Hey are you continuing the skz pack series it’s been over a year since that last update and i wasn’t sure if you were going to continue it
I’m gonna be real honest with all of you guys because I love and adore you, and I’m so thankful to have all of you.
I don’t know when I’ll update skz!Pack again, or if I will. I know people don’t want to hear that-I’m here, always lurking, reblogging and reading and engaging, but my writing has been in a slump and on a personal hiatus for awhile now.
I go through stages with my hyper-fixations and my writing. I’m sorry for the lack of closure, I hope to maybe revisit the skz!pack universe again in the future.
Thank you all for loving that little world so much. 💜
it's actually sad how tumblr killed fandom culture on their own website just like that. yeah, people can still post their gifs/art/fics, but making every reblog its own chain + essentially giving credit to rebloggers individually and making it nearly impossible to access comments/tags as the original poster entirely defeats the purpose of being a creator on here. and while i appreciate the posts already going around encouraging people to engage with op's posts directly rather than through a reblog, it's just going to be ignored like every post pleading with people to reblog and engage with content to begin with
I KNEW dan and phil would understand the importance of shane needing to say it out loud to someone. most reactions I’ve watched, people just kind of laugh along with ilya and they don’t get where shane is coming from and it makes me feel insane
And my husband is gone all this week so I’m alone and just 😭😭😭😭
That being said. It’s a great time for me to bring out some more prompts and write some fun little one shots for y’all.
You know what to do. Select one or a couple prompts from the lists below and DM them to me with whatever skz/ateez/bts boys you want! Reader can totally be included or not. Your choice!
When you're in a constant, never ending battle inside your own head, who better to call upon than the God of War himself?
or
A retelling of Ares and Aphrodite where you're the good girl beaten down by a toxic relationship, he's the morally grey 'bad' guy with a motorcycle, and maybe, just maybe, each other is exactly what you both needed.
Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Skz Greek Gods AU, Ares, Aphrodite, femreader, y/n, seo changbin, changbin, bin, skz changbin, changbin x you, changbin x reader, seo changbin x you, seo changbin x reader, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz smut, skz fluff, skz angst, skz fic, skz drabble, fem reader, afab reader
A/N: For all of you who, like me, are absolute sluts for "Who did this to you?" and a powerful man on his knees before an even more powerful woman. This one's for you.
This one was a long labor of love, you guys. Hope you enjoy. <3
P.S. This is Changbin's motorcylce if you even care.
Soundtrack:
🛡️ State of My Head by Shinedown
🌹 Daydreams by We Three
🛡️ Bleed by Connor Kauffman
🌹 Cravin' by Stileto
🛡️ Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? By Taylor Swift
Title: The Rose and the Sword
You feel like you can't breathe.
You might vomit.
Fuck.
Why was he here? How did he know where you were? You'd thought, of all places, a mortal party would be safe, that he'd never debase himself enough to come here, you'd finally be outside of his clutches.
But he was here, and now, you were panicking.
Terrified.
Stomach in your throat, heart pounding in your ears.
Your barely healed over split lip seems to throb at the thought of him, as if it knows its bestower is near, hunting, stalking you.
Pushing past a few mortal party goers, their faces obscured by their masquerade masks, you ignore their yelps of outrage, stumbling around the nearest corner and down the darkened hallway beyond.
Exit, exit, where the fuck was the exit?
You can practically feel his hot breath on your neck, though you know it's just your imagination, and the thought makes your entire body go numb with fear.
You can't let him put his hands on you again. Not now, not ever.
With that thought, you take a sharp left around a second corner, into another hallway packed with bodies, the sound of the pounding music almost drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears, the sound of your panting breaths breaking harsh through your lips.
He's going to catch you, he's going to find you, and when he does-
No.
Before you can wonder what the hell you're doing, you flatten yourself against the wall and slide between someone's faceless body and the cool stone against your back, breathing frantic.
Glancing up, you note offhandedly that the person you've chosen to use as cover is tall, tall enough that they loom over you. When they turn, staring down at you, face obscured by the twisted angles of their lion's mask, mouth agape in a ferocious roar, you can't quite make out the color of their eyes, hidden in shadow.
"Please." You manage to get out around the lump in your throat, staring up into the dark recesses of the mask. "My ex-I just need to-"
You can't get the words out, your throat closes in fear as you hear his familiar voice at the end of the hall, angrily pushing through party goers.
The man towering over you stares down at you, not uttering a word, face expressionless, and you wonder, for the briefest of breathless moments, if he's going to move away, leaving you out in the open.
He has no obligation to help a strange woman begging for help at a party, after all.
But then, as your demise grows closer and closer still, the man leans forward suddenly, caging you back against the wall with his huge, beefy forearms, his muscular, broad body blocking you completely from view.
Your breath catches in your throat, you don't dare breathe, as his forehead meets yours and his shadow covers you completely.
You hold your breath, squeezing your eyes shut and not moving a muscle, as the angry voice of your pursuer sounds just to your left, pausing for a moment, before his harshly muttered sentiments recede down the hall, disappearing into the sounds of the revelers.
Without a word, the large man who just became your savior pulls back, straightening, and your breath tumbles out of you in one fell swoop, your fingers shaking at your side.
The music seems to come back into focus, and you're not sure when it had faded.
"Thank you." You stumble out, but he's already turning to leave, and you adjust your mask on your own face, swallowing hard.
Your resist the urge to call out to him as he disappears into the crowd.
He was a stranger after all.
A stranger first, your hero second.
With one last look, you search for the strange man, but he seems to have gone. You duck your head, and hurry from the party, leaving it all behind.
You're sure you'll never cross paths again.
Somewhere in the distance, the fates laughed.
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
Changbin's glove hits the bag again, harder this time.
Thwack.
Felix glances around from the other side, his brow arched, a mixture of admiration and concern twisting his pretty features.
Changbin ignores him, and sends another solid punch forward, grunting at the impact.
Thwack.
"You wanna talk about it?" Felix asks, finally stepping around the bag that Changbin is abusing, as he starts to unwind the wraps from his own hands, sweat glistening on the golden skin of his bare chest.
Changbin shakes his head and throws another series of hits, one after the other.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm sure I'll never see her again. But-fuck-"
He feels anger bubble into his throat at the thought of you-obviously terrified, begging a stranger for help like your life was in danger.
And judging by the split in your lip and the bruising he had seen around your eye, even with your mask and the dim lighting, he didn't doubt that maybe it really was.
He growls in frustration and hits the training bag with another series of violent throws, ignoring the growing ache in his knuckles.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.
"Okay." Felix steps between him and the bag as he takes a step back to adjust his footing, giving him a hard, pointed look that has him reluctantly lowering his gloves. "It seems like there's a lot to process here, but the punching bag is not at fault, so let's take a break-"
Changbin sighs and reaches down to strip off the first glove, tossing it to the side a little more aggressively than necessary.
Leave it to Felix to want to talk things through. Some therapeutic shit or something.
Changbin preferred to deal with his problems the old fashioned way, he always had.
Sweat them out, and if that wasn't an option, then fuck them out.
There was a reason the huge ass house he owned had been designed with a private state of the art gym, and a king bed in every room.
He crouches down on the mat, ripping his other glove off before he begins to unwind his wraps jerkily, ignoring the bleeding splits marking his knuckles.
Felix sits down across from him, watching him, and Changbin finally glances up, sending his best friend a glower. "What?"
The sun god merely shrugs and glances down at his own hands, before he tosses his wrap into his bag and reaches for a swig of his water.
"I dunno, kind of seems like you need to talk about some things."
"I don't." Changbin snaps back, clenching his jaw. His muscles ache, his entire body tense with irritation.
Felix doesn't give up. "I think you do, if the current state of your knuckles is any indication." He inclines his head toward Changbin's thrashed knuckles with a little smirk.
"Felix, I said-" His voice turns dangerous, his words slow, as if he's really trying to hit them home. "-I don't need to talk about it."
Felix, to his credit, doesn't look cowed in the slightest by the God of Wrath's obvious fury.
Changbin stands back up, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What I need, is to spar. So come on. Get up."
Felix sighs, but pushes himself to his own feet and silently begins to rewrap his hands as Changbin heads to the regulation size boxing ring in the very center of the gym.
He slides between the ropes, his own hands already stinging from before, and throws a few punches into the air experimentally.
Jab.
He doesn't need to talk about it.
Jab.
He's never let a woman stay in his head longer than a day.
Jab.
Tomorrow, he won't even remember your face.
Jab.
The fates are cruel, but surely not that cruel, right?
Felix appears before him, hands up and ready, and Changbin hits him immediately with a frantic flurry of throws.
He needs to get this tension, and you, out of his system, and fast.
The steady feel of his gloves glancing off of Felix's well timed defenses helps him steady his resolve.
He breathes evenly-in, out, in out.
And throws another round of punches.
Thwack.
Thwack.
He's already forgotten the twisted look of horror on your face. The ring of bruising around your eye. The desperate pull of your full lips as you begged him to protect you.
'Please.'
Thwack.
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
Thwack.
Your glove bounces off of Changbin's and he grins at you as he parries, readjusting on the balls of his feet as he dodges you easily.
"C'mon, princess, focus."
You grit your teeth and try to forget the sweat dripping down your spine, the feel of your hair plastered to your sticky, overheated skin.
You take in his position, and throw another punch, this one aimed for his side.
Your glove lands solidly, and Changbin grunts with the force of the impact, steadying you as your body collides with his on the follow up, your momentum driving you forward into him before you can right yourself.
You grin up at him, a brow arched as you both breathe heavily.
"Like that?"
"Yeah, fuck, princess-" He swears, wincing slightly, but grinning down at you proudly. "-just like that."
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
You don't know why you're here tonight.
Or maybe you do-because you're sure he won't be here tonight.
