#achilles my love you can’t just say that

[spineless-lobster]

“He is a god, but he is just a god.” Thems fightin’ words coming from a guy who lost to a river

[a2006love]

god's strongest soldiers are those shifters who script that excruciatingly long slow burn.

your patience? your sheer will? your resilience? your unshakeable foot setting earth beneath your feet as if you're achilles incarnate? your steady hands holding onto what you want and only that, your courage? to look the person who haunts your lungs in the eyes and just let them be? to sit at the edge of eagerness, cradling your fingertips, and say, "no, i want to let it brew, twist, and coil with yearning, passion, and longing, changing the very particles of this potion that is love, becoming a vine that wraps itself around my soul, so that when it finally blooms, it will be nothing short of violent, raw, and real." (you wicked witch!!!!) your certainty? that time will weave what you need, even when you can’t see the different textures and colors of the threads, nor when time decides that now is the moment it's done with it's most gloriest piece, that is you and your lover? your absolute surrender, to let it all unravel at an unknown pace, trusting that it will happen anyway?

i salute you.

[hrrtshape]

welcome to the shifting seance club.

sit down… sit down. the spirits are restless. the stars are watching, no, really, they’re watching

AHEM. before we begin, a moment of academic posturing: the knowledge i am about to bestow upon you has been extracted from highly esteemed sources that i recommend for any astrologers, such as . . . ୨୧

" esoteric astrology " by alice a. bailey " the astrology of fate " by liz greene " saturn : a new look at an old devil " by liz greene " hellenistic astrology : the study of fate and fortune " by chris brennan

i have consulted the planets, shuffled the tarot deck, knocked three times on my bedroom wall for dramatic effect, and this is what i’ve learned: your zodiac sign is not just a fun little personality badge. it directly affects your shifting progress. yes (probably not, take this with any amount of salt you want). the stars have opinions, and unfortunately, some of them are a little direct.

 　　. . . now, let’s see what they say about you

◞ aries.

omen :  a door creaks open, but you keep kicking it instead of walking through. fate’s verdict :  you shift like a battering ram. you don’t manifest, you threaten reality into submission. and while your raw passion is admirable, your achilles' heel is your impatience. you expect instant results, and if they don’t arrive, you throw a cosmic tantrum. ꒰ prescription :  you need to trick yourself into believing you don’t care about shifting. the second you release your vice grip on the universe’s neck, you’ll wake up where you belong.

◞ taurus.

omen :  you stand at the threshold, hesitating, asking if this is “scientifically sound.” fate’s verdict :  you are so rooted in your cr that shifting feels like a betrayal. you crave comfort and certainty, and the unknown? ew. gross. messy. you convince yourself that if you can’t prove it, it must not be real. but !! shifting isn’t a scientific formula. it’s a love letter to possibility. ꒰ prescription :  romance the shift. bathe in it. treat it like a luxurious silk robe that’s already draped over your shoulders. you are already there.

◞ gemini.

omen :  the stars whisper secrets, but you’re too busy checking your notifications. fate’s verdict :  you woke up in your dr. except, oh, look!! a new shifting method!! and a podcast!! and a theory!! you scatter your energy across 300 ideas instead of committing to one. your brain is a quantum supercomputer; your attention span is a broken hourglass. ꒰ prescription :  pick one method and pretend it’s the only method in existence. burn the rest (metaphorically).

◞ cancer.

omen :   a single tear falls onto your dr script. it smudges the ink. fate’s verdict :  you shift best to your dr when you feel your dr in your soul. but your achilles' heel? your attachment to your cr. you romanticise your struggles, like a poet in the 1800s dying of heartbreak in a candlelit attic. ꒰ prescription :  detach. your dr is not a dream. it’s your next home.

◞ leo.

omen :  you envision your dr shift as an oscar-worthy transformation scene. fate’s verdict :  you don’t just want to shift. you want the most cinematic shift of all time. you crave grandeur, orchestral scores, confetti. but reality doesn’t need a standing ovation to be real. ꒰ prescription :  simplicity is your secret weapon. the most powerful magic happens in silence.

◞ virgo.

omen :  a stack of perfectly organised dr notes, rewritten for the third time. fate’s verdict :  you think if you can perfect shifting, it will work. you treat scripting like it’s a final dissertation. but guess what??? the universe doesn’t care about syntax. it just wants you to believe. ꒰ prescription :  trust yourself. shifting isn’t a rubik’s cube. it’s a freefall.

◞ libra.

omen :  the scales tip back and forth. you can’t decide which dr to enter. fate’s verdict :  indecision is your kryptonite. you treat shifting like a multiple-choice quiz instead of a choose-your-own-adventure novel. ꒰ prescription :  just pick. you can always pivot later.

◞ scorpio.

omen :  shadows shift in the candlelight. fate’s verdict :  you want power over shifting. you want to dominate reality. but shifting isn’t a chess game. it’s a trust fall. ꒰ prescription :  surrender. let go. let the shift take you instead of trying to own it.

◞ sagittarius.

omen :  your suitcase is always packed. fate’s verdict :  you see shifting as a trip, not a home.  ꒰ prescription :  commit. sink in. stop treating your dr like a fictional destination.

◞ capricorn.

omen :   a mountain looms in the distance. you start climbing. fate’s verdict :  you work too hard. you think shifting should be earned, like a salary. ꒰ prescription :  stop treating shifting like a job interview. you don’t have to prove yourself to the quantum field.

◞ aquarius.

omen :  a thousand ideas flicker in your mind at once. fate’s verdict :  you overcomplicate shifting with theories instead of doing it. ꒰ prescription :  stop analysing. start experiencing.

◞ pisces.

omen :  you already live in your dr. just not physically. fate’s verdict :  you dissociate instead of directing. ꒰ prescription :  channel your daydreams into intention. be the river, not the mist.

the stars have spoken . . . will you listen?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

like this, you feel a little like a lamb laid at an altar.

wrapped up in shimmering silk, a heavy sash tied around your waist, not loose enough to slip, not tight enough to beget discomfort — layers upon layers, a pure-white, nearly translucent shawl draped around your shoulders, jeweled pins gleaming between your locks like shells under water. a pile of molten rubies. the fabric weighs heavy on your bones; were you not sitting with your knees against the floor, you might have found it difficult to keep them from buckling.

but you are. seated on the elevated flooring in one of his temple’s chambers, wearing robes that suguru dolled you up with himself; reverent, in doing so, the very point of this occasion. or so he says.

biting at the inside of your cheek, you withhold a sigh. when he said he had a surprise for you, wearing such a blinding smile, looking so pleased with himself — well, you weren’t really expecting this.

(then again, that glint in his eye has never been a particularly good sign.)

and now you’re… exposed, for lack of better words. 

the centre of attention.

suguru’s voice echoes throughout the room, laced with intention, heavy charisma. low and commanding.

”worship your god,” he almost seethes, but you can tell he’s putting effort into keeping his vocal chords smooth, in maintaining his composure. ”worship them properly.”

before him, on the flooring just below you both, are rows of people in dogeza, tucked in on themselves, bowing deeply. his congregation, gathered just for you. murmuring, under their breaths, their foreheads nearly smushed against wooden flooring, a quiet whirlwind of whispers seeping in through the gaps. praiseful lulls, recited scriptures, pure worship.

… it’s an odd sight, if anything. you can’t help but squirm, discomfort gnawing at your bones. 

suguru seems to notice, because he speaks up.

”… are they not to your liking, my love?” he asks, curious, coaxing, syrupy sweetness on the tip of his tongue. his voice is so soft, when he speaks to you, it almost makes you feel at ease with the audience before you. he crouches down in front of you, bangs swaying idly. ”should they bow deeper…?”

an inhale of air. the room smells of incense, weighing on your veins, making you sleepy. ”n-no, it’s just —” you stammer, gnawing at your bottom lip, senses finding solace in the scent of lilies and magnolias on your robes. ”i feel a little… out of place?”

a hum, buzzing at the base of his throat. then, a raspy chuckle. ”… you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

suddenly, he’s bowing too — leaning forward, until his forehead nearly meets the floorboards, hands planted firmly against them. so handsome, from this angle, the bridge of his nose catching a glint of light from the lamp above him. glancing up at you, with a smile that only makes your heartbeat sputter further. 

he curls a hand around your leg; slipping his fingers under the fabric, until your ankle is exposed. slowly, tenderly, he noses at the spot, angles his face to press a kiss there. a whispered lull of his tongue.

”this is the treatment you deserve.”

your breath hitches, in the back of your throat. feeling his warm lips on your bare skin, against such a vulnerable spot, just below your sensitive achilles tendon. despite his calm demeanor, his soothing voice, your nerves are roused — eyes darting to the rows of men and women on the floor, still kneeling dutifully. they aren’t looking at you, diligent in their murmuring, their silent prayers, but you still feel so thoroughly exposed, like they’re seeing something that should be for the two of you alone — suddenly suguru’s lips are moving, as if he’s intent on worshipping every inch of you, and —

”s-sugu—” you squeak, scooting away, gaze shying from his own — a hushed whisper spilling from your parted lips. ”i don’t want them here.”

… that gets his attention.

honeyed, amber eyes suddenly harden. a crack down a frost-slicked lake, a sudden drop in temperature. it’s as if a switch is flicked; his face settling into firm lines, left eyebrow giving way to a twitch.

and he stands up. sharp, low-lit eyes gazing down at his congregation with a tight-knit expression.

”out,” he orders, a razor’s cut of his tongue. ”at once.”

a voice as clear as the toll of a bell, hiding no intention. it rings out from the depths of his throat, echoes behind his teeth and above the gathering of people at his feet. cold and jarring. even you aren’t entirely unaffected by the dominance he exudes, like this; you count yourself lucky to never be at the other end of it, to always be met with the sun’s glow and not the sting. the room goes eerily silent.

before you can blink, his followers are dispersing, like a flock of ravens — or a group of cornered mice — rising to their feet, and leaving the room. scattering away, though not before bowing once more.

you exhale, in relief. 

it’s easier to breathe, when it’s just the two of you. even though the incense makes your eyelids heavy.

”forgive me, my darling,” comes his voice, as he crouches down to meet you at eye level again, cradling your face with both hands; gaze warm and slick with sweetness, lips meeting yours for a kiss. 

a cube of ice against a furnace. you melt into his touch. 

”i don’t know what i was thinking,” he clicks his tongue, voice sinking an octave — you can taste the bitter hints of his displeasure even when he pulls away. ”making you watch those bugs prostrate themselves. no, that just won’t do…”

regret clouds his sunsoaked eyes, smudges them at the corners. coal on soft linen. he looks beautiful, like this — silky, raven locks like a river flowing down his shoulders, eyebrows furrowed and lips dipping out into the slightest frown. a pleasant storm, in his expression, the way he sculptures himself for only you to see — but then the warmth, his hands against your face, thumbs rubbing at your cheekbones. you picture him plucking apples from an orchard and feeding them to you, slice by dutiful slice. 

”i-it’s okay.” another kiss, in between your words. as if he’s still apologizing. ”i appreciate the thought, but… i don’t need to be worshipped, you know?”

a sudden silence.

(a familiar glint, in his golden eyes.)

the corners of his lips heave themselves up, like the branches of a ginkgo tree. his voice is ripe with mirth. 

”… oh, but you do.”

before you can figure out what that look even means — his heavy hands are slipping down, down, and he’s leaning forward to press his lips against the fabric of your robes, a kiss above your breast. your heart.

then he’s pulling away. standing up, leaving you blinking, a fawn in front of a chain-link fence. 

suguru steps down, the soles of his sandals meeting the flooring in front of you, his broad figure taking up the empty spot his followers left behind. with practiced ease, an elegance you cannot help but watch in mesmerized silence, he bows —

deeply, knees hitting the floor. hands clasped together in silent prayer.

and then he smiles, again. 

a shaky breath leaves your lips. his hand reaches forward, slithers around your ankle, fingers curling around your foot and coaxing it forward until your leg is ghosting against his broad thigh. you can only blink, feeling the pumping of your heart just beneath your throat, warmth blooming from the tips of your ears to the fat of your cheeks. he kisses your ankle, as if picking up where he left off — and meets your flustered gaze with nothing but sunlight.

molten lava. heat. 

(reverence, reverence, reverence.)

”well, then,” he breathes, eyes glinting under dim lights. ”allow me to worship you properly.”

[dollishmehrayan]

# BATBOYS WITH A CLASSIC LITERATURE LOVER ── .✦ ( batboys with a s/o who loves/majors in literature )

a/n: this is requested by my amazing @kvfkas 🫶💕, I Lowkey for some reason also love literature too but like it’s hard for me to open a new book because I’m like so busy almost everyday but anywayss && I still can’t get over that one of my record players BROKE. So I can’t play my vinyls until I buy a new one which I ordered yesterday. Tags: (batboys x classic literature lover)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

Dick thinks it’s adorable how much you love classic literature. He often finds you curled up with a book that looks like it’s been through several lifetimes, the pages dog-eared and filled with your meticulous annotations.

He loves watching you get animated when you talk about your favorite books, even if he sometimes gets lost when you start referencing ancient Greek tragedies or 19th-century poetry.

“Wait, so you’re saying Achilles was in love with Patroclus? Why didn’t they just say that in school?”

If you major in classics, Dick would try to support you by attending your lectures or even helping you prep for exams. He’d quiz you on authors and historical contexts, even if he can barely pronounce some of the names.

Romantic Moments: On your birthday, he surprises you with a first edition copy of your favorite book, complete with a handwritten note tucked inside the front cover. “I don’t understand half of what’s in this book, but I know it makes you happy, so that’s all that matters.”

He’d ask you to read to him sometimes, enjoying the sound of your voice as much as the words themselves. "You make these stories sound even better, you know that?"

JASON TODD ── .✦

Jason is completely enamored with how passionate you are about classic literature. He gets it; books saved his life, too.

He finds your annotations fascinating and sometimes steals your books to read through them, not just for the story, but to get a glimpse into how your mind works.

“You think Heathcliff is a terrible person, but you still love him? Explain that one to me.” He’d genuinely love hearing your reasoning, even if it ends in a spirited debate.

If you’re majoring in classics, Jason would definitely tease you about it: “So, what, you’re gonna be the next Indiana Jones but with books?” But deep down, he’s incredibly proud of you. (He has dreams of being a literature professor)

Romantic Moments: One day, he surprises you with a day trip to a small, dusty bookstore he found, knowing it’s exactly your kind of place. “Take your time. I’ve got all day,” he says, leaning against a shelf as you lose yourself in the aisles.

He’d also write little notes on scraps of paper and leave them in your books when you’re not looking: “You’re way cooler than Jane Eyre.” “That’s a lie jason.”

TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Tim would be absolutely in awe of your love for classic literature. He’s a voracious reader himself, so he’d immediately start asking for recommendations.

He’s amazed by how thoughtful and detailed your annotations are. He’ll flip through one of your books and go, “You should publish these. People would pay good money for your insights.”

If you’re majoring in classics, Tim would make it his mission to help you however he can. Need to translate something from Latin or Greek? He’s on it. Got a big paper due? He’ll proofread it for you.

Romantic Moments: On a particularly stressful day, he sets up a cozy reading nook for you, complete with your favorite snacks and a stack of books he thought you’d like. “Figured you could use some time to unwind.”

He’d get into the habit of reading the same books as you so he can discuss them with you. “Okay, but why does everyone hate Tess of the d’Urbervilles? I think she deserved better.”

DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

Damian would find your love of classic literature incredibly admirable. He appreciates intellectual pursuits and sees your passion as a sign of your depth and intelligence.

He’d be the one to challenge your opinions on certain characters or themes, sparking debates that sometimes last for hours.

“I fail to see why Mr. Darcy is considered romantic. He was insufferable for most of the novel.” But he secretly loves how animated you get defending your point.

(I’m gonna age him up for this one NO NSFW THOUGH HE’S STILL A MINOR BUT JUST FOR THE SAKE OF MAJORS) If you’re majoring in classics, Damian would take great pride in your academic achievements. He’d even start reading some of the books you mention, just so he can keep up with you.

Romantic Moments: He’d commission a custom leather-bound edition of your favorite book, embossed with your initials on the cover. “For someone as remarkable as you, only the finest will suffice.”

He’d also secretly annotate one of the books you’ve been wanting him to read and leave it for you to find. His notes are sharp, insightful, and, of course, slightly snarky.

