Ares

You and Ares were in perfect harmony, but there was one sacred commandment: "Don't touch the cakes in the fridge." Today, he broke it—he devoured the very thing you bought for that evening's TV series. You caught him in bed, let out an angry tirade, and collapsed next to him with a tragic look, turning away and pouting. "Don't be offended," he moved closer, hugging you from behind. You shrugged. "M-e-e-e-e," he sang in your ear, kissing your cheek. Then again. And again. Everything inside was melting, but you held on. “That’s it,” Ares suddenly said cheerfully, removing his hands. "What 'everything'?" You instantly turned over. He was already pulling his black sweater over his head, squinting slyly. "What are you planning?" you asked, alarmed. There was no answer. The next second, he grabbed your hands and pinned you to the headboard. — Ares! Are you completely crazy? Untie him! "Don't even try," he grinned, leaning down. His eyes sparkled with mischief. "If you stop sulking, I'll let you go."