#phi colors

[kaqzu]

This time… I hope for you these will be flowers of hope that never die.

[cartyrs]

redraw of a Phi from 2017

[phisans]

Thank you @/glowstiix for the cool wire-y brushes u.u

anyway heres my very first drawing of DCA Moon like...ever? xD

[juergenklopp]

3 for 4, 3 HR (2 solo, grand slam), 6 RBI

BRYCE HARPER caps off a three-home run game with a grand slam in the bottom of the seventh inning to help the Philadelphia Phillies win 9–4 against the Cincinnati Reds, with the second home run of the game being his 1000th career run scored (April 2, 2024)

[respectthepetty]

pink = 💕love💕

[littleragondin]

"This case seems to be relating to Phi Ta Khon..."

[downfalldestiny]

Chasing the golden hues of Koh Phi Phi's sunsets 🌅 !.

[kaqzu]

Since I don't like to wait or make people wait… I'll end this quickly.

[epiphanypaige]

going to try and color this tomorrow....

[churchydragon]

looks at you like this

[localthumbcache]

THIS IS ACTUALLY VERY VERY LIVPHELIA... OLIV (pronounced oh-liv)

[kayzero]

i was going through some old art and i found some redesign concepts i drew while reading zero win game!! i dont think i ever posted them anywhere, but i hope you enjoy them nonetheless ^^

well this is just fucking cool

[juergenklopp]

Reigning National League Gold Glove catcher JT REALMUTO makes an unbelievable underhand diving toss to first base, retiring Nick Madrigal for the second out of the bottom of the 9th inning vs the Chicago Cubs (June 29, 2023)

[great-photography-attributed]

PhiPhi_C1 By alejandrosalazar90 https://flic.kr/p/2qGAPJM

[kaqzu]

But him, he's unkillable... that's why our partnership works

[honeyroots]

— keep it on the down low, ft. DEAN WINCHESTER

☆ SYNOPSIS: You're Sam’s best friend, but Dean just can’t keep his hands off of you.

☆ WORD COUNT: 1.6k ☆ WARNINGS: NSFW (18+) / fem!reader / p in v / mentions of alcohol / reader is sam’s best friend / college au / frat!dean / praise (f receiving) / lowkey sam is pining for reader / reader and dean are sneaking around ☆ PAIRING: stanford!dean x reader

“You have to bounce the ball on the table and then make it into one of the solo cups,” DEAN WINCHESTER was laying the rules of beer-pong out flat. As a champion in his frat house, he was serious about playing doubles and determined to drill the rules into you prior to the start of the game. 

Your first day at Stanford, you met Sam Winchester in an introduction to psychology class. He somehow forgot a pen and leaned over toward you, cheeks red as he asked to borrow any sort of writing utensil. Naturally, a friendship formed between you and Sam, and the first time you met his older brother Dean, who was the president of Alpha Delta Phi (apparently Dean rushing the frat it started as a joke), your mouth watered and your knees went a little weak. He was too perfect, his jawline sharp, lips full, and eyes the prettiest color of green. The worst part? He knew he was beautiful, always weaponizing his pretty privilege to his advantage, and you hated to say that it worked on you.

Dean was directly behind you, one hand pressed against your waist as you aimed for the red solo cup. It was merely practice, training you up for some end-of-the-year frat party that was coming up. His chin rested on your shoulder as you threw one of the ping-pong balls toward the red solo cups positioned at the other end of the table.

Whenever Dean got too close, Sam would huff and puff, telling Dean to get his grubby hands off of his best friend. But today Sam wasn’t here, it was just you and Dean, in an empty frat house. When he texted you this morning to come over, you blinked a few times thinking maybe you were still in the middle of a dream, but when reality set in and you realized you were reading his message correctly, you nearly ran to his house.

The ball bounced off the rim of the cup, falling to the floor, the bounces echoing off the walls as you sighed in defeat. There was something about the alignment of the cups that was throwing you off.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it,” Dean encouraged, pulling one of the balls from the pile in his right and shoving it into the palm of your hand. His chin was still nestled on your shoulder, eyes fixated on the flex of your hand as you released the next ball from the tips of your fingers. The ball landed in the front cup, earning a large smile from you.

“I did it!” You cheered, turning around to face Dean. Chests pressed together, your bodies were so close, you could be considered one entity. Dean dropped the ping pong balls, curving one of his fingers into your belt loop and pulling your lower half closer to him. As the rest of your body collided with his, you felt the halfie he was sporting against you.

With his other hand, not paying any mind to the ping pong balls bouncing awry, he grasped your chin. The room felt like it was spinning, your mind in a daze as Dean dipped his face forward. With his lips so close, they were grazing against yours as he spoke, “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

His lips were on yours in a matter of moments— gentle at first, with soft nips from his teeth tugging at your bottom lip. His hand found its way to the small of your back, fingers toying with the hem as he lifted just enough of the fabric for his calloused hands to run against the bare skin of your back.