You can feel the eyes on you-the whispers and the glances at the bruising that still has yet to disappear beneath your eye-but you doggedly ignore them, taking a long sip of your ambrosia.
There is a commotion by the doors that lead into the grand ballroom, and offhandedly, your gaze draws to the men who enter-one with hair as yellow as the sun and a dainty beauty that puts even the women here to shame and the other large and muscular, wearing a breastplate-an odd choice for a party-and wickedly, dangerously handsome.
You're drawn to the latter of the two for some strange reason, and Artemis, standing beside you, must notice.
You feel her elbow you, and when you glance to her curiously she shakes her head at you with a knowing smirk.
"Oh, no girl, don't even go there." She warns you in a low voice, and Athena follows her gaze, nodding in agreement immediately. The huntress points toward the men with a tip of her glass. "You just got out of a shitty relationship, protecting your peace and all that, the God of War is hardly the person you want to look to right now."
Ares.
That's why he looked familiar.
There's a weird nagging in the back of your brain, that you're drawn to him for more than just the reason that you've heard about him, but you push it down, giving the huntresses a tight smile as you take another sip of your drink.
"Yeah, of course." You agree with a slight nod, but still, you find your gaze drawn back to the man in the chest plate.
You use the excuse of needing some fresh air to duck out the party a few hours later, heading for the glass doors that lead to the back balcony, and the ensuing acres of dark garden beyond.
The night is chilly, and the balcony and garden are lit up by hundreds of floating fairy lights, making the cobblestones and fountains almost seem surrealistic beneath the twinkle of the small lights.
Sighing, you lean against the railing, the sounds from the party drifting through the open doors behind you.
Tentatively, without really thinking about it, your fingers go up to your eye, cautiously feeling around the socket and wincing slightly when it's still tender to the touch.
You'd done your best to hide the bruising for the party, but it was still obvious-your skin mottled with varying hues of purple into blue into green.
There is the sound of a boot fall behind you, and you whirl, straightening up, because you're never quite out of fight or flight mode, even when you're supposed to be relaxed.
You have him to thank for that.
In front of you, bulky frame silhouetted against the open French doors, hands clenched at his sides, scowl on his handsome face, stands Ares.
Your breath catches in your throat.
The twinkling fairy lights reflect off the fine engraved metal that makes up his chest plate as he advances toward you, and you take a step back, lower back hitting the cold marble of the railing.
Panic claws its way up your throat, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage.
Maybe he'd seen you staring earlier? Maybe he thought you were being rude?
Frantic thoughts flit through your head as he takes another step and then stops, just a few feet away from you, his solid, heavy boots coming to a stop on the cobblestones beneath your feet.
"I-" You start to say, even though you have no idea where you're going to go with this or what your next words will be.
He narrows his eyes, gaze flicking across your face, and when he finally speaks his words are a growl. "Who did that to you?"
You stare at him dumbly. "What?"
He raises his chin toward your face, grinding his teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the way a muscle ticks beneath his skin.
"Your face."
You feel like you've been doused in cold water, your lips parting uselessly, your fingers going up unthinkingly to the bruising you know surrounds your eye.
He takes another step toward you, and you sidestep, back now hitting the brick that makes up the wall of the house.
One of his large hands goes down hard next to your head, making you jump slightly, fingers clenched into a fist, his knuckles whitening.
He's got you caged in, glaring down at you with fury in his dark eyes.
"Who the fuck did that to you?"
The dangerously cold tone to his words has a shiver running down your spine as you swallow.
You suddenly have the very clear intuition, like a heavy pit in your stomach, that if you were to give him a name, someone would no doubt end up dead tonight.
You swallow again, meeting his gaze, breath coming in little harsh exhales now.
And then it hits you.
Why you know him.
Your eyes widen.
"Lion mask."
He'd been the one who had fucking saved you at the party.
Brief confusion replaces the anger in his eyes, before his jaw tightens once more, that muscle ticking beneath his skin again in a way that has you wanting to trace a finger over it.
He huffs, and pushes himself off the wall, stepping back, putting space between you again.
You feel like you can breathe once more.
Simultaneously, at the same time, you feel like you've just lost all the air in your lungs.
Without another word or backward glance, he turns on his heel and stalks back through the doors into the party.
You slump against the wall, reaching out to the railing for support, your hands shaking slightly.
Dear Gods, you really hope that's the last time you have a run in with the God of War.
However, Fate is a fucking fickle thing, isn't it?
A fickle thing indeed.
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
You're coming out of your favorite coffee shop on Olympus-small and quaint, and filled with the freshest flowers, courtesy of Persephone-when you stop dead in your tracks, eyes going wide.
You must be delirious. You reach up and feel your own forehead, just for good measure, but you're not feverish, not even warm.
The god of war and wrath is standing in front of you.
Tall, imposing, impossibly broad arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down, he's dressed in dark jeans, a t-shirt, and leather jacket today, and he's leaning against-a motorcycle.
Because of fucking course he is.
You glance behind you, to make sure he's not pinning someone else beneath his sinfully dark gaze, but nope, the sidewalk is empty.
Well shit.
Against your better judgement, you take a step in his direction, fingers tightening subconsciously around your iced latte.
You swallow, fighting to keep your gaze on his and not look down at your feet, and manage a small, questioning, "Hi again?"
His features don't change, not even when he holds out a helmet in your direction.
You stare at the thing like it's a hydra with seven heads.
"What do-" You start to ask, and he juts his chin over his shoulder to the large bike he currently leans against.
"Get on."
It's a command, low, rough, but not dangerous, you don't think, and your stupid body, already used to following commands and not asking questions, lest you receive a punishment, is already trailing toward him.
"You trust too easily." He remarks in a low timber that has you glancing away, biting your lip, your cheeks reddening.
"I don't-" trust easily, you start to protest, but stop yourself, biting your tongue.
He's right. It's your greatest flaw.
You glance down at the offered helmet once more, and clearing your throat, you carefully set down your coffee, before you stand in front of him, head bowed, avoiding his gaze, your hands going to clench behind the small of your back.
You hear him sigh, and then the sound of a boot on the pavement as he takes a step toward you.
His finger goes beneath your chin, and you startle slightly at the contact, even as he raises your gaze to his own, his dark eyes suddenly swirling.
"Don't do that." He warns in a low, gravelly voice, and you part your lips to ask what he means, but he's already tugging the helmet down over your head expertly.
"But-" You hesitate, not quite studying him, as you flick your eyes over his features and then away again, trying not to shiver at the feel of his fingers brushing your throat as he buckles the straps beneath your chin. "-you're a god."
His eyes flash up to yours. "And you're a goddess." He counters right back, heat making his eyes impossibly dark as he meets your gaze. "But I'm starting to see that someone was incredibly keen on forcing you to forget that."
You stare at him in shock, eyes wide, lips parted, but he doesn't say anything else, flipping the visor down over your face with a flick of his fingers before he turns and swings a leg over the bike. He turns the key and roars the engine to life, and the low rumble that you can feel through the pavement makes a shiver run up your spine.
You're not entirely sure if it's fear or something else.
He glances to you, arching a brow, and you take that as a sign that you should move your ass.
Forgetting your latte on the sidewalk, not sure how you'd hold it anyway, you cautiously swing your leg over the seat behind him.
The bike purrs between your legs like a feral jungle animal, much like the mask its owner had worn at the party that fateful night.
Without warning, he reaches back with one large hand and gathers your wrists in the warmth of his palm, tugging your arms to go around his waist, even as you let out a little yelp of surprise and fall into the broadness of his back.
"Hold on tight." He admonishes you, glancing back at you for a brief moment before he revs the bike and you take off away from the curb in a peal of tires on pavement.
You shriek and cling to him so tightly you would worry if he were any one else that you were strangling the air from his lungs, burying your face into the leather that stretches across his back, eyes scrunched shut.
You're on a motorcycle, plastered to the God of Wrath, going hells knows where.
Fucking hells, what have you done?
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
Changbin has been steel hard ever since you willingly, without question, slid onto his bike behind him.
He adjusts himself subtly with one hand as he directs the motorcycle onto the straight way that leads back to his mansion, shifting slightly, but that makes it worse, because he's suddenly reminded of your heat at his back, your arms wrapped around his waist so tightly he can't think.
Fucking hells, he really needs to get a grip.
Trusting so blindly could get you into trouble-judging by the bruising he'd seen on your face a few times now, he has no doubt it already has-but at the same time, something primal within him purrs with satisfaction that you seem to put your faith in him so easily.
Pulling into the large garage, he kills the engine and the silence is deafening, his boots hitting the cement, putting the kickstand down as he slides off the bike with practiced ease.
He glances to you, and he can't read your expression beneath the visor of the helmet he'd fastened beneath your chin earlier.
Gods, your skin beneath his fingers-
He pushes the thought from his mind and ignores the aching erection pulsing beneath the stiff denim of his jeans, taking a step toward you and offering a hand when you still haven't moved.
You hesitate, and then put your hand into his and let him tug you off the back of the bike, albeit a little shakily, but you're on your feet.
He steps forward, pushing up the visor that obscures your face, and resists the urge to run his gaze over every inch of your expression, instead, focusing on his fingers as they move to unbuckle the straps beneath your chin.
"What are we doing here?" You ask, and your voice is small, unsure, and it makes Changbin's anger flare back to life in the pit of his stomach, like someone had told you at one point that you weren't allowed to ask questions and now you're scared to voice them.
The thought makes him see fucking red.
He tugs the helmet off and you swallow, but you don't run from him as he slides past you to put the helmet on the bike, the place where your arms brush sending sparks of electricity down his skin.
He glances to you, and taking a step back to put space between the two of you again, he crosses his arms over his chest, holding your gaze seriously.
The way you curl into yourself, like you're trying to make yourself smaller under his gaze, less of a target, just solidifies something in his very being that this is where you need to be.
