#god nobody ask me the color of anything

[lifemod17]

I can't stop thinking about his groove after watching the lovely @nadja-antipaxos 's video of It Will Come Back at OKC show, I just had to gif it so I can engrave it to memory

🎥: nadja-antipaxos | tumblr

Oklahoma city || 09/26/2024

[ironunderstands]

Would be waiting for acheron brainrot ramble here

Is it time for Acheron brainrot ramble? It’s time for Acheron brainrot ramble. Prepare for the most stream of consciousness post ever, I had so much fun writing this she has taken over my consciousness and puppeted me for my own ends, and commanded me to demonstrate how peak she really is. So enjoy, hopefully I can get others to love Acheron just as much as I do.

I think there are three reasons why I like Acheron 1) she’s really fucking cool 2) I love characters who guide/mentor others 3) She’s charming as hell.

Hoyo you aren’t allowed to make characters this good.

The music in her trailer, her aesthetic, the amount of fire fucking one liners. THE COLOR RED (I’ll get into it)

“Find me, your end, my origin.” Who cooked here who wrote this who’s the chef please where’s the restaurant I’m eating this up

“On the still waters of oblivion, I guide the wandering souls” GRAHAJDJWJKSSW YES YOU DO OH MY GOD I CANT PUT INTO WORDS HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS LINE SHUT UP EVERYONE SHUT UP. Like she literally is at the edge of existence fighting to help others find their future, I just. RAAAA

SHE CUTS A BLACK HOLE IN HALF?? HUHH AUGHH a black hole that’s the manifestation of meaninglessness in the universe, and she goes “nah” and fucking obliterates it?!!?

“I weep for the departed” Those who have died are gone, and slowly losing themselves even further. For decades, centuries, millennia, even, Acheron has witnessed this, and still cries for them, still guides them to the other side, even if the task itself is meaningless, because someone should do it, someone has to do it, and that someone is HER.

She saves Aventurine, she saves the Trailblazer, she saves the entirity of Penacony. Someone blessed by the manifestation of nonexistent dedicates her life to giving others a reason to live.

Aventurine asks her why people should bother living, if the dice are always weighted in a certain outcome, then why should we keep going? Aventurine asks her why people should bother living if the universe is meaningless?

He fully expects her to say people shouldn’t.

But Acheron doesn’t do that. The dice are weighted against us. Not just in game, but in reality itself. We will all die, you will die, the people you care about will die, I might die, it remains to be seen. However, before that inevitable ending, before the curtain finally closes, we have so many choices to make. If the ending is the same for everyone, it doesn’t matter, and Acheron tells Aventurine this.

Because the Nihility envelops everyone equally, the universe is equally meaningless for everyone, nobody is the special someone destined to have a destiny. Therefore, it doesn’t matter. Aventurine has no reason to live. And Aventurine has no reason not to live. She tells him his time hasn’t come, because it hasn’t. Until that dice roll, until his final breath, Aventurine can still make choices and he can still choose to live for himself, and that’s the answer Acheron gives him.

But she knows that’s not enough. Aventurine will still struggle to live for himself, after all he’s been through, after the mountain of expectations and hopes and dreams piled onto him. So she tells him his friend has already given him the answer. Aventurine pulls out the note written by Dr. Ratio. It doesn’t give him a plan, doesn’t inform him of what expectations he has for him, doesn’t list every single reason why Aventurine should keep going. Ratio tells Aventurine to stay alive and keep on living, because he doesn’t need anything more than that, there isn’t anything more than that. Her caring about Aventurine, Ratio caring about Aventurine, that’s enough to keep him going, because other peoples love is enough of a reason to exist, universe be damned.

existing. The Existence. AKSJAKKSNDKKWEN.

Like you don’t understand, you don’t understand. ACHERON IS ENVELOPED IN THE MEANINGLESSNESS OF THE UNIVERSE BEFORE SHE FINDS ITS EXISTENCE, ITS VALUE, ITS MEANING. Even if it can never be achieved, Acheron is willing to destroy herself completely as she walks farther and farther into the Nihility trying to find the Existence, even if it takes every from her she will find it. Only by giving up her existence can Acheron find the Existence and kill the Nihility. Only by sacrificing her own life and giving up her own meaning can she give it to others.

Red. She tells the trailblazer that when they can no longer see the world in anything but black and white, there will be a brief flash of Red for them.

Red is the Existence. Red is the color of her blade that allowed her to cut that black hole in half. Red is the only color left when she unsheathes her sword. Red is the color of the tears she cries. Red is the color of the words she speaks to us that truly matter.

Red is the color she cuts into reality. In a world of black and white, in which all the light has been swallowed by IX, and the path ahead is blurry, Acheron illuminates the universe’s future in bright red, creating color, creating life, creating Existence in a world devoid of it.

We will encounter the Nihility along our journey, just as we would encounter every other aeon. The world will seem meaningless, and it will be devoid of color, but when the Trailblazer needs it the most, there will be Red. A reason to keep going, a reason to exist, a reason to keep on Trailblazing, because the path of the Trailblaze’s end is also at the Existence, and we will meet Acheron there again. Whether that color will come from us or her remains to be seen, but it will be there for us when we need it.

However, I think we/the Trailblazer will be alone. As that flash of red isn’t the only thing Acheron tells the Trailblazer.

Only when left alone can people pick themselves up. Only when help is absent can people truly fight for themselves. Only when you are alone, can you truly understand your existence.

That doesn’t mean other people don’t matter, that you have to walk the world alone, that you can only exist devoid of others. Quite the opposite actually, other people can be your reason to exist, something to help keep you going. Acheron knows this, which is why she directs Aventurine to Ratio’s note. That’s the meaning he can find in a meaningless universe.

Moreover, people help each other, they provide the tools other people need to exist, the anchors that ground people in reality, the reason why you might want to wake up in the morning, they create the things and ideas that you need and enjoy. It’s when you are ripped of these comforts, stripped of the things that make you want to keep going, is when people fight for their existence. As in a world devoid of everything, can you truly appreciate the things you have, and acknowledge that since there is now nothing, you are the only something. When there is no one there to save them, fools pick themselves up, and that is Existence.

I love Acheron. I love her silly amnesiac tendencies, I love her beautiful design, I love that she’s a Mei counterpart, but most of all, I love what she stands for.

Acheron is the indomitable human spirit personified, she quite literally chooses to exist in the face of absolute nothing. When the world loses all color, does she paint reality in a bright red with her sword, writing her own destiny with each and every slash.

And for that, I will always adore her.

[lonefloric]

Everything is dark ✿

an installment of the intertwined souls mini series

Tanjiro x female!reader

in a world where nobody can see color until they meet their soulmate, tanjiro is devastated thinking he will never meet his soulmate with demons still alive. That's until quick eye contact with a village girl.

not edited, was too excited to start the series so here's the first installation 😼

Ever since he was a small child, Tanjiro knew the importance of finding his soulmate, his lost other half. His mother would bundle him and his sister up in her lap, explaining the many different types of soulmates in the world.

Tanjiro had a unique soulmate connection. He couldn't see color. He listened to the many stories of the 'colorful' world around him, yet everything appeared to be an array of grays. He asked his father what it meant, to which he smiled and patted the boys head.

"You, my son, are a special case. A very rare connection. When you meet your soulmate, look in their eyes and your world will become colorful."

/

You were born as the only child to your father. Your mother had passed shortly after you were born. The village chased your father out, claiming you killed your mother as a cursed child.However, you were not cursed, simply born with total blindness.

It was extremely rare, and completely unheard of in your small village to be born completely blind. The villagers, fearing the safety of their homes resorted to the belief you were cursed and that you killed your mother.

Your father, a poor farmer, took you and ran. He traveled many days until he found an abandoned house by the edge of a forest. Your father loved you more than anything, he did not believe you to be cursed, only that you did not have the luck of the gods.

As you aged, your father taught you the basics to farming and how to navigate without your eyesight. He also began to explain soulmates to you. He explained to you the many different types of soulmates in the world, even his own with your mother. There was no countdown on your wrist, you didn't hear anyone else's thoughts, you were never freezing, and nobody appeared in your dreams.

Maybe you really were cursed. An unlucky child, even the gods didn't bless you with an eternal lover. That was what you always believed until...

/

"Are you alright?!"

Foolishly, you decided to wonder outside of your home late at night. Your father wasn't home, he left for a nearby village to pick up some things, leaving you alone.

"-iss! Miss?" an unfamiliar male voice called out snapping you back into reality.

"Huh?" you blinked rapidly suddenly able to feel the rush of freezing water around you. Oh, right, you had been startled causing you to trip and land in the stream you were attempting to cross.

You began to move your hands around in the water, attempting to figure out your surroundings after being disorientated. "Here, take my hand." the boy, who sounded no older than you, must have extended his hand out for you.

Picking your hand up out of the water, you extended your hand and attempted to grasp the boys hand. Your hand completely missed his, beginning to fall back towards the water, a hand grasped your wrist.

"Are you alright?" the boy asked again, more concern lacing his tone. Embarrassment began to creep up in you, the boy's hands sliding from your wrist to your hand and pulled you up.

once you regained your balance, you clasped your hands together in thanks. "I thank you for helping me! I cannot see and your assistance was very helpful!" you lifted your head, in what you assumed, was the boys direction.

Weirdly, there was silence. "Sir...?" you called out cautiously. Did he leaves already? No, that was unlikely he was just there-

Warm hands suddenly engulfed your own causing you to jump at the sudden contact. "We're soulmates!" now you were confused, how could he know for sure?

You tilted your head. "Did you not hear me..? I cannot see.. There's no chance we are soulmates."

"My name is Kamado Tanjiro! Before I could not see any color but now that I have looked at your eyes, I can now see color! We have to be soulmates!" Tanjiro exclaimed.

You shook your head, "impossible."

Tanjiro's hands moved from your own to cup your cheeks, forcing you to look in his general direction. "Focus."

You did as told. Now that you mention it, there was a new warmth creeping up in your chest. "Can you feel it?" he asked. You nodded in response, tears pricking your eyes.

"Wait - don't cry!" sobs began to wrack your body, you threw your arms around Tanjiro's shoulders.

"We are soulmates. I didn't think it was possible without my vision. I am believed to be cursed but it seems not to be true!"

Tanjiro simply held you until your sobs died down, "let's get you inside and we can take it from there, alright?" you simply nodded, letting the boy, your fated lover, lead you back inside your home.

[vampdes]

Please, I'm begging you do more Homelander x top male reader. I loved your other fic with him. Maybe reader is a supe who's stronger than Homelander and left. Homelander was sent to kill reader due to reader having information but instead gets fucked. Thank you and have a nice day.

DES says . . . im not doing anything right now, so why not? hope you enjoy xx (even though this is very late).

SUM. — homelander is sick, erratic, manic. why? he has his fame, his money, his powers – what more could he need? an antidote, obviously, what else?

CON. warning — smoking weed / rolling a blunt (once), dry humping, dry orgasm, overstim, mentions of: growling, passing out (figuratively), meeting heaven (figuratively), & yan-like actions. p in a. bareback. begging. impregnation (breeding ?) kink. collar & leash. subby (leaning on), needy, & whiny homelander.

NOTES. — very rushed. semi-detailed smut. not a very good ending.

you flipped through the televison’s provided channels with an unlit blunt protruding from your lips, itching to light it in order to feel the undeniable zest and haze it always seemed to provide you with. the calming and doughy-like sensation melted your brain, it allowed you to escape from the realization that you were indeed wanted by national police and superheros (all at the same time, mind you) just because you even dared to speak of retiring. therefore, you came up with an idea: just escape! to hawaii or somewhere — you landed in Australia, though, so hawaii was entirely off course but aye, you were gone and free and almost high.

what’s not to love?

you finally found a reliable sitcom that’d allow you to not think too hard or pay attention too much. so you sat back and slouched, drowned into the comfiness of the couch’s plush cushions, and lit your blunt. the wafting smoking engulfed itself deep within your lungs and etched itself into the cushions of your couch. before you could even care about your couch’s wellbeing or could even take a second exhilarating blow, the smell of metal being burnt and resulting smoke that wafted from under your penthouse door to your living made your eye brows furrow together with confusion. before continuing your trail on being high, you dipped the blunt into an ashtray and pushed it into the table, and sat up, watching the door with a sense that something was array in the air.

“fix me, oh fuck — y’gotta, fuck, fuck, fuck—,” john’s words fell into loud, squeaky squabbles into the silk sheets of your bed. his large frame sat atop of your hips, straddling you whilst he made a steady pace of teasing his concealed cock with the friction your ruffled jeans provided him with. you wanted to calm him down, tell him it’s okay, baby, you know i’ll fix you, but he chose that ignorant and arrogant company or what the two of you could have had. and that’s something you’ll never forget, but damn, why pass up on fucking the most famous hero in the world because he’s begging to have you? nobody in their right mind would, that’s for sure.

“you gonna let me treat you right?” you asked, gripping on his hips with words that haven’t been spoken before but explained and demonstrated through the many encounters that occurred in the empty janitor closets in the hallways of his company. and john. . he can’t help but grind himself a little harder and nod just a little faster. he wants you in ways he could never explain. he needs you with the biblical and primal history behind it. he begs to serve you as though he’s nothing but a measly worshipper and you’re a god within the highest of heavens. and you allow him to do so.

“please.” john responds, and you know he means it.

before long, he has a pastel-pink color around his neck with the leash wrapped around your balled fist, feeling like a submissive fucking bitch under your control, and damn, he feels good. his hands are tied behind his back with his nails clawing at the air between you and him in order to feel the pleasure that courses through every atom in his very being. for the first time in a long time, john allows himself to be willingly and properly used by someone he adores.

when you mention the fact that you’ve run out of the very last condom, he says: “get me pregnant.” and good lord above, you can’t help but comply with his demands. he felt fucking heavenly too, he felt so, so fucking good, and the noises that were coming from him? good fucking god, you’d capture those noises in a jar and listen to them every night before you sleep if you could.

in between the lingering touches and chaste kisses and animalistic thrusts and moans and being treated like a fucking free-use prostitute, the tears that streamed down his eyes and the whines that came from him and the need eminiting from him to have the immediate skin-to-skin contact with you even though you were literally shoving your cum into the deepest part of his guts is what captivated you entirely. the way he honestly showed his greed proudly with it circling around town and right back to you made your heart swell. fuck, this was sick (sick enough to make you force yet another cry out his hoarse throat).