“Fuck, tastes so good,” he hummed against your lips, jutting his tongue out to lick a stripe along the roof of your mouth. The way your lips moved together, tongues crashing against one another was natural like two puzzle pieces fitting together. “I’ve got a real sweet tooth, did you know that?”

The whole thing was a blur. How you ended up in his bedroom, and how you ended up in between his sheets, you weren’t really sure. The feel of his hands on your body, his lips against your skin created a mind fog like no other. It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about Dean Winchester. Like you hadn’t thought about the lines of his face and the calluses on his fingers in depth, or how they might feel against you.

Dean peeled the comforter back, his mouth still on yours as he pushed you against the bed. Completely clothed, he fell on top of you, wrapping his arms over your head as his mouth pressed chaste kisses against the corner of your mouth, then down your neck until he reached the collar of your shirt. The way Dean laid into you was like he would never be able to have you again, exploring every inch of your skin as he peeled your clothes off was enough to have your skin heating.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, using one hand to reach behind and unclasp your bra; it was almost a red flag how quickly he unhooked the clasp. His lips ran down your chest, pressing kisses to (what felt like) every inch of your skin. With his teeth, he unzipped your pants, tugging your jeans off of your body at a slow speed. As soon as you were splayed across his bed, your body on full display for him, Dean stripped himself of his clothing. Rushed, like he couldn’t wait to be inside of you, he removed his shirt and jeans. Everything about him was so gorgeous, the dips in his abdomen, even the oddly shaped tattoo on his left pectoral was beautiful.

It didn’t take long for Dean to position himself in between your legs, his hand reaching down to toy with your clit. His middle finger connected with the sensitive bud, rubbing a few circles to prep you for what was to come. His face hovered above yours, eyes watching your facial expressions as he dragged his finger up and down your slit. He wanted to memorize the way your face contorted, to find the face you make when you’re experiencing the most pleasure so he could engrave the image into his mind and replay it for himself when he was alone.

“Just trying to warm you up, baby,” Dean spoke in a low voice, his eyes searching yours. Moving his fingers from your core, he brought them to his mouth to taste you. Humming in pleasure, Dean smiled against the tips of his fingers. Heat rushed through your body at the sight of him tasting you, collecting your slick like it was honey and running it against his tongue. “Tastes so sweet.”

“I’ve thought about this,” you admitted, small gasps pulling from the depths of your throat as Dean lined up the tip of his cock with your slit. Slowly, he pushed in, but not all the way, getting you used to the stretch of him. Your eyebrows furrowed, eyes screwing shut as you felt him enter, the stimulation of his fingers and the girth of him almost too stimulating.

“I know,” Dean breathed against you, his lips only inches away from yours. “I’ve thought about it too. I’m a slimy guy, huh? Thinking of my brother’s best friend. You’re just so pretty, like a doll.”

Dean pushed more of his shaft inside as he spoke, a soft groan coming from him as he felt the warmth of your core clench around him. Your body was responding to him in a way you didn’t expect, just the feeling of him bringing you to a place you had never experienced, and he wasn’t even rocking into you yet. When he began thrusting, the movements gentle against you, you couldn’t help but squeeze his shoulder in pleasure. With your head thrown back against the pillow that smelled of his aftershave, you let out soft whimpers. 

“You’re doing so good,” Dean praised, rocking his hips in and out of you. It took him a second to get to know the ins and outs of your body, trying to find your g-spot, but as soon as he located it, he doubled down. In just a few thrusts, he had you squirming beneath him, begging for more as he stimulated your core.

You felt your orgasm approaching, and before you could even give Dean a warning, you were spurting around him. Whining against his shoulder, you felt the peak of your orgasm spill over. With care, Dean continued to thrust in and out of you, riding you down from the high of your climax as he reached his own. Groans that sounded like a symphony sprang from Dean’s mouth. Collapsing on top of you with your bodies still connected, you both heavily breathed in unison. Interlocking your hands, Dean pressed his head against your chest. He cleared his throat, his lips gently pecking your collarbone. “We shouldn’t tell Sam about this.”

“No,” you agreed, guilt festering in the pit of your gut as you thought of your best friend. Was this a betrayal? Hooking up with his older brother? Squeezing Dean’s hand, your fingers brushed against the hardened skin of his index finger.

“Why are your hands so calloused?” You questioned, not necessarily meaning for the question to be spoken out loud.

“From my job. It’s the family business.” Dean let go of your fingers, and with a gasp from overstimulation, he pulled himself out of your core. Using his t-shirt, he wiped the insides of your thighs, finding solace in cleaning you up. 

“What do you do?” You hadn’t realized Dean worked outside of being a full-time student and full-time frat boy. It seemed that every time you spoke to Dean, you were unlocking buried lore, and one day you were determined to put the puzzle pieces together.

He paused, collecting his thoughts. “Call it community work.”