#creeping cucumber

[rjalker]

[ID: Seven pictures of a creeping cucumber plant and several of its fruits.

The first three pictures show fruits, both ripe and unripe hanging on the plant. The fruits are small green ovals that range from light to dark green with light spots, like tiny cucumbers, to smooth black. The leaves are light green and spiky. A fw tiny yellow flowers are visible.

The next four pictures show a white hand holding several ripe fruits, then holding them up to unripe fruits to show the difference. The last picture shows a different handful of ripe fruits that are partly dried and winkled, all of them solid black.

End ID.]

Creeping cucumbers that are being collected to save seed from from our plant, which we took as a cutting from a wild plant two years ago. The original plant, unfortunately, has been murdered by McDonalds, so this is all that remains. I will make sure some of the seeds are planted in the wild to continue the genetic line. 🫡 [a saluting emoji].

The ripe fruits from this species are not safe to eat, they have extreme laxative properties when eaten by people, but are eaten by many other types of wild animals. We are only harvesting them to save seeds.

The unripe fruits, the green ones with the spots, are safe to eat, and as their name implies, taste like tiny cucumbers. Because this is just a tiny itty bitty cousin of the domestic cucumber.

This species is native to North America, and if you're in or around Savannah, Georgia, at the very least, you can find it in a lot of places if you know what to look for.

We have it in a pot with a tomato cage, but eventually we'll have to get it a proper trellis, as these can grow big enough to climb up trees and hang their fruits 30ft overhead.

fun fact - fire ants will also be happy to eat the ripe berries, which I know because of trying to save seeds from one that had climbed a tree and had to wait until its ripe fruits fell down.

The scientific name is Melothria pendula, because the fruits hang from the vine like the pendulum of a clock.

A lot of scammers online will call them "mouse melons" and photoshop the inside to be red and claim they're tiny watermelons. Do not fall for it.

To save seeds, as with many small fruits, you place the ripe fruits in a bowl or cup of cool water, squish them, pick out the skins, and strain the seeds through a mesh, or if they're too small for that, drain off most of the water and put them on a paper plate. Let them dry somewhere for at least a week, preferably longer, then store them with a label marking the species, date (at least mark the year), and if applicable, the specific plant they came from.

The seeds for these are little solid yellow-white disks.

We started this clone from pieces of stem buried in soil. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, so take multiple stems (if the main plant is big enough not to hurt it, don't try cloning little babies) and try with multiple containers.

[fungus-gnats]

random plant pics (part 4)

[peevishpants]

friends put me onto zucchinis a while ago and holy shit i love zucchinis

[border-collie]

My yard is literally overrun with these guys this summer and with wet July they are fruiting a second time already. I can't eat them fast enough and the birds and Moxie are eating most of them. I picked about a cups worth and am trying a quick pickle on them to see how they hold up to that.

[travalerray]

it's the WORST when you can't interact with a particular fandom at ALL because they are simply incapable of talking about the plot but WILL talk about your NOTP for hours on end so you just mope about it in silence

[katsu28]

first time for everything

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: a lot of things were in the cards for oscar’s first home race. he just wasn’t expecting confessing his love for you to be one of them. (3.3k)

warnings: maybe a swear word idk

a/n: my first oscar fic! not sure if i've got his personality down quite yet but hopefully i've done him justice :)

“You’re nervous.” 

Oscar tore his attention from his phone camera, where he was messing with the swoop of his hair for what had to be the fifth time. He shook his head, though you could probably see right through him. “No, I’m not—I just didn’t sleep that well last night.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you were nervous for today.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“It’s okay to be nervous, Oscar. I’d be more worried if you weren’t.”

You were right, he was nervous about a lot of things—this weekend was his first home race, the first race you were able to attend during his time as a driver for McLaren. But the first thing he learned from competing at this level was to never let his nerves show. Put up a front, make it seem like he was cool as a cucumber so people wouldn’t doubt him, let his skills on the track do all the talking. 

Normally, Oscar was good about that. But you could see right through him. You knew him well enough to know how he was feeling and how to help, even if he himself didn’t quite understand it. 

The story of you and Oscar was quite the cliche, really. He knew of you through a friend of a friend and was instantly intrigued without even meeting you, managed to reach out, and the rest was history. 

You hadn’t even met each other face to face until a month into your constant texting, but when you did finally find the opportunity to meet up in person, it was like you’d both found the other half of yourselves in each other. While Oscar was more of a straight to the point, cut and dry kind of guy, you managed to bring him out of his shell a little bit, to get him to expand his horizons (within reason, of course). 

You were the opposite—always smiling, always happy to try new things, warm and sunshine-y and everything in between. Oscar toned you down without holding you back, reminded you to take a breather before immediately jumping into the next exciting thing, to enjoy what you had while you had it so you wouldn’t miss anything. 

He’d only just gained the courage to ask you out a few months back, but it only seemed fitting that you were here with him for his first race in front of his home crowd.

“It’s a lot to process.” Oscar admitted, letting his shoulders creep up towards his ears in a shrug. You leaned against him, looping an arm through the crook of his elbow and slipping your hand into his for a reassuring squeeze, pressing your chin against his bicep. “I just don’t wanna let anyone down, y’know? Wanna make everyone proud.” 

“You’re going to do great. I promise.” You said firmly, reaching up to push his hair into its perfect place. Oscar nuzzled into your touch on instinct, letting you cradle his cheek in the palm of your hand. Your thumb swept over his cheek a few times, lulling him into a sense of contentment. 

“Forget me. How are you feeling?”

“I’m excited! I’ve never done something like this before.” You replied, letting your hand drop. “And kinda nervous, but it’ll be fine, right?” 

“Yeah, ‘course it will.” 

“Have any sage words of wisdom for a first time paddock goer?” 

“Oh, you know me. Keep your head down, walk fast. There’s gonna be a lot of cameras, lots of fans, they’re all gonna want something from you. I’ll be with you as long as I can, so I’ll be there in case things start to get out of hand.” 

“Can I say hi to the fans?” 

“If you want to, yeah. They already love you.” 

That was another thing Oscar had to be worried about. Today was a day full of firsts, it felt like, because it was also the first time you’d be making your public debut as a couple. You’d already become a fan favorite when the two of you were just friends (two very mutually pining friends, no less), but making your relationship paddock official seemed daunting. 

Oscar wasn’t at all worried about what people would think. In fact, he didn’t really care. He was happier than he’d been in a long time and nothing would change that. What he was worried about was how you’d be treated. Oscar loved the fans, he really did, but there were always that handful who thought they knew him—knew what was best for him. Knew who was best for him. 

If he could protect you from any harm that could possibly be aimed your way, he’d do it in a heartbeat, but things could get so very unpredictable out there. The best he could do was keep you close. 

Your grip on Oscar’s hand tightened just the slightest bit at seeing the sheer amount of people outside the window. Noticing this, he rubbed his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. 

“You don’t have to come along.” He said softly. You tore your eyes away from the passing crowds to look at him. “There’s a back entrance, you can go through there.” 

“No, it’s alright! I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? It’s okay if you're having second thoughts, sweetheart.” 

“I’m not, I promise. It’s kind of a lot, but nothing I can’t handle.” You said firmly, more for yourself than anything. Oscar squeezed your hand with a soft smile. “If you can do it, I can do it.” 

“There you go. You’ll be the star of the show. Everyone’ll be like Oscar Piastri who? There’s the most beautiful girl in the world, and just some guy.” 

You had to bite back a laugh at his words paired with the deadpan expression gracing his face. Oscar always seemed to know how to get you to relax. 

“Well, you’re the hottest just some guy I’ve ever seen.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling at how his fair skin immediately flamed hot under your lips. 

Despite your previous hesitation, you looked entirely in your element as you made the walk hand in hand, looking around with bright eyes and an even brighter smile. Oscar couldn't help but watch you take it all in, not bothering to mask the awe in his eyes as he did so. He wouldn’t be surprised if photos of him looking at you made it to fan Twitter by the end of the day. 

Oscar was whisked away as soon as you got through to hospitality, giving him barely enough time to say goodbye to you before he was shuttled to meeting after meeting, press conferences and pre race interviews, a thousand things to do in the few hours he had before he had to get ready for free practice. 

He was already exhausted by the time he made it back to his driver’s room, pushing open the door with a heaving sigh. You glanced up at the commotion he was making, smiling at him warmly and setting aside your phone.

“Hey, you,” You hummed, holding out your arms towards Oscar as soon as he closed the door behind him. 

“Hi.” Oscar sighed, folding you into his embrace as comfortably as he could in the cramped alcove. There was barely enough room for one person on the bench, let alone you and your boyfriend with his broad shoulders. You shifted sideways to solve the problem, throwing your legs over Oscar’s lap, to which his hand immediately came to rest on your knee. “I missed you.” 

“Wish I could say the feeling was mutual.” You teased. Oscar rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, giving your leg a gentle pinch that you giggled at before leaning in to press a quick peck to his cheek. “I missed you too.” 

“What did you get up to while I was gone?” 

“Oh, so much! I took a walk around the paddock just to check everything out, and I kinda got lost, but someone helped me find my way back eventually.” You shrugged, not noticing the way Oscar’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline. 

“Wait, you got lost? Why didn’t you call me?” 

“You were busy.” You said, very as-a-matter-of-factly. He blinked at you slowly, a blank expression present on his face. “I’m a big girl, Osc, I can find my way around just fine.”  

That made Oscar falter. You were right. He cared so much, especially about you—so much so that sometimes he forgot you were entirely capable of taking care of yourself. 

“A lot of people asked to take pictures with me. Me! Isn’t that crazy?” You exclaimed, beaming bright. “I promised one of them your sweaty fireproofs in return, but that’s beside the point.” 

“You what?” He spluttered, eyes widening almost comically. His fingers froze in their fiddling with the rings adorning your fingers. 

“I’m kidding, obviously. Lighten up, Oscie, jeez.” 

Oscar rolled his eyes playfully. “Right, well I’m glad you’re having fun.” 

“You know what would make this day even more fun?” 

“I don’t think I want to.” 

You stuck your tongue out at him before continuing. “Can I meet Charles Leclerc? Is that something you can pull off?” 

Technically speaking, it would be extremely easy for him to pull off. All he really had to do was bring you over to the Ferrari motorhome for a quick introduction, and he was sure Charles would take a liking to you, just like every other driver you’d gotten to meet so far. You had that kind of persona; one that made people want to get to know you. 

Oscar quite liked that about you. What he wouldn’t like as much was you being immediately wooed by the driver’s seemingly irresistible French charm. And yeah, you were Oscar’s girlfriend and Charles also had a girlfriend of his own, but still. Nobody wanted to see the girl they loved fawning over another man, even one as cool as Charles Leclerc.

