#drops this and sprints

[pixelart203]

Dregnacy idea where George calls Dream an avocado (affectionately) and Dream gets super upset and hormonal because he knows George doesn’t like avocado and thinks that’s George’s secret way of saying he doesn’t like him anymore

[inkskinned]

so one of the things that's so horrifying about birth control is that you have to, like, navigate this incredibly personal choice about your body and yet also face the epitome of misogyny. like, someone in the comments will say it wasn't that bad for me, and you'll be utterly silenced. like, everyone treats birth control like something that's super dirty. like, you have no fucking information or control over this thing because certain powerful people find it icky.

first it was the oral contraceptives. you went on those young, mostly for reasons unrelated to birth control - even your dermatologist suggested them to control your acne. the list of side effects was longer than your arm, and you just stared at it, horrified.

it made you so mentally ill, but you just heard that this was adulthood. that, yes, there are of course side effects, what did you expect. one day you looked up yasmin makes me depressed because surely this was far too intense, and you discovered that over 12,000 lawsuits had been successfully filed against the brand. it remains commonly prescribed on the open market. you switched brands a few times before oral contraceptives stopped being in any way effective. your doctor just, like, shrugged and said you could try a different brand again.

and the thing is that you're a feminist. you know from your own experience that birth control can be lifesaving, and that even when used for birth control - it is necessary healthcare. you have seen it save so many people from such bad situations, yourself included. it is critical that any person has access to birth control, and you would never suggest that we just get rid of all of it.

you were a little skeeved out by the implant (heard too many bad stories about it) and figured - okay, iud. it was some of the worst pain you've ever fucking experienced, and you did it with a small number of tylenol in your system (3), like you were getting your bikini line waxed instead of something practically sewn into your body.

and what's wild is that because sometimes it isn't a painful insertion process, it is vanishingly rare to find a doctor that will actually numb the area. while your doctor was talking to you about which brand to choose, you were thinking about the other ways you've been injured in your life. you thought about how you had a suspicious mole frozen off - something so small and easy - and how they'd numbed a huge area. you thought about when you broke your wrist and didn't actually notice, because you'd thought it was a sprain.

your understanding of pain is that how the human body responds to injury doesn't always relate to the actual pain tolerance of the person - it's more about how lucky that person is physically. maybe they broke it in a perfect way. maybe they happened to get hurt in a place without a lot of nerve endings. some people can handle a broken femur but crumble under a sore tooth. there's no true way to predict how "much" something actually hurts.

in no other situation would it be appropriate for doctors to ignore pain. just because someone can break their wrist and not feel it doesn't mean no one should receive pain meds for a broken wrist. it just means that particular person was lucky about it. it should not define treatment.

in the comments of videos about IUDs, literally thousands of people report agony. blinding, nauseating, soul-crushing agony. they say things like i had 2 kids and this was the worst thing i ever experienced or i literally have a tattoo on my ribs and it felt like a tickle. this thing almost killed me or would rather run into traffic than ever feel that again.

so it's either true that every single person who reports severe pain is exaggerating. or it's true that it's far more likely you will experience pain, rather than "just a pinch." and yet - there's nothing fucking been done about it. it kind of feels like a shrug is layered on top of everything - since technically it's elective, isn't it kind of your fault for agreeing to select it? stop being fearmongering. stop being defensive.

you fucking needed yours. you are almost weirdly protective of it. yours was so important for your physical and mental health. it helped you off hormonal birth control and even started helping some of your symptoms. it still fucking hurt for no fucking reason.

once while recovering from surgery, they offered you like 15 days of vicodin. you only took 2 of them. you've been offered oxy for tonsillitis. you turned down opioids while recovering from your wisdom tooth extraction. everything else has the option. you fucking drove yourself home after it, shocked and quietly weeping, feeling like something very bad had just happened. the nurse that held your hand during the experience looked down at you, tears in her eyes, and said - i know. this is cruelty in action.

and it's fucked up because the conversation is never just "hey, so the way we are doing this is fucking barbaric and doctors should be required to offer serious pain meds" - it's usually something around the lines of "well, it didn't kill you, did it?"

you just found out that removing that little bitch will hurt just as bad. a little pinch like how oral contraceptives have "some" serious symptoms. like your life and pain are expendable or not really important. like maybe we are all hysterical about it?

hysteria comes from the latin word for uterus, which is great!

you stand here at a crossroads. like - this thing is so important. did they really have to make it so fucking dangerous. and why is it that if you make a complaint, you're told - i didn't even want you to have this in the first place. we're told be careful what you wish for. we're told that it's our fault for wanting something so illict; we could simply choose not to need medication. that maybe if we don't like the scraps, we should get ready to starve.

we have been saying for so long - "i'm not asking you to remove the option, i'm asking you to reconsider the risk." this entire time we hear: well, this is what you wanted, isn't it?

