#The Flight of the Aphrodite

[gollancz]

Ohohohoh we do love a SPACE BOOK

There is a very specific type of science fiction book cover that never fails to make me go apeshitwild and it's as simple as this: A spaceship and/or a celestial body, set in high contrast against the dark backdrop of space, with the author's name in a large sometimes glowing font. Here are some fine examples:

[doomsdayoption]

And what if Apollo fell in love with Icarus?

Oh to see an animated movie about Icarus where we see his whole life and how he's always watching birds and asking his dad why he cannot fly.

To see Dedalus surprising Icarus on his like eight birthday with a tiny pair of wings he can latch on and watch him run in the streets, screaming that he can fly. To see Icarus grow up and eventually deciding to build a pair of wings, an actual one, for him and one for his dad because he wants to fly, because the birds can, so that means he can, too, if he makes the right calculations.

To see him succeed, to see him fly high into the sky with his dad following along, warning him not to get too close to the Sun. But Icarus doesn't heed him. He likes the sun, and he wants to get as close as possible.

To see Apollo's perspective, that of a God who didn't think he could get so interested in the life of a single human, but here he is, tears in his eyes and heart(?) banging in his chest as he watches Icarus come closer, closer, and for a moment he wants to reach out. To touch this man who has wanted to reach his domain for his whole life.

To see Icarus reach the sun, spying for a millisecond a figure so beautiful and so powerful he's almost afraid, before the wax melts and he begins to fall. To hear Apollo's voice scream in horror, desperately trying to reach this unknown mortal he has so desperately fallen for.

To see Icarus wake up alone, unscathed, lying on a beach close to his town. Dedalus is crying beside him, in agony at first and then, when he notices his son is alive, tears of joy. And Icarus remembers the man he saw in the sun, he remembers that scream he heard, he still feels the small, fleeting moment their fingers touched. Looking down at them, he finds them to be smeared in gold.

To see a few years go by, and Icarus always stares up at the sun, asking the Gods to forget the man he saw up there, because he cannot live knowing the one he's fallen for is unreachable.

To see Apollo in the Olympus, pacing back and forth, unable to stop thinking about Icarus. To see him, one day, decide to do something he hasn't done yet, and very few of his peers succeded in.

To see Icarus wake up one day, feeling something soft against the skin of his back. To see him realize, to his amazement, that there's wings there. Wide, warm-toned, beautiful, actual wings.

To see him glance up at the sun and finally, joyfully, knowing he will be able to reach Apollo.

[marieandersoneq]

Greek myth

[megatraven]

everybody look at my hydra dragon that i finally finished geneing up on flight rising :)

i gave him the remora gene so the little fishies could be like his aura :)

and this is my mc dragon:

The accent she's wearing is called Hera's Pride and i thought it was perfect :)) I named her Astoria because teehee

speaking of Hera:

And thennn I also have Aphrodite!!

I've been working for over a year to get the perfect Alex dragon (a silver/silver/gold imperial that i'll use a silhouette scroll on) but haven't had any luck yet rip

[nums-bird]

Homer's babygirl book should be known more to the world through epic:the musical so yeah,this is my negotiation tactic for Jorge to make the debut a lil earlier cuz I have been listening to the god games and wouldn't you like and I am dying to here this songs fully released

Remember when I was obsessed with "just a man"(still am btw) yeah that will be nothing compared to the god games I swear

[smokey07]

Random thoughts

The three princesses of Sparta reflect and at the same time contradicting the three goddesses in the judgement of Paris.

Clytemnestra is the most powerful queen of Achaea, as wife of Agamemnon, similar to how Hera as the queen of the gods is the wife of Zeus. She however, is the Hera who cheated and succeeded in revenging her husband. (Their reasons are different ofc)

Helen is the most beautiful woman of Achaea (like Aphrodite the most beautiful goddess), but whose beauty doomed her to be the face who launched a thousand ships. Yet she was able to actually remarried, while Aphrodite only keeps Ares as lover.

Penelope is cunning and wise like Athena. She was blessed with the talent to weave. But unlike Athena who physically participates in fight, Penelope flights in more passive ways for obvious reasons. And she got married.

[star-girl69]

i think aphrodite kid reader x clarisse is simply just better??? like the trope is just superior??? like, we have clarisse who is tough, and mean and one of the strongest people at camp, then we have reader who is kind and compassionate and really doesn’t care all that much about fighting. so naturally, clarisse is super protective and treats reader like a princess?? how could people dislike it 😔😔

no exactly and i actually must write about this - basically this is just all about the little things clarisse does for her perfect princess angel daughter of aphrodite gf (me!!!!!!)

okay as payment for my absence please accept some shitty headcanons I LOVE YOU ALL BYEEEE

she’s just always DOING THINGS FOR YOU

she’s so perceptive and she always knows exactly what you want and need even if you don’t know it yourself

like if you like wearing high heels one) clarisse genuinely wonders what is wrong w you

she sees no practicality in them bc there isn’t lol

but also she’s like omg???? MY GF feels safe enough around me to wear shoes she can’t run in???? WHAT JOY!!!!!!!!!

and you’ll come back to your cabin being all ugh omg my feet hurt so bad laying on the bed and putting your feet UP

and clarisse is like “well i could have told you that”

excuse me????

“don’t get me wrong baby you look gorgeous and i love you wearing heels but it’s your funeral”

“DIE”

she just laughs and takes your shoes off

she’ll continue to bully you as she’s literally massaging your feet like ok girl yeah we see you

clarisse is also a MENACE about making sure you eat

“did you eat today?”

“babe you SAW me at lunch”

“just making sure….”

you’re just so kind and amazing and clarisse loves you so much but you are not the best at fighting!

she is constantly stressed when you’re not by her side

bc no one loves you like her who will protect you 💔💔💔💔

when someone takes advantage of you she gets so PISSED OFF

bc it’s not like someone is beating you up it’ll be like someone is using you as their personal therapist or smth and you’re just like “pls go speak to an actual professional wtf 😭😭😭”

and she’s so pissed off bc WHY IS THIS BITCH PSYCHOLOGICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY TORTURING HER GIRL??????

she’s not afraid to beat people up for you and actually enjoys it!

anyways, clarisse is also a koala bear

and an emotionally stunted caveman

she’s not good with her words so these actions are all she has to show you that she loves you

idk if y’all have noticed but clar rarely saying ily to y/n bc it’s my personal headcanon that she has such a hard time saying those words. she shows you she loves you but for some reason it’s just so hard to get the words out. (…BC SHE IS AN EMOTIONALLY STUNTED CAVEMAN)

so she quickly adapts to do all these little things

if you’re walking down a flight of stairs trust she is holding your hand

QUEEN of opening jars for you

if you’re not feeling well or you’re tired or just feeling lazy she’ll bully someone into doing your chores for you

also this bitch is NOT afraid to stand up for you and make sure you get what you deserve.

like that one meme

“UM… she said NO PICKLES… you fucking dumbasses…”

“CLARISSE 😭😭😭”

also like in “better than revenge” she loves to watch you do your makeup

finds it so fascinating that you can only get PRETTIER

like she’s okay at makeup but you can do that shit perfectly like standing on your head

you make it seem so effortless

she’s not a HUGE makeup girly but sometimes she’ll let you just go crazy

so you can sit on top of her….. that one sapphic meme yes…..

also she’s constantly bragging about you

“yeah… i have the prettiest gf in camp… y’all are just losers what can i say”

ofc if anyone were to agree w her she would go insane

“yeah y/n is so pretty”

“um ok yeah you don’t have to say it i say it enough….”

even if one of your siblings gives you a compliment she’s like HOLD THE FUCK ON- then she remembers THATS YOUR SIBLING ITS OK and she’s like oh this is so embarrassing.

will she stop? no ofc not

she’s constantly telling you how pretty you are. beautiful. gorgeous. exquisite. all the words

loves kissing you all over

KISSES YOUR HAND 🤭🤭

anyways going back to the clarisse koala bear agenda that got away from me

she’s just always touching you

hand on the small of your hand guiding you somewhere

hand around your waist

SITTING IN HER LAP AT CAMPFIRES

no matter what type of hair you have she’s obsessed w it. if you have pin straight hair she’s so obsessed w the fact that you don’t need a huge curl routine like her, finds it fascinating

if you do have curls she loves doing a curl routine together

whatever whatever type of hair you have she’s obsessed with it and will wash it for you if you want

so soft and lovingly like a more of a scalp massage than a hair washing

will brush your hair for you, braid it for you, anything you like just OBSESSED

she loves when you like sit on top of a picnic table and then she gets to sit in between your legs on the bench thinks it’s so so fun and so so silly

she LOVESSSSS sleeping w you OBVI.

on top of you, you on top of her, she’s a koala bear. like entirely wrapped around you

partially bc she is as aforementioned a koala bear and partly bc she is overprotective even in her sleep

if you move in the middle of the night even just a little bit

she’s a super light sleeper i feel like

always on the guard fr ✊

a little bit better when you’re there tho

so if you move in the middle of the night she’ll just like caress your hair and kiss your cheek and try to shush you back to sleep

like bitch you’re still asleep have you never heard of ADJUSTING? MOVING? SHIFTING?

hope you’re not one of those people who has to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night bc with clarisse that will stop

you can’t abandon her even for 2 minutes even for basic bodily functions like you just can’t it’s so inconsiderate to her… 💔

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

The honey to my moon 🌬

Husband!Leon S. Kennedy x wife!reader

《A/N》: I'm back babyyyyyyy. Sort of. I don't know, we'll see. This is inspired by 'Alrighty Aphrodite' by Peach Pit so take a listen if you feel like it!! FYI this can be read for ANY Leon (like most of my Leon fics) I just use RE4R Leon in the banner bc of favoritism <3

~Fi 🐝

(Pssst, my requests are open!)

《Content》: NSFW content. proceed with caution. PiV, cockwarming, creampie (don't do that) consensual groping. Very, very sweet, of course! Lotsa domestic moments with Leon, basically a collection of cute moments I think would happen on your Honeymoon <3

Reader is implied to be chubby/ has stretch marks and tummy fat bc who doesn't???? (I still love you if you don't)

《Word count》: 3.4k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

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The, not quite shrill, yet still very annoying sound of your alarm ripped you out of your pleasant dreams. With a soft groan you stirred in the arms of your husband, which you were comfortably pressed against.

After a quick rub of your eyes, a smile formed on your lips as you remembered what day it was.

You turned to face Leon, admiring his peaceful expression for just a moment before you couldn't resist the twitching urge in your fingertips anymore and you gently ran them down the bridge of his nose and over his cheek.

His brows furrowed slightly, and his nose scrunched up at the tickling sensation on his skin.

"Happy one week of being married, baby." You whispered softly, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.

A dopey grin tugged at his lips, and he pulled you even closer to him with a soft hum. His lips found yours in a clumsy attempt at a good morning kiss.

"My beautiful, beautiful wife..." he mumbled against your lips, making you giggle and melt into his embrace at the same time.

"Can you believe it's been a week already?" You were cut off by yawn that decided to rudely interrupt your sentence.

"No... feels like I just fell in love with you yesterday." He let out a soft breath as his eyes fluttered shut, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, letting his touch linger as he slipped into a moment of comfort and love.

You sighed against his skin, feeling sleep still deep in your bones, but both knew you'd have to leave your shared cocoon of affection sooner than you wanted to.

"We have to get up... we'll miss our flight.." You slurred, fighting the heavy drooping of your eyelids from the warmth that Leon enveloped you in.

He grumbled softly under his breath, something about 'ungodly early flights', which made you crack a grin.

"Alright, up we go.." he groaned, heaving his body into an upright position, with you still securely in his arms, rubbing a hand over his face to get rid of the tiredness that remained in his muscles. With a peck to your nose, Leon stood from the bed, stretching his arms and neck with a yawn.

You crawled up onto your knees, your arms comfortably fitting around the curve of his neck and shoulders as you let your lips find his again in a tender kiss.

"Good morning, my handsome, handsome husband.." You purred, making Leon chuckle.

"Are you copying me, sweetheart?" He asked with a smirk as his hands migrated down to your waist.

"It's the highest form of flattery, don't you know?" You replied with a wicked grin, feeling his fingers dig just a little tighter into the flesh of your waist.

"Yeah, yeah.." he playfully rolled his eyes as you giggled, getting out of bed.

"Come on, we're on a time crunch." You let your hand slip from the embrace of his as you made your way to the bathroom.