But Oscar would never tell you that, because he loved you, and he’d do anything to make you happy. 

“Uh…yeah, sure. I could probably get you an intro, if that’s something you really want.” He heard himself saying, scratching the back of his neck. His heart thudded a little harder in his chest at the way your face lit up. 

“Really?” 

Oscar smiled tightly. “Why not? D’you wanna go now? There’s some time before we need to be on track.” 

“That would be amazing, Osc.” 

“Right then, let’s go.” He nudged your legs off him, heaving himself to his feet with a groan that would usually be associated with someone much older than him. You threaded your fingers through his as soon as he finished popping all his joints like an old man, following his lead out of the room and the motorhome, all the way to the bright Ferrari red building a few doors down. 

Luckily, Charles was sitting at one of the tables in the main area, so you didn’t have to look far to find him. 

“Charles, mate, you got a second?” 

The aforementioned Monegasque tore his attention from his phone upon hearing Oscar’s voice, an easygoing smile already present on his face. “Oscar! What can I do for you, mate?” His eyes found you next, and he nodded politely. “Hello!” 

“Hi.” You said quietly, clinging to Oscar’s hand tightly. This feeling was foreign to you. You’d never been so stunned into silence by someone before, but maybe that was because you’d never met someone as well known as the Charles Leclerc. 

“This is my girlfriend. It’s her first time in the paddock and she’s a big fan of yours, figured I could introduce the two of you. Y/N, Charles. Charles, Y/N.” 

“Ah, yes, I’ve heard much about you!” Charles exclaimed, popping to his feet. He moved forward to embrace you, wrapping you in a warm hug like he’d known you for a long time, let alone just met you not even fifteen seconds ago. 

Oscar never really understood the whole hugging thing Charles had going on. Maybe it was a French thing. Either way, the hug seemed to have shaken you out of whatever starstruck daze you were in, because you straightened up. 

Charles smiled warmly. “Welcome to your first race. I trust they are treating you well over at McLaren?” 

“There’s definitely a few perks.” You replied, returning his infectious smile. You squeezed Oscar’s hand as you said it, and part of him felt a smidge proud that you considered him a perk. Charles laughed goodnaturedly. “I hate to sound so forward, but I wanted to say I love your music. The way you play piano is…the only way I can think to describe it is beautiful.” 

“Oh wow, you—thank you! That means a lot, thank you. Do you play?” 

“A little bit, but I haven’t had much time to sit at the bench lately.” You replied, giving a haphazard shrug. Charles nodded sympathetically, like he understood the troubles of carving out time to play. “D’you mind if I ask you a bit more about your inspiration while I’ve got you?”

“Of course, yes, yes, I would love to talk about it!” 

Oscar touched a hand to the small of your back to snag your attention for a second. He liked music as much as the next person, but not as much as you and Charles, it seemed. “I’ll be over there.” 

You nodded, popping up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before returning to your animated conversation with Charles. 

Now, Oscar wasn’t a jealous guy by any means. On the contrary he was always quite calm and collected, so he thought he’d be fine. Secretly a little miffed, sure. It was nothing he couldn’t handle, but actually seeing you go starry eyed while talking to Charles sparked something inside him. He didn’t know how hard he was squeezing the can in his hand until he felt liquid trickling down the sleeve of his fireproofs. 

“Ah, shit.” He muttered, shaking out his arm frustratedly. 

“Stare at her any harder and she might burst into flames, mate.” 

Oscar glanced to his left to see Lando standing there, arms crossed over his chest, expectant brow arched. 

“Dunno know what you’re talking about.” Oscar grumbled, moving to toss the now crumpled can into the nearest rubbish bin. Lando looked wildly unconvinced. “What?” 

“Don’t feed me that shit, Oscar, you’re way too easy to read for me to believe you’re not absolutely fucking in love with Y/N.” 

Oscar made an offended noise from the back of his throat. “I am not easy to read.” 

“Mate, you’re the openest book in the history of open books right now.” 

“Openest isn’t a word.” 

“Whatever! Stop deflecting.” Lando scoffed, wrinkling his nose. “You love her. Tell her that.” 

“I can’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“What if it’s too soon? What if she doesn’t feel the same way yet?” 

“You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you’re kidding.” Lando groaned, letting his head tilt back in exasperation. Oscar squinted at him, unamused. “Oh, you’re serious? Mate, come on. Just today, in the half a day I’ve known her, I’ve seen the way she looks at you when you’re not looking. I see the way you look at her when she’s not looking. It’s obvious. You’re both obnoxiously in love with each other, and it’s sickening.” 

The corners of Oscar’s mouth lifted into a grin. “Really?” 

“Oh my god, yes, really. I mean honestly, how dense can you be?” 

“A lot, it seems.” Oscar cast another glance at you, feeling a lot better than he had a few minutes ago. You were laughing at something Charles had said, but now all that was running through his mind was how pretty you looked when you laughed. How happy you looked talking to a person you held a lot of admiration for. Professional admiration, nothing more. 

Part of him felt a little guilty. He should’ve been supportive the whole time, not sulking around being a jealous little prick thinking you would ever choose Charles over him. 

“No point in overthinking it now, bro.” 

“Since when did you become such a wise old man?” 

“Oi, watch it, you muppet. I’m only two years older than you.” Lando huffed, rolling his eyes. “And I’ve always been wise, thank you for noticing.” 

“Sure you have.” 

“Tell her.” 

Oscar nodded once, accepting the clap on the shoulder Lando gave him. “I will. Thank you.” 

“Of course. And if you ever need any more advice, come on down to Lando’s love shack, where you can get—” 

“Leave now, I’m begging you.” Lando took the hint, wandering away to go wreak havoc somewhere else, leaving Oscar alone with his own thoughts as he waited for you to finish up. It wasn’t long until you were making your way back over, practically aglow with excitement as you approached him. “Made a new best friend, have you?” 

You snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, of course. We’ve already arranged to go on a double date when we’re all in Monaco at the same time.” 

“Ha ha, very funny. You do know Ferrari’s one of our top competitors, right?” Oscar laced his fingers through yours once more, letting your joined hands swing between the two of you as you walked. 

“You know what they say—keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. Consider my blossoming friendship with Charles your way into the heart and soul of Ferrari’s strategies. You’re welcome.” 

You were just joking, of course, and it made Oscar smile. Lando was right. Oscar was in love with you. He tugged you off the main path suddenly, leading you to a more secluded area between motorhomes. 

“Osc? What’re you—” You were entirely cut off by him stopping in his tracks, and before you could comprehend what was happening, he was kissing you. He curled a hand around the back of your neck, the other coming up to cup your cheek gently. 

It was by all means a sweet kiss, but a completely unexpected one nonetheless. Oscar had never been a public display of affection sort of guy before, so for him to kiss you out of the blue where anyone could see you…well, let's just say there was a first time for everything.

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You let out a noise of surprise, but returned his kiss wholeheartedly as soon as you realized what was happening. 

“That was new.” You breathed as soon as he pulled away, splaying your palms across the firm plane of his chest to steady yourself after he’d kissed the living daylights out of you. Oscar’s eyes fluttered open slowly, a dazed grin stretching his lips. “You feeling alright, babe?” 

“I love you.” 

Immediately, you beamed, lighting up faster than a bonfire on a warm Melbourne night. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Well, it’s about damn time you said it.” You poked his chest playfully, stifling a giggle at the way he did the biggest double take ever at your words. 

“You—hang on, what?” 

“I was waiting for you to be the one to say it first.” You shrugged. Oscar’s brow scrunched in confusion now. “Didn’t wanna scare you off and lose one of the best things in my life.” 

“So…you do feel the same way?” 

You reached up, smoothing a stray curl away from his forehead fondly. “Do I love you? ‘Course I do. I think I’ve loved you since the first time we met.” 

“That was a good one, I should’ve said that. You’re so much better at this than I am.” 

“What can I say? I’ve got the best just some guy as my inspiration.” 

“I see what you did there. That’s gonna become a thing now, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, Osc,” You sighed, patting his cheek affectionately. “It already has.” 

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[noblehcart]

i cannot believe i had a 'cucumber' moment in tjmaxx.

[andypantsx3]

HOME, SAFE, YOURS : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

CONTENT & WARNINGS: pro hero au, gender neutral reader, established relationship, care-taking, aged-up characters, smut (reader gives shouto a shower handjob), 18+ minors please dni!

WORD COUNT: 2k

Shouto looks worn as he toes off his boots in the genkan.

It's not the first time your boyfriend has come home looking tired, and it's thankfully nothing like the bone-deep exhaustion that always pulls at him after a truly harrowing shift. But it's very clear Shouto has stretched himself today, judging by the slightly slower, more ginger way he's carrying himself.

Drawing closer, you can see dirt and ash scraped over his high cheekbones, and that much confirms your suspicions. Definitely a tough take down today, if he's looking this beat up.

"Hi Sho," you say, hurrying over to throw your arms around him, relieved to have him back in your hands. It's a little easier with the height the genkan step gives you, putting his broad shoulders in easier reach. "Tough day today?"

Shouto's arms come around you as he presses his face into your shoulder, breathing in deeply. He's cold, the chill from outside still lingering on his clothes, on his skin. He smells like ash and sweat.

"Hello, love," he says, his voice a low rumble you can feel against you. "It was... difficult."

You grip him tighter, holding him to you. "I'm glad you're safe."

His mouth is warm on the skin of your neck. "I am glad to come home to you."

A smile pulls at your mouth as you pet through his hair. It's soft and silky, but a little piecey—the after effect of having used phosphor, you know. You spend a couple moments absently running your fingers through the strands, clinging to as much of his shoulder as you can reach, reveling in the feeling of him back in your embrace, home safe where you like him best.

Shouto lets you hold him, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, the line of tension in his shoulders unwinding. His breath tickles your skin, slow and even. You cling just a little bit more tightly.

"Let's get some soup in you and get you in the shower, huh?" you say after you've stood like that for some minutes, your voice a little startling in the quiet of your apartment. You lightly tug on a hunk of his hair, inquiring.

Shouto doesn't move, just huffs softly into your shoulder.

You can't help but grin again, charmed by him as always, shifting so you can clutch his face in your hands and pull him up for a kiss instead. This time Shouto goes easily, his mouth following yours, his kiss soft and sweet and slow.

Shouto takes his time with you, so you do too, pouring your relief and your happiness to see him again into the kiss. His hands tighten on your back like he understands, hitching you up against him a bit more firmly.

"Soup time," you tell him when he finally lets your mouth go. Those heterochromatic eyes flutter open, and he frowns a little bit, leaning back in.

