#the resemblance 👁️👁️

[foreverinthepagesofhistory]

~ “Stop looking at me with those eyes” ~

💙 ~ Royal Parallels ~ 💙

Princess Diana and Princess Charlotte

#wow #i never really saw the resemblance until today #👁️💙✨ #princess diana #princess charlotte #parallels #royal parallels #my parallels #princess charlotte of wales #diana princess of wales #lady diana #british royal family

[publicuniversalenemy]

god i fucjing HATE enjoying characters. christ.

#guy at the gym was THE SPIT of eddie ST #like i was trying SO HARD to not 👁️ 👁️ at him #not even ina ‘awooga hot guy’ way but in a ‘what the fuuuuck the resemblance is fucking uncanny’ way #like he didnt look like the actor he looked like the character. down to the hair and fashion sense and body language. #like??? bro??? hello???? #anyways #moments of being embarrassing and cringe <3 #whatever the fuck

[takendruid]

I had. A thought. 👁️👁️ “what if Gojo DID curse Geto at the end of JJK0 the same way Yuta cursed Rika?”.

Also I might draw curse Geto attacking Kenjaku in Shibuya. Curse Geto isn’t about to just attack anyone who attacks Gojo senselessly like Rika because he’s not an 11 year old girl in love… he’s a 27 year old man in love… but I think seeing Kenjaku violating his own corpse would set him off. And I do think that Gojo would still be tricked by Kenjaku because curse Geto, as we know from jjk0, isn’t just Geto’s spirit haunting Gojo. It is literally Gojo’s grief personified into a cursed spirit, so curse Geto and “alive Geto” could be two completely different and co-existing things that would still fuck with Gojo mentally for a solid minute.

In the anime, Geto says “at least hit me with some curses” BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT HE SAYS IN THE MANGA. BRO LITERALLY WANTED GOJO TO DO TO HIM WHAT YUTA DID TO RIKA !!

They make me so ill.

I wanted to draw Geto in something resembling his priest outfit but ended up drawing him in a bleach shihakusho, so… yippee? Autism wins? I almost put him in something white and then remembered that black kimonos literally represent death, so keeping him in black would be perfect.

Pt. 2, pt. 3

#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk satosugu #satoru x suguru #jujutsu satoru #satoru gojo #satosugu #yuji itadori #itadori yuji #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #jujutsu geto #jjk geto #gojo x geto #geto suguru #jjk suguru #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #nobara kugisaki #kugisaki nobara #stsg #stsg fanart #stsg brainrot #curse geto au #takendruid art

[dr3c0mix]

What does goth man look like 👁️👁️

whaT DO THE ZOMBIES LOOK LIKE???

this reminded me that i had a wip of the zombie horde in my procreate ghhghhhghgh but i want to give yall a little more than that so im also throwing in some headcannons and stuff from when they were alive &lt;3 <3 <3

💀 Ribs' hair is bleached blonde! It also has a faint smell of weed, hmm.

💀 Just as he is now, he was very hyper. He used to go to a lot of parties and raves. He was actually at a beach concert when he got infected.

💀 He reacts to rock music, if you play a song near him, he’ll turn to where the sound is coming from and go to it and hop around happily, it’s a good way to find him if you loose him in the mall.

💀 Screw looked like he was a scavenger like you before turning into a zombie, you found old cans of food and an almost empty flask of water in his bag amidst things he probably picked up, things he very much didn’t need anymore in his current state.

💀 He and Ribs found a pair of scissors in your drawers once and you came back to your bunker to Ribs cutting Screw’s hair. They both just stared at you with Screw’s hair all over the floor, that’s why his hair looks a bit choppy.

💀 He gets cold easily somehow so he clings onto you the most, the others are a little jealous..

💀 Soda has a lot of burn scars on his shoulder, you make it a point to not use fire around him as he chirped and cooed worryingly when you lit a match to warm some food.

💀 His hair is surprisingly soft, a bit dry but it isn’t as covered in blood and dirt like the others.

💀 his shirt is slightly in better shape than the rest of his clothes, he’s probably had to change it after a while.

💀 Bo looks like he’s lasted longer than the others considering his supposed military experience and a bandage present on his leg ever before finding him, he’s had in on for a while.

💀 The sides of his face are scratches and torn, revealing his teeth underneath, it makes it hard to chew sometimes but that’s why he focuses more on getting the others food more than himself.

💀 He’s a bit of an attention seeker so if you see him beekeeping the others in line or doing something good, please praise him, he’ll be so happy. The others tease him for it because he resembles a dog when he leans down for you to pat his head.

Anyway here’s your funny little zombos !! Hope you like how they turned out ! I promise to give y’all a proper drawing of goth next time too!

#yandere x reader #oc yandere #yandere oc #yandere #terato #teratophillia #monsterfucker #monster x human #monster smut #monster lover #zombie #undead #x reader #x male reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x darling #yandere x gn reader #yandere x you #poly x reader #polyamorous #polyamory #poly relationship #opossumdoodles

[spitdrunken]

i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..

also, for your consideration:

Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...

Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...

this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)

I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.

Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.

The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino. But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.” Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.

When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.

“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all. “Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.

He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like. The first time you stutter out the word ‘cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…” “No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.

So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.

“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.

----- A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?

Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really. ------------ Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…

And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #valentino x reader #vox x reader #velvette x reader #cw.drugging #cw.noncon #cw.dubcon

[phoenixradiant]

Authorial Psychoanalysis OC Asks

You read that painfully phrased title correctly, today we're going to ask about your OCs and use them to psychoanalyze you!

😇- What is the best quality this character shares with you?

😈- What is the worst quality this character shares with you?

👥- Which of your OCs' relationships (platonic or romantic) most resembles one of your own?

❔- Which nominally "good" character do you like the least? (as a person)

❓- Which nominally "bad" character do you like the most? (as a person)

❕- Which nominally "good" character do you enjoy writing the least?

❗- Which nominally "bad" character do you enjoy writing the most?

😄- Would you be good friends with this character?

🥰- Would you date this character?

🍕- What "favorites" does this character share with you? (Favorite food, color, weather, etc.)

🎭- Are there any characters you as the author don't really understand? Why?

⚔️- Which character shows anger in the same way as you?

😭- Which character shows sadness in the same way as you?

❤️- Which character shows care in the same way as you?

🎉- Which character shows joy in the same way as you?

💩- How many of your characters have self-esteem issues and are you aware that we all enjoy your presence on the hellsite?

👁️- Is this character based off someone you know in real life? Who?

🦴- How does this character process death?

Pretend Legal Mumbo Jumbo: By answering one of these asks you give your consent for all other participants to attempt psychoanalysis (or satirical psychoanalysis) in the replies and reblogs, so long as this analysis is respectful and kind. You agree that PhoenixRadiant is not legally responsible for any therapy, epiphany, good vibes, bad vibes, dumb jokes, witty jokes, or other phenomena these answers, asks, and analyses may cause.

And now to tags the mutualses: @somethingclevermahogony,@theidealistcynic,@agirlandherquill, @the-ellia-west,@smudged-red-ink,@aestheic-writer18,@pastellbg, @tildeathiwillwrite,@illarian-rambling,@baconandeggs-25, @thewritingautisticat,@aalinaaaaaa,@elizaellwrites

#writeblr #writing #oc asks #ask game #oc ask game #author psychoanalysis #writer #writing ask game

[ddostoyevskyy]

BSD MEN!

↳ AND WHERE DO THEY LOVE TO HOLD YOU.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒... f!reader but can also be read as gn!reader, NSFW, unprotected sex, blowjob, missionary, biting/marking, size kink, slight belly bulge, just some filthy stuff that need to get out of my head.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄... 👁️👄👁️✨

BSD MASTERLIST.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒, 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 — he’s a traditional lover; a classic love making — tangling your hands together in a tight clasp as he drove his hips, cock grazing your sweet spot and creating a smallest of a bulge in your stomach that made your mind blank — the pleasure of his cock pounding in your walls is all you can think of, adding the stimulation of both of your arms raise over your head as he holds it with one hand with a tight grip as you can feel the burning sensation of his nails grazing on your sensitive skin as your hips twitch; you know he’s close by the way his hand clasped on your wrists together were trembling and his moans were getting louder and breathier as you clenched around his cock — followed by a few squeezes of your fingers on his and littering his neck with kisses, adding the stimulation of your cunt squeezing his cock, he came with a breathy moan.

Nakajima Atsushi, Kunikida Doppo, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Tachihara Michizō, Fukuzawa Yukichi —

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊, 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐉𝐀𝐖 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐊𝐒 — as his lips hover yours, but not quite touching; teasing you with a smirk on his lips when you seems desperate to kiss him while he fucks you; he loves the fucked out look on your face, though he isn’t any better; his mouth agape, lips swollen and eyebrows furrowed together, his nails graze on your jaw and you can’t look away on his eyes when you’re cumming; eyes rolling back with your mouth fell open as he push his thumb past your lips, sucking on his finger as he followed soon enough with a choked moan.

Nakahara Chuuya, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, Nikolai Gogol, Dazai Osamu —

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐒 — as he hooks it on his shoulders, holding your thighs as a leverage to fuck himself deeper and harder as though to chase his impending orgasm that is hurling faster than he expected, his teeth would graze on the expanse of your skin on your inner thighs, creating marks and bites that will surely last longer and will make you not wear skirts the next day; though, that was the point of his marks, he huffed a breath as he was trapped between your thighs, cock ravishing your cunt in a brutal pace as he leaned in to you, the same time your thighs folded over your chest and you whimpered at the sudden stretch of your body folding in half; he had you in a mating press as he cums, your cunt leaking and milking him the same time — his release too powerful that he has no choice but to bite on your inner thigh.

Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Mark Twain —

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐁𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑 — as you fasten your pace; your jaw slack as your throat restricted when you tried to take as much of his cock on your mouth — his hand tightened around your hair as you whimpered on his harsh grasp and his moans drift on the air when you use your hand to grip on the base where the remaining inches of his cock can’t fit anymore. He’s harshly pushing your hair away from your face, creating a messy ponytail just to take a glimpse of your hooded eyes and swollen lips taking his cock and when he cums — he’s pushing your head down with a grunt as he paints your throat with white thicks of ropes of cum.

Nakahara Chuuya (damn), Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Edgar Allan Poe, Edogawa Ranpo —

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved 2023 ©ddostoyevskyy. Do not repost without permission or plagiarized.

#bsd fics #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs x reader #[❤️; niko’s headcannons] #bungou stray dogs smut #bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs headcanons

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ace, Lilia: Be Not Deceived

OH???? 👁️ One of the paintings in the background is the Ace of Hearts card soldiers… Does this mean we’ll get to see the actual character inspos for each boy, even the obscure ones like Jack and Sebek??? Will we finally solve a 3+ year long mystery??????? 🔍

… Also, not Ace casually wanting to go to karaoke with Scar 😭 (Funny, cuz he was denied hearing L*ona sing during Endless Halloween Night.) Figures that Ace would be the best at singing of the first years, the others are just no competition…

A Tale as Old as Time.

Not every work of art had a seriousness about it. In fact, Ace preferred to ogle the sillier pieces, finding solace in the nonsense and the chaos of them.

Hands shoved into the pockets of his finely tailored slacks, he found himself entranced by a bed of oysters. They were pried open, one half of their shells propped up to resemble bonnets. Their fleshy, round faces were still drowsy from sleep.

Little babies, the whole lot of them.

“My, you’ve taken quite an interest in that painting. I wouldn’t have expected it of you.” The remark came from Lilia, who curiously peered over at Ace from one side. “Have you an interest in oysters?”

“Nah, can’t stand’m. Especially raw,” he replied. “I was just thinkin’ of something I heard from back home."

“Oh?" Lilia’s large eyes glittered with a keen interest. “Now this I must hear.”

“It’s not really that interesting.” Ace shrugged. “A walrus dressed up in a suit to wine and dine a bunch of oysters—but the punchline is, instead of being taken out to dinner, the oysters are the walrus’s dinner! We have a Walrus-brand oyster sauce in the Queendom of Roses that gets its name from that story."

“Kufufu, I see! What a fascinating origin," Lilia mused. "It's a cautionary tale to not trust strangers. It brings to mind warnings to be wary of wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

"I guess so? The walrus looked nice at first glance, but he basically robbed a cradle. Seriously, who'd actually go and kidnap a baby like that? It’s just an exaggerated story to scare gullible kids into acting straight.”

Lilia's mouth adopted a mysterious, knowing smile.

"Oh, you'd be surprised!" he chuckled softly. "You never know when a big, bad monster might come in the night to steal you away from your family."

There was an eerie intenseness behind his every word, the magenta of his irises darkening to match. A shiver bolted down Ace’s spine. Lilia, too, was a creature of that very night that threatened to consume him.

"Y-Yeesh, you're freakin' me out, Lilia-senpai” Ace jokingly shoved his upperclassman. His fear had been fleeting, easily chased off with a laugh. “Don't say scary stuff like that. Halloween isn't for like another whole month!"

“Oopsie~ Perhaps I’m a little overeager.”

“I’ll say.” Ace rolled his eyes. “Sometimes I forget how weird you can be.”

“What, you don’t think someone as adorable as me could possibly be capable of committing a war crime or two?” Lilia grinned. “I’m not entirely innocent, you know.”

“You definitely wouldn’t be able to pull off any war crimes though!! You just act way different than your looks would suggest.” Ace rapped his knuckles on the wall beside the framed oysters. “Like the lying walrus.”

“Do you think I’m a lying walrus?” The question was teasing.

“Everyone is. There’s plenty of them in Heartslabyul too.” Ace counted off on his fingers.

“Loosey Deucy comes off like a straight-laced honors student, but he’s an ex-delinquent and dumb as a rock. Cater-senpai looks flashy and friendly, but he’ll trick you into doing his chores and leave you hanging. Trey-senpai’s got his weird teeth hobby… and then there’s Riddle-ryocho, who has a babyface but throws fits like an active volcano!!

“The Great Seven had parts of themselves that were surprising too. No one would think the King of Beasts would be the type of guy to be belt out a song, but he still did. That’s what moved the hyenas to join his cause. It just goes to show that you really can’t judge a book by its cover.”

"A good takeaway from the tale," Lilia agreed. "Taking the morals of a story to heart... you're very clever, Ace."

"The cleverest." He cheekily stuck out his tongue.

The knowing smile suddenly returned to Lilia's face. "I'm sure you have a wicked side to yourself as well. As you've said, we all have a bit of the lying walrus in us."

"No way, miss me with that. I’m the poor, helpless victim,” Ace grumbled, rubbing at his neck. It had stiffened considerably at the memory of his skin chaffing. “Haaah, if only I wasn't bullied so much by my dorm leader~"

"By Riddle?" Lilia smirked a little. "His temper is rather infamous. Silver and Sebek are his club mates. I've heard of Riddle's rage.”

"Dude, you don't know the half of it. He's always nagging me one way or another, and if I don't listen... BAM!

"'Off with Your Head'!!" Ace scrunched up his face in a show of pretend anger and pantomimed casting a spell by wiggling his fingers. The voice he adopted was elegant, yet arrogant—a replica of Riddle's. "Now you sit there and think about what you've done, Ace! The collar comes off when you've repented."

He fell back with a groan, Lilia's amused chuckle accompanying him in the otherwise quiet museum.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up while you still can."

From the corner of his eye, Ace spotted the oysters again. The entire bed, a colony of easily deceived infants. Unaware of the world and its eager, snapping jaws—the jaws of a well-dressed walrus.

“Guess a smile and a snazzy suit is all it takes to get people to waltz right into a trap, huh? With the right looks and attitude, even a villain can be made to pass as a hero.”

Ace tugged at the silver sash slung across his torso, drinking in the details of his luxurious platinum suit. A bow tie, a vest, a jacket with trailing coattails. Shining fabric, pure and unblemished.

He was all dressed up, with nowhere to go. Only lies to tell.

“You make for a good hero,” Lilia offered, “with that winsome charm and cheer of yours. Ah, but that’s not all. It never is. These old eyes can’t be deceived.”

“Whaaat? I can’t believe you’d side with Riddle over me. I’m being unfairly ganged up on here!! Aaah, my senpai are so mean to me…!”

His laments echoed off the cavernous rooms of the museum. Mere whining of a high school boy against the backdrop of great figures and illustrious history.

He was small, one little white lie against a sea of them.

“… Juuust kidding.”

Ace turned away, a wink thrown playfully at the painting of the oysters before their very doom.

As if anyone would believe that.

#Ace Trappola #Lilia Vanrouge #twisted wonderland #twst #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #something no one asked for #Ace birthday takeover #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios

[sanest-bsd-delegate]

General Headcanons with Bram

Headcanon: General headcanons of stuff I think Bram will do. Pairing: Bram x reader Genre: Fluff, lowkey crack A/N: Dont mind me ss the msg and sending it to myself Part 2 of General Headcanons with DOA Boys. [ Part 1 ]

BRAM

The most gentleman person you will ever met. For real!!!

Him as a 5000 prob year old person, I personally hope you have an immortal ability cause lets be honestly 👁️👄👁️

He loves music. LOVES IT When YOU are the person playing him music from instrument of your choice.

Even if you are a learner, he is willing to listen to you and your skills.

If magically*cough cough* he isn't a guy with sword torso below, I think he probably has the height advantage here. He is the tallest.

Would totally be having 'Sorry am cookin' Apron while he cook meals.

I think he can cook and clean and do EVERYTHING ATP

He maybe a royal, but least he is a Mannered gentleman with good taste in everything (like you, a win taste)

You probably, no definitely ask him whenever you have to make a decision-He is the most well behaved person you ever met I swear.

"Bram this or this?" "Go with that one, it matches your hair"

BRAM AS A FASHION EXPERT? HELL YEAH

Lowkey thinks he loves to clean and have cultivated flowerbeds soul cultivated by him.

He totally wouldn't go off telling random beggars on the street to join his farm.

He let's you braid his hair while he go through his daily list of chores-10/10 malewife, girlboss, slaying.

I think he is Kunikida but less strict and better [idk]

He has a skincare routine and encourages or rather forces you to join him.

You have a stalker? He is now your servant at your home, vamparised.

he tries to minimise his usage of vampirism, but stalkers and creepers gonna get it.

IF BSD IS A HAPPY EVER AFTER, I think Aya would 10/10 the adopted kid of your household.

Like you would have Aya over your house and Bram would go on become the dad she deserved.

And then you get hit by the fact Aya resembles his daughter in the previous era.

You totally have their photos on one side of your wall (it's almost full)

Requested by: @student-in-devildom [as I said, I tagged you] Taglist: @averagehisoilluenjoyer, @high-on-dazai Join or remove your user here.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs headcannon #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs scenarios #bsd scenario #bungou stray dogs fluff #bram x reader #bsd headcannons #doa x reader #doa #decay of angels #decay of angels x reader #bsd x reader #doa bsd #fluff #bungou stray dogs #bsd fanfics #bsd s5 #bram stoker #bsd bram #bram #bsd headcanons #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #brambles

[theinsanitycarnival]

Other illustrations from "A trip to Alagadda" The Four Lords + Rat Man (scp 049).

From my knowledge, this is a very non-canonical depiction but hell this is the scp fandom I can do whatever I want.