He quietly followed you, landing a gentle slap on your ass. You yelped at the impact, jumping forward before turning around with angrily scrunched brows.

"Hey!" You pouted, rubbing the faint red mark on your skin.

"Just crunching time, babe." He shrugged with a cokcy smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes and huffed some words under your breath, making him snicker.

"Actually, let me help you in there." He declared, reaching you in a few strides and pushing you into the bathroom.

"What- I don't need help brushing my teeth!" You argued, trying to push back against him.

"Who said anything about brushing teeth, huh, honey?" He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up.

"Leon-"

"Whaddaya say we get this Honeymoon started early?" He said against the skin of your neck, trailing soft kisses along the column of your throat.

"No, no, no, we have a flight to catch!" You said sternly, clinging onto the doorframe.

"Oh, come on, baby.. you know how fast I can make you fall apart.." he breathed into your ear, slipping his hands underneath your shirt.

Leon tugged at your middle, firmly enough to make you struggle but leaving enough room if you wanted to back out. With the feeling of his hands on your skin and his breath ghosting deliciously over your neck, you relented, letting your grip on the doorframe loosen.

You gently slipped past the door with him and let out a soft sigh as his lips met your neck once again as the door of the bathroom fell shut.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

With packed bags, an excited attitude about going on your Honeymoon and a couple of new love bites just below the collar of your shirt, you were off to the airport.

You yawned as you watched the few city lights pass by, the streets empty. No surprise, really.

No person would willingly be up and about at this hours, except a few joggers (who were clearly insane) and the poor souls who'd just finished the night shift.

Leon's hand envolped yours tightly, keeping hold of it while the other one was loosely wrapped around the steering wheel, as you sped down the highway.

"Don't rip my head off, but.." he broke the silence, making you turn attention away from the lights flashing past the window, "you've got all the papers 'n documents and whatever we need, right?" Leon asked, slightly chewing on his lip.

You would never let him live it down if you forget your tickets and other papers just because of the desperate morning romp that had occurred because of his neediness. You would curse him to the sun if you'd had to cancel your Honeymoon purely because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

You chuckled and whipped out a clear folder with a plethora of printed e-mails, copies over copies of important information, and so on.

"Being overly prepared runs in the family." You chirped, waving around the, surprisingly thick, folder. Leon visibly relaxed, a dopey smile gracing his face.

"So that's why the printer ran out of ink." He mused, glancing your way. You shrugged with a mischievous glint in your eyes and Leon chuckled, pulling you into his side to press a kiss to your cheek before going back to driving down the seemingly endless roads to the airport.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"Airport coffee is truly something... special." Leon forced out, clearing his throat and disapprovingly eyeing the dark liquid in his paper cup.

"That's why you get the good stuff." You sipped your hot chocolate smugly, watching as Leon cracked a grin and pulled you into his side.

"Can I have a sip?" He asked sweetly, nosing your hair. You wordlessly handed him the cup as your head went to rest on his shoulder.

"I'll always share with you." A small smile sat on your lips as you quietly told him.

Leon raised a brow at you with the faintest hint of a smirk.

"I know for a fact, that's not true."

"Oh piss off." You grumbled, breaking into a smile.

"Tell that to the cookies you didn't share. Or the leftover Pizza. And the-"

"Okay, okay! Point is, I'm sharing now." You huffed, making Leon grin.

"Thank you, angel." He hummed, placing a kiss to your hairline.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You let yourself fall onto the bed with a thump, sighing in relief at the soft mattress beneath you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a nap." You said, a little mumbled. The bed shook as Leon dropped down next to you, immediately reaching for your hand.

"A nap sounds nice." He sighed, eyes falling shut. You laid in silence and soft breaths for a moment, already starting to doze off. "We could nap by the pool." He suggested, turning on his side to face you. You rolled over in a similar fashion.

"That's just your excuse to see me in a bathing suit and lather me in suncreen." You snorted, poking his chest. He cracked a smug grin.

"Would that be such a crime? A husband wanting to see his gorgeous wife in a bathing suit?" He defended with a smirk, cupping the back of your neck and gently stroking his thumb along your jaw.

"We could get lunch and maybe some drinks..." You thought out loud, weighing your options. You'd either get a good nap and be hungry when you wake up, or you could get a descent snooze plus some lunch, maybe a cocktail and a shirtless Leon.

"Alright, the pool it is." You declared, watching as Leon almost jumped off the bed with excitment.

You both packed a little bag with the essentials; sunscreen, sunglasses, a book, and whatever else you thought you'd need.

Leon was in the bathroom, making a suspicious amount of clattering noises, when he peaked his head out the door.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you wear the blue one? Please?" He asked bashfully, a pinkish tint on his cheeks.

Your expression softened, and your heart melted.

It amazed you how he could straight up ask you to fuck you before your flight, but asking you to wear his favorite bathing suit of yours was flustering him.

"Of course, honey."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"... Lee."

"Hm?"

"My ass does not need any more sunscreen."

"Just don't want you to get burned." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder while shamelessly massaging sunscreen into the fat of your rear.

"Leon Kennedy, get your hands off my behind before I beat yours!" You scolded, swatting his hands away.

He grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender.

"You can feel me up all you want in private, baby, but not in public."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just doing my husbandly duties and making sure you weren't gonna like a tomato."

"... you're lucky I love you." You narrowed your eyes at him, huffing when he blew you a kiss.

"I love you, angel." He said softly, retreating to his own sun chair.

"I love you too, you cute idiot."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your wine glasses clinged together as you sat on the cold stone of your balcony, huddle together with blankets and pillows.

It was a clear night, and a few stars decided to show themselves. It wasn't necessarily cold, but the breeze that passed by did make it a little chilly.

There was the crunching of snacks and the chatter and laughter between bites as you watched the stars and the moon illuminate the vast property of the Hotel.

Other couples might've chosen to fancy up and go out for dinner but Leon and you had chosen to do what you did best; not fit in the box.

Instead of eating way too small portions for an outrageous price while pretending that you felt comfortable in such a posh setting and simultaneously being defeated by the ridiculous amounts of forks beside your plate, you had a cozy evening with the love of your life.

You did splurge on the bottle of wine, but it was your Honeymoon, after all.

The gentle gusts of wind coming up from the coast left goosebumps on your skin and a salty taste on your lips.

"Today was really nice.." You spoke quietly, enjoying the peace of the moment.

"Yeah, I think so, too. Can't wait to spend the next two weeks with you like this." Leon replied in a soft and loving tone that almost fell into a whisper. Your head rested on his shoulder, like it usually did, your hand reaching for his.

The cold metal of his ring sent a pleasant shiver up your spine as you entangled your fingers and curled closer into him.

Leon happily obliged your silent plea for closeness and wrapped you in his arms.

"I know that I won't be able to ever put into words how much I love you, so I want you to know that deeply cherish every moment with you." You looked up at him, and his features softened as he gently held your face.

"I know you do. I can... I can feel it. Is that weird? I just sort of feel the love radiating off of you all the time. I hope you feel that when you're with me as well."

You looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky himself, the same ones you were admiring, and everything in him just melted.

"I do feel it. Not only are you my husband, but you're my best friend too. Two-in- one." You smiled sweetly, scooching further up in his hold just to be that little bit closer.

"I'm so glad that I married you." He whispered, firmly pulling your lips against his in a passionate kiss.

You'd never get bored of the feeling when he kissed you, the love and tenderness pouring from it. But there was a slight ache in your heart that you'd never be able to kiss him enough to quench the raging flames inside your chest.

You pulled away for a breath, with puffy lips and shimmering eyes that showed Leon just how much you truly cared for him.

"That makes two."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The softness of the bedsheets on his fingertips made Leon brows furrow. He was expecting a different softness; you.

Laying majestically next to him, bathed in the morning sun that poured in, even through the curtains. He lifted his head off the pillow with a disgruntled sound, blinking away the sleep in his eyes to look for you.

There were trickles and splashes of water that gently broke through the comfortably silent atmosphere. There was a slight breeze coming from the open balcony door, making the curtains sway.

Leon made his way to the terrace and, good heavens, the sight before him was enough to make him lightheaded.

You were perched on the edge of the small stone pool that you were extremely excited about ever since you laid eyes on it, skin glistening from the water with your hair intricately stuck to your back.

That would've been enough to make all the blood from Leon's cheeks to rush down south, making his boxers feel tight, but that wasn't all. There were bubbles.

Soft, foamy suds that clung to your hips and the curve of your waist, truly making you look divine with the morning sun shining down on you. Your legs were swishing in the water, taking in the peaceful morning while everyone else was far off in their dreams.

Leon's mouth hung open slightly, and it took every ounce of power in him to stop himself from drooling, but he didn't waste any time sliding the door open further to get through.

The noise made you look back over your shoulder with a soft smile when you saw him striding towards you.

Strong and familiar arms wrapped themselves around you, trying to discreetly feel you up.

"Good morning, honey." You spoke gently, stroking over his forearms that were tightly situated around your middle.

"Absolutely great morning if you ask me." He chuckled lowly, though not failing to press a kiss to your lips with such affection it almost covered any seductive intent behind his words.

"Christ, baby, you look heavenly..." he breathed against your ear, sliding his hands towards your hips to knead at the plush flesh and feel the shimmering grooves of stretch marks beneath his fingertips.

"Thought I'd wake you up with a little surprise for being the best husband a girl could ask for." You replied sweetly, trying to play innocent as if his calloused hands on your wet skin didn't ignite an inferno deep in your gut.

He let out an amused chuckle, slyly moving one hand to the pudge of your belly and the other kneading one of your soft tits.

With a soft sigh, you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

"You look like Aphrodite emerging from the sea foam, do you know that?" He asked gently, making your head spin with the way he was so easily drowning your mind in both lust and affection.

You chuckled, turning on your knees to face him.

"Well, then... will you do me the honors and be my Ares?" You purred, trailing your hand down his chest all the way to his cock straining in his boxers, cupping the member and squeezing gently.

A groan ripped from his throat and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

"Whatever you wish, my love." He whispered, guiding you back into the natural stone pool, watching with a ravenous gaze.

His underwear was quickly discarded, and he joined you in the water, backing you up against one of the rounded walls.

One hand on your waist, the other carefully placed on the back of your neck to cushion the hard edge of the stone

. His lips found yours in a loving manner, quite the opposite to his lusting eyes that raked over your naked form, but as much as Leon wanted to devour you, he wanted love you.

He reveled in his love for you. All he needed was to be close to you, as close as reality would allow and if that entailed him buried to the hilt inside your delightful cunt he wasn't one to complain.

Your bodies were pressed together, your tits squished up against his chest, and his dick laying heavy between your thighs. Your lips and tongues danced together like they had done so many times before, eliciting the occasional soft groan or sigh from you and Leon.

The bubbles littered on the water surface stuck to his broad back as you ran your fingers down the length of his spine.

"Can I, sweetheart?" He asked breathlessly, staring at your blown out pupils and puffy lips.

"Mhm, yes, please... need to be closer.." You responded equally as breathless before fiercely capturing his addicting lips once again.

The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance and with a shuddering breath he pushed past your lips and slid snuggly inside of you.

"F-Fuck... my perfect girl... God, I love you so much.." he groaned as quietly as he could, feeling a shiver run through him at the warm embrace of your gummy walls.

He quickly muffled himself by gently biting down on your shoulder.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you held him tighter, suppressing any sounds you might've made. Leon slowly rocked his hips into yours.

They weren't full thrusts, but they didn't need to be. This wasn't about an earthshattering orgasm that would knock the wind from your lungs, it was about feeling close and loved and his lazy and sloppy movements into your pussy did just that, with an added bit of pleasure.

Leon continued to rock his hips, dragging his heavy cock against your insides just right.

His pelvis hit your clit perfectly with each sloppy thrust, his happy trail adding to the euphoric sensation.

You were seeing stars by now.

Both of you were still sleepy and sensitive from waking up recently so you were at the brink of your edge already.

"Le-Leon.." You managed to get out between quiet moans that you were trying your best at biting back.

The sloshing of the water and his heavy pants were the only things in your mind as you felt the tight coil in your belly snap.

"Love you, I love you..." he slurred as he, too, reached his end. He came inside of you, pulsing against your insides.

The squeal that you felt bubbling in your throat was quickly swallowed by a hungry kiss from Leon.

He supported himself against the stone, catching his breath before he maneuvered the two of you around so you were straddling him, still nice and full.

