#hats are my worst enemy.

[wikiioake]

Snowwww.

“Snow”

Boyfriends hanging in the snow

Also happy new year! New year new mee ;))

Also doodle,,,,, kinda suksss

Misspellings too xxx,,,, I dunno it’s 4:00

Also bonus of Pokémon doodle of me and a friend drwe in new year

[idanit]

thinking about fem!Jeeves in American novelist!drag

[carmenpeach]

[ieatmypaper]

coughing chocking

[wheeloffortune-design]

i can't believe my mental health, my physical health, my career, my art and my future, are all dependant on the chinstrap i ordered just so i would stop taking off the cpap mask in the middle of the night

[deepseaspriteblog]

on that indigo blood adopt you posted... their beret(?) is so cute, do you happen to have a base of that itself out of curiosity? 💖🥺👀

Sorry for the wait, but here you go! Decided to just go ahead and post them alongside some hats that I'm pretty sure never made it out of my folders, including a re-do of my beanies/winter hat, the beret, a puffy hat (I don't know what it's called) and Anasui's triangle hat (I don't know what this is called either)

As always, a sta.sh link for easy download!: https://sta.sh/027viur5scuj

[tojipie]

bundle of joy <3

prison bf toji series linked here <3

this man was forged and handcrafted to be a girl-dad to a little sweetheart. i love him w all my heart.

the rasp of your husbands voice is so soft that you’re unsure if you’re still dreaming, head spinning from the IV cocktail the doctors had pumped into you the day prior.

toji sits with his back to you, your daughter cradled in the crook of his arm. your little bundle of joy so gently, letting her mindlessly grab at the cuff of his sleeve.

“what’re you doing, huh?” he mumbles, stroking the softness of her cheek with his thumb.

the baby ignores him, opting to try and get the fabric of his shirt into her mouth. soft, pink little gums bite down on freshly washed cotton, her feet kicking in excitement at the new texture.

“aht— hey!” he mumbles, gently pulling the soaked fabric from her grasp. “dirty.”

you sit up from your spot on the bed, inching over to the two of them.

toji truly can’t take his eyes off her, nodding intently while the newborn babbles nonsense to herself. he quickly switches her to his other arm once you join him, letting you lean your full weight on him.

tiny, pruney little fingers close around the bottom of his index, soft skin contrasting against the blues and blacks of his tattooed knuckles.

“is she supposed to be this tiny?” he whispers, half in awe half out of concern. your heart melts at how soft his voice is, eyes blown wide.

“f’course,” you giggle tiredly, still woozy from the epidural. you nose at the curve of his shoulder with a hum. “doctors said she was perfectly healthy, remember?”

“right, shit,” he mutters, tensing up at the freudian slip. “oh— sorry,” he says it to your daughter this time, clearly embarrassed at his lack of a filter.

toji’s lifestyle change had been a gradual process. a culmination of a life spent on the streets, moving up the ranks year after year until he’d forged an empire built on the bodies of his enemies.

then you came along, holding him down through a 7 year sentence while the world threw its worst at him, testing the integrity of your relationship as you both struggled to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

somewhere along the way nights at the club together turned into nights spent inside, planning out your future.

you had wanted to give him this for so long. to raise a child together and complete your little family, fulfilling both your lives just a little bit more. toji had dropped to his knees when you brought him the positive test, burying his face in your stomach to hide his teary eyes.

you can’t help but laugh to yourself at the irony of it all. that the man in front of you with the word “greed” gracing his knuckles in bold letters was holding your baby with all the generosity in the world.

“she drank a ton today.”

“oh yeah? big appetite huh?” he coos, pulling her pink baby hat up to let her little ears breathe.

“takes after her dad.”

your little blessing lets out a tiny yawn before closing her eyes, tuckered out after a long day of adjusting to her new world.

“should i put her back in the crib?” he whispers, so scared of waking the poor girl up.

let her sleep on me for a little, i’ll be up for a while anyways,” you explain, reaching for your daughter to let her settle onto your chest.

“my girls,” he mumbles, so full of love when he says it.

taglist ! 🏷️

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru

[wolfpip]

[chleem]

Flashing lights prologue

Series; actor Drew x actress reader

Summary: Drew gets involved in the worst scandal of his career. One way to solve it? Proving to the whole world that he’s the sweetest lover to exist. Who better to help than the one person he can’t stand? You, an A class actress with an alcohol addiction. So, will Drew clear up his reputation, or leave with a bigger mess to clean up?

Genre: fake dating, enemies to lovers(?, slow burn, angst, smut,

Warning: mentions of alcohol, swearing, mentions of k!lling oneself, mentions of rape & sa, mentions of drug usage, smoking & vaping,

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

♡⸝⸝ chapter 1 | index

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Talk about a scandal. 

‘Drew Starkey, rising star from OBX, impregnates girl and refuses to take responsibility.’ ‘Drew Starkey impregnates girl and forces her for an abortion.’ ‘All to know about OBX star that SA a girl.’

Even an interview starring a random girl that claims to be pregnant with Drew’s child. 

If Drew knew going to the club a week ago would cause such big damage to his career, he would have never stop foot in there. But being stubborn and a sucker for fun, he just needed the relaxation that clubbing would offer. 

His PR manager Henry, who Drew’s only sees once a year, is surprisingly quiet. He sits across Drew, staring at his laptop. His typing makes up for the quiet and tense (at least for Drew) atmosphere in his manager’s office. 