[olliedollie1204]

[enviedear]

MNDI. ADULT CONTENT

JASON TODD has always been a man of action, more comfortable with his efforts than with his words. but when it comes to you, he’ll say anything just to hear you. it’s your voice—those quiet, almost hushed intonations, and those bated breathless sounds—those wreck him in ways he didn’t think possible. he craves it, like he needs it, needing to hear every gasp, every soft moan, the way you breathe his name when you’re close to falling apart.

he’s learned what makes you tick, too. the spots that draw out the little whimpers he can’t get enough of. when he’s hovering over you, his mouth tracing down your neck, kissing your pressure points. he’ll slow down just to hear how your breathing changes, how it gets shaky the second his lips hit that sweet spot above your clavicle. sometimes he’ll tease you on purpose, dragging it out, using his fingers or mouth in that maddening rhythm—slow, deliberate, almost lazy—just to watch you squirm and hear the frustrated moan you let out when you can’t take it anymore.

and it’s not just about touching you. when he’s inside you, it’s a whole other level. he’ll thrust in slow at first, setting a torturous pace just so he can savor every sound that slips from your lips. the way you say his name, like it’s the only thing grounding you, drives him near mad. he’ll lean in close, lips brushing your ear, his voice low and rough as he whispers, “c’mon, baby, let me hear you.” and the moment you do—when you can’t hold back anymore, when your moans fill the air and your nails dig into his skin—jason’s gone. completely lost in the way you sound, in the way you’re unraveling beneath him. lost in the beauty of you, natural and unabashed. perfect.

he’ll push harder, faster even sometimes, not because he’s in a hurry but because he’s chasing that moment where you’re so overwhelmed you can’t keep quiet. he’s selfish for it, he knows. but you keen so pretty and pull him so close, so right. when you finally shatter, when your voice ceases and you’re gasping for him, it’s like a switch flips in him. he’ll growl your name, holding you impossibly close to him, giving you exactly what you need, because for him, it’s all about hearing you fall apart. he finds nothing better than being enough for you, hell, too much for you.

[extreme-dyke-syndrome]

Able-Bodied: "You're too YOUNG to have bad joints!"

Me: "Oh hold on, let me just-" *jumps out of bed and starts dancing like the grandpa in "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory"

[madhattervanessa]

Caress

Summary: Life with Simon settles into a routine- but it has to end at some point.

Warnings: (Unedited filth lmao bc I didn't want to wait to post this) Simon being very casually dominant, oral (f receiving), bit of rimming, light anal, P in V, hair pulling, biting, creampie

Words: 1766

A/N: Another another another, and two more down the line. This train is bound to stop sometime soon but until then....

Requests are open as always.

Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

prev. Part - next Part

-

Life settles into something absurdly… Normal, after.

After being after Simon had hauled all of your clothes over to his apartment because he had assembled a second dresser in his bedroom next to his own for you.

There had been glimpses of Simon looming over you in your day to day life before but now you can hardly escape the man.

Not that you would want to. 

The store clerk that usually tries to chat you up while you shop for groceries took one good look at the shadow looming over your shoulder and promptly turned the other way.

When Simon picks you up from veteran’s meetings, he always holds your hand as he drives, not even bothering to let go when he shifts gears.

The mask he wears in public doesn’t bother you. It comes off in his apartment, after all.

Or the moment he ate you out on the side of a field because you had fed him a strawberry in his car before murmuring about how you’d thought he’d deserved a reward for picking you up from work. That was enough cause for him to ruck his mask down, too.

It also made for a pleasant dream.

You smile as you open your eyes. It’s still dark outside, the wind howling as it blows through the town. You stretch your body as you rub at your eyes and hear Simon shuffle behind you. He wraps an arm around you to pull you against him. You nudge him with your foot, checking to see if he’s awake.

He grunts in response.

You lift a hand to let it ruffle his damp hair. Blonde, cropped-short.

“Are you leaving again?”

He leans into your touch when you start to put some pressure into your pets, gently massaging his head as you yawn.

“Eager to get rid of me?” His breath feels hot on your cheek, smelling a bit like stale coffee. He trails his lips over your neck until you feel the point of his crooked nose against your skin.

“Don’t know how much longer I can take you fucking me like an animal”, you sigh. He grabs your hand and presses a quick kiss to it.

“‘m set to leave at the end of the week.” Your answering hum is quickly turned into a squeal when Simon pulls you until you are lying underneath him.

His breaths hit your ear and there’s a telltale throb that answers from your legs when he asks you if you think you’ll be able to handle him until then.

You hum and it turns into a whine when he drags his teeth over your neck.

Your breath hitches when he drags the covers off of you and starts making his way down your spine.

“Simon…”

He bites into one of your asscheeks. You squeak in surprise and immediately bury your face in the pillows when you hear him chuckle.

“Spread your legs.”

You blush and hesitate but Simon’s warm hands are already parting your legs. He pushes one of them into the back of your knee, pushing it towards your chest. 

His nose nudges against the swell of your asscheek and you arch your back a little more.

“Mh. Pretty.”

“Si-”, you whine, your cheeks burning already, even though you can’t see the way Simon is staring at you. 

“Can I have a taste?” He is already letting his thumb nudge at the puffy lips of your pussy. “Yeah?”

“Mhm, yes”, you sigh.

He grunts and you jump when you feel his nose nudge against your hole as his tongue licks a broad stripe over your pussy. You sigh and bite at your lip as he repeats the motion, slowly spreading your slick over your pussy before he starts to lick your clit.

He is relentless, always hungry for you- there are already wet sounds from your pussy rubbing against his nose. His wide palms are pulling your cheeks apart as he buries himself in your pussy. When he starts suckling on your clit, he lets his thumb dip inside of your pussy, finally giving you something to clench around.

It’s the focus that turns you on the most- when Simon has sex with you, you feel like the center of the world. The way he focuses on every hitch of your breath, every jump and twitch of muscle as he works you over until he gets it perfect.