“oh fuck, fuck, fuck — gotta make you mine, gotta get pregnant and make sure you stay with me, oh fuck, gotta – gonna cum, fuck, gonnafuckin’cum–,” the process that coincided with long strings of his cum colliding with his pretty pink breasts made the loudest, girliest, guttural squeal mixed with a whine mixed with the neediest moan escape from his throat with him crying out your name. your sylabells. and for fucks sake, he knew exactly how to get you started again to buck your cum-covered tip into his abused prostate once more.

when he cried out your name like you were the Archangel himself, you knew that today would turn into tonight which would turn into yet another post-sex morning with a bitchy, clingy, neck-biting john that always needed a piece of you with him or he swore he might (would and undeniably will) go crazy. and to be honest, if you just savor this maniac for just a little bit longer, maybe the earth would look a bit more brighter to you. maybe the air would be clearer, the sun would shine harder, the birds would harmonize better — the morning is the best time of your day.

[swampstew]

Tulips

Summary: sex pollen trope is infesting my brain.

Warnings: Eustass Kid X Female Reader, consent is implied, dom/sub dynamics, exhibitionism because its outside sex but no one actually witnesses it, vaginal penetration, etc etc.

Minor Do Not Interact

"Oi, Y/N. Where are you going?" the brash voice of your Captain stopped you in your tracks.

"Explore a little since we're still here. Is that not ok?" the carefree smile on your face creased with worry.

You had been growing closer with Eustass Kid day by day since you had joined the crew. In retrospect it wasn't that long ago he found you on your island and invited you to join him on his adventures. You did what you could to stay on his good side, and every opportunity you spent with him seemed to drag slowly as you learned more about each other; you wouldn't have it any other way.

He lit up every corner of your mind even when he wasn't in your presence. Infiltrating every region of your brain with his sexy, brooding demeanor. That only seemed to perk up when you kept him company. At least, you hoped that's what you saw and felt, and not something you imagined.

"How many times do I gotta tell ya - don't leave the ship without telling one of the higher ups! Don't wanna lose you, dummy."

"Well there's nobody else here so I thought it was no big deal!" you stuck your tongue out at him, "I'll try to remember next time."

Kid's face broke out with an amused look, "If you fall down into some ancient, underground dwelling and no one hears you, what then? Or if you come across a carnivorous plant that tries to eat you, you think you'd regret not telling someone you'd left the ship?"

"Oh my gods stop with your whataboutisms, I get it, I'm sorry! If you're so worried about me, come along then," you resumed your walk to the gangplank.

"Let's go on a side quest," you beamed up at him. Hoping your smile would win him over so you could greedily hog his attention.

Not that he was never not willing to give it to you. He seemed to enjoy making you beg for it lately, so you were trying a new approach that didn't feel quite so...pathetic for your own sake.

Kid studied you with a piercing gaze, the grin on his face never leaving. Only growing wider.

"Just us hmm? Sure, I guess I can spare the newest, and weakest, member some one-on-one time so they can feel safe. It's a big, scary world out there."

"Byyyeeeeee," you waved as you descended the ship, leaving him with a gaping mouth.

"Hey wait up!"

---

The weather was just right, not blazing hot and just enough cover from the foliage to create an intimate atmosphere. You could talk to him about anything and everything it felt like.

Coming up on a small field of flowers, the sudden burst of color made you hover over them in appreciation. Kid was standing behind as you smelled them. Admiring the way your curves and body rounded you out so perfectly that it made his eyes glaze over.

You let out a sneeze, straightened your posture and continued your walk. Kid watched you silently before moving, falling in step with you before you ever noticed he was gone. Soon you met a fork in the path.

“Which way?” you asked him.

“I dunno,” he smirked. Pulling a handful of flowers from behind his back, he handed them to you, not looking at you but at the two routes. “Pull the petals or something.”

Stunned, you took them, “Oh! But these are so pretty, I don’t think I can.”

With a snort, he plucked a stem from your fingers and began, “Left, right, left, right…”

You fidgeted as you waited, a sudden warmth taking over you, making you clench the stems in your hand hard enough to make them wilt.

“Left, right, aaaaaand left,” he shook the remains of the pollen in the air as he tossed the last petal. With a cool touch of his metal hand on your hip, he gently pushed you on, “C’mon, the flower decided.”

A blush touched your cheeks as you wordlessly let him lead. Kid’s touch lingered for a few yards before he let go, suddenly walking ahead a little faster.

“Everything ok?”

“Yeah, just scouting for a place to rest.”

You picked up your pace, yet you were no match against his long strides. He almost escaped your sight as he halted and let out a sigh of relief.

“This is a good spot. Hang out here, I need to take a leak.”

Without waiting for you, he jogged between the trees.

Perplexed, you reached a natural spring and some large, flat rocks stacked upon each other towering over the stream. You chose that spot to wait, enjoying the babble of water and low trill of insects in the breeze. Checking your watch every few minutes, you soon became impatient and rocked subtly against the stone, subconsciously seeking relief for a wispy ache.

After 15 minutes, you decided to look for your Captain. Maybe one of his wild warnings came true and he was impaled in a hole somewhere. Or he got lost. Neither option made you feel good. Thinking of his hulking, muscular body dirty and bloody, you bit your lip, gnawing on the idea of nursing him back to health in the wilderness all by yourself.

You heard frustrated curses and followed them to the source.

Eustass Kid, slamming through tree barks. The wood splintered from the impact, his mechanical arm not bothered by the strike moved on to the next tree. Grabbing the trunk with both arms—

--and rutting manically against it.

“Fuck fuck fuck!!! Go away!!!!” he bent his head down and seemingly screamed at himself.

“C-captain?” you stood a few feet from him, unsure if you should have called his attention or quietly run away while you had the chance. He seemed pissed.

Kid’s scowl should have sent your soul to the grave with how fierce it was, but the only thing you felt was your blood boiling and the ache in your body growing severely. You couldn’t help the way your body naturally shifted, thighs tightening and rubbing faintly.

He saw. His golden amber eyes never missed anything.

“Y/N,” his gravelly voice was lower than normal. Slowly, he stood to his full height and turned to you. A raging boner straining against his pants. “I-I think I’m having an allergic reaction or some shit,” he tried to explain.

Your eyes went from his face to his erection, to the flowers still in your hand. Cautiously you walked up to him, closing the distance he could feel your body heat despite not really being in contact with you. You dropped all but one to the ground, cradling the bulb in your palm as you put it in front of your faces.

And crushed it.

Puffs of pollen escaped between your fingers. Your body felt like it was a slow burning candle, and the fire was not where you yearned it to be. Kid’s pupils dilated they hardly left slivers of the color you love so much.

Your bodies crashed into each other with needy, hungry fervor. Kid’s lips devoured yours, metal hand clutching your body and pinning you to a nearby tree. You wrapped your hand around his covered cock and he let out a deep groan. He thrusted into your hand, hard enough that his body trapped yours against the tree, bucking with reckless abandon. It wasn’t long before you abandoned your grip and pulled yourself up and wrapped your legs around his waist.

He eagerly accepted the change of pace, using his flesh hand to grab at your ass to stabilize his grinding directly between your legs. A lovely melody spilled from your lips as he kept up his ministrations, unwilling to let go now after hearing the beautiful sounds you made for him. When he wasn’t even inside you yet.

It was for that reason he took his time walking back to the spring while groping and making out with you. Slamming you against every other tree so he could pleasure you both, drawing out the anticipation with agonizing edging and teasing.

“K-Ki—” you couldn’t speak, desperation robbing your brain cells as tears streamed from your eyes. “Please!”

“I’ll take care of you,” he bit your lower lip. Quick to shed both your clothes, he laid you against the smooth rock, caressing your shoulder and hip as you felt his hardened length pressing against your core.

You let out a needy whimper, Kid kissed you as he pushed in. Feeling your mewling cries against his lips, his tongue slipped into your mouth and freed your voice.

It rose higher and higher with each thrust of his cock. His own wanton moans joining yours in chorus as you climbed your peaks together.

“Fuuuck, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groaned, panting heavily over you. “U-under different c-circ—”

You hushed him with a scrape of your nails against his back, “Me-me too! Don’t stop, don’t—”

Kid shifted and grabbed your legs to sit higher on his hips, slamming into you deeply. The edges of your being felt hazy as your core tightened. Your walls fluttered around him as he rolled his hips, your moans coming out near breathless as your orgasm washed over you.

You clamped on his cock with a strangled shriek, head hitting the stone and nails digging into his arms as you came. A veil of white flooded your vision as you rode the wave, feeling your body moving with his in synchrony. Sweet moans spilled from your lips with every slap of his balls against your sopping cheeks.

Kid’s hips stuttered, letting out a choked cry as his hips pistoned faster. You felt his cock twitch before it left your gummy walls. He jerked his hand on his cock and when that wasn’t enough he pressed his length against your quivering lips, tip of the head nestled over your clit, and rut his hips until he came.

You could feel the hot spurts land on your belly, smearing and spreading between your bodies as he kept going. Pushing you both to the point of overstimulation.

“I can’t I can’t fuck I don’t want to stop!!” he roared, burrowing his fingers deep into your skin to leave bruises.

You answered with your own grinding, hungry for so much more. With each slide of his cock, your stomach coiled, wounding tightly quickly.

When you came, it was pain, pleasure, euphoria, hysteria, and tingling numbness all at once as your body tensed and pulsed. You felt the wave crest and then wetness on you. Then hotter, heavier droplets as Kid followed you with his own bliss.

A pool of fluids mixed between your bodies as you stayed locked in position, both of you catching your breaths, hearts beating wildly against each other.

“I meant it,” he finally muttered. Raising his head to look at you, rubbing his fingers on your jaw, “I did and still do. Meant to wine and dine you first.”

You smiled tenderly, half-lidded eyes drinking him in, “You still can. I’ve been wanting that very much.”

“Yeah?” he leaned to kiss your cheek, his slight movements triggered his arousal as he swelled against you. “What else have you been wanting from me?”

“A few things,” you let out a shy giggle, “Want to try some of them out while we’re here?”

Kid grinned widely, “You can have me for as long as you’d like.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, the aphrodisiacal effects of the flowers you inhaled will last for several, several hours.

[kamii-2]

Nika Muhl x fem where she surprises her in Seattle and Nika misses her so much and it turns to smut

hi anon!! i hope you enjoy the fic 🫨 i’m sorry the smut part isn’t that long 😭 i wanted to give it an actual plot but it does have some sort of sexual thing in almost every paragraph

warning(s): cussing, smut

genre: smut

pairing(s): nika mühl x reader

==================================

you knocked on nika’s apartment door and impatiently waited for her to open it. you came to visit nika during summer break at uconn and she had no idea you were coming, nobody knew you were going to see her. after a few more seconds of you waiting, nika opened the door and immediately gasped and hugged you. “i didn’t know you were coming!” she said excitedly while continuing to hug you, “i decided to surprise you since i haven’t seen you in so long.” you happily replied. nika released you and took you inside of her apartment, the second she shut the door she gave you a loving and passionate kiss, hands roaming all around your body. “already?” you joked, you’ve been waiting months to feel her hands on your body again.

she ignored your remark and pulled away while dragging you to her bedroom, not even bothering to give you a tour or anything. when you reached the room she pulled you to the bed and made you sit, “i’ll be back.” she said while leaving the room. this was your first time in her apartment, the only things you seen were bits and pieces of it on facetime or pictures she’d send. you hadn’t really looked around when you got there because nika immediately started to kiss you.

after a couple more minutes, nika came back with a box, the back of it facing you while she tried her best to cover the words on the back. “what’s that?” you questioned while slightly tilting your head to the side, she smiles while flipping the box to the front. your eyes went wide before you immediately went to giggling in excitement. “oh my God, let me see it.” she handed it to you and you flipping it over to read the back, “9 inches?? damn nika.” you said in shock while beginning to open it up.

after you got it open and pulled it out the box nika took it and set it down while climbing on you and kiss on your neck, leaving some hickies here and there. she started to undress you, leaving you in nothing but your pink bra and matching panties. she stared at you for a moment, taking in all of your beauty and your body, she missed you a lot. you leaned forward and took off her shirt while she cooperated, after taking her shirt off you kissed down from the bottom of her sports bra to the waist of her sweatpants. you slowly took off her sweatpants to reveal her wearing your favorite color panties, you looked up at her and smiled, “it’s like you knew i was coming today.” she giggled at your comment then leaned down and kissed you.

she pulled away and grabbed the black strap off her bed and put it on, you watched as she untightened it, slid it on, then tightened it back. “you ready?” she asked softly, you nodded yes and leaned back. she took your panties off and dropped them to the floor, your legs automatically spread the second the underwear was off. she lined herself up with you and slowly slid in. this wasn’t your first time getting fucked like this by nika, you two had a strap when she was a sophomore and you were a freshman (back when you first started dating), it was 6 inches and bright pink, but it broke from constantly being used (you two were a different breed during the first year of dating) and you two never bought another one.

“oh.” you moaned softly, you haven’t felt this feeling in years, it felt so good. you honestly missed it. she gradually got faster the longer she fucked you, hands gripping your hips as she pounded into you at an ungodly pace. your legs were wrapped around her waist, getting looser the close you got to cumming. “nika, oh my God this feel so good.” you cried out, you were so wet each thrust, juice came out of you. nika was watching as the strap went in and out of you, she felt herself getting wet as she seen how wet you were from her. after a few more thrusts you squirted all over nika’s torso. “fuck.” you groaned while putting your hands over your face, sort of embarrassed. nika stood there, strap still inside of you, shocked as the juices ran down her body. “that’s the first time i’ve made you squirt.” she said as she slowly pulled out. you moved your fingers from over your eyes and watched her, “stop covering your face.” nika told you as she took the strap off.