Fates be damned, he's not gonna let whoever hurt you lay so much as a finger on you ever again.
His voice is rough with barely restrained anger-not with you, no, never with you, but you flinch anyway-when he speaks again.
"I'm going to teach you how to fight."
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
"You know, technically we don't even need to go to these things."
You glance up from where you stand in front of your vanity, finishing up a few touches on your hair and lipstick, at Changbin's voice as he emerges from the huge walk in closet, adjusting the cufflinks on his suit.
You bite back a grin, returning to looping your necklace around your throat and clasping it at the nape of your neck as you answer back thoughtfully, "Yes, but where's the fun in that?"
You hear him huff in response, swearing slightly, probably battling with his cufflinks still, and then the sound of his heavy footfalls behind you.
You glance up as he moves to stand at your back, towering over you, his broadness dwarfing you, as he puts his hands on your hips, and leans over to press a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, running his nose along your skin for a moment.
"You find these things fun?" He remarks back like he doesn't quite believe you, meeting your gaze in the reflection of the mirror, his fingers digging into the silken fabric of the gown you wear. "I think they're a huge waste of time and an excuse for Zeus to be vain and show off in front of his brothers. He just likes to remind them he holds the crown and they don't. It's a giant fucking pissing contest."
You laugh at that, setting down the lipstick you had just finished applying, and reach up, cupping his jaw with your fingers as you arch a brow at him in the mirror with the hint of a smirk.
"Yes, but also, it's an excuse for me to show you off, pet, and I like the jealous glares I get. It feeds my ego."
He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's biting back a grin of his own as he leans down and presses his lips to your pulse point once more.
"Yeah, yeah. Got it. I'm arm candy."
You turn and lean up on tiptoes to connect your lips with his for the briefest moment, careful of your lipstick, running your fingers along the strong line of his jaw before you pull back.
"That may be part of the truth, my love-" You tell him softly, lips curving slightly, as you reach up and brush away some rogue lipstick left behind at the corner of his mouth, your eyes flicking up to his. "-we do make an incredibly striking couple, but for a million other reasons, far more important, just know, there is no one I would rather have at my side than you."
********************
Changbin downs the small glass of ambrosia in his hand in one go, and once again, for the thousandth time that night, finds himself cursing these stupid fucking parties.
There's not enough booze, he hates wearing a fucking suit, and everyone is far too uptight, not to mention-
He finds his gaze drawn to you once more, across the space of the open garden, the twinkling fairy lights magicked to dance above the partygoers heads lighting up the shine of your hair as you tip your head back and laugh at something Artemis must have said.
The open back of the dress you wear reveals flawless skin criss-crossed with tinkling delicate silver chains, all the way down to your hips, leaving little to the imagination, and the front is just as plunging, a deep V between the perfect hills of your breasts.
Changbin groans inwardly, as he reaches for another glass of ambrosia off a passing satyr's tray and downs it unceremoniously.
Fuck, he'd really just like to have you all to himself right now, completely at his mercy.
Instead, he's here, and you're there, faking conversation and smiles for the sake of the fucking party.
If you can even call it a party, it's more of a massive fucking cock block at this point.
He scoffs silently and adjusts himself subtly in the pants of his suit.
Luckily, before he can get too fucking hard watching you, his attention is drawn elsewhere.
"Brother." Kratos steps up beside him, champagne flute held between delicate long fingers, his pale, almost white hair slicked back from his forehead, his translucent blue eyes scanning to Changbin in a sort of disdain look before he glances back over the party.
Changbin's never liked the guy, and they're only half brothers at best, but he forces his greeting out somewhat semi cordially anyway with a nod and a grunted, "Kratos" in return.
The god of strength takes a long sip of his drink, and then his eyes skate back over to Changbin in a way that makes his skin crawl.
"You know I don't need to tell you that you shouldn't have let my dear sister in law out of the house looking like that, especially not with her-" His lips pull into a sneer slightly, and Changbin feels himself instantly bristling in response. "-powers and proclivities."
Changbin's gaze follows Kratos' back to you, tilting your head toward Athena as you listen to something she's saying low in your ear, and his eyes are drawn to the bare line of your shoulder, the shadows darkening the notches between your spine, the curling lines of the tattoo that just peaks out from the plunging back of your dress.
His knuckles go white around the glass he's holding, his jaw popping as he grits his teeth.
"Not that it's any of your fucking business-" He finally manages to get out, faking a meter of calm as he glances away from you and back to the man at his side, who is watching him now with a knowing smirk and a cocked brow. Changbin has to force himself not to smash the glass in between his too tight fingers. "-but my wife can wear whatever the fuck she damn well pleases."
Kratos scoffs at that, annoyance flashing across his too pretty features as he rolls his eyes. "Oh please. And I suppose now is the part where you tell me, rather clichély at that, that that's because 'you know how to fight'?"
"No." Changbin shakes his head, and he gives the other man a sudden sharp toothed, dangerous, predatory smile, one that has Kratos obviously swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he takes a wavering step back.
"Because she does."
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
It's the third time you've trained with Changbin.
And you're not making any progress.
Your hits are still clumsy and way too soft, not precise at all, and your defensive maneuvers are even worse.
You can tell he's pulling his punches to keep from actually hurting you, but no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to avoid his hits, ending each session with bruises and scrapes, and an entirely too familiar sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach-failure.
You're a failure, and he's getting frustrated with you, just like everyone always does when you can't live up to their expectations.
So you're not surprised when he snaps today, blowing out a harsh breath, tugging off his gloves and tossing them on the floor of the ring at his feet, his chest heaving-whether from exertion or anger, you're not sure, but you'd guess the latter-especially judging from the darkening of his gaze as it narrows in on you.
"You have fists, do you not?" He asks in open irritation, eyes flashing, and your mouth falls open slightly, not really sure what he's expecting your response to be.
"Yes?" You reply back in a hesitant tone, and he takes a step toward you, and you instinctively shrink back from him.
His voice drops into a dangerous growl as he advances toward you. "Then fucking use them."
It's an instinct, you know that, to curl in on yourself, make yourself a smaller target, maybe avoid a bit of the fury, the punishment, coming your way.
Your arms curl around your ribcage and you won't meet his angry gaze.
Felix-the sun god-who you've met several times now, who always seems to be in the gym, working out at the same time as the two of you, who seems to be one of the God of Wrath's few friends, gets to his feet outside the ring, watching the interaction warily.
"Changbin." He warns in a low tone.
Changbin pays him no heed, attention focused purely on you.
"You're not even trying-" He chastises you, voice quivering slightly with held back fury, as he takes another step toward you, narrowing the gap. You feel as if you can't breathe. "-and I fucking hate that." His glare darkens, and his hands, wrapped around the knuckles, form angry, shaking fists at his side. His voice raises. "Hit me. Hurt me. Just fucking try something, for gods sakes!"
You swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry as he closes the last distance between you, your back hitting the ropes, and you duck your head, closing your eyes and digging your nails into the palms of your hands, hidden beneath the thick boxing gloves, readying yourself for the sting of a slap you already know is coming, you've already prepared for.
Suddenly, Felix is between the two of you, his tall body blocking your own, his hands going to shove at Changbin's chest, pushing him back a step.
"Changbin, mate-" He admonishes again, this time in a dangerously serious, louder tone. "-lower your fucking voice, okay? Can't you see she's terrified?"
Changbin stares at him for a long moment, his hands still balled into fists, and then he blinks, and blinks again, before his gaze moves past his friend to where you cower back against the ropes, arms wrapped around yourself as if to hold it together.
Suddenly, he takes a step back, and then another.
"Fuck." He swears, reaching up to rake an agitated hand through his thick dark hair, before he turns and ducks beneath the ropes of the ring.
"Fuck." He says again, louder this time, as he shoves over one of the punching bags, sending it clattering to the floor, on his way to the door. "Fuck!"
Felix turns to you, your eyes wide, your chest still heaving in panicked breaths.
He gives you the hint of a regretful smile, his large golden eyes soft beneath the fringe of his almost blindingly blonde hair.
Like the sun, you think vaguely.
"He's not angry with you, you know." He murmurs gently, as the door slams behind the disappearing god of wrath, making you both wince.
You swallow hard, and give a slight nod, slowly unwrapping your arms from around your ribs. "I know."
Do you?
You don't know how, but beneath the instinctual panic, for the first time in your life, you somehow do.
*********
"Sloppy." Changbin tells you in a bored sort of voice, as he once again, easily, blocks your jab with an almost nonchalant parry, and you grit your teeth as you have to take a step back to regain your balance, reaching up to swipe at the sweat gathering on your forehead with a forearm.
"You don't have to be such a dick, you know." You manage to get out between catching your breath, getting back into position even as he crooks his hand at you and readies up himself.
"I'm not being a dick-" He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, as you head for him again and once more, he dodges you easily, and you make a sound of frustration. "-I'm being hard on you because if you fight like this when it really matters, your opponent isn't going to be as forgiving as I am."
You heave in a breath, and then another, aware that across the ring, he seems to have hardly broken a sweat.
It's fucking infuriating, and you can feel the anger making your blood hot the longer this goes on.
"Oh, yeah? Well, if you're not being a dick, then don't fucking act like one." You counter back boldly, and Changbin arches a brow, studying you curiously for a moment.
It's the first time you've ever talked back to him-or anyone-for that matter.
And it feels good.
You take another go at him, and this time, when your glove doesn't make contact, and Changbin utters another, 'half-assed', you let the anger rising in your gut fuel you, and immediately round on him for another hit, not giving him time to reset in between.
He still manages to parry, of course, but you can tell you catch him off guard by the way a slight smirk graces his lips.
"You're fucking infuriating, you know that?" You seethe, even as you send a flurry of quicker blows in his direction, trying to catch him on the wrong foot and land something, anything.