"I love you so much, Lee." You hummed, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't mind if everyday started like this." He smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple when you lazily slapped his arm.

"Mhm, wanna crawl inside your ribcage and live next to your heart.." you mumbled, tuckered out.

He chuckled and gently stroked your back.

"If anyone else said that to me I'd be concerned."

"You put a ring on it." You argued, pulling your hand from the water and holding it up to him.

"Hm, that I did." He hummed, gently taking your hand and kissing your ring.

"And I'd do it all over again."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you enjoyed <3

(Yes, I'm aware of the bad and weird things that happen between Aphro and Ares, [poor] Hepheastus, man.] Just let me have this okay)

More Leon works --> 💫

《Tag List》: @k-fallingstar @dmitriene @vampkennedy @agrerion

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[dreamingonclds]

My Girl | Hozier

Summary: Andrew ruins the surprise date that y/n had planned for him.

Pairing: Hozier x reader

Word Count: 2055

Warning(s): Very slight sexual activity, angst if you squint, fluff

Note: I did not edit this so, sorry if the grammar or writing is off. Also, this is my very first one shot. It ended in a different way than I expected and I don't know how to feel about it anymore. Enjoy!

As it was your last day with Andrew before leaving to go back home. You decided to surprise him with a romantic dinner once he got back from the studio. You slaved away all day in the kitchen making his favorite foods. As a testament of gratitude for everything he’s done for you this past month, spent with him in Wicklow. You decorated the dinner table and area all cute, with fairy lights, artificial vines, and scattered petals. You even put on a dress, his favorite, on you, and the lipstick he said made you look like you were touched by Aphrodite.

The time came when he was supposed to arrive and he didn’t. You didn’t want to even consider the possibility of ruining the surprise. So you didn’t call him right away, concluding that he was probably running a bit late like he sometimes does. A couple more hours went by and now the concern in your belly was getting hard to ignore. It was almost 12 am, he said he would be home by 8 pm. So you decided to shoot him a quick text.

Hey baby, everything okay?

He calls you back almost immediately.

“Hey darling, I’m sorry I got carried away and forgot to call you earlier. Me and the team decided to just order some food and eat here. I’ll be home in a bit, do you want me to pick you something up to take back?” He says rushing to get the words out, you hear the shuffling of feet getting away from the sound of banter and laughs.

You smile sadly at his sincerity.

“It’s okay, I get it. But umm…,” You interrupt your own speech as you look towards the beautifully set table and food you kept in the oven to keep warm. “I’m okay, I made dinner earlier, thanks for offering anyway. But you enjoy your dinner!” you continue.

“I am, you enjoy your dinner too-”

“I’ll try. Be safe, yeah?” You quickly respond cutting him off.

“Are you-”

You cut him off again, starting to feel a lump develop in your throat, and that shameful tickle in your chest.

“Hey I gotta go Andrew, don’t want the food to get cold.” you say and hang up before he can say anything else.

Your flight out of Ireland was at 6 am. You weren’t even packed, thinking that after dinner, Andrew could help you, because you knew he’d do most of it for you; as he did with other things. But also because you wanted to spend as much time with him before you left. But with your time of departure nearing, you decided to get a move on it.

By the time Andrew got home it was nearing 3 am. And you were nearly done packing, because you had stayed with him for a little over a month, your things were scattered throughout his house so it took a while. In the midst of you focused, trying to remember everything you had brought, you didn’t hear the front door open.

Andrew walks in quietly, believing that he would find you asleep. He quickly notices a light shining from inside the oven, he hurries over and opens it, thinking you accidentally left it on. But his eyebrows scrunch together when he sees it’s only the light on and his favorite meal in there, untouched.

He stands up straight from his crouching position and walks out to the dining area. He quickly notices the dining table, set with empty plates, wine glasses and the vase with flowers you guys picked together. The almost completely melted taper candles were an indication that you had been waiting for him for a while. 

Once the realization hits him, he mutters a single word.

“Fuck.” he brings his hand to his face, rubbing it over. He turns himself and begins to walk towards the bedroom. But, his guilty conscience makes him look back to the table. His imagination quickly fills of you, wondering just what you must have been feeling. He thinks to blow out the candles but turns his back to them, they’re on their last breath anyway; he thinks.

He carefully opens the bedroom door, still believing you are asleep. But he pauses when he sees you standing there, lost in thought. But beautiful, all dolled up in his favorite dress of yours.

Your eyes shoot to the opening door, and the first thing you notice is his sorry face. Before you can mutter a word, a letter even. He rushes over to you

“Darling, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I didn’t know. One of the guys mentioned getting pizza and everybody was on board with it so I agreed and,” he rambles on, both his hands rubbing your arms.

“Why are you leaving me…over that darling, it’s not worth it. I know I fucked up, I know that, I know. But I can fix it, I promise you I will fix it. It was so stupid of me, but it won’t ever happen again.” he continues, one of his hands had made its way to your face, gently cupping your jaw and caressing your cheek.

And then it hits you, he walked in and saw you packing. He must think that you are actually leaving him, he must’ve forgotten your flight back.

Before he can continue, you ease his worry.

“Baby, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m okay, I promise” you say as you look up to him and look into his eyes,you take his torso in your arms and rub him soothingly. His eyebrows furrow together, he’s still confused, he really doesn’t remember.

You take his hand and lead him over to the empty side of the bed free of your luggage. You push his chest lightly, encouraging him to sit down. And he does, pulling you down to sit in his lap. 

“Then…what are you doing?” He asks, one hand sitting on your bum and the other toying with the fabric of your dress.

“I’m leaving, remember, back home.” You say, one arm around his shoulders playing with the loose strands of hair coming out of his bun. 

“Ohh” he lets out a sigh and puts his head into your neck, peppering your collarbone with kisses, mumbling sorrys in between each of them.

“Baby. Baby. Baby” he says, each one spaced out.

“I am so sorry. That I truly forgot about. I am so so sorry. I can’t believe I just let that pass my mind. Oh my god what is wrong with me.” he rambles guiltily.

You remove your hands from his hair and try to coax them into his face, softly lifting him out of the crook of your neck. You give him a gentle smile and give him a soft kiss.

“It’s okay.” you say genuinely, nodding your head.

“No it’s not.” he responds matter of factly.

“You forgot baby, it happens-” you try to reassure him but he cuts you off with a kiss.

“Be honest love, how’d it make you feel?” he asks, lips brushing against yours. Your head naturally hangs down, the feeling of humiliation overtaking you once again. But the feeling of his large hand rubbing over your thigh offers comfort for you to tell him the truth, but not enough.

“Ugh” you groan in embarrassment, quickly hugging him so as to not meet his gaze, your cheeks warming with the feeling.

“Oh darling.” he returns the act and rubs your exposed back. “How do I make it up to you baby?” he asks you, and you can tell he means it.

“It’s okay, I mean it.” you state, pulling away and meeting his eyes. He gives you an understanding smile, and brings his hand to your face. Moving your hair from your face and lightly touching your lips, you give his thumb a soft peck.

“You are too good for me.” he admits. You don’t know what to say, so you don’t say anything. You shake your head in disagreement and give his jaw a peck. Your phone buzzes from the bed and he turns and reaches for it, handing it to you. 

“Shit.” you say, getting up and off of him, realizing the time.

“Babe, we have to hurry!” you hurry back to your luggage.

“We have to leave soon or I'll miss my flight.” you throw the last few things in your suitcase.

“Oh yeah” he says, coming over to you. “Let me do that.” he tells you when he sees you trying to close it.

“I’m gonna go get my clothes.” you say and run out to the laundry room, picking up the outfit you planned to wear for your long flight. Walking back into the bedroom, you see Andrew moving your luggage to the floor. You reach to try and unhook the back of your dress when he comes up and hugs you from behind. He then turns you to face him and shamelessly checks you out, his eyes fixed on your cleavage before he speaks.

“ I love this dress.” he says meeting your eyes.

“I know, I can tell.” you giggle.

He leans down, bringing his lips to yours, you tiptoe, trying to make up for the height difference. A passionate makeout ensues, his hands give your bum gentle squeezes. His mouth finds your neck and you release soft moans, almost giving in as he backs you into the bed.

“As much as I would like to babe, I can’t. I have to leave, like now or I’ll miss my flight.” you say breathlessly, your body almost betraying you as his lips make their way from your jaw to your chest. Your hands go to his hair instinctively as he continues to go lower and lower.

“Babe, seriously, we don’t have time” trying to catch your breath, you sit up, forcing him up as well. He gives you a cheeky smile, offering his hand to help you to your feet.

“It’s like you’re trying to keep me from leaving.” you run your hands through your hair in an effort to put yourself together.

“That's exactly what i'm trying to do” he stands with his hands on his hips, just endearingly looking at you, taking you in. You look up to him, and a laugh leaves your mouth when you see your lipstick transferred to his face.

“This would be so much worse if it wasn’t for your beard” you say in between small laughs, circling your mouth, in reference to his. He turns his head towards the mirror and laughs when he catches sight of the damage.

“Yours isn’t any better.” he turns back to you and wipes the tip of your nose that somehow managed to catch the rosy tint. You return the favor, wiping his lips with the best of your ability. Then you rest your hand on his cheek, he turns his head towards it and gives your palm a kiss. You give him a pouty smile, and your chest aches, realizing just how much you don’t want to leave him.

“My girl.” he says, mouth still in your hand. He holds your wrist there for a few more seconds before he gives it one last kiss and gently lets go.

“You’re making this really hard.” you admit. You turn your back to him and step away, not being able to look at him any longer. Your hands go back to small hooks of your dress, when you hear a sigh from behind you.

“At least let me take the dress off of you, one way or another.” he offers, referring to your prior denial of both your unholy desires. You chuckle and let him help, shivering whenever his fingertips meet your skin.

With no time left to spare due to the hour drive to the airport, you slipped on your comfy clothes and grabbed your belongings. The drive there was full of avoidance from the both of you, not wanting to talk about being away from each other. So instead, the conversation was full of the best memories you had in the emerald isle. And once you arrived at the airport, you sat in the car for as long as you could, not wanting a single second to go to waste where you couldn’t be together.

[macfrog]

little aphrodite sex on fire chapter nine

the amount i had to write jean-marc in this chapter makes me nauseous. anywho. these two heal my soul and make me weep. please enjoy a little look back at the ceo's experience of paris.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: we're going back to paris. this time, through joel's eyes.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, ostentatious flaunting of wealth (eat the rich i say), sugardaddy!joel, softdom!joel, oral (f and m receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, angst & pining, and...well. the ceo falls in love.

word count: 7.5k

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He wasn’t even sure you’d say yes when he asked. Thought you’d find it a bit much, flying halfway across the world just for one lousy meeting. He had what he’d say when you turned him down in mind, already: Sure, yeah, no problem. No, I just thought – Yeah. ‘s alright. I’ll bring you back som’ as a souvenir.

But you didn’t.

Oh, yeah? you’d said. Your face seemed to light – humored, impressed even. It made Joel feel braver. Reassured. You’ve a habit of doing that to him.

Mhm, he replied, chewing on the sub you’d ordered him after his conference call. He can’t remember what he promised Human Resources he’d have done within the hour. You walked in as he was saying it, and – well. Two days, he said, swallowing, Saturday Sunday.

And are you gonna make me take minutes while you meet with this Jean-Marc? You wiggled your fingers as you said it, letting the name drip through your lips in some kind of dreamy song. I don’t make the flight back unless they’re typed up by the time we leave? That the catch?

No catch. You don’t even gotta come to the meetin’.

I don’t have to –? Wow, Miller. You’re spoiling me, no? You kicked your leg, one knee hooked over the other. Your skirt shrinking up your thigh.

You were sat in the chair on the right, opposite his desk. You always sit in that one – and Joel’s still trying to figure out why. The working theory so far is that it’s at a good angle to watch the city below, and at the same time, see exactly who comes and goes in and out of the office during lunch.

But there has to be more to it, he thinks. He suspects. Martha’s desk is, like, five feet from yours. She spends her lunches in the conference room with Deb, shaking salads doused in balsamic vinegar and sharing cross-floor gossip. They invite you every day, and almost every day, you turn them down in favor of his shuttered office, the muted swish of cars on the street, the mock gasps and clutch of invisible pearls when you share that same fifth-floor gossip with him over the desk.