“i just released bodily fluid all over you and you don’t expect me to be a little bit embarrassed?” you say as you remove your hands from your face, using your arms to sit up. “no i don’t, if i were you i’d be happy as hell.” she replied as she wiped the strap and her torso off and put the strap away in her closet. she walked over to you and got on her knees, opening your legs up with her hands. she stared at your glistening pussy as you put your legs on her shoulders and gently pulled her in closer. she grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to her and started to eat you like you were her last meal. “i’ve been missing your tongue so bad recently, worse than usual.” you moaned out, telling nothing but the truth. she smiled against your pussy, continuing to eating you out. “shit, shit, shit.” you moaned loudly, already getting close to cumming after a few minutes of her tongue thrusting in md out of you and her sucking on your clit like it was candy.

the orgasm you had was amazing, cum all over her face and bed, when i say all over her face i mean the tip of her nose to chin was covered in juices. you sat back up to look down at her and she already looking at you, “you just love getting cum all over me huh?” she joke dad she wiped her face off with the same towel from earlier, “shut up.” you said as you laid back down.

==================================

im so sorry for not posting in a super long time but i really hope you guys liked this very dirty smut story, i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[downbaddetective]

On one of my recent rewatches (note taking for color analysis), my partner sat and watched with me, and I thought I would share some of the things he had thoughts on in no particular order:

•He also believed that Niko's sprite attention cloud was a physical manifestation of soulmatedness/lesbianism directed at Crystal like the rest of us did

•He owns an older Miata, so he was pretty pleased with the fact that Esther owned one (the first time I had watched, I involuntarily clocked it (I am not a car person), so when she confirmed that I was correct in the last episode I had told him that he should be proud of himself, lol.)

•Loved Esther up until the very end

•He enjoyed the music

•I don't think he was fully sold on Niko at first, but she quickly became one of his favorites

●He liked Crystal the most from the beginning (He asked how people hated her because I talked to him about my frustration with some weird takes that were going on, to each their own, but that one also still confuses me.)

•'You're my best mate' "oof, not the friend zone"

•Both Esther and Niko seemed to have all of his favorite lines

•I accidentally spoiled the fact that Niko 'dies' but I didn't say anything about what happens after the fact, so when the last couple of episodes were foreshadowing her dying, he basically went 'but I don't want her to die :('

•In addition to the previous point, the morning before we watched the last two episodes (we had to watch it in chunks), he was talking about how he doubted that we would get renewed (not in a mean way) but the last episode closed out he immediately said he was angry there was no season 2 and that this show deserves at least a season 2

•He wasn't fully convinced that it's Niko in the Igloo at the end

•He wants Jenny to go to London because he loves her

•He got frustrated with nobody listening to Tragic Mick's story and cheered when Niko asked him to continue

•He wants Mick to be able to be a Walrus again

•He essentially said 'My god, he wants to fuck the cat' lol

•He struggled to describe the vibes he was getting off of the Cat King, he has yet to find the words

•He loved the cats (probably because they said fuck and other such words)

•He also enjoyed the dandelion sprites

•There wasn't a whole lot that he had to say about Edwin and Charles, just kinda vibed

•He apparently missed the Cat King's cat form the first time, so he saw the second instance and said,"Of course he's orange"

•I also asked the rhetorical question, "Who told the ghost population of Port Townsend that the Dead Boy Detectives and their new medium were there?" Without hesitation, he went, "It was the Cat King."

•He has been exposed to Orbwin and Chorb content on here and is deeply entertained by it, so he looked really worried after the explosion at the butcher shop so to help I pointed and said "Look, it's Chorb!" It helped

So, needless to say, if you haven't already watched it, you should watch Dead Boy Detectives.

[dipperscavern]

Ok, just read your blurb about being Jessica’s assistant and being nicknamed baby.

What if the origin of baby was that someone was giving baby shit and someone else (Harvey perhaps) says the classic line “no one puts baby in the corner” when coming to her defense. Then it just kind of spirals from there and no one gives her shit again.

Also feel free to ignore this, literally just my first thought when reading your post!

oh my god. when i tell you i SCREAMED this is so genius & yummy.. PHEW. i know exactly what ur referencing ily & thank u so much for the ask! 🫶🏻

“I’m just saying, the assistant to the Jessica Pearson.. and your desk looks like this?”

you roll your eyes, the hint of a playful expression on your face. while you knew he wasn’t being completely serious, you liked your desk — pink things, trinkets, & personal touches all. you found decorating your desk as a fun way of personal expression, and you were so damn good at your job, jessica didn’t care.

“Would you like to re-decorate for me?”

your reply is dripping sarcasm, a playful tone in your voice that masks how you really feel. you look up at the few bored associates hanging around your desk, and they snicker at your reply.

“Yes I will, thank you. It’s.. something. Could use a more professional look.”

that makes you frown. something? more professional? what started out as a joke seemed more like a personal attack the more it went on. tom, the associate who’s mouth was moving, never seemed to know when to stop. you’re about to say something when a miracle in the flesh steps in your line of sight — harvey specter.

it’s ironic, really. he radiates business when the very reason he came over to your desk was to shoo off the associates bothering you. he looks around to the people that have now stiffened up in his presence, and he gives them an almost confused look.

“And what the hell are you doing?”

tom swallows. “Just- messing around. Sir.”

“What?” harvey looks around. “What’s wrong, you.. don’t like her desk? Is that the nationwide issue we’re facing today?”

you look up at harvey, a faux expression of sympathy on your face. “He doesn’t like the color pink, sir.”

that makes harvey’s brow raise, for two reasons. one, his associates shouldn’t have the time to be complaining about any colors. & two, you’ve been on a first name basis with harvey for a year. he doesn’t mind people calling him sir, but he definitely does mind when it’s you, batting your lashes & giving him a look thats sure to distract him for the rest of the day.

“You shouldn’t have time to worry about the color pink. Time is money, money is time, and if you have time to complain then your workload must not be large enough to satiate your.. innate genius.”

harvey pulls out his cellphone while talking, as if he couldn’t be bothered to give them the time of day — which he really can’t. he’s not really typing anything, but they’ll never know that.

“Don’t be sad she’s not as miserable as the rest of you. Get back to work.”

mumbles of “yes sir” can be heard throughout the office as they move to gather their things & get up, obeying the order given to them with only slight disdain.

“Thanks, Harvey.”

he reaches for the two-pack of oreos on your desk, grabbing one & handing it back to you.

“Nobody puts baby in the corner.”

this makes your brows furrow as you smile, & he bites into his cookie as you reach for yours. he quickly notices the look on your face.

“What?”

“Dirty dancing?”

he gives you a look of his own. “Sir?”

you smile as he walks away, getting back to work of his own. & you fail to notice the associates ears tuned into your small conversation as you bite into your cookie. hey, what’s the worst that could happen?

“Thanks, Baby.”

“Hey, Baby, could you-“

“Where’s Baby?”

“I need this for Baby.”

you stand corrected. jessica pearson herself joins in after a mere day. “Baby, I need you to reschedule that meeting with Mr. Sawyer. Give him my sincerest apologies- I gotta run.”

“Yes ma’am.”

she quickly gathers her things & leaves, in a rush to complete her full schedule. once she’s gone, you put your head in your hands, sighing. your official nickname is baby.

and you like it.

[the-sinister-story-teller]

BR0KEN COLORS & YBG HEADCANONS (P1)

~~~~~~~~ A/N: This post is being made because whilst I was looking through Br0ken colors headcanons for Rasmus for...No particular reason (I SIMP YES IT IS TRUE ToT). Anyways, this is going to be a mash up of all sorts of characters from both Your Boyfriend and Br0ken Colors!

Mentions: both games have possessive stalkers so...bare in mind this will have HEAVY gore, mentions of sexual interactions, stalking, characters kinks, obsessiveness, possessiveness, stockholm syndrome if you SQUINT hard enough, GN!Reader, and murder.

! ALL ART USED FOR CHARACTERS IS NOT MINE AND BELONGS TO THE ARTIST/ORIGINAL CREATOR !

~~~~~~~

Damon:

Oh my fucking god- How do I start? Uh- Well, he is...OUTRAGEOUSLY smitten for you.

I mean, this man has left roses at your doorstep every single day, morning and night. When you leave for work and when you come back, there's always, ALWAYS, a rose.

The only reason he KNOWS where you live is due to DG. He begged DG to give your address to him so he could...leave gifts.

He has a whole wall dedicated to photos of you, items of yours, your FAVORITE items, and even a bit of clothing.

When he interacted with you, he was bright red. Red as can be from just SEEING you in his flower shop.

He made it his POINT to get to know you. Well...pretend to get to know you.

Assuming you're COMPLETELY oblivious to him stalking you, ect, he takes you out on 'dates' on the regular.

DG helps keep track of all the people you interact with.

This helps Damon know who he needs to take out. That one guy from the convenience store? He went missing a LONG time ago.

Once he finally gets to dates you, oh lord...

He has done ANYTHING for you. Top, Bottom, BOTH! Anything.

However he only did it on ONE condition.

You let him carve his name on your body. Could be ANYWHERE.

He loves seeing the crimson run down your body, it's a gorgeous color on you.

BITE. HIM. OMFG IT WILL MAKE THIS MAN WEAK IN THE KNEES!! Mark him UP with bites. All over him, he loves to show them off.

Dominate him. He will call you mommy, daddy, baby, ANYTHING.

Whimpers so FUCKING much.

He gives or receives, either way, HAIR PULLING. If you're into it, he'll yank your hair back, if not though he'll be soft with his touch. Pull his hair as HARD as you want, he'll go fucking feral.

"Mmh...You taste like heaven...Pull my hair harder lovie, I can take it...I love it when you push me around~ "

Rasmus:

LAWD...You either got bullied by him, OR he met you at a party. Either way, he was down. Down BAD.

Once dating, he seeks CONSTANT affection when alone.

PDA is ok, but keep it to a minimal of cheek kisses and hand holding, that's about it.

But the moment you two are behind closed doors, he's ALL over you.

Whether that be him just venting about his step-mother and the pressure his father is (albeit not TRYING to) putting on him.

Run your fingers through his hair and he'll melt like putty in your arms.

He's a thigh guy, NOBODY IS CHANGING MY MIND ON THIS I WILL THROW HANDS OVER THIS! (jk obviously)

He fucking loves piercings, on you OR him. He adores them, he thinks they're hot and a sign of 'independence'.

He will take you to lingerie stores and help pick out lingerie with you, with ZERO shame.

He isn't obsessive like Damon or DG, but he is protective. It can be overbearing sometimes, ESPECIALLY when you drive.

Due to what happened with his mother, he doesn't like when you drive by yourself. He wouldn't live with himself knowing you could get hurt.

He isn't one to be topped, but ask him to top you and oh lord you'll get that and SO much more.

He'd pile drive into you in front of a mirror, just to humiliate and fluster you.

You've met his dad but he has yet to introduce you to his step-mother...

You better bet your happy ass he's using his claws on you. He definitely uses his iron claws when he's feeling extremely antsy.

Gentle sex is a thing with him, he loves both rough and gentle sex equally.

He'll let you BE on top and ride him, but don't expect him to be submissive.

Demisexual! (according to his character page!)

"Taking me so fucking well...Wonder how long it'll take before you pass out gorgeous...You think you can stay awake a bit longer~? "

Peter:

It's Peter.

I dunno what you want from me-

He's as psychotic as they get girlies, boys, all the in between and above.

HOOOOOWEVER...

Jk there's no HOWEVER.

He has every article of clothing. T-shirt, pants, sweatpants, shorts, undergarments, fucking EVERYTHING. At least, one of each.

Shockingly, it's all your favorites (it's not very shocking is it?).

He does it because it's the clothing you wear the most, and though it's OBVIOUS and could get him CAUGHT, but lord...He loves your smell. Addicted to it, even.

Smother him. Like it or not, you're his. It sucks for a bit, but you should learn to get used to him.

He purrs, constantly around you.

He also cuddles you everyday when you wake up and when you fall asleep.

Expect breakfast in bed and dinner! You never have to lift a finger around the house, he does it all for you.

Sex with Peter is...strange.

On one hand, he can be loving, romantic, and gentle, prioritizing your pleasure.

On the other hand, if he's feeling particularly jealous, he'll pile drive into you till the both of you are tearing up from overstimulation.

He's carved your name onto his chest, and carved his name into your chest, or stomach.

He's down to try anything with you. ANYTHING.

He's more than happy to get topped by you, he loves the thought of you taking control over him.

Don't call him Peter in bed, use pet names like 'baby' or 'honey', or something along the lines of that. With him hating his name, it doesn't end well.

Granted he kinda likes hearing his name from you, but not during sex. He likes pet names better, kinky or not.

"C'mon baby one more? Let me tear one more orgasm from that pretty body from yours...I love the way you squeal and squirm~ "

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/n: I'm definitely making a part 2. List some characters you wanna see, and I'll see if I can do 'em! (LEEVI IS GONNA BE IN THE NEXT ON IT'S DEFINITE!!)

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 10

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family’s restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn’t see coming–one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn’t sure they’ll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

“Are you sure you’re fine on your own?” Kie asks over the phone as Isla walks down the sidewalk at Chapel Hill. “I can catch the next ferry and meet you there.”

Isla snickers. “Why? You don’t wanna be Mom’s helper?” she asks teasingly.

Her sister scoffs. “She’s practically a bridezilla right now.” Kie pauses and Isla hears her mom’s voice in the background. “Mom said she emailed you the details of the number of desserts and stuff that need to be ordered. And for the decorations, she just wants you to get the flowers. Everything else she said we’ll get from here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Isla says, weaving past other pedestrians as she walks in the direction of her mom’s favorite bakery. “Do you want anything while I’m here?”

“No, I’m chill,” Kie says. “Let me know when you’re headed back.”

“Will do,” Isla answers before ending the call.

It’s a beautiful day out, not too unbearably warm as it tends to get in the summer. The baby blue romper she wears is perfect for this kind of weather, sunglasses shielding her from the sun as she approaches the bakery. Her parents’ twentieth wedding anniversary is quickly approaching, and they decided to throw a party to celebrate. And as much as their mom loves to host a good party, she tends to stress herself out when it comes to the planning part of it, so Isla and her sister have been recruited to help pull it together.

So while Kie is back at home finalizing the guest list, the music arrangement, and caterer, Isla is in charge of dealing with the dessert, flowers, and other decorations. Fortunately, their mom is a Type A personality, so when Isla checks the email Kie was talking about, everything that Isla needs to do is written out in detail.