“I’m sorry,” Drew starts, genuinely, his eyes shifting between his manager Jeff and Henry. “Look, I don’t know who that woman is. She’s lying, alright? I didn’t even talk to any strangers last night. Just my friends. And I was careful with how much I drank-”

“Calm down, we didn’t accuse you of it,” Jeff chuckles, also surprisingly calm and not scolding Drew. Normally, Jeff would scold Drew so hard that it took Drew back to the days of being coached by his dad. “I’ve worked with you for almost ten years, I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Hold up. Was this a dream? He fucked up real bad, why were his managers so forgiving? So… calm? This felt way too strange. They should be furious right now, thinking of a solution and threatening to kill Drew. So why were they so gentle with this situation?

Drew adjusts his hat, pocking his tongue against his cheek. Without thinking, he simply says, “What?”

Jeff glances at Henry, who nods, looking up from his laptop. Drew furrows his eyebrows at Jeff, who simply looks away as Henry starts. “Fine, Drew. We’re all fucking pissed at your mistake. Do you know how many sponsors have asked to break up your contract? Even after we’ve came up with a clean statement? For fuck’s sake, Drew. You’re fucking thirty now, and you still act like a fucking child!”

Drew licks his lips looking away. Okay, this was the Henry he saw yelling at other artists, and what he expected when he walked into the office this morning. But now that he was yelling at him, it felt horrible still. After all, who likes to be yelled at? 

“I’ve had to pull multiple strings to help you, to clear your name up. So you better hope this is your last mistake,” Henry continues. 

Drew couldn’t help but ask, “what did you do?”

“We’ve come up with a plan,” Henry says, walking over to the printer. He grabs the paper, taking a quick look before placing it on the table in front of Drew.

Drew’s eyebrows furrow, sensing something really strange. 

And he was right. On the top of the paper, it read, “Fake dating Proposal.”

What the fuck. He reads through the first sentence in his head, with widen eyes, “In order to save Drew Starkey’s career, he must conduct a year-long fake relationship with Y/n Y/l/n.”

He falls back in his seat. “You’re not fucking serious. This is the strings you had to pull? This is fucking ridiculous! How is this-“

“Drew!” Jeff yells, making him shut up. His face was slightly red, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Drew, trust us. We wouldn’t cause more harm. This, this will save your career, save you.”

“but out of anyone-“ Drew adjusts his hat once again. “Out of anyone, and you chose her?”

“She’s the best choice of right now, and the only one who even agreed. Drew. You’re not in the place of choosing. You sign, and you accept it. Or it’s the end.”

He couldn’t believe himself right now. Literally. Out of every solution, every person, it had to be you. You, the one person he can’t stand. You, the one person that gets him worked up and annoyed. It was like the end of the world for him. 

Worse, his manager seems to agree with this solution. As if he doesn’t know how much Drew despises you. Jeff places the pen next to Drew. “I hate to say this, but Drew, you’re screwed unless you do this. We see the vision, and in a few years, you’ll see it too. Just, just treat this as another acting class, okay?”

Do I have a choice anyways, he thinks. Drew rubs his face in annoyance. Fuck. Damn you and damn himself. Getting into this stupid situation in the first place. 

He looks at the contract again. Sees your name again. And his head hurts a thousand times worse than a hangover. 

He reads through the contract terms, cringing at it. 

‘Must show up at five or more public evens together.’

‘Must show PDA at public events, such as touching, holding hands, kissing etc.’

‘Y/n Y/l/n must talk sweetly about Drew Starkey, and steer away any negative comments.’

‘During the course of this fake-relationship, being seen with any other costar of the opposite sex is forbidden.’

Much more was listed, at least twenty terms were on this contract alone. So this is the real thing. 

And at the bottom, Drew sees what was offered. Wow. You get offered millions of dollars, while all Drew receives is a clear to his scandal. 

He should at least get half the amount you’re earning, considering that he has to put up with you. “How can she get so much cash?” Drew asks, curiosity killing him. 

“Because she’s got nothing to gain from being with you,” Jeff states matter-of-factly, that hurt Drew’s ego more than it should have. He also noticed how much money this was, almost all the money he earned from acting in OBX. Wow. So not only were you a moody bitch, but a greedy one as well. 

Drew rubs his eyes aggressively, a frustrated yawn coming out. He so is going to regret this. The worst decision he ever has to make. 

You better be the savior to his career, or he was going to kill himself. 

Drew signs, pushing the paper away as if it had some kind of disease. 

Henry forces a smile, grabbing the paper. Drew gets ready to leave, but Henry stops him. “Where are you going?”

“Home. I- that was enough for me.”

“No, no. You’re going to Y/n’s filming set.”

“What?”

“Yes, you heard me. Her manager gave the green light, so you’re going.”

“Fuck, it’s only like, a minute since I signed.”

“Hey, I’m saving you right now,” Henry says. “Now, you want your sponsors back or not?”

Drew curses under his breath, never wanting to punch a wall as much as right now. “Fine. I'll go. But I can’t promise that I’m hugging or touching her or anything. She’s a complete stranger to me.”

“We just need a couple of photos to leak out,” Jeff says, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll drive you there.”

“Fucking hate you Jeff,” Drew says, walking out the office. “Henry you asshole.”

Either his managers heard and said whatever, or they didn’t care. But cursing at people who's helping him ‘save’ his career was the least of his worries. His head is just consumed with meeting you again, the brattiest bitch he's ever known.

-------------------------------

word count: 1.2k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: i'm sooo happy for the support and how much people liked the teaser! i was giggling seeing the reblogs and likes.

anyways, thought i should release a prologue first, to give drew's pov of this situation. apologies in advance for y/n's character and anyone who can't handle her! but i'm so excited for you guys to read ch1, which will be released later this week! like or comment to show support, really appreciate it <3

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Lucifer - [ FORSAKEN ]

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I need to write about him…! I literally can't stop thinking about him…like seriously he's been plaguing my thoughts for dayyysssss!!!