"Yeah, and you're still fucking weak, princess, so how about we don't waste precious breath on things we both already know?" He counters right back, and hot anger flushes your already exertion reddened cheeks.
"Is this what you fucking want?" You spit back, as you manage to make him take a step toward the ropes, and you see slight surprise in his eyes at the power behind the next blow he knocks away. "To make me fucking mad?"
"I want-" He grunts out, narrowly dodging another swing from your glove, and you feel weirdly smug at the way he's breathing harder now. "-you to hold your fucking own. Whatever you need to do that is just a means to an end."
You swing at him with a cry, and you're shocked when your glove connects solidly with his ribs.
You freeze, and both of you stand there for a moment, breathing hard, staring down the miniscule distance between each other.
"There she is." Changbin murmurs in between breaths, and you hate how warm the begrudging respect in his dark eyes makes your already flushed skin. "That's what I've been looking for. Anger."
"You're a fucking asshole, trying to get a rise out of me like that." You pant back, eyes flashing dangerously, as you drop your glove from his ribs and he straightens. "You're just trying to piss me off."
His lips curve into a smirk. "I'm not trying to do anything." He counters back. "You had it in you all along. I was just trying to get you to see that you don't need fucking anyone, except you. You did that, nobody else."
His words reverberate around your skull and sink into your bones.
"Still an asshole move." You mutter back begrudgingly, and he grins.
"Yeah, well, I never claimed not to be an asshole, princess. It's part of my charm."
Suddenly, without thinking, you rear back and hit him square in the face.
He stumbles back, and immediately, your entire body goes numb as carefully, slowly, he reaches up and swipes at the blood now trickling from his nose, staring at it on his fingers, before he glances back to you.
His eyes darken, and you shrink, immediately caving in as you know punishment is coming. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
He stares at you, eyes darkening even further, and you bite down so hard on your tongue you taste the familiar tang of copper.
"Atta-fucking-girl." He growls, taking a step toward you, closing the distance, and your jaw drops, your mind going blank.
His large hand goes to the back of your head instantly, fingers tangling into your hair, and he tugs you to him, crashing his mouth into yours.
You can taste the blood on his tongue-whether it be your own or his you're not sure-but immediately, he's delving into you wildly, passionately, and you find yourself responding in kind, your body taking what it needs from him almost with the same frenzy.
He takes you with him as he ducks beneath the ropes, his mouth never leaving yours, guiding you blindly down from the ring, and neither of you stops to surface for breath until the backs of your knees are hitting a chair, and Changbin's pulling away so he can focus on tugging down the leggings you wear.
"Changbin-" You breathe, and he gives a slight shake of his head, pulling off your pants and dropping them to the floor before he takes a few steps back, shutting the door that leads from the private gym.
You stare at him, wide eyed, suddenly conscious to the fact that you're bare from the waist down, sitting in front of him.
And gods, you really need his mouth back on yours.
"Changbin-" It comes off as more of a whine this time, and you find yourself reaching out, fingers searching for his beltloops to tug him back to you.
Instantly, he pushes away your hands, his back hitting the door with a thud as he shakes his head again.
"Uh, uh, princess." He pins you down with eyes the color of flaming coal. "I'm not gonna lay a fucking finger on you until you've made yourself come."
Your mouth drops open at that, and heat floods your cheeks.
Changbin grins in a predatory fashion, his eyes skimming over you, tracing down to the way your thighs rub together subtly for friction, your knuckles white from gripping the edges of the chair.
"I want you to see you've got all the fucking power here. You're capable of making yourself feel incredible fucking pleasure, and you don't need anyone else to do it."
You stare at him, letting his words sink in, and then, before you can talk yourself out of it, or doubt, you slowly let your hand slide down between the juncture of your thighs, touching the wetness there.
You start upward as your fingers find your clit, your mouth dropping open on a stuttered gasp, and Changbin groans in response, letting his head fall back against the door, his eyes never leaving you, tracking what you're doing through a hooded gaze.
"That's it, princess, fuck, just like that."
You let yourself slide a finger inside as you watch him reach down a hand and palm the obvious erection growing through his pants.
It's invigorating, thrilling even, to know you're holding your own pleasure in your hand, and causing such an intense reaction in him just by watching simultaneously.
It's heady, and you can feel your pleasure pooling in your core in tight coils as you continue to massage and please yourself with your fingers, keeping your eyes on his.
When you gasp and send yourself over the edge, milking yourself through orgasm with slick fingers, whimpers leaving your lips, vision going hazy with stars for a few long moments, a throaty groan leaves Changbin's lips, as if torn from deep inside.
It makes you plummet even harder and faster than before, and you find yourself panting through one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had.
When you can see again, and the stars have faded, you pull your slick fingers out, and glance to Changbin, and your breath hitches at the sight of him sinking down to his hands and knees, crawling toward you, eyes dark and predatory.
"Don't-" You start to protest, but he reaches you and putting a palm on your knees, knocks your thighs apart, spreading you wide open to him.
"Let me see." He commands in a rasping purr, and you watch as he leans forward and kisses his way up your inner thigh slowly, sending a shudder up your spine.
He glances up at you. "I intend to spend every day on my knees for you, princess, worshipping every inch of you the way you deserve."
"Gods-" He continues, trailing his lips up your inner thigh, licking at the slick that still coats your skin. His fingers dig into your skin. "-you're so fucking p-"
You feel yourself hollow out. Time seems to stop.
Here it comes.
What every fucking person you've ever been with, given exactly what they wanted, ends up saying at the end, after you have nothing left.
'So fucking-'
-pretty.'
-perfect.'
It's always the same superficial compliments, observations, and it leaves you feeling more empty than before.
"-powerful." He finishes, stroking a finger down your inner thigh, moving his gaze across you slowly, respectfully, as if in awe.
You stare at him, mind taking a moment to comprehend, jaw slightly slack.
'You're so fucking powerful.'
Not pretty, not perfect, powerful.
His words send pools of warmth down into your lower stomach and core and you thread your fingers through the thick locks of his dark hair as he holds your gaze.
You swallow, and when you speak, your voice comes out on a soft shaky breath.
"So make good on your earlier promise then, and worship me."
He grins, ducking his head to suck a long open mouthed kiss just above your heat that has you shivering.
"Gladly."
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
You walk past the loud, drunken mortals, arm slipped through Changbin's, and just catch the tale end of one of their comments as they pass.
"-dressed like that, she's practically begging to be choking on my cock-
Immediately, you stiffen, and Changbin releases you, turning slowly to face the stumbling men, his eyes gleaming predatorily.
"What the fuck did you just say about her?" He growls out.
The man who had spoken foolishly turns to squint at Changbin, his gaze unfocused, his expression souring.
They don't recognize you in your mortal glamours, because if they did, the man would surely be backtracking heavily by now.
Instead, he simply sneers and repeats, "Said your broad over there is practically asking to be choking on my c-"
Before he can get the sentence out again, Changbin is at his throat, hand around his neck, lifting him up into the air as his back hits the wall of the nearby bar, his breath leaving his lungs in an audible whoosh.
"I know what you fucking said, scum, I wasn't asking you so you could repeat it, I was asking you to give you a chance to change it." Changbin growls out dangerously, eyes flashing and face a mask of fury that has the man blanching.
The man claws wildly at Changbin's fingers wrapped around his throat, his eyes bulging, his face turning red. He wildly flicks his gaze to you. "C'mon, lady, put your fucking dog on a leash-"
You step up beside them then, own eyes darkening in a warning.
"Changbin." You say in an eerily calm, cool voice. "Put him down."
Changbin does as you ask, releasing the man, who drops to the ground at his feet like a drunken sack of potatoes, a stream of unintelligible curses spewing from his mouth.
Stepping forward, you don't give the man a chance to catch his breath before you're hooking his jaw with your palm, and sliding three of your fingers into his mouth.
He gags, struggling against your hold, as you pin down his tongue, shoving your fingers just far enough into the back of his throat that you can feel the fleshy bit there, stuttering his breath, saliva pooling and dribbling down his lips as he tries to expel your fingers from his mouth.
You crouch down then, going eye to eye with him, expression and voice level.
"And here you were before, thinking I would be the one gagging." You observe casually, watching the way he struggles.
"Now, I don't give a fuck what you say about me-" You muse almost boredly, cocking your head slightly as you shove your fingers farther down his throat and he gags around them. "-though I'd be careful, because he's liable to take your head off." I motion over my shoulder with a tilt of my head to the watching Changbin looming behind me.
Another push, another retch around the intrusion of your fingers finding their way down his throat.
You lean your head toward his, lowering your voice. "However, if you ever fucking talk about him like that again, I will rip out your tongue, and then your balls, are we clear?"
The man nods frantically, eyes watering and face red, lips stretched around your fingers.
You pull them from his mouth and stand, and he goes over on all fours, retching and coughing and spewing spittle onto the ground as he tries to regain his breath.
You wipe your fingers on the skirt of your dress, eying him with nothing short of disdain as you stare down at him on the ground at your feet.
"You look good on your hands and knees at my feet like that. Maybe you should consider the whole dog title you were throwing around so carelessly earlier." You muse, before you turn from him and tilt your head toward Changbin and the direction you were headed earlier.
Changbin buries the toe of his boot into the man's abdomen, sending him keeling over in another gasping fit, before he turns and follows you, offering you his arm once more.
Leaning his head against yours, he grins down at you. "Gods, princess. You're so fucking powerful."
You tilt your head and smile up at him, and he leans down to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss.
It's become the way he compliments you over all these years-all 'I love you' and 'I admire you' and 'I'm so lucky to have you' rolled up into one-and it means more to you than anything anyone's ever called you in all your eons of being the goddess of love.
Not pretty. Not perfect. Not precious.
Powerful.
And it's thanks to him, because he reminded you what it was like to be loved and cherished and respected, but he's right, it's always been there, all thanks to you.
@melleus tags like these on reblogs are why I write.