You can’t help but jump a little when he pulls your pussy open with his thumb before dragging his tongue over it.

He sits back, his thumb continuing to fuck into you as he does.

“Good girl”, he groans. The wet sounds behind you have you lifting your head from the pillows. Simon’s eyes are still fixed on your pussy as he fists his cock. 

You see his jaw work and watch as he spits onto your pussy. His thumb collects his spit and you feel his thumb travel up. Your brows furrow and you watch, equally confused and aroused, as he circles your asshole with his thumb.

When he pushes it inside a little, you let out a breathy, wet gasp. He continues stroking himself and finally, his eyes meet yours. When you don't protest, he pushes his thumb down with a little more pressure.

“Simon- fuck-... fuck me.”

He hums and slaps the tip of his cock against your pussy, making you whine into the pillow in front of you again, already bracing for him just before he pushes the tip inside of your pussy.

“Fuck love,” he groans. He is careful as he spreads your slick over his cock in shallow thrusts, splitting you apart.

His hand grips hard at your hip as he bottoms out, really making you feel the stretch before he starts to gently roll his hips. You moan and when the next thrust hits you, you go lax in his sheets, blindly trusting him to keep fucking you and keep an eye out for you.

“There you go. You like having somethin’ in your ass, too, hm?”

You just nod weakly, fully focused on the delicious drag of his thick cock in and out of your pussy. Another wet glob of spit meets your ass and he is quick to push it in with his thumb. He moans as he manages to nudge it inside you up to his first knuckle.

You feel unbelievably full, your nerves lit from your head to your toes as you let him pound into you.

“Gonna miss you”, he groans, his second hand grabbing desperately at your hip as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“Not just because of this”, he adds before molding himself to your back. He grinds into you, fucking you with his cock and his thumb as he smothers you into the sheets. His teeth scrape over your shoulder and you take a shuddering breath. 

“Simon-!” Is all you manage but he seems to know just what you need, his second hand reaching underneath you to play with your clit.

He is crushing you with his weight on you but it just feels too good to care about.

Your head swims as you feel yourself rapidly approaching an orgasm. Another pitiful moan follows and you feel the rumble of Simon’s groan as you bear down on him to ride out the sharp spikes of pleasure running through you.

He doesn’t stop. Just slows down, biting lazily into your back. You cry out as he starts to lean back, one of your hands reaching for him.

He catches your hand with his and leans down to press a kiss to it.

“Feel good, love?”, he asks, still going slow, but his deep thrusts are making your eyes cross.

“Uhuh, yeah- fuck- s’good, Si.”

"Yeah.." , he groans, the self-satisfied rumble incensing you for a moment. But then you feel him reaching over until his fingers are gliding through your hair over the back of your neck until they reach the back of your head.

A careful tug has you following his directioning upward. You arch your back and reach out to hold on to the headboard. He leans towards you until you are pressed up against his chest. He continues fucking into you and the angle makes him feel bigger, like he is bulging through your stomach.

Your mouth is hanging open as you pant, trying to keep up with his deep thrusts. You reach back to hold on to his wrist.

"P-Pull harder", you manage. Simon grunts and puts some more strength into his grip, eliciting a deep groan from you. The sharp sting is just enough to make you come again.

The reaction is instant; Simon goes rigid as you grind back against him more, a helpless curse falling from his lips as his thrusts become short and stunted.

He pulls you away from your leverage until you are pressed up entirely against him. He bites down onto your shoulder and fucks up into you, ridiculously overstimulating you, before you feel him twitch and cum inside.

He wraps his arm around your waist and carefully loosens his grip after, still panting heavily. Your head lolls against his shoulder and you feel yourself start to tremble as the tension leaves your body.

He shushes you and presses a gentle kiss to your temple. He lets himself fall back to sit on his legs, pulling you with him.

"You're okay?"

"Uhuh- I just.. I think I need some breakfast", you murmur, still feeling your legs tremble.

"If you can make it to the shower, I'll get something started for you."

He strokes over your arms, rubbing at your legs, slowly bringing you back as you melt into his touch.

"I really want a cinnamon latte. And my back will be killing me after that stunt."

"Okay, love." He presses another wet kiss to your cheek and you smile. You turn your face and catch his jaw in your hand to lead him into a soft kiss.

He hums and leans towards you, making you sway briefly as he all but dips you in the sitting position before pulling you upright.

You're undecided if the motion or the feeling inside of your chest are making your head spin. You open your eyes to find him scooting the two of you towards the edge of the bed.

He helps you get up and you stagger before finding your balance again. When you turn towards him, he slowly scans you until he arrives at your eyes, holding your gaze.

"How long will you be gone for?"

He averts his eyes.

.

[rose-tinted-kalopsia]

≡;-꒰ 𝐉𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀𝐇 ꒱₊˚ ପ⊹ I 𝑺𝒐 𝒊𝒕 𝒈𝒐𝒆𝒔...

╰┈➤ ❝ jeremiah x afab!reader | smut nsfw 18+ mdni

tags : angst, friends with benefits, forbidden love/"we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, hints at friendship betrayal, the pain hits more if you've read main story ch8 and xavier's myth ch5, kissing and making out, mentions of nipple play, mentions of oral (f and m receiving), fingering, clit play, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cumshot, dirty talk, praise, cursing, use of nicknames "pretty" "princess" "milady/my lady", lmk if i missed any tags!

wc : 4.5k

an : LOOK. BEFORE YOU SAY ANYTHING. before you "roxie... what—" me !!!!! writing for him is probably a one-time thing, but listen. he's CUTE!!! and if he's cute, i will write for him...!!!!! (sorry, xavier)

You didn't really know when it started.