You’d been talking while he’d been thinking about the damn chair. He hadn’t heard a word of it. Huh? he asked, and you rolled your eyes.

Ain’t never listenin’, you muttered, peeling the damp paper back from your own sub.

Say it again, Joel said. Was just making a mental note to book dinner for us over there.

You scoffed, licking mayo from the corner of your lips. Why you making mental notes for anything? That’s what you pay me for.

And you were right – it is what he pays you for. Pays you to be his shadow, his right-hand man, his eyes and his ears and his entire brain, some days.

But lately – he doesn’t know. It’s different.

Truth be told, he has no idea what’s gotten into him. Looking at you the way he is. You’ve fucked around twice, now, and both times have been…nothing short of fucking amazing. Both times, Joel’s thought he might come within the first two minutes. Pushing inside your velvet walls, watching the way you roll forward, hearing the lewd moans pour across your lips.

He’s always thought you were attractive. It’s pretty fucking hard to ignore. Physically, sure – the look of your body, the way you know how to dress it. And the prettiest, softest face he’s ever seen. You can win him over in any discussion without a word, just by fluttering your eyelashes at him.

But you’re more than that. He thinks of you both as friends, maybe something more. Something deeper. It’s in the glances you steal, the silent lines tossed between one another. The way you read one another like an open book. Sometimes, he wonders if you actually can read his mind.

You’re intelligent, you’re funny, and you’re a hard fucking worker. Always on time, always seemingly juggling thirty things at once, and never letting him down. Nothing is too much, it seems; everything just is as it is. And he likes that about you. Simple. No baggage.

The morning of the flight, you send him a voice note telling him you’re downstairs. “And I ain’t lugging two cases up to the top floor only to bring ‘em back down when we’re leaving, Mr. CEO.”

He’s striding past Martha for the elevator before he’s even done listening to the message.

“Uh-uh!” she chirps, dashing over to slip between the brass doors behind him.

Joel sighs under his breath.

“I know better than to rely on you to remember all this stuff,” she says, holding up a file he’d asked her to put together for the trip.

She’s right not to – he’d probably leave that file in the car, or put it down somewhere and walk off without it. You’re the only one who can be trusted with it – with anything. You’re good at your job. And yet, he resents the fact that Martha’s about to lump you with even a fraction of responsibility for the next four days.

So when the Rolls pulls off and Martha is nothing but a pin-sized silhouette through the back window, still waving from the sidewalk, he pinches the folder in two fingers and tosses it to his left hip. Out of your grasp. You smile, eyes rolling, and pop your earbuds in. Joel breathes a laugh, eyes dipping again to skim read some contract on his phone. His hand is locked around your thigh. He likes that you just let him do it now.

Likes a lot of things about you. Likes that you put your music on shuffle, and then skip eleven tracks until you find one you actually want to listen to. Likes that your fingers twirl around the light chain of your necklace – the way they do anytime you’re nervous – and when he asks if you’re alright, you bareface lie to him and squeak, Yep.

Likes the glow the morning sun casts on you when you emerge from the car on the tarmac, pooling in the dimples on your cheeks, bright gold. The way you tug on the loose cotton of your sweatpants, bashful. Shy. And he likes that, when he follows you up the steps to the plane cabin, your awestruck expression lasts all of five seconds before that quick wit kicks straight back in.

“Feelin’ pretty guilty about all the air pollution,” you tell him, and Joel silently says his fifth thankful prayer this morning that he thought to ask you and not Martha.

He watches you settle into a seat by the window, watches you crane your neck to survey the view from the tiny circle of thick glass. He thinks about what he’d do if you were alone right now, if there weren’t crew slowly filing into the jet behind him.

He floats the idea. Tells you about the bedroom up back, tells you it’s cozy. You read between the lines just like he wants you to. And when the plane’s in the air, you follow after him.

You fall into bed together the same way you do when you arrive at the hotel. A tangle of limbs, of sweat and stuffy plane air. He sleeps the soundest he has in months – years, maybe. Pushed off by the sound of your breathing, the dip in the mattress by his side. The warmth which radiates from your body, the soft brush of your hand against his.

He puts it down to the travelling – the eight-hour flight, the plushy super king waiting on the other side. He puts it down to the way the world feels different, this side of the Atlantic. The privacy he feels come over the two of you, like sneaking into the next room: your voices muffled through the wall, your movements reduced to vague shadows beneath the door.

He watches you through sleepy eyes as you prance around the suite in the morning, twirling in and out of the bathroom while you get ready for the day. He wonders if this is what you’re like every day – if you spend your Monday mornings beaming like a little kid, toothbrush hanging lopsided from the corner of your mouth, white bubbles lining your gums. He wonders why he’s wondering. Why a part of him wants to see that version of you, too.

This version – now following his lead down Avenue Montaigne, doe-eyed and wonderstruck – is over all too soon. He’s dragged from her, from you, before he’s ready to leave.

His phone vibrates in his pocket right as he’s leading you out of some ridiculously overpriced jewelers – an irritating reminder of his meeting in an hour’s time.

“Fuck,” he whispers, holding you steady as you spin around to glimpse at the baroque building. “Hey, pretty girl,” he squeezes your hand, “I got some bad news.”

Your bottom lip pouts, eyes gleaming. It’s enough, he thinks, to convince him to stick around. If you asked him to, he’d text Jean-Marc right now and tell him to fuck off. But you tell him to go, tell him you’ll meet him back at the hotel once he’s done and you’re tired. With a teasing smirk and a tiny wave, you see him off down the cobbled street. He watches from the back window as you set off again, heading towards another iron-gated store.

Denis pulls up alongside the towering hotel, totters around the car to meet Joel as he stretches out of the Maybach. The square-jawed man stands with his hands linked, and nods enthusiastically when Joel thanks him.

“The shopping – I will take it back to the hotel,” he assures his boss, a wide smile on his lips.

He’s a good guy, Denis. He’s chauffeured Joel to five of these meetings over as many years – he knows the drill by now. Knows it’ll be a couple hours and a few whiskeys before he gets another call to pick him up.

His nodding doubles, more obedient when Joel asks him to make sure he listens for your call. “You mind stayin’ nearby that part of town?” he asks. “Just so – when she’s done, y’know…”

“Not at all,” Denis says, flapping two palms to the ground. Swatting away Joel’s concern, his worrying, his missing you.

He replies, a little absentmindedly, passing by the head of gray hair with a distant smile. “Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

Five meetings, five trips over here to be pestered by some obnoxious little man in an obnoxious little robe and obnoxious little loafers, and still, Joel never knows what to expect. He strides beneath the golden archway entrance into a domed lobby, every surface spotless and shining; marble counter in the center with a symmetrically-suited clerk sat behind.

She stands and smiles politely to Joel as he approaches, recognizing him with a flutter of her eyelashes. He feels the absence of your arm on his, an ache at his elbow.

“Monsieur,” she croons, pale fingers reaching for the telephone. She whispers something softly into the receiver and then nods, folding her painted lips together as she places the handset back into its cradle. With a floating hand aimed at the elevator behind her, she says, sultry and dreamlike, “He is ready for you.”

Joel fights an eyeroll with every fiber of his being. He wanders round the circular desk, bunches his shoulders into the tight elevator, and jams his thumb into the button marked P.

The doors shudder open when he reaches the top floor. He steps out slowly, waiting for the Frenchman to pounce on him like some kind of wild cat. Wouldn’t put it past him, Joel thinks. As he’s scanning the room, counting the six bouquets dotted around, there’s a single clap from behind the veiled curtains. A silhouette out on the terrace.

Jean-Marc swings between the sheer white, calling out to the lonely figure in his entryway. “If it isn’t my favorite American,” he sings, taking Joel by the arms and squeezing roughly. “How lovely to see you again, Joelie. Please, come.”

The sunlight blinds Joel when he steps out into it, peering over the city skyline under low brows. Jean-Marc is already sat at the top of a thin, glass table, pouring golden whiskey into a square glass and scooping two bulky ice cubes in. The nectar swirls around when the glass is held out to Joel, the ice tittering as he accepts it.

The table, a rocky terrain of pain au chocolat and brioche, pools of citrus spreads and dishes of butter. Joel keeps his hands to himself as Jean-Marc slaps jam onto a croissant, bronze flakes fluttering all over the table as he attempts to regale Joel with some investment into a casino.

“Riccardo says it is too much; I told him to go to hell. We will double the cost of the place, I know it, Joel. We have the eye for things like these, men like you and I, hm?”

Men like you and I, Joel thinks, lips tilting. He balances the glass on his thigh, watches the ice cubes turn over themselves. He thinks of you, thinks of the man you see him as. Thinks how tall he stands against the man Jean-Marc must see sat opposite him right now.

Thinks how rotten, and ugly, and how small the latter is. How easily you and your words could crumble him. All show, all sitting on perfect terraces with pretentious dickbags disguised as friends, drinking pissy whiskey with a plastered smile on his lips.

How comical it all is – the sound of yapping across the tabletop, These idiots would pay millions for manure if you painted it golden, the sprawling sheets of green-leafed plants, the headache-inducing flowers, the buckled loafers and the signet ring catching the sun.

How much he misses the weight of you on his hips, forearms flat on his chest, ear against his heart. The sound of your laughter lilting in his ear. The rosy smell of your skin and the feel of your eyelashes, featherlight on his cheek. He feels the distance between the two of you like elastic strung apart, stretching thinner and thinner, weaker and frailer, ready to snap into two halves at any moment.

“Anyways,” Jean-Marc says, lifting the wine bottle shakily. It clinks brashly against the lip of his glass, a painful scrape. Joel wonders if he’s already halfway to hammered. “Tell me how you’ve been, Joelie.”

Joel tells him he’s been fine. Business is fine. Money is fine. Company’s doing fine. Everything’s fucking fine. Easiest answer to avoid further questioning, to satiate Jean-Marc’s constant thirst for news, or intel, or just plain gossip.

He slips up, though. Makes the one colossal mistake he spent all morning hoping and praying and drilling directly into his brain that he wouldn’t.

Jean-Marc asks how his flight was, sticking the damp end of a cigarette to his bottom lip.

Joel says, “Good, yeah. We got here, maybe, ten o’clock last night.”

And Jean-Marc’s eyebrows arch. His hands freeze, match held against the striker strip. “We?” he asks, white stick flapping between his teeth.

“Uh,” Joel shifts in his seat. Your gentle wave, the corners of your lips, the toss of hair over your shoulder. It’s as though Jean-Marc can see his thoughts played on a reel before him, the haste with which Joel attempts to wipe you from his own mind. “Yeah,” he clears his throat, “Jerry ‘n Lisa. Len and Pol.”

The Frenchman’s eyes narrow, a grin pulling on his pink lips. “We,” he says again, whipping the match roughly against the strip. Speaking into cupped hands, a cloud of white billowing from his leathery fingers, he murmurs, “Joel brought company with him to Paris, yes? Who is the lucky tourist? Une petite amie?”

Joel’s tongue dabs at the sickly wash of whiskey on his lips. He thinks to grab the fucker by the throat, throttle him until the idea of you rattles from his skull, spilling back into Joel’s safe hands where you belong.

He almost fucking lies. Almost says it’s just Martha, or Drew, or his fucking mother. But Jean-Marc is like a rat, scurrying along after a source of water. He’ll find it in the end. They always do.

He breathes your name, reluctant to let it go. Jean-Marc cocks his head, leans in, a swirling snake of silky smoke lifting from the cigarette between his fingers. Joel repeats it, voice louder, but flatter. Breaks it into too many syllables. Lets his host hear every bite of annoyance.

“She’s my assistant,” he says, and Jean-Marc claps again.

“Your assistant! How wonderful. And where is she today? She is not…” his fingers circle the air, disturbing the trail of smoke, “…assisting you?”

“Gave her the afternoon off.” Joel lifts his glass to his lips. The geometric shape amplifies his voice, bass like the growl of a bear. “Busy couple days. She deserves some downtime.”

He hates the sound of your name as it peels from Jean-Marc’s tongue. Like a hangnail, the residue a gorge of bloody, torn skin. Your name is Joel’s favorite sound, he realizes now, and the way this little asshole keeps butchering it boils an anger so hot and so quick under his skin that he’s not sure he can hold it at bay.

It’s not as if he owns you or your name – far from it. He has no desire to be anything more than a placeholder: somewhere for you to slot your hand, rest your head, curl your body against. Still, he feels a direct protectiveness over you right now. An impulse to stand in front of Jean-Marc’s tiny figure, arms wide, stopping him from picturing you or learning about you or meeting you.