You smile into another kiss, laughing when his hands creep down your sides, charting a path to your thighs where you know he intends to pick you up once he's got you. Any other day and you'd let him take you against the wall right there in the genkan. But he's moving so slow you know it will be a struggle for him today, and you don't want him to strain himself any more than he already has.

There are other ways you can show your affection, today.

You quickly worm out of his embrace, dodging when he reaches out a long-fingered hand for you, frowning again. Fuck, he's so cute.

"Soup first," you order him, marching him into the kitchen.

A tiny pout purses his mouth but you're not to be deterred—you set him up at the table with a hot bowl of soup and several of last night's leftover sides; blanched spinach ohitashi and simmered squash. You plop an extra bowl of chicken and cucumber marinade directly in front of his soup as well—knowing full well he'll need the extra protein after a day like today.

As you hoped, the food quickly overtakes your boyfriend's focus. In your experience pro heroes need to intake an insane amount of calories, and even more on days they've utilized their quirks to the extreme. Shouto is no exception, his temperature quirk one of the most voracious energy burners of all, and very quickly the bowls in front of him begin to empty.

He looks even more exhausted when he finishes, and you wolf down your own bowl of soup, cutting him off as he attempts to clear the table.

"Go shower," you tell him, leaning down for a kiss even as you yank a bowl out of his long, elegant fingers.

Shouto looks up at you again, a microscopic downturn to his mouth that would be unreadable on anyone else, but on him counts as a pout. "You said after soup—"

"I'll join you when I'm done," you promise, your heart swelling with affection. It always pleases you that time with you seem to be his priority, even when he's clearly tired like this.

You laugh when this works like a charm, Shouto leaning in for another kiss before obeying. You hear the shower gutter and hiss on as you scrub the bowls in the sink, laying everything out to dry on the counter.

The bathroom is already hot and thick with steam when you let yourself in, and the mirror fogging. Shouto's left the curtain askew and your mouth dries out a little at the peeks of his body you can see—all that lean, sleek muscle glinting wetly in the light.

You step out of your clothes and slide in behind him, throwing an arm around his waist. His shoulders look especially broad in the small stall of your shower, taking up nearly the entire width, and you lean up to kiss in between them, letting your mouth linger.

"Hello, love," Shouto says, trying to turn to look at you. You hold him in place with your grip on his trim waist, reaching up to run a hand through the wet strands of his hair.

"Let me take care of you tonight," you say, pouring your insistence into your tone.

There's not much you can do to help Shouto with a job like pro heroics, particularly without a quirk of your own. But what you can do, what you like to do, is be there for him in the little ways—feeding him soup, washing his hair, taking the reigns when he's tired like this.

The contraction of Shouto's abdomen under your fingers as he sucks in a breath tells you he's understood your meaning. He shifts in your arms to face you, ducking in for a hard, wet kiss. Hot water spatters over your shoulder as he does so, pooling in the places where his skin meets yours.

You let him kiss you, slow and careful. Then you reach past him to uncap his shampoo, and rake it carefully through the strands of his hair, as Shouto obligingly keeps his head bent for you. You admire the way his long eyelashes flutter against his high cheekbones, the way his lovely mouth looks so soft and relaxed like this.

You take your time, moving slowly and carefully, before reaching for his conditioner. You slowly massage that in too, blinking against the water on your face when Shouto pulls you closer to him, pressing his face into your shoulder and huffing out another relaxed breath.

He could be asleep standing up by the time you move onto his his body wash, but he shivers as you run your hands over him. You love the feeling of him in your hands, all that slick, tight, dense muscle under your fingers.

He's so beautiful, so divinely-crafted. Sometimes you cannot believe Todoroki Shouto is yours to love and to care for.

His breath comes a little faster when your hands slide down his trim waist, as you work the suds into the V of his hips. "Love," he says, his voice low, rumbling.

"Turn around," you tell him, gently reaching up to move him as you do so.

You let your hands slide back in place, and then let them slip lower, taking Shouto into your hand. He's velvet soft in your fingers, but obligingly hard, thick and full—and even though you can't see him, you know just how pretty he looks in your palm. You press a kiss to his shoulder blade as he shudders, a powerful arm coming up to prop himself up against the shower wall.

You work him slowly at first, just as carefully as you'd pulled the shampoo through his hair. The flex of his abs against the palm of your other hand is transfixing, the shine and glint of the light over his muscles as he shifts in your fingers hypnotizing. Both of you linger in the moment, letting it stretch out long and hot and sweet, thick and slow like honey.

Shouto lets out a low groan when you thumb over the head of his cock, the arm he has pressed to the wall tensing. You do it again, reveling in the flex of his bicep, the roll of a powerful shoulder.

Shouto is the only person on earth as beautiful on the outside as he is on the inside, and you drink it all in, the sight of him, the beautiful sound of him as he utters your name, low and smooth and thick with feeling.

You keep pumping him like that, exactly how you know he likes, until he strains in your hands, that trim waist flexing as he can't help but rut into your grip.

One of your arms clutches him tighter against you as work him faster, and he lets out a soft moan, his fingers curling into a fist on the shower wall. It's only a minute or so more before he's arching into your hand, his hips bucking.

You tighten your fingers, thumbing over his head again, and that's all it takes. Shouto groans your name into the hiss of the shower spray, and comes all over your palm, every muscle in his body straining forwards.

He's so beautiful as he comes apart in your hands. His chest is heaving when you finally stop, and he shifts in your arms again, ducking his head to press an exhausted, satisfied kiss to your mouth.

"Thank you, love," he intones, those heterochromatic eyes settling on you, dark with pleasure. Pink stains his high cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, and he looks flush with effort, exactly the way he does after he takes you apart in bed most nights.

You grin up at him, leaning up on your toes to press another kiss to his mouth. "I love you, Sho."

He murmurs his reply into your mouth, and you run your hands over him again, pulling through his wet locks.

"Now let's get you into bed," you tell him bossily, reaching past him to turn off the shower spray.

"What about you, love?" he asks, a little frown marring his perfect mouth. You kiss it off of him, then tug him out of the shower and wrap him in a fluffy towel, scrubbing it over his hair.

You'll get back in to take your own shower properly in the morning, you know, and once Shouto has slept things off, he will be eager to return the favor. For now though, you tell him you are satisfied just to be with him, to be near him, to take care of him.

You tell him you love him again, and pull him into bed, still damp and sweet and pliant with his release. You're satisfied as he melts into sleep, his exhaustion winning out.

Truthfully, there is nothing more you want in this life, you think, as you follow after him, slipping into slumber too. You want him like this always, relaxed in your embrace—home, safe, yours.

Happy New Year from me!! I wanted to give you one more Shouto before the year was out. Thank you guys so much for everything this year. I am continually grateful to be a part of this community, and I will work hard to learn more and give you my best in 2024!!

[etherealbelphie]

Obey Me Headcanon

There's a group chat between everyone except MC, and the sole purpose of that group chat is to share candid photos and videos of MC.

They do this because:

1. If they all pitch in, they all get more MC content (because it's basically canon that all of them are obsessed with MC-)

And

2. They get to learn about sides of MC that they don't usually see.

Some images and videos sent in this chat include:

A photo of MC, focused on their work so intently they're sticking their tongue out

A video of MC aggressively playing Just Dance by themselves when they thought no one else was around

A voice recording of MC going on a rant about the lore of a video game

A photo of MC playing with a stray cat

A photo of MC in spa mode, complete with cucumbers and a face mask

A video of MC with flour all over them, singing as they make dinner

A photo of MC reading in the RAD garden

A video of MC talking to themselves while they do their chores

The results of MC having messed up a potion (what happened is up to you)

And lastly, one reoccurring theme is that every single time MC falls asleep with someone, that person sends a photo in the group chat as a sort of brag.

How would your MC react if they found the group chat?

Mine would be both a little creeped out and a little flattered.

[cameronspecial]

I'm Here

Pairing: Dad!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.7K

Summary: Taking care of kids can be stressful, especially when running on low sleep. Good thing Rafe is a supportive husband.

Masterlist

Y/N had been home all day with three-year-old Mila and newborn Parker. It had been a stressful day for the mother with the former refusing to eat anything her mother made and the latter refusing to stop crying her little head off. She is on the verge of crying and she wants to call Rafe for backup, but she knows he has important meetings today. “How about a nice plate of dumplings? Mommy can order some,” Y/N offers her three-year-old. Mila shakes her head defiantly and crosses her arms, “NO!” The shout triggers her younger sister into another round of screaming. Y/N squeezes her eyes shut and rounds the corner to go pick up her crying daughter. “Mila, please don’t shout around Parker. You know it upsets her,” she chides her eldest. This causes Mila to start her own crying and this stresses Y/N out even more. The mother starts bouncing the baby up and down to see if it will calm her. 

At that moment, Rafe enters through the front door wearing his dress shirt with the sleeves buttoned up his forearm, his tie untied and hanging from his neck, and in black dress pants. His hair is devilishly run through by his fingers. This sexy business look is the reason why Parker was born. Y/N can’t admire her husband’s handsomeness because the newborn baby in her arms starts wiggling like crazy. Y/N’s face contorts to stress, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe. “Are they going through another phase?” he asks, coming to give her a kiss. Y/N relishes in the feeling of his lips, “Yes. One doesn’t want to eat anything and the other won’t stop crying. I don’t know what is going on.” Tears start to swell in her eyes as her frustration starts to creep to the surface. Rafe sits beside her on the couch and gives her back a reassuring rub. He places a kiss on her temple and takes Parker into his arms. 

“It’s okay, I’m here. Why don’t you let me take care of the kids? I know you can handle it, but I also know you didn’t get a lot of sleep last night because you were taking care of Parker so that I could get to work on time. I am very grateful for that, so why don’t you take a nap while I take care of the kids,” he suggests, walking over to Mila and placing her on her chair at the table. Y/N closes her eyes and takes a small nap. When she wakes up, she can’t help but notice the silence and gush at the sight before her. Rafe is in the kitchen cutting strawberries into a star shape. Every few cuts, he would move Parker’s bassinet back and forward. Once all of the strawberries are cut, Rafe moves on to flipping the grilled cheeses on the stove. He plates the sandwiches and cuts them into a heart shape. He makes sure to eat any of the excess food so it doesn’t go to waste. 

