upon your body. His hands cup your breasts, lips sucking marks around an areola before encasing it with his perfectly shaped lips. Your back bows off of the white bed. Fingers running through his hair before pulling gently. You relish in the short gasp he takes at the pain and you could feel your arousal beginning to weep from you.

His large hands spread your thighs, as his tongue flicks against your nipple. Soft moans emit throughout the large bedroom as his hands begin to grip tighter at your sensitive flesh. “Guk!”

“Yes, goddess?” His voice is deep as his eyes meet yours, in the light of the fire you can see how blown out his pupils are as he licks at his lips. “Want you.”

“You have me.” His fingers run over the expanse of your thighs before his lips begin to trail lower. Hands grasp at your hips as he groans lowly. “You do taste so sweet.”

If you could have any thoughts you would recall how much like this your dream was that you had not so long ago but all melts away as his teeth nip playfully at the skin of your pubic bone. “Shall I taste the sweetest tulip I’ve ever seen?” He cocks his head to the side, black hair falling into his eyes and you could orgasm on the spot of how handsome he is. Hands falling from his hair, your fingertips drift over his muscled arms, leading over to his pectoral muscles and down to his abs. You find it hard to concentrate as he sits up tall for you, letting you explore his body. The sinew of muscle constricts as you touch him and his head lolls back at the feeling. "Gods, your touch is incredible."

You go to sit up before he is narrowing his eyes at you. "Lay back and shower me in your pleasure." You whine gently as your hands continue to stroke his abs, wanting nothing more than to lick and suckle his taught skin.

"Goddess, bad vixens get punished in this house." Your breath catches in your throat as his head bows back down. His tongue sweeps over your closed pussy lips and you sigh gently at the feeling of his mouth upon you. He snaps his fingers and your arms are pulled over your head as white silk bands wrap around your wrists. "Guk!" He chuckles gently before spreading open your pussy lips.

He moans at the sight before licking a flat swipe up your sex, gathering your arousal on his tongue. "Sweeter than Ambrosia. I'd like to taste this every minute of every day, Zeus above."

You become aware of harpsichord music as his lips kiss your swollen clit. The melody is a sweet song that has your brain beginning to feel fuzzy. "Shouldn't have let Demeter touch you. Her gift makes me want to impregnate your fertile little cunt." He mumbles to himself before suckling harshly at your clit. Your body bows off of the bed, thighs pressing against his head as you moan loudly. He snaps and your ankles are stretched open and pulled tightly down onto the bed leaving you perfectly exposed for him.

"I'm going to put a god inside of your womb tonight, goddess. Would you like that?" You whimper loudly as his index finger begins to tease your entrance. "Fuck you so well the whole pantheon sees my child growing inside of you."

The thought has his head swimming as his lips attach back to your engorged bundle of nerves. His finger enters you slowly, moans coaxed from the both of you. Guk curls his finger slowly yet expertly to the patch inside of you that has sobs wracking from your body. Your body begins to float up and his free hand pins you down to the bed as he slowly adds in another finger. "Guk! Fuck!" He hums against you, tongue flicking faster as your arousal begins to coat his cheeks and chin. The harp grows ever louder as your body begins to illuminate for your husband between your legs. It is then that your heart begins to beat fast, stomach tightening as you whimper louder. "Shower me in your pleasure, goddess. I love you so much."

"Jeon-gguk!" He moans against you gently, eyes rolling back as he feels your cunt begin to pulsate around his fingers. "That's it, goddess." The light from your body begins to shine brighter and he watches your face, drinking in the pure pleasure written upon it.

Your stomach tightens to the fullest before your head is lolling back. "Fuck! I'm cumming!" He grips at your hip harder, your words sending all of his blood straight to his cock. His teeth graze across your clit before you're cumming loudly. The stars of the galaxy paint the back of your eyelids as you fall over the edge. The harp gets drowned out as white noise replaces it. You moan his name loudly, both of them Eros and Jeongguk alike and he sits up to watch you with greedy eyes. "Gods, you're gorgeous."

Jeongguk slowly pulls out of you. He suckles on his fingers, savoring the sweet taste of you. His hand rubs at your glowing sides, letting you bask in the afterglow of your orgasm. He leans down pressing his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue, sweet and thick as he cups your face with his hand. His forehead connects to yours before muttering the only three words that seem to matter. "I love you."