After all, what were the odds for you to be strolling around long enough, just to chance across this quaint little flower shop that would eventually became part of your every being?

He'd been arranging some flowers out in the front when you first saw him, light brown, curly hair shining with a gleam under the sunlight. He was humming some kind of tune—it wasn't one you particularly knew, and yet, oddly enough, it was one you found familiar, in ways you couldn't really describe.

In retrospect, the flowers were pretty. Pastel colors blending in with limes and greens, a splash of vibrancy against a largely black exterior. Blues and yellows seemed to be predominant amongst the hues, almost tiny and star-like—a galaxy of flowers, you remember thinking.

And something about it had you easily magnetized.

"Hi!" You'd walked up to him without really thinking; lamely telling yourself in your head, that, hey, maybe your apartment could use some extra decorating...!

(It didn't, but now that you'd approached the florist like this, you felt compelled to at least buy something.)

Jeremiah, however, had been completely spooked by your sudden appearance. One look at you, and his eyes went wide and his humming immediately ceased—you could have sworn a hint of recognition had passed in his eyes, but it was gone before you could truly make out what it was that you saw.

"W-whoah!" he'd laughed, hints of both nervousness and awkwardness glaringly obvious to you—and any busybody that happened to be passing by, for that matter. "Uh!? Sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone so, um... Early?"

You could feel it was a feeble excuse.

Sure, it had been your day off, and sure, maybe it was odd for you to be out and about in the morning at all—but it hadn't been that early. You almost wanted to say something about it out loud... but something in you told you to cut him some slack.

Instead, you'd offered a smile.

"No, I'm sorry. Are you not open yet? You have some beautiful flowers, and I couldn't help but want to look at them a little..."

It was amusing to you how easy his expressions were to read. They had changed seamlessly from bewilderment to joy, and he instantly gestured inside. "Oh! We are open! Wow, maybe I'm just really distracted this morning, haha! But hey, thanks, I'm actually pretty proud if them myself. Though I get some help from a friend in taking care of them, I think they're pretty too..."

You'd known from the start that he was quite the talker, but as a smile played on your lips, you thought that you didn't really mind so much, anyway.

He looked cute, and his voice was just as cute.

But the store, you later realized, would take your breath away in an instant.

The inside was just as majestic as the outside. You found that despite the fact that it looked rather small from a distance, its exterior was actually quite misleading. The inside was beautiful—a floor and a loft worth of flowers, and, you could spot all the way in the back, a door that seemed to be leading out into a garden.

And was that... a greenhouse?!

He had probably noticed the awe on your face when you stepped in, and couldn't help but chuckle. "You like?" he grinned, obvious pride twinkling in his eyes.

"Well... yeah! I can't belive I haven't found this place before. Don't you get a lot of customers?"

"Hmm... Sometimes. Depends on the day, really. But as it goes, if you know the place, then you know, right? Welcome to Philo!"

He turned momentarily before offering you a single yellow blossom, its petals unfurling like puffs in your hand.

You eyed it curiously.

"This, is...?"

"It's a zinnia flower. I thought its colour matched your eyes a little, so think of it as something to keep you company while you look around!"

That day, you picked out a lovely bouquet of little blue periwinkles, and learned that his name was Jeremiah.

From then on, you would chance upon him more, and more, and more—taking the occasional detour whenever you were free, or even timing your lunch breaks enough so to at least be able to catch a glimpse. For the flowers, of course, you would tell yourself, because each visit, Jeremiah would give you a single stem. "On the house!" he would say, and you would smile.

The first day you met, he'd given you a yellow zinnia.

The second day you met, he'd given you a sunflower.

The third day you met, he'd given you a white camellia.

And the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth, and onwards—a single flower, handed over with a dismissive excuse of it going with your hair, or your outfit, or your smile—most often accompanied by a nonchalant remark on how pretty you looked.

Sometimes, after that, you'd talk a little. He would ask you about your day, and you would ask him about his day... You've even learned, by now, the things that he liked. Flowers, a given, but also literature—poetry. Though he remarked that lately he hadn't gotten around to reading anything, he's always been quite fond of them.

You found that these little tidbits made him feel less... mysterious, in a sense, and more real. It went without saying that the more you went over to visit, the longer you'd stay—the longer you'd stay, the louder your heart would beat.

In the end, it wouldn't take long before you realized it yourself, but you were no longer going to Philo for simply... the flowers.

And on one particular night, having made it just in time for closing hours, things had started taking a different turn.

...That night had started off innocent.

Cheerful greetings, cheerful chatter—now, you'd grown accustomed to telling him all about how your day or how your week had gone, and then you would never fail to fluster at the way he'd listen to you so attentively. His eyes, you realized, were almost as bright as the sun—honey-brown like his hair, with specks and glimmers of sapphire when the light hit just right enough. If anything else, you thought that a sunflower suited him better than it did you—the cheerful bounce in his curls, and the way his laugh would tinkle in the air and send butterflies into your stomach without even trying.

Perhaps, down bad was an understatement for you.

But no matter how close you had gotten to this boy, you couldn't help but feel as if there was an unknown barrier between the two of you.

That night, Jeremiah gave you a rose.