BRUCE WAYNE ── .✦

Bruce has always been a lover of knowledge, so he’d find your love for classic literature incredibly endearing.

He’d be genuinely impressed by your annotations and sometimes ask to borrow your books just to see your thoughts on them.

“You’ve given me a new perspective on The Great Gatsby,” he’d say after flipping through your copy.

If you’re majoring in classics, Bruce would offer to fund any research or study trips you need. “A visit to Greece would certainly enhance your studies. Consider it an investment.”

Romantic Moments: He’d host a quiet evening in the Wayne library, just for the two of you. The fireplace crackles softly as you sit side by side, reading and sharing passages that resonate with you.

He’d also make a habit of surprising you with rare editions of your favorite books, each one more breathtaking than the last.

[i-am-just-a-slut-for-simon-riley]

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆ 18+ MDNI (ಡ‸ಡ) ୧ ‧₊˚ 🍓 ⋅ ☆

Why are my ✨smut rotten senses✨telling me that Simon Riley is an absolute menace to his plus-sized gf!reader🫢 like girl- he can’t get enough … man is like a teething puppy with a chew toy, you best believe you’d be covered head to toe in love bites.

He can’t explain it but there is this primal satisfaction he derives in watching his pretty little girl squirm and wither under him as his teeth sinks down breaking flesh, indenting the smooth surface with a feral bloody mark, his tongue following soon behind to soothe the dull ache...he can’t help it Lovie! He just needs to let the world know that you’re his to claim and pamper 😩🤚🏻

OH! And do not get me started on how he treats you like play dough, his calloused scarred hands are gigantic and rough and they are on your body ALL the time !!! 🙄 most times it’s not even sexual, he just wants to squish you as you squeal like some squeaky toy (it’s not his fault you have most adorable reactions¯\_(ツ)_/¯), your chubby arms, plush thighs, flushed cheeks, soft tits and ass.. ABSOLUTELY NO part of you is safe from his wandering hands and sharp teeth… (he’s just a big old grumpy man in love …awww🥺)

( ps.. I headcanon him as a basic bitch - so I consider ✨💅🏻pretty boy simon 💅🏻✨to be obsessed and I mean OBSESSED!! with your soft tits… needless to say they are his Achilles heel.. don’t believe me ? The big brute of a man melts into a puddle if you flash him , seeing your tits just turns him head empty (and I mean ✨zero thoughts✨- ask him his name at that moment and he’d go ‘boobies’… he really be dumb like that)… you always end up reverting him into some hormonal teen humping air seeing tits for the very first time.. )

But don’t mistake that as him getting tamed , he’s not nice about how he treats your tits, once his lips seals tightly around one of your stiff peaks, he sucked hard, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud as he groans and slobbers like a fucking animal, he would never dare neglect your other tit though as his hand comes up to knead and squeeze the soft flesh, plucking and tugging at your nipple as he pleasures himself on your perfect fucking body. (it doesn’t help that he is practically a mountain of muscles and oozes dominance without even trying so any plans of escaping him when he pins you down and latches his greedy mouth onto your sensitive little nipple is pointless - (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞just fyi …)

(not to mention!!- he is pathetically needy when it comes to you sitting on his face… he didn’t become a soldier for nothing, dying a martyr’s death was always a looming possibility .. but the only death acceptable to Simon was being suffocated between your plush thighs as they squeeze around his head , his hands shamelessly gripping your ass forcing you to grind down on his face as his nose nudges your swollen clit , tongue lapping at your trembling folds , drinking your sweet nectar down like it was ambrosia as his stubble prickles and rubs your skin red and raw -)

(Protesting is useless so don’t ever try ….uwu ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ )

[eelhound]

"I think Homer outwits most writers who have written on the War [fantasy archetype], by not taking sides.

The Trojan war is not and you cannot make it be the War of Good vs. Evil. It’s just a war, a wasteful, useless, needless, stupid, protracted, cruel mess full of individual acts of courage, cowardice, nobility, betrayal, limb-hacking-off, and disembowelment. Homer was a Greek and might have been partial to the Greek side, but he had a sense of justice or balance that seems characteristically Greek — maybe his people learned a good deal of it from him? His impartiality is far from dispassionate; the story is a torrent of passionate actions, generous, despicable, magnificent, trivial. But it is unprejudiced. It isn’t Satan vs. Angels. It isn’t Holy Warriors vs. Infidels. It isn’t hobbits vs. orcs. It’s just people vs. people.

Of course you can take sides, and almost everybody does. I try not to, but it’s no use; I just like the Trojans better than the Greeks. But Homer truly doesn’t take sides, and so he permits the story to be tragic. By tragedy, mind and soul are grieved, enlarged, and exalted.

Whether war itself can rise to tragedy, can enlarge and exalt the soul, I leave to those who have been more immediately part of a war than I have. I think some believe that it can, and might say that the opportunity for heroism and tragedy justifies war. I don’t know; all I know is what a poem about a war can do. In any case, war is something human beings do and show no signs of stopping doing, and so it may be less important to condemn it or to justify it than to be able to perceive it as tragic.

But once you take sides, you have lost that ability.

Is it our dominant religion that makes us want war to be between the good guys and the bad guys?

In the War of Good vs. Evil there can be divine or supernal justice but not human tragedy. It is by definition, technically, comic (as in The Divine Comedy): the good guys win. It has a happy ending. If the bad guys beat the good guys, unhappy ending, that’s mere reversal, flip side of the same coin. The author is not impartial. Dystopia is not tragedy.

Milton, a Christian, had to take sides, and couldn’t avoid comedy. He could approach tragedy only by making Evil, in the person of Lucifer, grand, heroic, and even sympathetic — which is faking it. He faked it very well.

Maybe it’s not only Christian habits of thought but the difficulty we all have in growing up that makes us insist justice must favor the good.

After all, 'Let the best man win' doesn’t mean the good man will win. It means, 'This will be a fair fight, no prejudice, no interference — so the best fighter will win it.' If the treacherous bully fairly defeats the nice guy, the treacherous bully is declared champion. This is justice. But it’s the kind of justice that children can’t bear. They rage against it. It’s not fair!

But if children never learn to bear it, they can’t go on to learn that a victory or a defeat in battle, or in any competition other than a purely moral one (whatever that might be), has nothing to do with who is morally better.

Might does not make right — right?

Therefore right does not make might. Right?

But we want it to. 'My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure.'

If we insist that in the real world the ultimate victor must be the good guy, we’ve sacrificed right to might. (That’s what History does after most wars, when it applauds the victors for their superior virtue as well as their superior firepower.) If we falsify the terms of the competition, handicapping it, so that the good guys may lose the battle but always win the war, we’ve left the real world, we’re in fantasy land — wishful thinking country.

Homer didn’t do wishful thinking.

Homer’s Achilles is a disobedient officer, a sulky, self-pitying teenager who gets his nose out of joint and won’t fight for his own side. A sign that Achilles might grow up someday, if given time, is his love for his friend Patroclus. But his big snit is over a girl he was given to rape but has to give back to his superior officer, which to me rather dims the love story. To me Achilles is not a good guy. But he is a good warrior, a great fighter — even better than the Trojan prime warrior, Hector. Hector is a good guy on any terms — kind husband, kind father, responsible on all counts — a mensch. But right does not make might. Achilles kills him.

The famous Helen plays a quite small part in The Iliad. Because I know that she’ll come through the whole war with not a hair in her blond blow-dry out of place, I see her as opportunistic, immoral, emotionally about as deep as a cookie sheet. But if I believed that the good guys win, that the reward goes to the virtuous, I’d have to see her as an innocent beauty wronged by Fate and saved by the Greeks.

And people do see her that way. Homer lets us each make our own Helen; and so she is immortal.

I don’t know if such nobility of mind (in the sense of the impartial 'noble' gases) is possible to a modern writer of fantasy. Since we have worked so hard to separate History from Fiction, our fantasies are dire warnings, or mere nightmares, or else they are wish fulfillments."

- Ursula K. Le Guin, from No Time to Spare, 2013.

[miroana]

Elite moments in the Odyssey

A curated selection of my favorite details in this silly epic that changed storytelling forever. Homer is hilarious.

- Whenever anyone asks Odysseus where he’s from and he seizes the opportunity to lie continuously for several pages.

- Victims of his elaborate, entirely false backstories include: the cyclops, the suitors, the swineherd, the goddess Athena (who immediately calls bull), his son, his wife, and his father. Odysseus just loves lying

- Every time Athena makes Odysseus hotter and taller so he can rizz someone up

- His brilliant strategy to survive Charybdis’ whirlpool (cling to fig tree “like a bat”)

- When Telemachus casually drops that he is well aware that Mentor is actually Athena and she pretends not to hear and continues to act like she’s just some guy

- When Odysseus falls asleep while the Phoenicians give him a lift home, and instead of waking him when they reach Ithaca, the sailors just pick up the corners of his blankets to dump him on the shore and leave

- Odysseus subsequently waking on a random beach and spending several pages violently confused until Athena, slapping her forehead, has to appear to tell him what’s going on

- Penelope’s weaving and unweaving of the tapestry to get out of marrying the suitors. it’s so stupid that it’s brilliant

- When Odysseus goes to the land of the dead and Achilles and Patroclus appear together <3

- That time Odysseus and Athena sit down on a rock together to plot and scheme etc

- When the maid who raised Odysseus recognizes the gigantic scar he used to always brag about and he grabs her by the neck and tells her to shut the hell up. Elegant elegant man

- Odysseus’s dog who stayed alive for over 20 years so he could lay eyes on him before dying on the spot

- Every time someone says bro you’re kind of hot for a beggar and Odysseus says yeah I know right?

- When Circe was like oh dude I can’t kill you? Guess I’ll sleep with you

- “‘You bitch!’ retorted the ready-witted Odysseus”

- Penelope later calls this maid a bitch too

- When Odysseus avoids competing in the Phoenician games until one of the Phoenicians calls him weak and lazy. so he thoroughly wipes the floor with them

- The sheer number of boats Odysseus crashed

- The sheer number of times Odysseus started sobbing in public

- When one of the Suitors smacks beggar Odysseus with a stool and it takes everything in him to not go insane on them

- Every time Odysseus anonymously gasses Odysseus up

- And last, but not in any way least, the Trojan horse plan. We all know it. We all love it. But take a step back and think for a moment how delightfully absurd it is

[gangplanksorenji]

Kinknuary Day 17: Brat Taming 

Pairing: Choi Yena x Male Reader

Word Count: 5,832

[Kinknuary Masterlist]

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You can’t always get what she wants and she can’t always get what she needs—these two clauses never contradict as it's different in each way yet aimed towards the same intent: fulfillment.

Choi Yena is a girl you’d watch yourself into, as she’s the living definition of a brat, in your own words. Not really a specific brat, but she really tends to be selfish all of the time, and that isn’t really ideal considering how you’re always making her change but always ends up defeated and your advances deemed to be useless against her.

She has an iron wall that’s tough to break, but under specific circumstances, there’s always the Achilles’ heel to be used against it.

“Well, this sucks…” Yena chides boredom, sighing deeply as she’s deeply restive within the supposedly delicious food in front of the table and with her discontented countenance, you advance to confront her as you’re confused on why she’s acting like this.

“Don’t like the food, princess?”

“Nu-uh. It’s bland and soggy—look!” Yena grabs a minuscule sample of spaghetti with her fork, presenting how incredibly unacceptable it is on her own perspective as she voices out her frustration with it, and you, absolutely stunned with her complaints as you don’t see anything wrong with the food presented.

“Oh yeah, I forgot—should’ve treated you to eat some gold, huh?” You batted out a joke towards her, in which she took it a little seriously, punching your shoulder playfully as her pouts emanated such strong channels of chagrin, not satisfied with the meal she’s been supposedly enjoying.

“Yah! I’m not like that, but I’d like to eat something way better than this…”

Of course, she’ll be luring you into another set of her tricks, opting for you to fall down of her trap but with two years and a half of being with her, you knew exactly what she’s up to for you to fulfill her wants. You read her mind like a book but of course, you’ll choose to play along with her game to bait her and let her be the victim of her own medicine.

“Like what?” You feign such fake innocence, in which Yena takes as an opportunity to voice out her naughty desires and just like that, she stepped into your trap.

“Like daddy’s—” You tighten the grip of her wrists under the table, making her wince in pain as you stop her from her advances of such dirty talk in public.

“You know what Yena, just eat your goddamn food and we’ll get out of here, okay?” You grew impatient with her own antics, making her opt to the possible endgame before the anticipated climax soon.

“But I don’t like it! I don’t like it!” Yena whimpered as she didn't like the words that came out of your mouth and knowing that you’re setting her up to further make her miserable, she stepped up and voiced out her frustrations towards you and you’re not absolutely having it. “I won’t bother finishing these—”

“Alright then, Yena…” You averted your attention onto finishing the food on your plate as your demeanor became stern and commanding and Yena’s face suddenly feigned fear and anxiety, not wanting what may happen next. “It’s just fair to not reward my princess something if she didn’t finish her food.”

Yes, you read her like a goddamn book and guess what, it’s working more than well. Knowing how insatiable you are for her that can’t bear to not be rewarded with your load for a day says a lot, and she’s willing to do everything just to get that desired prize of hers that you would love to use as an advantage against her—Yena’s kryptonite that will flick a switch inside her, making her reevaluate her own selfish decisions.

“Okay then, daddy…”

Well, if she’s willing to provoke the sleeping beast inside you, then you’ll let her, because at the end of the day, you know that she’ll regret it and will absolutely be damned to be punished and used, like the slutty brat she always became, all for you.

---

Royalties and class, two things that exude Yena as every movement of hers is either sophisticated, intense disgust or her own primal needs taking over her. Limited choices yet it doesn’t matter, because it will revolved around that and it will never change—maybe when you’ve fucked something out of her, then maybe the stars will re-align but chances would be slim to none.

There’s no fucking chance in this planet she’ll be able to make others bear her bitchy, bratty attitude and you are the only worthy to handle her as you know exactly how to make her be yours and to tame that living beast inside her, even if it means to do the nastiest things to her.

Well, that won’t be the case for now but knowing how she’s luring you into a challenge, really makes everything inside you be in that state of fury as her words captivate you and turn you on, and it’s damn dangerous to be this riled while driving on a high-speed highway.

Guess the feelings are mutual between the both of you; she can pick the locks inside you as much as you can with hers, and it’s not even close to exert much effort.

“Yena, you know we can’t—not here, princess, alright?” You peacefully pointed out how risky and not suitable for you to really do this, let alone doing such a sinful act on a highway even though it’s just the both of you that will be blessed by the sight.

Not really surprised about her responsive actions of your denial, and you’d love to see that knowing how her frustration and the needy sounds she makes sends you into a state of delight. “Come on, daddy! You’re no fun!”

Yena pouts as she faces you, frustrated with your own selfish acts of your definition of fun as she crosses her arms right after, letting you know how she seriously wants this.

“If you want us to crash because of your selfish needs to blow my dick, then sure, Yena.” With your encouraging words with sarcasm laced on it, Yena faced you with a glare as you can see it evident on your peripherals. As much as you don’t want to, you might just give it a shot and to maybe even risk your life in terms of a pleasurable service and to literally just make Yena shut up with your own length inside her bratty mouth.

“You’re just playing with me, daddy—I know you—”

“Do you want to blow my dick or not? ‘Cause I’m getting pretty impatient, Yena.” You stated, your tone demanding and laced with subtle rage as you continue to drive, unfazed with her own presence that will soon draw onto your own treasured prize and given the green light, she acted up immediately and didn’t waste any of your time. Drawing her attention towards your clothed nether region, her hands then hastily finds its way onto the button of your pants while carefully not hitting anything, and with her subtle touch makes you lose a hint of focus yet you fight it as the last thing you would want to see is crashing on a highway. Carefully unbuttoning your pants and bringing them onto your knees, her eyes lit up in excitement as she can see your member getting erected and that’s all because of her.

“Ooh, getting turned on I see, hm, daddy?” Yena delightfully mocks you as steam comes out of your nose, a bit annoyed with her current antics as there’s no in any planet you would deny how it’s not her fault that you’re getting this hard.

“Then do something about it and don’t kill us, Yena.” She then resumes her advances of undressing your final clothed defense, finally freeing your throbbing length from its prison and she is met with your member, her eyes now lit in awe yet a click of your tongue makes her stop. “Five minutes only.”

Yena whimpers as she looks at you deeply with her signature duck pout, making you rethink your decision as she persuades you with all her might. “Please, can it be longer, daddy? Please, please?”