Entering the bakery, the air conditioner blasting her upon entry. The teal, pink and white theme is bright and surprisingly not an eyesore, and the employees behind the counter greet her with friendly grins. The next couple of minutes are spent with Isla placing the order her mom requested: a three tiered cake, three dozen cupcakes, brownies, and an assortment of cookies, all to be delivered at least two hours before the party starts. She charges it to her dad’s credit card, as instructed, and once that order is placed, she gets herself an iced latte before heading off to her next stop: the flower shop.

She doesn’t mind running these errands, her Beats covering her ears as she makes her way down the sidewalk before letting them hang around her neck when she enters the shop. Isla leisurely admires the various types of flowers, the assortment of colors, petals, and scents that surround her.

Her fingers brush along the petals of sunflowers, her favorite flowers, a smile tugging on her lips. She admires the softness of the petals, just as her phone rings in her pocket. Pulling it out, her smile widens a little when she sees Rafe’s name on the screen. “Hello?” she asks, head tilting as she admires the wall of baby’s breath.

“Hi,” Rafe says. Isla can hear the smile in his voice, one that makes her cheeks warm. God, when the hell was the last time she has been so giddy over a guy? “Out of curiosity, are sunflowers your favorites?”

Isla pauses, gaze dropping to the sunflowers before she spins around and looks out the window pointing to the street. A surprised huff of a laugh escapes her when she sees Rafe standing out on the sidewalk, one hand in his pocket and the other holding the phone to his ear, grinning at her. Isla raises her eyebrows as he raises his free hand in a wave, shaking her head as she gestures him inside.

She sees him laugh. “What’re you doing here?” she asks through the phone as he enters the store, the bell above the door jingling.

Rafe chuckles, hanging up the call as he approaches her, making his way around the pots and flower arrangements. Isla can’t help but admire him, wearing a simple outfit of blue pants and a white button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and sunglasses hanging from the neck. He looks good, the sight of him making her pulse quicken as she slowly pockets her phone.

“I met up with some friends earlier,” he tells her, coming to a stop in front of her. Isla doesn’t think she’ll ever get over how much taller he is than her. She has to tilt her head back just to maintain eye contact. “Remembered you telling me you’d be out here running errands, figured I’d keep you company.�� He raises an eyebrow, turning his body towards the front of the store as he points to the door with his thumb. “Unless you want me to go.”

“No,” Isla says with a burgeoning smile. “I could use the company.”

His answering grin is panty-dropping, which is super inconvenient given that they’re in public. He tilts his head, a silent go ahead, and Isla chuckles as she walks over to the counter to place the order, in accordance to her mom’s email. As Isla talks to the florist, Rafe stands next to her, elbow resting on the counter and body facing hers with little space between them.

While the employee puts in the order in their system, Rafe speaks up, “So you never answered my question.” When Isla raises a questioning eyebrow at him, he clarifies, “Are sunflowers your favorite?”

Isla smiles, tilting her head. “Why do you wanna know?”

His smile is boyish and utterly flirtatious, and Isla is no better with the way her chest flutters as he looks down at her. “For future reference, of course.”

His answer makes heat pool into her cheeks, the mere thought of Rafe buying her flowers both crazy and thrilling. As she pulls out her dad’s credit card to hand over to the employee, Isla looks away from Rafe and answers, almost shyly, “Yeah, they are,” before hiding her smile by wrapping her lips around the straw to sip at her iced latte.

Once the order at the florist is placed, they walk out of the shop, Rafe opening the door for her to let her exit first. “You got any other errands you need to run?” he asks, putting on his sunglasses.

“No,” she says, putting away her headphones in her tote bag and wearing her own sunglasses. She glances up at him, biting the inside of her cheek before asking, “What about you? You got any plans?”

Rafe tilts his head back, letting the sun bathe his face as the corner of his mouth curves up. Isla’s not sure if she’s ever seen him smile this much. “I was thinking of heading to the park, just chilling for a bit.” He looks down at her. “If that interests you.”

Isla’s heart stutters. “Lead the way.”

*****

“Oh! Wait, can we go in here for a minute?” Isla asks, stopping in front of her favorite bookstores out here on the mainland. 

When she glances at Rafe, he dips his chin a nod. “Let’s go,” he says, pulling open the door for her.

She’s not surprised at the gentlemanly traits he exhibits; he may have behaved like an asshole in the past, but he was born and raised on Figure Eight. The families there raise their kids to be the cream of the crop, in every sense of the word.

The bookstore smells like it always does; paper, aged leather, old books. Isla inhales deeply as she smiles politely at the girl behind the counter before heading towards the romance aisle. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees Rafe following after her, sunglasses still on yet a smile tugging on his face the moment she looks at him, and her heart does a silly flip.

They haven’t had a chance to see each other since they kissed at Midsummers two days ago, but they’ve been texting a lot. All of the time. In the midst of hanging out with her friends and helping her parents plan the party, she and Rafe get to know each other a little more and more through their texts. But spending real time with him, that’s what Isla wants, especially if there’s a chance he’ll kiss her again. Because, Goddamn, she can’t stop thinking about that kiss. It has tilted her world on its axis, her skin growing warm just by playing it on a loop in her mind.

The worst part is she can’t even talk to anyone about it; not her sister, not Sarah or Cleo. So for the last two nights, she has been laying in bed, replaying the kiss over and over again in between texting Rafe, a development in her life she didn’t see coming at all. 

Isla’s fingers brush along the spines of the books, gaze slipping over them to see if any catch her eye. She’s also well aware of Rafe’s presence, biting back a smile as she pulls out a book with an intriguing title and flips it to read the summary. As she does so, she can feel Rafe’s gaze on her, leaning his shoulder against the shelf with arms crossed over his chest, and the longer she pretends not to notice his stare, the warmer her cheeks get under his eyes.

Not taking her gaze away from the book, she tries to keep her tone casual and indifferent when she asks, “You gonna look around too, or stay here and play bodyguard?”

“The latter,” he says smoothly, unapologetically. “You’ve got a habit of running into trouble.”

The corner of her mouth tugs up, sliding her gaze from the book to his unfairly handsome face. “Must be the Pogue in me.”

Amusement lights up his blue eyes, lips curling up in that boyish smile. There’s no sign of that disdain and disgust that used to appear on his face at the mere mention of Pogues—the fact that it even existed in the first place should be enough to have Isla running away from Rafe. Maybe it’s because it’s not there anymore that has her interest in him deepening. Maybe he’s just a really good actor and pretending he doesn’t care about the Pogue versus Kook stuff anymore. Then again, how can someone flip a switch that quickly?

Oh, she hates this. She hates that just when she’s giving into him, into these feelings that threaten to take over, something pops up that makes doubt creep through. Kind of like hearing JJ’s voice in her head, one of his many speeches about how Pogue are epic and Kooks suck to all hell, despite the fact that Isla, Kie, and Sarah are from Kook families. 

“You’ve got the soul of a Pogue, though. So it doesn’t count,” is what JJ always says.

The difference between the two types of people is always there. Rafe was someone who believed in it too, just like JJ. Now he’s here, with her, having kissed her, so have the lines blurred for him?

Instead of responding to her statement directly, Rafe clicks his tongue and Isla blinks when his hands cup her cheeks, his chin dipping to look her in the eyes. “Your mind is spinning. It’s making me dizzy,” he says, making Isla’s lips part with a disbelieving scoff at the fact that he could tell so easily. Now, though, her mind spins with the sensation of his skin against hers. “We can talk when we get to the park, if that’s what you want.”

“Yeah?” she asks, unsure why she’s a little surprised.

His smile is soft. “Yeah.” He nods towards the shelf. “Get what you want. I’m gonna look around, too.”

Isla nods, trying not to focus on the disappointment she feels when his hands fall away from her and he backs away with a smile, before turning the corner to head to another aisle.

Maybe a conversation would help; they’ve talked about random, getting-to-know-you type stuff over texts, which is almost funny given that they’ve known each other their whole lives. She doesn’t want to insult Rafe again the way she had that day at the country club, but Isla’s curiosity is piqued. She hasn’t asked him yet what’s changed, when his feelings for her changed. She knows first hand that guys can be a little vague and touchy when it comes to talking about their feelings, so she’s going to try to word her questions carefully, but she needs to ask them for the sake of the doubt that annoyingly keeps cropping up.

It seems like the two of them have talked about loads of things, except the subject that really matters. Then again, it’s probably better to talk about those things in person, rather than over text. 

Isla limits herself to just one book, which is a great feat on her part, and wanders down the aisles in search of Rafe. She finds him in the middle of the science fiction aisle, standing tall with his head bent as he reads the inner jacket of the book in his hands. Isla rolls her bottom lip into her mouth, admiring the afternoon sun shining through the front glass walls of the store and bathing Rafe in a near ethereal glow and, God, this isn’t what she needs—a hot guy reading a book in her favorite store. It sounds like the start of a wet dream.

She slowly makes her way over to him, hugging her book to her chest and grip tightening on it when he turns his head to look at her. “Hey,” he greets. “Good to go?”

Isla dips her chin in a nod. “Yeah.”

Rafe closes the book. “Let’s go.”

They walk to the counter and Isla lets out a quiet exclaim of surprise when Rafe plucks the book out of her hand and puts it on the counter with his, already pulling out his credit in one fell swoop. “Uh, wait,” Isla starts through a laugh, widening her eyes at him as the cashier scans the books. “You don’t have to pay for mine.”

He merely shoots her a look, as though he’s saying come on, now, while handing over his credit card without taking his gaze off of Isla. “I know I don’t have to,” he says. “But I’d like to, if it’s all the same to you.”

Isla’s cheeks warm, biting her bottom lip though it does nothing to keep her from smiling. She finds herself unable to look away—until he glances at her with a ghost of a smirk, and she’s cutting her gaze away with the heat in her cheeks intensifying—and totally missing the way the cashier smiles at the two of them.

Rafe carries the paper bag, the cardboard straps hanging from his fingers as they exit the store and continue to talk in the direction of the park. “Thank you,” Isla says, glancing up at him through her sunglasses as they walk. 

His smile is sweet and charming. “Anytime.”

Their hands, hanging at their sides, are inches away, the space in between teasing them to brush together as they make their way down the sidewalk. Isla knows very well how Rafe’s hands feel against her body, her fingers itching to interlock with his, but she keeps the desire at bay as the park comes into view.

With it being the summer and the weather being near perfect, the park is busy with children and families, but Rafe leads her to a spot by a tree that provides a nice amount of shade. “Perfect,” Rafe breathes out as they settle down on the soft grass, the tree trunk thick and wide enough for them both to sit side by side, their backs against it.

The grass tickles against the bare skin of Isla’s legs, exposed thanks to her romper, but it’s a sensation she’s used to. The bark is steady and smooth at her back as she leans against it, her bag resting at her side and legs outstretched in front of her, taking a moment to watch the kids running around chasing each other, their laughter and chatter dancing along the breeze.

Rafe sits beside her, his arm pressing against hers, the warmth from his skin through the light cotton of his shirt seeping into her. For a moment, neither of them say anything, basking in the bluster of their surroundings, until Rafe’s casual tone breaks through their silence. “You think this counts as our second date?”

Isla’s pulse skitters, biting back a smile. She doesn’t look at him, head leaning back against the tree as she answers slowly, “I wouldn’t mind that.” Glancing at him to her right, she sees his slow grin, and Isla’s stomach tumbles with nerves because of the question dancing on her tongue. But instead of overthinking it, she looks up at the green leaves providing them shade and starts, “Can I ask you something?”

Rafe doesn’t seem surprised. He’s expecting her questions, given that he noticed her demeanor at the bookstore. “Shoot,” he says, bringing his right knee up and resting his arm on it.

A breeze blows by, and Isla pauses when the aroma of Rafe’s cologne—and whatever else just makes him, him—reaches her nose. She tries to breathe through it, to keep her mind on track, even if it proves to be a little difficult. Everything about him is distracting. “If we. . . If we do this,” she starts, choosing her words carefully and trying not to stumble over them. Her fingers nervously play with a loose thread at the hem of her romper shorts. “If we keep seeing each other, would it bother you if we kept it lowkey for a while? Just between me and you?” When Rafe turns his head to look at her, Isla doesn’t try to read his expression and instead continues anxiously, “I mean, y’know, unless I’m totally getting ahead of myself and in that case we can totally ignore—”

“Isla,” Rafe cuts her off gently. She presses her lips together, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as she forces herself to meet his gaze, heart thudding a little too harshly. Their arms press together, especially when Rafe leans towards her, and she sees the way his eyes soften as his gaze flickers between hers. “I want to keep seeing you,” he assures, making the breath silently hitch in her throat at the sincerity in his voice, his bright blue eyes. “And I already figured that we’d keep this on the down low, until you’re ready to tell your friends.”

Okay. Wow. Okay. Talking so candidly about them makes her pulse quicken excitedly, her head spin a little, but she pushes on. “And what about you?” she asks, trying not to get distracted by how close he is. “Would you tell your friends about us?” Because that’s what they’re discussing: becoming an us.

Plus, Isla’s not too sure how she feels about Topper and Kelce potentially knowing about her and Rafe, while her own friends are in the dark. Not to mention that she definitely doesn’t trust them to keep their mouths shut and not use this knowledge to taunt her friends, which would only fuck up her telling them about her and Rafe herself. One thing’s for sure, when the time comes, she needs to be the one to tell them. If they find out any other way, the sting of betrayal will be worse than it already will be in general. She’s not ready for that conversation.

Rafe tilts his head at her, the ends of his bangs brushing along his forehead. “I won’t if you don’t want me to,” he tells her.

“Really?” she asks, her eyebrows flicking up. “It wouldn’t bother you, keeping a secret from them?”

He frowns at her, like her question is silly. “I’ll do it for your peace of mind,” he says, and the answer is so simple and casually spoken, yet it knocks the air out of her lungs at the sheer consideration behind them. Almost every conversation they have had so far proves to Isla that there’s more to Rafe Cameron than she ever knew—than he ever showed them. And she wonders, not for the first time, if the asshole, getting-into-fights-with-her-friends Rafe Cameron is just a mask and the one before her is the real one. “It’s no problem, Isla, really.” He sighs, elbow on his knee as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I know you have a lot more to lose than I do, if your friends find out before you think they’re ready to hear about us.”

God, hearing him call them an us does something funny to her heart. Makes it flutter, soar, electrify all at once. She watches him for a moment, the breeze rustling the leaves above them and cooling her warm skin as she admires the sharp line of his jaw, his aristocratic nose, the sweep of his eyelashes—and those lips. Lips she has kissed. Lips whose taste she now knows. Somehow, it all fuels her into asking, “What changed?”