He puts the strawberries onto the plate next to the sandwich and adds some square-shaped cucumbers too. He takes one plate over to Mila, who is watching Bluey while she patiently waits for her food, and brings the other one over to his wife. He checks over his shoulder to make sure that Mila is eating her food and gives Y/N a kiss on the lips. “I know you haven’t eaten, so please eat,” he whispers against her lips. Y/N gives him a relieved smile and takes the plate into her hands, “Thank you. How did you get Mila to eat and Parker to stop crying?” Rafe sits beside her and brings her onto his lap. “It took some bargaining to get Mila to eat. She would eat whatever I made her if I cut it into a pretty shape. And to get Parker to stop crying, I found blankie and it made her stop crying,” he tells her. 

Y/N ahh’s in understanding as to what she did wrong. She doesn’t feel like a bad parent for forgetting those details about her daughters, she knows her tiredness was the reason behind it. She is just thankful that Rafe was there to help support her. 

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere coworker (part 9)

Tw: afab reader, non con touching, non con kissing, violence, cyprus mad n yelling

Masterlists, part 1, part 10

It's been a little over a month now. You barely get to sleep at your own apartment anymore ever since you got that fever.

Because Cyprus kept stealing your stuff and blackmailing you with it, you've never missed a night of sleeping at his place. It's like you're living there now, your pyjamas are Cyprus's large clothes and you've been wearing the same few outfits to work over and over, thanks to the free washing services downstairs.

Once or twice, he lets you visit your home just to pack up your skincare, soaps and whatever you need. He already bought you a new toothbrush earlier on in this relationship. Cyprus wouldn't allow you to take your gaming consoles though, he said he didn't want it to "clog up" his apartment.

It's... Nice. You didn't have to worry about what to eat. The bills are paid for. Your rent was also paid for despite barely living there anymore, you had no idea how Cyprus managed to transfer the accounts to his without you knowing. It didn't seem to put too much pressure on him, he was still as cool as a cucumber. You wonder how much he earns in a month.

You didn't have to deal with that creep back at your apartment, but you knew that he was lurking around, watching you and Cyprus during the rare visits. However, as long as that hunk of a man is next to you, he wouldn't dare to approach. That's a plus, at least.

You just had to get used to Cyprus's molester tendencies. It doesn't matter how hostile you would be with him, he would always try to seize every possible opportunity to touch you.

He would pull you into the staircase during lunch, just to make out with you until your legs grow weak and your head goes blank. Cyprus said it helps with his insatiable urge to smoke, you think it's at least helping him, so you're somewhat okay with this treatment. Totally not because you're secretly enjoying the attention and experiences he's giving you.

You managed to convince yourself that being with Cyprus isn't all that bad. He cooks, he cleans, he defends you from Jane, he prepares a cup of your favourite drink every morning and delivers it to your desk, he clocks you out and helps you greatly with your phone addiction.

He sets a limit where you can only use your phone for a grand total of two hours per day. Just to text your friends and family, but he made you delete all social media off your digital slab. Which caused a massive meltdown on your part, where you would cry and flail, and spit and hiss. But Cyprus was unmoving, he's determined to rid you of his modern curse.

Most of your time is filled with doing something else, visiting the beach, and the park, going on motorbike rides with Cyprus, having his tongue shoved down your throat, watching his violent boxing matches, eating at restaurants, talking, and visiting places that you always see on social media, but never been to (Ie., the zoo, the aquarium, carnivals and some other trending venues). You would come back dead exhausted from the day's activities, and you're astonished at how he never seems to run out of energy or date ideas.

You could cry, sob, beg, and struggle, yet he wouldn't allow you to rot in his bed or yours. There must be a destination to go to every day, after work. He would sling your entire body over his shoulder if he had to, it wasn't a fun experience being hung upside down while your legs helplessly flail around.

His lifestyle was completely different than yours, it's almost as if he's living in the 80s- sometimes even completely forgetting to bring his phone with him. That is unfathomable to you, forgetting your phone is just like forgetting your vision, how anyone could live without it, you couldn't understand.

It would be a lie to say that you never had any fun. You would start off teary-eyed and throwing a tantrum because all you wanted to do was take a nap or play your videogames after a long day of work, but in the end, you would be laughing gleefully with cotton candy in one hand, and a stuffed animal in another. You would collapse immediately upon coming back to his place, allowing you to have a complete, 8 hours of sleep a day without fail.

As it turns out, Cyprus only uses his gadgets for work or for research on where to go, or date ideas. Not even for navigation, he used old-fashioned paper maps for that. His screen time is unbelievably low, you wonder if he's actually a modern man or someone from the pre-smartphone era.

Cyprus began to have a "candy drawer" at work, where he would offer sweet treats to nobody but you.

You think he's using that as a substitute for smoking during hours when he couldn't assault your mouth with his, putting actual work into quitting his habit. It's almost admirable, you just wish that he didn't rope you into it as well. You missed your phone badly.

From there, you found out that his favorite candies are mostly cinnamon-flavoured or chewy liquorice sticks. Oddly enough, you couldn't taste whatever he ate when you and he mashed kissers. There is a faint hint of cinnamon, but the licorice isn't there. There was a moderately intense scent of mint, though.

Now everyone in the office knows that you and Cyprus are a pair. Even those from other departments and floors knew not to steal you away from him. Because he once caught someone from marketing flirting with you, he was then let go a few days later. You and your coworkers knew he had something to do with it since he kept entering his supervisor's office with a stack of papers.

You took a peek at them once, their account balances, supposedly serving as evidence that his rival was embezzling company funds with the help of someone in Finance.

There was a new hire that tried to make moves on you. Cyprus made it very clear that you were his by interrupting the conversation with a passionate kiss on your lips. He then barked at the newbie to leave you alone. It's now a must to tell all newcomers about your relationship with Cyprus, and why he isn't to be messed with.

It's very different from the usual, stoic, and professional Cyprus the office once knew. On all matters relating to work or otherwise, he still maintains that frosty, quiet, and monotonous exterior. But when it comes to you? The message is clear: Do not touch his woman. Even looking at you wrongly will cause him to try and sabotage their career.

Your coworkers used that new feature to their advantage. If they wanted to find him for something (Ie., regarding the annual financial report, discuss an error from his side, politics, etc.), all they needed to do was find you and exchange a couple of words. Cyprus will then appear to manifest out of thin air to possessively protect his territory.

They knew not to abuse it too much, though. A man tried to summon him through you one time too many, he came back from lunch late, with an eye swollen shut, a bloody nose, some teeth knocked out of his mouth and bruises all over his body. When quizzed about what happened, he refused to say anything to anyone and refused to press charges on his anonymous assailant. He avoided your gaze and ran away whenever you tried talking to him. Shortly after, he transferred departments and you never saw him around again.

You still didn't know what he said to Jane to make her deathly afraid of him. To this date, she hasn't tried anything with you; allowing you to go home at 5 pm sharp and holding her tongue whenever you made a mistake.

You have come to know a lot about him since he likes talking; sharing about himself and knowing more about you. Unfortunately, Cyprus remarked how embarrassing it is that you have nothing to say about yourself except to describe what you see online. And you didn't realize what you did until he pointed it out, which kept you up at night reflecting on your life so far.

He has friends that he would regularly talk about, they were who you would think Cyprus would associate with: Loud, brash, and sharing a mutual hatred for work and their superiors.

You couldn't remember the names of his closest friends, maybe it's because you believed that this relationship between him and you wouldn't last long. However, you do know he has three best friends, all male.

Today, he's bringing you to meet them in the same pub where you first ate dinner with him. Of course, you didn't want to go. He had to drag you into his car, hissing and spitting as usual. You felt insulted that he would be nonchalant, carrying you without being visibly affected by your hits. As if you're his inanimate suitcase.

When the car starts moving, you would turn docile. Not wanting him to crash or injure yourself by jumping out. He would always have a victorious grin on his face, knowing that he won once again.

You're nervous because you already don't like Cyprus. You couldn't imagine dealing with three more, it might just cause a blood vessel in your forehead to pop. Your boyfriend tried reassuring you by rubbing your thigh while he drove. No matter how you press against the door to try and get away from his grabby hands, he will always reach you.

Reaching the pub, he parked in a spot but told you to wait in the car for a while. It didn't take long until the deafening noises of motorbikes made you shut your ears with your hands. You peered out the window to see three, black and sleek motorcycles pull up around Cyprus's cars. Their drivers all wore leather jackets with customized helmets, and a feminine figure was behind each one, which you assume was his buddies' girlfriends.

They excitedly hopped off their vehicles and started knocking on Cyprus's windows. You cower deeper into your seat in fear as Cyprus rolls them down.

"What the hell, Cy? Just got out of work or something?" One of his friends stuck his arm into the window and pressed on the honk, making you wince at the sudden loudness.

"Yeah, what's with the car? We always come here with our bikes!" Another one slapped the top of Cyprus's car.

"Don't tell us you agreed to work overtime!" The last one jabbed Cyprus in the head, causing your boyfriend to jab his friend's head back.

"Oh my god! Is that her? She's so cute!" The women gushed at you as they took off their helmets. "Hi! What's your name?" You squirmed uncomfortably when they all jutted their hands inside the car to squeeze your cheeks, stroke your hair, and tickle your chin. You felt so violated, already at the brink of tears as their girlfriends continued taking turns petting you.

"Get the fuck away from my car, all of you!" Roared Cyprus, he was so loud that your ear temporarily rang. You couldn't imagine what it was like for his friends that are right next to him.

They backed off, but it didn't seem like they were surprised or upset. Instead, they were giggling and smiling at each other. Is it normal for Cyprus to lose his temper like this?

He stormed out of his car and started yelling at his friends and their partners. "What the fuck is wrong with all of you? I told you all to behave, look at what you did to my girl!" Cyprus marched up to your door, glowering at the women in the process.

He opened the door and cupped your cheeks, wiping away the tears that you didn't know were falling from your eyes.

"Aw... We're sorry." The women had a guilty and sympathetic look on their faces. The men awkwardly looked away and scratched the back of their heads.

"Give me a moment to talk to them, doll." He murmured, tenderly kissing you on the forehead before turning around to scowl at his friends.

All six of them already knew where Cyprus wanted them to go, it was like watching a dog herding sheep into a secluded place.

You watched Cyprus yell at them harshly while their gazes were downcast, it seemed like the girlfriends got more scolding than the men. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion when you spotted that it almost seemed like they were trying to stifle a laugh while being torn a new one by Cyprus. Are they not afraid of him? Do they not respect him, or is this just their dynamic?

He stomped back to you once he was done flaming their asses, while the rest went into the pub.

Cyprus sighed as he shook his head in disapproval, he unbuckled your belt and held onto your hand.

"Come on, let's go in."

__

You're seated next to your boyfriend at a large table, and one of the girlfriends excitedly takes the chair beside you. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously at her as he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him.