Which is, of course, exactly what the little fucker suggests.

A wet pff sound as he rids his mouth of bitter smoke, and he offers to host breakfast in the morning.

“No, no, we, uh –” Joel’s hands are up, like pleading with the man, whiskey kissing the lip of its glass, “– you don’t have to – Look, Jean-Marc, I’m sure you’re busy enough with all –”

“Nonsense!” Jean-Marc waves a hand. Ash sprinkles down the cuff of his robe. “It would be my pleasure. Shall we say, ten?”

Joel grumbles, eye following the flight of a bird in the distance. What are you doing right now? Are you back in the suite, trying on the outfit you picked out together? Are you still wandering down the streets, drinking up the lavish city like a perfect little cocktail of bliss and wonder?

And what the fuck does he have to do to excuse himself, to come find you, to wrap his arms around you and never let you leave his side again?

He feels idiotic. Juvenile. Like a stupid little teenager, pining for his junior year girlfriend. The feelings all sharp and brittle, prodding his heart roughly anytime he thinks too hard on them.

When he looks back to Jean-Marc – the cigarette tearing closer and closer to his fingers, an expectant smile on his lips – he concedes.

“Ten is fine,” he says, and suddenly, the sky casts over.

You’re on the terrace when he finally returns to the hotel room. Head aching from the alcohol and forced conversation, he drags himself over to you.

The sight of you, hair lifting in the breeze, the sweet smell and soft touch under his hands feels like the pouring of honey on a raw throat, like cool water lapping at his waist on a scorching day. And he needs more, and he feels the saliva pool beneath his tongue, and you’re touching him and talking to him and all he can think about is replacing his saliva with you – with every drop of you that you’ll lend him.

You follow his every request – parting your legs, making room for him between them, opening yourself to him like coming home after work, like sinking deep into your shared bed, like pushing your salt-slicked fingers on his tongue and chanting taste me taste me love me need me.

Petals opening, shards of orange separating. His cock throbs in his pants when he feels the circle of your hips against his jaw, the taste of sweet, sweet nectar spilling from your center. His clothes still smell of the smoke from Jean-Marc’s weedy lips; the sweat on his skin borne from three hours sat in the sun, dehydrated by whiskey, discussing money and gold and then money again.

He doesn’t want to fuck you here, like this. As that puny, pompous prick he’s felt like since the second he wandered through the Frenchman’s hotel doors. He can’t. You deserve him clean, new. You deserve the Joel you think he is – yours. Affected by your touch alone, moved by the gleam in your eye. You deserve him, Joel decides, on your terms.

And that same night, stood in the same spot, dregs of sunlight replaced by molten moonlight, staring at the dazzling Eiffel Tower against the deep blue sky – that same night, when he turns and clocks the silhouette of your body just feet from him, he realizes that this is it.

He’s sure he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, standing in the dim light, your fingers playing with the bust of the silk robe draped over your body. The jewelry on your neck catching the light like his own private attraction, his own little spectacle. Just for him.

He forgets any other version of himself. Shakes them off like seawater flying from his body as he emerges from the ocean. Venus stood before him; hair lifting in the light, palm over her breast. And he doesn’t notice the departure of those old versions; doesn’t feel the way they tear from his skin. His eyes are glued on you, only you, everything around the two of you reducing to dark matter. There is only his awestruck gaze pointed to your radiant form, as though the scene sits alive in the eye of Botticelli or Michelangelo.

Baby, he whispers, and you move forward, dragging him with you under a wave of lust and rebirth.

He stirs the next morning to the feeling of a weight shifting across his body, two divots in the mattress either side of his waist. Something nuzzling, warm and featherlight, into the nook below his earlobe. Wet kisses trailing down his neck.

There’s no weight of you in the crook of his arm anymore. He’s scooping thin air. He lifts it, and his palm meets the baggy cotton of his own T-shirt, draped over your body, draped over him.

A laugh brushes between his lips. “Mornin’, darlin’,” he croaks, voice still low and broken.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice like silk and sugar and tufts of lustrous clouds.

He opens his eyes and you’re hovering over him. Tip of your nose circling his, hips light as air across his own.

You look so fucking cute, he thinks. He’d take what he had last night – you, dripping in black lace and bound by satin straps – every night for the rest of his life, if he could. If you’d grant him it. But, this. This.

You – in Joel’s clothes and nothing else. You – the curl of your hair now a lazy wave, the smoky afterthought of your half-removed makeup. The smell of sex still lingering on your skin, the taste of Joel still home on your tongue. Each part of you laced with a part of him.

You – holding yourself up over him, less than an inch apart, and all Joel thinks to do is wrap his arms around your back and let you drop onto his body; his strong, solid body, which accepts the weight of you with only so much as a tiny grunt over his lips when you fall on top of him.

You giggle. He swears he feels butterflies in his stomach. He prays you don’t feel them, fluttering purposefully against your ribcage.

“You’re an idiot,” you mumble into his collarbone, words curled by the smile on your lips. You suck a mark into the hot skin, teeth and flesh and sel et sucre, and then push off from his chest, nudging his thighs wider with your knee.

Your tongue drags a wet trail down his chest, from solid sternum to suppler stomach, following the thickening of hair the lower you move. You leave wet kisses along the crests of his hipbones, the gentle slope of skin leading you to the wide base of his cock, already stiff.

Joel’s breath hitches when your tongue sweeps across it. Your eyes lift and lock with his, fingers taking a heavy hold of him. He smiles, tongue sitting patiently behind his teeth.

“Go on, angel,” he nods, “put that pretty little mouth on daddy.”

You obey instantly, as hungry for it as he is, your tongue swiping from the base of him up, curling around as you reach the head. Swollen, gleaming, slit dripping with slick precome that you lick with just the tip of your tongue and send a roll of pleasure across every nerve in Joel’s body.

He falls back, hands searching for the back of your skull as your lips sink further down down down, tightening around the smooth skin, stopping only when they meet the tuft of hair decorating his dick. His tip pushes against the back of your throat. His head begins to spin.

His back arches, hands anchored on your head, holding you steady as you bob up and down. His shoulders push heavy into the mattress, tummy sucks in until the points of his ribcage mold through his skin. And, oh – you’re so soft with it, so wet and so warm and so good with your tongue, kitten licks over his tip, wet fist wrapped tight around the width of him.

You lift your hand and meet his halfway up his stomach, fingers intertwining, Joel’s knuckles instantly whitening.

“Doin’ so good, baby,” he groans, gasping when your throat constricts around him again.

You gag, choking with a wet grunt, but you never pull away. A quick pause, a heavy breath from your nostrils, and your movements resume.

“’s alright,” Joel coos, fingers rubbing against the back of your hand, “you got it. Atta-girl, fuck.”

His hips begin to lift, slowly jerking up into your mouth. He looks down, loosens the grip you have on his hand only to run his thumb delicately across your cheek, dabbing lightly at the tears in the corner of your eye.

You suck hard around him, cheeks hollowing, tongue flattening to his underside to let him fuck your mouth – a rhythm of sopping sounds and heartbeat hums from your throat. He’s close. He’s so fucking close.

“Just like that,” he tells you, and you blink up at him. Moans muffled by the mouthful of cock, saliva and sex slipping from your swollen lips. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come. You’re such a good girl – you want daddy to give it to you?”

Mhm, you mumble into the warmth of his cock, the vibration of your throat on the eager skin enough to send Joel over the fucking edge. He throws his head back, lifts his hips up to you, and fills your mouth at the same rate he fills the room with the sound of his orgasm.

You take every last drop. You’re so good for him. Once he stills, once the screaming in his ears subsides, once the room slowly desaturates back to normal, a faded, blurry normal – he sits up and hooks his hands under your arms, pulling you up into him.

You collapse against his chest for the second time this morning, giggling and licking the last of his come from your mouth. Joel guides your jaw towards his, lips meeting in the middle, and licks the salty aftertaste from your tongue.

He rolls you both over, your thighs sitting safe on his hips.

“I know,” you sigh, head rolling against the curve of his arm beneath, “I know. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“Tell you what, angel?” he asks, one eyebrow lifting.

“Best head you ever had. I know.”

He scoffs, lips finding the hinge of your jaw. You giggle into his ear, a sound softer than birds cooing at the break of dawn, sweeter than the first bite of ripe fruit – the sharp taste bursting across his tongue and coating his teeth in sugar, numbed by the holy coaxing of feathered doves.

“You’re good with it, I’ll give you that,” he murmurs, and the giggle erupts into a laugh which fuels him enough to follow your roll out of bed, tear his shirt from your shoulders, and slip into the shower behind you, kneeling before you when you turn to look.

Joel’s second encounter with Jean-Marc in as many days, goes about as well as the first.

He balls his fists as he introduces the pair of you, watches like a caged and bound animal as Jean-Marc’s eyes loop all around your face, your shoulders, the pull of your dress around your waist.

He knows he’s being quiet. The glances you keep stealing at him tell him you know it, too. He wishes there was something he could say, something his lips might be able to carve into a neat little sentence. Tongue sanding the jagged edges of what he’d really like to say into a joke, a quip to ease the tension you so obviously feel.

But he can’t. His tongue isn’t blunt, isn’t defensive. It’s sharp like the kiss of venom, protective and aggressive. He knows he’d do better to hold it tight between his teeth.

The best he finds himself able to do is keep a heavy hand on your thigh, let you wrap your fingers around his own, squeeze you in place of whispering in your ear.

You hold your own, up against Jean-Marc. He knew you would. He learned less than a week into working with you, not to underestimate you. Your quick tongue, the million and one observations hidden behind the flash of a frown. He knows you can read Jean-Marc – probably better than he can, having known the guy ten years.

It doesn’t make it feel any safer, though. Luring you into a lion’s den. He knows you’ll make it out alive, but he can’t stand the thought of the claw marks in your skin.

That feeling washes over him again – that urge scored so deep into his bones that it hits marrow, to put himself between you and anything which might come to harm you. He swallows it down with the acidic sting of orange juice – slots it somewhere safe in his chest until he can assess whatever the fuck it is. Whatever the fuck it means.

His hand tightens around your leg when Jean-Marc mutters something to his assistant. Joel decides against asking you what it means, for fear he’ll tear the Frenchman limb from limb, strips of satin robe strung across the paved patio.

The assistant – tall, thin, looming over you like impending doom on legs – offers to show you the view of the city. And as Jean-Marc settles into your empty chair, the image of that torn satin robe shunts closer towards reality.

“I wonder if you might indulge me,” Jean-Marc slithers, pinching thin air with one hand and resting the other on the back of Joel’s chair.

“I wonder,” Joel mutters, finger tapping angrily on the table.

“She is a wonderful character. Beautiful, and very smart, I can see. I would be crazy not to ask, you must understand, Joel –”

He can’t help himself. He bites before Jean-Marc lays the trap. His head shakes. “She’s – she’s –”

And suddenly there isn’t a single word in the English dictionary worthy of describing you. Not a single combination of letters, of sounds, of syllables and phonetics that would do you justice.

He settles for, “I wouldn’t be anywhere without her.” It feels fucking redundant. It is fucking redundant.

Jean-Marc nods. “And you know that I see the value in things, hm?”

Joel dead-eyes his opponent, gaze narrowing. “What are you sayin’, Jean-Marc?”

“Well,” he shrugs, gesturing to the shadow pointing out the Eiffel Tower, “Paul is fantastic. Dedicated, hardworking. But it is a lot, for one person. I am sure you can understand, being that you have two assistants yourself.”

“And you wanna take one of ‘em out from under me?”

Jean-Marc chuckles, shaking his head. Tutting. Teeth grinding. He senses the bitter tone, hears the distortion of words squeezing through gritted teeth. “Not at all, my dear Joelie, not at all.”

Placating. It pisses Joel off more.

“I simply would like to raise the question of: would she like to be…taken?”

“Taken?”

“Hired. By me.”

The smug grin which pulls over taut lips incites Joel with a desire to punch the luminous veneers from their gummy holders. His fist balls again, nails digging harshly into his palm. He swallows roughly.

“She seems…she seems happy enough where she is to me.” He glances over, catches your eye for a fleeting second before Paul’s ghostly hand perches on your shoulder and turns your attention away again. Resigned, he adds, “You would have to ask her. I ain’t speakin’ for her.”