Because you GET IT.
Changbin had the means to protect her, he could’ve without lifting a finger, but he wanted HER to see how powerful and capable she was of protecting herself on her own.
When you're in a constant, never ending battle inside your own head, who better to call upon than the God of War himself?
or
A retelling of Ares and Aphrodite where you're the good girl beaten down by a toxic relationship, he's the morally grey 'bad' guy with a motorcycle, and maybe, just maybe, each other is exactly what you both needed.
Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, SKZ x you, SKZ x reader, Skz Greek Gods AU, Ares, Aphrodite, femreader, y/n, seo changbin, changbin, bin, skz changbin, changbin x you, changbin x reader, seo changbin x you, seo changbin x reader, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios, skz smut, skz fluff, skz angst, skz fic, skz drabble, fem reader, afab reader
A/N: For all of you who, like me, are absolute sluts for "Who did this to you?" and a powerful man on his knees before an even more powerful woman. This one's for you.
This one was a long labor of love, you guys. Hope you enjoy. <3
P.S. This is Changbin's motorcylce if you even care.
Soundtrack:
🛡️ State of My Head by Shinedown
🌹 Daydreams by We Three
🛡️ Bleed by Connor Kauffman
🌹 Cravin' by Stileto
🛡️ Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? By Taylor Swift
Title: The Rose and the Sword
You feel like you can't breathe.
You might vomit.
Fuck.
Why was he here? How did he know where you were? You'd thought, of all places, a mortal party would be safe, that he'd never debase himself enough to come here, you'd finally be outside of his clutches.
But he was here, and now, you were panicking.
Terrified.
Stomach in your throat, heart pounding in your ears.
Your barely healed over split lip seems to throb at the thought of him, as if it knows its bestower is near, hunting, stalking you.
Pushing past a few mortal party goers, their faces obscured by their masquerade masks, you ignore their yelps of outrage, stumbling around the nearest corner and down the darkened hallway beyond.
Exit, exit, where the fuck was the exit?
You can practically feel his hot breath on your neck, though you know it's just your imagination, and the thought makes your entire body go numb with fear.
You can't let him put his hands on you again. Not now, not ever.
With that thought, you take a sharp left around a second corner, into another hallway packed with bodies, the sound of the pounding music almost drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears, the sound of your panting breaths breaking harsh through your lips.
He's going to catch you, he's going to find you, and when he does-
No.
Before you can wonder what the hell you're doing, you flatten yourself against the wall and slide between someone's faceless body and the cool stone against your back, breathing frantic.
Glancing up, you note offhandedly that the person you've chosen to use as cover is tall, tall enough that they loom over you. When they turn, staring down at you, face obscured by the twisted angles of their lion's mask, mouth agape in a ferocious roar, you can't quite make out the color of their eyes, hidden in shadow.
"Please." You manage to get out around the lump in your throat, staring up into the dark recesses of the mask. "My ex-I just need to-"
You can't get the words out, your throat closes in fear as you hear his familiar voice at the end of the hall, angrily pushing through party goers.
The man towering over you stares down at you, not uttering a word, face expressionless, and you wonder, for the briefest of breathless moments, if he's going to move away, leaving you out in the open.
He has no obligation to help a strange woman begging for help at a party, after all.
But then, as your demise grows closer and closer still, the man leans forward suddenly, caging you back against the wall with his huge, beefy forearms, his muscular, broad body blocking you completely from view.
Your breath catches in your throat, you don't dare breathe, as his forehead meets yours and his shadow covers you completely.
You hold your breath, squeezing your eyes shut and not moving a muscle, as the angry voice of your pursuer sounds just to your left, pausing for a moment, before his harshly muttered sentiments recede down the hall, disappearing into the sounds of the revelers.
Without a word, the large man who just became your savior pulls back, straightening, and your breath tumbles out of you in one fell swoop, your fingers shaking at your side.
The music seems to come back into focus, and you're not sure when it had faded.
"Thank you." You stumble out, but he's already turning to leave, and you adjust your mask on your own face, swallowing hard.
Your resist the urge to call out to him as he disappears into the crowd.
He was a stranger after all.
A stranger first, your hero second.
With one last look, you search for the strange man, but he seems to have gone. You duck your head, and hurry from the party, leaving it all behind.
You're sure you'll never cross paths again.
Somewhere in the distance, the fates laughed.
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
Changbin's glove hits the bag again, harder this time.
Thwack.
Felix glances around from the other side, his brow arched, a mixture of admiration and concern twisting his pretty features.
Changbin ignores him, and sends another solid punch forward, grunting at the impact.
Thwack.
"You wanna talk about it?" Felix asks, finally stepping around the bag that Changbin is abusing, as he starts to unwind the wraps from his own hands, sweat glistening on the golden skin of his bare chest.
Changbin shakes his head and throws another series of hits, one after the other.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
"There's nothing to talk about. I'm sure I'll never see her again. But-fuck-"
He feels anger bubble into his throat at the thought of you-obviously terrified, begging a stranger for help like your life was in danger.
And judging by the split in your lip and the bruising he had seen around your eye, even with your mask and the dim lighting, he didn't doubt that maybe it really was.
He growls in frustration and hits the training bag with another series of violent throws, ignoring the growing ache in his knuckles.
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.
"Okay." Felix steps between him and the bag as he takes a step back to adjust his footing, giving him a hard, pointed look that has him reluctantly lowering his gloves. "It seems like there's a lot to process here, but the punching bag is not at fault, so let's take a break-"
Changbin sighs and reaches down to strip off the first glove, tossing it to the side a little more aggressively than necessary.
Leave it to Felix to want to talk things through. Some therapeutic shit or something.
Changbin preferred to deal with his problems the old fashioned way, he always had.
Sweat them out, and if that wasn't an option, then fuck them out.
There was a reason the huge ass house he owned had been designed with a private state of the art gym, and a king bed in every room.
He crouches down on the mat, ripping his other glove off before he begins to unwind his wraps jerkily, ignoring the bleeding splits marking his knuckles.
Felix sits down across from him, watching him, and Changbin finally glances up, sending his best friend a glower. "What?"
The sun god merely shrugs and glances down at his own hands, before he tosses his wrap into his bag and reaches for a swig of his water.
"I dunno, kind of seems like you need to talk about some things."
"I don't." Changbin snaps back, clenching his jaw. His muscles ache, his entire body tense with irritation.
Felix doesn't give up. "I think you do, if the current state of your knuckles is any indication." He inclines his head toward Changbin's thrashed knuckles with a little smirk.
"Felix, I said-" His voice turns dangerous, his words slow, as if he's really trying to hit them home. "-I don't need to talk about it."
Felix, to his credit, doesn't look cowed in the slightest by the God of Wrath's obvious fury.
Changbin stands back up, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "What I need, is to spar. So come on. Get up."
Felix sighs, but pushes himself to his own feet and silently begins to rewrap his hands as Changbin heads to the regulation size boxing ring in the very center of the gym.
He slides between the ropes, his own hands already stinging from before, and throws a few punches into the air experimentally.
Jab.
He doesn't need to talk about it.
Jab.
He's never let a woman stay in his head longer than a day.
Jab.
Tomorrow, he won't even remember your face.
Jab.
The fates are cruel, but surely not that cruel, right?
Felix appears before him, hands up and ready, and Changbin hits him immediately with a frantic flurry of throws.
He needs to get this tension, and you, out of his system, and fast.
The steady feel of his gloves glancing off of Felix's well timed defenses helps him steady his resolve.
He breathes evenly-in, out, in out.
And throws another round of punches.
Thwack.
Thwack.
He's already forgotten the twisted look of horror on your face. The ring of bruising around your eye. The desperate pull of your full lips as you begged him to protect you.
'Please.'
Thwack.
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
Thwack.
Your glove bounces off of Changbin's and he grins at you as he parries, readjusting on the balls of his feet as he dodges you easily.
"C'mon, princess, focus."
You grit your teeth and try to forget the sweat dripping down your spine, the feel of your hair plastered to your sticky, overheated skin.
You take in his position, and throw another punch, this one aimed for his side.
Your glove lands solidly, and Changbin grunts with the force of the impact, steadying you as your body collides with his on the follow up, your momentum driving you forward into him before you can right yourself.
You grin up at him, a brow arched as you both breathe heavily.
"Like that?"
"Yeah, fuck, princess-" He swears, wincing slightly, but grinning down at you proudly. "-just like that."
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
You don't know why you're here tonight.
Or maybe you do-because you're sure he won't be here tonight.
You can feel the eyes on you-the whispers and the glances at the bruising that still has yet to disappear beneath your eye-but you doggedly ignore them, taking a long sip of your ambrosia.
There is a commotion by the doors that lead into the grand ballroom, and offhandedly, your gaze draws to the men who enter-one with hair as yellow as the sun and a dainty beauty that puts even the women here to shame and the other large and muscular, wearing a breastplate-an odd choice for a party-and wickedly, dangerously handsome.
You're drawn to the latter of the two for some strange reason, and Artemis, standing beside you, must notice.
You feel her elbow you, and when you glance to her curiously she shakes her head at you with a knowing smirk.
"Oh, no girl, don't even go there." She warns you in a low voice, and Athena follows her gaze, nodding in agreement immediately. The huntress points toward the men with a tip of her glass. "You just got out of a shitty relationship, protecting your peace and all that, the God of War is hardly the person you want to look to right now."
Ares.
That's why he looked familiar.
There's a weird nagging in the back of your brain, that you're drawn to him for more than just the reason that you've heard about him, but you push it down, giving the huntresses a tight smile as you take another sip of your drink.
"Yeah, of course." You agree with a slight nod, but still, you find your gaze drawn back to the man in the chest plate.
You use the excuse of needing some fresh air to duck out the party a few hours later, heading for the glass doors that lead to the back balcony, and the ensuing acres of dark garden beyond.