Now that you had a closer look, you noticed that the women wore beautiful and stylish clothes, had long, healthy hair, had long, acrylic nails on, and their thick makeup looked like it was applied by a professional.

The first ten minutes were spent catching up between the men and their partners, joking around. You were too intimidated to participate, opting to anxiously grip your pint of beer and pretending to drink, so you wouldn't need to speak. All that anger and rage from Cyprus evaporated, he is much more playful and animated now, yet equally as loud as his friends.

You had to jam your fingers into your ear canal to bear with the explosive environment.

"Oh, what about this cutie right here? We didn't even catch your name, and we made you cry. Poor thing." Dread washed over you as the girl next to you suddenly brought all seven pairs of eyes on you.

You took a deep breath as everyone fell silent, waiting for your response. Eventually, you stammered your name.

There was a beat of silence, followed by one of the men cheering excitedly, and then all of them joined in, boisterously welcoming you into the circle.

You took a deep breath and exhaled, this is going to be a long night...

Each of them fought to ask you questions about yourself, cutting each other off and speaking at the same time. You couldn't tell who was saying what, and what was being said. It is just one big cacophony of voices.

Only when you brought your palms to your ears, Cyprus shouted one more time to shut everyone up.

"I told you all to fucking behave! We're leaving if you all can't stop acting like animals!" He berated.

You looked around, there were patrons throwing glances your way, but most of them didn't care. It didn't make the situation any less awkward for you.

"Aww... We're sorry." The woman next to you had her hand hovering over your head, about to patronizingly stroke your hair as if you were a leashed pet, but Cyprus slapped it away and glared at her.

She merely rolled her eyes at Cyprus and huffed, dramatically flopping onto her man's chest. Her boyfriend gave numerous kisses on the 'injured' hand as she mock sobbed.

Cyprus spoke for you, basic information about how you and he met. A simple description of your personality, but he did emphasize 'shy' more than twice. You wonder what their definition of 'Shy' meant.

The conversation revolved around you now, but you didn't say a word. Too afraid that you might excite them too much again. It was humiliating to be hiding under Cyprus's jacket while clinging onto him, but they were genuinely scary.

The woman next to you tried to touch you discretely, having her thigh brush yours, her fingers grazing your knee, her stocking-clad feet gently rubbing your calf up and down. Driving you closer and closer to Cyprus until you're positively pressed up against him.

Whenever you looked back at her, she would have this gleeful smile. Well, all the girlfriends had this same look on them whenever you paid them any attention. It's as if they're overcome by cuteness aggression, since they're mildly gyrating in their seats as soon as you made eye contact.

There was a point where they chatted amongst themselves while Cyprus took a couple of sips from his beer. You tugged on his shirt to catch his attention.

"Yes, princess?" He cooed, craning his neck down so he could hear you.

You told him that you want to go home. You don't like his friends, especially their overly friendly partners.

He frowned. He opened his mouth to say something, but one of his friends decided to pipe up.

"Hey! Share with the class, what the hell are you two talking about?"

"She speaks!? We have got to hear it!"

"Come on, Cy! Let us in!"

He slammed his fist on the table, silencing everyone once again and causing a bit of their beers to spill.

"That's it." He growled, rising up from his seat and holding you tight. "We're leaving."

All six of them began whining loudly, pawing at Cyprus and yourself, begging you both to stay.

"You all can fuck off to hell." He spat, whipping out enough cash to cover the beers for you and him.

"Come on, doll. We're going home."

He stared at you, waiting for you to lead the way.

However, you thought about it. Maybe they meant well; just a little too eager to know you. Maybe you could get more information about him through his friends, perhaps you could act like the opposite of his type.

[realcube]

˖°.𓆩♡𓆪 .°˖ TROPE GENERATOR for @jomteaaa

𓆩♡𓆪 part of my lovers level — 3k follower event

𓆩♡𓆪 chosen character: tsukishima kei

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ YOUR TROPE IS...

TSUNDERE

before you started dating, tsukishima treated you with the same distaste and contempt as he did with everyone else. and after you got together, he treated you even worse: he'd pick on you in the hallways, steal your phone when you're not looking and tease you constantly.

for some reason it's physically impossible for him to behave normally towards you in front of his peers, he has to make a point of acting cold and mean. at first it peeved you because the whole point of having a boyfriend was making each other feel loved, but he wasn't very good at that.

but it's alright. you find out that he makes up for it in private. in fact, he's like a whole other person.

you're sat on your couch, sketching digitally while tsukishima is sat next to you, and is quite absorbed in the manga he is reading. originally you had invited him over to study togehter, but even now that you were finished, neither of you could bare to part just yet. not that you would ever say that to each other, but it was a silent understanding. so you sat on the couch together, enjoying the other's company.

until he heard you sneeze. then, he swiftly pulled a tissue out the box and shuffled over so he was sitting right beside you, then handed it over.

you smile, wiping your nostrils a little, "thank you, kei." you mutter.

he nods, and watches as you get up to throw the tissue away in a nearby bin. however, when you walk back over to the couch to reclaim your original spot, he instead gracefully slips his hand in with yours and motions for you to sit on his legs, and which you giggle, "what's up with you?" you ask innocently.

his forehead wrinkles and he knits his eyebrows together, "sorry for wanting to sit with my girlfriend." he retorts, and you simply roll your eyes and how defensive he's being, while plopping yourself down between his legs, so you aren't putting any weight on him but you can still cuddle into his chest.

"you know that's not what i mean. you're just so cold towards me in public and now you're suddenly being so affectionate. it's weird."

with his amber gaze locked on you, his arms carefully wind around your figure to pull you close to him, his thumb caressing your shoulder. "you're weird." he mumbles as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against your forehead.

for a boy so lean, he held a surprisingly strong and protective grasp on you. and you loved cuddling with him because he was just so warm; you're not sure how he exuded so much bodyheat. yet he smelled fresh too; very citrusy, like lemon and cucumber.

you must've got lost in your own thoughts, and you realise this when tsukishima snaps, "are you sniffing me? werido.." he squishes your cheeks in his hand and pulls you away from his chest so he can look you in the eyes. he tries to keep a disgusted look on his face for dramatic effect but you can see clearly the smile creeping onto his lips. as he's so amused at how cute you look in his hand.

"you smell nice! what cologne are you wearing?" you ask defensively, though your words are all scrambled by tsukishima squishing your cheeks together.

he relaxed his grip so you can lay back down on his chest, and he says, "it's not cologne, it's aftershave." he corrects, cradling your head in his arms and running his fingers through your hair.

you only groan at his smartass response, which causes him to chuckle.

for @jomteaaa: omggg this was so fun to write, i always love writing for tsukki 😍😛 and i was inspired to write tsundere for you two bc you said your love language is physical touch and although i can't imagine he'd be big on that in front his peers, he'd defo be a cuddle bug with you private 🤭 hope you likeee!!

[ineffectualdemon]

The more deep I fall into SVSSS the more any sort of animosity between Cucumber Qingqiu and Yue Qingyuan or Yue Qingyuan ignoring boundaries in fics makes me twitch

Cucumber Qingqiu sees Yue Qingyuan as an older brother figure and is very fond of him

He is not creeped out by him or avoids him or whatever

And Yue Qingyuan is fully supportive of any Shen Qingqiu even if he finds Cucumber Qingqiu puzzling in some ways and soul destroying in others

(it's great that Shen Qingqiu seems more at peace but heart wrenching that he doesn't remember their past)

And like yes Yue Qingyuan struggles to know the correct distance to keep with Shen Jiu but that's because Shen Jiu clings to him as much as he pushes him away. They both struggle with knowing where the boundaries are because what they want and what their secrets are demanding are two different things

But Cucumber Qingqiu is fond and pleasant and friendly but also doesn't have any of the connection that drove the intense relationship between Shen Jiu and Yue Qingyuan

And because he clearly doesn't remember him or their past or their connection he maintains a careful distance of caring older brother figure and nothing more

Because thats what makes this Shen Qingqiu happy

So stop making them at odds!

Stop making Yue Qingyuan out to be this awful creepy abusive person!

[sitkowski]

show me where the delicate stops - jolly x ofc

pairing: jolly karlsson x reece (ofc)

cw: ⚠️ 18+MDNI. warnings for kinda douchebag!Jolly, hate sex, some violence, derogatory language, choking, protected vaginal sex, dacryphilia, no happy ending

word count: 5.7k

author's note: second bad omens fic in the bag! this time around, here's some jolly smut. title from "jaws" by sleep token. 🫶🏻 dividers by @saradika-graphics

⇉ masterlist | taglist signups

If anyone asked her, Reece would say it would take an act of God to willingly put herself in a room under normal circumstances with someone she actively dislikes. But as it stands, she’s apparently a saint, and when her sister asks if her house could be the location of her boyfriend’s surprise birthday party, she caves. She even offers to cook, she likes Nick that much. The majority of his friends are okay in Reece’s eyes, she’s happy to host a party for him. 

But being in a room with her sister, Nick and his friends, means putting herself in a room with the bane of her existence. 

To say that she and Jolly are mortal enemies might be a stretch, but it doesn’t seem as if they’ve ever had a positive interaction. He’s not even a bad person, despite Reece’s brain telling her that he’s the fucking devil. But each encounter leaves the two of them either yelling at each other or glaring at one another across the room. Eventually, she stopped participating in group things if she knew he was going to be there.

So her sister sending Jolly of all people to help set up for the party makes Reece question whether or not she suddenly wants to be an only child again.

She opens her front door a few hours before the party is set to behind to find him hauling two folding tables from the back of his SUV. Leaning out of the doorway with her hands on her hips, she waits impatiently for him to reach her porch, one under each arm.

“No, it’s fine, I didn’t need help or anything.” he mutters, climbing the stairs.

“I have food on the stove. Just take them through the sliding door,” she instructs, pointing. “Or you should have just gone through the side gate.”

He looks five seconds away from a temper tantrum, standing there with the tables at his feet. His sunglasses have slid down his nose, and she knows he’s glaring at her as she turns and walks back through the kitchen without another word. She doesn’t care. If he wants to be the one to show up and set things up, she’s not going to make it easier on him. Reece doesn’t know what her sister was thinking, and she sends her an angry text while she’s stirring the noodles for the pasta salad on the stove. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Jolly carrying the tables outside.

There's not even that much left to be done beyond finishing the food, adding in the tables for the food, and rearranging a bit of the furniture to make room for the guests. From what her sister tells her, Jolly’s supposed to have the stuff for the firepit and the grill with him too. She leaves him to it, turns off the burner to drain and rinse the pasta. And for a little while, she forgets that he’s even there, beyond the muted clatter of things out on the back porch.