Jean-Marc’s leer only grows. “Ask her,” he repeats, nodding. “That is an idea.” He pushes out of his chair with a squeal of wood across stone, calling to the party, “Why don’t we take a drive? There is so much of the city I would love to show you – both of you, of course.”

Before he knows it, Joel’s on his feet, too, panic hammering through every muscle in his body. He tosses some half-assed excuse to the breeze; a half-truth, a desperate attempt to pull you away from the beady eyes and sharp claws of Jean-Marc and his assistant, and back over to his side. He takes your arm and scatters, pulling you past four, five, six bursting bouquets, your heels clicking along the polished floor, your head spinning.

He can feel the blood thrashing through his veins as the elevator arrives back in the lobby. Can see the shadow of Paul the assistant still over your shoulder, the place his hand sat like charcoal on white linen. He feels red hot, anger mixed with panic mixed with a word he hasn’t let slip just yet. He covers it by answering your questions shakily, diverting the ones about the conversation on the terrace.

And then you’re back in the safety of Denis’s car. You’re back to being on your own, together. No third set of eyes watching your every move, studying you like you’re some doll to be observed, or worse. You’re touching him again, holding his arm, caressing his cheek. His breathing eases, his body relaxes into the backseat of the Maybach.

You tell him you’d like to see the Louvre. So Joel takes you to see the Louvre.

Joel Miller has never been in love.

He’s said it, sure. Said it plenty to Avery.

G’night, love you.

I’m so proud of you, sweet; I love you so much.

Thanks for makin’ dinner, babe, I love you.

It began to take the form of breath, passing over his tongue with as much ease and instinct as his lungs would push out air. She looked at him a certain way – he’d say he loved her. They’d talk about the future – he’d tell her he loved her. They fought, over his working hours or the interest rates at different banks or whose family to spend Christmas with – and he’d remind her he loved her.

He meant every single one. He did, truly, love her. He loved her auburn hair, the way it’d sweep over her shoulders like a wave of fire. He loved the way she would pause to take thirty photos of the sky at sunset. He loved how homely she was, how simple and warm she could be. Her recipe books lining the shelves in her kitchen. Her pajamas folded neatly at the foot of her bed, waiting for her at the end of the day.

He loved her enough to spend four years with her, a life split nearly down the middle. Never seeping into one another. His side of the bed, and hers. His items in the fridge, and hers. His fucking bathrobe, and hers.

But right now, standing in a jam-packed room, maneuvering awkwardly around museum guides and backpacked tourists, avoiding the knee-height glass barriers and dodging fucking selfie sticks – Joel knows: he has never been in love.

Not until the moment he turns from some headless bust to search the room – the dark marble walls and great, carved arches; the white Parisian sky illuminating everything in a pale glow. Not until he catches a glimpse of you amongst the sea of bodies – stood before the Venus de Milo, staring up in wonder at Aphrodite like she’s the first thing in the world you’ve ever truly seen. The gentle lean of her body, the low sling of marble fabric around her waist, the soft dimple of her navel.

The way your eyes scan every detail of her form – every fold draped over her thigh, ever chisel mark and chip in her torso. The round swell of her breasts and the wavelike swirl of her hair. Barely blinking, afraid to lose sight of her for even a second.

Joel’s never been in love. Not until this very moment.

He only turned to make some quip about…well, now he can’t fucking remember, can he? Something irrelevant. Something so mundane, so meaningless, so dull that he wishes he could take back every word he ever said to you and use the breath more wisely – use the time spent making stupid jokes and work orders, just to look at you. Watch you, like he is right now. Every other thought, every worry and concern drop weightlessly from his mind, with such ease that he doesn’t feel the loss.

Your fixed stare up at the statue’s set face, the slow pacing of your heels, ankles crossing over one another as you pivot around her. And the look of wonder on your face – as if Joel instantly recognizes eight-year-old you, thumbing through the pages of the first art book she was ever gifted, copying the curled hair and round shoulders of the marble goddess in a pencil sketch.

Haloed by the towering windows behind you, arms crossed over your chest. Lips melting from a content smile to agape, and then pinning back in a smile again.

And suddenly – he can’t remember the flame of hair over his ex’s shoulder. Doesn’t remember a single meal she ever cooked for him. In the blink of an eye, he realizes he doesn’t want a life neatly split anywhere.

He realizes that his life, the way he wants it, was always meant to be meshed with yours. Intertwined so tightly that there is no his and hers. Last night at dinner, you couldn’t decide between the bœuf bourguignon and the confit de canard, so Joel ordered both – as well as what he wanted – and the two of you picked at three separate meals. Holding out forkfuls to feed one another, comparing and judging them like professional chefs on a fucking cooking show.

Back at the hotel, you fell asleep in his arms. Your head nestled under his chin; your arms curved around his shoulders. In the center of the bed, laying at an angle. When he got up this morning, the robe he threw around himself smelled like your perfume. The terrycloth on your shoulders, tinged with the weak scent of whiskey.

None of it – not the relationship you had before any of this happened, not the strolling over one boundary to the next, not the blurring of lines between colleague, and friend, and lover – has been neat. None of it has made any sense. And maybe that’s why he fucking trusts it so much.

Joel spent the first two weeks after you fooled around in his office swearing he wasn’t that guy. Staring himself down in the mirror with a balled fist, a pointed finger that said, You don’t sleep with your fucking assistant, you idiot.

And now, standing opposite you in a crowded room and only seeing you – he knows. He finally gets it.

He loves you. He – no, fuck.

He doesn’t just love you.

He’s on his knees, dagger through his heart –

blood spilling all over the pristine floor –

pathetic and adolescent in its nature –

butterflies tearing through his stomach as destructive as a hurricane –

in love with you.

He thinks to say it. To wander over and kiss your shoulder, hook his chin into your collarbone like he did in the Dolce and Gabbana store, and whisper, Hey. I love you. Did you know that?

But he knows that’d be fucking insane. Knows you’d probably unstick yourself from him and back up, tripping in your step. Paris ruined.

He knows he’d probably get so far as curving around your back and then bottle it, anyway. The words would die in his throat. You’d just lean back into him, none the wiser. You’d still make his heart pound.

Pound the way it does when you reach for his wrist and drag him off into the next room, and the next, and the next. And with every piece of art your eyes fall upon, another fragment of your soul is revealed to Joel. The depth of da Vinci, the color of Bruyère. The scale of Veronese and the beauty of Canova.

And with every part revealed, a desire blooms in him to learn the next part. Understand you; know you better than he knows himself. See you, the way he’s seeing you right now.

He takes his ex’s lead, when you’re stood in front of the Mona Lisa. All those fucking sunset photos, like she was afraid to forget what it looked like. The thought becomes urgent, pushing past every other meaningless word in his head.

He taps you on the shoulder, says your name lightly. When you turn, he’s already holding the phone up, watching your delayed motions through the screen. Please don’t let me forget this. Don’t let me forget you, like this.

“Smile,” he says, and you do.

“You’re cheesy,” you tell him, wandering off from the painting.

He’s still staring at the photo. At your dimpled cheeks, your red lips. Staring at your eyes, seeing a new glint in them that wasn’t there before. Like eight-year-old you smiling back at him, trusting him, knowing him.

Joel breathes, “She’s beautiful,” taking your waist in a steady arm to guide you out of the room.

You misunderstand him. He knows it. He doesn’t correct you.

She’s beautiful – the Mona Lisa. But she only became beautiful the second you laid eyes on her. The second she handed you a piece of your soul, the transaction laid bare for Joel to witness. A bucket list item ticked, or simply your childhood self, stood before one of her own seven wonders.

Everything is only beautiful after it comes into contact with you.

There’s a change in you, the morning that you leave. Something low-lying, melancholy and blue. Joel feels it under your skin, in the grip you keep on his hand the entire car ride from the hotel to the airport.

“You good?” he asks, walking up the steps of the jet, shelled around you. Safe, with him, safe with him.

You nod, but you’re watching the Maybach roll off, rounding the corner back to the airport. The same way you watch the city disappear beneath the clouds as the plane takes off.

The same way you glance over to him, your glossy eyes twinkling, pearly tears swimming across your waterline. Joel gets it. Figures he feels much the same.

He leads you slowly back through to the dark cabin bedroom, where you peel the shirt and sweats from your body. He watches from the bed, arm outstretched and inviting you to burrow into his side, curl around his body, loop your legs through his. His own little Aphrodite, the curves and the dimples and all the beauty to go with her.

He sinks his shoulder to let you nuzzle into him, let your slow-closing eyes follow his movements like rocking you back and forth to sleep. You link your arm through his, locking your bodies tight together. Joel slows his typing down, moves gentler, so you can fall asleep without being nudged too much by his arm.

You mumble something into the sleeve of his tee. He pauses. Looks down at your already closed eyes, your parted lips.

“What’d you say, baby?”

You take a deep, slow breath. Already sleeping, he thinks. And then, in the sigh that escapes from your mouth, you whisper to him.

“Please don’t ever leave.”

[apiswitchcraft]

greek god epithets

this post includes zeus, hera, athena, demeter, ares, hephaestus, and poseidon. for part two including hades, persephone, hekate, aphrodite, hermes, apollo, artemis, and dionysus click here

epithets are surnames (as <god's name> <epithet>) used to call upon the greek gods without saying their name directly. the epithet that you choose often corresponds to the purpose you are invoking them for

ZEUS:

-OMBRIUS/HYETIUS/APHESIUS= of the rain

-SCOTITAS= the dark/murky

-CERAUNIUS= of the thunderbolt

-ASTRAPAEUS= of the lightning

-CATAEBATES= the descending

-LABRANDEUS= the furious/raging

-ICMAEUS= of moisture

-CONIUS= of the dust

-MAEMACTES= the boisterous

-EVENEMUS= of fair winds

-LIMENOSCOPUS= the watcher of sea havens

-BASILEUS/CORYPHAEUS= the king/chief/ruler

-HYPATUS/HYPSISTUS= the supreme

-CTESIUS= of the house/property

-HERCEIUS= of the courtyard

-BULAEUS= of the council

-AMBULIUS= the counsellor

-TELEUS/ZYGIUS= of marriage

-MOIRAGETES= the leader of the Fates

-CLARIUS= of the lots

-SEMALEUS= the giver of signs (like clairvoyant messages)

-MECHANEUS= the contriver

-COSMETES= the orderer

-THEUS AGATHUS= the good God

-EPIDOTES= the giver of good

-PLUSIUS= of wealth

-PHILIUS= of friendship

-XENIUS= of hospitality/strangers

-HICESIUS= of suppliants

-PHYXIUS= of refuge

-PALAMNAEUS= the punisher of murderers

-CATHARSIUS= of ritual purification

-PROSTROPAEUS= the turner of pollution

-APEMIUS= averter of ills (ailments)

-SOTER= the savior/deliverer

-MILICHIUS= the gracious/merciful

-PANHELENIOS= of all the Greeks

-LAOITES= of the people

-POLEIUS= of the city-state

-SOSIPOLIS= the city-savior

-ELEUTHEREUS= of freedom

-CHRYSAORUS= of the Golden Sword

-STATIUS/AREIUS= of war/the warlike

-STHENIUS= of strength/the strong

-TROPAEUS= turns to flight/who defeats

-PHYXIUS= puts to flight/banishes

HERA:

-PAIS= the girl

-NYMPHEUOMENE= the betrothed bride

-TELEIA= the (adult) woman/the goddess of marriage

-CLEIRA= the widow

-GAMELIA= of marriage

-ATAUROTE/PARTHENOS= the virginal

-ZYGIA= presider over marriage

-HENIOCHE= of the chariot

-ANTHEA= of the flowers

-ARGOEA= of the ship Argo

-HYPERCHEIRIA= whose hand is above

-BASILEIA= the queen

ATHENA:

-NIKE= victory

-AREIA/PALLAS= of war/the warlike

-ZOSTERIA= girded in armor

-STHENIAS= of strength/the strong

-POLEMODOCUS= the war sustaining

-HIPPIA= of horses

-CHALINITIS= bridler of horses

-ERYMA= the defender

-SOTEIRA= the savior

-ALALACOMENEIS= the protectress

-POLIAS= of the city

-POLIUCHUS= the city protectress

-POLIATIS= the keeper of the city

-ERGANE= the worker

-PAEONIA= the healer

-HYGEIA= of good health

-ALEA= of escapes to refuge

-AMBULIA= the counsellor

-PRONOEA= of foresight

-APATURIA= the deceiver/of deception

-MACHANITIS= contriver of plans

-OXYDERCES= the sharp sighted

-CORYPHASIA/CORYPHAGENES= relating to the head (like her birth)