Cleaned of its thorns, and as pure and pristine as all the other white flowers he'd housed in his store—he tucked it behind your ear, and his gaze softened in a way that you had never seen before.

The air between you was heavy.

But neither of you would make a definitive move.

"Hey, so how are the flowers all doing?" He broke the silence, but his eyes remained steely on yours.

"I'm... taking care of them like I promised to. I still have that bouquet, and I still have all of the other ones you gave me..."

"Hmm." A smile played at his lips, and then he began to list the recent flowers he'd given to you, for the past couple of weeks of your sporadic visits—

"Let's see. Azalea, petunia, iris, lily... a yellow tulip, some lavender—" He stopped, and amusement shone in his eyes. "Hey, don't tell me you're keeping them all in one vase! And with the others, too? That won't make for a pretty bouquet, you know, the colours will all just clash too much!"

You watched as he laughed, but your eyes only furrowed. "What do you mean? I don't have a greenhouse like you do! Might I remind you that I live in an apartment?!"

"I know, I know! But... You didn't really have to keep them..."

"Why not? They're from you..."

Jeremiah's gaze softened.

And then, again, came that same, pensive silence.

And again, you felt like you were drawn to him.

You couldn't have known why.

Despite whatever butterflies and giddiness he'd often bring upon you, it wasn't as if you'd spent all that much time with him—perhaps, you'd try to visit every week if you could, but that was it, wasn't it? A small chat, a few glances... a flower, and then a wave goodbye—

Yet here you were, like a moth to a flame.

"Penny for your thoughts, milady?" he mumbled out as if to bring you out of your reverie, but it almost seemed to you that he was having the same trepidations.

And that nickname.

He would call you by it often—it fell from his lips almost naturally, and then onto your ears equally as naturally. You've always liked the sound of it, reveling in the way he would treat you so sweetly like this, smiling to yourself at the way his eyes would squint in joy whenever he said it.

But, in this situation....

...Closer.

You chanced it, this feeling, and leaned in.

Jeremiah drew in a shaky breath... but he didn't move.

Instead, his eyes—so telling, his eyes—would move downwards over your face, before settling onto your lips.

"...'Miah," you whispered, and you saw him gulp at the nickname. "Can I kiss you?"

Moths, near a flame, never end well. Surely they don't.

But Jeremiah, despite knowing that, had never been happier to oblige.

That night, was the first night he had kissed you. The first time that both of you had given into the thrumming of temptation always in the air; the first time he had you pressed against his counter, hands roaming fondly over your body, kissing you almost as if his life depended on it.

And from that night forward, things changed substantially.

Weekly visits turned to daily—nightly. Chancing upon closing hours became more planned and deliberate, and then the situation would be the same. Lips crashing upon lips, fingers gripping tightly onto fistfuls of hair, the soft resounding of hushed moans into each others mouths.

You no longer remembered when he started becoming more daring, either. When he started sliding his hands underneath your top, when he started kissing at your neck, fingers rubbing your nipples fondly... You don't remember when you made it into his bedroom, having him trace his hands over your thighs, pushing you apart, fingers slipping into your cunt and sliding through your folds in a way that had you absolutely speechless. Or, neither could you remember how on some nights, he had his head between your legs—licking, and sucking, and eating you out, waves of pleasure coarsing through your veins like never before.

No, at this point, you really didn't remember—how many times your night had been filled with him, how many times you would come all over his mouth—his fingers—

How many times you'd moaned his name.

Perhaps, you thought, it might have been the same for him. Your hands, pumping his cock with fervor, tongue swirling around his tip, drinking up ever last drop of cum he would offer you. You knew, by now, that he loved it when your fingers fell through his hair, stroking fondly at his curled tresses, or digging into his scalp as a testament to your passion.

And yet, you'd never gone further.

Each night, you would see a hint of regret flash in his eyes, and though he would hold you, and kiss you, and do everything to ensure you would sleep soundly right beside him...

The ambiguity of your relationship was clear.

The nights would be for pleasure, but there would be nothing more.

No professions of love, no promises of commitment...

Perhaps, the butterflies you'd always felt around him, had also simmered down to nothing but racing heartbeats in anticipation of his touch.

"Does that feel good, pretty?"

Now, Jeremiah had his fingers in your pussy, drinking up the lust in your eyes, watching the way your mouth would hang open in breathless pants.

"Mhm... 'Miah... 'Miah, you're so good..."

He smiled up at you, thumb grazing over your clit, sighing when your head fell back with another moan.

"Staying quiet really was never your strong suit, huh? I love having you like this. You're so, pretty for me, my lady... So pretty..."

"M-Mia—aahn—"

He leaned up to kiss you, his lips feeling home on yours, your back arching to meet the thrust of his fingers.

"You're adorble," he mumbled, lightly onto your lips when he pulled back. "Really adorable. So adorable, damn, I'm so lucky."

Another moan from your mouth, and you tensed beneath him. "C-close!" you cried, "M'gonna— gonna cum!"

"Mhm? Real close, huh, pretty?"

His finger brushed on the spongy spot in your walls, and your high came crashing immediately.

"'Miah! Oh, fuck—'Miah, 'Miah— Jeremiah—"

You groaned as he rode out your orgasm, his fingers slowly pulling out of you, drenched in your slick, and you trembled beneath him with pleasure.

"'Miah..."

"Aww... Now I'm hard for you again..." He almost whined as he pressed against you, the feeling of his bare cock on your folds making you hiss in pleasure.