My thought process: as scp 035 (Dyo) is a Greek theatre mask, and the king closely resembles the hanged king's tragedy it would be fun to make all the Lords a depiction of a different Western theatre style.

Anguished Lord- pretty self-explanatory he's a porcelain ancient Greek theatre mask, in the style of Dionysus henceforth the grapes and golden leaves, and of course, our drama queen needs hair *Dramatic Hairflip*

Odious Lord- despite his Tudor garb he wears a Roman theatre mask. I originally wanted to portray him in a Japanese Noh theatre mask, but being a pitiful sad European theatre kid who eats raisin porridge every morning, has never smelled a chilli pepper and will die in the sun, I am a Western theatre kid and would feel rather strange portraying what I know very little about. Also, I would want the mask to have a wider arrangement of colour but Alagadda's colour palette does not allow for that. Later with a deeper dive into Noh theatre history and culture, I may redesign him but for now, we have Bacchus.

I like to think he has terrible beef with the Anguished Lord.

Mirthful Lord- Commedia dell'arte was a rather silly part of theatre culture, with many gags, improvisation and silly jokes, feels perfect for the Mirthful Lord. Pantalone is often one of the masters of the Commedia, greedy and erratic, hmmm. His other garb is that of a jester, so funzies, and because of the shape of his mask he taunts 049 because of their "likeness".

Diligent Lord- A white Carnival of Venice mask from my understanding the most accurate depiction of all the lords, just funny to draw and also 👁️.

Pierre- No explanation needed, however hohohon.

#alagadda #illustration #the lords of alagadda #the black lord #the red lord #the white lord #the yellow lord #scp 035 #scp 049 #scp 035 x scp 049 #scp fanart #scp fandom #drawing #illustrations #sketchbook #ohohon

[borderlinebelle]

🌎🔮👁️

I JUST finished filming my first real full length YouTube video for the first time in over 2 years! 😳

I don’t even think it’s shit. i think … i think it’s quite vulnerable and thoughtful and cute and fun and silly and honest and open and it resembles the workings of my mind in recovery.

wanna maybe idk discuss mental health with me or whatever?

Shit has been weird here [🌎] for a while 👁️ no?

let’s start with decatastrophizing! 🤭

mountains into mole hills 🤝

ur invited friend, to watch me scale my “hard thing” RAW & here’s hoping it inspires you to SCALE your “hard things” too bestie!!

scaling “hard things” together! on my channel and through my tumblr ramblings & through all my art mediums i share happily and humbly with you 🤭

because those “hard things” are always so much more mf easy with a friend 🤷🏽‍♀️

{even if it’s just an internet friend🤘🏽(often the best type)}

see the dramatic af photo below ⤵️

in it, i am fully delusional, rubbing a $12 fur coat in my barely breathing Nissan Sentra 2014. i am about to film the surprise middle to my FIRST FULL EPISODE IN 2 YEARS that i FIRMLY believe 👁️ will begin a long and weird and successful career in ART and CONTENT and CULTURE creation surrounding mental health and recovery and the STATE OF THINGS AROUND HERE ↪️🌎🌍🌏↩️

i did it folks..

I’m back.

EPISODE ONE : SUNDAY MARCH 2ND

👍🏽LINK BELOW👍🏽

BUT YOU CAN’T LEAVE

LEAVE CAN YOU? ….

& i know i still have to ✍🏽 EDIT the episode 😅 but …

you don’t know me. Oh.

I’m Borderline Belle. Hi friend! 😅 wow and i trapped you here in this AD so EARLY in our friendship.. but luckily you are fine. 🤭

You are after all my #1 employee. 🙂

and i am after all that: little miss every mf thing & with a CLEAR GOAL of finishing something as soft and heartwarming AS A FIRST EPISODE TO YOUR NEW FAVORITE GUILTY GIGGLE (made just for you) 🤤 to devour on SUNDAY MARCH 2ND to beat off the Sunday Scaries …

I’VE ALREADY BEGUN!

DEAR TUMBLR: im real sORRY I MADE YOU LOOK AT ALL THIS. DONT BE MAD AND FREAK OUT IN THE COMMENTS PLS. ILL CRY. IS MARKETING. PLS. TY.

If you run up my subscriber count WITH notifications turned on: i promise 🙂 it’s likely 🙂 I’ll never darken your doorstep ever again weary tumblr user. 😈

#blaze me gently #borderlinebelle #recovery #personal #black girls of tumblr #personality disorder #personal growth #guess who didn’t do it #guess whose still alive #guess who made it #it’s me bitches #this is a girlblog #borderline blog #tags are silly #black coquette #softcore #soft black women #soft feminine #support black writers #support black artists #support black women #support black creatives #we’re all mad here #late stage capitalism #corecore

[ghost-bxrd]

this is the same anon who asked about the scp foundation

yeah that’s basically it: secure contain protect. There’s a bunch of creatures and monsters they capture and hold to protect other people (though they also sacrifice employees for experiments so “protect” is debatable)

The reason I’m bringing it up though, is bc they would absolutely be interested in Talon and Fae Dick. And not in a good way.

There’s been instances with sentient scps (such as 105, who can essentially reality bend via photos) where the foundation would capture them even if they weren’t going to harm anyone. And I kept thinking. Fae Dick doesn’t exactly HIDE what he is, and Talon Dick doesn’t exactly resemble a normal human with the glowing eyes and pale skin.

(Gotham in general could probably be considered an SCP though, I’m pretty sure it’s canonically cursed)

Ksksk I immediately thought about the last point with Gotham being cursed because— that city has a canonical SECOND Gotham (Gotham Below) underneath it (sealed off but still). And I mean— Lazarus Pits, Man-Bats, freaky Bird cults…. The SCP foundation would have one heck of a time trying to contain all of THAT particular crazy ksksks.

But yes I can see your point! But both Talon!Dick and Fae!Dick have enough of a support system (ie Titans, JLA, the BATMAN(!) (yes he’s his own warning ksksks)…) that locking them up… might work. Just not for very long. And in doing so would bring down the combined forces of earth’s superhero community on their heads. Something not in the interest of the foundation I reckon 👁️

However, maybe they could enter into a sort of ceasefire? Like, they leave Gotham‘s “crazy” alone (turn a blind eye) and in return they provide some scientifically relevant data for their research?

#I don’t know enough about the SCP foundation to know if they’d make such a deal #but point stands that kidnapping either version of Dick would land them in hot water #quite literally if Garth or Arthur get involved #which they would #dick is beloved by the superhero community and I take no critisicms on that ksksks #fae dick grayson #talon dick grayson #dick grayson #batfamily #ghost talks #scp foundation

[symptomsofdeceit]

Hi hi! I finally got around to playing your demo yesterday! 😭🤍✨

Initially I was drawn to Nalis bc I’m drawn to blondies and outgoing characters, but I was really starting to like Thaumo towards the end of my first playthrough! 👁️👁️ (he’s so unnerving but also kind of sweet, at least in what I’ve played so far, hehe)

I absolutely adore the writing of your characters and the ending I got with Nalis was very unexpected but so interesting by how you tied it with his associated animal!

I think the idea of having your characters associated with marine life forms is charming and unique as a whole, and I’m wondering how I can associate my MC with a marine animal now, hahaha. (I’d probably need to choose a name that resembles a marine animal first, but we’ll see if I can somehow work the name I gave her into marine biology, haha) Super cool that you’re bringing an epidemic narrative into the storyline as well, I’ve never seen that done before, but I think it’s novel and distinct.🫶

But yeah, super excited to play more and to just see how this game develops! Great great work, super inspiring from a creative/visual storyteller perspective. 🤍🫶✨

I’m a big fan of your art so I was honestly a little more nervous about you playing my game lol 😅

I’m so so happy that you enjoyed it!! 😭💕✨ I’m really excited to check out your vn with Rory in the future too 👁️👁️ & I’m super curious what animal you’d choose for your mc. There are so many cute ones.

Thank you for your comment it means a lot to me!! 🤍🤍

#symptoms of deceit asks

[jizzlords]

⋆ NAME?: helvetica

⋆ PRONOUNS?: he/him

⋆ MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S)?:  ozzie, my beloved ♡

⋆ RP PET PEEVES?:  not tagging accordingly (long posts, whatever). reblogging an ask but i've fixed that :}

⋆ EXPERIENCE / HOW MANY YEARS?: i've been around... certain corners of the internet. but i think it's 14+ years in this scene (tumblr dot go dot gov dot com)

⋆ EXPERIENCE?:  yes. lol.

⋆ FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT?:  all of the above. i really like romance, makes me all happy. i'm actually more open with smut as of late and wanna dabble in it some more since taking on this muse. dunno what happened, couldn't tell ya!

⋆ PLOTS OR MEMES?: i don't rely on memes nor do i rely on plotting. there's been a lot of changes. but something about ozzie's muse makes plotting come pretty easy if we throw maybe 2-3 ideas at a wall to see what sticks. i'm prone to winging it but i guess ozzie gives me a lot of creative inspiration.

⋆ LONG OR SHORT REPLIES?:  i like a fine medium. if we hit it off and write each other personal books (almost inevitable), so be it. more to develop together.

⋆ TIME TO WRITE?:  with ozzie being this passionate fire that just goes, goes, goes ... when it comes to this blog — anytime. (knock on wood)

⋆ ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: i hope so? HAHA i hope so for the sake of portraying him accurately and delivering an interesting read/writing experience. i hope we're both the similar kind of fun. i try to keep his dialect and mannerisms accurate. i think writers resemble their muses in some ways. not all the time but it's important to be able to differentiate. it's not impossible to have relations with characters, good or "bad". part of why we take 'em on, right?