But she’s in the middle of slicing cucumbers when a hand appears in her line of vision and plucks a piece from her cutting board. It startles her, and knife in hand, she whirls around angrily. Jolly only has seconds to grab her wrist before the knife makes contact. 

The curse that he unleashes on her isn’t even in the English language, but then his eyes widen further when he realizes how close the blade was to his face. “Are you out of your fucking mind?!”

“Don’t fucking creep up on me!” She yanks her wrist out of his grasp and tosses the knife on the counter. “What manners were you raised with that you touch stuff you shouldn’t?”

He rolls his eyes at her. “It’s a cucumber, Reece. You want it back?”

Her face twists in disgust and she turns her attention to the counter. She expects him to say something, not just stand there and stare at her. Finally, she cracks, looking back at him with exasperation. “What?”

“Lighter. Fluid.” he mutters through gritted teeth.

Reece skirts around him, going over to the cabinet by the back door. She opens it and pulls out the bottle, before turning around and holding it out to him. “Was this all you needed or are you gonna try and take more food before it’s time?”

“Depends if you’re gonna continue to be an irrational bitch and try to stab me,” he mutters, snatching the bottle. “What the fuck is your problem today? You didn’t have to agree to host this if you didn’t want to—”

“I have no problem doing this party for my sister, I adore Nick. I like all of their friends. Well…almost all of them.”

She sees his jaw clench and he looks as if he wants to either throttle her or start cussing at her again. Her eyes briefly flick to the knife on the counter again even though she knows she won’t need it. Because he’s already turning around and slamming his way out the sliding glass door again. Reece blows out a breath and rakes her hands through her hair before turning back to the counter.

His arrogance of believing that today was her only problem with him bugged the hell out of her, but she worked very hard to ignore it because she didn’t want to mess things up for Nick’s party. She’s willing to let it go. Soon, the food is just about done with the exception of the stuff for the grill. She knows that means taking the meat out to Jolly, where he’s brooding on her back porch. Thankfully, she’s saved by Davis and Stephen showing up with the booze and bags of ice. Reece lets them deal with him while she sorts out the coolers that need to be brought outside.

Even with the door closed, she can hear the muffled remnants of Jolly complaining to his friends about her, but she puts on her best hostess smile and raps on the glass, pointing down to the coolers at her feet, before opening the door.

“What’s up, Stabby?” Davis greets her teasingly.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask the drama queen over there? Anything more you wanna gossip about?”

“Okay!” Gently pushing her back into the house before she can say anything else that might ruin the day, Davis passes the coolers outside and then pushes the door partially shut. Apparently, he wants to chat. “What the fuck, Reece?”

“Me? I’m not the one who—”

“Time out, seriously, you guys need to stow the overaggressive sexual tension for today. It’s about Folio and not―”

Reece’s eyes nearly bug out of her head and she actually feels her face go hot, like a buzzing beneath her skin. “The overaggressive what?”

Davis winces with how high pitched her voice goes, and if she weren’t so baffled, she might have been embarrassed. His expression tells her he’s trying not to laugh at her, and he puts his hands up in self defense.

“Nevermind. Just…white flag on the play, or whatever. You two need to shake on it. Put on your get along shirt—”

“If you continue, I might actually start stabbing people,” her eyes drift past him to outside, where Jolly and Stephen are pretending as if they can’t hear what’s being said. The door isn’t closed all the way, and it’s obvious what’s being said. Jolly looks less than thrilled. “I think Nicholas and Noah are gonna be here in like…twenty minutes? I’m going to go shower so I don’t commit a violent homicide. Can you handle things?”

Reece doesn’t wait for an answer, choosing to make her escape upstairs as fast as she can without actually running.

The how and the why isn’t even important for Reece anymore, she just doesn’t like him. The two of them can barely be in the same room without one of them saying something nasty. The only reason she’s even putting up with this tonight is for her sister, and for Nick. That’s what she tells herself while she’s pulling clothes from her closet after her shower. She goes through all of her mundane tasks of getting ready, wandering between her bathroom and bedroom. The dress she plans to wear is draped over the end of her bed, so when her bedroom door opens and closes, she lets out a surprised yelp at the fact that Jolly is in her bedroom and she’s just standing there in her underwear.

“What the fuck?” she grabs her robe, pulling it on quickly and holding it closed. “Get out!”

“No, we need to come to some kind of truce before this thing even starts or else one of us is going to ruin this for Folio.”

She stares at him as if he’s grown a second head on his shoulders, and for a minute she wonders if she started screaming if that would be what ruins the night. “One of us? You mean me, right? Because I’m an irrational bitch with a knife?”

“Would it make you feel better if I said I was sorry?” he asks, not sounding sorry in the least.

“Yeah, because when have you ever apologized for anything you’ve ever done to me before? Can you get out please? I’ll happily avoid you all night and we don’t have to speak about any of this again.”

Jolly starts to leave but stops and turns around. “What the hell does that mean? Did I sleep with one of your friends or something?”

Reece narrows her eyes at him, because the how and why isn’t important but if he wants to get into this now, then she will. The fact that he seemingly knows what he did just pisses her off a little more, but she tries to stay calm.

“Three of them, Joakim. You slept with three of my friends. You also drunkenly told me I was not your type. So for my sanity, and your safety, get the fuck out of my room.”

“You don’t control my dick, Reece!”

“Somebody should!”

It’s the wrong thing to say, and she realizes it too late. Jolly smirks at her. “Is this that overaggressive sexual tension that Davis was talking about ? Is that what this is, you’re jealous?”

She wants to tell him that he’s not god’s gift to guitars or women, something scathing that might bruise that overinflated ego of his. Because she isn’t jealous. If anything, she pities her friends who expected that morning after call and never got it. Nothing more than one night stands. Reece tells herself that she refuses to be another notch in his belt or bedpost or wherever annoying Swedish men keep track of their conquests. 

“I don’t know how many times someone has to tell you no before you get the hint.” Her fists clench at her sides. “Go. Or I’ll make you.”

His eyes rove over her body, and she realizes belatedly that she’s let go of the front of her robe. She grits her teeth and meets his gaze head on, because he’s the one invading her space right now and she’s had enough of it.

Jolly steps closer to her, and Reece doesn’t move. It’s not that she’s afraid of him, it’s that he infuriates her. And he knows it, judging by the way his head tilts down and his smile widens. “You wanna hit me? Come on, I’ll let you.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I piss you off so much, hit me. I’ll give you one.”

She doesn’t think he’s serious at first, but he keeps standing there, watching her expectantly. She realizes that he really wants her to hit him. It’s a terrible idea, they’re supposed to be pretending to get along. Everyone is going to arrive soon, and she still has things to do. But he’s still waiting and the longer he stands there, the more she actually wants to hit him. It won’t solve anything, but it’ll make her feel better.

“C’mon, I said hit me, woman—”

Her hand connecting with his cheek is loud in her room, and a little satisfying if she’s being honest with herself. The slap isn’t hard enough to do any damage at all, he doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. For some reason, Reece hits him again, harder this time. His head rocks to the side, and this time, his reaction is instantaneous; he grabs her by her jaw and pushes her up against the nearest wall. Her hip connects with the edge of her desk painfully.

“I said once,” he says. “Don’t be greedy.”

She knows that she should bat his hand away, shove him out of her space. Maybe even yell at him some more. But she just stands there, back pressed to the drywall. He’s close enough to her now that she can feel his chest pressed to hers. Her mind goes deceptively fuzzy and she feels a twinge low in her stomach that makes her a little angry at herself. His eyes meet hers as his fingers dig into her cheeks at the same time he presses a thigh between hers.

“You’re weak, Reece,” he murmurs, and she feels the burn of tears in the back of her throat. “Aren’t you?”

Her hand wraps around his wrist and she yanks, trying to make him let her go. He doesn’t, not until her bedroom door opens and then he steps back, removing himself from her space and allowing her to breathe. She tries not to choke on a sob when she looks over his shoulder and sees Nicholas standing there.

“Matt needs you on the grill.” he says. His eyes bouncing back and forth between the two of them. Reece holds her robe closed guiltily, as if she were caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

Jolly doesn’t spare her another glance as he turns and leaves her bedroom, slipping past Nicholas with a little salute. 

Reece finally moves, shrugging out of her robe and pulling her dress over her head. She can feel Nicholas’ eyes on her the entire time, but she knows it’s more out of concern than whatever the hell Jolly was doing. When she looks back, he’s still leaning in the doorway, a suspicious look on his face.

“So…”

“Don’t ask.”

But it looks like you were—”

“I would sooner die than sleep with him, Nick.”

“Your mouth says no, but your tits in that dress says you’re thinking one time couldn’t hurt.”

Her face still hurts from where Jolly grabbed her, and not in an entirely unpleasant way. She touches the tender areas as she sits down to put on her boots. “I picked out the dress before he came in.”

Nicholas doesn’t seem convinced, and she guesses that would make sense for anyone who walked in on what he did. If anything, it looked more like they were flirting than fighting. But she doesn’t try to explain herself. Instead, she stands up and smooths down her skirt, before shooing him out of her doorway. When they make their way back into the kitchen, more people have gathered. Out on the back porch, she sees Jolly and Matt messing with the grill.

He’s not looking directly at her, but from where he’s standing, it’s impossible to miss the red marks on his cheek. If she were to look close enough, her handprint might even be there. The amount of satisfaction she felt had already passed. Instead, she feels frustrated and more than a little angry. Somehow, what he said to her has gotten under her skin more than she cares to admit. He called her weak. And right now, she can’t help but feel like he might be right. 

The party goes off without any issues, and it’s the best distraction that Reece could have asked for. Nick has the best time, and that was more important than whatever mind games Jolly seemed to be playing with her. He ignored her practically the entire night, which was fine with her. It’s well after midnight by the time everyone leaves. Everyone pitched in to help clean up, all she had to do was load her dishwasher and find a place in her refrigerator for the leftovers that the guys didn’t take with them. Leaving the music on, she goes out onto the back porch to collect abandoned Solo cups that had been missed.

Just as she’s turning to go back through the sliding glass doors with the trash bag in hand, it opens. It doesn’t startle her as much as it could have to see Jolly standing there. She blinks at him in confusion and annoyance, and he points over her shoulder.

“Forgot the tables.” He explains.

Reece looks over at the two tables still in the corner of the porch where they’d put out the food and the drinks earlier in the night. Scoffing, she steps aside and lets him go past her. She thinks about going into the house and locking the sliding glass door behind her, making him go out through the side yard so she doesn’t have to see him. But she has to take the trash out, and she takes the bag off the porch outside. She’s kind of hoping that he’ll be gone by the time she comes back.