Rafe’s gaze meets her, giving a slight tilt of his head as confusion washes over his handsome features. “What do you mean?”

There’s a certain level of vulnerability that comes with asking the question that dances on the tip of Isla’s tongue. But the conversation has come this far, and Rafe hasn’t made her feel silly or embarrassed for bringing up this topic in general. So Isla allows herself to be a little bit more open, a little more raw as she clarifies, “Between us. What made you change your mind?”

She doesn’t need to be any more specific in that, because she sees the realization dawn on Rafe. He leans back momentarily, a smile touching his lips as his gaze flicks upwards thoughtfully. Isla knows now isn’t the time to admire the sharp line of his jaw, but it’s kind of difficult to look away from, even as her pulse quickens in anticipation of his answer. And the one he gives isn’t what she’s expecting.

“Sarah’s birthday.”

Isla blinks at him a couple of times, eyebrows furrowing together. “Sarah’s birthday?” she repeats slowly, her gaze darting away in thought. “That was, like, three months ago.”

“I know,” Rafe says, looking at her with a small smile.

“We didn’t even—” Isla shakes her head in confusion, trying to make sense of what he said. “I don’t think we even talked that night.”

“We didn’t,” he confirms with a nod as Isla thinks back to Sarah’s birthday. She had had a party at her house, a big one. No different than their regular house parties, but this one included a four tier birthday cake Ward had specially ordered for the birthday girl. Rafe leans his head back against the tree, though it’s tilted towards her, blue eyes locking with her green. “But there was one point where I saw you with Wheezie in her room. The two of you were laying on the floor and coloring, of all things,” he explains with a chuckle that’s both amused and fond. “You looked so relaxed and I don’t know. It wasn’t a bolt of lightning or anything. I just. .  . Looked at you, and something changed. A switch flipped. It was that simple.”

Isla stares at him in disbelief, lips parted slightly as her mind flashes back to that night. She remembered getting a headache at one point during the party, the alcohol and pounding music only making it worse. But she hadn’t wanted to leave her best friend’s party, especially when Sarah hadn’t even cut the cake yet. So Isla had sought refuge somewhere, and somehow ended up upstairs and came across Wheezie. 

The younger girl, as much as she wanted to be involved in her older siblings’ lives, wasn’t too curious about the party. Wheezie had been laying on her stomach on the floor of her bedroom, several of those adult cozy coloring books around her, along with markers. She had taken one look at Isla’s weary expression and invited her to join, and that’s how Isla had ended up, for about forty minutes, coloring with Wheezie while the party raged on in the rest of the house. She hadn’t, at one point, ever noticed Rafe nearby, so his revelation is more than a little shocking.

And for that to be such a significant moment for him without her even realizing it. . . She hadn’t really interacted with Rafe much—if at all—until weeks later when she had run into him that night her car broke down. He never gave any kind of indication that he had any sort of feelings for her that night. Or, well, maybe the fact that he helped her out was enough of a sign, and she just hadn’t connected the dots. Though, to be fair, Isla had no idea there were any dots to connect at the time.

“Wow,” is what she says, lamely, and it makes her cheeks flush when she sees Rafe’s eyebrows flick up in amusement. Isla clears her throat, looking away and at the park ahead, watching some kids run around. “That. . . Was unexpected.”

His smile widens, devastatingly handsome with those dimples, as sunlight peeks through the leaves and branches, bathing his face in strips of bright golden rays. Rafe’s voice is nothing but playful as he says, “Sorry it’s not as dramatic as your romance books.”

Her cheeks heat even more as she gives his arm a shove, pulling a laugh from him. “Shut up,” Isla mumbles, though a short chuckle escapes her, too. “I’m just surprised that’s all it took. After, you know, years of us not even being friends.”

“Life’s real funny that way, I’d say,” he hums. Head still lolling her way, he arches a brow and asks, “What about you? Because I know for a fact it took you longer than it did me.”

Isla hums in affirmation, not seeing any reason to lie. “Honestly?” she starts, pulling both of her legs up and wrapping her arms around them as she turns her head to look at him. “After our date.” Isla rests her cheek on the top of her knees, a smile pulling at her cheeks as their eyes meet once more. “You kind of had me hooked right then and there.” Her smile widens, some of her shyness melting away when Rafe’s gaze softens. “No one has ever gone through that much trouble on a date for me.”

His smile shifts, maybe a little awed, and his hand reaches out to the cup the back of her head. Rafe dips his own head, closer to hers, and says, “It wasn’t any trouble at all, Isla.” She almost sighs at the way he speaks her name, but stops herself. Mostly because she’s dazed by the way his eyes shine bright, looking into hers. “These dates are, uh—” He pauses to release a soft laugh, almost sounding nervous, as Isla watches him. “They’re something I hope can happen often.” 

This time, Isla does let out a breath, the corners of her mouth tipping up. “Me too,” she confesses quietly. Her throat works as she feels his fingers threading through her hair, to do nothing but stay there, and she finds herself asking, “Do you think we’ll be able to? I mean, if we’re keeping this quiet, how do we—”

“We’ll figure it out,” Rafe assures, hinting at a dimple when he smiles slightly. She feels herself relax a bit when she feels his thumb stroke her head.

“Really?” she asks, lifting her head as her forehead creases in worry. “Because between our friends and anyone else who’ll see us and spill it to our friends before we’re ready to tell them, hiding it might. . .” Isla exhales sharply through her nose, allowing herself to be vulnerable once again. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrow together, pulling back slightly at her words. She’s half afraid that she insulted him—again—but Rafe just shakes his head. He shifts so he’s not up against the tree anymore, sitting to face her with his legs crossed. “Isla,” he starts, his voice low but serious. “I won’t regret anything, as long as we’re together. I don’t care if we have to hide our relationship, no matter how long. I know we’ll make it work.”

Isla gently tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, eyes flickering between his, even as his briefly dips to her mouth. His words do fill her with relief, some of the tension leaving her body. There’s genuine determination in his blue eyes and her throat locks as she realizes that he’s serious about the two of them. The butterflies return to her stomach, and it pushes her to smile a little as she says, “So we’re in a relationship?”

He blinks and she swears pink dusts his cheeks and in that moment, Isla realizes that Rafe Cameron blushing is a sight that will be ingrained in her mind—and a sight she will try to recreate as often as she can. “I, uh—” Rafe stumbles over his words and Isla doesn’t help him out, her smile only growing and eyebrows flicking up in teasing expectation. “That’s not—” He laughs, letting go of her and rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s not how I wanted to, like, ask you.”

Isla shifts, the butterflies in her stomach intensifying so she’s sitting to face him, too, crossing her legs. Excitement shoots through her, warming her from the inside out, as strands of hair brush across her face with the breeze. “Ask me what?” she prompts, tucking the hair behind her ear.

Rafe loosens a breath, tilting his head back and giving Isla a pretty view of the column of his neck. “I was going to take you out a couple of more times before I asked you.”

She laughs, feeling more and more relaxed by the second, despite her fluttering stomach. “Such a gentleman,” she says playfully. “Fine. If you wanna wait, then we can wait.”

Rafe straightens his head, shooting her a bemused look. “Thanks,” he drolls, making her laugh again. It brings a smile to his face, too.

“But do I have to wait for more dates for you to kiss me again?” Isla asks with a tilt of her head and a burst of confidence, even as her cheeks warm. She’s not always as confident as her sister, since her shyness often comes out, but sometimes she’ll have her moments—like right now. Like being bold enough to let him know that she wants him to kiss her again. Because, Goddamn, she’s been thinking of their kiss since Midsummers.

Rafe’s gaze snaps to hers, briefly looking surprised before his lips curl up in a boyish grin. Her stomach dips when his fingers lightly grasp her chin as he leans towards her, her pulse quickening the closer he gets. “Absolutely not,” he says, his voice dropping to a toe curling murmur until the distance between them disappears and his lips finally meet hers.

Her heart sighs the moment he kisses her, Isla’s eyes fluttering shut as she leans into the kiss, Rafe’s fingers sliding from her chin to cup her cheek. His lips are already familiar to her, the kiss languid despite Isla’s racing pulse as Rafe uses his gentle grip on her face to tilt her head the way he wants, deepening the kiss with his tongue tracing the seam of her lips. Isla parts them and Rafe slides his tongue inside her mouth to tease hers. 

Electricity shoots through her veins, her own hands gripping his thighs in hopes of stopping herself from climbing onto his lap. They were in public, after all, with kids around, even as Rafe tugs at her bottom lip with his teeth in a way that makes heat pool in her panties. And they can’t go further than this, right now, and that fucking sucks. “Rafe,” she murmurs against his lips—a plea and apology at the same time.

“I know, baby,” he says, the kiss slowly breaking as he brushes his nose alongside hers. “Just missed you.”

She can’t help but grin, slightly hooded eyes looking at him fondly. “Since Midsummers?”

“Hell yeah,” he says with a rough chuckle. His hand is still on her cheek, his head tilting and only inches between them as his softened eyes gaze at her. “You have no idea how often you’re on my mind.”

Her heart jumps, his smile growing as she honestly says, “Feeling is mutual.”

[mara-and-its-the-same]

Incoming Steddie thoughts…..(brief mentions of Eddie losing weight, but it’s really just one sentence and he’s ok)

So you know how Eddie tapes his rings to make them fit? You’ve seen the pictures of his hands. Yes, you have don’t lie to me. So he wraps tape around the underside to make them fit his fingers.

Yeah, so what if they’d been together for long enough that they want to give each other things. But like subtle ones, cus like, 1980s middle america… So Eddie gives Steve his guitar pick necklace because of course he would, and he can just tuck it into his shirt. (and I really feel like Steve is a necklace type of guy, like not just a chain guy- no absolutely not he needs some kind of pendant somehow) But Steve needs to give Eddie something inconspicuous too, something people won’t notice right away and even if they did, something they wouldn’t question.

So he decides on his class ring but Whump Whump, Steve has bigger fingers than Eddie and he already knows that so before he gives it to him he gets some string and he wraps it around the back because it’s softer than tape.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah Stevie?”

“You know how you gave me your necklace?”

“Yeah and I told you I don’t want anything back so get that hand out of that pocket and it better be empty”

“I didn’t get you anything, I already had it.”

“I said you don’t have to give me anything.”

“Too late, take it” and he presses it right into his palm.

Eddie looks at it and he shakes his head and makes a face, “Stevie, what- I can’t take this from you.”

“Yes you can, I’m giving it to you. Does it fit?”

“Yeah, uh perfectly, actually”

Then nobody really notices for a while, Eddie’s hands always flying around so fast no one gets a chance to really look at the numbers engraved on the side. They all know they’re together, but no one really gets the intensity of their relationship, considering they’ve only been together for so long. But they do notice the different colored string on the other side. Then Dustin and Gareth get worried that he’s losing weight again. So they ask him about it and he cannot make eye contact and he’s just fidgeting with his rings, which only worries them more but then they see his goofy little smile under his bangs and he just spills about how he and Steve traded and it was so cute and “Steve’s just so ugh- I can’t even make it into words, but he got the size perfect and everything, and I just-“ and they haven’t said they love each other out loud yet.

Then one day he’s cleaning all his rings so he has to take the string off and he sees the engraving underneath it. On one side, in the standard times new roman every one got, a nice, even SH. Then as he’s unwrapping it, he sees something else, and he starts panicking “oh my god I scratched it, he’s gonna be so upset, I scratched it Jesus H Christ.” Then after he paces his bathroom for a solid 15 minutes, his hands dragging down his face, rubbing his nose, he finishes unwinding it and there, in the most scraggly looking etching is a little, uneven EM

@haydipoof

[phoenix-writer2]

lipstick love

mastelist

synopsis: Percy loves red on you, especially on your lips.

College!Au

pairing: Percy Jackson x fem!reader daughter of Dionysus

warnings: fluff, kissing, lipstick, Percy being Percy, make out (but no smut), love, no prof reading, writing on phone because my laptop died two days ago, if I forgot anything say it

Note: I love lipstick and Percy Jackson. So I thought I this could be good. Enjoy it♥️

Word Count: 1004

╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗♥️╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗♥️╔══ ≪ °❈° ≫ ══╗

Everyone knew that Percy Jackson's favourite colour was blue. If you asked one of his college mates or a complete stranger from his school, everyone knew the answer. But what nobody knew was that Percy also liked another colour. One that he had only discovered for himself a few years ago. And this time it had nothing to do with the sea, Sally's freshly baked biscuits or the colour blue in general.

Quite the opposite. The colour red was very different from blue. While blue was like the peaceful ocean, red was like a blazing fire. And the reason for this fire was none other than you. You who made Percy's world glow. You who gave him a reason to strive. Not to save the world, not to please the gods, no, just to be with you, to make you proud. And if he was really honest with himself, he would bring Olympus to his knees for you.

There were two sides of Percy. The one where he chased after you like a lost puppy and tried everything to get your attention by constantly saying your name and turning his sea green eyes into puppy eyes, the side where he brought you sweets and treats for no reason, and the one where he was sarcastic and cheeky. The side where he showed off your relationship, kissed you and pretended there wasn't a whole class watching. Whichever side of him it was, Percy didn't care what the people around him thought.

Red was a colour for him, which reminds him of you. He always says "I love this colour" whenever you wear it. But what he loved the most, was the red on your lips. He loved to smear the red and leave his marks behind. Loved to see your reaction after he was done painting his lips and your neck in red. He just adored the sign.

"Hey Darling, can you give me hairbrush?"

Percy was shaken out of his throughs. Your voice was like musik in his ears. Angels melody in the air. He was standing at the kitchen counter, when you came in, preparing a bowl of cereal.

You were dressed in a high waist baggy jeans and a black crop top. Your hair was messy and Percy knew you just had awaken from your nap. He looked to his right and saw the wooden hair brush laying there.

"Sure love"

He grabber it and tossed it to you. The objective almost hitting you on the head when you were still to sleepy to realize that it was flying toward you. But lucky enough did you catch it before you got a red hit mark on your forehead.

"So" asked Percy as he watched you how you tamed your hair. "Where are you going at this time?"