"I love you, too." Your hands strain against the fabric before you pout. He chuckles, sweet breath fanning your face before you're slyly smirking at him. You snap your fingers and like that, you're free from your confines. Your body lifts up before shoving him down onto the bed, he gasps gently before chuckling.

"I guess I'm not the only one who holds power in this home." You giggle before planting a chaste kiss upon his lips. Trailing downward, your tongue sweeps small circles over his golden skin as he glows from the orange flames. He gasps gently, mouth dropping open before his eyes flutter shut. You lick at his chest, dancing over the taught, muscular skin. He groans gently, whispering your name reverently as his hands run through your hair. You feel it again, the feeling that sends tingles through your body. Begging for the man underneath you, Jeongguk's eyes flutter open before smirking as your lower half begins to glow. "Someone's womb is dying to be filled with the seed of Eros. Hmm?"

You snap your fingers, white silk ribbons wrap around his wrists before yanking his arms above his head. He groans gently before chuckling. "You're astounding, goddess." You know he could easily release himself from them but he makes no move as your hands run over his thick thighs. You take all of him in now, almost gasping at his large size as his cock twitches with need. He was long and thick making your mouth water. Rose colored veins peppering his long length as it rests against his stomach. His bulbous head is blushed pink and you can help but notice the gentle curve of his immaculate cock. He whimpers when you touch his inner thighs. Hips bowing off of the bed begging for something more. "It's been so long since I've been touched." He admits and you watch how precum begins to pool at his slit.

The precum shimmers in the lighting and you feel your mouth go dry, begging to taste it. You wrap your hand around the base, earning a hiss from the god beneath you before kissing over his length. He groans long and low as his head smacks into the mattress. "Oh gods, goddess you don't know how long I've waited for your touch." If it's half as long as you, you have a pretty good idea.

His cock is heavy in the palm of your hand, twitching with bliss as you press your lips to the smooth skin. The harpsichords begin to play once more as you reach the head. Your tongue darts out, licking the thick precum off of him before your eyes widen at the taste. There is no musk, nothing of the sort. He tastes of Ambrosia and you find yourself pumping his cock quicker for more. Delectable is the only word to describe it. You moan gently for him, a noise that makes him grunt gently before your tongue swirls around the blushed head of his cock. He moans loudly, eyes squeezing shut as his chest begins to glow. "Oh goddess!"

Your mouth engulfs him, hands caressing his abed stomach as you hollow your cheeks. He is heavy against your tongue, shimmering precum streaming endlessly into your mouth as he moans your name. What you cannot fit inside of you, you begin to stroke. His body begins to twitch with pleasure, thighs flexing and unflexing before he is snapping his fingers. His hands fall free before he is sitting up to watch you suck him diligently. "You fuck my cock into your mouth so well."

You whimper, thighs pressing against each other for some relief as you feel the emptiness of your cunt radiate through you. His hands grab at your hair, pulling it away from your face to view you easier. Your tongue runs flat licks over the base, the sounds of your cheeks hollowing and sucking him echo through the room and he gasps loudly as he grips your hair tighter. "Oh fuck! Goddess! Thank you for pleasing me so well."

Your eyes shut at his praise and his thumb sweeps across your cheek bone as you feel him begin to throb within your mouth. His body glows brighter, moans beginning to reach new levels of high. His fingertips roll and pluck at your nipples as his bottom lip purchases between his teeth. Your hands cup his balls, squeezing and rolling them gently within your hands and you whimper as he whispers your name with reverence. "Oh shit! I'm going to cum. Oh gods, fuck, it feels so good, Y/N!"

You swallow around him diligently, nose nestling to his pubic bone as you let him use your throat as a cocksleeve. "Oh goddess, how I love you." He begins to fuck your face, he pulls at your hair gently. The feeling sent straight to your core as your new wave of arousal begins to weep from you. Your eyes well up with tears as he whimpers loudly. "Goddess! Yes! I-I" He falls silently as his body begins to float into the air, taking you with him. His head falls back as he gasps quietly. "Cumming. Fuck, baby. I'm cumming for you."

His cock throbs wildly before stilling, warm ropes of cum paint your throat and you relish in the sweet taste of him. He moans your name so loudly that the gold walls of the castle vibrate gently. He glows brightly before you both fall back down onto the bed. Your hands run over his chest as he breathes raggedly. His tongue licks at his pretty pink lips before he raises his head to look at you. His smile makes your throat tense up, the most beautiful god is really beneath you.