"Should I..." you panted, chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. "Do you want me to suck you off again?"

Your offer came out genuinely, and you propped yourself up on your elbows as if to prepare yourself—but he shook his head, guiding you back down. Jeremiah smiled and placed kisses all over your face, rolling over to lay down next of you as if to make a point. "No need, princess. We've done enough for tonight, right?"

You expected this.

Jeremiah never went too far; always keeping your activities to a minimum, always shaking his head when you asked for more. His self control was impeccable—but it was ironic, almost, considering that these activities had already very much become a nightly adventure.

But you pouted.

Instinctively, you reached out a hand for him to hold; "Why do you hold yourself back when you're with me?"

"What do you mean?"

You could at scoffed at the obviously feigned innocence on his face when he turned to look at you.

"This. You won't let this go... further. Like there's—there's something stopping you, or..." You paused, and squeezed his hand "Jeremiah, what... are we? What are we doing?"

It was a question you'd never dared to ask, but one that you had always felt burning in the back of your mind.

He didn't answer immediately.

You probed him further.

"Even when we're like this, it's almost like... You're still so far away from me. I just... I want to understand where this is all coming from, because, 'Miah, I think I—"

"Don't..."

His voice, interrupting you, was twinged with guilt. He shifted closer enough to cradle you into his chest.

"We're just... We're friends, right? Who just... fool around, from time to time..."

The more words fell out of his mouth, the more he seemed to sound... regretful.

You looked up at him with a searching gaze. "Is that why you'll never really go further than this? Because we're... friends."

He nodded, slowly.

But something wasn't sitting right with you.

It was almost as if he knew something; as if he was hiding something so desperately from you that it was taking every ounce of his being not to give in and tell you everything.

"'Miah..."

"...Ah, fuck—please. Not that nickname, not right now..."

You couldn't understand the pain in his voice.

"...Jeremiah, then."

He looked at you, chewing on the inside of his lower lip, and his eyes held a glimmer of something you couldn't quite understand.

"Do you... Want this, Jeremiah? Is it... Is it not enjoyable for you? If— If you don't want to anymore, then we could just—"

"N-no! It is! God, it is! You're so perfect for me, princ—" the nickname caught in his throat, and he gulped. "Y-you... You always feel so good. I more than want it, I love doing this with you—!"

"Then why are you so sad?"

Your words hung in the air, the silence that followed laying thick with a mix of your emotions. It was almost like he took a moment to process the truth of what you'd said, and then he looked away, gaze flitting to the bedsheets, grip tight around your arms.

"'Miah..."

"No, don't... I— Please. Please, I just—I want you so bad. To have you beneath me—to fuck you, to make love to you... You don't even know how much. And even more than that, I... The more we do this, the more I realize that I don’t want to just fool around with you..."

"Then why don't you? Jeremiah... all this time, I—"

"You're not mine."

You paused. His voice came out barely a whisper, and though he refused to look at you, you could make out the tiny glistening of tears in his eyes.

"What... What do you mean?"

"You... You belong to someone else—"

"No, I don't! I don't have any other man in my life, 'Miah, you know this—"

"But you should!"

"...What? What are you saying?"

He finally looked at you, moving you onto your back once more, clear, pure conflict in his eyes, even as he leaned down to nip at your jawline. His hot, warm breaths were against your skin once more. Immediately you felt your hair raise up, all manner of thoughts seeping through your mind in an instant, desire stirring inside of you—

"'M-Miah..." You drew in a sharp breath. "W-wait, you're not— not making any sense, what's going on...?"

"I can't—I'm not—I'm not supposed to be doing this with you..." His voice shook, but he rolled his hips against yours, and you had to let out a gasp. "I'm not, but I... God, you're just so tempting..."

"I don't... U-understa—ah, shit—!"

"Wh- What's your... call..." Jeremiah let out a shaky breath near your ear, his eyes pleading, his cock resting neatly between your folds, the heat of his touch sending your mind into overdrive. "You— Is it okay? Can I put it in? You... Y-you said..."

Oh...

You swallowed thickly, melting under the intensity in his eyes, failing to hold back a whimper at the way he was sliding against you.

"Yes," you breathed, immediately, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I said yes... I still say yes..."

His hips stuttered at your words, and you could see him grit his teeth as he bit back a loud moan. "O- once. Just once. Once, and I'll pull out, I promise... Just once, let me be inside you..."

Despite the fact that you had already given him consent, he seemed almost as if he was reassuring himself more than you. It didn't sit right with you—something was wrong, and you knew it. Jeremiah wasn't drunk, to have been possibly saying this while not in his right mind, but, this... this was...

What was holding him back?

You, being in such a situation where you understood nothing, didn't know what to do.

Should you stop him...?

Something in your mind was screaming at you to tell him to calm down; what if he didn't truly want this?

But his cock was rubbing so nicely into your clit. You could feel the pool of arousal gather within seconds of him rutting against you, and how—how could you think?

If this were up to you, you've wanted this for so long.

And he was asking you...

He was asking you if he could finally put it inside of you...

You shuddered at the thought, your walls clenching around nothing.

Fuck.

"You can take me, 'Miah," you whispered, breath shaking. You steeled yourself to keep from bucking your hips upwards. "But you have to promise me... Promise me, promise me, that you won't end up regretting it..."

Something flashed in his eyes.

Uncertainty, perhaps—

Jeremiah let out ragged pants, but for a moment, he didn't speak.