You pulled out a mini mirror from your pocket and an all too familiar red lipstick. You always wear it, so it had become your trademark. No y/n without red lips. Which, if Percy was completely honest, delighted him.

"Just to Annabeth", you mumble as you apply the red color to your lips. Percy watched enchanted as the color stuck to your lips. As if on automatic, he pushed himself away from the counter where he had been standing eating cereal and made his way to you.

You saw in your mirror only you and nothing else, so you didn't notice at first when Percy did get in front of you. While you were completely concentrated not to mess up your lips, Percy did get in front of you. He was a bit taller than you, around 3 inches. You didn't mind that because you liked to look in his see green eyes when looking up. Still concentrated on your lips, Percy took the little flip mirror and closed it. Now your attention was on him and only him and this made him happy.

You lowered your lipstick and put it back in your pocket to look at him. Your boyfriend had this shit eating grin on his lips as he looked at you with adoring eyes. You sighed.

"Darling", you began, but his lips were already on yours. The taste of see and salt stayed on your lips and a contented sigh escaped you as your arms wrapped around his neck and played with Percy's messy hair. Percy, as cheeky as he was, had made it his goal to spread your lipstick. Not just on your lips, but on his and your neck too. So when he moved his slightly chapped lips against yours, he transferred the red color to his lips.

His hands rested on your hips as he pulled you up and settled you on the counter of the kitchen. Your sweet sense overwhelmed him as he detached his lips from yours. You little disapproving noise escapes you and Percy smirked. He lowered his lips again, but this time on your neck. You sucked a breath as he began to spread the lipstick.

"Damn you Perseus Jackson, what would Dad say?"

Percy smirked against your skin. "Mr. D? He would turn me into a dolphin for touching you and kill me for making out with his only daughter."

That was no lie. Dionysus was short lived as he found out you and Perseus Jackson or, what he liked to call him Perry Johnson, were dating. Percy literally had to run from the god, while you calmed your father down.

While Percy picked your skin with kisses, you looked at the clock on the wall of your college department.

"Percy", you whispered. "I have to go"

With a little pout he take if from you, but the sign was it worth. All over your skin were lipstick marks from him. "Let's see what wise girl has to say to that", he smirked and pointed at the marks. You rummaging through your bag to find your mirror to see how bad it was. A goan escaped you when you saw the work Percy was very proud of.

"You're impossible", you scolded. Percy grinned again. "But you love me." you sigh again before smiling. "Yea I love you."

And with that your lips were on his again. Maybe Annabeth had to wait a little bit, bevor you showed up. But she already knew that because she knew Percy Jackson. So she waited without a care in the world and a book in her hands until Percy was satisfied with his lipstick smearing, which he called lipstick love.

Don't copy my work!

[pyrodolls]

possession (yandere bi-han/sub-zero x reader)

warnings: mentions of blood and murder, bi-han is possessive

summary: yandere bi-han takes care of your shitty ex boyfriend. reader is gender neutral.

a/n: i haven’t written a yandere character in sooo long. i chose bi-han just bc he’s easy to write as a yandere :3 anyways next one i write will be a yandere smoke x reader so stay tuned

bi-han was always possessive over you. the moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were his. he carefully pretended to be your friend and then court you like a normal person, hiding his true colors.

he knew he would most likely scare you away if he showed his true colors too soon. he had to wait until he knew you’d never leave him. he had to be patient. but he couldn’t hold back anymore after he saw you crying.

“love.. why are you crying?” bi-han asked, gently holding you in his arms.

“it’s just..” you hesitated to tell him, knowing that he doesn’t know about your ex-boyfriend. you haven’t told him yet.

your boyfriend held you, waiting patiently for your answer, and getting ready to comfort you. if someone said something to make you cry, bi-han would rip out their spine and bring it to you. if it was anything else, he would just hold you for hours and not let go.

“my ex. i can’t stop thinking about all the shit he did to me.” you admitted, wiping your tears.

bi-han’s gaze turned cold. “your ex? who is he? what did he do to you?”

his grip on you tightened. he needed to know who it was. so he can teach the bastard a lesson.

he was also jealous of your ex. he got to hold you first, he got to kiss you first, and he got to call you his. but he fucked up by hurting you. bi-han will not let him live with those sins.

you told him all about your ex and what he did to you. you opened up to bi-han about all the trauma you endured because of your ex. and how he was the reason you were hesitant to get in another relationship.

bi-han struggled to stay calm. how dare he hurt you...

he had the audacity to hurt you? you’re so precious. so delicate, like a flower. you were so lucky to have bi-han as a boyfriend. he can protect you. he can hold you and keep you safe from harm.

“where is he?” bi-han asked, but it sounded more like a demand.

“i don’t know? he’s most likely at his house right now. why?” you questioned.

“give me his home location.” bi-han commanded.

you looked up at him in confusion. “huh?”

“don’t make me repeat myself.” bi-han sneered.

startled by his sudden anger, you blurted out your ex’s location. bi-han immediately got up and left to find the bastard and make him pay for what he did.

you couldn't sleep that night. bi-han left and still hadn't came back yet. did something happen to him?

you were worried sick, until you heard rustling and grunting outside. that had to be him, right? nobody else is awake at this time.

you walked outside, barely being able to see anything, but you saw your boyfriend slowly dragging something behind him.

"bi-han? what is that?" you whispered. your boyfriend stopped in his tracks when he heard your voice.

you took a closer look at what he was dragging. it was a dead body... but it was unrecognizable, almost as if it was beat to death. you assumed it was just some random guy the lin kuei killed, until you noticed the clothes. that dead body had your ex-boyfriend's clothes.

"by the gods.. did you kill-"

"he cannot hurt you anymore. he was a fool to put you through pain. i simply taught him a lesson. and now, you can live in peace. with me." bi-han interrupted, as he dropped the body and held you in his bloody arms.

you looked up at him, and he had a terrifying look in his eyes. this man enjoyed beating your ex to death.

"you know i will do anything for you," bi-han continued. "if i must get my hands dirty in your honor, then so be it. you need me, don’t you? without me, more people will target you and damage you. you're welcome, my flower."

he was trying to convince you not to leave him. how could you leave, when he just demonstrated what he is capable of when he is angry?

"i don't know about this, bi-han..." you whispered.

his eyebrows furrowed. "what do you mean? you know i can protect you, so why can't you trust me? if anything were to happen to you... i would tear the world apart. if you dare defy me, then i must teach you a lesson."

you panicked. you didn't want to end up like your ex. "no! i'm not defying you, love."

"good. it pleases me that you and i can live happily together now. nobody can hurt you while i am around. i will not let that happen." bi-han mumbled.

he meant every word he said. he will keep you safe from harm. he would never hurt you, so you must stay with him.

[arachine]

— what's going on down there?: a dick analysis

ᥫ᭡ featuring :: jake sully, miles quaritch & norm spellman

ᥫ᭡ includes :: their human forms + avatar forms

ᥫ᭡ genre :: mature

ᥫ᭡ content warnings :: talking about dicks obviously, explicit sexual content (?), humor lol

ᥫ᭡ note :: if you know anything about arachine, you know i love a good dick analysis. these posts are intended for comedic purposes only, which means they’re not to be taken seriously.

— jake “ima slut you out” sully

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: as we all know, jake’s life on earth was very unfulfilling. he was a man who sacrificed his legs for the fate of the country, only to be disposed of into the unforgiving hands of society, with no way to reap the benefits (or lack thereof) that veterans were promised to receive. and after losing the privilege of mobility, his body changed drastically. he got smaller, his body got weaker, and yet, one thing remained—that dick! jake is a survivor, through and through—his personal motto is: if it ain’t broken, then it’s still working—and boy, he does not disappoint when it comes to the downstairs department. standing tall at 7 inches, is little jake (maybe not so little). when flaccid, his length measures at a solid 5.7 inches. definitely a grower. 

⟳ width: a little bit on the skinnier side, but he knows how to use it and that’s all that matters!

⟳ color: i think for the most part, his shaft definitely matches the rest of his body; though, i can see it maybe being slightly a little more darker at the base, like a very light beige. when he’s flaccid, his tip is a pretty pink, almost like a ballet slipper (aka the best pink). turns into an angry red when fully erect!

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: jake pegs me as the kinda guy who doesn’t really care? i mean, trimming isn’t foreign to him, because he has trimmed it before, and does so when he notices it’s gotten to be too long…but, i don’t think it’s something that he does often. to him, it’s just hair. he’s on his grown man shit, you know? 

02. curved?: uhm, yes! you know that one beyoncé lyric? yeah. 

03. any veins?: absolutely covered in ‘em

04. how he fucks with it: i’d like to think before his accident, he was a doggy style connoisseur—come on, it’s jake we’re talking about here. can’t nobody tell me otherwise! i just know he had bitches bent over, weaves sweated out, makeup all over the pillows…mans was f-u-c-k-i-n-g okay? fuckingggg. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: the masses may attack me, but it’s time i spoke up. the man has a monster schlong. a cooter cat killer, if you will. if you thought his human form was big, shit, you ain’t seen nothing yet! completely flaccid, his cock measures to about 10 inches. when fully hard, he grows an additional three! talk about impressive…

⟳ width: so thick that it basically slaps his thighs when he walks. the man could create a beat with it, get em into the soundcloud business now!

⟳ color: self explanatory tbh, it’s fucking blue. as blue as papa smurf’s ass. 

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that because he’s an avatar, he grows hair there. even if i’m wrong, i’m right. i don’t give a damn what james cameron says. he’s basically my character at this point, and i will him to have hair damnit! just…the idea of him having a full bush down there, in the wild, all primitive and shit…does something to me. idk. don’t ask me why i’m so nasty, blame my deadbeat father. 

02. curved?: is a banana yellow? there’s your answer. 

03. any veins?: i might have a brain aneurysm just thinking about it, but yes! god, yes. so many…so, so, so many. ribbed for her pleasure or whatever trojan said. 

04. how he fucks with it: is he still the doggy style connoisseur? yes. but now that’s got the strength of 20 men, backshots sound a whole lot like gunshots now. they say every time the mighty toruk makto thrusts into a cunt, a tree falls down or something. so, yes. fucks hard, fucks rough, fucks like he’s on a mission. what’s that one tik tok audio? “rest in peace to all the soldiers that died in the service, i dive in her cervix.” yeah, he lives by that. 

— miles “on your knees, cadet!” quaritch

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: just gonna cut right to the chase. he’s huge. like pussy splitting huge. i don’t care what anyone says, you can argue with ya friend, you can argue with ya mother, but you cannot argue with me! coming in at a solid 6 when flaccid, quaritch takes the cake for the biggest cock on this list (at least, human form wise). at full length, he measures to about 7.8 inches! 

‘booooo’ you say, well, guess what? it’s the truth, and i’m just the messenger. whether you hate him or love him, he’s just that guy. 

⟳ width: surprisingly average. but it’s okay, sometimes you can’t have the best of both worlds. 

⟳ color: if my memory serves me right, he was pretty tan in the first movie. so, i’m gonna stick with that and say that it’s a pretty tan that transitions into a pale pink. i don’t know if some of you have seen old dick, but their tips get less saturated with age. it’s a phenomenon (not really, the blood flow to the groin is just a lot slower, which can make it appear kind of gre—anyway, i digress!)

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: this man is a colonel, so he’s all about discipline and keeping things nice and tidy. so, obviously, his hygiene reflects that. i don’t think he goes completely bald, but he does give it a good trim. kind of like a fade…just imagine a patch of grey, prickly hair. yeah. 

02. curved?: yes, and since he’s older, it’s probably curved a lot. you could probably hang something on it. maybe a towel, or a lanyard. it’s definitely useful for something!

03. any veins?: god, i don’t know why, but i have it in my head that he’s on steroids. he’s just so buff and strong, and i mean, yeah, he could just be really fit…but he could also be a self-image obsessed freak who takes drugs to be the perfect soldier. the correlation, you ask? well, i just feel like people who take steroids are really veiny, and i feel like his dick would be really, really veiny. so, thus the rant about steroids. steroid dick. 

04. how he fucks with it: don’t let his age fool you. he may very well be pushing his late fifties, but he’s still a young man at heart—and he’s definitely got the sex drive to prove it! i can see his favorite position being something like missionary. not so much because he enjoys the intimacy of it (like being face to face), but more so because he’s got a size kink—and definitely a dacryphilia kink. he enjoys seeing his partners cry, whether in pain, or in pleasure, or both! so, when you’re fucking him, don’t expect anything romantic. he just wants to see your pretty little face all teary eyed and pathetic. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: so big you can see it from space; that’s how the RDA mfs know they’re close, because they can see the tip protruding from pandora. no, but seriously, it’s still really huge. like maybe 12-14 inches—maximum. 

⟳ width: probably twice as thick as a human’s forearm. and god, it’s sooooo heavy. big breeding balls to match. 

⟳ color: blue blue blue…like wet fun dip. with just as many stripes as the american flag or whatever. 

⟳ extra: 

01. groomed?: yes, but the hair is black instead of grey and it’s probably really straight because na’vi hair is straight as fuck. 

02. curved?: sir, yes sir. 

03. any veins?: what’d i say? steroid dick. but even worse (better) now bc he’s so damn tall, he needs all the blood he can get down there.

04. how he fucks with it: has you in all types of positions. his favorites are anything that shows off his new found strength, so i’m betting on full nelsons and mating presses. just fast, powerful strokes. lives by the motto: can’t stop, won’t stop.

— norm “what’s the sq root of 69?” spellman

. . . human form .*+!

⟳ length: i’m sorry to disappoint the norm fuckers (if there are any), but he’s not that big. when he’s soft, his cock measures to about 4.8 inches, and at most, 6.2 inches when hard. 

⟳ width: skinny dick. 

⟳ color: dawg he’s so white, it’s like hella pale and the tip is so pink that when he’s aroused, it looks like there’s something wrong.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: like jake, i don’t think he really cares.

02. curved?: straight like a pencil

03. any veins?: like two, and they’re really prominent because he’s so fucking pale.

04. how he fucks with it: i don’t think human norm is getting puss, let’s be real. 

. . . avatar form .*+!