Even if she bats out her hundred of pleas you will just ignore it as a brat doesn't deserve such reward—she should be grateful instead of complaining but you know that girls like her will be rewarded truly if they earned it, and this is probably just one of the few tests you have in plan.

Guess, you’ll be just the judge while your mind’s focused on driving straight for the both of you to not crash and god, you’re really fighting for it.

Maybe you’ll be the one who’s going to be tested as it’s all deteriorating once she laid her soft lips onto the head of your shaft, as you give in the pleasure yet focus on the highway.

Five minutes—five goddamn minutes.

---

“Kneel down, princess.”

“Yes, daddy…” Yena immediately obliged your command as her face anticipates what you may have in store, her eyes glistening with need and lust that no one can define, maybe not even herself can.

Of course, she won’t be leaving your place without a load dumped inside her or painted on her because of how addicted she is to you and how she’s always a victim of indulging towards her primal desires the second you’re within the vicinity of her sight.

She’s crazy about you as much as you are towards her but Yena’s just on a whole new level—way above the charts of your expectations and it’s not really surprising at this point.

In most terms, she’s always been a pain in the ass the deal with, even with your entire length plunged inside her, she can’t seem to really change her bratty demeanor, like it’s glued onto her by default and it’s bittersweet—bitter in annoyance and sweet because you love taming her, getting the absolute value of each others’ needs.

Even without serving her desired prize on her speedway blowjob earlier, her eyes are still refulgent with anticipation and eagerness—not to mention how she complains so much when her time is up and without a load deep down her throat, completely opposing her current needs for you.

“You better finish what you’ve started earlier alright, princess?” You relax onto the cold, marble wall as Yena nods eagerly, and then advance her way onto your fully-erect length as she eyes it like her favorite meal and with a mischievous smirk planted onto her mouth and her evil eyes, you know exactly how she’ll start this off. You moaned almost inaudibly once her soft, plump lips became in contact with your swollen head and right from the start, her masterclass is absolutely at its peak finest.

Her mouth is one of your treasure features of her, not just by the fact that you could embrace yourself to initiate such a torrid kiss with her but it’s just the fact on how soft they are that it’s just sculpted perfectly to service gratification to you, not even including her sinful gags and the vacuum-like suction that makes up the elements of a mind-boggling blowjob that she always excels at.

Speaking of oral talents, she has it all, and maybe even multiple.

“Keep doing that, princess… Keep t-that mouth all the way in.” Even if it spirals out of control, you’ll be cursed to encourage her ultimately as she takes your whole length slowly, ensuing a leisure bobbing that aims to build up the pleasure and your own libido. 

She didn’t gag, not yet, as she continues to reach new depths, making herself accustomed to your whole length and the inevitable snaps, gagging prematurely as she tried to keep it in without pulling out but was not deemed successful, coughing a little right after her former struggles.

She wouldn’t let herself disappoint you as she grabbed your already saliva-sheathed cock as fast as she could and directed it inside her mouth, blowing you rapidly as her thrusts in quick succession never fails to set yourself on a blissful trance. Her hands find themselves onto the porcelain skin of your thighs, caressing it to voice out how comfortable she is and the other, fondling your sensitive balls in order for better stimulation and better quality of pleasure. Simultaneous gags, drool seeping out of her mouth, tears running down her cheek and her rapid pace lives up tot eh epitome of a blowjob—and she’s cursed to be great at this.cheek and the cherry on top, her rapid pace that adds up to the filthiness of a sinful image she’s been into and god, if you could just take a picture of this, let along record this as a video, you’ll absolutely do it but getting occupied by Yena’s soft lips and tight throat would be just better than anything that can bother you in this world, and you leave it as it is.

Her head frantically bobs like she’s set to hypnotize you as her techniques really live up to her title, every movement she does to stimulate you is making you feel way better than the previous, and it’s really working more than well. She constantly slurps as more drool seeps out of her hungry mouth, also a way to voice out her utter satisfaction with being rewarded with an insatiable candy that she can’t get enough of. Because of her great work between your legs, you dive into the inevitable bliss as your hands find their way to her vibrantly pink locks, grabbing a fistful of it to form a makeshift ponytail in order for you to have such strong leverage to guide her and fight for the utmost gratification.

Of course, she knows what you’ll end up into once she felt your hands on the back of her constantly bobbing head: she could only anticipate it as you hips will gradually thrust into her suffocatingly tight throat, craving for more to the point that you’ll give in and fuck her face rapidly.

She knows you and reads you like a book—again, feelings are mutual, as well as your needs towards each other.

There’s no point in not giving in to using her mouth like a fleshlight, because it’s literally what she’s built for: to take the entirety of your length to the point of no-return and absolutely giving everything you want—what your hips can muster.

“I might need to fuck that bratty mouth of yours princess, you wouldn’t mind it, won’t you?” Your sinister tone makes her apprehensive yet nonetheless, she trusts you with all her might—and you won’t dare to break that—as she nods eagerly, her eyes begging for the absence of your mercy in order to use her mouth with what might you can as she wants it badly. 

“Oh, so you want it this badly, huh?” With her slow bobs, you groan with the pleasure she’s giving yet time wouldn’t be wasted as you grip her hair and make her look up at you, your tone now laced with the utter need of voicing out her primal desires. “Then say how badly you want this, princess”

With more greedy bobs onto your rock-hard shaft, she immediately pulls out as so, and let her lips release such wanton profanities that absolutely will arouse the living beast inside of you. “I w-want you to ram on m-my slutty throat, daddy—”

“How hard, princess?” It was a sudden response, aiming to mutter up an answer escaping her lips on her possible wants of your treatment towards hers.

“Want you t-to fuck my throat like h-how I deserve it…” She trembles between divisible of her own lustful words, the utter nervousness and adrenaline kicking in as she continues stating her needs. “Want t-to feel daddy’s c-cock ramming on my t-throat because of how m-much of a slut I am.”

Good thing she knows what she is and what she came to, at this moment. Given on how sincere she is in every word she says as her tone really pleads you to service her throat, states on how she badly desires her close-to-an-ultimate prize (punishment on you own perspective) and without wasting any second, you opted to give her what she wants and to full indulge to your own carnal desires.

“Okay, princess, hands behind your back—” You command her as you grow impatient with her lustful talks, wanting to make her struggle in the best way possible—also, you would not want to hurt her in the process—and to build up the rising climax of her anticipation. “—and your head up.” Of course, your hands aren’t idle enough to just appreciate the beauty of her waiting to be ruined, as you hands force its way onto the back of her head again yet this time, you grip onto her semi-disheveled pigtails, wanting to use them as handlebars and a leverage on what you're about to do to her—maybe she purposely tied her hair this way, knowing that she’ll maybe get her mouth fucked half open.

If this is what she wants, then she’ll get it but you should let her know why this all started: it’s all because of aiming to tame her properly and if your words can’t do it, then sure, maybe your cock will do the talking.

You don’t even need to command Yena to open her mouth as she does it involuntarily, begging you for more until it was all unable to beared and contained, letting everything but indulged within and you can just see your whole length being submerged into the depths of her mouth, taking more and fully encouraging you to even go deeper. The incredible suction of her cheeks never fails to bewilder you, let alone diving deeper as every inch of her walls results in marvelous groans of pleasure because of the warmth and the right tightness of it. You gave Yena’s mouth few thrusts to get herself used on your whole length again—in a better view, she doesn’t really need that since she’s sucking and getting her mouth used by you very often that it’s started to molded onto the shape of your cock—wanting her to feel every inch of it brushing down her throat as she gags when it hits the back of her throat. She fights it with all her might this time, and when you notice her gag reflex calming down, now’s the time to use the pliant princess’s heavenly throat like how she deserves it.

How does she deserve it? Well, it’s only a matter of time for her to find out.

With now a better feeling from both parties, your hips now ensued such a breakneck pace, catching her off-guard. Yena almost breaks herself free but knowing that if she does, she will be in big trouble and be prone to a worse punishment in which she wouldn’t want to. With that in mind, she fights herself onto your rapid usage of her whole throat as drool inevitably seeps out of her mouth, coating everything in its vicinity with her saliva that further adds to the lubrication with your ruthless advances. You tighten the grip on her hair, causing to add more mess to her already disheveled locks as you continuously rammed her throat like you want to prove something—you don’t need to prove anything but rather, prove herself worthy of your mercy.

“Is this what you fucking wanted, Yena? Your f-face to be fucked like a-an animal?” It’s a rhetorical question but an evident nod ensued right after, noticing it even with your rapid pace trying to open up Yena’s throat as you could find yourself getting harsher with one goal in mind: to tame her and possibly, fuck that brattiness out of her brat mouth.

You didn’t just mindfully thrust your hips like you’re in autopilot, but rather set series of forceful deepthroats, filling every inch of her slutty throat up to the brim, balls-deep and then resuming back onto thrusting—it repeats like a cycle, and that’s part of the plan: foreplay, to be build the suspense and then suddenly go berserk. You playfully tug her hair in order to force her down and then taking your entire length with thrusts ensued on a quick succession, each oscillation hits her saliva-sheathed chin with your own balls as the audible sounds of such skin clapping is arousing you even further.

“Fuck—this bratty throat feels good—can’t wait to even feel more of you, princess—fuck!” You continue to give her ruthless thrusts, breaking the velocity barrier your hips can muster as you pull out of her mouth and not surprisingly, she gasps for heavy breaths and multiple coughs because of your harshness down her throat.

“G-God, daddy—t-that was s-so good—hah, y-you’re going t-to make my throat sore…” Yena muttered between catching breaths and a broken voice, truly making you admire the masterclass you’ve done that she surely loved.

“Of course—need this fucking throat to teach a lesson.”

“A l-lesson? Am I the n-naughtiest student you’ve ever seen, d-daddy?” Yena seduces you with her vixen capabilities and her honey-laced words dripping with lust, and it forces you to sully her again, specifically her mouth.

“You know the answer to that, princess.” Yena looks up with you with a smirk, her mischievous plan starting to come together as she bites her lips and moaned uncontrollably, your hands finding its way on caressing her perky yet voluptuous mounds as you aimed to weaken her until she’s about to be fully submissive. With her hands still on her back, she can’t help herself to fight the pleasure as she can only just whimper and close her eyes, letting the serotonin course down her veins as every second that passes is fully treasured by the bratty princess in front of you.

“I would have used your throat more harshly but bad brats like you don’t deserve to swallow my cum—not even a single ounce of it.” Your hands then palmed her cheek as your fingers caressed it right after, admiring the sullied countenance of Yena’s face that deserves to be at the hall of fame on how it perfectly depicts the oxymoron, “the ruined goddess”.

“Brats need to be punished for being such a bitch and if my words can’t tame you—” Your suspenseful tone is intimidating her, sending chills down her spine as every word you say is laced with sincerity and full on lust. Her mouth shivers when she feels your hand teasing her cheek with your throbbing length, and it’s just becoming better for now considering how you’re building up such a stupendous anticipation that anyone can hook onto, even the both of you. “—then maybe my cock will.” 

You slap your length onto her cheek, making her yelp a little as you command her to stand up, her immediately obliging to your imperative advances, even with a visible struggle because of her lack of balance. 

“Sit here and wait for me, okay? I’ll get something and don’t you dare move away from this position.” You glared at her as she nodded slowly, her mouth curling up onto a smile as her eyes glistened with her own desires, only thinking further of what you may have in store for her.

---

“Wear it, Yena.”

“But don’t I look silly, daddy?”

“Just fucking wear it—it’ll be good on you…” You grow impatient with her complaints as she does what she’s requested to do, as she wears the belt-like leather collar around her neck, her hands trembling probably from her nervousness and there’s nothing to worry about it, knowing it’ll fade faster than the speed of light. With her collar now around her neck, you commanded her to go on all her fours on the bed and again, she quickly obliged, not wanting you to wait any further. Greed consumes over you, finding its way to succumb onto your lustful needs as you line your swollen head within the emanating heat of her lower lips as she moans in every tease you do, fueling up each others’ libido. 

As much as you want to tease the living brat out of her, your aim is to fuck it out of her and you’ll do exactly what you need to.

Not wasting any second, the climax of the show starts as you penetrate her with your whole length and in response, she screams in delight because of how big you are inside her, feeling that you may destroy her guts. You easily fill her up to the hilt, burying your entire shaft inside her and then withdrawing to slam back in hard, making her cry for your mercy and to further fuck her like an animal.

The comeuppance starts, and you’re willing to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget—you may have done this to her a lot of times but this time, it would hit differently and you would end this session making her know who you really are to mess with.

Grateful to the helping aid of lubrication with her juices coursing down, and around your shaft, you start off with a relentless pace and don't give her time to get used to your length, wanting to make her feel your wrath and how she deserves to be treated. She further moans in every withdrawal you do as the collar helps for a better leverage onto ramming into her tight core repeatedly, and as the cherry on top, you like the muffled sounds of her chokes every time you pull the chain of the collar, you could hear her broken moans and probably, even asphyxiating her—one of her kinks is you choking her, and you’re glad to be innovative and creative on fulfilling that and knowing this, Yena appreciates this truly as she voices out to even ruin her further.

“D-Daddy—r-ruin my slu—slut pussy! I d-deserve t—to be treated l-like this—oh gosh���holy fuck!!”

You continuously do as so, and with her repeated pleas, you grew annoyed with her ebullient noises and stated your frustrations towards her. “Just s-shut the fuck up and take my cock well, princess!”

With your further attempts of silencing her with your ramming clashes against her tight pussy, you vent out your frustrations and channel everything onto your thrusts, causing her to repeatedly plead and moan because of your aggressive actions. She wanted this deserves this, so she just deserves to be fucked like a true animal. Her arms grew weaker, unable to support her upper frame due to the constant overloading of pleasure she’s been feeling and wanting to bury her head with her advances, you won’t let a single trick up her sleeve be deemed successful against you as you pulled the collar towards you, making her compose such broken melodies that reverberated around the room, and around your ears.

You can hear her cries in every thrust you do, as it’s all starting to come to the point where she’ll fully succumb to her needs and submissiveness, which is your goal before this steamy session ends. It wasn't long before you gave her round, bubble buttcheeks the hardest spanks it deserves as it became frequent all of a sudden, making her yelp and cry because of your harsh actions against her constantly-rammed backside. With now your hands fully occupied to treat her like the slut she is and like the brat she deserves, Yena can’t help but just think of your cock ravaging her tight, little cunt rapidly as it clouds her, same repeated, wanton moans are the response of your actions and knowing she wouldn’t last long at this time and with her cunt constantly clenching, you double the efforts on fucking her onto oblivion as the lustful drive in you takes over. 

“You’re about to cum, right, Yena?”

She mutters a stuttered “yes” as she nods frantically before resuming her constant moans of pleasure. “But what if I don’t want my princess to cum? Will she not cum for her daddy or will she be punished for good? Because—” You let go of the tight grip on the chains of the leather collar as you inch closely onto her ear and whispered with venom, “—if you didn’t follow me, there will be serious consequences and you won’t like that, won’t you, Yena?”

Yena’s apologetic cries can be heard laced in her agreement, scared that she may provoke you that will make her needs be deprived. “I w-will do anything f-for you, daddy but p-please—-ahh!”

You kiss her nape, and then her neck, showing your affection towards her as you worship the musky scent of her body emanating sweat, perfume and sex as you respond, “Please what, princess?”

It took seconds for Yena to respond, the gratification becoming too much to handle as she composes herself, and pleads for you. “P-Please let me cum, daddy…”

A side of you is fainthearted: wanting to not make herself be lost and want her to engage on her high as much as possible but she needs to be punished, and your conclusion with that? To fully ruin her.

Thanks to the constant lapping of her juices, it didn’t became a struggle to lubricate her puckered hole as you insert your thumb in it, opting to stimulate her further as you continued to fuck her mercilessly. It wouldn’t take long before she reaches her high with of the kinky stuff and the most stimulating advances being done all in one session as she lets out whimpers, and knowing that her high is near and you know it’ll blast like a volcano, you wouldn’t put her to torture as lean in again to her ear and then whispering again, “Then cum on my cock, princess—let it all out.”

Giving her the final thrusts with her collar as a leverage onto a greater quality of such mindless abomination of fucking, she clenched tightly as you groan because of it and within a second, she’s in her own blissful trance, moaning out your name as she voices out her ecstasy.