Tagged by: @vanaglcria xoxo Tagging: @r-adio, @l-ucitiel, @gctchell, @xluciifer, @damnedrainbows, @pridefell, @predeition, @fizeroli, @clwngasm, @prnkill, @pompedia, @helldrip, @hazbintales, @pridetempt, @alteredassistant, @videoaux, @spiderslvts, @bloominghands, @hellahtel, @discoinfernos idk who has or hasn't done this but u should tag me if u decide to do steal it. 👁️👁️

#── ♡ ❝ love game. ( dashboard prompts ) #── ♡ ❝ i can bring the sex appeal. ( ooc ) #ty for thinking of me missa!! <3

[epithet-beloved]

👁️👁️ zora + touch starved reader? Can be romantic or platonic, whichever the mods feel like doing

ZORA WITH A TOUCH STARVED S/O

synopsis… Zora feels like cuddling is a step long overdue in your relationship, but wasn’t expecting such a reaction from you regarding her request

ft. Zora Salazar

tags… fluff, like so much fluff, cuddling, Zora calls reader Darling but in a cowgirl way so it’s Darlin, get you a girl who will leave dead birds at your doorstep

word count… 455

a/n… yeehaw… ✧ 🦝

“C’mere darlin’.”

Zora’s voice is a sweet lure, beckoning you closer to her as she lays on the couch.  Having her job means she can come back to you too tired to skirt around your affection.  You’ve been together for a while, haven’t you?  That means you can’t blame her for wanting to be close to you!

But you just stand there, staring at her outstretched arms.  Zora narrows her eyes at your reluctance.  Is something the matter?  Did she do something you don’t approve of again?  She only gave you a dead bird one time, so it couldn’t have been that—

And then you apologise, a little meek.  “You got nothin’ to be sorry about!  Besides depriving me of your hugs,” she jokes.

Hah.  Little does she know.

You’ve hugged before, and you even had the courage to hold her hand!  Still… you don’t want Zora to figure out just how much you really enjoyed contact with her.  She can be perceptive when she wants to be, and you just have so little dignity left within you.

Even now, she catches on.  Her expression softens into one reserved only for you.  In a gentler voice, she says, “hey, I didn’t offend ya did I?”

“No!”  You wave your hands in the air in a panic.  “No, no, nothing like that…  I…”

Zora raises an eyebrow.  “You…?”

“I don’t want to take your touches for granted.”

A silence fills the room.  You don’t have the bravery to look at Zora and gauge her reaction.

You continue.  “If I take something, then I feel like I have to return it.  Like– Like a tally.  And I know if you hold me, I’ll just keep wanting more, but I have so little to give, and—”

“Hey.”

“—I think you shouldn’t have to deal with me being so indebted to you, so I just—”

“Darlin’.”

The nickname shuts you up, as well as Zora wrapping her hands around your waist, pulling you into her.

Her hold is secure, and though her smell is hardly the most ideal, it’s still so Zora and you couldn’t help but be endeared by it.  Her heartbeat is not as erratic as yours, but sure isn’t calm.  Is she also…?

Zora’s content sigh breaks you out of your thoughts.  “Ya know?”  She tells you, and you shift your head so your chin is resting on your chest, looking at the bounty hunter.  She’s smiling at you so warmly.  She almost resembles the sun.

She continues, “I think you can pay whatever ‘debt’ you have with the cuddles too.  So then it all cancels out.  Thinkin’ logically that is!”

You pause, and then you breathe out a laugh.  You can’t say no to that.

#🦝's writings #𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 request ! #epithet erased #epithet erased imagines #epithet erased x reader #anime campaign #anime campaign imagines #anime campaign x reader #zora salazar #zora salazar x reader #zora salazar imagines

[abeautylives]

Trip Around the Sun - Day Two

a/n: Thank you for your patience as I took some time to celebrate our sweet Josh. Like a lot of you here, I'm a queer person that felt an immense sense of pride in his bravery and an insane amount of joy knowing how loved he is. To that point, if it needs stating, this is a work of fiction. To another point, in light of recent events, I wanted to say that I very much love and support my fellow members of the LGBTQ+ community, keep fighting the good fight babes 👁️🌈👁️

Read Part One

pairing: Joshxfemale!reader

word count: 9.8k this part

summary: A persistent and charismatic stranger disrupts the serenity of your tropical escape. What's the harm in a vacation fling?

warnings: 18+ minors stay far away, more summer Josh, language, drinking, mentions of sexual situations, explicit sexual content, public sexual activity, penetrative sex, kinda fluffy tbh

☀️☀️☀️

“My name’s Josh.”

Of course it is. When you’d first seen him from across the pool, you could’ve pegged him as a Josh or a Justin, even a Jake. It just makes so much sense.

What made little to no sense was the way your settling heart rate had kicked back up when he said it, the sound of his name shaped by those lips and pushed past those teeth with an almost embarrassed giggle.

Josh.

He’d asked for yours in return and when you gave it, he’d rolled it around on his tongue and then repeated it. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.

You’ve been thinking about that all morning. Not about the way he’d offered to walk you back to your room, or the way you had invited him in, ready to return the favor of the orgasm he’d bestowed you. Not about the way he had looked at you, in awe of your apparent generosity, or the way he’d gracefully declined. You don’t owe me anything, beautiful.

You definitely haven’t been thinking about that. Not while you sipped your coffee or the Bloody Mary that followed. Not while you picked at your breakfast or walked back to your room after abandoning it.

You’re absolutely not thinking about him now as you make the journey back to the blazing heat of the pool deck. You’re not scanning the area for his cap or his curls or his face. You’re not headed toward the same lounge chair you’d used yesterday in hopes that if he’s looking… he’ll find you.

It’s shameful, the way you’re thinking about nothing but him.

As your gaze moves over the pool, it lands on a couple of boys, probably nine or ten years old, maybe brothers. They’re taking turns attempting handstands in the water, timing each other and laughing wildly when the other loses his balance, in the exact spot where you’d let a stranger finger fuck you before he’d even introduced himself.

I need a drink.

Instead of settling into your chair, you dump your bag and towel onto it and head directly to the bar. Around the back side of the small building, constructed to resemble a thatched hut (grass roof and all), there’s a walk-up bar and that’s where you order a margarita and a shot of tequila. The bartender serves up gold instead of silver, but you knock it back anyway and resist the urge to gag as it lights your throat on fire.

The plastic holding your other beverage is already sweating in the heat by the time you’ve made it halfway around the pool and back to your chair, which is exactly when you spot him. Wanting to observe him before he sees you, as he’d done to you the afternoon before, you slow your stride and take a long sip through your straw.

He must have been looking for you, but he found your belongings strewn across your chair and it appears that he’d made himself comfortable in the one beside yours once again. His trunks are the same he was wearing yesterday, a light green and white patterned print that leave the entire length of each thigh exposed, and his torso is blessedly shirt-free. Because you can, you objectify him for just a moment, your eyes lingering just below his navel before they move up the line of his body and land on his chest.

Now I’m the creep.

You make yourself giggle and keep it moving. You’ve almost reached him and you’re surprised, or disappointed that he hasn’t noticed you. Unfortunately, the closer you get, the better you can see the fucking ridiculous sunglasses he’s wearing. With no cap to shade his eyes today, his head wrapped in a white bandana and hair tied back again, you understand the need for sunglasses, but these are horrendous.

“Yee haw, bro.”

His head moves with you as you come around him and step between the chairs, his face upturned and smile already stretching wide and shining bright. He watches closely as you move your bag and towel, bent at the hip, ass pointed in his direction and covered today only by a scrap of electric blue that’s nearly tucked between your cheeks. When you chance a peek at him over your shoulder, you wish you could see his eyes, but alas.

There’s a hint of laughter in his voice, but only because there had been a hint in yours. “What?”

Lowering onto your chair, you lean into it and recline as if you’d known all along that he’d be here waiting for you. “What’s with the shades?”

It’s cute, the genuine confusion as his smile goes lopsided. “It’s bright out here?”

“They’re hideous.”

“Wait, really? You don’t like them?” The corners of his mouth drop.

You can’t stifle the laughter any longer. It’s shaking your shoulders as you tell him you really don’t. When he sits forward in his chair, it looks like he’s about to stand and you’re suddenly worried you’ve actually offended him.

He pulls the glasses off of his face and examines them, turning them over as if he’s seeing them for the first time. As they move in his hands you can see that they’re not actually Pit Vipers, they might be Oakleys but they’re a huge purple and green color shifting shield of plastic. His eyebrows are knit together as if he’s deep in thought.

“I’ll throw them in the ocean, right now.” He stands and moves like he’s going to walk away from you, head to the beach and chuck them in.

Your hand shoots out and lands on one of his wrists, fingers wrapped around it. “No! Don’t go…” His eyes, now revealed to you, drop to where you’re touching him, a rainbow spread over his skin at the tips of your fingers. “I’m just fucking with you.” When he lifts them to your face, they’re narrowed in sly gratification, a smirk forming below his mustache.

He accepts that, along with the knowledge that you really seem to want him to stay, mourning the loss of your hand on his when he plants himself back in his lounger. The glasses slip back over his ears, settled on the bridge of his nose.

“I like them. I don’t tend to care if anyone else does.”

That sounds authentic, based on the limited observations you’ve made you’re sure he doesn’t give a shit about what others may think. The short shorts, the bandana, the sandals he was wearing last night and even the tiny hoops gracing each earlobe. It’s just who he is.

“That’s good. I wish I didn’t care what people thought about me.” Flippant, you don’t really mean anything by the comment and bring your drink up to your lips.

“Do you care what I think?”

His own words tumble over each other in your mind. Lovely. Captivating. Beautiful. Stunning. Trouble. “Mm, I know what you think.”

“Huh. I suppose I haven’t been subtle. What do you think about me?”

There it is again, a warmth crawling across your cheeks that has nothing to do with the climate. Your gut tells you to lie, to tell him that you don’t, you haven’t thought of him at all.