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ NSFW ] + [ SMUT ] + [ CORRUPTION & INNOCENCE KINK ] + [ SUPERIORITY COMPLEX LUCIFER ] + [ SLIGHT DUB CON ]

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It’s no secret that Lucifer gets obsessed with showing others the pleasures of the world and knowing you have yet to experience intimacy and now shy away from it in the afterlife simply because you fear being known as a virgin even in hell drives the fallen angel insane.

He figures your secret out quicker than anyone, always watching you closer than most, going out of his way to cluster and spoil you any way he can. When he's sure you're comfortable with his subtle advances, he moves into lingering touches and straightforward compliments.

You start to anticipate Lucifer’s attention, drowning in it whenever he's near. It’s a strange addiction you can’t shake, never having the chance to experience someone dote on you as much as he does, and he'll give into your sweet pining for him every time and not because he wants to be friends. Though it is rather flattering to his ego that you only have eyes for him.

His true interests in you stem from the desire to turn your soft words into moans of his name, imagining how the sparkle in your eyes will darken with pure lust when he fucks you for the first time, and deciding whether to make you take his cock once or more times than you'll be able to remember.

He simply has to lower your guard first, gifting you expensive items, studying your behavior outside of his company, and diligently building your self esteem with every word he says. It’s a methodical, harrowing approach, but he’s quite skilled at it.

Lucifer says all the right things and does what he can to earn your already cemented trust, and when he's sure you won't refuse his requests, he comes to your room late at night with a proposition.

He doesn't say much of anything when you allow him inside your room, eyes glowing brightly as he watches you perch yourself on the edge of your bed, gripping his cane to keep from touching the soft skin that isn't hidden by your short nightgown.

At first, his staring is something you're used to, don't see as a sign of desire, but rather a habit you assumed he has with every sinner. After a long moment, you begin to squirm, wanting him to speak since anxiety was your worst enemy, and being barely clothed in his presence was a reasonably new milestone for you.

“D-did you need something, Lucifer?” you ask him with a sheepish smile, and the blonde chuckles, biting his lip as he trails his gaze up to yours, “Yes, actually, I do, angel...” He shifts, doing away with his cane and top hat by the snap of his fingers before walking to stand in front of you. He may lack height, but you're shorter, especially sitting on a bed, and the instant height difference flutters your heart. A weird warmth spreads through your body as his scent engulfs you, a mix of pine and apple pouring off his tailored suit in waves and only intensifying as he brings a hand under your chin to lift it.

Lucifer is deliberately gentle, not wanting to startle you but drinking in your timid reactions to his touch. “Wanna help me with something important, sweetheart? It's fine if you don't want to, but you're the only one I trust to ask..” he smiles softly, holding your stare as it wanders his face for any clue to his true motives, but you find no hidden intent on his expression.

You're not naive, to a certain point, but he's far too skilled and manipulative to let you in on his goal, and so when you hesitate to answer him, Lucifer feigns a frown.

“Wouldn't you like to help me, baby doll? I'm your sovereign, after all, and it's only a small favor between friends..” his hold on your chin tightens a tad, and you gulp from the growing pressure he inflicts. You aren't allowed to look away from him then; the space between your bodies was inching towards non-existent as he nudged your knees apart with one leg, and you shivered as the fabric of his pants nestled between your inner thighs. A tender gasp leaves your lips as the fallen angel lowers his head, gradually caging you under his weight and closer to the bed itself, “You'll help me, won't you, sweet girl..” he purrs against your lips, breathing in the sultry whine of compliance you let out, “I'll help you, Luci.” You finally comply, running out of breath by the second, and deathly afraid of disappointing him with a refusal.

He grins, a deep laugh leaving his lips as you lift a hand to keep him at bay for a moment. “W-wait maybe I shouldn’t be doing this….with you…” is you can pant out as he grimaces at your hesitant action.

You don't want him to stop touching you, but you can't think straight with him this close, either, so you're prepared to break away from the devil himself until he smirks before getting a hold of your wrists. “What are you-??” The question dies on your tongue as he pushes you down entirely, grasping your jaw harshly as he kisses you gently, using his other hand to pin your hands above your head. You struggle underneath him for a second, trying to speak but too intrigued by the taste of his tongue gliding against yours, dazzled by the unfamiliar sparks in your core as he presses his thigh right on your clothed cunt.

That singular adjustment had your toes curling, a distinctive wet patch forming in your lace panties and rubbing off on his pristine white pants, and your face deepened another shade of red at the realization.

Why was this happening to you?

How could he possibly endure your hidden filthiness with so much passion?

Didn't he know you'd never done this before?

Never knew how to please another, let alone satisfy the king of Hell?

You felt a sliver of shame run up your spine, your heart beating louder as fear settled in your chest, and a sheen of tears coating your vision. “M’ sorry… I'm getting your clothes…a-all messy,” you whimper into Lucifer's mouth, absentmindedly chasing his lips for another kiss as he pulls away slightly to address your thoughtful apology -as unnecessary as it is.

“No need to apologize, sweetheart. I love to feel how wet you get for me…Dont you? Means you’re enjoying my touch…” he drawls nonchalantly, pecking your lips as you nod in agreement, tentatively rutting your hips against his thigh for more friction. Lucifer hums in approval, studying your new-found reactions and encouraging your body to meld into his.

“It’s only natural, angel. I know you can’t help it….”

The remnants of purity shatter from your consciousness when he sits up above you, suit jacket and vest long gone, and his dress shirt halfway undone to expose his ivory skin. Your break out into a cold sweat spotting the rise in his crotch, a noticeable imprint of his cock stretching the white fabric of his pants, making your head spin.