“D-Don’t s-stop fucking me, d-daddy—oh fuck—I’m c-cumming so h-hard—fuck!!”

As requested by her, you continue ramming her pussy as she climaxes beautifully, voicing out series of ecstatic moans as she forms a rivulet around your shaft, dripping it all over her thighs, your balls and some even on the bed sheets which soon will be changed because of how filthy and messy it would be after the both of you are done. You continue oscillating at such an incredible pace that you didn’t mind making her recover on her high, making her yell in pleasure and utmost sensitivity. With a ruthless pace, of course, you didn’t ignore the chains as you pulled

“Are y-you close, daddy? Please c-cum inside m-me—fuck, p-please, daddy—ahh—mmfh-ahh!”

“Don’t tell me what to do, slut!” Of course, after her ephemeral orgasm, you resume onto your harshness, spanking and fondling her mounds as you draw circles down her taut buds, making her whimper because of the pleasure and sensitivity. You grew frustrated and enough of her bratty actions of eternal need as you choke her a little with the collar, further ramming into her tight cunt repeatedly as her thighs now quiver, her limbs growing weaker and letting herself succumb onto your own spell, hypnotizing her with the rapid sounds of bodies clashing together that adds up to the sea of sinful sounds that’s been kept inside this puny room right from the start.

Now chasing your own orgasm and to further commit onto fucking that living brat out of her body, you gave in to your primal desires, fucking each other like animals as within a few thrusts or seconds from now, it won’t be long until you meet yourself onto the promised land—in the possibly eternal state of bliss.

Now, having enough of the collar, you pull her hair as you draw yourself closer to your own orgasm, wanting to make sure that you’ll have one hell of a climax. You repeatedly spank her to further arouse yourself onto the hypnotizing jiggles of that porcelain flesh, making you indulge and draw yourself onto the red and soon enough, it wouldn’t be that long to meet it.

“I’m going to fucking c-cum in this tight, slutty, bratty pussy, alright, princess? Be sure to take it all because fuck—t-this pussy is literally the best!”

“Yes, da—daddy! Please c-cum in me—finally, p-please—ahh—mmfhh!” You continue your rapid thrusts as your fingers coursed its way onto her mouth, making her suck it as she wantonly savors your fingers like it’s your beloved shaft, sensually licking every inch clean as you buried your whole length in her, unable to pull back but just give in.

Series of thick shots flooded her velvety walls, causing her to moan on your fingers as she can feel the warmth of your semen coating each inch of her flesh white and god, she’s also in a state of bliss on how well she is filled by you. She continues sucking and you continue depositing, even thrusting slowly to extend your orgasm further and as it dies down, you leisurely pulled out—and of course, Yena whimpered because she feels empty without your whole length ravaging inside her—of the tightness of her core, a little exhausted because of your harsh work against her sopping wet cunt and what an incredible sight it bestowed you: her freshly-fucked folds full of your cum, some of it even leaking out of her due to the stupendous amount of volume deposited in it.

Guess her highfalutin came down on a sullied conclusion; it was an incredible display of a steamy session, much likely to be cherished as the once boisterous, sex-filled room has now toned down onto tranquil and silence—mostly just heavy breaths can be heard but it is close on silence.

Yena falls limp onto the bed, her back rests as her lips tremble within her voice, “Y-you c-came so much, daddy—i-it’s so thick a-and warm—hah…”

“Now, are you satisfied, princess?”

“More than t-that, daddy…” Yena voices out her utter satisfaction as her needs are now fulfilled by you and right after, she beams a bright smile onto you which makes you faintly grin in response due to her contagious happiness. 

“Also, I’m s-sorry about acting like that earlier, daddy…” You know her apologies aren’t sincere but at the same time, they are—it’s not sincere in a way that she’ll act like a spoiled brat again someday, but now, you’re glad that you’ve fucked your way to teach her a lesson—living the new, ephemeral disposition of hers that’s down-to-earth. You would treasure this truly, but Yena, on the other hand, isn’t in the same shoes with you.

“I want some more, daddy—we can experiment on anything we want, tonight because—” Yena’s hands averted onto your jaw, making you face her as she continues, “—I’m all yours, daddy.”

Seems like she needed more than what you’ve given her and with that, you’re giving her anything to the point of no-return.

[star-girl69]

The Last Time

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Demigod!Reader

—-

Part One - The Last Time

Part Two - Cowboy Like Me

Part Three - Tomorrow Never Came (coming soon!)

Part Four - Living Legend (coming soon!)

Part Five - Pretty When You Cry (coming soon!)

—-

synopsis: the last night you spend with clarisse before she goes on a quest

a/n: had to put my own take on the clarisse leaving reader behind to go on a quest SORRY Y’ALLLLL this is like devastating fr tho i’m kinda sorry like 😭

The Last Time - Taylor Swift (Feat. Gary Lightbody of Snow Patrol)

warnings: angst, like so much angst i’m gonna say it 5 times, angst angst angst angst angst, angst, hurt comfort and also hurt NO comfort bc i’m evil, kissing, cutesy until it’s not but it never really is, i felt like choosing pain, y’all should start calling me she-devil this is just so mean and evil, swearing, fighting, allusions to death, daddy issues lol, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

June 4, 12:08 PM

It’s a cold summer night. You sneak out of your bed, sheets slipping off of your shaking body, the same memories playing in your mind. It always comes down to this, the nights.

In the dreams, she doesn’t come back to you, and the nights without her are so cold, so lonely, so horrible you can stand it. They’re only in your mind, but they hurt just as bad. It’s not every night you slip into each others beds, but whenever you have a nightmare, you find your way to hers. Whenever she has a nightmare, she finds her way to yours.

You both have nightmares about the same things.

The usual cryptic prophesies, the various monsters you just can’t seem to kill, and losing each other. Demigods die. They die easily. You both know that.

Some people swear off love.

And Clarisse told you she wishes she could, she wishes she could pretend you aren’t her entire heart, but she never had a choice. You are her Achilles heel, her one weakness.

You couldn’t either. You took one look at the beautiful daughter of Ares and never looked back again.

Still, there’s a certain desperation in every demigod relationship. Touches are just a bit tighter, hugs a bit longer. Because you all have lost so much, and you all feel absence heavily. Every time could be the last time.

Your footsteps creek against the porch of the Ares cabin. You open the door only a crack, slipping in silently the way you always do, avoiding the creaky floorboards.

Clarisse is awake in her bed, the corner of the cabin. She’s staring at the moon fiddling with her fingers. You frown, but Clarisse turns to you.

You’re sure you look as wrecked as you feel.

“Oh, baby,” she murmurs. “C’mere, what happened?”

You always ask each other, but you both know.

You crawl towards her, sitting in between her legs, arms around her neck, head pressed to her chest. She holds you up so you don’t have to. You can’t, not right now.

She kisses your forehead and her hand smooths down your hair.

“You went on a quest,” you whisper. You miss the way she stiffens. “You didn’t come back.”

She doesn’t tell you she’s not going on a quest. She doesn’t tell you she’s going to come back.

“I’m here,” she says. “Do you feel my heart? I’m here, and I feel yours. It’s beating so fast, baby, you have to take a deep breath.”

Tears well in your eyes. You dig your nails into her soldiers.

“Oh, Gods, please don’t leave me,” you cry.

She doesn’t tell you she won’t.

“I’m here, I’m here right now. I’m here right now, listen to my heart, baby, listen to my heart.”

Clarisse swallows back the bile in her throat. She tries not to lie to you, she tries. But sometimes, on cold summer nights when you find your way into her bed, and she doubts you’ll remember this in the morning-

“I’ll always be here, Y/N. I’ll always be here.”

—-

June 11, 5:46 PM

If you thought the nights without Clarisse were bad, then the days are even worse. You miss her. You never realized how much she was there, silently, always watching, not until you told her to stay away from you.

You sit at the dinner table, the sun setting. Most of your siblings have left- but you’re here with May, sitting there as she watches you like a hawk and interrogates you.

“You haven’t been the same. Not since, like, last week. And something happened with Clarisse, it’s obvious. I gave you a few days because I thought you were just having a fight, but you’re not.” She sighs and grabs your hands. “What happened?”

“You’ll find out soon enough,” you dismiss. She stares at you with such heartbreak in her eyes.

May is the sibling you’re by far the closest with- you like similar things, and people sometimes think you’re actual full-blooded siblings because you look so alike. She was the first person you ever met at Camp Half Blood, and after Clarisse, she’s the first person you run too. But now that Clarisse is leaving, and she’s already gone, May is all you have left.

You squeeze her hands. Your best friend, you want to tell her, but saying the words aloud makes them real.

She’ll find out tomorrow.

—-

June 8, 10:57 AM

She tells you privately, she smiles softly and leads you into the woods, she holds your hands and touches your face and kisses you like she’s not about to break your heart.

“Why are you bringing me out here?”

You know her like your own mind. You spend so much time with Clarisse, next to her, it’s like you have a window to her heart tattooed on your arm. You know, even when she doesn’t want you to.

“I just have something to tell you. And I wanted privacy.”

She doesn’t tell you it’s not a bad thing.

Your stomach sinks and you hold her hand tighter, and even though she’s about to break your heart she kisses your cheek and squeezes your hand.

“Just you and me, pretty girl. I just wanna talk, okay?”

She leads you to a clearing with a beautiful view of the strawberry fields and you smile, sitting down and letting your face feel the sun. You can feel her looking at you, but the beauty of this place and each other only blinds the two of you temporarily.

“Okay, what do you have to tell me?”

There’s stones in your stomach. Your heart is squeezing, you can physically feel the tension and anticipation in your organs.

You look in her eyes and you pray to every God that it’s nothing.

“I love you, you know that?”

Clarisse never says I love you, and your stomach twists more.

“Of course I know.”

She lays down on her back and opens her arms. She sighs when you lay your arm over her stomach, head on your chest. Her hands grip onto you tight.

She doesn’t speak for another minute, like she’s just soaking you and the sunshine up, like it’s the last she’s ever gonna get.

“Chiron… a week ago, I think, he called me to the Big House.” You hum, staring at the treetops. “Him and Mr. D… they… uh.”

“You can tell me,” you pretend you aren’t scared.

“A quest,” she blurts. “They have a quest for me.”

“Oh,” you mumble, stupidly.

A quest could mean a million different things. It could be an errand for Chiron and Mr. D, or it could be something preordained by the Fates.

She could have a choice or she could not.

“It’s three children of Ares. It’s about some sort of ancient blood feud between my father and- it doesn’t matter. But it- it doesn’t look good-”

You sit up. She follows you, eyes wide, hands splaying around where your body used to be on hers.

“‘It doesn’t look good’? Clarisse, what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

She grabs your hands. “It’s dangerous, like any quest-”

“It’s not like any quest though, is it?”

She presses her lips together. “No. No, it’s not.”

“You didn’t accept it, did you?”

She stares into your eyes.

She looks so pretty today, her hair half-up half-down. Her eyes always shine so brightly in the sun- they reflect it. Sunny days with her make your heart squeeze, because it always looks like she’s got suns for eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I am-”

You tear your hands away from her.

“Why- why would you- Oh, my Gods, Clarisse, why would you do this?”

You cry, and she reaches for you, her face twisting into something painful. But how can she expect you to run to her when she’s the one hurting you?

“Just- just not right now. Not until the 13th, let’s just have this together, okay?”

“How, Clar, how?”

She grabs your hands and doesn’t let you pull away.

“My father asked for me, he asked for me. I have to go. I can’t refuse my father, Y/N-”

You rip your hands away. “He doesn’t care about you, Clarisse. But I do. I care about you.”

She rubs her temples with one hand, the other still reaching for you, eyes screwed shut.

“Please don’t be like this. Don’t be selfish, I have to this. He asked for me, Y/N. This is such a huge step-”

“A huge step to him loving you? He’ll never love you. Our parents will never love us, because they’re incapable of caring about us. But you have me, Clarisse. You have me, and I love you so much-”

“You don’t know that,” she whispers. “You don’t know they can’t love us.”

“And neither do you.”

She reaches out to touch the tears falling down your face.

“Clarisse, please,” you cry. “I’m here. I’m always here, and just- just don’t put your father over me, please don’t, not anymore-”

She grabs your face. “I’m not going to choose between you and him.”

You’re full on sobbing now, and Clarisse never cries, but just the look on her face at seeing you cry makes you cry more.

“But I’m here, Clar, I’m here, I’ve always been here, please-”

She shushes you and tries to hug you, but you can’t, not when your mind is spinning to fast, not when you want nothing more than to be in her arms because you know if she just holds you then you’ll shut up and forget. But you can’t, you can’t, not this time.

Not when all the pieces are sinking together.

The only time you see her is when you sneak into each others beds, dates in the woods, secret looks across the courtyard, pulling each other into the bathrooms or sheds or something to make out.

You needed her so bad you didn’t realize that you were never first. You didn’t care, but at least she was still there.

“Did you even think about me when you said yes?”

She tries to hug you again. You stand on shaky legs.

“Y/N,” she whispers, half-broken, half-disbelief. “Don’t do this.”

“I just need a day,” you say, but you both know what this means.

She laughs, runs her hand through her hair.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this. Fuck, I know it’s not perfect, we’ve never been perfect, but I need you right now. Don’t walk away. Don’t be like that.”

“And if I asked you not to walk away? If I asked you not to be like that?”

“I’m not being like anything!” she yells. “You’re the one who’s being a selfish brat.”

You cross your arms and look at her. You want the ground to swallow you whole. You want to jump into her arms and never leave.

“Don’t, okay. Just don’t. Stay, and we’ll talk, I’ll try, you know I’m not good at this but I want to try, we have to try for us.”

“Clarisse, there’s no us anymore. You’re leaving.”

“Not until the 13th, Y/N. We could have something so good if we just… pretend.”

You could play pretend with her for hours. You could be married and you could live in a place where no monsters can touch you, where there’s no one to hide from. Where there’s no memory of her father, no axe hanging over you.

“I don’t want to pretend. I want you.”

But it’s Clarisse. It’s the girl you love, and you’re young so you believe you can fix this.

“Don’t go,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

You’re both glaring at each other, stupid teenage girls who fell in love too hard too fast, and now you’re scrambling at the world changes around you. You love her so much, but you finally realized that she doesn’t care about you, you’re her secret, and you haven’t had a backbone for so long but you will have one now.

“He asked for me. I already accepted. I need you right now, so stop being selfish and accept it.”

“How am I being selfish? How am I being selfish for not asking you to kill yourself? For asking you to put me first, for once?! You never put me first. I see that now. You never-”

She scoffs. “We both know that’s not true.”

“But I don’t, Clar. I don’t know that’s not true. So tell me, show me, make me believe it’s not true-”

She crosses the distance between you, even though it feels like a thousand miles, and plants her hands on your face. She kisses you, she kisses you like she loves you but not enough to stay.

But you kiss her back. You kiss her back, because she’s the love of your life. You’ll always come back like a kicked dog, like a ball on a chain. You’ll always come back to her like you go back to your bed each night- mindlessly, wordlessly, because it’s routine. Because you sleep in your bed and you need sleep to live, you need her to live.

She pulls back, breathing heavily against your lips.

“You are the only person who matters to me.”

Your grab her wrists and take her hands off your face. She tries to resist you, keep touching you, but it’s halfhearted because she’ll always end up doing the little things that you want.

“Only because the Gods aren’t people.”

“Y/N, stop.”

“Why do you go back to him? Why? Again and again, you go back even though he feels nothing for you- and you know it-”

She steps back, takes your hands off of her wrists.

“I-I’m sorry,” you breathe, you see the hurt on her face. “I didn’t mean it, I didn’t, it’s just, I love you-”

She blinks and stares at you like you just broke her favorite toy.

“I-I should go.”

You want her to say something, you want her to protest, you want her to kiss you again.

“Maybe you should,” she agrees. “Before we both say more things we’ll regret.”

Her face twists back into what she lets everyone else see, that hard mask of indifference, of cruelty and ruthlessness.

How can she hold you so tenderly and look at you like this? How can you pretend you’re still the girl she loves when the fog clears and you realize what you said?

“Yeah.”

You turn and leave the clearing, you can’t look at her hurt face anymore, tears streaming down your face. Clarisse stays there. You swear you hear the sound of muffled crying.

—-

June 12, 3:46 PM

Chiron announces the quest. It’s dangerous, that’s what he says, and he didn’t want to cause commotion in the camp by letting it come to light.