“I thought you didn’t tend to care about the opinions of others, hm?”

No response, no way to read his eyes past the ostentatious glare of his sunglasses but he’s definitely staring at you. Your heart tells you to give him the truth.

“I’m not sure yet what I think about you. But I have been thinking.”

There’s a comfortable bit of silence while he turns that over in his mind and you apply sunscreen, SPF 30 this time. He offers with only a tiny bit of sarcasm to get your back, but today you accept hastily, greedy for the feeling of his hands on you.

The tube transfers from your hold to his as you turn away in your chair, hair pulled forward over your shoulder and presenting the expanse of tanned skin to him. He squeezes it into his palm and warms it between his own hands before touching you, and you’re sure it’s intentional. Every time his skin has met yours has seemed purposeful, almost calculated, like he’s mapped out his pilgrimage over your body in advance.

This act is not a chore, or even a favor, it’s purely selfish of him as he leans close and places his hands over your shoulder blades. The lotion spreads as he watches his fingers outstretch, pale in comparison to your sun-darkened shoulders. They travel upward first, firmly pressed against you and he can feel the quiet hum that vibrates through you before it sounds from your throat.

“You better stop that.” His voice crawls its way into your ear, pitched low and bearing that edge again.

“Hmm, what?” Your head drops forward and his hands are still moving, fingertips dragging down the sides of your ribcage and barely skimming the curve of each breast.

“Making those little noises. Unless you want all of these people to see what it does to me.” Another hum, tightening into a whine as those hands smooth over the small of your waist and come back in to meet on either side of your spine. The memory of what you barely got to see and never got to touch last night only serves to turn his warning into temptation. You wouldn’t mind seeing it again, even here in the light of day.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? Pervert.” His fingers push underneath the strings at your hips and slide under the fabric as his palms work the sunscreen into your lower back, reminiscent of how he’s teased you with those fingers in the pool. “Are those the thoughts you’ve been thinking about me this morning, beautiful?”

“Well they are now.”

His hands leave you abruptly and you turn to watch him swipe what little is left of the sunscreen over his cheeks, pushing under the rim of his glasses then running his fingertips over the bridge of his nose.

“Um, do you need more? On your back, or, whatever.” That was embarrassing, the curve of his lips making it even more so as he appears to know exactly what you’re asking.

Can I touch you?

“I’m good, applied in my room.” Cheeky fucker.

“Even your back, though?” Okay, desperate.

“It’s taken care of. For now.” He doesn’t elaborate and you can’t bring yourself to ask exactly who had assisted him. It’s none of your business. “So, what are your plans for the day?”

The tube of sunscreen is tossed back into your bag and he returns to his reclined position in his chair, you follow suit and take another sip of your now watered down margarita. You lift a hand and gesture to the scenery in front of you, arm sweeping wide.

“You’re lookin’ at it, handsome.”

An accidental clue, some insight into exactly what you’ve been thinking about him. He revels in it silently, making no comment or quip but adding it to his mental spreadsheet.

“You know there’s a lot more to do here besides lay by the pool, right?”

You do know that, in a vague sense but you haven’t bothered to look into it. Most of your time before you met him yesterday has been spent alone, as you’d intended, and whatever activities this place has to offer just seem… sad to do by yourself.

“Sure, but I can get drunk by the pool.”

“There’s an entire ocean of clear turquoise water right there. We could go swimming, or there’s jet skis, or I’m pretty sure we can sign up for this boating excursion. Spend a few hours on the water, drinks included.”

We?

“What makes you think I wanna spend my vacation time with you?”

A brief pause, he only thinks it over for a second or two, as if he knew you would ask. “You haven’t sent me away yet, you were checking me out from over there ten minutes ago,” he points to where you’d been staring from, when you thought he hadn’t noticed you, “and you were practically begging to suck my dick last night. I think you like me.”

“I was not begging to- you’re annoying, you know that?”

It’s not lost on him that you haven’t tried to deny anything else he’d said, even though you’re blushing. It’s not lost on you that he once again seems to know more than he should, that when you’d invited him into your room all you were imagining was the feeling of him on your lips, the taste of him on your tongue.

He’s grinning when you slide your eyes over to gauge his reaction. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before. Hey, I’m gonna go get a drink while you decide what we’re doing today.” Up and out of his chair before you can argue that, you watch him head in the same direction you’d gone around the pool toward the walk-up side of the bar.

“Josh!” He turns back, the sound of his name shaped by your lips and pushed past your teeth stopping him in his tracks. “Get me another margarita?” You lift your nearly empty cup and shake what’s left of the ice around in the bottom. He offers only a two-finger salute and a wide smile as he turns away from you again.

Your eyes slip closed while you wait, giving no real thought to anything you’d want to do aside from exactly this. When a bead of sweat loses its battle with gravity and slips down your chest, between your breasts and past the string just below them, you sit up to dab your skin with your towel.

A cold drink would be nice, what the fuck is taking him so long?

He’s not at the swim-up bar, his white bandana nowhere to be seen among the groups of people gathered there. You look down the pool deck to your left, in case he’s actually given up on you and decided to leave you alone, disheartened at the idea and irritated with yourself for feeling that way. When he does finally come around the deck, two drinks in hand, he finds you scrolling on your phone with an unmistakable frown pulling the corners of your lips down.

“Miss me?”

“Shit!” Your phone slips from your fingers and bounces off your hip, landing face up on the concrete. “Do you get off on scaring the shit out of me?!”

Laughing, he hands over your margarita and reaches down to scoop up your phone when you snatch the cup from him. “If I say yes, will you think less of me?” He offers your phone next, which you slip into your bag after a quick examination and finding it miraculously undamaged. You ignore that question in lieu of asking another of your own.

“Where were you?”

“Ha! You did miss me. That’s cute.” Instead of taking his place in his chair, he sits at the foot of yours. To his delight, you spread your legs and plant your feet on the ground on either side of the chair to make room for him.

“I missed the tequila.”

“Uh huh,” hidden behind the shield of his glasses, his eyes dart down between your legs to where your bikini is barely concealing you from view, “Well drink up, we’re going sailing.”

You sputter around the mouthful of alcohol you’d just nearly inhaled.

“We leave in an hour.”

Forty-five minutes and another shot of tequila (silver this time, at Josh’s request) later, you’re strapping a glaringly orange life vest over your chest.

“I know how to swim, this is so unnecessary.” You click the final buckle into place and pull the straps tight.

“It’s just a precaution, I think we’re allowed to take them off once we’re anchored.” You’re grumbling as you struggle to get comfortable beneath the foam and nylon. “Besides, it’s a really good look for you, provocative even.”

“Shut up.”

You’re summoned to make your way down a long wooden dock that juts out into the ocean, Josh falling in step beside you, knuckles bumping yours as your arms swing between you. Reaching the end, a crew member waits on board with a hand extended that Josh grabs ahold of and hauls himself over the side and onto the deck. Creating his next excuse to touch you, he turns back and extends his arm, hand held out and eyes imploring you to reach out and take it. You can’t see the way they’re appealing to you, the purple green shift hiding them, but his bottom lip is tucked between his teeth as he grins and his eyebrows are raised expectantly.

“It’s giving… Aladdin. Very ‘magic carpet ride’ right now.”

“Okay, well?” You cock an eyebrow up over the rim of your own glasses and his smile stretches. “Do you trust me?”

“Booooo, that was terrible!” You’re both giggling as you take his hand and let him pull you up and over the railing, where you promptly lose your footing and tumble into his chest. His arms wrap themselves around you, keeping you upright as you mentally curse the life vests preventing your bodies from meeting.

His face tucks into the hair over your ear, tendrils of it floating around your head in the breeze coming off the water. “This is nice, but we need to go take a seat so we can shove off.”

You turn your face to his and your noses almost touch. Before you can verbalize a thought, he drops his lips to your cheek and presses a soft kiss there. Your fingertips are pulled to the spot as if they’re magnetized, your lips fallen open in a surprised ‘o’. A hand slides over your lower back beneath the vest and he guides you to a place on the deck, in front of the mast where he sits with his back against it. Anticipating your question, he tugs you down to sit between his legs and pulls your back into his chest.

Aggravated again that you can’t feel him, you finally find the words.

“I hate these fucking vests.”

From behind you, his chuckle rolls over your shoulder. “Why’s that?”

“I want- I just wish I could, I dunno…”

“You wanna feel me all pressed against you, hm?” With your feet pulled up and knees bent just in front of your chest, he reaches forward and runs the tip of one finger over the outside of your thigh, knee to hip. The boat starts to move just as he slips that finger over your hip bone and lower, dipping it under the hem of your bottoms and running it through the soft hair that he seems so infatuated with. “If you still like me when we get back, I’ll let you feel me all you want. Promise.”

Despite the needy sound that creeps from your mouth he doesn’t touch you where you want him to, an infuriating tease. His hand slides out of your swimsuit and his arms circle around your waist just below the vest.

You’re not sure how far from shore you’ve traveled, the wind whipping your hair around your face and Josh’s as the boat glides through the water, clear as crystal when you left but now an intense, ominous blue as its depths become unfathomable. He’d held you close for the entirety of the voyage, only pulling a hand away to pick your hair out of his mouth or run it down your arm. Once, he’d brought it up to your chin and turned your face to his and you thought, or hoped, he might kiss you but when he found your lips turned up in an enthusiastic grin he’d just smiled brightly and placed that hand back at your waist.

It’s not until the boat slows to an eventual stop, and someone comes from below deck to ask for your drink orders and advise that you could, in fact, remove the vests if you wished, that you realize that no one else had ever boarded.

You unbuckle the vest as soon as you’re able to and toss it to the other side of the mast behind Josh, turning to watch him do the same.