Still, your focus on his heavenly features falters as he spreads your legs to rest on either side of his hips. A jolt of embarrassment hits you as cold air floods over your wet cunt, practically leaking though he's barely touched you there, and you're tempted to cover up in shame as he lowers his gaze to the sight.

“Please don't look-” you start to protest, voice shakey with worry, but he ignores your plight while trialing a hand down your torso until it cupped your mound. A pool of arousal coated his palm, drizzling past his fingers on contact, and you cried out from the subtle touch. Lucifer cursed, taken aback by your sensitivity but even more enticed by the thought of using it against you.

“It's hard to believe no one ever laid a hand on such a pleasant sinner like you…” he mutters incredulously, fixated on toying with your clit, circling his palm over it while dragging two fingers further past your folds. You gripped the duvet with tight fists, eyes rolling to the back of your head as heat entrapped your core and body tossing about to lessen the new sensation in fear of a high you'd never known before.

“Don't make me…please. Th-this…I-I can't..” you babble softly, reaching to stop his hand with one of your own and attempting to close your legs for an extra measure of protection.

Lucifer clicks his tongue, a twinge of anger biting his pride, “Keep your hands to yourself, or I'll do it for you..” he growls, and you throw him a pleading look, afraid of his authority and terrified of disappointing him.

“But I-” you start to counter his order but yelp instead as he pushed your legs back open, landing a harsh slap on your cunt as a warning, and you heed it this time with a gracious moan. Lucifer's eyes are narrow as your face falls slack, a clear indication you enjoy him being rough despite experiencing intimacy for the first time, “It’s so easy isn’t it?…Enjoying another’s touch… It’s a shame you had to wait so long for it, Angel. Breaks my heart…” he mumbles, a triumphant smirk on his face as he finally pushes one then two fingers into your hot walls.

You mewl at the sudden but slow intrusion, greedily clenching down on his digits with a lazy smile adorning your face, nodding slowly as he starts to pump them experimentally.

“You're tight…warm too. Mmm, you feel so much better than I imagined, sweetheart. Well worth the wait…” The King of Hell praises you fervently, finding your sweet spots without much effort and abusing them to his heart's content. Your mouth fell agape, poised to speak but failing to do so as tempered cries left it instead. You were in hell, and the devil was making your skin crawl with a new sin you'd never thought of indulging.

Pure lust.

Lucifer intended to get you addicted to it, addicted to him, and nothing else.

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Should I make a part 2 or leave it be??? Hmmm. Choices…choices… I hope you enjoyed it either way cause it was just sitting in my drafts for the longest time.

NO TAGS: 🚫

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

Al don't be mad but you have some competition from this devilish twink- WOAH?!?? Who called him that?!?? (Not me I swearrr) ❤️ Alright ill stop. Credits to creator..

[marysdonuts]

Tom and Jerry

school clown!Hoshi x top student!reader

Synopsis: After transferring schools the attention seeker Soonyoung keeps getting on your nerves. Fortunately it is way too easy to make fun of his somewhat lacking intellect. One day you take your snarky comments too far and Hoshi is all fun and games, until he wasn't

Warnings: smut, enemies to lovers, high IQ (f.) x low IQ (m.), slight angst, school setting, classmates, public sex, revenge sex, dirty talk, crack, spanking, fingering, penetration, inferiority complex, questionable fashion choices

WC: 1.4K

Status: part 1 (ongoing), part 2

a/n: join my taglist to get notified about new chapters

Changing schools was easier than you thought it would be. You were halfway through your senior year of high school at the crisp age of 17. The family had to move to different city for work. Making new friends was effortless - you were intelligent, good looking and fun to be around. Of course, big part of your popularity was thanks to the charm of the next new thing which always attracted many admirers. You were getting straight A's, enjoyed busy social life, everything seemed perfect.

Well, almost perfect.

If it wasn't for Hoshi Kwon. The school's appointed clown, now pushing 19 years old, he failed his senior year twice. Pathetic, how could somebody be so stupid? You hated him the moment he showed up on the first day of school - in purple suit, tiger print on the collar with matching hat. Cane in hand. Kicking the door open while singing Sherlock from Shinee he danced can-can. His legs flying up to the rhythm of - I'm so curious yeah! Everybody loved the performance. Everybody except you. The fuck? Where did he even get that ugly ass outfit and apparently his real name was not Hoshi but Soonyoung. Who the hell calls themselves Hoshi? Does he think he is a celebrity? Stupid ass name.

After the teacher assigned him as your desk-mate he made it his mission to annoy you. Teacher's reasoning being - he might calm down sitting next to the top student. Such a nonsense. Isn't it their job to know how to control the kids? You weren't getting paid enough for this. In fact, weren't getting paid at all!!

//

On Friday he arrived to class more excited than usual.

"Look at my fit!" kicking his foot proudly on the wooden desk in front of you. Before you had time to push him off he continued

"Do you like my new shoes?" expecting compliments

"I haven't seen uglier shoes in my entire life." you responded with no emotions what so ever

"What do you mean ugly" his already small eyes squinting into straight lines, eyebrows frowning comically

You couldn't help but laugh. He looked like cartoon character

"Now you laughing at me too?!" Stomping the foot that was still resting on your desk " They are Balenciaga!" still stomping

"They look like boats," lazily resting your chin on the top of you hand "if refugees used these," pointing at the monstrosity "instead of those tiny motor boats, their survival rate would be 100%"

You could hear an audible *gasp* leaving his mouth and muffled laughs from the classmates sitting behind you.