The night is chilly, and the balcony and garden are lit up by hundreds of floating fairy lights, making the cobblestones and fountains almost seem surrealistic beneath the twinkle of the small lights.
Sighing, you lean against the railing, the sounds from the party drifting through the open doors behind you.
Tentatively, without really thinking about it, your fingers go up to your eye, cautiously feeling around the socket and wincing slightly when it's still tender to the touch.
You'd done your best to hide the bruising for the party, but it was still obvious-your skin mottled with varying hues of purple into blue into green.
There is the sound of a boot fall behind you, and you whirl, straightening up, because you're never quite out of fight or flight mode, even when you're supposed to be relaxed.
You have him to thank for that.
In front of you, bulky frame silhouetted against the open French doors, hands clenched at his sides, scowl on his handsome face, stands Ares.
Your breath catches in your throat.
The twinkling fairy lights reflect off the fine engraved metal that makes up his chest plate as he advances toward you, and you take a step back, lower back hitting the cold marble of the railing.
Panic claws its way up your throat, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage.
Maybe he'd seen you staring earlier? Maybe he thought you were being rude?
Frantic thoughts flit through your head as he takes another step and then stops, just a few feet away from you, his solid, heavy boots coming to a stop on the cobblestones beneath your feet.
"I-" You start to say, even though you have no idea where you're going to go with this or what your next words will be.
He narrows his eyes, gaze flicking across your face, and when he finally speaks his words are a growl. "Who did that to you?"
You stare at him dumbly. "What?"
He raises his chin toward your face, grinding his teeth, his jaw clenched so tightly you can see the way a muscle ticks beneath his skin.
"Your face."
You feel like you've been doused in cold water, your lips parting uselessly, your fingers going up unthinkingly to the bruising you know surrounds your eye.
He takes another step toward you, and you sidestep, back now hitting the brick that makes up the wall of the house.
One of his large hands goes down hard next to your head, making you jump slightly, fingers clenched into a fist, his knuckles whitening.
He's got you caged in, glaring down at you with fury in his dark eyes.
"Who the fuck did that to you?"
The dangerously cold tone to his words has a shiver running down your spine as you swallow.
You suddenly have the very clear intuition, like a heavy pit in your stomach, that if you were to give him a name, someone would no doubt end up dead tonight.
You swallow again, meeting his gaze, breath coming in little harsh exhales now.
And then it hits you.
Why you know him.
Your eyes widen.
"Lion mask."
He'd been the one who had fucking saved you at the party.
Brief confusion replaces the anger in his eyes, before his jaw tightens once more, that muscle ticking beneath his skin again in a way that has you wanting to trace a finger over it.
He huffs, and pushes himself off the wall, stepping back, putting space between you again.
You feel like you can breathe once more.
Simultaneously, at the same time, you feel like you've just lost all the air in your lungs.
Without another word or backward glance, he turns on his heel and stalks back through the doors into the party.
You slump against the wall, reaching out to the railing for support, your hands shaking slightly.
Dear Gods, you really hope that's the last time you have a run in with the God of War.
However, Fate is a fucking fickle thing, isn't it?
A fickle thing indeed.
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
You're coming out of your favorite coffee shop on Olympus-small and quaint, and filled with the freshest flowers, courtesy of Persephone-when you stop dead in your tracks, eyes going wide.
You must be delirious. You reach up and feel your own forehead, just for good measure, but you're not feverish, not even warm.
The god of war and wrath is standing in front of you.
Tall, imposing, impossibly broad arms crossed over his chest as he stares you down, he's dressed in dark jeans, a t-shirt, and leather jacket today, and he's leaning against-a motorcycle.
Because of fucking course he is.
You glance behind you, to make sure he's not pinning someone else beneath his sinfully dark gaze, but nope, the sidewalk is empty.
Well shit.
Against your better judgement, you take a step in his direction, fingers tightening subconsciously around your iced latte.
You swallow, fighting to keep your gaze on his and not look down at your feet, and manage a small, questioning, "Hi again?"
His features don't change, not even when he holds out a helmet in your direction.
You stare at the thing like it's a hydra with seven heads.
"What do-" You start to ask, and he juts his chin over his shoulder to the large bike he currently leans against.
"Get on."
It's a command, low, rough, but not dangerous, you don't think, and your stupid body, already used to following commands and not asking questions, lest you receive a punishment, is already trailing toward him.
"You trust too easily." He remarks in a low timber that has you glancing away, biting your lip, your cheeks reddening.
"I don't-" trust easily, you start to protest, but stop yourself, biting your tongue.
He's right. It's your greatest flaw.
You glance down at the offered helmet once more, and clearing your throat, you carefully set down your coffee, before you stand in front of him, head bowed, avoiding his gaze, your hands going to clench behind the small of your back.
You hear him sigh, and then the sound of a boot on the pavement as he takes a step toward you.
His finger goes beneath your chin, and you startle slightly at the contact, even as he raises your gaze to his own, his dark eyes suddenly swirling.
"Don't do that." He warns in a low, gravelly voice, and you part your lips to ask what he means, but he's already tugging the helmet down over your head expertly.
"But-" You hesitate, not quite studying him, as you flick your eyes over his features and then away again, trying not to shiver at the feel of his fingers brushing your throat as he buckles the straps beneath your chin. "-you're a god."
His eyes flash up to yours. "And you're a goddess." He counters right back, heat making his eyes impossibly dark as he meets your gaze. "But I'm starting to see that someone was incredibly keen on forcing you to forget that."
You stare at him in shock, eyes wide, lips parted, but he doesn't say anything else, flipping the visor down over your face with a flick of his fingers before he turns and swings a leg over the bike. He turns the key and roars the engine to life, and the low rumble that you can feel through the pavement makes a shiver run up your spine.
You're not entirely sure if it's fear or something else.
He glances to you, arching a brow, and you take that as a sign that you should move your ass.
Forgetting your latte on the sidewalk, not sure how you'd hold it anyway, you cautiously swing your leg over the seat behind him.
The bike purrs between your legs like a feral jungle animal, much like the mask its owner had worn at the party that fateful night.
Without warning, he reaches back with one large hand and gathers your wrists in the warmth of his palm, tugging your arms to go around his waist, even as you let out a little yelp of surprise and fall into the broadness of his back.
"Hold on tight." He admonishes you, glancing back at you for a brief moment before he revs the bike and you take off away from the curb in a peal of tires on pavement.
You shriek and cling to him so tightly you would worry if he were any one else that you were strangling the air from his lungs, burying your face into the leather that stretches across his back, eyes scrunched shut.
You're on a motorcycle, plastered to the God of Wrath, going hells knows where.
Fucking hells, what have you done?
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
Changbin has been steel hard ever since you willingly, without question, slid onto his bike behind him.
He adjusts himself subtly with one hand as he directs the motorcycle onto the straight way that leads back to his mansion, shifting slightly, but that makes it worse, because he's suddenly reminded of your heat at his back, your arms wrapped around his waist so tightly he can't think.
Fucking hells, he really needs to get a grip.
Trusting so blindly could get you into trouble-judging by the bruising he'd seen on your face a few times now, he has no doubt it already has-but at the same time, something primal within him purrs with satisfaction that you seem to put your faith in him so easily.
Pulling into the large garage, he kills the engine and the silence is deafening, his boots hitting the cement, putting the kickstand down as he slides off the bike with practiced ease.
He glances to you, and he can't read your expression beneath the visor of the helmet he'd fastened beneath your chin earlier.
Gods, your skin beneath his fingers-
He pushes the thought from his mind and ignores the aching erection pulsing beneath the stiff denim of his jeans, taking a step toward you and offering a hand when you still haven't moved.
You hesitate, and then put your hand into his and let him tug you off the back of the bike, albeit a little shakily, but you're on your feet.
He steps forward, pushing up the visor that obscures your face, and resists the urge to run his gaze over every inch of your expression, instead, focusing on his fingers as they move to unbuckle the straps beneath your chin.
"What are we doing here?" You ask, and your voice is small, unsure, and it makes Changbin's anger flare back to life in the pit of his stomach, like someone had told you at one point that you weren't allowed to ask questions and now you're scared to voice them.
The thought makes him see fucking red.
He tugs the helmet off and you swallow, but you don't run from him as he slides past you to put the helmet on the bike, the place where your arms brush sending sparks of electricity down his skin.
He glances to you, and taking a step back to put space between the two of you again, he crosses his arms over his chest, holding your gaze seriously.
The way you curl into yourself, like you're trying to make yourself smaller under his gaze, less of a target, just solidifies something in his very being that this is where you need to be.
Fates be damned, he's not gonna let whoever hurt you lay so much as a finger on you ever again.
His voice is rough with barely restrained anger-not with you, no, never with you, but you flinch anyway-when he speaks again.
"I'm going to teach you how to fight."
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
"You know, technically we don't even need to go to these things."
You glance up from where you stand in front of your vanity, finishing up a few touches on your hair and lipstick, at Changbin's voice as he emerges from the huge walk in closet, adjusting the cufflinks on his suit.
You bite back a grin, returning to looping your necklace around your throat and clasping it at the nape of your neck as you answer back thoughtfully, "Yes, but where's the fun in that?"
You hear him huff in response, swearing slightly, probably battling with his cufflinks still, and then the sound of his heavy footfalls behind you.
You glance up as he moves to stand at your back, towering over you, his broadness dwarfing you, as he puts his hands on your hips, and leans over to press a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, running his nose along your skin for a moment.
"You find these things fun?" He remarks back like he doesn't quite believe you, meeting your gaze in the reflection of the mirror, his fingers digging into the silken fabric of the gown you wear. "I think they're a huge waste of time and an excuse for Zeus to be vain and show off in front of his brothers. He just likes to remind them he holds the crown and they don't. It's a giant fucking pissing contest."