“Josh?”

His vest lands next to yours and he lifts his hands to make sure his bandana is still secure. There’s something about the way his biceps flex that makes you wish you’d been able to see them more clearly last night at the pool. “Hm?”

“Why are there no other passengers?”

He glances to either side, confirming the absence of anyone aside from the crew. “Huh, that’s weird.”

“Did you do this?” You’ve shifted from his lap, kneeling in front of him now, palms rested on your thighs. Before he can answer, you lift a hand and slip his sunglasses away from his face, met with honey and amber sparkling with mischief.

“Now why would you thi-“

“Tell me the truth,” you stand, looming over him with the hand holding his glasses reared back behind your head, “Or these are swimming with the fishies.”

The way your body is twisted, poised to throw them overboard, creates an interesting shape at the curve of your waist that only makes him wonder what you would look like twisted up in the sheets of his bed, or yours. Probably yours.

This is gonna be a long day.

“Yes, I did it.” The glasses are dropped into his hands, caught before they hit the deck between his legs where he places them delicately. They are his favorite, after all.

“Why? How?”

He rises to his feet, more or less eye to eye with you, and finally pulls you close, bodies meeting at the hips. Not prepared to concern you with the how, he answers the why.

“I apologize in advance for what I’m about to say.” You let your own hands rest over the dips at his hips, the line of muscle there leading into his trunks. Focused on the look in his eyes, perhaps slightly nervous but still swimming with a hint of devilish intention, you tilt your head and wait for him to continue. “I thought it would be sort of… romantic.”

The cackle of laughter that you let out is unattractive and riotous but his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles and soaks it in. When you get yourself under control, he pushes it further and slides his hands up your back, pulling your chest to his and letting his next words ghost over your lips.

“Humor me, beautiful. I don’t know about you, but I find a little romance to be a huge turn-on.”

You can feel the truth of that, growing and pushed against you. Presented with an opportunity to take what you definitely haven’t been thinking about, you slide your palms up from his hips and over his stomach. He tenses, muscles bunching under your touch as your hands move slowly over his skin. It’s soft under your fingertips, smoother than the voice he’s been using to break you down and coerce you into playing this game, aside from the goosebumps rising to the surface as you continue up and over his chest.

His eyes had broken from yours, prompting you both to watch your hands travel up his torso and land just under his collarbones, one of his coming between you with a finger hooked under your chin. As your face lifts to his again, he slides your sunglasses away from your eyes and tosses them over his shoulder.

The arm wrapped firmly around your back keeps you close when you try to push away. Unable to move, you slap a hand to his chest.

“Josh those were expensive!”

“I’ll buy you a new pair.”

His lips are on yours before you can argue it, working to silence you and wipe any concern for the glasses from your brain.

Last night, he’d only kissed you once, slamming his mouth to yours to muffle your cries and get just a taste of the champagne on your tongue as you came undone around his fingers. No soft pecks to your trembling lips as you floated back to earth, no shy kiss goodnight as he’d left you at your room.

But he’s kissing you now and it’s everything you could have, but definitely haven’t, imagined. His lips are pillowy soft and slotted together with yours as if they were always meant to be there. You feel the fingers splayed over your spine press into your skin there just as his other hand comes back up to cup your jaw, tilting your chin just a little more so that when the tip of his tongue slips out and over your bottom lip, you’re perfectly positioned to open them and accept it.

This time when they slide against each other, your tongues taste vaguely of tequila and lime, a flavor that he seems to approve of as he groans into your mouth and pulls you impossibly closer. The hand on your back slides downward, over the curve of your ass where he grips a handful and jerks your hips into his, his arousal evident against your thigh.

“Sir, your drinks- oh! Sorry!”

You practically jump away from each other, you stumbling backwards and Josh turning his back to the affronted woman holding a margarita in one hand and a tequila soda in the other. You’re not able to stop the laughter from bubbling over, a hand clasped over your mouth as you watch him adjust his dick in his shorts. Impressively, there’s really no hiding it, so you thank her with tears in your eyes and take the cups from her hands, giving her reprieve from Josh’s awkward situation.

Moving carefully over the unsteady surface of the deck, you sidle up to him and hold out his drink.

“Romantic, isn’t it?”

“Painfully so, damn thing won’t go away.”

Your eyes drop to the obvious tent in his shorts as he continues to try concealing it.

“Maybe stop touching it?” He does, reaching over for his drink and chugging about half of it with his hard-on proudly displayed to the open ocean. A dribble of the clear seltzer spills over and drips from the corner of his mouth before he pulls the cup away, your hand moves in to catch it with the pad of your thumb. Rather than flick it from your fingers or wipe it away, you push it back up to his still open lips. They close over your fingertip and his tongue swirls against it like he can’t help himself but to taste you again.

He lets it slide from his mouth as your hand drops. “You’re gonna have to stop touching me if I have to wait until we’re back on dry land to fuck you.”

It is an unfortunate turn of events, your own arousal is pooled between your legs and there’s nothing you can do about it, even as his words shoot straight to your core.

“Who says I’m gonna let you fuck me?” You’ve dropped your volume, a quiet provocation.

“Mm, I’m not a mind reader but I am intuitive. Getting me back inside you is all you’ve been thinking about since I pulled my fingers out of your perfect little pussy last night.”

Your jaw drops open, closed, open again as no words come to mind in response.

“Exactly. Why don’t you sit back down and drink your margarita, enjoy the view.”

You did just that, heading toward the front of the boat, which Josh advised is called the bow as he took a seat beside you. In your first attempt at an actual personal question, because really anything personal you might learn is not your business and ultimately doesn’t matter, you asked if he had a lot of experience on sailboats.

“Not particularly, but this isn’t my first time.” Vague, but again, does it really matter?

His thoughts must be similar to yours, as he avoids asking you anything that would leave you as more than you are - two complete strangers destined only to know each other right now, whatever that might entail. He asks about your time at the resort so far, if you’ve ever been here before, if you drink anything other than tequila.

“Vodka, on occasion, but I prefer tequila.”

“A woman after my own heart.”

Despite his previous warning, he can’t seem to keep his hands off of you in some way, familiarizing himself with you the only way he feels allowed to. A palm placed to your shoulder when he thinks he’s said something clever. His fingertips drawing lazy circles up and down your legs when you lay back and stretch yourself out over the deck, ankles crossed and feet placed in his lap. Eventually those fingertips find yours, a cautious touch as he toys with the idea before interlacing them and pressing your palms together.

Time spent with him moves in direct opposition to the hours and days you’ve spent alone here. A few more drinks, and even a lunch that had appeared mysteriously from below deck, are gone well before you’re ready for the afternoon to be over. You’re told that you’ll be heading back in ten minutes and you’ll have to wear the vests while you’re underway.

“C’mere…” He doesn’t have to say much else to draw you in, offering a hand to help you stand and using it to spin you around to face the water. He pulls you in, his arms wrapped around your waist again and his chin dropped to your shoulder. Into your ear, he explains, “Just wanted to feel you all pressed against me before we have to don your favorite accessories.”

You groan at the thought of strapping yourself into the life vest, at the thought of three inches of foam separating your bodies as he holds you like this. Turning in his arms, you let the length of your body melt into his, your own arms making their way over his shoulders.

“Do you think they’ll ban me from the resort if I refuse to wear it?” His eyes are alight again with laughter, amused by your question.

“If you don’t wear it, they may tie you up and keep you in the cabin. Actually, that might not be a bad idea, I wonder if they’ll let me do it.”

The musical sound of your giggling is like an invisible force, pulling him in to taste it. It’s gentle, his lips touching yours just long enough for you to reciprocate. He sighs as they separate, an almost remorseful sound that you don’t have time to examine before you’re instructed to put on the life vests.

Leaving this place is probably going to be harder than he thought.

🌙🌙🌙

Fuuuuuck this feels so good.

The water is just a touch too hot as it falls over your shoulders and runs down your body, but it’s working to help release the tension of hours spent with Josh, unable to take what you actually want from him. The romance was a nice touch, but not the kind that can provide any sort of relief to the ache between your thighs.

As soon as the door to your room had clicked into place, you’d considered taking care of it yourself. The instant you’d stepped under the spray of the shower, you’d tucked your fingers between your legs and found yourself still slick, the result of how he had kissed you against the doorframe, trailing his lips over your jaw and down the side of your neck and whispering promises to find you later.

You’d even slipped one inside, immediately realizing it wasn’t good enough, not what you need. One swirl over your clit had almost brought you to your knees, however.

I need to get laid. I need him.

Whatever charismatic kind of wizardry he’s been using on you has been effective, clouding your thoughts and lowering your inhibitions until he’s taking up all the space in your brain.

The steam is carrying the scent of your shampoo as you work it into your scalp, washing away the last few days of chlorine and salty air. It feels heavenly, but your mind is working through a scenario where Josh’s hands are tangled in your hair and that same scent is floating up to him as he hovers over you, he’ll think of you for the rest of his life, every time he encounters it.

The throbbing ache is getting worse.

As the lather from your hair washes down the drain, you force yourself to think of something a little more practical. He had promised to find you but offered no suggestion as to where you should meet, or when. Your stomach sounds on cue, a reminder that you have to do something about dinner whether those plans include him or not. With no way to reach him, you have to trust that fate, or something less whimsical, will bring him back to you.

Ew, get it together.

You clean the rest of your body quickly, before you can talk yourself out of even going back downstairs. Taking only enough time to dry your hair about halfway and swipe some mascara over your lashes, you tie on the black swimsuit just in case and throw on an outfit you’d bought during your last minute Amazon spree. Made of some flowy type of synthetic resembling linen, the waistband of the shorts sits high, well over your navel and the matching top is lined with buttons that you disregard, rolling up the sleeves and letting it drape open over your frame. The soft sage green is particularly appealing against the tan gracing your thighs and why would I care if I look appealing?