⟳ length: i am a firm believer in N.W.B.C—nerds with big cocks. it’s just the universe’s way of saying thank you, they just…they just do so much for us, you know? norm may not have been packing down there in his human form, but this was his second chance at redemption. he’s now a proud member of N.W.B.C, sporting an impressive 15 inches. you know that one scene in the first spider-man when pete’s looking at himself in the mirror and he looks inside his briefs? yeah, that was norm when he found out. the man got so excited, he accidentally catapulted a scientist out of pandora’s atmosphere with the weight of his cock. joking. 

⟳ width: on the skinnier side but still toe curling, nonetheless.

⟳ color: laffy taffy blue, with little (big) blueberry balls.

⟳ extra:

01. groomed?: no, he’s too busy in the lab and getting na’vi puss.

02. curved?: unfortunately no

03. any veins?: more than before, which he was pleasantly surprised to see.

04. how he fucks with it: norm’s got a big dick, but he acts so shy, like he’s scared of it or something. like stop playing boy and drop them drawls, the fuck? anyway, i think norm’s a sub. he pegs me as the type of guy who likes strong women, women who’ll tell him to shut the fuck up (because he talks so much) and eat their pussies. i guess this makes him a munch. yeah, he’s a munch. ice spice actually wrote that song with him in mind!

© arachine 2023

[fryingpan1234567]

listen I knowwww Roach should be British. he was on a British task force. he’s got the flag on his uniforms. but when @fixfoxnox said southerner Roach I just couldn’t not love him okay leave me alone

anyways. southerner Roach shenanigans

(I guess you could call this a Something in the Orange fanfic since he’s besties with Jackson in this scenario as well as dating Ghost and Soap……… but it’s general enough it’s probably fine ANYWAYS)

Roach’s accent, while it normally only lightly flavors a few of his words, gets considerably thicker when he’s visiting home

I mean like he does the thing southerners do where they somehow mash entire sentences into one word and the others are just like “……….what” but Jackson is nodding like he understood

Like. They’re all at dinner together somewhere. Somebody brings up the rodeo at the state fair. The Europeans have no idea what they’re talking about. Roach just goes “y’ain’tneverheardadat??” and Soap nearly has a stroke trying to figure out what he meant but Jackson continues to eat soundly like he didn’t hear anything wrong

COWBOY👏 HAT👏 RULE👏

HELP

No no no they go to some random dive bar for one of their birthdays. It doesn’t matter whose. Jackson and Roach both have cowboy hats because OBVIOUSLY and like. They exchange this look that the others can’t figure out whenever one of their boyfriends steals their hat via flirting

(They tell them later and then can’t stop laughing while Soap and Ghost and Gaz are just sitting there like uh oh)

After that the hat stealing is very much purposeful

Square dancing to fucking Timber by Kesha and Pitbull in said dive bar because that’s just required idk what to tell you

Soap and Ghost seeing Roach ride a horse for the first time and visibly bluescreen

Roach recognizing people from high school in his hometown even tho he hasn’t seen them in like 20 years

He likes Taylor Swift but only her old country-adjacent stuff

Ghost and Soap couldn’t figure out his aversion to any kind of substitute milk until he took them home and they found out it’s because he grew up drinking milk that literally came from the cows he has in his backyard. They own two cows. And a few chickens. Very resourceful

Jackson and Roach dragging the 141 to Roach’s family’s Super Bowl party one year because in the southern states it’s a huge fucking deal

The Europeans being like “………this is quite possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever seen in my life” but their boys are having fun so it’s okay

God help the rest of them. Jackson and Roach are rooting for opposite teams.

There’s screaming, there’s wrestling on the living room floor, there’s spilling food and beer everywhere. The amount of rubbing it in after a touchdown lands is fucking crazy, and they’ve shouted about stabbing each other every single time

Eventually, maybe with a bit of googling, the others get into it. Soap hasn’t stopped shoving Mrs. Roach’s buffalo chicken dip in his face since he’d discovered it when they’d arrived, and Ghost was letting the kids use his tattoo like a coloring page while he chatted with Roach’s dad and brothers. Gaz kept getting elbowed in the ribs whenever Roach and Jackson tousled on the couch, and a couple times he was asked to hold Jackson’s beer so “I can kick some sense into this dipshit,” usually followed by Roach’s maniacal cackling. Price was banging around in the kitchen with Mrs. Roach. Nobody knew how he’d gotten dragged into that, but he seemed to be enjoying himself

On the topic of bringing the boys home to the fam oh my GODS thanksgiving

Ghost is not a dessert person. He’s never been a dessert person. But he had four slices of Mr. Roach’s apple pie, so,,,,,,,,, apparently he is actually a dessert person

Obvi Roach is good with all guns, but he was hunting with his dad and brothers by the time he was like six. He knows how to work a shotgun like he breathes

(Ahem being southern is why he’s so fucking stubborn btw if anyone was wondering)

Roach and Jackson both are religious Dolly Parton listeners

“DID U GUYS KNOW SHE WROTE JOLENE AND I WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOU ON THE SAME DAY—“

Ghost and Soap wake up one night because there’s a weird noise outside. They poke Roach awake like “???? what was that??” and he was just like “oh yeah the woods make noises sometimes. don’t worry about it. if something actually wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t hear it coming” and promptly passed back out

“Yea I’ve seen a skinwalker before” “FYM YOU’VE S E E N O N E ? “ “It was in my backyard?? Relax it just wanted the coyote that always tries to kill our chickens. I didn’t really mind”

Gaz suggests investigating a weird figure he saw in the woods. Roach laughs out loud and Jackson smacks him in the back of the head like “that’s how you fucking die you idiot”

“Y’all’re lucky we’re here to stop you from doing somethin’ stupid. Fuckin’ city slickers” “What did you just call me”

The deafening sounds of crickets and locusts puts Roach to sleep almost instantly every night. Ghost barely sleeps every time they visit.

”IT IS SO FUCKING LOUD IF ONE MORE BLOODY CRICKET—“ “Simon not everyone needs literal dead silence to sleep—“

No matter how many pillows he stacks on top of his head he can’t escape it

Oh. Oh. The Europeans CANNOT do southern heat. They’re passed out on the porch while Jackson and Roach and Roach’s brothers play football in the front yard

Roach makes killer lemonade and iced tea nobody talk to me

He has a rusty blue ancient pickup that he says is his baby. One of the wheels is misshapen and the bed squeaks dangerously every time they hit a pothole, but he won’t get rid of it EVER

Roach introduces Soap and Ghost to catching fireflies in jars with his nieces and nephews. They are. So in love with the concept.

It gets turned into a competition, because of course it does, and it looked like Ghost was going to win— but then the youngest of the participating children silently held up a jar that was too bright to look at and audibly buzzing from the amount of bugs inside of it. They cut their losses and embrace the fact that they’ll never be That Good

Southern👏 sunsets👏 there ain’t nothing like it

Soap has a sketchbook dedicated entirely to doodling Roach doing farm things

Roach had a horse he took care of in high school. Her name was Peaches and he literally cried when he found pictures of her in his room

Ghost LOVES the sweet old border collie Roach’s parents have. That dog has seen many a stampede, and he’s herded just as many. What a man. Ghost does not leave him alone Ever

gods fuck me bro I could literally talk about southern Roach F O R E V E R (idk if you can tell from the long ass post Jesus Christ)

good morning/ night/ 4am lmk if you want more of this

[notjustjavierpena]

First - Part I: Time

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Part of my “first”-series with dilf!joel! 

Summary: You go to IKEA to buy a new bed, but after getting Joel to assemble your new piece of furniture. it somehow also ends up being the first time you have sex. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel hates IKEA, reader is overthinking, domestic fluff, Joel is lovely, pussy eating, creampie, unprotected piv sex, cute sex!!! Fluff!!! Filth!!

Word count: 4.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48689506/chapters/123842593#workskin

First: Time

Since the kiss on your front porch, Joel has taken every opportunity to press his lips against yours when nobody has been around to see. Making out is so easy, uncomplicated in the sense that it isn’t hard to find out what the other likes, but there’s always something stirring beneath the surface when you feel Joel’s cock start to harden against your stomach. It makes you pull away and come up with excuses, and Joel takes it politely when you reject him.

You aren’t inexperienced, but for some reason, Joel Miller, certified hot neighbor, and possible boyfriend, makes you nervous. 

Even more so when he suggests joining you on an outing to buy you a new bed like he has a say in which one you’ll choose. Your old one barely made it across the country in the moving truck, the old bed frame creaking so loudly that you were scared that it would splinter and land you in a claim of compensation with the moving company.

Additionally, it’s simply terrible to sleep in, and when it had finally broken its last proper spring, you’d settled for a month on something that resembled a military cot. Not ideal for you back. Not ideal for inviting Joel Miller over.

“Sarah ain’t home anyway,” he had said, “And with how that stepladder turned out… You probably need someone to assemble it, so ya don’t end up on the floor, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. Sweetheart sweetheart sweetheart. What easier way was there to get you to say yes? 

*

And so you find yourself in an IKEA not long after. Joel wants to play the gentlemen, pushing your cart around the furniture store, but he seems tired of it when you keep adding unnecessary bibs and bobs as you are forced to walk down the fixed path design. You ignore his tiny grunts, knowing that he would be more suited for powering through the halls than stopping every goddamn second.

“Ain’t this cute?” You ask as you show him a kitchen container that’s shaped like a flower. 

“Very,” he replies without the same enthusiasm. 

“What about this? I should totally get these,” you go on as you reach the cutlery and glasses, showing him a set of brass coffee scoops. 

“Sure,” he answers, but he isn’t really listening. 

Eventually, you reach the section of pillows, blankets, and bedding. He wants to go straight to the rows of beds along the wall and surrounding the path on the floor, but you grab at the end of your cart to steer him towards the linens. 

“I feel like I should get some new bedding to go along with the new bed, don’t you think?” You scan the different patterns and colors. Joel hums beside you, clearly lost in his thoughts despite being the one who suggested coming along. 

“Yeah, I really think this lilac set would look fantastic against my skin when you fuck me,” you say without any suggestive tone to your voice, then wait.

“Sure wou—“ Joel takes a second, nearly snapping his neck as he quickly turns towards you to look at you. He splutters, “Wait, what?”

“What?” You smile too innocently, “I didn’t say anything. I just said that these would look fantastic with my bedroom walls. Honestly, Joel, you should listen more.”

Joel narrows his eyes at you, parking your shared cart that he has nothing of his own in. He walks towards you again and God, you want to kiss him as he smirks at you, “You’re playin’ with me.”

“Not at all,” you say with a soft giggle as he looks around for other people, who, luckily, are nowhere to be seen, before kissing you in the middle of the store. You wrap your arms around his neck as his own comes around your waist. 

It only takes a moment for him to pull back. You miss him the second that he is gone, though instead of going back to your cart again, he scans the room once more and then grabs at the hem of your jeans. 

“What’re you—?” You look down with surprise and a pulsating feeling between your legs. 

“I’m so fuckin’ bored, let’s just go do what we’re here for,” he yanks at the front of your jeans and steers you towards the row of beds. Your head swims and your legs try to follow wherever he tugs you. 

“O-okay, yes, alright,” you stutter. 

Joel only lets go when you choose the first bed to try out. You try to concentrate on the design as you run a hand over the material, but the grasp Joel has just had on your clothes makes you wonder if it translates into the bedroom. Fuck, you need a bed. 

Unfortunately, you are also very picky; too soft, too hard, bad design, bad bed frame design, made of plastic, not convincing enough to look like wood.

“How do you like this one?” You ask as you lay down on the millionth bed with Joel. It’s the first one that has some potential. You wiggle to get comfortable, looking at him out of the corner of your eye. 

“No,” he simply replies, turning onto his side to face you. You turn your head, not daring to mirror his position. 

“Right, let’s hear it, Mr. Miller, what’s the verdict of this possible contender?” You sigh dramatically. 

“First of all, ’m not the picky one here. We’ve had some fine contenders,” he points out and makes you smile, “But this one? Wouldn’ trust that bed frame, the headboard.”

“And what has the headboard done?” You roll your eyes.

“Nothing, but I’d for sure have you break it. We need somethin’ sturdier.”

Your breath catches in your throat and you’re sure that every drop of blood in your body goes down between your thighs. 

*

Eventually, you arrive home with a bed that has a name that you are unable to pronounce and a Joel who tells you not to disturb him as he assembles said bed with a difficult name. 

You try protesting against being left out of the project, but Joel reminds you of the stepladder massacre from the day that you had met, making you shut your mouth and pout prettily in your living room. 

He leaves your house briefly to get his power drill from his garage, and you practically froth around the mouth at the idea of him power drilling his way to fixing up a new bed for you. If only he’d allowed you to join him, so you could’ve at least silently watched and admired him from the other side of the room. The images that flood your mind are as relentless as Joel’s comment about your new bed’s headboard. 

When he eventually comes into the living room, he takes your hand and leads you through the house to show you his masterpiece.

“One new bed for the lady, even put the mattress on,” Joel says, stopping in the doorway to your bedroom. You look up at him with a smile and kiss him softly. He is warm, slightly sweaty after working in the August heat. 

“Thank you, Joel,” you say against his lips, and there it goes again. You wrap your arms around him and he cups your face, and then you kiss like your lives depend on it and stop just as things start to get heated. 

“No, don’t,“ Joel mutters quietly as you try to pull away, not letting you as he starts tugging a little at your hips, “Don’t run away from me again.”

“Mhmm… okay,” you hum and find his lips once more, but you pull away as soon as you can feel the hard bulge of his cock underneath his jeans. God, you want him, but he has no idea how much that scares you too. What if you lose him right after? What if you can’t be what he needs? Oh God, what if it’s bad? Nothing is better than disappointment. 

Joel furrows his brow in confusion and then takes a step back from you to look at you properly, “Is something wrong? Did I do something?” 

“What? No! No, of course not,” you run a hand over your forehead and through your hair, letting out a sigh that’s followed by an embarrassed chuckle, “I promise. It’s just...”

Joel has crossed his arms over his chest like he usually does when he is expecting bad news, probably a rejection in this case. You hate yourself for making him feel like he needs his guard up.

“I’m shitting my pants here, Miller, look at you,” you groan with brutal honesty at the tip of your tongue. He raises a brow at your choice of words, but doesn’t interrupt you, “Haven’t you ever wanted something so badly and then been afraid of getting it in case you’ve piled the expectations too high?” 

Joel shifts his weight from side to side for a moment. He doesn’t say anything to you for what seems like minutes but is, in reality, nothing more than ten seconds. 