Are you horrible for wishing you had found out now? You would have had this untainted time with Clarisse. You would have loved her. You wouldn’t have had to pretend, because it would be real.

She’s selfish at every turn. She only tells you when it’s convenient for her to tell you, when she knows it’ll ruin it, ruin you, and lose this time together.

Her and her siblings stand next to Chiron.

She stares at you the entire time, and you don’t look at her once.

May hugs you when she hears, and you don’t speak, because how can you speak when everything is wrong? Everything is broken?

The mirror is broken, and what you thought you saw is no longer there. You only see your shattered self.

—-

June 13, 12:38 PM

You lasted maybe 20 minutes. You went to bed early, slept fitfully for a few hours, and woke up gasping about another nightmare- the same one you had the last time you slipped into Clarisse’s bed. You barely remember the nights you have nightmares, but you always know you go to her bed and she holds you, tells you it’s alright.

The dream, anxiously waiting for her to come back, spending your nights alone but warmed by anticipation and hope- and she just doesn’t. She doesn’t, and it all becomes dark and dull in the dreams and they turn into nightmares.

You cry and you scream and you curse the Gods for not bringing her back to you, but no one can hear you. You’re laying in your bed screaming and your siblings are gone, you know Clarisse is, and you feel so alone.

Feeling so alone it makes your bones shaking is terrifying. And you should be used to it. But you got used to Clarisse and her warm body. You got used to her touches, her words, the way she made you feel even just being in her bed- you could always sleep in her bed because she was there.

After she leaves, would anyone notice if you snuck into her bed? Would anyone notice if you laid your head on her pillow and pretended it was her chest? Would anyone notice if you slept in the shirts she left behind?

You last 20 minutes staring at the ceiling before you’re up.

You don’t care if Chiron will catch you. You don’t care if the entire camp will see you, you never did, but a private relationship was nice. It was yours and hers and no one else’s.

Private is different from secret.

Your feet sink into the soft grass, wrapping your arms around yourself, legs freezing in a cold breeze. You stop, looking at the Ares cabin.

The Ares cabin is just a house full of the best fighters at camp. Everyone looks at it and feels a little safer. You look at it and feel safer.

You’re filled with dread but you don’t care, because you know she’ll let you in, you know she’ll let you into her arms.

The door to the Ares cabin whips open.

Clarisse is there, feet turned left, toward you and your cabin behind you.

She stops and stares.

“Sorry,” you breathe. “It’s your last night, and I…”

“I know,” she says.

You step forward, all you want is to forget, all you want is one more peaceful night. As soon as you step up onto the porch Clarisse grabs you and pulls you in tight for a hug.

Her hands are spread wide across your shoulder blades, her body is pressed to yours, her head hooks over your neck.

“You’re so cold,” she whispers, because that’s all you can say when you don’t want to talk about the things that really matter. Of course she’s warm. She’s like your own personal heater, always warm and always comforting.

She lets go after a moment, hesitantly, but winds your fingers into hers. She leads you to your bed, you avoid the freaky floorboards better than her-

“I never have to be quiet in here,” she whispers. “It’s funny.”

You hum, she urges you onto her bed and climbs in behind you. You face the wall, breathing in heavily, shivering as she wraps herself around you. You didn’t realize how cold you were until she was holding you.

You didn’t realize how damaging this relationship was until you were so wrecked by it.

You didn’t realize how much you loved her until she was leaving.

You can feel her wanting to say something.

“Shut up,” you mumble, holding her hand.

She laughs.

“Okay, whatever you want.”

You remember this might be the last time you’ll ever hear her laugh.

This might be the last time she ever holds you.

“Don’t cry, please,” she begs, kissing the back of your head. “If I can’t talk you can’t cry, I hate when you cry.”

“I can’t,” you breathe, shoving your face into her pillow.

“Hey, hey,” she murmurs, flipping you around so you’re facing each other. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You don’t think she’s ever apologized this much in her life.

“It hurts me too,” she continues, you press your face into her neck and feel yourself exhale against her warm skin. “If it didn’t have to be like this…”

“It doesn’t,” you mumble. “It doesn’t have to be like this, so don’t let it, Clarisse.”

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” she whispers, her voice cracking just a bit. So quiet only you can hear it because you’re pressed up right against her.

You want to just climb into her, make a home for yourself in between her ribs where you could always feel her heartbeat and always know she’s there.

“Can’t I just come with you?” you cry.

She grabs you a little tighter, like she’s annoyed just by the thought of you being in danger. “No, Y/N. No, you’re going to stay here at camp, and you’ll be safe. I made my siblings promise to look after you, you’ll be okay without me-”

Her siblings are the only ones who know, but that’s only because every once in a while Clarisse won’t let you leave and you’ll oversleep and they’ll see you in her bed.

She swears them all to secrecy and as their cabin leader and their sister, a fellow child of Ares who’s doomed to want someone they can’t have, doomed to hide in the shadows- there’s so many campers who sneak into the Ares cabin at night, and you all ignore it.

There is a certain desperation with demigods and love. Every time could be the last time.

You wish you could swear off love, you wish you could, but Clarisse has you so wrecked you can’t breathe without thinking about her. You run on her, like she’s coffee or sunshine, she’s the IV stuck into your arm, and you don’t want to imagine living without her.

You think of a future without her and it’s just blank.

She holds you tighter and let’s you cry, louder and louder, muffled into her neck. She says she’s sorry but she doesn’t mean it, she can’t, and you don’t care. You can’t care, not right now, not when this is the last time.

“But I’m here right now, okay? I’m here right now, so just listen to my heart.” You grab onto her, trying to keep her here with you- but she won’t. She’ll go. She’ll leave you, and there’s nothing you can do.

You realize with such a startling finality that this is the last time. How deeply you feel it in your heart, not a pain but just an ache, an emptiness- it’s almost beautiful how it washes over you like a wave, like your heart stops and you’re just left a shell.

You breathe in wildly, but you can’t catch your breath, not when she’s half-here, you’re stuck in this hazy reality. Fading in and out. Her heartbeat. Her breath. Her touch. Her voice.

“I’m here right now,” she says. “I’m here right now,” and it’s the last time.

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss

—-

DID WE HAVE FUN OR DID WE HAVE FUN?!?!??!??

[achilles-rage]

achilles-rage’s twelve days of christmas

day eight: the man with the bag (ft. evan buckley)

summary: when shopping for some new clothes, you come across something that gives you an idea of how to surprise buck for christmas.

word count: 2.1k

series masterlist

a/n: so sorry this is a day late, i didn’t wanna release a half assed fic because i think this idea is so silly lol. every other fic will still be released on time, so tomorrow, and then every other day after that!! also, i think this is so goofy and borerlines on cringy, but simply embrace the cringe because i think buck would love this scenario LOL. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: smut, no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

MDNI- 18+ only!

You feel like you’re in a scene of an early 2000’s rom com as you walk to Buck’s from the parking lot, your coat clutched between your hands; trying to make sure it stays closed. You know it’ll be worth it once you get to his place, but right now, you feel weird and slightly wrong.

It started when you were doing some online shopping, and when you opened one of your favourite clothing store websites, you saw a big flashing ad for their “holiday lingerie collection.”

You got curious; you had no idea what the holidays had to do with lingerie, so you clicked on it. Much to your surprise, most of the items were pretty normal, just in either red or green, but when you saw the set you had ended up buying, you couldn’t hold back your laughter.

It was silly, and you’re not really sure why you actually ended up buying it, but you know it would make Buck laugh just as much, and it’s a perfect gift-not-gift to give him before the actual gifts you bought for him.

When you finally get to his front door, you knock, anxiously looking down the hall as you wait. When you hear his voice from the other side of the door telling you to come in, you’re quick to turn the knob and slip in.

“Buck?” you call into the house when you look into the kitchen, and then the living room, and don’t see him.

“Up here!” he calls from his room.

Well, that’s sort of perfect, you think to yourself.

You take your coat off quickly, then check yourself out in his entryway mirror one more time, looking down at the bright red, mesh babydoll slip you’re wearing with white fuzzy detailing along the neckline and the bottom hem, and the matching red panties. You make sure your makeup is still in place, and then you take your santa hat out of your bag and put it on before slowly ascending the stairs with a smirk on your face.

“No fucking way.” you say with a giggle when you get to the top of the stairs, your smirk falling as you see Buck laid on his bed in nothing but a pair of red santa pants and a hat.

The smirk falls from his face as well, and his jaw drops, eyeing your curves in your lingerie set. He stands up from the bed and closes the distance between you, chuckling as he reaches out and grabs your hips.

“Did we both have the same idea?” he asks, and you nod, resting your forehead against his bare chest as you laugh along with him.

So much for your funny, sexy, weird idea.

“You look fucking incredible. The perfect Mrs. to my Mr. Claus.” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he eyes the tops of your breasts peeking out of your slip when you look back up at him.

“Now, we’re gonna find out if you’ve been naughty, or nice.” he purrs, lowering his head towards your neck.

“I was gonna say that!” you exclaim, laughing in disbelief as you push him back from your neck by his chest.

His brows raise in surprise, and then he smiles widely, bringing a finger up to the underside of your chin and pulling your lips up to his.

You’re absolutely perfect for him, he knows it.

He kisses you passionately, clumsily, and his tongue is quick to dart into your mouth when you part your lips to catch your breath.

“I can’t believe you stole my idea.” you whisper against his lips, hands moving down his firm chest to the waistband of his pants.

He chuckles lowly, his hips moving from your hips to your ass, grabbing and kneading it roughly. The fabric of your slip tickles his bare chest, and he’s not sure what he wants more; for you to keep it on, or to rip it off of you himself.

When he begins to walk you back towards the bed, you break the kiss, tutting softly.

“Uh uh, I walked all the way up to your apartment in this.” you argue softly, then flip him around and push him down onto the bed.

He groans as he hits the bed, his hands immediately finding your thighs as you straddle his lap. Your lips find his quickly, and you kiss him with fervour as you begin to slowly grind against him.

“Now, do you think you’ve been naughty, or nice?” you ask when you pull back, massaging his scalp with one hand while your other arm loops around the back of his neck.

“Hmm, I think I’ve been pretty good to you.” he murmurs, his blood running hot when he sees the devilish look in your eyes.

“I don’t know, I think you’ve been naughty. Might have to do something to make it up to me.” you purr, your hips still moving slowly against his.

He smirks, slowly bringing one of his hands up to the waistband of your red panties, letting his fingers dance along the fabric and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“I can do that.” he hums before dipping his fingers under your panties and finding your clit effortlessly. You let out a soft moan, grinding against his fingers as they circle your clit.

“Yeah, you better.” you manage to get out before he’s inserting two of his fingers into your cunt, moving at an achingly slow pace.

You moan quietly, bringing your lips to his as your hips continue to move against his fingers, desperate for more. Your kisses are sloppy as he swallows your moans, tongues licking into each other’s mouths and teeth clacking together as you both get more desperate.

His thumb moves to circle your clit, his fingers speeding up their pace and making you tilt your head back in pleasure, your hands squeezing his biceps in a desperate attempt to keep yourself grounded.

“What are my chances of getting back into your good graces after this?” he rasps, a wicked grin on his face when he sees how easy it is to have you moaning and squirming for his touch.

“Pretty fucking good.” you whimper, bringing your face back down and smashing your lips to his again.

When he curls his fingers up to tap your g-spot, your mewl loudly, back arching as you clench around his fingers.

“Cum for me, baby.” he whispers, parting from your lips and attaching his own to your neck, nipping and sucking at the skin hard.

You fall over the edge with a few more thrusts of his fingers, squeezing your eyes shut as your body goes taut. Buck slows the movements of his fingers slowly, cooing softly as you come down from your high.

When you finally open your eyes, you smile at him lazily, then bring your lips together, humming softly as he brings his hands up to your hips.

Then, in one swift motion, you push him back to lay on the bed completely, his feet still over the edge of the bed and firmly placed on the hardwood as his back hits the sheets.

“Am I on your nice list yet?” he teases, his eyes widening slightly in surprise, but feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the way you take charge.

“Not if you keep asking.” you tease back, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. He groans, smirking as he feels you resuming your grinding against his lap again, hard cock pressing against your dripping folds.

“Yes ma’am.” he whispers before your lips are on his neck, pressing searing kisses down his skin and towards his broad chest. He tries to buck his hips against you, desperate for more friction, and you giggle softly, pulling back from his chest to look down at him.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you tease, smirking. “Keep them there.” you tell him sternly before you take your hands from his wrists.

He’s tempted to grab your hips and flip you over so he’s back in control, but he doesn’t. He loves the way it feels to lay under you like this, and he wants to see it go on for a little while longer.

“Good boy.” you tease, then raise your hips just enough to tug his pants down and let his hard cock spring free. He lets out a ragged moan at the nickname, feeling your fingers ghosting over his length as it hits his stomach.

You pull your panties to the side, and line him up with your entrance, and you don’t waste another second, sinking onto him until he’s completely buried inside of you.

Your hands go back to his wrists as you begin to move, moans tumbling out of both of your lips as he stretches you out.

“God, you feel so good, baby.” he rasps, resisting the urge to get his arms free from your grip. You both know that he could very easily get out of your grip; those muscles aren’t just for show, but it wouldn’t be any fun if he didn’t let you pin him down every once in a while.

“Yeah, you trying to sweet talk me, Buckley?” you tease, rolling your hips against his in a way that has him moaning desperately.

“Is it working?” he asks, letting out a low groan when you lean down and start pressing kisses on his chest, biting and sucking on his skin every now and then.

“Could be.” you whisper against his skin, beginning to bounce on his cock.

He can already feel himself getting close, but he tries to hold back as he watches the way your plush belly and chest move with each bounce.

God, what he’d give to touch your soft skin right now.

When your movements begin to get sloppy, hips moving out of time and your eyes beginning to roll back, he finally rips his wrists from your grip.

He grabs your hips and flips you onto your back before you can react, pushing into you as soon as you’re situated.

You look up at him with a surprised, and slightly dazed expression, and he just chuckles lowly, thrusting into you hard and fast, and moaning loudly as he feels how well you grip his cock.

“What? I’ve still gotta prove that you’re a good girl, don’t I?” he teases, and you let out a quick, breathless laugh, which turns into a moan as he grabs one of your thighs and pulls it up to his hip.

You look up at him, barely able to fight back as you feel the pit forming in your lower belly. Your hands are gripping his biceps hard, and when he brings the hand from your hip up to your neck, you can feel yourself about to fall over the edge.

“You gonna be a good girl and cum for me, baby?” he growls, and all you can do is nod. Your nails are digging into his biceps, making half moon indents in his skin, and he stares into your eyes, wanting to watch your face as you cum on his cock.

With a few more thrusts, you’re clenching and cumming around him, overwhelmed with the feeling of him spilling his seed into your pulsing cunt.

He practically collapses onto you, still buried deep inside you as you both come down from your highs. Your chest is heaving as you hold him close, bringing one hand up and massaging his scalp.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, and then each of your cheeks, and then your nose, and then finally your lips with a soft hum.

He pulls out with a low groan, feeling his release slowly dripping out of your cunt and falling down to the bedsheets under you. He watches your soft belly and chest rising and falling under your nearly-see-through slip with each breath as he kneels over you. He’s unable to resist the urge to place his large hands on your tummy, just to feel your plushness between his fingers.

He lets his hands move up under your slip, slowly squeezing and kneading at your tummy, and you giggle softly, feeling your face and the tips of your ears get

hot at the attention.

“Am I on your nice list, now?” you ask with a lazy grin, watching as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the middle of your tummy, just above your belly button.

“Oh, absolutely. But now I think I’ve gotta reward you for being such a good girl.” he purrs, moving to hover over you again with a smirk.

Maybe holiday lingerie wasn’t such a bad idea after all, you think as he flips you over onto your stomach.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[k2ntoss]

OMG MARA

Soft, lazy kisses and innocent touches that turn bolder and more sinful as you just can’t resist each other.

“This is wrong.” “So wrong.” While continuing to pull at each others clothes, mind fogged with nothing but lust and arousal.

THIS TWO WITH JASONNN PLEASEEE

girl, allow me to fangirl over this because YOU are here on my asks i feel so *screams* okay okay okay !!!! let me get at it, i just love how your mind works so here we go :3 bestfriends shit with jay

soft, lazy kisses and innocent touches that turn bolder and more sinful as you just can't resist each other + "this is wrong." "so wrong." while continuing to pull at each others clothes, mind fogged with nothing but lust and arousal

it was meant to be a lecture afternoon on his place, jason offered to help you prepare yourself for a literature test and it was like it at first but it was easy to get distracted when any other thing to talk about popped into your head and jason couldn't help it but to listen to you and then go on a long ramble with you.

right now he leans back into the couch, letting you lay your head on his chest as you go on rambling about thay last episode you watched of your favorite show, he listens to you with patience and he is bery much aware of the books that lay now untouched on your coffee table.