She’s not that lucky. He hasn’t even bothered taking down the tables, instead he’s sitting atop one. His legs swing back and forth idly as he sips a beer Reece is pretty sure just came from her refrigerator. Immediately, her brain goes on red alert because there’s no reason for him to still be here.

Her eyebrows raise. “Aren’t you supposed to leave with those?”

“Probably.”

“I’m fucking tired, Jolly, I don’t have time for this bullshit.”

He takes another swallow from the bottle, casual as if he doesn’t have anywhere else he should be. Reece grits her teeth and starts to head for the sliding glass door. She fully intends to lock him out now, he can sleep on the porch for all she cares. But he speaks again before she can even step over the threshold.

“Like I said, weak.”

Reece whirls around to face him again, stomping over to him and yanking the bottle out of his hand, throwing it aside where it hits the floor with a less than satisfying smash. It doesn’t even matter that the scent of beer is going to linger out there for months. She’s tired of his bullshit.

“What makes me weak? The fact that I have a spine and I don’t fall at your fucking feet like everyone else? Didn’t you tell me I wasn’t your type? Clearly that was a lie, so why don’t you quit being a pussy and stop pulling my pigtails like we’re in middle school. Say what you mean.”

Jolly slides off the table, standing up straight and Reece tries to take a step backward. But his hand comes up to fist in the hair at the nape of her neck, and he pulls her against his chest. A startled protest falls from her mouth, cut off only when he pulls her head back until their eyes meet. Her neck twinges uncomfortably and she tries to pull away, but he won’t let her move.

“I think I’ll pull whatever part of you I want to.” He leans down until his nose brushes against her cheek. “And you’re gonna let me, aren’t you?”

“No.” The word falls from her mouth almost automatically and he leans back to blink at her. She feels a brief sense of relief when his grip on her hair starts to loosen minutely. “I’m not going to let you do anything, Joakim. Why don’t you ask me for it?”

His eyes narrow, and at first she thinks that he isn’t just going to let her go. She doesn’t think he’ll hurt her, but it’s become his sole mission to fight her every chance he can get. He releases her after a few more moments of staring at her, and his mouth curves upward.

“Okay, Reece. Show me that spine of yours.”

Planting both of her hands in the middle of his chest, Reece gives him a hard shove backwards. He collides with the table, which screeches across the floor noisily for a few inches before smacking against the wall. He doesn’t seem bothered by this at all, just catching himself against the table and laughing. She knows he doesn’t really find her intimidating at all, and for some reason that turns her on more than it should. She thinks about the look on his face when she smacked him in her room, how quickly he took control of her without even trying. She wonders if he’ll do it again. Her curiosity gets the best of her, and she swings on him.

Just as quickly as before, Jolly grabs onto her wrist, this time yanking her closer until she’s between his legs. He twists her arm behind her, and before she can do anything else he grasps her other wrist. He pins her wrists with one hand easily, and holds them against her lower back. The instinct to struggle is automatic, but he just tightens his grip on her, keeping her against his chest as his other hand grazes her thigh, beneath the hem of her skirt.

“You’re not even going to kiss me first?” she asks, trying not to let any disappointment show.

His hand continues its trek, nails scraping over her skin. “No. I’m not sure I wanna put anything near your mouth. You look like you bite.”

Her attempts to struggle only make the bones in her wrists grind together and she’s embarrassed of the noise that escapes her. His hand curves around her hip beneath her dress, pressing into possible bruises forming there from when she hit the desk earlier and she hisses out a whine, tears forming in her eyes.

“Are you crying already? I haven’t even done anything to you yet.” His words mean nothing to her as his hand dips just beneath the waistband of her underwear, his thumb running over the fabric between her legs that is growing more and more damp with each pass of the digit.  

She doesn’t need him to say anything for her to know how wet she is. She tries to rise up on her tiptoes in her boots, get him to move his fingers farther down but he’s just touching the skin of her lower stomach, and staring at her. Waiting for her to break. She wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted her to beg him for this, but she doesn’t want to give that to him.

 He’s right though, he hasn’t even done anything to her yet. But it’s coming, and he gives her a cruel smile. “Might wanna hold onto those tears, though.”

Reece can’t find her voice to ask what he means by that, and she doesn’t get the chance. He lets go of her wrists abruptly, and she stumbles back a step, nearly tripping over her own boots. Before she can open her mouth, he’s finally kissing her. For someone who said he wasn’t going to, he’s really good at it. Even that’s a fight, one that she desperately tries to win. The second she gets the chance, she sinks her teeth into his bottom lip. It doesn’t deter him at all, if anything it just gives him more power over her. His hands grab onto her hips, her ass, anywhere he can. She feels the cool night air against the back of her thighs when her dress rides up as he wraps his hands around them and lifts her off of her feet.

She thinks that he’s going to take her into the house, and she’s all for that, but instead he turns and all but drops her on top of the table where he’d just been. His mouth trails down over her shoulder, and the feel of his facial hair against her skin makes her gasp and arch into him. Jolly’s hands start pulling the straps of her dress down off her shoulders, leaving it bunched around her waist as his fingers go to the strap of her bra next while he worries a hickey into her neck that she’ll be pissed about in the morning.

“Wait!” she protests a little, pushing on his chest to get his attention.

He lets out an aggravated sigh but lifts his head to look at her. “Do you want me to stop?”

It’s oddly thoughtful of him to ask, and him stopping is the furthest thing from her mind right now. She shakes her head, letting him kiss her again. It’s gentler than before, unexpected, but after a few moments it grows more heated. Yet something still nags in the back of her head and she pushes at him again.

“What, woman, what?” his voice rises a little, and Reece is glad that she doesn’t have neighbors that close by. “If I’m doing something you don’t like, or whatever, you need to use your words with me. I’m not here to hurt you, as much of a pain in the ass you are.”

Swinging her feet back and forth the same way he had been earlier, she tilts her head and gives him a deceptively innocent look. “I was only going to ask if you have a condom, Joakim. I’m not doing this without one.”

“You are the most insufferable human I have ever met in my life.” he says, even as he manages to get the condom from his wallet

The words come out a lot softer than they should have, almost fond, and Reece feels the burn of tears in the back of her throat again. She doesn’t want him to be nice to her, she isn’t in this for anything other than sex. Sitting forward, she starts to pull impatiently at his belt. She doesn’t look at him, not until his hands ball in her hair and he tilts her head back, and he makes her. She’s almost relieved to see nothing in his eyes but darkness and need, a little bit of a challenge.

“Go on,” Jolly encourages, and his smile turns condescending because he knows that she’s trying not to waver, trying not to make this more than what it is. “Finish what you started.”

Reece rolls her eyes at him, and makes quick work of the button and zipper on his jeans. He shoves them down out of the way just enough and she makes an appreciative noise as she wraps her hand around his cock as best she can, feeling a small amount of victory as a strangled groan escapes him as she rubs her thumb over the tip. Maybe if she didn’t hate him, she’d be interested in seeing how he’d feel in her mouth. She snatches the condom package from his hand, tearing it open and rolling the latex down over the length of him.

Planting a hand in the middle of her chest, Jolly pushes her back on the table, and she decides to only be partially helpful, pulling her skirt up her thighs. She thinks that he’s going to take her underwear off but he doesn’t, instead hooking his fingers beneath the soaked fabric and pulling it to the side. Reece starts to reach down and push them off herself, but he bats her hand away.

“No, I want you like this.” he mutters.

She feels her skin going hot, more because of the way he’s staring down at her than his actual words. She squirms a little as he slides his cock between her folds, teasing her slowly to the point where her face feels as if it’s on fire and she can hear her heart pounding loudly. Reece isn’t going to beg. She tells herself that over and over, and with every pass he makes over her clit without sinking inside of her, her resolve starts to crumble. The word is on the tip of her tongue, but then he finally slides in.

Her back bows off the table as her body tries to accommodate him. He doesn’t stop until their bodies are flush and then she’s slapping his shoulder, trying to relax into the overwhelming fullness she feels. “Stay! Don’t fucking move, give me a minute.”

Jolly grits his teeth but he doesn’t move, not yet. Instead he leans over her, sinking his teeth into the curve of her breast right above the edge of her bra. She cries out hoarsely, fisting his hair in her hand and pulling hard. She can feel his teeth in her skin and the initial sting of the bite brings tears back to her eyes. He pulls back enough to pull down one of the cups of her bra just enough to get his mouth on her nipple. His teeth are much gentler this time, but he still bites. Her fingers in his hair tug again, just to keep him closer.

“Okay,” she breathes out, nodding her head and pulling his mouth up to hers, “I’m good.”

He takes her at her word, leaning back and pulling almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward sharply. Her hands slap against the table as she tries to keep stability. He moves in long deep strokes, causing Reece's eyes to roll back in her head. It goes on and on until she thinks she'd lose her mind. She wants him to go harder, faster, but she ground her teeth together, refusing to beg.

“You know, you say you hate me, but your pussy seems to like me just fine.”

“Oh my God,” she moans, head knocking back against the table. “Do not say shit like that.”

The edge of her underwear digs into the crease of her leg uncomfortably, making her wince despite the electricity coursing beneath her skin. Not only is Jolly an asshole, but he's also apparently a mind reader. He pulls out of her, yanking them down and leaving them tangled around one of her boots, before he's pulling her from the table and spinning her around. His hand presses into her shoulder, bending her over. She chokes on a whine as he thrusts back into her, and the groan he lets out reverberates through her entire body.

“Better?” he asks in her ear, hips snapping forward roughly. 

This angle lets him go deeper and Reece can't do anything but nod gratefully. One of his hands grabs onto the curve of her hip, biting into her skin and the other curls loosely around her throat. His fingers flex, just a little, and she pushes into his hold.

“You can, Joakim, please—” she loses her resolve and she doesn't need to see his face to know that he knows he's won. She feels it “Please—fuck—”

His fingers tighten just enough that her next pull of air is a struggle, and her mind goes blissfully blank. She’s aware of the table tilting at an alarming angle each time it rocks towards the wall, and her own hoarse cries that manage to escape around his hold on her. When his fingers loosen enough to allow her more oxygen, her breath comes in harsh, desperate pants. Tears run freely down her face and one of Reece’s hands fly back to grab onto the fabric of his shirt. Trying to get him closer as if that were physically possible.

Reece squeezes her eyes shut, overwhelmed and already teetering on the edge of orgasm. She’s not quite there yet, and to make it worse, Jolly slows down, hips rolling into hers in a maddening languid pace. She tries to rock back into him, but his hold on her is tight, she isn’t going anywhere unless he wants her to.

“I hate you,” she chokes out, even as she clenches around him. “I hate you so much.”