You laugh at that, setting down the lipstick you had just finished applying, and reach up, cupping his jaw with your fingers as you arch a brow at him in the mirror with the hint of a smirk.
"Yes, but also, it's an excuse for me to show you off, pet, and I like the jealous glares I get. It feeds my ego."
He rolls his eyes, but you can tell he's biting back a grin of his own as he leans down and presses his lips to your pulse point once more.
"Yeah, yeah. Got it. I'm arm candy."
You turn and lean up on tiptoes to connect your lips with his for the briefest moment, careful of your lipstick, running your fingers along the strong line of his jaw before you pull back.
"That may be part of the truth, my love-" You tell him softly, lips curving slightly, as you reach up and brush away some rogue lipstick left behind at the corner of his mouth, your eyes flicking up to his. "-we do make an incredibly striking couple, but for a million other reasons, far more important, just know, there is no one I would rather have at my side than you."
********************
Changbin downs the small glass of ambrosia in his hand in one go, and once again, for the thousandth time that night, finds himself cursing these stupid fucking parties.
There's not enough booze, he hates wearing a fucking suit, and everyone is far too uptight, not to mention-
He finds his gaze drawn to you once more, across the space of the open garden, the twinkling fairy lights magicked to dance above the partygoers heads lighting up the shine of your hair as you tip your head back and laugh at something Artemis must have said.
The open back of the dress you wear reveals flawless skin criss-crossed with tinkling delicate silver chains, all the way down to your hips, leaving little to the imagination, and the front is just as plunging, a deep V between the perfect hills of your breasts.
Changbin groans inwardly, as he reaches for another glass of ambrosia off a passing satyr's tray and downs it unceremoniously.
Fuck, he'd really just like to have you all to himself right now, completely at his mercy.
Instead, he's here, and you're there, faking conversation and smiles for the sake of the fucking party.
If you can even call it a party, it's more of a massive fucking cock block at this point.
He scoffs silently and adjusts himself subtly in the pants of his suit.
Luckily, before he can get too fucking hard watching you, his attention is drawn elsewhere.
"Brother." Kratos steps up beside him, champagne flute held between delicate long fingers, his pale, almost white hair slicked back from his forehead, his translucent blue eyes scanning to Changbin in a sort of disdain look before he glances back over the party.
Changbin's never liked the guy, and they're only half brothers at best, but he forces his greeting out somewhat semi cordially anyway with a nod and a grunted, "Kratos" in return.
The god of strength takes a long sip of his drink, and then his eyes skate back over to Changbin in a way that makes his skin crawl.
"You know I don't need to tell you that you shouldn't have let my dear sister in law out of the house looking like that, especially not with her-" His lips pull into a sneer slightly, and Changbin feels himself instantly bristling in response. "-powers and proclivities."
Changbin's gaze follows Kratos' back to you, tilting your head toward Athena as you listen to something she's saying low in your ear, and his eyes are drawn to the bare line of your shoulder, the shadows darkening the notches between your spine, the curling lines of the tattoo that just peaks out from the plunging back of your dress.
His knuckles go white around the glass he's holding, his jaw popping as he grits his teeth.
"Not that it's any of your fucking business-" He finally manages to get out, faking a meter of calm as he glances away from you and back to the man at his side, who is watching him now with a knowing smirk and a cocked brow. Changbin has to force himself not to smash the glass in between his too tight fingers. "-but my wife can wear whatever the fuck she damn well pleases."
Kratos scoffs at that, annoyance flashing across his too pretty features as he rolls his eyes. "Oh please. And I suppose now is the part where you tell me, rather clichély at that, that that's because 'you know how to fight'?"
"No." Changbin shakes his head, and he gives the other man a sudden sharp toothed, dangerous, predatory smile, one that has Kratos obviously swallowing, Adam's apple bobbing nervously as he takes a wavering step back.
"Because she does."
🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹
It's the third time you've trained with Changbin.
And you're not making any progress.
Your hits are still clumsy and way too soft, not precise at all, and your defensive maneuvers are even worse.
You can tell he's pulling his punches to keep from actually hurting you, but no matter how hard you try, you can't seem to avoid his hits, ending each session with bruises and scrapes, and an entirely too familiar sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach-failure.
You're a failure, and he's getting frustrated with you, just like everyone always does when you can't live up to their expectations.
So you're not surprised when he snaps today, blowing out a harsh breath, tugging off his gloves and tossing them on the floor of the ring at his feet, his chest heaving-whether from exertion or anger, you're not sure, but you'd guess the latter-especially judging from the darkening of his gaze as it narrows in on you.
"You have fists, do you not?" He asks in open irritation, eyes flashing, and your mouth falls open slightly, not really sure what he's expecting your response to be.
"Yes?" You reply back in a hesitant tone, and he takes a step toward you, and you instinctively shrink back from him.
His voice drops into a dangerous growl as he advances toward you. "Then fucking use them."
It's an instinct, you know that, to curl in on yourself, make yourself a smaller target, maybe avoid a bit of the fury, the punishment, coming your way.
Your arms curl around your ribcage and you won't meet his angry gaze.
Felix-the sun god-who you've met several times now, who always seems to be in the gym, working out at the same time as the two of you, who seems to be one of the God of Wrath's few friends, gets to his feet outside the ring, watching the interaction warily.
"Changbin." He warns in a low tone.
Changbin pays him no heed, attention focused purely on you.
"You're not even trying-" He chastises you, voice quivering slightly with held back fury, as he takes another step toward you, narrowing the gap. You feel as if you can't breathe. "-and I fucking hate that." His glare darkens, and his hands, wrapped around the knuckles, form angry, shaking fists at his side. His voice raises. "Hit me. Hurt me. Just fucking try something, for gods sakes!"
You swallow hard, mouth suddenly dry as he closes the last distance between you, your back hitting the ropes, and you duck your head, closing your eyes and digging your nails into the palms of your hands, hidden beneath the thick boxing gloves, readying yourself for the sting of a slap you already know is coming, you've already prepared for.
Suddenly, Felix is between the two of you, his tall body blocking your own, his hands going to shove at Changbin's chest, pushing him back a step.
"Changbin, mate-" He admonishes again, this time in a dangerously serious, louder tone. "-lower your fucking voice, okay? Can't you see she's terrified?"
Changbin stares at him for a long moment, his hands still balled into fists, and then he blinks, and blinks again, before his gaze moves past his friend to where you cower back against the ropes, arms wrapped around yourself as if to hold it together.
Suddenly, he takes a step back, and then another.
"Fuck." He swears, reaching up to rake an agitated hand through his thick dark hair, before he turns and ducks beneath the ropes of the ring.
"Fuck." He says again, louder this time, as he shoves over one of the punching bags, sending it clattering to the floor, on his way to the door. "Fuck!"
Felix turns to you, your eyes wide, your chest still heaving in panicked breaths.
He gives you the hint of a regretful smile, his large golden eyes soft beneath the fringe of his almost blindingly blonde hair.
Like the sun, you think vaguely.
"He's not angry with you, you know." He murmurs gently, as the door slams behind the disappearing god of wrath, making you both wince.
You swallow hard, and give a slight nod, slowly unwrapping your arms from around your ribs. "I know."
Do you?
You don't know how, but beneath the instinctual panic, for the first time in your life, you somehow do.
*********
"Sloppy." Changbin tells you in a bored sort of voice, as he once again, easily, blocks your jab with an almost nonchalant parry, and you grit your teeth as you have to take a step back to regain your balance, reaching up to swipe at the sweat gathering on your forehead with a forearm.
"You don't have to be such a dick, you know." You manage to get out between catching your breath, getting back into position even as he crooks his hand at you and readies up himself.
"I'm not being a dick-" He scoffs with a roll of his eyes, as you head for him again and once more, he dodges you easily, and you make a sound of frustration. "-I'm being hard on you because if you fight like this when it really matters, your opponent isn't going to be as forgiving as I am."
You heave in a breath, and then another, aware that across the ring, he seems to have hardly broken a sweat.
It's fucking infuriating, and you can feel the anger making your blood hot the longer this goes on.
"Oh, yeah? Well, if you're not being a dick, then don't fucking act like one." You counter back boldly, and Changbin arches a brow, studying you curiously for a moment.
It's the first time you've ever talked back to him-or anyone-for that matter.
And it feels good.
You take another go at him, and this time, when your glove doesn't make contact, and Changbin utters another, 'half-assed', you let the anger rising in your gut fuel you, and immediately round on him for another hit, not giving him time to reset in between.
He still manages to parry, of course, but you can tell you catch him off guard by the way a slight smirk graces his lips.
"You're fucking infuriating, you know that?" You seethe, even as you send a flurry of quicker blows in his direction, trying to catch him on the wrong foot and land something, anything.
"Yeah, and you're still fucking weak, princess, so how about we don't waste precious breath on things we both already know?" He counters right back, and hot anger flushes your already exertion reddened cheeks.
"Is this what you fucking want?" You spit back, as you manage to make him take a step toward the ropes, and you see slight surprise in his eyes at the power behind the next blow he knocks away. "To make me fucking mad?"
"I want-" He grunts out, narrowly dodging another swing from your glove, and you feel weirdly smug at the way he's breathing harder now. "-you to hold your fucking own. Whatever you need to do that is just a means to an end."
You swing at him with a cry, and you're shocked when your glove connects solidly with his ribs.
You freeze, and both of you stand there for a moment, breathing hard, staring down the miniscule distance between each other.
"There she is." Changbin murmurs in between breaths, and you hate how warm the begrudging respect in his dark eyes makes your already flushed skin. "That's what I've been looking for. Anger."
"You're a fucking asshole, trying to get a rise out of me like that." You pant back, eyes flashing dangerously, as you drop your glove from his ribs and he straightens. "You're just trying to piss me off."