You’re thinking too hard about this, he already wants you and he’s made that much abundantly clear since your first meeting.

Now you just have to find him.

Most of the restaurants downstairs are buffet-style, which is only nice because it gives you the opportunity to move at exactly your own pace and be left in peace until your drink needs a refill. From your table against the window, you’re able to people watch as you eat, the variety of outfits that range from extremely casual to extremely overdressed is entertaining in its own right. There is a nightclub here, you consider the possibility that the overdressed have actual plans after this, unlike yourself.

Your gaze turns outward, through the glass that allows a view of the thatch roofed, terracotta tiled walkways lined by lit pools of water that are really just oversized fountains. There are plenty of people to observe outside, families and couples making their way to their own dinners as the sun finally dips low enough in the sky for the stars to fight for dominance. Your eyes are following a couple walking hand in hand, she’s smiling up at him as he talks, apparently enraptured by whatever he’s saying. They’ve almost moved out of your sight line when you see him.

He’s standing at the edge of the tile, the toes of his sandals nearly hanging over the rippling pool in front of him. A hand tucked into the front pocket, his shorts are still outrageously short though they look different than the two pairs you’ve seen him in so far, and his white tank top has been replaced with a white t-shirt. The white bandana is rolled loosely and tied around his neck, leaving his curls free to hang over his forehead and rest over his ears.

His other hand comes up and places the filter of a lit cigarette between his lips, the end glowing red and illuminating his eyes just as they lift from the water and land on you.

You watch him exhale, the smoke curling up into the air before it’s carried away on the breeze. He lifts that hand again, points two fingers in your direction, cigarette held between them, and shapes two silent words with those lips.

Found you.

From the small bag slung across your chest you pull an undetermined amount of cash and toss it on the table, unsure if it’s too much or not enough of a tip for the two drinks you’d been served but not finding it in you to care as you knock back the remnants of the glass in front of you. Looking back through the window as you stand, you lock eyes with him again, still watching you, and waiting.

He’s still watching and waiting as you step out into the heavy air, thick with heat even without the sun, and turn the corner that would lead you to him. You would love to say that you had been composed and casual as you moved in his direction but you’ve given up the act of indifference and you don’t try to hide the excitement in your expression.

Steps away from reaching him, you realize that you have no idea what his game plan is, where he intends to take you or how much longer he’s going to make you wait for the inevitable.

“Josh.”

“Well hello, beautiful. Don’t you look lovely with clothes on?” He takes another hit from his cigarette as he looks you over, the realization that he’s only ever seen you in a bathing suit dawning on you. It’s really no wonder that you’ve ended up here, nervously awaiting some insight as to when and where he plans to fuck you, when every moment leading up to now has been fueled by bare skin and wild imagination.

“We match.” It’s the first thing that pops into your head that seems appropriate to say, the color of his shorts is just a hint darker than that of your outfit. He looks down at himself before looking back at you with a raised eyebrow and a grin that says so we do. “I didn’t realize you smoked.”

Again, not your business, but you haven’t seen him do it so far. “I don’t, not much anymore anyway.” He bends to pick up a backpack from the tile that you hadn’t noticed, slinging it over his shoulder and grabbing for one of your hands. “I bummed this one.”

Your fingers wrap themselves around his hand immediately and you fall in beside him as he starts to walk.

“Something to take the edge off?” Still referring to the cigarette as he takes a final hit and tosses it into the sand-filled tray atop a conveniently placed trash can, you wonder if he’s also nervous.

“Yeah… something like that.” He leaves you wondering what that means and keeps moving forward, slipping into a silence that lasts as long as you can stand it.

“Where are we going?”

A soft squeeze to your hand that’s held in his. “To the beach.”

The beach?! “Josh, I thought- I mean, it’s early… Won’t there still be people all over the beach?”

He’s certainly not an idiot, and he does have a plan. “Not where we’re headed.”

“How do you know?”

“Don’t you trust me?” Your head snaps in his direction, he’s looking at you from the corner of his eye, the side of his mouth that you can see is turned up.

“Sure, I do but-“

“But you just can’t wait any longer to spread your pretty legs for me?” A strangled noise passes your lips. “Don’t worry, you only have to wait as long as it takes us to get where we’re going. You better hurry up.”

The sky is dark as you move away from the lit walkways of the resort, passing through the mostly empty pool area and finally hitting the sand. Josh pauses to slide his sandals off so you do the same, plucking them up and carrying them hung from your fingers. You walk along the water as it licks at the shoreline, passing only a few people before the beach is deserted completely the farther you go.

Looking up to the stars again, definitely not thinking about the last time you’d been lost in them, a heavy sigh slips out into the air.

“It’s so pretty here, I never wanna go home.”

His breath forms the words and the question materializes before he can stop it. “When do you leave?”

The answer lodges in your throat. You’re not ready to tell him, you’ve hardly had a chance to experience him and the sun is already setting on your time with him.

“Um… Sunday morning.”

His feet stop moving, the hand connected with yours stops you in your tracks. “So that’s it? I get you for tonight and maybe tomorrow, and that’s it?”

The dejection in his voice is surprising but that doesn’t make it sting any less.

“Yeah, Josh. I- what do you want me to say?”

He shakes his head and the moonlight shines off of his curls as they move. “No, nothing. It’s okay, we’ll just have to make the most of it, yeah? We can stop here by the way, we’re alone.”

The nerves are back, quickly replacing the regret that came with being the cause of the solemn frown on his lips. You watch him move inland, away from the water's edge and into the dark grove of palm trees growing straight out of the sand. Dropping to one knee, his sandals are discarded and the backpack comes around and sinks to the ground as he tugs at the zipper and pulls a huge Mexican blanket from the opening. He’s still unfolding it as you approach.

“What else is hiding in your little bag of tricks?”

“Tequila, obviously.” He pulls it out and passes the bottle up to you as he situates the blanket and brushes sand from the corners before strategically settling into the center. After a deep breath, you pull the cork and take a shot straight from the bottle, sucking a hiss through your teeth after you swallow.

“Something to take the edge off?” He’s smirking at you as you plug the bottle and he repeats your words from earlier.

You toss the tequila into his lap, which he catches deftly and quickly takes a shot of his own, laying it onto the sand after he shoves the cork back in it.

“Yeah…” This is it, now what? “…Something like that.”

Leaned back on his palms, legs stretched out in front of him, he’s looking up at you with his head tilted, just so. When he speaks, his voice is pitched low again but you hear him loud and clear.

“Get the fuck down here.”

Your sandals slip from your fingertips and you bring the strap of your bag over your head, letting it fall to the sand. A step toward the blanket and you move to slide your open shirt off of your shoulders, but he stops you.

“Don’t, please. Let me.” You leave it on and practically pounce on him, your knees landing on either side of his hips, the blanket sure to leave rug burn across your skin there. He captures your lips with a hmph against them as you collide with his chest, his arms circling you and pulling your body snugly into his lap.

This time, when your tongues meet there’s nothing gentle or apprehensive about it, he’s licking into your mouth like he knows you, like he’s kissed you like this hundreds of times, like he knows exactly what you need. His hair is soft wrapped around your fingers as they sink into it, his dick is already growing hard underneath you, you let your hips rock into it and drink down the groan that pours from his lips.

“Fuck, wait, hold on a second,” his hands stop the roll of your hips over his, “Do you wanna take it slow?”

“No, not this time. Please, c’mon Josh…” He lets your hips go, free to move unhindered as he chuckles into a fast kiss that moves from your lips to your jaw.

“Okay pretty girl, let’s do it then.” His kisses move from your jaw to that special spot he’d discovered earlier, outside your room. He’d wanted to pull your clothes off slowly but since you’ve protested… as he sucks the skin at the base of your neck into his mouth, one hand moves up to the knot just beside his lips and the other slides to the one at the middle of your back. In one motion, he presses his teeth to that sensitive little spot, and tugs at the strings holding your bikini top to your body. You can’t help the shameless moan, he can feel it against his lips, deep in your throat as his bite shoots electricity through your nervous system and the breeze off the ocean moves over your now bare breasts.

When he pulls back to look at you, your chest is already heaving, bared to him aside from the unbuttoned shirt fluttering around you. Your tan lines are dramatic, even in the absence of light and a triangle of pale skin surrounds each slightly darker nipple. He yanks the shirt down off your shoulders and traps your elbows at your sides, pushing your tits forward and forcing your hands from his hair.

“Every single thing about you is so fucking sexy, it’s unreal.”

You can’t respond with anything more than a soft whine as he leans in immediately and closes his lips over the same nipple he’d first touched last night. Unable to feel him with your hands, your hips are working overtime trying to create some friction where you’re throbbing so intensely that it hurts, until he releases his hold on your shirt to wrap his fingers around the curves he’s focused on.

As soon as your arms are free, you let your shirt slide from your body completely and reach to tug his own off of him. Your nipple leaves his mouth with a pop as he helps you, arms raised and reaching behind his head to pull the t-shirt up and over, the bandana falling to rest over his bare collarbones. He drops the tee onto the blanket, quickly snatching up the bikini top still between your bodies and the shirt you’ve let fall over his knees.

“You’re sure you don’t wanna slow down?”

“You’re not going fast enough.”

A challenge easily accepted. In an instant you’re looking up at the stars again, through the silhouette of the palm fronds. Josh is hovering over you, almost exactly how you definitely haven’t imagined it and his fingers are already tucked into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down to your hips. You lift them from the blanket to allow him to slide the material down your legs and away from your body, expecting him to rip the bottoms of your bikini off with them but he doesn’t.

Instead he sits back on his heels for a moment before rising to his feet, leaving you exposed and confused.

“Josh.”