“ I know you do, precious,” he digs his fingers into her flesh again, forcing another gurgled moan from her throat. He curls himself over her, nose brushing against her cheek. Her eyes roll up to meet his desperately, and she sees that same look on his face that she’d been seeing all night. He still thinks she’s weak. “I hate you just as much.”

She knows the moment that Jolly’s resolve has finally reached its limit, when his thrusts become harder and erratic, the strangled gasps of some mixture of cursing and praising hot against her ear. Reece clenches around him, reveling in the way it undoes him. A soft, broken sound is wrung from her chest as she comes, head knocked back into his shoulder. His fingers are once again gentle on her throat, rubbing over the skin as if to sooth his touch away.

 He doesn't stop when she comes, he even moves faster as the orgasm rocks through her. He brings his hand down to her clit, and his touch is rough enough to send her over the edge again, leaving her shaking beneath him. 

"Fuck, woman," he mutters through gritted teeth. 

He jerks his hips into her and his control snaps. He braces himself against her with one hand and rides out his own orgasm with slow, easy thrusts and sharp, desperate gasps. Finally, he goes still and Reece yanks his hand from between her legs before she collapses against the table.

The next few minutes feel like a blur as they clean up, refusing to make eye contact with one another. The tension in the air is thick, awkward in a way that seems worse than before. But Reece doesn’t ask him to stay. There will be no spooning throughout the night, no sharing coffee in the morning. She lets him take his tables and he leaves without much more than a wave as he puts them in the back of his truck. She watches from the front porch, and once he’s gone, she goes inside and locks the doors.

It’s not until she’s falling into her bed after her shower that she realizes her underwear are still out on the back porch.

⇉ taglist:

@malice-ov-mercy @ladyveronikawrites @circle-with-me @baddestomens @dominuslunae

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[gay-opossum-in-the-garbage]

DoeBall

————————————

Summary: You don’t recognize Doe in his true form at first

Warning(s): Mentions of obsessive behaviors, not proof read

Pairing: GN Reader X John Doe/Can also be read as You X John Doe

Perspective: 2nd person past tense

————————————

You had been cleaning for god knows how long. You wished that you could just lay in bed all day with your day off, but with how dirty your love was and how small the apartment was, it was a necessary evil.

Speaking of your love, he had been gone for a while now.

He was constantly wracked with anxiety when you left the house to buy groceries without him because of how dangerous the Valley was (and his general clinginess) so he insisted on doing the grocery run while you cleaned the apartment.

And you were perfectly fine with that, sure you loved him but his obsessiveness got a bit tiring at times. It was nice to spend a little time alone.

But it was a tad bit odd that he had been gone for so long. You checked the digital clock on the counter.

6:64 pm

He had left 3 hours ago. Usually he only took around an hour to do groceries since he only needed to visit one general store. That combined with the fact it was raining heavily outside made your stomach twist just a bit. You sighed and decided to focus on cleaning for now.

He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

No matter how many times you swept there was just more and more dust. You made another dust pile and sat on one knee, struggling to sweep the dust into the dust pan with the strange angle. Trying to maneuver the broom with just one hand was straining your wrist.

You sat there for what felt like 30 minutes just sweeping up the little lines that the pile made. You had finally whittled it down to one little line, and you finally breathed a sigh of relief as you swept it into the dustpan. You stood up and looked down at the floor.

There was still another line of dust.

You breathed a long frustrated sigh and slapped the dustpan on the kitchen island. You were going to put the broom away when you heard something from the living room.

*CRASH*

You jumped and tightly gripped the broom, eyes wide staring at the closed door separating the kitchen and living room.

You silently listened for any other sound, staying stone still.

You breathed in and out deeply and consistently, slowly creeping towards the oak door. You gripped the cold door handle, the cold contrasting your sweaty palms.

You breathed in and flung the door open charging head first into your small living room.

You let go of your breath and felt your shoulder relax a bit as your stared confused at the scene in front of you.

A big 2 foot ball of wet, black, curly hair with a big, yellow eyeball in its center was standing (well it didn’t really have legs, sitting?) in the middle of the room. It simply stared at you, looking shell-shocked.

It suddenly pounced at you at lightning speed. You let out a quick but loud yelp and smacked the broom down in front of you, missing the hairball by just a few inches.

“Get! Get back!” You said assertively as you threatened the creature with the red handled broom. It whimpered like a dog and jumped away like a cat being scared by a cucumber.

You pushed it back towards the door and cornered it against the couch.

With your newfound control over the situation you finally fully relaxed and actually looked at the thing. The more you looked at it, the more it looked… familiar.

“Doe!?” You dropped your broom and found your hands on the sides of your head, holding your hair, “what the hell happened!?”

You reached down and scooped up the big ball of hair, which you now knew was your lover, and held him at eye level while you spoke.

He had talked about his “true form” but you had never actually seen it before.

You had no idea his hair was his actual form.

He swung his tendril-like strands of hair around like arms, making chirps and other animalistic noises like he was trying to explain something to you.

You cocked your head to the side. He stopped suddenly and wrapped himself around your right arm, small whines coming from him.

You sighed and petted him while you grabbed a soft towel from the kitchen. You put the towel on his back and flipped him onto the towel like you were getting a cake out of a pan.

You fully wrapped him in the towel, making sure to leave his eyeball exposed. You held him close to your chest, the warmth of your body cutting through the cold of his wet one.

You sat down on your soft couch, him purring softly in your arms. He wrapped some tendrils around your neck, pulling you closer and purring even louder.

It was nice just cuddling like this, but you felt awful for attacking him and extremely confused why he hadn’t shapeshifted back yet.

“Hey baby?”

The little hairball look up at you, a little heart replacing his pupil. Well at least you knew he wasn’t mad at you.

“I’m sorry for threatening you, I thought you were some feral cat that broke in or something,” he let out a strange little noise that resembled a laugh, you smiled and continued, “and I love cuddling you like this, but why haven’t you shapeshifted back yet?”

He looked at you for a couple of seconds, pupil back to normal. He jumped out of your arms and and started walking towards the door of your shared bedroom, scratching at it like a cat.

You sat up and let him in, where he immediately started rummaging through his drawer. You shared a dresser, the top two being yours and the bottom being his.

He rummaged through the drawer for a few seconds before pulling out a mason jar with teeth and clothing scraps. He shook it, the contents shaking around. You looked into the drawer to see similar containers, with some being filled with…well you didn’t want to know. You swore one blinked at you.

“And you showed me this…why?” You questioned.

He untwisted the jar and started eating the contents right in front of you. A mouth that reminded you of a leech’s opened at the base of his eyeball and a long snake-like tongue wrapped around the contents in the jar.

You knew he ate teeth and you found some bite marks in your old clothes, but seeing him do it right in front of you and in this fashion was, well disturbing to say the least.

Finally he was done with his feast and shooed for you to the leave the room. After what you just saw you were perfectly fine with that. You closed the door, but pressed your face against the door.

There were strange fleshy noises for a couple of seconds. He opened the door, causing you to fall into his arms. He giggled and patted you on the head.

You looked up at him with a smile and cupped his face in your hands and warmly kissed him.

You pulled away and put a hand in his lips so he wouldn’t go in for another kiss.

“Okay, explain”

“I need materials for my faux body before I can fully shapeshift back. That’s what my snacks are for”

He giggled a little near the end with a big goofy smile on his face.

“And about the groceries?”

“It started raining, my fake body can’t handle water. I lost them darling, I’m sorry”

He nuzzled into your neck and you could feel him frown.

“That’s okay hun, we can just order some”

You could feel him start to smile softly after that.

“Oh, and I forgive you my love~”

He talked into your neck, softly purring and pulling you closer.

“You sure forgive quickly honey”

“How could I not!? You’re the love of my life! I love love love you! I could never be mad~”

You still felt a bit bad, but for now you just held him close, loving the warmth of his body. You stroked your fingers though his still slightly damp hair and kissed him on the neck softly.

He grabbed you by the small of your back and lifted you up, swinging you around and holding you bridal style, lovingly kissing you on the neck. He closed the door of your bedroom behind him and plopped you on the bed.

He wrapped a soft blanket around the both of you and held you tight to his chest, stroking you on the back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and put your head under his.

You knew you still had to clean, the house was still quite dirty.

But.

This was more important.

————————————

[forsakensnakeskin]

Floral Devil Lore

Source: The Complete Language of Flowers by S. Theresa Dietz

Do your own research on the toxicity of these plants before using them in any capacity.

Aletris farinosa: Devil's Bit

Artemisia absinthium: There is a legend that Artemisia absinthium marked the path that Satan took on his exit from the Garden of Eden.

Atropa belladonna: Devil's Berries, Devil's Cherries

*Cardamine: is supposedly an ingredient in the “Nine Herbs Charm” of tenth century England that was intended to be used in battle to fend off the perceived power used against them by the Serpent. (Given the Christian influence on the poem, the Serpent may or may not reference the Devil.)

Centranthus ruber: Devil's Beard

Chelidonium: Devil's Milk

Chiranthodendron pentadactylon: Devil's Hand Tree

Conium: Devil's Porridge

Cuscuta: Devil's Guys, Devil's Hair, Devil's Ringlet

Cylindropuntia imbricata: Devil's Rope Cactus, Devil's Rope Pear

Datura: Devil's Apple, Devil's Cucumber, Devil's Trumpet, Devil's Weed, Hell’s Bells

Daucus carota: Devil's-plague

Epipremnum aureum: Devil's Ivy

Ferula assa-foetida: Devil's Dung; symbolism chase away the devil

Hyoscyamus niger: Devil's Eye

Hypericum perforatum: Chase Devil, Scare Devil

Mandragora: A person who received one for free would never be free, for the person would be in the grip of the Devil.

Nigella damascena: Devil in the Bush

Nolina lindheimeriana: Devil's Shoestring

Ocimum basilicum: The Devil's Plant

Oxalis tetraphylla: charm against the Devil

Petroselinum crispum: Devil's Oatmeal

Podophyllum peltatum: Devil's Apple

Pteridophyta: Devil's Brushes

Rauvolfia tetraphylla: Devil Pepper

Sambucus nigra: The English believe that burning its logs will bring the Devil into the house.

Sansevieria: Devil's Tongue

Secale cereale: Dealings with the Devil, Devilry

Stenocereus eruca: Creeping Devil

Succisa pratensis: Devil's Bit, Devil's Bit Scabious; In folk tales, the short black roots of this plant are the result of the Devil biting off the roots in anger after hearing a rumor that the plant may have had curative powers against the Bubonic Plague.

Verbena officinalis: Devil's Bane

Vinca minor: Devil's Eye