"so you know how that's just a metaphor to let us know that hannibal is actually in love with will? i mean, why would you compare yourself and your patient to achilles and patroclus if you weren't in love with him?" you ask him and jason looks like he thinks about it before nodding.

"i can see your point, but i haven't seen the show to know a little more about their interactions" he replies with a subtle shrug as his hand goes to softly play with your hair as he presses his chin on top of your head "but i do know that achilles and patroclus weren't just friends, that's pure bullshit"

and that makes you laugh, the way he always speaks his mind and how smart jason always sounds when it comes to literature and art never fails to amaze you. he looks down at you at the same time you look up at him at you can feel his heart beat a little faster at how close your faces are. you both like each other and you both know it, the subtle hand touching when you walk by his side that makes him smirk proudly when you blush or the lingering kisses on your forehead and cheeks are just too clear, the way you enjoy it too much when jason holds you and how you always find an excuse to nuzzle into his side makes him aware.

so why would he miss the chance to taste those pretty lips of yours? jason leans in to press his lips on yours, soft and sweet as his hands cup your cheeks, your own finding their way to covers his and it's all so cute because he pulls away with a small and shy smile "did you know you're just too cute when you ramble about the things you like?" jason says softly, his lips brushing against your before he kisses you again, one of his hand now down on your neck to bring you closer.

"i didn't knew, but have i told you already how good you look when you speak about the things you know?" you reply in a cheeky tone, pulling away as your hand goes down to hold onto his wrist before kissing his lips too, leaning into his body just so you could both lazily lay there on the couch and keep on kissing each other. soon enough the hand that was still cupping your cheek finds your waist and yours is now pressed against his chest, the kiss grows a little deeper when jason's tongue touches softly your bottom lip before making its way between your parted lips, breath growing a bit heavier.

you are fighting yourself to keep quiet, it was just jason and you on the living room but his roomate was on his own room too, you knew roy well enough to know he was like jay's brother and you knew thst maybe, just maybe you both didn't wanted to be found kissing almost on top of each other as your hands roammed over your bodies.

jason grunts against your mouth when your hand tugs at his shirt and be bites your lip playfully, pulling again without letting go off it just yet and with his eyes fixed on yours as he smirks at you, one of his hands starting to slide under your shirt making you feel his fingertips warm against your stomach.

there isn't a word worth saying when he lets go of your lip because as soon as he does you're back at kissing him, needier and hungrier as his tongue swirls into your mouth making him moan lowly when you suck on it, your fingers now caressing the nape of his neck before diving into his hair as his hand goes up your torso, teasingly touching the edge of your bra.

you took it as a sing, moving until you sat on his lap. jason held your hips with one of his arms around your body, his other hand now fully cupping one of your tits as the kiss got more heated, sloppy and aggressive. he was biting on your lips, letting your tongue wrestle with his and grunting when you first moved your hips against his pelvis.

"not here. roy could find us and i'm not really on the mood to let him see you like this" jason mumbles, forcing himself away from your lips as he sits on the couch, making you straddle him before standing up so he could carry you to his room. as he did he kissed your neck, smirking everytime a soft giggle came out of your lips as you tilted your head, fingers gripping his hair as he did bit your skin playfully.

"god jason, you're playing with me" you said in a whisper, the grin on your lips only fueled jason as he closed the door by kicking it and it made you moan the second he pushed your body against the wall that he shared with roy.

"am i now, princess?" he asks, whispering too and looking up at you as he was still holding you with your legs wrapped around his waist and as soon as you nod his hands travel from under your knees to your ass, giving you a playful squeeze before devouring your lips again.

jason feels your hands tugging his shirt from his back, starting to pull it up and he pushes you a little more so his hands can do the same with your shirt and it's messy because you can't seem to stop kissing and let out muffled moans and grunts into each other's mouth.

"this is wrong." jason chuckles as he pulls away from your lips, pupils blown wide as he manages to take off your shirt and his hands tremble a little when he unclasps your bra and lets it fall from your shoulder, moaning when he's able to see your bare breasts.

"so wrong." you agree with a sweet giggle, your hands pulling up his shirt and taking it off before tossing it away. it wasn't that you didn't felt anything for jason but there was this voice inside your heads that whispered about this maybe not working between you, but being honest there wasn't two people more meant to be than you.

knowing this by how well you got along, by how you completed each other was soothing because it meant the same for you. the lust and arousal also complemented by how you loved him and he loved you made every touch and kiss a hundred times more intense. it's easy to push that thought aside when he puts you down, his hands going down to unbutton your jeans as his lips glide down your neck, your hands also undoing jason's belt and unbuttoning his jeans before your touch wanders down to caress his half-hardened cock.

the low moan that leaves his mouth as he sucks a small mark on your shoulder makes you grin, he's now pulling your pants down and gripping at your hips with a smirk as you stroke him over his boxers and it turns him on so much it's not so long until you both manage to let all your clothes scattered over the floor of jason's room.

"you look so damn good like this," he mutters against your ear, his voice rumbles at how deep it turns when your hand moves up and down around his dick, his fingers tracing a path between your thighs until he finds your core and he grins widely when he feels your wetness "being so wet just for me."

the stroke he makes between your folds drags a moan out of your lips and he hushes you with a bruising kiss, thumb circling on your clit as your fingers trace his cock and one of your legs is wrapped again around his hips to give him easier access to your cunt.

"you have to be quiet, baby." he whispers against your lips as you rock your hips against his hand and he sounds already so dominant you only manage to nod, holding back a deep moan when his fingers collect your slick before he pushes two into your entrance, stretching you in a way that made you moan silently, lungs suddenly breathless by how he found your sweet spot with such an ease it got your legs weak.

"fuck jay," you whine lowly, trying to keep your voice as soft as you can because you want to be loud to at least muffle the sounds on his fingers inside your aching pussy "i need you inside of me, please..." you beg in a pleading whisper, eyes glazed as you move your hand to press his tip against your throbbing clit.

the need and lust on your voice and face makes him growl and he takes his fingers out of you, quickly replacing your hand with his. stroking himself he uses your slick and his precum to make sure he can slide into your warmth. it only takes him seconds until jason pulls you up again, wrapping your legs around his hips as he uses one of his hands to guide himself inside of you and he grunts as soon as your thight walls swallow his shaft.

"that's it... taking me so good," he says, letting you hear the smirk on his lips as he presses your back against the wall and gives a first slow thrust "it's like this pussy was made just for me, isn't it?"

and he sounds just so filthy you can't help but moan this time a little louder, jason chuckles at that as his hands hold onto your hips to start thursting into you a little faster and harder. your hands gripping onto his shoulders as your fingernails sink on his skin amd the way he looks at your parted lips makes him feel so proud of himself.

"i- i need you to ruin me, jay." you'd say when his fingers grip a little harder on your plushy hips "don't care if someone hears me, please make me scream your name." and the way you beg for him makes him feel even more powerful.

"want me to make you scream like a pretty whore, baby?" he asks with a deep thrust, his eyes dark with lust and need "i'm gonna ruin you so bad, you won't ever feel so good again in your life if it's not my cock inside of you, you'll be all mine."

you'd be lying if you said you wouldn't cum just with his words but it was a mix of everything. the filthy talking, the way he fucked you pressed against the wall while picking you up like a little toy and how he looked at you as if he needed to own you in every possible way; you just wanted to let him get his way with you, wanted him to ruin sex for you because you knew not other person was going to be able to bring this much pleasure to you.

jason kept going, his deep strokes making you cry and whine as you held onto him for dear life. head falling back as he kissed and marked your neck and tits, nibbling on your nipples as his thick cock kissed your cervix, bringing you to the edge and making him growl heavily when you clenched around him like a vice.

"you feel so fucking thight, princess, tell me how much you need to cum." he asks breathlessly as he slows his pace a little, kissing sloppier pecks on the side of your neck as he waits for your reply.

"so much, jay, need to cum so much." you beg in a whiny tone, your eyes fixed on his and he nods, kissing your lips soothingly because he knows you're overwhelmed and your climax tenses your body more and more with each thrust.

"c'mon, baby... cum all over this cock." he grunts, kissing your chin as he goes back to that fast and hard pace, pulling you down on him and moving your body as if it was nothing "cum and scream my name like the little slut you are,"

his voice and the way he moves inside of you is enough to make you moan loudly, crying his name out loud as your body jerks in an intense orgasm that makes your inner walls clench around him in a way that made it seem like your pussy was pushing him out, feeling that made him grunt heavily, emptying his load inside of you with a messy and deep thrust.

[ann-whispers]

I will say, while I do enjoy enough of Percy Jackson books… I think I prefer the fanfictions that take that world and lean into the darker parts of it.

I really enjoy fanfics I find that have the gods be more… godly I guess. The gods in PJO just feel too much like regular people. Like just annoying people. Also they just suck in general… Luke was an asshole but I kinda get why he was doing it you know? They are fucking gods. They can’t like make sure they’re kids don’t have to struggle and fight just to fucking exist??

I will say, I live for fanfiction where Percy ascends even if he didn’t choose to. Beautiful and tragic and honestly with the shit Percy does thats all I can see happening.

Another thing i enjoy in PJO fanfiction is when it becomes critical of certain characters (if you like Annabeth Chase and Percabeth please leave) and of camp half-blood and camp Jupiter. I cannot stress this enough, those camps are cults making child soldiers. They are not a safe space. They are cults training children to willingly sacrifice themselves for their parents who don’t give a flying shit about them. Chiron literally looked over the fact Percy could have died in that capture the flag game. Camp Halfblood sent out a kid with the like 0 training to go on a death quest just because his father got accused of a damn crime, and they sent him with the girl who nearly gor him fucking killed (Im so sorry I don’t like Annabeth). Camp Jupiter is so much worse because Im sorry??? There are adults??? Why are the children the military??? Thats not even mentioning the fact that so many of these kids are year rounders. They don’t have an actual home to go back to. Thats terrifying, they are stuck in these fucking death camps. Once again, no wonder there are kids who joined Kronos’ army. Not a good thing but I kinda fucking get it.

Also oh my god Percabeth. I love Annabeth bashing fics. Those feed my soul. I don’t care much for Annabeth Chase. She’s interesting but she’s also fucking shit. She beats Percy everytime she gets and is praised for every shitty thing she does and I hate that so fucking much. Im actually so scared for Leah because when people start putting together how shit Annabeth is as PJO get adapted into shows Im so scared she’ll get the brunt of all the problems when it was just how her character was horribly written. Fandom made Percabeth cuter and healthier then they actually are in canon (she didn’t know his Achilles curse was gone yet judo flipped him. Percy. Could. Have. Died.)

Anyway… anyone have recommendations for any fics that lean into the more fucked up side of these books? I’d love to hear it

[bookshelf-dust]

pouring out the sun

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 6,988

warnings: swearing, chubby!reader, reader deals with specific body insecurities, swimsuit wearing, brief mention of blood?, post-starcourt billy, slight sexual innuendos (let me know if i missed anything)

a/n: well, um, it’s been a little over a month since you got a fic from me. i took a break from writing, but my mental health only got worse, so clearly it didn’t work too well. this fic was meant to be a way for me to work through some things, so beware of that. i thought maybe someone else might need it too, or might even understand, in some way. i know i don’t usually do specifics regarding reader, but this is really for me. also, the title is a reference to the song of achilles, but it seemed fitting. i hope this turned out okay. i know it’s a lot, but it’s something. <33

————

The wall behind you is starting to make your back ache. The chill you’d felt through your shirt when you’d first situated yourself against it is long gone. You pull your knees up as close as you can get them and wrap your arms around your calves. 

Billy has pressed himself into the footboard of your bed. He’s staring at you and your obstinance makes you stare right back. He crosses his arms, and your gaze flickers to the way his biceps shift with the movement. He’d tease you if he weren't so determined to challenge your stubbornness with his own. 

“How long?” you question, pressing your cheek into the skin of your knee and letting your eyes flutter closed.

“A week. Maybe two,” he answers. 

You scoff and roll your neck so that your forehead can take the place of your cheek. “Oh, holy shit,” you say, voice muffled by your legs. “Yeah, that’s a no.”

Billy rolls his eyes, and even if you can’t see him, you can feel it. He runs a hand down his face. You have your moments, where you can be incredibly difficult, but this is something different. It’s almost like you’re frustrated in some way, and it frustrates Billy that he can’t pinpoint why. 

“You sound like Harrington.” He pushes off the bed and lands a playful slap to the side of your calf before walking out of the room, hoping a bit of pacing might help him figure out what to do.

Billy has wanted to go back to California since he got to Hawkins, though now he seems to be content with a simple vacation, rather than being in a rush to move back. When he brought it up again today, telling you firmly that he is going, you thought it sounded lovely. That it’d be good for him, that maybe he’d take Max and they’d do some family bonding or something. But that’s not what he’d said.

He wants you to go with him.

And you hate the beach. With a burning, fiery passion. 

Despite this, there’s a voice in the back of your head that tells you you’ll end up going anyway–just for him. But right now, the idea of going to California makes you nauseous. 

Sitting in a hot car for the length of that trip, sweating your ass off, baking in the sun, being trapped on the beach for hours? What’s so fun about all of that? And then there’s the matter of a swimsuit. Billy has certainly never seen you in one, and he definitely doesn’t know that you got rid of the ones that were once in your possession. 

He traipses back into the room, making you look up. It’s as if he’s somehow sensed that you were lost in thought, that you were being unkind to yourself. He doesn’t like it when you shit on his girl.

“Look,” Billy starts, leaning against the doorframe. “If you really don’t want to go, I’m not gonna force you or anything.”

He pauses, and you slide further down the wall until your back rests firmly against the mattress. You force yourself to make eye contact with him–only for a moment. 

“I just thought it might be nice to have you with me. I wanted to take you home.” His mouth tips up in a grin at that last bit. He’s guilt tripping you. 

“Goddamnit, William.” You slap your hands over your eyes, shielding yourself from him like he might up and turn you to stone. You’ve never fancied being a garden statue. 

“I just…I don’t know, Billy. There’s a lot for me to think about.” You pull your hands back and his face is inches from yours. It makes you jump, but makes his mouth twist into a Cheshire cat grin. Contrary to the way his boots usually announce his presence, he’s partial to moving like a cat when no one else is around. “Jesus.”

He presses his palms into the bed on either side of you and sits so that his thighs bracket your own. This way you can’t run when he asks you why you’re so insistent about not going to California with him.

“You mean there’s a lot for you to overthink about.” His hands find your sides, thumbs sweeping over the soft of your belly. Your mind jumps to the pudge you know lies underneath your shirt, the very thing that prevents you from wearing the teeny bikinis Heather Holloway runs around in. Right now you can’t bear to have him touch you, and you push his hands off. 

You give him an agitated look, and again that feeling, that he can’t quite pinpoint what’s going on, crawls up Billy’s abdomen and prods at his throat. “What? Like that’s not what you were doing when I came back in here?”

He goes to rest his hands on your thighs, the bare skin calling to him, skin he wants to grasp, knowing how pliant it will be, how it might move under his fingertips, but he stops himself. He thinks that you’ll just push him off again, so he settles for planting them back against the mattress, though close enough that he can feel the warmth of you–close enough that you’re still tangible.

You sigh. He mocks the sound, pitching his voice up just that little bit higher. You cover your face with your palms once more. 

“Look,” Billy starts, “I’ll take care of everything. There’s really nothing for you to worry about. You know I’ve been saving for this since I got here.”

You nod behind your hands, and Billy recognizes it as a gesture you make when you’re about to cry. He swears his heart drops out of his ass. 

“Hey, hey, hey–what’s going on in there?” He pulls at your wrists, a gentle grip, but more than enough to be firm. You let him move your hands away, and he sets them on your belly, but even that seems to be wrong. You’re quick to remove them, not being able to stand the squish of your own flesh. 

You aren’t crying, but your eyes are a little glassy. Billy thinks whatever tears might’ve been about to spill, you’ve willed away. You inhale.

“Billy, I can’t just go to the beach.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I don’t look like you.”