"You are the worst!" he cried out "Do you even know how expensive they were.." tear forming at the corner of his cartoony eyes

"Probably as expensive as the donations your parents must be sending to the school each year to keep you studying here" your voice full of disdain

"wow a kick under the belt now, huh?" you could see the wheels in his little hamster brain spinning at full speed

"You will regret this" was all he could come up with in the moment

"I don't think so" smirk on your face beamed with satisfaction but the sudden dark shadow crossing Soonyoung's usually friendly face put a knot in your stomach

//

Much later that day, after your extra-curricular classes finished, you are standing in the dimly lit locker room reorganising the mess compiled after busy week. School was already empty and you loved the silence. The long halls full of lockers did look a bit spooky now but it wasn't your first time being there alone.

Squeeky steps approaching from behind you. Sounded like one of those Crocs.

"Anybody there?" you were sure it was just your imagination, simply asking the ghosts a rhetorical question

"What if there is.." vibrations of low growl echoed thru your ear sending shivers down the spine

"The hell..?" catching a glimpse of Hoshi in your peripheral vision. Why is he here this late? You knew damn well he ain't taking any extra classes.

"I was waiting for you..." his voice even closer now, hot breath touching the exposed skin of your neck. He was so close to you. You could hear his heart beating. Du dum. Du dum. Du dum. Stable. Confident. In control. Yours on the other hand reaching high frequency of dudududududum.

"What do you think you are doing, Kwon?" forced annoyance in your tone trying to mask something that was hiding a bit deeper. Panic perhaps?

"You tell me," he laughed but it sounded more like a threat "aren't you the one who knows it all?" Pressing the weight of his athletic body on yours, something hard forcing itself against your bottom made you gasp

"h-hey what's your problem.." you tried to sound intimidating, voice betraying you suddenly, only producing shattered whine

"You" not waisting one more second Soonyoung licked the curve of your neck completely sandwiching you between his throbbing heat and your cold locker. Kissing your sensitive skin as if he was waiting for it for so long. Wet kisses quickly becoming possessive bites leaving marks as his signature.

"oh fu-" was all that managed to escape your quivering lips as his hand spanked your ass with such force, it took your breathe away. You didn't want to admit it, but this situation? It was making you so incredibly wet.

Yes, you did hate him. Yes, he was annoying and loud. Always wanting to be the centre of attention. Apart from that you couldn't deny how good looking he actually was. Only person in school who could pull off blond hair and those horrendous outfits.Oh and how the lean muscles played on his body during P.E. class..? Except for his personality, he was 10/10

"You don't have any smart comeback now, do you?" Slapping you once more. Making you loose your breath - again.

"You look much nicer like this" the hand on your bottom started to move lower. Pushing your legs apart with his knee, making a way for his long fingers. Lightly tracing the center of your soaked panties

"stupid uniform-" you cursed. Why the hell did boys wear trousers but they made girls wear skirts? The last line of defence has been crossed.

"Oh?" rubbing the wet fabric "you are dripping all over your pretty panties" the strokes becoming spirals, combining your folds and the textile into unified mess

"I-I'm not..!" knees weakening into his skilful movements

"Mmm, I thought top students are not allowed to lie" forcing two fingers inside of you without warning. Deliciously thrusting into your pool of need.

"shut up-" already moaning. What the fuck am I doing? Now pushing your ass to meet his motion.

"If you are going to fuck me, at least do it right" another push against him "or are you too stupid even for that?" you mocked him, taking at least a bit of your power back

All you could hear was Hoshi's sinful laugh and clinking of metal as his jeans came undone collapsing on the tiled floor. His throbbing member now on your clit soaking in the wetness you produced. Gliding teasingly over it

"What if I don't want to?" rubbing in painfully slow rhythm, making you see stars

Hoshi was very much enjoying this moment. Moment of having upper hand on somebody he couldn't challenge intellectually, on somebody who always knew what to say, somebody who was making him feel and look small. Crushing his ego on everyday basis. Fortunately you were just his type.

"P-please..?" heard yourself saying. Almost as surprised as he was. But fuck it, his dick felt so good on you pussy and it was long time since you had any intimacy. It made you uncharacteristically needy. What's wrong with little steamy sex in the locker room? Nothing. Yeah.

"Please Soonyoung, I want to feel you inside of me. I can't take it anymore. You win."

Grin from ear to ear Hoshi finally entered you with such an enthusiasm like a kid getting the toy he really wanted.

Holding you by the wrists you were hanging off in empty air. Slapping the balls against your needy pussy he was pounding you mercilessly. Waves of pleasure running thru every inch of your body. You didn't notice it before but now you could feel it clearly. His dick had a curve to it and it felt fucking good. On every thrust the tip hitting you exactly where you wanted. You were full of him.

Why is it always these good for nothing guys who fuck the best? Or maybe you were just too harsh on him? You pondered as the following thrust almost took you over the edge, making your head fall forward.

And down there between your trembling legs pair of hideous Balenciaga sneakers

[shanieveh]

karma is my boyfriend !

— genshin men avenging the love of their life, you

The moment CYNO knew who ever wronged you. They were dead. Even after the calming him and telling him it's all in the past, every single person even to the dude who stole your eraser in fourth grade were now in the mercy of your aloof loser boyfriend. Now even the guy who scammed you of nfts were now pleading for their lives, and you can only sigh at how extra your man is.

ALHAITHAM was a powerful man, only second to their archon. At his very office there lies a list of every person that brought you trauma and pain. He didn't really like to get his hands dirty but this guy would pull up psychological mind games often sending these "buffoons" as what he calls it, anonymous letters that would scare their entire mind often needing several therapists as he keeps it all a secret from you.

SCARAMOUCHE really tried to to have a redemption arc, he really did. But no one is allowed to make you cry. Hat guy will find that person, and they would be thrown from the depths of the abyss to the very top of Celestia only using his one hand. Wronging you would mean wronging him. And forget being good, its nothing when it meant not seeing your enemies suffer. And its worse to see your crying all alone.

