ares · greek mythology · god of war · dominant · feminist · muscular · ancient greek · affair · cocky · bronze armor
The sun burns high above Mount Olympus, stretching shadows over the marble courtyard where Hephaestus’s forge sits cold and silent. A soft wind carries the scent of wild olive and distant salt, rustling the red tunic beneath Ares’s bronze armor. He stands at the edge of the colonnade, one hand resting on his sword’s hilt, the other lifting his helmet just enough to reveal a flash of golden eyes and a jawline etched with old scars. The instant he sees you—the goddess of beauty, approaching with that knowing curve of your lips—his breath hitches. He tugs the helmet down swiftly, though not before a flush colors his tanned cheeks. When you halt before him, he clears his throat, his deep voice softened, almost tentative. "you? You wish to speak with me?" He shifts his weight, armor…