Ah...

You moved your hand slowly, trailing his skin before resting to cup his cheek.

"...Do you truly want this, Jeremiah?"

"Yes," he breathed. "Fuck, yes..."

"Okay. I want this, but I'm not forcing you. You have my consent, but I... I want yours."

He sighed, and leaned into your touch, something like a hopeless resignation now made clear in his eyes. He was like a deer in the headlights, almost—so embrolled in whatever internal conflict was at the forefront of his mind, that you almost pitied him. With a pout, you kissed him, slowly, softly, and he lay his forehead to meet yours.

"What if," he whispered, "there was... someone out there, who's loved you all this time?"

"...'Miah?"

"What if... What if I'm stealing you from him? What if it was never supposed to be this way? I just... I feel like... You were never supposed to be mine to hold..."

It wasn't something you could understand at a surface level. You knew that there was more to it—things he couldn't say out loud, and things he couldn't make you understand no matter how hard he tried to.

So you sighed.

"Well, 'Miah, I haven't met him, whoever he is."

"But you hav—"

"The point is that I'm here, now, with you. And, if... If, it makes you feel better, then..." You swallowed your pride, swallowed all the feelings you might have grown for him through your time together, swallowed all hope that you could ever have a normal relationship with him. "We're just... friends, right? Fooling around, like you said. Just... like we've always been doing."

Your heart buzzed, numb, almost.

The look in his eyes told you he didn't believe you; almost as if he'd known, all this time, that you've fallen in love with him, very likely just as he had with you—

But you didn't pay it any mind.

If nothing else, you didn't want to lose what you had now.

It was okay, like this.

You could live with it.

Maybe.

All things considered, your words seemed to bring him to relax just a little bit, and he nuzzled your nose, the fondness in his eyes resurfacing and drowning out any remaining traces of guilt. "Okay," he nodded, "you're right. Of course. We're just... fooling around. Friends, just... fooling around."

It was a false sense of security.

Somehow, the both of you knew it deep in your hearts that you were lying to yourselves.

But it didn't matter, right?

Not when the first push of his tip through your walls had you gasping your air, not when the feel of his length moving right into your cunt felt so perfect—so right. And along with you, Jeremiah let out quiet whimpers, sinking into you slowly, slipping in inch by inch, allowing the both of you to savor this very feeling.

"Holy shit," he cursed, breathless, gritting his teeth as he looked at you almost pleadingly—"How can you feel so good?"

By now he'd bottomed out and your bodies were flush against each other, feeling the echoing of your heartbeats in sync, heavy pants filling the equally weighty silence that followed. Leaning forward slightly, he moved to rest both of your legs on his shoulders, and you couldn't help but moan at the way the slight adjustment had him shifting deeper within you.

"'M-Miah—"

"Fuck, can I... Can I move?" He placed a chaste kiss on the skin of your calf, before letting his hands fall down to your waist, his grip firm yet gentle, his eyes still searching yours almost expectantly.

"Please..."

You could have melted at the way he smiled at you.

And then Jeremiah wasted no time in pulling out, before slowly easing back in. The way your name fell from his lips in a drawn-out moan had you tingling, and you held him tight against you, eyes closing at the way he stretched you out.

He felt so... warm. So safe.

Each of his thrusts were thoughtful, intentional; slow, but long and deep.

Filling.

"S'good, Miah..." you whispered, latching your hands onto his soft curls. "You fit so well..."

"I know... haah... I can't believe we're—I think I'll ruin you for him—"

You didn't dare dwell on his words and only clenched around him at a particularly deep thrust, having the both of you moan in synchrony.

"Fuck! My lady, please— g-go easy on me...!"

"Y-you're the one w-who's so deep—ah—!"

You pulled at his hair, feeling the way the sensitive head of his cock would delightfully brush against your most delicate spot. Your eyes clouded with want, raking your nails over his scalp, shuddering at the way he would moan and moan, on and on about the pleasure of your heat.

"Mhm... so good, 'Miah, s'perfect..." You moaned in tandem with him, whispering praises, matching his thrusts with every movement of your hips. It was too much, almost, even though all he was doing was thrusting into you, doe-like, unfocused eyes transfixed upon your face.

If you weren't lying to yourself, you were inclined to think that he, too, mirrored your exact thoughts.

"Princess... Fuck, my princess..."

Ah. That nickname.

The way his cock would twitch inside you at the mere sound of this nickname from his lips had you gasping, and you wondered, truly, why it had him so worked up. This wasn't the first time you'd seen him so attached to it—but you adored it; you reveled in the way he would use it on you.

"S-say it again," you breathed, heart racing at the wet sounds of your pussy with each of his thrusts, every roll of his hips pushing him so deep inside of you, gliding against that spongy spot. You could barely hold back your moans anymore, words turning into broken, unintelligible whimpers.

"You..." Jeremiah closed his eyes, gritting his teeth, and you felt lightheaded at the image of it in front of you. "Y-you... You like it? When I call you princess?"

Another whine escaped from your lips, and you continue to coax him, pleading him, praising him—anything to get him to bring you closer to your high.

And he listened.

"Fuck, princess— princess, princess, princess— my princess, my pretty, pretty princess—"

Your eyes rolled back as he picked up his pace, precise with his thrusts as the bed rocked steadily beneath you. Cries and moans spilled from your lips, your hands falling to twist into his sheets.

Perfect.

He was perfect.