TARTAGLIA who really liked fighting, but loved seeing your enemies being tortured in the worst ways possible. Especially if he was the one in charge, he wanted them to know how incredibly useless, forgettable, petty, boring, ugly and disgusting they are compared to an otherworldly being angel like you. He wouldn't take their lives, he let them barely survive only to live and breathe knowing how pathetic their lives are while you continue being happy.

DILUC is one of the wealthiest people in the whole of tevyat and the moment they found out these worthless worms even tried and make you cry it was over. Land? Gone. Money? Gone. One by one he stripped them of everything they had, he wanted to give them a punishment. No one, and I mean no one in their right minds would make you sad and get away with it. He used his connections and fortunes to make sure that no one would mess with you again.

KAVEH forgets every moment of peace when he figured out the scoundrel who made you feel so blue. But instead of doing something to avenge you he first craddles you in his arms and makes you feel better. He sings you pretty lullabies so you'll forget about all that happen and he would even make you meals for a week so it was nothing but a scary dream and then he slapped that annoying pest in his face so hard after :)

[oceantornadoo]

a ghost lives

price came to your door and told you simon was killed in action. three months later, who's that at your door step?

angsty but turns smutty. happy ending dw :)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“no.”

you slammed the door, hands shaking. “no, no, no. it’s not possible.” your shaking hands raised to your cheeks, clawing. tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. the door opened, a dark figure walking through it. you flinched, taking steps backwards until your back hit the wall. you kept shaking your head, murmuring “no, no, no” without sound. you slid down the wall, staring at the man in front of you.

simon was in shambles. the moment he was medically cleared he had jumped on the next plane home, not bothering to tell anyone. he needed to see you, to hold everything he held dear, to believe in good again. and instead of a warm welcome, instead of your customary jump and kiss, you were breaking down. he didn’t understand it. what did he do wrong?

“love? it’s me. i’m home.” he said almost stupidly, unsure of his next move. he closed the door and locked it, and you flinched again. you were sitting on the floor now, tears running down your face with your head in your hands. he set his bag down gently, not wanting to spook you. he ripped off his mask and gloves, tucking them away. you gasped, finally making eye contact.

“you’re not real. you died. my husband died three months ago. you’re in my imagination. please, just go away.” you pleaded, prayed. price had come to your doorstep three months ago, hat in his hands, tears in his eyes. he talked about a difficult enemy and unfair terrain. the only word you heard was “k.i.a.” you died that day, and had been a breathing ghost ever since.

simon was in shock. he had left the hospital so quickly that he had never talked to his unit, didn’t know what they told you. he dropped to his knees, your pain flowing through him tenfold. “i didn’t die, love. i was just lost. i survived for two months in the woods until they found me. i was so badly injured i had to be treated by foreign operatives. price doesn’t even know, i thought they told him. i’m so sorry. i am so, so sorry. i’m here.” you shook your head at his every word. your nightmares were terrifying, but this was the worst one yet. you had never hallucinated in broad daylight. his familiar scent of musk and that cologne you bought him last christmas wafted through the air, punishing you. 

“i don’t believe you. you’re not real. i buried you.” you couldn’t afford to hope. the last months had been about survival, and you had just started eating regularly without bursting into tears, imagining simon cooking his famous meat pie in your kitchen. “casket was empty, lovie. i’m going to touch you now. i need you to know i’m here.” he reached his hand out slowly, like he was approaching a feral cat. you flinched again, breaking another piece of his heart and burying it like that empty casket. his fingertips brushed your cheek and your mouth dropped, tears stopping. 

“si? tell me this is real. convince me.” he maneuvered over until his knees touched yours, bringing you down to earth. you couldn’t believe him. your ghost was alive. there was no way. maybe you had too many melatonin gummies last night.

“look, dove.” he pulled up his shirt, showing you new scars. you had his scars memorized, mapped down to the millimeter, and you would never dream of him being hurt more. he showed you his bandages, moving your fingers over the wrapped bullet hole. he grimaced and you gasped. you would never wish for simon to be in pain, so the fact that he was meant…

you flung yourself at him, shedding new tears. “you’re here, you’re really here. you’re alive.” he nodded against your shoulder. you hear a small meow and drew your head back, looking at riley jr., your ball of fur. she padded over softly and nuzzled her head against simon’s knee, drawing a short laugh from him as he scratched behind her ears. through all of your nightmares, riley jr. had never acknowledged your ghosts. which meant simon was real. which meant he was alive. 

“i’m here.” he kissed your forehead, brushing back your hair. “i’m here.” he kissed between your eyebrows, smoothing the creases there. “i’m alive.” he kissed your tears away, drying your face. “i’m never leaving, dove.” he kissed your nose, finally drawing a small smile out of your. “i’m home.” he kissed your lips, and you kissed back fervently. your husband was home and alive and here. “simon, i’ve missed you. you have no idea. i died that day. i’ve been waiting to join you ever since.” he shook his head as tears rolled down his face. “be ready to wait another 70 years, love. we’re alive.” you tackled him again, pushing him down on the ground. you kissed him with the passion that had been gone for the last three months, cracked and dried out inside you. you climbed on top of him, needing to feel him, needing to believe. 

you grinded your hips against his, drawing out a low moan. “let me inside. let me show you i’m alive.” he said, still not convinced you believed him. you nodded, overcome with love for the man beneath you. he rubbed his palm against your clit, rocking you as you kissed. you hadn’t even thought of sex in the last three months, and it had somehow built up to this. you were instantly wet, always ready for your simon. you felt his hardness underneath you as he bucked his hips. you unzipped his pants, taking him out, long and heavy in your hands. he pulled aside your shorts and you sunk down on him with a low moan. “my husband. my simon. you’re alive.” you finally, truly believed it. he bucked into you, the friction of his clothes stimulating your clit. “my wife and her beautiful cunt, sucking me in. look at you.” there were dried tears on your face, sweaty clothes clung to your body, and your cunt squelched with every thrust. you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. you were so pretty, even when you cried. 