-PARTHENUS= the virgin/maiden

-CORIA= the maiden

-XENIA= of hospitality (especially to strangers/foreigners)

DEMETER:

-CHTHONIA/DEO= of the earth

-CHLOE= the green/the first shoots

-EPOGMIA= of the furrows

-ANESIDORA= she who sends forth gifts

-PLUTODOTIRA= the giver of wealth

-CARPOPHORUS/MALOPHORUS= bearer of fruit

-THERMASIA= of warmth/heat

-MEGALA THEA= the great Goddess

-MEGALA MATER= the great Mother

-THESMOPHORUS= the bringer of law

-THESMIA= of the laws

-PROSTASIA= the patron/leader

-PANACHAEA= of all the Greeks

-ERINYS= of fury/wrath

-MELAENA= the black

-LUSIA= the bathing/purifying

-HORAPHORUS= the bringer of season

-POLYPHORBUS= the all nourishing/bountiful

-AGLAOCARPUS= the giver of goodly fruit

-AGLAODORUS= the bestower of splendid gifts

-CALLISTEPHANUS= the beautifully crowned

-EUSTEPHANUS= the lovely crowned

-EUCOMUS= the lovely haired

-XANTHE= the blonde/golden-haired

-CYANOPEPLUS= the dark veiled/cloaked

-CALLISPHYRUS= the beautiful

-CHRYSAORUS= of the golden blade

-DIA THEA= the bright Goddess

-SEMNE= the holy/revered

-HAGNE= the pure/chaste/holy

-ANASSA/POTHIA= the queen

-POTHIA THEAON= the queen amongst goddesses

-CYDRA THEA= the glorious/noble goddess

-ORGIA= of religious orgies

-MYSTERIA= of mysteries

ARES:

-THERITAS= the beastly/brutish

-HIPPIUS= of the horses

-APHNEIUS= the abundant

-GYNAECOTHOENAS= feasted by women

-MIAEPHONUS= the blood stained/bloody

-LAOSSOUS= he who rallies men

-BROTOLOEGUS= the manslaughtering

-ANDREIPHONTES= the destroyer of men

-CHALCEUS/CHALCOCORUSTES= of the bronze/armed with bronze

-TEICHESIPLETES= the stormer of cities

-AATUS POLEMOEO= insatiate of fighting/war

-ENCHESPALUS= spear-brandishing

-RHINOTORUS= shield/flesh piercing

-OXYS= the sharp/piercing

-THOOS= the swift/fleet

-THURUS= the violent/furious

-OBRIMUS= the strong/mighty

-DINUS= the terrible/fearsome

-ENYALIUS= the warlike

-CHRYSOPELEX= of the golden helm

HEPHAESTUS:

-CLYTUS= the renowned/famed

-PERICLYTUS/AGACLYTUS= the very famed/the glorious

-CLYTOMETIS/CLYTOTECHNES= famed for crafts/skills

-POLYTECHNES= of many skills

-POLYPHRON= the ingenious/inventive

-POLYMETIS= resourceful

-AETHALOIS THEUS= the sooty god

-CHALCEUS= the bronze/copper smith

-CYLLOPODIUM/AMPHIGYEIS= referring to his disability

POSEIDON:

-BASILEUS= the king/lord

-PELAGAEUS= of the sea/marine

-AEGAEON= of the Aegeon sea

-PROSCLYSTIUS= who dashes against

-ASPHALIUS= who secures safe voyage

-EPOPTES= the overseer/watcher

-GAEOCHUS= the holder of the earth

-ENNOSIGAEUS= shaker of the earth

-HIPPIUS= of the horses

-HIPPOCURIUS= the horse tender

-PHYTALMIUS= the plant nurturer

-GENETHLIUS= of the kin/the kindred

-DOMATITES= of the house

-LAOITES= of the people

[allmythologies]

mythology parent & child: aphrodite, deimos & phobos

aphrodite is the goddess of love, procreation, and pleasure. deimos & phobos are the personified spirits of fear. deimos represent terror and dread, while his brother phobos is panic, flight and rout. due to their mother being aphrodite, the twins also represent fear of loss.

[xoxochb]

— once upon a dream

warnings: implied sex but that’s it pairing: apollo x goddess! daughter of aphrodite and ares

when you woke from your slumber you noticed a variety of things around you. In a dissociated, almost confused trance you squint your eyes as they flutter open, the bright sunlight peering through the many windows of the sun palace blinding you. stupid sun. what you notice next is the slight ache filling your bare legs, not quite fully there but enough that you know it’s there. stupid husband. you additionally realize that he wasn’t laying practically on top beside you, meaning— obviously that he had already gotten up to fulfill his godly duties. you frown at the loss of warmth and sit up, quickly wishing yourself into clothing as you stand. a long pink floral sundress- you smooth it out with your hands before walking to your vanity to fix your messy hair (although admittedly not messy since you were aphrodite’s daughter. she’d never let her children look as awful as mortals do in the morning)

when you finish touching up you exit the bedroom and walk down the many flights of stairs and to the kitchen where you fix yourself breakfast. gods didn’t necessarily have to work the way you do; they could teleport, conquer up whatever they wanted, change their appearances at their own will, but you love the simplicity of doing things the mortal way. you take a bite from your toast when you hear a noise from outside, a smile adorning your face instantly. you weren’t going to allow your husband to get away without a scolding though. you place the rest of your toast on a plate and rush outside to the stables where to much your assumptions was the sun god petting his horses

“you are an asshole” you comment, crossing your arms. apollo turns to you with a smirk, then a faint blush at what you assume was the recurring vision of last nights activities

“I missed you too”

you roll your eyes and pet the horse he has previously been doing the same too. “you should have woken me up. I wanted to go with you this morning”

“you have the rest of eternity to go with me”

you glare at him, the very same look you had received from your father. “you will wake me up tomorrow morning”

It wasn’t a request but a demand. however if you had worded it as a request apollo wouldn’t have said no to you anyways. he stands beside you and wraps an arm around your waist, turning you to face him, his other hand rests on your neck/jaw, fingers tangling into your hair. you sigh and ultimately melt into his touch. “I swear on the river styx I will wake you tomorrow” he promises, sealing it with a kiss. when he reluctantly pulls away you cant suppress the grin making its way to your face. stupid husband and his womanizing ways

“now,” you begin “let’s go back to bed for a bit?”

and you know the answer

[seresinsbabe]

Jealousy, Jealousy.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader

Synopsis: You get a little jealous about Jake's new coworker, but instead of telling him why you decide to try and make him jealous instead.

Warnings: pwp, EXPLICIT smut, face fucking, choking, slapping, light bondage, dirty talk, degrading, praising, over all dom!jake, some fluff at the end.

Word Count: 3k

THIS FIC IS 18+ MINORS DNI!

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Green eyes narrowed into slits as he watched you up at the bar. The man you were toying with was fucking you with his eyes and he wasn’t even being shameful about it. That megawatt smile of yours seemed permanently plastered on your face as you forced a laugh at something he was saying.

Jake knew what you were doing.

He knew the second you stepped out of your shared bedroom in that dress. The one that hugged your curves in all the right places and dipped just low enough to show off your cleavage without looking trashy.

You were pissed at him. He’d talked a little too excitedly about a new coworker. You didn’t know her actual name, just that her call sign was Aphrodite. It was the first time you’d ever felt concerned about the status of your relationship. Jake hadn’t even realized he’d been talking about her so excitedly. He was just happy that he wasn’t the only one stuck training the new aviators anymore. That someone else could help go over flight plans so he could spend more time with you. Not to mention she was a skilled and experienced aviator herself. Jake enjoyed sharing stories with her.

It wasn’t until you’d asked how work with Aphrodite had been that he realized something was wrong. It was the way you said her name. Like it was poison and you were trying to spit it out of your mouth. Jake knew you well enough to know what that meant. When he asked you about it you just deflected, chalked it up to you just being tired and moody. He didn’t buy it, but he was running late and he figured you would talk to him about it when you were ready. 

That was one of the things you loved about Jake. He never pushed you to talk, he just offered you a lap to snuggle into and waited until you opened up. It was different this time. You’d sunk so deep into a level of insecurity you hadn’t felt since before Jake cockily walked into your life. 

The way he’d talked about Aphrodite brought up memories from your previous relationships. Even if in all reality it wasn’t anything you should have been suspicious about.

Still, you’d sunk so deep as a defense mechanism you had surpassed the crying or arguing phase. You’d gone straight for the antagonizing phase. Wanting to see how far you could push him before he finally got pissed off enough.

Jake had never experienced you being this jealous before. He always thought you knew how much he loved you. Maybe he had taken that for granted. As far as he was concerned you’d hung the moon and the stars and there was no one better than you. He had no idea that there was the tiniest bit of insecurity in you. That some pretty, hotshot pilot would come along and he would find in them something he couldn’t find in you. 

You weren’t a pilot. And sure, you were a military brat, but you worked for a book editor. Your job was boring. You didn’t save anyones life, you just proofread young adult fantasy novels and porn with plot books. What was exciting about that in comparison to a fighter pilot who was so pretty her call sign was the goddess of beauty?

What you didn’t know was earlier that week Jake had shown Aphrodite the ring he’d picked out. It was almost as beautiful as you are and when he saw it, he just knew it would look pretty on your hand. And the woman had gushed about it. Asking Jake where he’d gotten it because she was preparing to pop the question to her own long term girlfriend. 

Right now he was wishing he’d already asked you. So that way the ring would shine right in the douchebag's eye.

His eyes never left you, even as the man who’d just bought you another drink led you out to the dancefloor. If Jake didn’t know any better he would have caused a scene. Hell, he came close until you finally met his gaze. The glint in your eyes reminded him that you were doing this on purpose. You wanted to get a rise out of him, but he wasn’t going to give you that satisfaction.

Jake would remind you at home why his body was the only one you should be pressed against in the middle of some pretentious club.

“You think you’re so slick, don’t you little one?” Jake’s voice was low as he pinned you against the wall in the entryway of your home. 

A grin curved your lips and the mischievous glint in your eyes came back. “Whatever are you talking about? I was a perfectly good girl tonight.” A blatant lie if you’d ever heard one. Your actions tonight had gotten you in exactly the position you wanted to be in.

Jake didn’t say anything, instead he just hoisted you over his shoulder. A harsh smack landed on your cheek and had you yelping.

Once in your room he set you down and you were finally able to get a good look at his eyes. They were a much darker shade of green than normal. “On your knees.” It was an order and from his tone you knew not to disobey. Your knees hit the plush carpeting in your bedroom and his hand came down to caress your cheek. “You remember your safe word sweetheart?” His voice was sweeter, waiting for your nod of acknowledgement. “Good. Color?”

“Green.” 

Jake’s face changed again. You could feel your pussy clenching around nothing at the idea of what all he might do to you. His belt was the first article of clothing to come off, but rather than discard it on the floor it was wrapped around your neck. Jake pulled tight enough to send the sensation straight to your core, but not so tight it was dangerous. 

You let out a moan and your eyes rolled back just slightly. The blonde aviator felt himself grow harder at the sight. He loved having you like this and he planned on fucking you so hard all the came out of you was incoherent babbles. Jake was going to make a mess of the woman he loved.

His cock was straining against his jeans and he finally undid them, pushing them down just enough to release himself. “Open your mouth.” You did as you were told and watched as Jake pursed his lips to spit. The glob of saliva landing perfectly on your tongue. “Swallow.” Again you did as you were told and seeing the pride in his eyes as you listened had more arousal coating your thighs. “I’m going to fuck your throat little one, if you need to me to stop you tap my knee twice.” You nodded, trying to keep your excitement at bay. “Open up.”

No sooner had you opened your mouth was his cock sliding in, the head of him tapping the back of your throat. You felt your throat constrict at the intrusion and Jake groaned at the sensation. The sound went straight to your pussy. Fuck, everything Jake did went straight to your pussy. You were addicted to the man and the way he made you feel in every aspect of your relationship.

He gave you a minute to prepare, the hand that wasn’t holding onto the belt wound into your hair, gripping at the crown of your head to give him leverage. Then he was thrusting, skull fucking you in a way he’d only done a few times since you’d been together. When you’d been especially bratty like you’d been tonight. 