If you could manage to look at him, you’d see the way Billy’s brows meet, maybe even catch the way his breath hitches in his throat. He connects the dots, all at once. Suddenly he knows what you mean.

Last summer, when you were still just friends, you’d come and eat lunch with him on his break. But never once did you actually go swimming, always just taking off when he had to continue his shift. Billy had secretly hoped you’d stay and lounge, at least, during one of the many times you dropped Max or Dustin off. You never did. 

He’s not even sure he ever saw you in something other than jeans then. Hell, you’re wearing shorts right now, in the comfort of your own home, but you don’t ever leave the house in them. Why hadn’t he seen it before? Why hadn’t the thought at least occurred to him?

He thinks about all the times you avoid mirrors, or looking at other people. How you never want to go shopping, how all of your clothes are just that little bit too big. He realizes it’s serving you a purpose. You’re trying to hide–from Hawkins, from him, from yourself.

Billy feels like he’s been punched, or maybe like someone’s poured ice water down the back of his shirt. Still he teases. He needs to.

“Well, contrary to popular belief, I'm really not that into myself. So I’m actually pretty damn grateful that you don’t look like me.”

He tracks your shaky inhale. The teasing has failed him, and he doesn’t want to see you cry.

Billy moves off of your lap in hopes that it might help pull you out of your head for a moment. “You wanna talk to me?” he ventures. You sit up, nodding. The movement allows the tears you’d been holding back to slip free, gliding down the apples of your cheeks.

Billy’s thumbs are against your skin in a moment, wiping them away. “Yeah?” He reciprocates your nod, more reassuring, supportive, than mocking. Billy holds out his hand for you to take. You bring it into your lap, tracing the many creases on his palm. It gives you something steady to focus on, grounds you enough that you can concentrate on getting your words out. 

“I know it’s stupid,” you mumble, voice thick with emotion. Billy flicks his fingers upward to tickle your own, and it gets your lips to tick up just that little bit. 

“It’s not stupid,” he says, tone dead serious. “What’s that shit you always tell me?” He raises his other hand, waving it around. “This is a safe space to share your feelings.” He says the words playfully, as if it might pain him, though he’s just trying to help you like you do for him. Your heart warms at the effort.

“It’s my body, Billy. I can’t just go to the beach because the beach means a swimsuit, it means people seeing me in a swimsuit, you seeing me, but I can’t wear one, and I—” You pause, drawing in a breath. Your eyes squeeze shut for just a second, another tear falling down, but you catch it before he can.

“I hate my body, okay? And I love that you want to take me with you to California, really it means so much to me, but I-I know that means tagging along with you, being out in hot weather, and I’m just going to ruin it all for you looking like this. Really you should be taking someone else. Someone who can maybe put on clothes without sobbing.”

When you finish and look up at him, Billy looks heartbroken. It immediately makes you want to take it all back. You never meant to tell him any of this. 

“You sob when you have to get dressed?” he asks, almost tentatively. The way he says it tells you he’s not picking on you, but instead trying to understand. He’s picturing it, you struggling to simply get ready for the day, and it kills him. You shouldn’t have to feel that way.

“I have before, yeah. And Billy you’re hot. I know you know that. You should be with someone who’s equally as attractive. Not someone like me.”

You hiccup and release Billy’s hand. You start playing with a string on the hem of your worn-out shorts. Billy’s thumb finds your forearm, dragging up to press against the inside of your elbow. “Baby.”

You shake your head, forcing a sad smile to form on your face. “It’s alright. I told you it was silly.”

“Are you shitting me right now?” His grip tightens ever so slightly. He’s begging for you to listen to him without ever saying so. You meet his eyes, and he’s looking at you with so much concern, so much love, that you wish you hadn’t looked at all. This isn’t silly. Not to him.

“What is it about your body that you don’t like? Can you tell me that much?” 

More understanding. More compassion. You can’t take it.

You bite the inside of your lip so hard that you draw blood. You press your tongue against the spot, hoping it will stop. You’re getting angry with yourself. For making this situation about you, for telling him about your stupid feelings, for thinking that you could ever make this work when clearly you’re not meant to even be in a relationship, especially not with him, and definitely not when you look like this–

“Stop. Take a deep breath, and talk to me.” Billy’s tone is unyielding. You’re working this out right now, and he’s made that decision for you. He knows if you don’t, you’ll just shove it right back under the rug and keep fighting this internal battle with yourself all while he’s right here.

You do as he said, and start again. 

“I don’t like my tummy, or my hips, o-or my boobs. My arms are wrong too, and I’ve got all these rolls, and nothing is shaped right. I hate everything, and I can’t even look in the mirror anymore, and I want to go on this trip with you, really I do, but all of this is overwhelming me, and I-I’m just going to ruin it for you.”

“Look at me,” Billy says. You hadn’t even noticed you’d stopped, eyes glued to your bedsheets. You start crying again, warm tears spilling over your lashes. You can’t get them to stop, can’t get your thoughts to stop. It makes you want to press your hands to your ears, like that would help, but really it’s just you. You in your own head. 

Billy takes your face in his hands. “There is nothing wrong with your body. This is just your mind fuckin’ with you. I know that every part of you is perfect, just as it is, and you don’t have to look like anyone else to be good enough.”

You shake your head and grab hold of his wrists. “See, but you can’t really say that. You don’t actually know what my body looks like because I don’t have it in me to let you see it. I know that if you did, you’d be grossed out, Billy. There’s so much fat, and pudge, and I–”

“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing? Because it isn’t and I don’t wanna hear you say that again, you understand?” You sniffle. He takes that as a yes. 

“Baby, I know I haven’t seen shit. But I fucking swear that I’d be a goner for it. You think I mind having a little extra to squeeze on? ‘Cause I don’t.”

You’re trying so hard to believe him, but every cell, every nerve in your body is screaming in protest. He’s lying. He’s lying, he’s lying, he’s lying. But there’s a part of your brain that knows he isn’t. That he wouldn’t dare lie to you. 

“My body is…it’s disappointing.” You sit up on your knees and wipe your nose. “Because I-I know what the world wants me to look like, and I don’t look like that.” You squeeze your eyes shut, and more tears slip out. He can’t stand to see you like this, and it’s killing him to know that this is what you’ve been dealing with for who knows how long.

“It’s not fair,” you cry. “It’s not fair because I don’t get to walk around with this amazing body, the kind of body that men clearly want, and I think now I want it too. I sit in my room at night and I think about how I’d love myself more if I had a different body.”

Now that the floodgates have opened, you can’t force them closed. 

“Because I don’t have porn star tits, Billy. They’re sad looking, and they definitely don’t look like the chick’s on your bedroom wall, or the ones in your bedside drawer. 

He lets out a scoff of a laugh. It’s not malicious, not even at all. It’s simply due to the fact that your mind, and the world around you, has led you to hating the body you were given. He laughs because he agrees with you that it isn’t fair. It isn’t fair that you’re feeling like this. But he has to make sure you recognize that you can’t compare yourself to fucking models. 

“You know all of their tits are fake, right? Or strapped in somehow to get ‘em that high.”

You rub your nose, drag a hand down your throat. “Well, yeah but I’m sure there are lots of other women around here with better boobs than me. I know you like boobs, Billy. And mine are gross.”

“Yeah, that’s bullshit. They aren’t gross, and you shouldn’t talk about your girls like that.” He holds up a finger to prevent you from fussing about that comment. “I don’t care if they’re a little droopy or if they aren’t these round balloons, or if they aren’t porn star tits, or whatever it is about them you don’t like. And I know it’s only because you’ve been comparing your tits with some stranger’s, and that’s bullshit too.” You stare at Billy blankly, but he’s still not done. 

“I wouldn’t care about any of those things. Because they’re your boobies, and that makes them my favorites.”

“Please don’t say boobies, Billy.” He grins and leans in until his mouth hovers above the shell of your ear.

“And I always end up thinkin’ about you anyway.” Your face starts to burn and you fight the urge to abort right then and there. “Not even Elvira can keep me from thinking about you, baby.”

Your face is burning. “What is wrong with you?”

“Oh, there’s a lot wrong with me,” he says, rubbing his nose against yours. “But there’s not a damn thing wrong with your body, and I’m gonna be right here until you think the same.” He gives you one chaste kiss and pulls back. 

“But Billy, my ass is–”

“Amazing? I’ve seen it in those jeans you wear all the time. Shit is mind boggling, baby.”

“Jesus fucking christ.”

His giggles taper out, and then he’s looking at you all gently again, like you’re the most precious thing in the entire goddamn universe. “You gotta quit comparing yourself to other people, okay? Doesn’t do you any good, and I know that. This is the only body you’re gonna get, and you deserve to love on it a little.” 

You run your hands down your face. “I just wish I believed that.”

Billy leans down and smacks a kiss to your knee. 

“Hate seein’ you like this, you know? You’re the prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. The way you’re told you should look? It’s all idealized and stereotypical bullshit, and it isn’t fair for you to look at yourself and pick every little thing apart because it doesn’t look like some chick in a porno mag or a comic book drawn by some horny, middle-aged man.” 

He’s fired up now, genuinely hurting for you, and he’s talking with his hands. That gets you every time. 

You might be snotty, your cheeks might feel tight from where the tears have dried, but seeing him be so passionate about making you feel better gets a little grin out of you. 

Billy catches it, that itty bitty quirk of your lips, and he moves in until his face is inches from yours. It’s supposed to be intimidating. 

“The fuck are you grinning about?”

Your grin turns into a full, teary smile. 

“You expecting a kiss or something?” he teases, thumb dragging over your lashes, separating them where they’d clumped together with moisture. 

“I was gonna give you one, actually.” Your eyes start to prickle again. “Because I don’t deserve you—”

Billy covers your mouth with his hand. “Listen, if there’s anyone who doesn’t deserve someone, it’s me—”

You do the same to him in an instant, only he smacks his lips against your palm, winking just for good measure. You roll your eyes.

Both of you remove your hands at the same time, and then you really do kiss him. A sweet press of your mouth that tells him…everything. 

You pull away, and he’s still looking at you like you hung the fucking stars.

“I’m sorry for keeping all of this in, Billy. It’s so suffocating sometimes, and I get so angry with myself for looking like this. I just imagine that I’d be so much happier with someone else’s body.”

“But if you had someone else’s body, you wouldn’t be you anymore. You wouldn’t be my girl.” 

You nod, trying not to let the voices win. Trying not to think about how you look in the mirror versus how you wish you looked. How if you had different features it might be better. 

“Just can’t help thinkin’ you should be with someone that looks nicer than I do.” 

“But I want you, okay? I love you exactly the way that you are.”

“Okay,” you respond, voice shaky. 

“Can I hug you?” Billy asks.

“Yeah. Yeah.”

Billy pulls you into his arms, squeezing you tightly against him. He has this way of getting you out of your head, of making you feel like the two of you are all that matter.

You’ve both risen up onto your knees, the mattress dipping around you. Billy’s hands are rubbing all over your back. 

He leans his head back a little, making sure he catches your attention before he dips his chin down to gesture at where the both of your chests meet. 

“They don’t feel gross to me.”

You heave a sigh, pulling away from him completely, and trying to ignore how proud he looks of himself.

“We’re gonna keep workin’ on this, alright? I’m not letting you hate on yourself so much anymore.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Billy rolls his eyes, but you give him a hopeful, yet sad, smile, all the confirmation he’s looking for. That you’ll try. 

“So what else about the beach is it that you’re worried about? I’ll buy you a fucking umbrella, I swear. And if you go, I’ll let you drive.”

Your eyes widen, and Billy knows he’s just won you over. He knows that you have a soft spot for his car, and he’ll do anything to keep you happy.

————

“You aren’t upset that you’re not going?”

“No, not really. I mean, I like it there, but I’ve never had the same attachment to it as Billy has.”

Max slings another swimsuit over her arm. You decided that you really wanted to try and find one you might be comfortable in. Billy said you didn’t have to swim, even if he didn’t want you to overheat, but you’re determined to find something. And Max had happily offered to help you while Billy worked on finding you both a place to stay.

Every once in a while, Max will hold one up to you, as if contemplating the color, and then decide she wants you to try it on without asking, knowing you’ll argue with her.

“Do you miss it?” 

She shrugs her shoulders, nodding towards the dressing rooms and leading the way. She’s holding substantially more swimsuits than you are, and you know you’ll be trying on every single one.

“Sometimes? I miss my family. And I think even for Billy it’s mostly about his mom. California was the last place he was sort of…happy. But I like Hawkins, you know? And even if he likes it better now too, I’ve never been as determined to go back as he is.”

You pause outside the dressing room, clutching the slippery fabric harder than necessary. “I understand. Anything you want me to bring back for you?” 

Max opens the door for you and starts hanging up suits on the hooks provided. She grins. “I’ll never say no to a prize. Now stop stalling, and get in here.” 

You do as she says, and make her choose which one to try first, just to make it easier on yourself. 

Max closes her eyes while you change, but when she hears the shuffling stop and a sniffling replaces it, she moves her hands. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” She stands up next to you.

You’re crying, but you’re trying so, so hard not to let the tears slip out. “I’m sorry,” you say, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes. “I just haven’t seen my body like this in a long time, and I feel like I look so ugly.” 

She grabs your wrists and gently pulls them away from your face. 

“You don’t look ugly. You look great.” 

Max turns you so that you’re facing the mirror again. Your hands fly to your stomach, and you start to poke at it. She watches you pull at the skin of your hips, trying to see what it’d look like if there was less of it. 

“Don’t do that,” she scolds you. You let your hands fall to your sides, and she catches the stray tear before it can slide down your cheek. She’s being much too nice to you. 

“You don’t think that’s gross?” you question, criticizing your body in the mirror, comparing it to the stockpile of other bodies you’ve got in your brain. 

Max puts her hands on her hips. “No, I don’t think it’s gross. I think you look hot.”

You scoff, pulling at one of the straps. It’s a one- piece, in a color you really like, because you’re too scared to show your tummy right now. There’s a voice in the back of your head that says it looks just fine, but you ignore it. 

“You can’t really think that, Max.”

“Oh, but I can, and I do. So, you’re just gonna have to live with that. And Billy told me about your problems with your body—he’s got a big mouth, you know that? But I wanted to tell you that my hips look like that too. It’s normal.” 

She’s standing like Steve, determined to have you believe her. Determined to be there for you. 

“I think you should get this one,” she continues. “I know you like it.”

“I don’t know, Max.”

“Then try on a few more, okay? Don’t let your thoughts stop you from picking out something you like. As long as it’s comfortable, that’s all that matters. You have a great body, and you deserve to go to the beach with your boyfriend and wear a swimsuit.”

She flops down on the bench, an encouraging smile gracing her face when she reaches up and shoves another bathing suit into your hands. 

Max Mayfield is very convincing when she wants to be. Not only do you keep the tears at bay for the rest of the trip, you also end up getting the first one, as well as one she slipped in your basket at the last second because it “Looked too kickass not to buy.”

————

“You make a very pretty passenger princess, you know.”

Billy rolls his eyes, and even if you can’t exactly see the gesture with your own glued to the road, you feel the disturbance. He smacks his hand against your bare thigh and leaves it there, even if it is too hot for skin-to-skin contact. You know if it weren’t for the air conditioning blasting your face, you might’ve shoved him out of the car. 

“Turn up here, you little shit.”

You’ve made it off of all the main roads, now driving through beach town after beach town. Billy can’t even complain about your driving because well…you’re a good driver. He watches you eye the swankier resorts, the ones with pools and valet parking. He hopes you’ll be happy with the little house he found. It’s not too far from where he grew up, and he’d been pleased about being somewhat familiar with the area. 

The sound of gravel under the tires makes you feel safe. Billy directs you towards your destination, and when you park the car, you feel like you might cry. 

The house is small, sure, but it’s welcoming. The neighborhood isn’t suffocatingly full, either. Sure, there are other homes, some larger than others with their big balconies and wrap-around porches, but it feels…nice. 

You turn off the engine and get out. Billy walks around the other side of the car and wraps his arms around your waist. “You wanna go look around? I’ll come back and get our shit in a minute.”

You spin around and smack a kiss to his forehead. If his cheeks weren’t already red from the heat, he knows they would be simply from your affection. You nod, and Billy takes your hand, leading up the little set of stairs to the door. 

He bends over. “The lady on the phone said the key was under the mat.” He comes back up with the metal in hand. 

“The lady on the phone?” you wonder. 