he flipped you both over, fucking into you hard on the floor. his hand wrapped around your head, protecting it from bumping. “i’m back because no one could ever fuck you like this. no one as good as me. say it.” he ordered, needing reassurance. “no one as good as you, si. no one will ever be you.” you moaned, your orgasm building up, with something behind it. he sucked your neck and pinched your nipples, reminding your body of how good it felt to be owned by him. “come on, dove. come for me.” you felt so wet and achy, your emotions out of control. his voice was the only thing keeping you conscious. you felt stuffed, full of your husband. “come on, my dirty girl. let me fill you up. my welcome home gift.” you gasped as you came, a tingling sensation following it. you looked down as you squirted on simon’s cock, so overwhelmed. he came, the juices mixing, trailing down your holes. “gonna give you a baby so you won’t ever leave. we’re never leaving each other, yeah?” he grasped your hair and pulled you in for a kiss.

“never, simon. i’m yours.”

[keyotosprompts]

not easy to please ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

alternatives to popular tropes

⇴ siblings's worst enemy

they're your sibling's enemy, so of course they're yours too. they're despicable and you seriously want them dead. luckily for you, the feeling's mutual.

⇴ struggling ceo and their know-it-all office worker

how did this mf become the ceo of one of the most progressive countries in the world?? they're clueless and you're the one that has to fix all their mistakes. you seriously don't get paid enough for this (unless they can come up with another way to pay you).

⇴ marriage of inconvenience

what happens in vegas stays in vegas. except when you've signed an official marriage contract, and everything is so much more complicated before. now this person is stuck with you until you can divorce! (or will you?)

⇴ forbidden hate

your parents absolutely adore the idea of the two of you together. they have wedding pinterest boards, future plans, and baby names for the two of you. only one thing: you two kinda hate each other, and hell would have to freeze over before you'd ever get with them.

⇴ no more second chances

sorry dude! f'ed up really bad the first time, and now you're not giving anymore chances, and your ex has to deal with the consequences. one problem: they can't deal with the consequences bc they're literally in love with you. hm. just what will this person do to get you back?

⇴ not so secret identity

everyone knows who they are. not even the old mask and hat trick could prevent people from identifying them. and it's fine–they absolutely bask in the fame. one problem though: they're a constant target to the entire world. perfect!

⇴ separated from each other

they never get any alone time. alone together in an elevator? too bad, a party of ten just showed up, pushing the two of you on the opposite side of the elevator. finally alone at home? nope! unfortunately, your friends make a surprise visit! oh how will you two ever get past this?

⇴ "you deserved it."

a normal person would've asked "who did this to you?" except your bond is not normal. not in the slightest. i mean seriously, what does this person want from you?

⇴ "i can't have you, so i'll let someone else take my place."

they know that they're not good enough for you, and that you deserve someone better than them. so, they choose to let you go, and hope that someone else can make your world light up like they used to

⇴ the one that is still here

everywhere you go, this person is there. whether it's physically, mentally, or spiritually, everything ties back to them. everything reminds you of them. you couldn't even escape if you tried.

⇴ playboy but he's actually a nerd that cannot get play

he's gorgeous–he's the most attractive man you think you've ever seen in your life. you think he's probably got it all–girls or boys coming up to him nonstop. only, that's not true in the slightest. somehow, he's managed to fumble every single time.

⇴ nobody wants the bad boy

he's troubled. there are rumors of him starting fights 24/7, and he lives in a bad area. he could really fuck someone up. nobody wants him.

⇴ "you must be delusional"

lovers that know that they're in love with each other, but when admitting it to their friends, they shut down their feelings.

⇴ loving someone to save them

none of that breaking up nonsense. love is power. their love and support causes you to be stronger than ever. knowing that there's love out there gives you a reason to keep on going. love saves you.

⇴ too smart to live

you've outdone yourself this time. bypassed every guard, rule, and law without anyone catching you. so, of course, there's only one solution here: to eliminate you.

⇴ different worlds (revised)

you grew up poor while they grew up rich. now, in the present, you are the more successful one, while they are struggling to get their life together. now, you must help the one who used to be in your current position, and fix things together.

⇴ one-sided blind date

rule one of having a blind date: you should not know who you're meeting. well, too late! you sneaked a peek at your friend's phone and found out who you'll be seeing soon. now, you're scrambling to get out of this date because you know exactly who it is.

[hottpinkpenguin]

For event:

Alfie Solomons with

A - “Ask me to stay” + N - not good enough

Please. Thanks

A/n: hiiiiiii, i realized after i wrote it that i got over-excited and forgot the quote (the trope is there though!!) but i like this too much not to post it!

Alfie Solomons X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2229 Tags: angst, steam, canon-divergence, swearing, misogynistic themes

Alfie Solomons was a man of many vices and few virtues. He’d gone to great pains to ensure that. 

Usually this fact was one he lived proudly. He lived violently, lavishly, and with reckless abandon. Spent his money foolishly, shot his pistols carelessly, and slept with women thoughtlessly. This earned him a larger-than-life reputation in Camden Town. It impressed his employees, amused his business partners, and irritated his enemies. Alfie Solomons was a thorn in the side of propriety, and he loved it.

That changed quickly after meeting you. 