“Shh I know, just give me this one thing.”

Propping yourself up on your elbows, unsure of how clearly he can read the exasperated look that must be written over your features, you ask what he could possibly want.

“Take them off. I wanna watch you take them off and I wanna see all of you, wearing nothing but the moonlight.”

Just verbalizing it causes his cock to pulse, but he resists offering it any relief.

Eager to give him what he’s asked for so poetically, and finally get what you’ve been wanting, you lay back again and arch your back away from the blanket, thumbs slid under the strings. You move them down over your hips slowly and push them to mid thigh, then pull the knots loose with your fingertips and let them fall away between your legs. When they land beneath you, you raise both arms over your head and elongate your entire body, knees together and toes pointed.

“Jesus. You look like a fucking goddess.”

It’s all he can manage for a moment as he commits this to memory, all of your skin glowing in a soft blue filter and on display just for him, the moon and the stars.

You watch as his hands flex, forming fists and stretching back out before they move to the waist of his own shorts. He makes quick work of opening the fly and shoving them and his briefs down to his ankles, seemingly moving without thought, simply on muscle memory alone as his fingers wrap around his dick. His body shudders as he pulls one slow stroke over himself before he realizes that you’re staring, eyes wider than he’s seen them before.

“Shit, sorry. I didn’t even think to ask if you had any special requests.” He giggles, a pure and innocent sound that’s completely jarring in the current setting, both of you naked in the open air, his fist still wrapped loosely around his cock that you’d underestimated.

“Josh, I…”

“What, beautiful? You ready for me?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

“You have a lot of fucking requests.” You feel like you might die of starvation if you’re not full of him, right now. Your feet pull back over the blanket and you let your legs fall open to him. Before he can ask for anything else, you slide a hand down between them and run two fingers through what’s already dripping out of you. “Fuck, please come here…”

The vision of you, combined with your pleading words brings him to his knees, they land between your feet and he crawls over you, shuffling free of the shorts still around his ankles. The hand that had just been stroking his dick circles your wrist and pulls your slick fingers between your bodies, then wraps them around him.

Hot and heavy against your palm, you squeeze him once, drawing the most delicious, almost pained whimper past his kiss-swollen lips.

Eyes turned down to where you’re finally touching him, he murmurs, “Take what you want, beautiful.”

The head of his cock is pushed against you, your grip on it guiding it to slip through your wetness before it slides past your entrance. And stops.

His hips pull back just a little, he reaches down to nudge your hand away and replace it with his own. “Here, kiss me…” You accept his lips on yours, a gentle reassurance and a few deep breaths pulled in through your noses. His kiss moves to peck over your cheek until his mouth reaches your ear.

“Relax baby, let me in. I’ve got you.”

His whisper works like a sedative, loosening the anxious tension of anticipation from your muscles and when his hips roll into you he slides in another inch.

“That’s good, perfect pussy stretching around me. Doing so good.” His praise coaxes a rush of arousal from you, leaking over him. Another roll, another inch.

“You okay?” Your eyes, squeezed shut since he’d pushed inside, crack open and find concern written all over his face. When your head nods, his shakes. “Tell me, please.”

“Yes, I can take it, I want all of it…”

His hands move, braced on either side of your head and he rears his hips back until he nearly slips from your body, then snaps them into you. He sinks in to the base, flush against you and catches your outcry to God with his lips once again.

He lets you both adjust to the feeling, you to the unimaginable fullness and him to the way your cunt is squeezing him like a vice. His lips separate from yours and he offers a warning.

“I don’t want to hear you screaming anyone’s name but mine.” To make sure you understand, he withdraws and crashes back into you.

“Josh! Fuck Josh, Josh, Josh…”

It tumbles forth, he slides into a rhythm of deep strokes that leave you gasping for breath in between curses and whines of his name as your legs wrap themselves around his hips. Your hands can’t seem to decide where they want to land, roaming over all of the skin they can reach, fingertips digging into the tight muscles of his back before sliding up to his shoulder blades and feeling them move as he supports the rocking of his body over yours. As he has since your first interaction, he seems to know exactly what you’re thinking.

Through a clenched jaw he tells you, “Keep doing that, keep touching me. Memorize me.”

That’s what you’ve been doing without even recognizing it, ingraining the feeling of every ridge and curve of him into your mind, ensuring you’ll never forget this moment, or him. You drag your hands over his shoulders and loop your fingers around the rolled bandana that still hangs from his neck, swinging over your face at the same rhythm that his hips are pumping into you. Using it to bring him closer, you tug him into a kiss and open your mouth to him, an offering of your tongue that he welcomes.

Sinking to his elbows, his body blankets yours and his strokes lose their depth, shallow and sharp and allowing the base of him to put pressure on your clit. As the moan rolls up your throat he releases your lips and lets it float into the air.

“Does that feel nice, my beautiful girl?” A kiss pressed to the sticky skin of your neck, right to that spot.

“So good, so good just like this.”

“Mm, sound so pretty. You feel like a dream, I never wanna wake up.”

Never, never. You’d swear you’re just thinking it but it’s spilling from your lips as you feel the hot ember that’s been glowing inside you all day begin to ignite.

He feels it too, the easy glide of his cock moving inside you disrupted by the tightening of your walls around him.

“I feel you…” His hips grind into you, your clit is throbbing as he rolls against it. “Can you cum like this?”

It’s an honest question. As much as he does seem to know, he doesn’t actually know your body or what it’s capable of. Regardless, the flush of embarrassment warms your chest and creeps up your neck.

“I- fuck, I don’t know.”

“Let’s find out.”

He puts everything he has learned into practice, his face tucked into the crook of your neck where his tongue and teeth play over that spot that makes you whimper, your hands grip his biceps as he brings one of his own to your tit and brushes the pad of his thumb over your nipple before rolling it between his fingers. He lets his body work between your legs, hips moving rapidly but staying tight against the sensitive place that you need him most.

“Ohhh my god…”

His next thrust slams against the back of your thighs, punching a yelp past your lips. “What’d I tell you?”

“Josh! Keep going, pleasepleaseplease!”

He grinds hard against you and forces your mouth open with his. As soon as the tip of his tongue slips over yours, the fire explodes inside you.

He tries to lift himself away, to see you unravel, watch it consume you, but your hold on him is unwavering so he stays and kisses you until your lungs are burning. When your face jerks to the side and you’re able to draw a deep breath, he waits until he feels your muscles relax around his hips and then his cock before he starts to move again.

“A goddess of the moon is what you are,” your face turns up to him as he separates your chests and props himself over you, even in the blue darkness and through the fog in your brain you can see that the honey and amber of his eyes has disappeared. “How could I not be drawn to you, like the tides?”

He’s gone poetic again, and you can’t imagine that you’re the source of his inspiration but his gaze is drinking you in as it moves over your face and then down your body. He leans in and places a chaste kiss to your collarbone before pushing away and sitting back on his heels, your legs falling away from him and feet landing on the blanket.

His hands wrap themselves around your thighs, just above your knees and you reach out to feel his stomach flex as he starts to thrust into you again, deep strokes that allow you to feel every inch of him as he drags over your walls.

“Mmm, does that make you the sun, then? Burning so brightly that you make me glow, even in the dark?”

He chuckles even as his cock pulses inside you. “I like that.” His eyes drop to where he’s sliding in and out of you, that dark patch between your thighs only adding to the appeal of your cunt taking him in over and over again. “Fucking hell, keep talking to me.”

It makes you smile, the way he wants to hear you, but… “I don’t have a way with words like you- oh fuck.”

His teeth are gritted, his rhythm getting sloppy. He’s close. “Say those dirty words, I know you know some.”

You let your hands slip from his stomach and land on your own chest, his eyes drawn to the rainbow of your fingertips sinking into the pale flesh of your tits before one travels down your stomach.

“I want you to cum for me, Josh.” He grunts above you and his hips stutter. Your fingertips reach your pubic hair and he groans as they trail through it. “Cum on me. Right here.” You tap your fingers there.

He pulls out of you and grips his dick, pushing the tip into the soft curls and growling your name as his release spills over them.

He strokes himself only a couple of times, shuddering as the last of it empties onto you and planting his fists into the blanket at your sides, his head dropped so that you can only see the halo of curls at the crown of his head. You can hear him breathing heavily, but he doesn’t lift his head to look at you so you run your fingers over his hair.

“Josh?”

“Hm?”

“Look at me?” Before he does, he brings a hand to your mound and slips his thumb over the mess he’s made there, spreading it through your hair with a final soft groan.

When his eyes meet yours, his lids are heavy and his lips are drawn into a tight line. It’s not the expression you were expecting, and it makes you nervous again.

“Did I do something wrong?”

He moves back over you and takes your face into the palm of his hand, his stare is intense as he searches your eyes for something that you're not sure that he’s finding there. Before he answers, he soothes your nerves with a soft, barely there kiss that brushes over your lips just long enough to make them tingle. His forehead drops to yours, sweat-dampened curls pressed between them.

“No, beautiful. I don’t think you ever could.”

Taglist:

@lightmylove-gvf @spicedandicedtea @weneedsomehealing123 @milkgemini @why-ami-on-here @gretavanbitches @twistedmelodies @wildflowerxx-x @dannythedog @blissfulbellss @averagemisfit03 @dharmasdivine @thetroublegetssoloud71 @lucimoo @toxbexannouncedx @dig0930 @maddie-van-fleet @friska101-cg @welllauragvf @gretasimp @objectsinspvce @writingcold @gretavangroupie @sweetybre @gretasgoose @gvfjess @josh-iamyour-mama

This miniseries will have a third part and a short epilogue, please let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the Taglist 🫶

#greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet fic #gvf fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf smut #josh gvf #josh kiszka #gvf fan fiction #greta van fleet #gvf