Billy pushes the door open. “Yeah, it’s like an old ass couple renting this place out. She practically told me her whole life story the other day.” You grin and hook your fingers in his belt loops, letting him pull you around inside the house. 

It really is cozy. One bedroom, two and a half bathrooms. Comfy little barstools and a sweet couch. The part you’re really excited about is the porch. Excited enough that you separate from Billy and pull the sliding glass doors open to step outside. 

You can see the beach. It might take a little bit to walk down there, but you can see it. Which means you can watch the sunset. 

“You like it?” Billy leans against the doorframe behind you. You can hear the smile in his voice. 

“I really do.”

He pulls you in for a kiss then, lips warm and a little chapped against yours. 

“So, I have this plan.” You raise an eyebrow, clearly a little frightened by that idea. He grins, and kisses you again, trying to shut you up, you know. “There’s a board shop not far from here that closes in…” He pauses, looking at his watch. “An hour and a half. I was gonna rent one so that I can surf tomorrow. Do you wanna go with me or stay here?”

You look over at the bench tucked into the corner of the porch. The cushion looks very comfortable, and you did bring a book. He knows what you’re doing to say before you even say it. 

“I think I’ll stay here.”

“That’s cool, baby. I can pick up dinner?” He squeezes at your hips. 

“That would be nice.”

You reach around and slip your hands into his back pockets. He won’t say it, but you seem a little lighter now that you’re here. Like you aren’t so panicked about the prospect of vacation, but rather content to be there with him. It’s as if you know he’s going to take real good care of you–which he is. 

“That way you can explore, right?” he teases. You’re like a cat that way. You have to check everything out first before you really settle down. 

“Right.” You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, and he pats around on your ass, looking for his keys. When he secures them, he gives it a firm smack, just while he can get away with it, and then he’s moving away from you. 

But he’s right. You do feel a little more content. Maybe even comfortable.

————

“Be fucking still, William.”

“It’s cold,” he bites back. 

You’re rubbing sunscreen all over his back, and even if you’ve already covered the rest of him in it, and helped him tie his hair up into a sweet little bun, he’s destined to be the whiniest man in all of existence. You know for a fact that it isn’t that cold, considering he’d put it on you minutes before. 

“There.” You push your hand into the skin of his neck, making sure you’ve got every spot. You refuse to listen to him fuss about a sunburn. “I’m all done.”

 Billy turns around to face you, placing his sunglasses up on the top of his head. “Ready to get going then?”

“If by ready to watch you eat shit, then yes.”

Billy aligns his face with yours, locking eyes and everything. “I’m not gonna eat shit.”

“Eh,” you shrug, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “I bet you will.”

He kisses your shoulder over the t-shirt you’re wearing. He still hasn’t seen the swimsuit you’ve put on, and you’re trying to postpone it for as long as possible. It’s a miracle you didn’t cry getting it on, but you tried to remember what Max had said, how sweet Billy had been when you’d come clean about your insecurities. It is comfortable, at least. You just feel all sorts of wrong wearing it. But you can’t let that ruin this whole trip. It’s not worth it. 

“Come on, grumpy pants. Get a move on.”

When you finally make it to the beach, you’re so hot and sticky you could beat the shit out of him right then and there. There’s no way this is actually enjoyable for people. Definitely not in this heat. 

Billy has left to retrieve an umbrella and a chair for you, insisting he can just sit on a towel. By the time he gets back, you’re full on pouting. It makes him laugh. You cross your arms and watch him work the umbrella into the sand. 

He finishes and reaches a hand out to pull you up from where you’d plopped on top of the towel bag. “It’s so hot,” you whine, faking tears. 

He just keeps laughing. “I know. That’s why you’re gonna come in the water with me, and then you’ll cool off and you can come sit here and watch me eat shit.”

He pulls his shirt off over his head. Your eyes wander all over his torso, soaking in every inch of skin, every freckle and scar. “I thought you weren’t gonna eat shit,” you argue, leaning in to kiss the raised patch on his chest. 

You wish you could be as confident about your body as he is sometimes. Things got really hard for Billy after Starcourt, but at some point something just snapped, and he decided he should show off the messy scars. He takes care of them as best as he can, much better care than he ever thought he would, and they are looking better.

You even wish that you could love on your own the way you do his. But that’s just not the case. 

“Yeah, well I probably will eat shit, so.” He gestures towards your shirt. “You gonna swim in that?” His eyes drop to your bare thighs. No one should be allowed to look that sweet.

“Um…no.” You tentatively grab the hem of your shirt and pull it off quickly, trying to rip off the bandaid. When you’re done, Billy has to remember to keep his mouth closed, his jaw having legitimately dropped. 

“Holy shit. This is the body you’ve been so mean to?”

“If you don’t stop, I’m gonna put the shirt back on.” 

He steps closer to you. He’s gawking. “No! Please don’t. You look hot, baby.”

You’re not sure anyone has ever called you hot before. Certainly not whilst in an item of clothing that doesn’t leave much to the imagination, even if you are pretty damn covered. It’s a little bit higher cut on the sides than you’re used to, but it holds everything in well. You feel exposed. If you think about it for too long you’ll probably just throw up. 

You put your hands over your belly and tilt your head, smushing your cheek into your shoulder. “Billy,” you fuss. 

He removes your hands and instead takes them in him, pulling you down the beach with him. When you get to the water, Billy watches you wade out until it’s knee deep, trying to keep his eyes away from your ass. 

He thinks you look fucking radiant like this. And he’s never actually even said that word. You’re looking down, probably for sand dollars or little fish. Billy takes this opportunity to look at your body. Not in a judgemental way by any means, but simply because he’s never gotten to see it like this. You’re being vulnerable with him, and that means more than anything else could. 

Billy wades out a little further than you and disappears beneath the waves for just a moment. When he emerges you think this is what people must have thought about Achilles. He is breathtakingly gorgeous, and it simply isn’t fair. You can’t believe that you have him. 

Billy walks you back to your umbrella and gets you nice and shielded from the sun before he heads back out to attempt surfing. He might’ve been messing with you, but it has been a few years, and he really might get his ass handed to him by the ocean. 

You’re eating a popsicle when he finally catches a wave, after having tried and failed for a little while. It’s impressive to see him up there like that, especially when you can’t even comprehend how he does it. 

You might hate the heat, and you might hate the fact that there’s sand up your ass, but you think you could sit here and watch Billy surf for hours with no complaint. It’s like he’s in his element, way more than when he played basketball. You can tell that he knows what he’s doing, that he sort of listens to the water and obeys. 

You allow yourself to imagine a future like this. One where maybe you can come back during the summers, just the two of you or maybe with Max and a friend of hers. You could never give up snow, so it couldn’t be permanent, but you could do it for Billy.

You could do anything if it meant getting to see him so happy. If it meant getting to feel so loved and so safe. It is your greatest honor to be loved by Billy Hargrove, a boy that everyone thought was incapable of loving. 

————

“Motherfucker.”

Billy’s voice echoes in the bathroom, reaching you where you lay in the bed. You can’t see him from where you are. 

It’s been a few days, and it’s gotten easier to put on that swimsuit. To look at yourself in the mirror. You’ve done a lot of thinking, a lot of listening. You might even say you’ve learned from Billy during this trip. Not that you’d boost his ego by telling him so.  

He rushes out of the bathroom and flops down in front of you, holding his hand aloft.  “Baby, I need help. I got a splinter from your goddamn umbrella. I can’t get it out.”

“What do you say, Hargrove?” You sit up, taking the tweezers from him with an evil grin on your face. 

“Pretty please?”

“That’s it.”

The second you get your eyes on the splinter, you know he just wanted attention from you. It’s big, and he could’ve just pulled it out with his fingernails. But you’re touched he wanted your help. That says a lot more than he probably realizes. 

You grip the edge of the teeny wood piece and gently pull it out from under his skin. You place it in the palm of his hand. “Ta-da.”

He snorts, and you kiss the tip of his finger. “All better now?”

“Yep.”

He slips into bed with you soon after, and you can’t help but sit up on your knees, just so you can get a good look at him. 

The freckles under his eyes have become loads more prominent, and they spread over his shoulders and collarbones like someone’s dumped glitter all over him. 

He lets you look at him, too, just admiring you in the moment. You look sleepy, beat from being out all day, from driving around to see where Billy grew up, but he thinks you’ve never looked prettier. He tells you so and you use his hand to shield your face. 

It makes Billy laugh, and he pushes your head gently, knowing you’ll go all dramatic and fall back, and when you do you end up in his lap. 

You curl up like a cat, wrapping your arms around him so you can rest your head on his tummy and splay your fingers out over his warm back. You change positions quickly though, propping your chin up with your hands. 

“Thank you for coming with me,” Billy says, swiping a thumb over the apple of your cheek. It’s a light enough touch that it tickles.

“Don’t have to thank me. I wanted to.”

He exhales. “I know, but I also know it’s been hard for you, being in your head all the time.”

“It’s okay. You’re helping.”

He smirks. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhm.” You scoot up and tuck yourself into his side. You might not even need a blanket with all the heat he radiates. “Much too good to me,” you mutter, kissing his chest. 

“You deserve it.”

He feels you grin against his skin, bashful as ever no matter how long you’ve known each other. 

Billy moves onto his side and entangles himself with you, holding you tight to his chest. 

You reciprocate the hold, squeezing a little to tell him you love him. “Thank you for bringing me home. I can see how happy you are here.”

“I’d be happy anywhere as long as you were there too.”

You snort. “That’s so cheesy.”

“It’s true, though.” 

“I know it is.” You’re silent for a minute before you remember. “We gotta get Max a prize before we leave.”

“Oh yeah, bring the little shit a gift.”

“She deserves a prize for having helped me pick out a bathing suit.”

Billy contemplates your statement. “Hm. Yeah, that works. So what do I get then, huh?”

“My eternal love.”

“Oh. I was hoping you’d like, take me to dinner or something.”

“Talk about being a little shit,” you mumble, sleep taking over. For the first time, you aren’t worried about going to the beach tomorrow. You aren’t worried about what squish Billy might be able to feel, holding you like this. You feel comfortable. Maybe you’re not completely in love with yourself, but with Billy around, you might get there one day. For now, that’s enough. It’s more than enough. 

“Eternal love it is then.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

[juniperhillpatient]

Seeing people already saying how Shauna is insane how Melissa was healing or how Melissa was somehow not in a sham of a marriage - unlike Shauna who was. Taking Melissa’s talk of how great her life is & how going to church & stuff is great at face value….

Did we watch the same episode? Have we been watching the same show?

Not to be a total Shauna simp but Shauna is literally RIGHT. Melissa IS deluded to think her life is normal. She married the daughter of her fucking murder victim y’all 😭 Her wife doesn’t even know her real fucking name!!!! That girl who got off to Shauna holding a knife to her throat is still in there. That teenage girl who enjoyed slicing a man’s Achilles heal is still fucking in there. You can’t trick me!!!

And I’ve BEEN saying it!!! I’ve been saying this WHOLE season how I KNEW Melissa was secretly alive in the adult timeline AND that she would probably delude herself into blaming Shauna for everything despite her very active role in the atrocities.

I saw the theories on how Melissa would come in & blow up Shaunas normal boring life with Jeff & Callie but I always kinda felt that didn’t make sense & it was going the opposite way & I was RIGHT. It’s Shauna blowing up Melissa’s life & that just feels so much more right. Shauna destroys everything she loves & I think that’s so hot & tragic of her.

Sorry if this is incoherent I kinda blacked out because evil toxic lesbians coming in & out of each others lives codependently & destructively, faked deaths & cannibalism are my favorite things in this entire world & I went a little insane for this episode

[maruyaaya]

talking about my neoptolemus/telemachus wip bc idk how to shut the fuck up!!!

SO the dynamic between neoptolemus and telemachus in my wip is essentially that neoptolemus is in love with telemachus from their first meeting, but he’s convinced that telemachus is too good for him and that he destroys everything he touches so he masks that with cruelty and pretends that he hates telemachus. telemachus is at first, drawn to neo and really likes him, but then neo starts being cruel in his attempts to push telemachus away and that gets telemachus to genuinely hate neo. it’s like a one-sided enemies to lovers. neo wants really badly to hate telemachus, but he can’t find it in him to not love this boy who he thinks shines like the sun. telemachus, on the other hand, just hates neo and he blames neo for ruining this friendship that they could have had.

their relationship basically flips back and forth between neo saying some unintentionally soft shit and when telemachus is like “what” neo just immediately says “but you’re also a weak dumbass so. fuck you.” neo is such a girlfailure in this fic he doesn’t know how to handle emotions AT ALL. he’s grown very special to me in the course of writing this fic which is very funny bc prior to starting this fic, i actually did not care for neo in the slightest before i started writing this fic. i only cared abt him as an extension to achilles bc achilles is my fav greek mythology figure ever. THEN AGAINST ALL ODDS, neo charmed me while writing this fic. like these are some tweets from my priv twt where you can see me progress from not caring at all abt neo to seeing him as my little babygirl son

so yes, i was charmed by my socially awkward son neoptolemus. he’s such a little freak. my favourite headcanon is that maybe in another less angsty fic than the one i’m writing rn, neo wants to flirt with telemachus and bc he’s emotionally inept like his father, he decides the best way to do that is to ask telemachus to spar with him and bc he hates losing, he goes all out and beats telemachus up. it’s like

neo, internally, after punching telemachus in the face: yes, our courtship is progressing magnificently

telemachus, clutching his bloody nose, trying to figure out why neo hates him:

LIKE THEYRE SO FUNNY TO ME!! i love them sm.

but anyways back to the specifics of my fic. they don’t get to be quite as silly in my fic. essentially what happens is that neo hears of odysseus returning to ithaca and decides to visit. there, he meets telemachus and is immediately charmed because he’s such a little loser. telemachus invites neo back to the palace for dinner and neo ends up getting in an argument with odysseus that ends with him going “I WILL TRAIN TELEMACHUS.” and odysseus does not want that to happen so ofc, telemachus says he wants neo to train him.

and the plotline is basically neo and telemachus’ relationship progressing as neo trains telemachus. it’s full of a lot of really sexually charged sparring and angry arguments.

some of you may be wondering why i refer to neoptolemus as neoptolemus always and not pyrrhus even though pyrrhus is his original name. well in my head, pyrrhus is the name that he’s given at birth by deidamia and neoptolemus is the name he takes up when he goes to war because he feels like he’s become a different person. neo struggling between his two names is actually going to be quite a plot point in this fic

because this fic is just as much a character study of neoptolemus as it is a ship fic between neo and telemachus. i spend a lot of time exploring his relationship with his parents and also his relationship with odysseus. it’s neo’s desire to piss off odysseus in the first place that gets him to stay in ithaca with telemachus. i really want to spend a lot of time exploring neo as a character bc so often, people write him as just being needlessly cruel, but i feel like it’s important to remember that he was just a kid when he was brought into war. he has this legacy from achilles that he needs to live up to, but he’s never even met achilles and how are you supposed to live up to the legacy of the greatest of the greeks? how would it ever be possible to make someone like achilles proud? neo’s grappling with his self-worth and identity a lot during this fic.

so far this fic is about 22k words and it’s very special to me. in the vision i’ve created in my head, we’re about 1/4 done but i make no promises because you all know me and how awful i am at sticking to the word counts that i imagine. it could be much shorter, it could be much longer. i don’t make plans. i just sit down in front of my google docs and bleed.

i’ve also been making plans for a little modern au neo/telemachus fic BECAUSEEE i really want to write that little neo and achilles exchange that i mentioned in my last post abt neomachus (teleneo? idk what their ship name is but i like calling them neomachus). my vice is creating wips and never finishing them tho so idk when (or if) i’ll write that modern au.

i guess i’ll end this little infodump off with some fun exchanges between neo and telemachus that i really like in this fic. they’re just so special to me <3

i will absolutely talk abt this fic more in the future as i continue writing bc im so obsessed with it rn. i will do my best to finish it asap but every time i think more about it, it gets longer.

(ALSO the title of the fic is “someday i know you’ll come to your senses” which comes from the song senses by mico who is, yes, the guy who plays telemachus in epic the musical. what can i say? i like it when things come full circle (it’s also a really fucking good song. everyone stream internet hometown hero by mico))

(none of these excerpts are edited or anything btw. if there are any typos please keep that to yourself or i might die of embarrassment)

edit as of 15/01/25: THIS FIC HAS BEEN POSTED!! you can find it HERE!! :D