His hands coddle your body to his before he is laying you back and kissing you gently. His knees knock open your legs, thumb caressing your cheek and jaw as he aligns himself to you. His cock gently brushes open your lips, gathering your arousal on the underside of his cock. You moan as his bulbous head prods at your engorging clit. His lips press to yours quickly before putting his forehead to you. "Shower me in your pleasure, goddess."

The harpsichords resound throughout the room, gentle and melodic as the head of his cock prods at your entrance. Hands grip at his tattooed arms, eyes on one another's as he inches slowly inside of you. There is a burn as he stretches your pussy for him. Your cunt muscles clench and squeeze against the thick intrusion and he kisses you languidly as he takes his time. He buries himself to the hilt, choking on a moan as his tongue caresses yours. "You're so tight, goddess. So fucking wet."

Kissing over your jaw, he gives a small thrust to work open your pussy and you could feel every curve of his cock, every part of your cunt filled by him. His moans are gentle as his thumbs brush over your nipples. "You'll take my child so well, pretty tits will swell with the milk of the gods."

Your pussy clenches around him as your womb glows brightly. "You'd like that, goddess. Wouldn't you? Like to have a god within your womb. Growing my child strong for Olympus."

"Yes! Please! I want to be pregnant with your child." He moans at your reply, lips crashing down on yours as he kisses you with unbearable wanting. It is then that he pulls out slowly, the bulbous head of his cock drags deliciously through your walls before thrusting back inside.

Your back bows off of the bed, eyes rolling back as your body begins to sing with white hot pleasure. He begins a lazy pace, whispering words of ardor over you as his lips kiss at your skin. Your bodies begin to float and he takes this time to wrap his arms around you, arm muscles rippling as he buries his face into the crook of your neck.

"Guk! More, please." He whimpers against your neck, tongue lazily sweeping circles over your skin before lifting his head. "Yes, goddess."

His thrusts pick up speed, your legs wrap around his waist as he grips at your hips. You can see the way his black hair begins to coat in a shimmering sweat, sticking to his forehead. His bottom lip finds purchase between his teeth as he pumps his cock into your needy cunt. "Gods, you feel so amazing. Your, fuck, your pussy is so incredible."

You sit up, chest smacking into his as you both float higher, your body bouncing on his with each thrust. His hands snake to the globes of your ass, squeezing roughly as he pulls you in for a kiss. You can see his body begin to glow once more, starting at his heart and spreading to his limbs. His strong arms take control, lifting your body with ease as your arousal begins to drip down his balls.

"Oh fuck! Eros!" With each thrust, the head of his cock prods against your cervix folds and your head lolls back as your body begins to radiate. Your toes begin to curl, the sound of the harp getting drowned out by both of your moans. It is then that he presses you both back down into the bed. Grabbing your ankles and hauling them over his shoulders as he bucks into you with fervent need.

"Y/N! Oh fuck! I'm going to spill my seed into your womb. Gonna fill you up so much you have no choice but to get pregnant with my child." The new angle has his bulbous head brushing against the bundle of nerves within you. His hands trail over your body, pinching and plucking at your stiff nipples before reaching for the apex between your thighs.

His fingers rub quick circles against your clit and your breath catches within your throat. Your body careens towards the precipice, the room filling up with white light as you moan his name loudly. You become acutely aware of how your pussy begins to throb around him, your mind going blank as you murmur his name like a prayer. "Goddess, I feel it. I feel your pretty little pussy trying to milk me of my seed. Cum on my cock, baby."

Your eyes flutter shut, hands grip at his arms. Your fingernails dig into his golden skin as it sings with pleasure. The pleasure, so intense, it brings tears to your eyes as you whimper for him. "I love you. Cum for me."

His thumb and index finger squeeze your swollen bundle of nerves gently and that's all it takes as you orgasm for him. Your heart beats voraciously fast, body tingling with new found pleasure as you cum for him. White noise fills your brain and you sob loudly at the pleasure. "Good girl."

His face is back to your neck, lips plucking at your delicate skin as he chases his own high. "Oh gods, you came all over me goddess. Squirted all over me. So gorgeous."

Fuzzily, you lift your head to look at his lower body, your cum shimmering on his thighs and cock. He fucks into you faster, tongue licking at his lips before his eyes are rolling back. His black hair tickles the skin of your neck as he moans your name like a prayer. “Oh fuck, Y/N! I’m going to cum! Get you so nice and big with my child inside of you.”