His lips curve into a smirk. "I'm not trying to do anything." He counters back. "You had it in you all along. I was just trying to get you to see that you don't need fucking anyone, except you. You did that, nobody else."
His words reverberate around your skull and sink into your bones.
"Still an asshole move." You mutter back begrudgingly, and he grins.
"Yeah, well, I never claimed not to be an asshole, princess. It's part of my charm."
Suddenly, without thinking, you rear back and hit him square in the face.
He stumbles back, and immediately, your entire body goes numb as carefully, slowly, he reaches up and swipes at the blood now trickling from his nose, staring at it on his fingers, before he glances back to you.
His eyes darken, and you shrink, immediately caving in as you know punishment is coming. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
He stares at you, eyes darkening even further, and you bite down so hard on your tongue you taste the familiar tang of copper.
"Atta-fucking-girl." He growls, taking a step toward you, closing the distance, and your jaw drops, your mind going blank.
His large hand goes to the back of your head instantly, fingers tangling into your hair, and he tugs you to him, crashing his mouth into yours.
You can taste the blood on his tongue-whether it be your own or his you're not sure-but immediately, he's delving into you wildly, passionately, and you find yourself responding in kind, your body taking what it needs from him almost with the same frenzy.
He takes you with him as he ducks beneath the ropes, his mouth never leaving yours, guiding you blindly down from the ring, and neither of you stops to surface for breath until the backs of your knees are hitting a chair, and Changbin's pulling away so he can focus on tugging down the leggings you wear.
"Changbin-" You breathe, and he gives a slight shake of his head, pulling off your pants and dropping them to the floor before he takes a few steps back, shutting the door that leads from the private gym.
You stare at him, wide eyed, suddenly conscious to the fact that you're bare from the waist down, sitting in front of him.
And gods, you really need his mouth back on yours.
"Changbin-" It comes off as more of a whine this time, and you find yourself reaching out, fingers searching for his beltloops to tug him back to you.
Instantly, he pushes away your hands, his back hitting the door with a thud as he shakes his head again.
"Uh, uh, princess." He pins you down with eyes the color of flaming coal. "I'm not gonna lay a fucking finger on you until you've made yourself come."
Your mouth drops open at that, and heat floods your cheeks.
Changbin grins in a predatory fashion, his eyes skimming over you, tracing down to the way your thighs rub together subtly for friction, your knuckles white from gripping the edges of the chair.
"I want you to see you've got all the fucking power here. You're capable of making yourself feel incredible fucking pleasure, and you don't need anyone else to do it."
You stare at him, letting his words sink in, and then, before you can talk yourself out of it, or doubt, you slowly let your hand slide down between the juncture of your thighs, touching the wetness there.
You start upward as your fingers find your clit, your mouth dropping open on a stuttered gasp, and Changbin groans in response, letting his head fall back against the door, his eyes never leaving you, tracking what you're doing through a hooded gaze.
"That's it, princess, fuck, just like that."
You let yourself slide a finger inside as you watch him reach down a hand and palm the obvious erection growing through his pants.
It's invigorating, thrilling even, to know you're holding your own pleasure in your hand, and causing such an intense reaction in him just by watching simultaneously.
It's heady, and you can feel your pleasure pooling in your core in tight coils as you continue to massage and please yourself with your fingers, keeping your eyes on his.
When you gasp and send yourself over the edge, milking yourself through orgasm with slick fingers, whimpers leaving your lips, vision going hazy with stars for a few long moments, a throaty groan leaves Changbin's lips, as if torn from deep inside.
It makes you plummet even harder and faster than before, and you find yourself panting through one of the most intense orgasms you've ever had.
When you can see again, and the stars have faded, you pull your slick fingers out, and glance to Changbin, and your breath hitches at the sight of him sinking down to his hands and knees, crawling toward you, eyes dark and predatory.
"Don't-" You start to protest, but he reaches you and putting a palm on your knees, knocks your thighs apart, spreading you wide open to him.
"Let me see." He commands in a rasping purr, and you watch as he leans forward and kisses his way up your inner thigh slowly, sending a shudder up your spine.
He glances up at you. "I intend to spend every day on my knees for you, princess, worshipping every inch of you the way you deserve."
"Gods-" He continues, trailing his lips up your inner thigh, licking at the slick that still coats your skin. His fingers dig into your skin. "-you're so fucking p-"
You feel yourself hollow out. Time seems to stop.
Here it comes.
What every fucking person you've ever been with, given exactly what they wanted, ends up saying at the end, after you have nothing left.
'So fucking-'
-pretty.'
-perfect.'
It's always the same superficial compliments, observations, and it leaves you feeling more empty than before.
"-powerful." He finishes, stroking a finger down your inner thigh, moving his gaze across you slowly, respectfully, as if in awe.
You stare at him, mind taking a moment to comprehend, jaw slightly slack.
'You're so fucking powerful.'
Not pretty, not perfect, powerful.
His words send pools of warmth down into your lower stomach and core and you thread your fingers through the thick locks of his dark hair as he holds your gaze.
You swallow, and when you speak, your voice comes out on a soft shaky breath.
"So make good on your earlier promise then, and worship me."
He grins, ducking his head to suck a long open mouthed kiss just above your heat that has you shivering.
"Gladly."
🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️🛡️
You walk past the loud, drunken mortals, arm slipped through Changbin's, and just catch the tale end of one of their comments as they pass.
"-dressed like that, she's practically begging to be choking on my cock-
Immediately, you stiffen, and Changbin releases you, turning slowly to face the stumbling men, his eyes gleaming predatorily.
"What the fuck did you just say about her?" He growls out.
The man who had spoken foolishly turns to squint at Changbin, his gaze unfocused, his expression souring.
They don't recognize you in your mortal glamours, because if they did, the man would surely be backtracking heavily by now.
Instead, he simply sneers and repeats, "Said your broad over there is practically asking to be choking on my c-"
Before he can get the sentence out again, Changbin is at his throat, hand around his neck, lifting him up into the air as his back hits the wall of the nearby bar, his breath leaving his lungs in an audible whoosh.
"I know what you fucking said, scum, I wasn't asking you so you could repeat it, I was asking you to give you a chance to change it." Changbin growls out dangerously, eyes flashing and face a mask of fury that has the man blanching.
The man claws wildly at Changbin's fingers wrapped around his throat, his eyes bulging, his face turning red. He wildly flicks his gaze to you. "C'mon, lady, put your fucking dog on a leash-"
You step up beside them then, own eyes darkening in a warning.
"Changbin." You say in an eerily calm, cool voice. "Put him down."
Changbin does as you ask, releasing the man, who drops to the ground at his feet like a drunken sack of potatoes, a stream of unintelligible curses spewing from his mouth.
Stepping forward, you don't give the man a chance to catch his breath before you're hooking his jaw with your palm, and sliding three of your fingers into his mouth.
He gags, struggling against your hold, as you pin down his tongue, shoving your fingers just far enough into the back of his throat that you can feel the fleshy bit there, stuttering his breath, saliva pooling and dribbling down his lips as he tries to expel your fingers from his mouth.
You crouch down then, going eye to eye with him, expression and voice level.
"And here you were before, thinking I would be the one gagging." You observe casually, watching the way he struggles.
"Now, I don't give a fuck what you say about me-" You muse almost boredly, cocking your head slightly as you shove your fingers farther down his throat and he gags around them. "-though I'd be careful, because he's liable to take your head off." I motion over my shoulder with a tilt of my head to the watching Changbin looming behind me.
Another push, another retch around the intrusion of your fingers finding their way down his throat.
You lean your head toward his, lowering your voice. "However, if you ever fucking talk about him like that again, I will rip out your tongue, and then your balls, are we clear?"
The man nods frantically, eyes watering and face red, lips stretched around your fingers.
You pull them from his mouth and stand, and he goes over on all fours, retching and coughing and spewing spittle onto the ground as he tries to regain his breath.
You wipe your fingers on the skirt of your dress, eying him with nothing short of disdain as you stare down at him on the ground at your feet.
"You look good on your hands and knees at my feet like that. Maybe you should consider the whole dog title you were throwing around so carelessly earlier." You muse, before you turn from him and tilt your head toward Changbin and the direction you were headed earlier.
Changbin buries the toe of his boot into the man's abdomen, sending him keeling over in another gasping fit, before he turns and follows you, offering you his arm once more.
Leaning his head against yours, he grins down at you. "Gods, princess. You're so fucking powerful."
You tilt your head and smile up at him, and he leans down to press his lips to yours in a searing kiss.
It's become the way he compliments you over all these years-all 'I love you' and 'I admire you' and 'I'm so lucky to have you' rolled up into one-and it means more to you than anything anyone's ever called you in all your eons of being the goddess of love.
Not pretty. Not perfect. Not precious.
Powerful.
And it's thanks to him, because he reminded you what it was like to be loved and cherished and respected, but he's right, it's always been there, all thanks to you.
So... I listened to look at me by why don't we...and I kinda went down a rabbit hole n listening to their songs over and over for like a good 2-3 hrs....but we don't talk and that part.
I obviously love the song😭 I really don't know where you find these tracks but I'll go with it because their good and I like giving song recs too and I finally have someone to do it with!!
It made me think of that one part in the fic where Changbin was on about how his fire brings out her fire because the lyrics of look at me just give me "I bring out the real you that no one else sees" kinda vibes?? Tbh I love that so much but I rarely ever see anyone do it as good as you did so thank you sm😓
Anyways I love the song!! It has definitely been added to the CrimeBoss!Changbin playlist and I will be listening to it probably more often than I should😞
(Sorry this was kinda long, Christmas is over so I have way too much time on my hands and no body to talk to🚶)
My next suggestion for the playlist is when you love some one by tone stith
Pls give feedback🙏
~song recs anon
SONG RECS ANON COME BACK AND GIVE ME MORE PLS BBY <3
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
annaxmalina
dededos
areudirty