“Su..ungh..uch a good girl.” He grunted and the praise had you moaning on his cock between gags. Each sound Jake drew out of you only had him fucking you harder. Tears were streaming down your face, the smokey shadow and mascara you had on streaking down your cheeks.

You could feel his cock twitch in your throat and you knew he was close. You were waiting to feel him cum down your throat, but it never came, instead he pulled his cock out, tapping you softly on the cheek.

“Ah, on all fours.” The command came as you went to push up on your feet. You dropped to your hands, looking up at Jake through lashes that were clumped together from your tears. He licked his lips, his pupils blown out with lust as he looked at you on all fours. 

The belt around your neck was used as a makeshift leash, Jake walking you towards your bed where he sat on the edge. His hard cock stood straight up, resting against his abdomen. Your eyes were drawn to it, staring until he spoke again.

“Look at you.” He hummed, finally letting go of the belt so he could grip your chin. “On all fours like some kind of bitch,” normally he would never call you that and you would never stand for it. Right now, though? Fuck did it do things to you. “I bet your pussy is just dripping down your thighs right now. Turn around, put that ass up, daddy wants to see.” He tapped your cheek a little harder this time before nodding his head.

Biting your lip you turned around and arched your ass up, pressing your face close to the floor. From behind you the groan he let out was low. Suddenly two of his fingers were swiping from your clenching hole down to your clit and then they were gone. You whimpered and turned to look only to find Jake stroking himself, using your arousal as lubricant. The sight had you whimpering and wiggling your ass in the air. Asking for him to fuck you, but he just shook his head. 

“Not yet, little one. C’mere.” His accent slipped a little, indicating just how aroused he was at the moment. 

When you reached him again he lifted you up and laid you on your back on bed. With one hand he held your wrists above your head and with the other he secured your hands to the head board.

Jake didn’t want you running from the pleasure and he knew without the restraint that’s exactly what you would do. “Be a good girl for daddy and try not to move too much.” He knew he could only ask so much, because he knew what he was about to do.

A kiss was placed on your forehead and then he trailed his nose down along your skin, taking in your scent and leaving nips here and there. Well, not really nips. They were marks. Ones that you knew you’d see come morning.

Upon reaching your nipple he bit down roughly. You yelped again but that quickly changed into a moan as you bucked your hips, searching for some sort of friction. Jake sucked your nipple into his mouth while he spread your legs and situated himself between them before continuing his trek down. 

Coming face to face with your sloppy cunt he ran his nose along your inner thighs, nipping as he went. The scent of your arousal made him groan. You always smelled so sweet, especially when you were this worked up.

His arms snaked under and around your thighs, throwing your legs over his shoulders as he settled with his face centimeters away from your cunt. “No coming until I say so.” 

Fuck. You were in for a long night. 

“Oh-ungh!” You whimpered out as his tongue licked a stripe up your slit. Your hips moved and Jake’s grip tightened to hold you still.

Collecting some of your slick on his thumb he pressed hard circles into your clit as his tongue dove into your cunt. You cried out loudly, your head thrashing back. Jake was eating you like you were his last meal and it was a fucking heavenly experience. You’d never met a man as skilled with his mouth as Jake was, but Jake had also never loved eating someone the way he did with you. If all he had to survive on was your pussy, he would die one happy man.

“Daddy…p-puh...so…gonna…” Just as you felt that blinding light about to hit the ministrations stopped.

Your eyes shot open and Jake felt his cock grow harder at the wild look in your eyes. “What did daddy say?” You whimpered, but didn’t answer him. “Words little one, or you won’t cum at all tonight.” The threat had you stilling because you knew it was true. He would absolutely deprive you of an orgasm. He’d done it before.

“No coming.” You whined, but nodded your head in agreement.

“Good girl, he purred and dipped his head back down. Only this time he sucked your clit into his mouth while two of his fingers dove inside of you. 

“Daddy!” The sensations were so getting so intense you dug your heels into the mattress and tried to push away, but Jake wouldn’t let you. Instead the arm that was still looped around one of your thighs tightened again, squeezing almost painfully. 

Jake could feel you clench around his fingers and just before you came he pulled his fingers out of you. Making you cry out, tears blurring your vision again. You could barely make out how swollen and red his cock had grown as he rubbed it up and down your slit.

Jake’s hand came up, wrapping up in your hair again and gripping it tightly. After pumping his cock a few times he gripped your hip and in one thrust he bottomed out inside of you. You let out a scream as your back arched up the bed violently. 

He wasn’t slow in his thrusts. Each one was hard and meaningful. “Open your eyes little one,” you registered the words but your brain was becoming so fuzzy you didn’t obey. Until he slapped, not hard enough to really do any damage, but enough that it had your eyes shooting open. “There are those pretty eyes.” He grunted. 

His fingers dug into your hip so hard you knew he was going to leave bruises. “Want to tell daddy why you were being such a brat tonight?” Jake had leaned forward, his eyes staring into yours.

“A-aphr…fuck!” The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix in a painfully pleasurable way.

“Come on baby girl, spit it out.” Your eyes rolled back into your head when he changed the angle of his thrust just slightly. Just enough to hit your sweet spot.

“J-fuck-je..d-daddy…” you couldn’t even form a sentence right now and he was trying to get you to tell him you were jealous.

“Were you jealous of Aphrodite, baby?”

At first all you could do was nod. “Y-yes!” Jake’s lips met yours in a bruising kiss. His thrusts became a bit more erratic and you could tell he was trying to hold his own orgasm back.

“Thank you for telling daddy,” he hummed against your lips. Then he was pinching your clit and hammering your sweet spot over and over. “You can cum for daddy.”

And cum you did. Hard. Your screams so loud you knew that your throat would be raw come tomorrow, especially with the way he’d fucked your throat earlier. Jake’s orgasm came just a few thrust later. His seed coating your walls as his thrusts slowed down, softly fucking the both of you through your orgasms.

He reached up to undo the belt and as soon as your hands were free you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You didn’t even realize you’d started crying until Jake was cooing at you. “Hey sweet girl, why are you crying? Did I hurt you?” His voice was soft and sweet as he wiped the tears from your eyes.

“No. I’m just…I’m sorry about everything I did at the club.” Your voice was weak, both from screaming and from being vulnerable. “I-I just was so scared that you were going to leave me, because y-you talk about Aphrodite so much and like you w-were smitten.” You sobbed out, burning your head into his chest.

Jake sat up, pulling you into his lap and squeezing you tightly. Gently he lifted your chin so you would look at him. “Baby girl, I could never love anyone the way I love you. I’m so sorry I made you feel that way, but I wish you would have said something first.” He let out a sigh and reached over to the night stand on his side of the bed. 

You watched, trying to calm your sobs from your insecurity finally bubbling up now that the anger had been effectively fucked out of you.

Just when your heart was starting to calm down it picked right back up as your eyes landed on the little velvet box in his hands.

“This wasn’t exactly how I planned on doing this, but I think it’s warranted.” He chuckled and popped open the box. The diamonds in the ring sparkled as the dim light in the bedroom bounced off it.

Another fresh round of tears started streaming down your cheeks as you processed what was happening.

“Sweets, will you marry me?”

You practically tackled him into the headboard with your kiss. Gripping onto him so tightly, like this was all a dream and you’d wake up as soon as you let go.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He chuckled breathlessly when you finally pulled away.

“Absolutely, Aphrodite can suck it.”

“Sweets, I think she’d rather steal you from me than steal me from you.” Jake let out a loud laugh as he watched the realization cross your face in the form of a crimson blush.

You smacked his bicep, staring at him incredulously. “You couldn’t have told me that before I danced with that cretin at the club?!”

Jake flinched back from you, rubbing the spit you’d hit. “Well it wasn’t like you gave me a chance!” 

You groaned and let yourself fall back on the bed, your messy hair splaying around you like halo. Jake chuckled as he picked you, bridal style this time. “Come on, let’s go take a warm bath, fiancée.”

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The long awaited smut, here you go baby girls

@topguncortez

@sebsxphia

@paigewinchester67

[rosesradio]

Piper’s Magic Shoes 🪄

prompt from @kazperthegh0st

word count: 766

When Jason heard laughter coming from the Aphrodite cabin, he couldn’t be sure what to expect. Even though Piper had been working on reforms, the source of the Aphrodite camper’s amusement could be any unfortunate soul that wore the “wrong” outfit that day.

Although the last thing Jason needed was to be made fun of, he also knew Piper and Leo were in there. Bracing himself, he knocked on the door.

The door shakily opened, and Jason was greeted by Leo, wobbling uncertainly as he donned—Jason looked down—high heels. Not just any high heels; these were black, sleek, and at least six inches tall.

At this height, despite the wobbling, Jason had to look up to meet Leo’s eyes.

Oh.

“Hey, Jason!” Leo greeted, his smile wide and infectious. “Check these out—magic shoes! Piper got them from her mom.”

Jason stepped into the cabin and shut the door behind him. He glanced over at Piper curiously, and she added: “I’d complain, but they change into literally any shoe and fit perfectly. It’s…surprisingly practical, considering the sender.”

“Any shoe,” Jason echoed, furrowing his brows at the heels. “I’m surprised you’re not going for boots, then, Leo.”

Leo shrugged. “I have boots, I was just testing these out. Besides, it’s pretty cool, me being taller than you for a change, see?” His brows furrowed in concentration for a moment, and the heels grew an additional inch.

“You’re gonna fall on your face, Leo,” Piper pointed out helpfully.

Leo waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, ye of little confi—“ at that moment, he wobbled a little too far to the right and slipped, letting out a yelp as he started to fall.

His battle reflexes kicking in, Jason swooped in and caught Leo, his heart pounding up into his throat at how close Leo was to the ground.

“Whoa,” Leo breathed out a laugh, though his eyes lit up with genuine astonishment as he grasped Jason’s biceps. “That was so quick, thank you…but at least take me to dinner before you start dippin’ me like this, Grace.”

“Oh, uh…uh-huh…” Jason muttered, helping Leo to a stand, though he couldn’t help but look into Leo’s eyes. It was easier to see the dark outline and short wings across his eyelids when Leo lowered the safety hazard that was the heels to a comfortable two inches. “You…” Jason had never had such a hard time with words before. “Your eyes…they look different…”

Leo scratched the back of his neck, glancing towards the window to avoid Jason’s gaze. That didn’t help the matter; when the sun hit his eyes just right, they lit up a perfect dark amber.

“It’s, uh…eyeliner,” Leo shrugged, clearly trying to play nonchalant as he crossed his arms. He met his eyes again, unable to hide his slight worry. “Piper did it for me—wouldn’t let me play with the shoes unless I let her do something. Um…what do you think…?”

Jason could tell the fragility of the moment. Leo was often insecure, and Jason had no problem reassuring him. But he had to do it quick instead of ogling at him like a fish out of water.

“It’s,” Jason managed, his heart pounding, heat rushing to his cheeks. “Pretty. Really pretty…it makes the color…it’s cool…” he concluded cohesively, looking over at Piper.

Jason had never confirmed her suspicions about his crush on Leo, but based on the look he gave her now, he was essentially waving a giant white flag. Based on the smug look she shot right back at him, his signal was received loud and clear.

“You know, Leo,” Piper spoke up. “You should keep the eyeliner on for the movie tonight. It’s too bad I agreed to share a blanket with Annabeth, though…I guess that means you two are on your own…?”

Leo hummed in thought before nodding. “Guess so. So, you’ll be at the amphitheater at seven?” He asked Jason.

Jason nodded. Then, with more adrenaline than he’d ever had for a flight attempt, he replied. “Guess it’s a date, then.”

His heart felt as if it had been jolted by lightning conducted in his own hands.

Leo, to Jason’s great relief, beamed at that—and was Jason seeing things, or did some color rise in his cheeks? “Guess it’s a date, Superman. See you then.”

“Cool,” Jason’s voice was an octave higher than he was used to, though he was smiling all the same. With that, he turned and started out of the cabin. Nothing could wipe the dreamy smile off of Jason’s face, not even when he hit the doorway on the way out.

[seafoamaphrodite]

Aphrodite reminds me of…

cinnamon

summer rain

the smell of freshly baked cookies

white roses

geese in flight

the feeling you get from your first kiss

peonies

dark chocolate

rich, buttery foods

the jingling of bells

light, gauzy fabrics

pink salt

lipstick prints

a warm hug

a delicious meal

napping in the sunshine

🐚🩷💌🌹🕊️🌊💋☀️