His words are a promise, a promise that fuels his desire to give you his everything. “Yes, please fill me Eros. Give me your child!” He groans loudly as he lifts his head. His coffee irises begin to turn white as he bites his bottom lip. You feel it then, how fast his cock begins to throb within you, begging to unleash his cum deep inside of you. You can see the love, the pleasure, the wanting written over his handsome features as his eyes flutter shut. His mouth opens, tongue caressing the skin of his bottom lip before his eyebrows furrow.

“Fuck! Goddess!” His hands grasp at your hips as you begin to float higher than before. The harps song begins to quicken and your back begins to arch as Guk moans. “Oh gods, I’m cumming.”

His body bursts with white light, so bright you have to squeeze your eyes shut as his cock stills inside of you. He gives small thrusts before moaning so loudly your ears ring. The orange flames of the room are burnt out as a gust of wind sweeps throughout the bedroom. Ropes of cum greet your needy cunt. Your womb swells with his seed as his cum never seems to cease. It fills you with warmth, numbing your body and you feel euphoric as he hugs you tightly to him.

He kisses over your sweaty skin, peppering you with love as you both slowly float back down to the bed. The harp turns into the sounds of a lyre before you hear trumpets begin to resound. He chuckles gently against you before shaking his head. “Welcome to Olympus.”

You giggle before running your hands through his sweaty hair. He hugs you tightly before pulling out of you slowly, his tongue licks at hips before he's humming in amusement. His fingers splayed open the lips of your pussy before groaning. "Zeus above, that's hot." You watch as his cum seeps out of you, coating the silk sheets beneath you as it sparkles.

"I can't believe you have glittery cum." He laughs loudly, head falling back before he snaps his fingers changing the sheets beneath you both. He lays down beside you, arm wrapping around your waist before pulling your back flush to his chest. "I love you."

"I love you too."

Waking up in Olympus can only be described as rapture. Leaving Guk alone in the bed, you snap your fingers as you walk towards the open balcony. A light blue peplos enwraps your body and you can smell Ambrosia on the wind as you lean against the marble railing of the balcony. The lavender sky hangs high above the pantheon and you close your eyes taking in the heated rays. Once an enigma to you, Jeongguk has become everything you could have dreamed of and you find your eyes welling with tears as you open them once more.

You take in the sight of gods and goddess flying around to get from the Elysian Fields to even the market. “Goddess?” His voice croaks with the sound of morning and you giggle before putting your hands underneath your chin. You hear the sheets ruffle as he awakes and your head tilts to look at a garden with a fountain in the center. In the distance you can see Hebe sitting on the edge of the fountain combing her hair and you fill with calmness. “Good morning.”

His arms wrap around you before pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. “Good morning.” He pulls back before looking at the blue peplos and smirking. “You feel different today?”

You raise an eyebrow before turning to him. “Different?” He hums before kissing your lips gently.

“Blue.” He pulls at the peplos before looking past you towards the pantheon.

His hands run down your arms to your stomach and you go wide eyed as he turns you back around. “Pregnancy is different here, goddess.” You choke on your own spit before looking down at your stomach. Just a small bump, maybe signifying that you were two to three months pregnant and yet, you’re still mystified by it.

“You-I- We just did it yesterday.” He laughs, a sweet melodic sound as his breath fans the back of your neck. “Yes, we did. A very good night for me indeed.” You snort as your womb begins to glow underneath his touch. It hits you then.

“What about my job as a mythologist? What about everything on Earth?” He hugs you tightly as Pegasus flies above the castle.

“I’d say this is better than studying myths, don’t you think? You’re living one.” You ponder on this thought for a second before you begin to smile. “I’d say so.”

He sighs gently before rubbing at your stomach. “It’s a boy y’know. That’s why you’re wearing blue.” Your heart swells before turning to him, his hands caging you against the railing as the prop up on either side of you. “Although the world will never write about your story, they will never know the tales of how Eros grew to love again. How our love culminated into the greatest gift of being-” His hands press to your stomach as you tilt your head, “-the pantheon will know. They will know how ardently I treasure and adore you. The gods and goddesses will know how you make my heart sing.” Your fingers reach up and touch the gold necklace around your neck and his nose wrinkles. He wraps you in his arms, chest beginning to glow as his forehead presses to yours. “For Eros, the god of love found his own in a woman whose heart made his own weep with Ambrosia, sing like the winds of the Elysian Fields and dream such sweet dreams only Morpheus would provide.”

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