You'd barely started grinding your hips upwards to meet his thrusts, and then your body was tensing with pleasure

"'M-Miah!" Your fingers raked down to his back, gripping tightly when he hissed into your ear. "M'cumming, 'Miah! M'gonn— I'll—!"

He thrust hard and deep inside of your cunt, and you trembled, crying out his name, mouth falling open—

Jeremiah buried his face into your neck as he pulled out of you, spilling his load all over your chest, broken chants of your name.

"I—fuck—shit—" He whined into your skin, barely lifting himself enough to relax your positions, crawling back over to give you the sweetest of kisses.

"Jeremiah..." You stroked his cheek once more, gently, lost in the way that his eyes would look at you with so much adoration that your heart could beat right out of your chest.

"I..." he started, a pout forming at his lips. "I'm sorry, my lady..."

He didn't explain why, but he didn't need to.

You could see it in his eyes.

His eyes, his ever expressive eyes, holding so much warmth and so much love—

He loved you.

Even though you had dared to reach this illusion of mutual agreement, even if you'd promised yourselves only just a short while ago that this wouldn't happen.

That it couldn't happen.

And you closed your eyes.

"I know," you whispered.

I love you, too.

Your words would remain unsaid.

⁺₊ / an: flower language is cute and the flowers mentioned here represent things like compliments/love/growing attraction! the zinnia symbolises welcoming back a missing friend! because jeremiah would totally flirt via flowers... haha... florist, right....... did i just make myself more attached to him? 4.5k wordcount says yes!!

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

[salemoleander]

Given Mumbo's poll about weirdness in Hermit Minecraft control choices, I am immensely curious if in fact a lot of people have "weird" personal changes to the standard control schemes/ keybinds of Minecraft, and we just don't talk about them much in normal conversation

For instance, I play with the Attack/Destroy and Place Block buttons reversed. Place is left click, destroy is right click. (This seemed self-evidently more logical to me than the default keys when I started playing age 13 or so.)

I would be very interested to hear about people's personal MC keybinds and irl interactions w/ MC¹ controls in replies, tags, or reblogs!

¹Irl interactions w MC controls Example: Pressing Shift with your thumb isn't a weird keybind, Shift to crouch is the default! However, pressing with a thumb is a weird way to interact with that keybind.

[purplesaline]

Speaking of Collie Dumbs (the phenomenon where collies lose their brains when they turn into teenagers)

Russel gave us a pre-teen preview of that this morning when she took advantage of the split second no one was holding her leash (we'd been untangling her and Parker while they wrestled) and bolted.

She ran around the apartment building, down the block, across the street, and down at least half the connecting street before her brain finally came back online and she realized we weren't running with her and finally came running back to us.

Parker had also escaped when I had tried to grab her leash but he came back to me, I'm guessing, around the time she'd crossed the road.

Thankfully I live in a low traffic area.

Still reassuring her person that this was not a failure of training. No matter how well they've trained her recall this still would have happened because when they get puppy brain like this they're not capable of registering a cue until the brain cells get back from their union mandated break.

[chasingrainbowsforever]

~ Purple and Orange ~

[crnl-chicken-tots]

Mutual Gain

[albonoooo]

charles leclerc & scuderia ferrari (ft. mattia binotto)

palaye royale, bullet with butterfly wings // gazetta article* // heather havrilesky, ask polly: help, i am the loneliest person in the world! // f1 news article // jenny holzer, cast bronze plaque #40

*translation of the headline: leclerc: 'ferrari, another wrong decision'. binotto: 'i told him to calm down: he did a great job'

[frnkiebby]

ITS 5 AM IN THE MORNING AND INSTEAD OF DOING MY PROJECT IM HERE PLANNING HOW TO DROP KICK A BABY WITHOUT THE COPS CHASING ME. ANYWAYZ, I HOPE YOU DONT HAVE THIS

MAYBE YOU DO HAVE IT BUT HEY ITS A POST-FETUS FRANK SO IDRK????? BUT IF I STOP SPAMMING ASKS THEN IM PROBABLY IN JAIL BY THEN. THANK YOU ALL 🙏

PERHAPS UNFORTUNATELY FOR YOU I DO and more. bc jamia and frank are the cutest motherfuckers around.~🎃

also. they may or may not have their own album bc i’m hopeless for jamia as well….

[unriding]

Moze was known for being sneaky and basically invisible, since barely anyone sees him while he sees everyone and everything. It might be creepy to think about, but this didn't intimidate you at all. Rather the opposite - this was one of the reasons why you became interested in him.

But your beloved would've never guessed that you can be the sneaky type too. At first, you sneaked into his heart slowly and carefully - and now you are sneaking sweet little messages on sticky notes everywhere he could see them.

Be it in his lunchbox, in his trouser pockets, on his daggers,.. everywhere he would find a sweet message like “Remember that you are so, so loved by me, Moze! ❤️” which he certainly wasn't used to seeing, but he didn't mind it in one bit.

He actually adores it and they became one of his favorite parts of the day - besides the part where he would see you.

So don't be surprised when you find a sticky note with the message “I love you, Evie.” one day too, and of course - he would've sneaked it into your lunchbox, too while watching your reaction in the shadows, slightly smiling to himself.

~ 💐 (18th door of the advent calendar)

[mistbornhero]

Thoughts?

Many.

[remcocoa]

listening to this gtcc episode and campy played kwiato like a fiddle on stage 18 oh my god 😭