“Can’t say I’m not jus’ a lil’ hurt that you think you’ll be disappointed by now,” he finally replies without looking at you, tapping his fingers on his arm.

“I just meant that I want it to be perfect and there’s no way I’m going to be perfect and then I’ll worry if I disappoint you,” you confess. 

You hear him scoff in disbelief at your postulate like it’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard, “Sure, I’m definitely gonna turn ya down after gettin’ in bed with you and knowin’ you probably wanna do it again in the near future.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” it does sound pretty ridiculous. You step towards him again, tugging at his arms to uncross them until you can walk into them. You look up at him through your lashes with an apologetic smile, “I don’t think you know just how much I think about your hands touching me.”

Joel’s offense is gone from his face in mere seconds, “Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” you confirm with a little newfound confidence. There’s something good about having told him your concern, putting it out there for him to do with it what he wants despite how badly you want the ability to read minds right now. You decide to stroke his ego a little, “With your job? I bet you know how to use them.” 

“Then lemme show you, baby. I’m great with my hands,” he kisses your lips again, but only briefly, following it up with descending down your neck. You let him for the first time, tilting your head to the side to give him more access and shivering at the feel of his nose bumping along your carotid artery. 

You hold onto him as he backs you further into the room, shoving down the instinct, caused by anxiety, to make him stop once again. Just let yourself have this, you try to remind yourself, don’t overthink it. You’re cute. He is sexy. He wants you.

“Tell me whatcha like,” he says as he guides you across the floor that’s scattered with cardboard and tools, “Maybe decidin’ what we’re doing will calm you a little.”

“Uh, it’s been a while,” you suddenly feel the edge of your newly acquired bed hit the back of your knees and make you fall onto it. Looking up at him from this angle makes your pulse quicken, your blood going straight to your clit and making it throb behind your denim jeans. 

“Or not. Should I list suggestions?” He asks, sinking to his knees on the floor at the end of the bed. You spread your legs a little without thinking and he smirks at you as if you’ve lost a bet, “I could eat your pussy. Would ya like that?”

You moan at the mere words.

“Need to hear you say it,” Joel’s hands are on the hem of your jeans like they had been in the middle of Ikea. He does quick work of undoing them, but not pulling them down just yet, “Say yes, baby.”

“Yes, fuck, I want that,” you have to stare up at the ceiling again to keep your composure. You have a feeling that none of your expectations have ever been too high. 

“Will you then tell me what you like? Tell me how to suck your pretty little clit?” His fingers curl into the denim and start pulling until he needs to sit back to get your jeans all the way off. He accidentally pulls your socks off too, but it just earns you a kiss to your ankle before he crawls forward again and you feel like prey at the mercy of a predator.

“Go slow,” you say breathlessly. 

“Of course,” he reassures, hooking a finger into the waistband of your panties next, “Tell me if I’m too much.”

“No! I mean, this is good, I like your filthy words,” you suck in a breath as your cunt is exposed to him, cheeks burning up with shyness but he just groans. It feels very vulnerable to be naked from the waist down when he isn’t, 

“I can touch you?” His voice indicates a question. You nod slowly, tensing up quite a bit as he rests one huge hand on your left hip bone and reaches between your legs with his index- and middle fingers. He runs them through your glistening folds, earning a gasp. 

“Do you usually come from touching your clit or?”

“No, yes, but I like my g-spot stimulated too. Simultaneously,” you try to reply confidently. 

He hums and nods, taking it all in. It takes a few extra seconds before he gently rubs his fingers along the side of your clit, dragging his fingers up and down slowly to test out the waters and see how sensitive you are. He guesses very, because you let out a soft moan at the contact, so he keeps going.

“We’ll get to your g-spot,” he says matter-of-factly, and your eyes nearly roll back into your skull at the promise. It’s been a while since you’ve been in a position like this, too busy restoring the house and falling in love to even think about seeking out casual sex. Who knew that you’d end up with something so not casual? 

“When did you last do this?” You ask right before he leans down to taste you. 

“Eat pussy?” He asks with a smirk.

“I meant slept with someone in general,” your head swims. Joel may have halted his head’s movements down towards your cunt, but he still has his fingers between your legs. You prop yourself up on your elbows to look down at what his hands are doing.

“Don’t think I’d use in general about sex,” he replies smugly instead of giving you a proper answer. You realize it doesn’t matter as he rubs teasing circles around your clit, still avoiding any direct touch to get you properly worked up and wet. You cannot wait for him to follow through on his plan to eat you out, which you aren’t sure when you last had a guy do to you. 

“Fine, forget I asked,” you moan with a roll of your eyes.

Joel can sense the brat in you looming under the surface. He gets bolder, eyes changing to something hungrier than soft. He pulls you by your ankles to get you closer to him instead of the other way around. It makes you yelp, but he chuckles, “And there’s that attitude I like. Are you gonna let me now? No more interruptions?”

“No more interruptions,” you confirm.

Finally, he lowers his head between your legs and puts a stop to the noise in your head. You have been fantasizing about this position for months now, waited for the opportunity to lift your legs up to wrap them around his neck and shoulders. 

His tongue is warm and wet on you, trailing through your folds as if he is eating ice cream and it’s melting in his hands. He makes you throw your head back, makes you look up again as you don’t want to miss seeing him like this but only to have you force your eyes away because it’s too much. 

“Shit, Joel,” you swear when his nose bumps your clit. You try to lift your hips up into his mouth, but a big hand rests on your pelvis and aggressively pushes you down into the mattress again. That ignites something close to fire in your body, and Joel senses it immediately when your skin grows hotter.

“You like that, baby?” He pulls away from you for a moment, arousal dripping off his stubble, “When I get a little rough? Guess I shouldn’t be surprised with the way you like me to say filth.”

“I don’t want you to say anything right now,” you whine, “Not what your mouth is for.”

“And I told ya to guide me,” he retorts, replacing his tongue with his fingers whilst you are talking. He spreads your lips open, watching as another drip of slick runs down between your cheeks to pool on the mattress. 

“Don’t need any guidance,” you squirm as he holds your labia apart, clenching around nothing. 

“Then ya ain’t gettin’ anything,” he threatens, “I can watch your pussy jump under my touch for a long time. Ain’t gotta be home later. This is only to do it exactly how you want it, sweetheart. Needa know how you like to fuck.”

Your pulse quickens at the thought of him being a little mean if you don’t show a bit of cooperation. Your mouth parts as you pant in your compromising position. Joel looks up at you expectantly and you realize that maybe, as much as this is a bit of fun, it’s possible that he just wants to be reassured too. 

“I want you to pay more attention to my clit, use the flat of your tongue, and don’t suck until I’m close,” you explain while your head spins. Your elbows ache from holding yourself up. 

Another droplet of slick runs down. Without warning, Joel catches it with the tip of his tongue and it has you crying out. He remembers your demands, swiping his tongue through your folds and licking your clit expertly. 

“Need your fingers inside me,” you only just manage to let out whilst your orgasm burns low in your belly. He follows through but only after pushing your t-shirt up to expose your bra, cupping your breast with his left hand, and sneaking his right down between your legs.

Your nipples harden underneath his touch. Your pussy clamps around his fingers. And then he sucks your clit into his mouth, causing your hips to stutter and your thighs to twitch. He wiggles his head a little, goes rougher.

“Just like that, keep go— oh, Joel, you’re gonna—“ you flop down onto the bed again, elbows giving out underneath you. With the way that the pressure keeps building, you scramble to grab the sheets with both of your hands, “Gonna make me come, baby. Just— Ah!”

Everything fades as your orgasm begins. The flutters of your walls are intense, causing you to throw your head back into the mattress and concentrate on each pulsating contraction of your cunt. 

Joel pumps his fingers as he works you through it, sucking your swollen clit until you have to push him away to stop it from hurting. He lifts his head at your indication of wanting him to stop before removing your legs from his shoulders. He crawls into bed with you, hovering on top of you with his clothes still on and his legs hanging out off the edge. 

“Now how was that?” He asks despite knowing the answer. The warm and handsome smile that you love so much translates so well into the context of being in bed together, and with a little more confidence from just having climaxed, you cup his face and kiss him. He tastes deliciously of you. 

“Can’t complain,” you say with a little laugh and earn a little glare that Joel cannot keep on his face for long. He nudges your nose with his own and kisses you once again. The nervousness that you had felt earlier seems so far away now, so silly when he makes it so easy to forget. 

“Take your pants off, Miller,” you add, moving to crawl back on the bed. You start undressing yourself completely, pulling at your t-shirt, “Can’t just be about me as much as that sounds entertaining.”

“Confident after havin’ climaxed,” he says out loud like it’s a mental note for himself, removing his shirt. He laughs whilst getting out of his jeans, out loud at your outraged noise. 

You don’t know if it’s the comment that makes you the worst undresser in history, but somehow your bra becomes stuck in the sleeve of your t-shirt. Before you know it, the shirt simply won’t move anymore despite being halfway over your head, “Oh no.”

You can feel Joel moving on the bed. His attention is on you immediately, “What?”

“It’s stuck,” you admit but only after a long pause. Warmth creeps up your chest to your face as embarrassment fills you up, and even more so when Joel barks out a laugh at your eagerness getting the better of you.

“Sit still, you’re only makin’ it worse, we gotta start from scratch,” he says as you continue pulling at the fabric. He starts tugging your clothes back on until he has your face visible again and your body as dressed as before. 

“Hey you,” he says with a boyish grin, then slowly works your clothes back off the right way. 

“Hi,” you sputter when you’re finally completely naked, voice flustered. Joel is only in his boxers now, and God, he is tenting in them. It’s been on your mind a bunch of times; how big is he? Now that you see him straining against the fabric, you know that he is going to be the biggest you’ve ever had. 

After he has tugged off his boxers, and you’ve nearly passed out from the vision, Joel pushes gently on your chest to get you to lie down. He helps you to bend your legs, plants your feet flat on the bed, and then settles on his knees between them. 

“Condom?” He asks, stroking your thighs as he waits.

“I’m on the pill,” you reply, “And it’s been God knows how long, so I’m clean.”

“God knows how long,” he snorts, leaning down over you and holding himself up on his elbows, “We better fix that. Don’t ya think so?” 

“Mhm,” you look up into his eyes, “Definitely. Yeah.” 

“Wrap your legs ‘round my waist,” he guides you softly, can sense your hesitation or maybe it’s just how he can feel your heartbeat against his own chest. It’s rapid, beating like a scared animal.

You do as you are told. He is able to get even closer now, and when he is flush against your body, he kisses you slowly until he is allowed to slip his tongue into your mouth. You slide your fingers through the curls at the back of his head, and he hums into your mouth. 

When he needs air, he only pulls back inches. 

“I want you so much,” you breathe quietly, hands still at the back of his head. He smiles softly at you, reaches down between the two of you, and presses the tip of his cock against you. 

The whimper you let out as he pushes inside has him attentively moving slower. Inch by inch, he fills you to the brim and you can barely believe that just a few months ago, this had only been a brief fantasy. 

“Okay? You want me to stop?” He questions with genuine concern, but you quickly shake your head. That is the last thing you want.

“No, you’re just big … and it’s been a while,” you blush. 

“Okay, tell me if it’s too—“

You pull him into a sweet kiss, legs tightening around his waist to make him realize that you don’t want him to go anywhere. When you pull back to talk, he is on the brink of interrupting you again. You shake your head, “Joel Miller. Shut up and just fuck me.”

“Wow, yeah. Can do.”

The slow outwards drag of his cock is almost more intense, leaving you empty for the briefest moment before it fills you up again. You moan as your muscles squeeze around him, accepting him so easily as you finally relax into him.

He rolls his hips sensually, fucks you open till your new bed squeaks and you hope that he was right about its sturdiness. For show, and to test it out, you reach above your head to place your palm against the headboard. 

“Let’s see then,” he chuckles breathlessly.

“Wouldn’t even— fuck. I wouldn’t even be mad if you break my bed,” you pants, “Angle your hips a bit.”

You squeeze your legs around his waist to guide him, and when his cock nudges against your g-spot, you clench involuntarily around him. It pulls a groan from his lips, filth spilling from his mouth, “Yeah, you like that? Want it again?”

“Fuck yes, I want it again,” you whine, eyes falling closed and breathing rapidly, “Just like that! Fuck, Joel!”

Joel picks up the pace, leans further into you. He also adds more force behind his thrusts, making your eyes roll back when his pelvis aligns with your clit. The hand on the back of his neck slides down for more leverage, holding on for dear life as he pounds you into the mattress. 

“Keep going, I’m almost there,” you cry, heat continuously pooling at the base of your spine. Suddenly, you have both hands on his back, raking your nails down until they dig into the widest part of his back, “Faster!” 

“I know, baby,” he growls, but it sounds mostly out of breath. He gives you everything he has, seeking out your pleasure by making the bed slam into the wall, “Can feel you. Let go, baby, come on my cock.”

It is nothing but raw and hot pleasure in the next moment as he gets you to orgasm, causing you to release a breath that you do not know that you have been holding. You are taken aback by its intensity. A high-pitched cry leaves you as the first clench of your cunt hits you and Joel continues fucking you through it. 

“You’re fuckin’ incredible,” he pants, buries his head in the crook of your neck to chase his own reward. He comes after a few more thrusts, coating your walls in his warm come and saying your name. You don’t think your name has ever sounded so beautiful with a string of swear words following it. 

Time stands still after Joel pulls out. You expect yourself to be blissed out, sleepy, and quiet, maybe even annoyed at having to get up and clean yourself up, but instead, you find that you cannot stop grinning up at the ceiling. 

“We are definitely fucking doing that again,” you say despite being completely out of breath. 

“Was that perfect?” Joel teases, “Or did I disappoint ya?”

“Fuck you,” you giggle, still high on dopamine. You suspect you will be in the coming days, weeks, months, years. Hopefully.

“Just did,” he says proudly.

“You sure fucking did.”

“You always get so foul-mouthed after sex?” He turns onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow. He rests his free hand on the sweat-dampened skin of your stomach, “Or?”

“Only if it’s fucking good,” you respond but mostly to the ceiling. You want to cry, giggle, scream, and laugh out loud, but mostly you want to say that you love him. One thing at a time, you think to yourself, next time. Even if the next time is in a moment.

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