Alfie wasn’t entirely sure when that change happened - he couldn’t finger a specific moment or blame any particular feeling - but he had realized some time ago that the man he’d spent his entire life growing into was suddenly a hindrance.

And it had never been clearer than now.

“Mr. Solomons, I am not a man prone to jokes or levity, especially in moments as grave as this.” Your father was sitting across from Alfie, his back as straight as a whipping rod, hands splayed on the small kitchen table between them. He was taller than Alfie remembered, with shrewd dark eyes that bored straight into him. The absent smile of regret slid off Alfie’s face when he snapped back into the moment, dragged out of wistful reverie. 

“No, n-no sir.” A stutter? Alfie Solomons had never stuttered a day in his life, but here he was, reduced to a stuttering, sheepish shadow of himself in your kitchen. He could hear the slightest creak of a floorboard outside the kitchen door - no doubt you and your three younger sisters listening intently to the near-midnight conversation about your future. 

“I must admit, Mr. Solomons, I am utterly perplexed. My daughter is a young woman with no means, very few prospects beyond that which marriage will afford her. It is my understanding that she intends to pursue a life in the church, in fact.” Alfie’s heart froze to solid ice in his chest. A nun? My god, what was this woman doing to him. Alfie Solomons swore silently to himself that he’d die before he saw you don a habit and wimple. The mere sight of that alone would kill him.

“Yes sir, yes, I understand. I understand well.”

Your father’s eyes narrowed as it was rather obvious that Alfie Solomons did not, in fact, understand at all.

“She is a good girl, but plain and modest in both looks, prospects, and background. Surely a man of your… stature-” your father’s voice pressed down on this word with distaste “- would have his pick of eligible brides.”

Alfie stifled a chuckle, recognizing that it would do him no good to appear cocky or dismissive of your father’s concerns. Your father was right on all accounts: Alfie Solomons was a gangster, a womanizer, and a criminal. You, on the other hand, were… well, words failed Alfie when it came to describing you, but to say you were everything that he was not was an understatement of the worst kind. 

He settled on what he hoped was an appropriately chaste nod. Your father leaned back slightly in his chair, eyeing his eldest daughter’s apparent suitor with bald antipathy. Alfie wasn’t used to people - especially other men - regarding him so openly. It made him uncomfortable in a manner he was quite unused to, as if he was being truly seen for the first time in a long time. He squirmed slightly in his chair, clearing his throat and fidgeting with the wide-brim of his best hat, something he’d had commissioned specifically for this occasion. 

The silence between the two men was widening into a chasm. It was more than you could take. Suddenly unable to stop yourself, you leapt up from the crouch you’d been in for the last half hour, eavesdropping from the stairwell with your mother and younger sisters. You launched down the stairs, despite your sisters grabbing at your nightgown. Your mother gasped as you flung open the kitchen door, almost unseating Alfie in the process. Your kitchen was as modest as your future prospects, and with the three of you crammed into the space it was mighty tight. The added pressure of your nearly-dashed hopes, your father’s broad disappointment, and Alfie’s hopeless attachment to you turned the meager room from cozy to positively stifling. 

“Papa, please! I love him! You can’t keep me from him, I won’t let you!” 

Childish and painfully simple, not nearly the eloquent protest you’d been mulling over all day. And a lie to boot. If push came to shove - as it so often did with your father - he could very much keep you from marrying Alfie Solomons. Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment at your outburst.

Alfie, for one, thought you’d never looked more perfect. Your eyes sparkled in the dim lamplight, your hair was undone and slung over one shoulder in a lazily constructed braid, small curls breaking free around your temples and forehead. Your skin flushed with the unseasonable warm of the September night in Camden Town, those beautiful pillowy lips he couldn’t get out of his head parted and pink. If he was a coarser man and the situation less important, he felt sure he’d grab you and pull you onto his lap right then and there, bystanders and naysayers be damned.

“Saints above, m’dear, come away and cover yourself!” Your mother had been only a few steps behind you. Unable to step fully into the kitchen, she settled for tugging on your arm. Your blush deepened to a shade of red bordering on purple as you realized you were standing in nothing but a summer-thin nightgown. Alfie’s gaze hadn’t made its way far enough from your face yet to take in the ample expanses of skin on display, but your father was glaring daggers into the opposite wall, his jaw set so tight you wondered his teeth didn’t break. 

Appropriately embarrassed, the element of surprise now lost to you, you bowed your head and let your mother tug you out of the kitchen. Your mother - a soft-souled romantic at heart - made gentle soothing motions against your back as silent sobs began to rack through you. You climbed the stairs in a fog, your sisters scattering at your mother’s insistence that ‘the show’s over, girls’. With each step higher, you felt certain that the future you’d imagined for yourself with Alfie was destined to be nothing more than a far-flung dream. 

The kitchen had sunk back into a tense silence, however for subtle reasons not quite clear to Alfie, your father seemed infinitely more disquieted by your scene than he’d have expected from the sour old puss. Those gnarled, knobby hands that had, until just a moment ago, been laid out like piles of kindling on the table all evening were suddenly clasped together and fidgety. Your father seemed shorter, his spine bowing under an invisible weight. Against himself, Alfie Solomons found himself leaning forward with a hint of concern.

“Sir? Are you quite alright?” 

Your father’s gaze had lost none of its venom, although behind that mask of derision was a spark of emotion. 

“How did you manage it, Mr. Solomons?” The question was as quiet as snowfall in winter. Alfie almost had to ask him to repeat it. 

“What, sir? Manage what, sir?” More stuttering. Gods be damned, Alfie Solomons was a mess. The image of you bursting into the kitchen, all softness and outrage and girlish desire, had tied him into knots. 

“My eldest daughter is many things, Mr. Solomons. A diligent student, a kind voice to her sisters, a steadfast helper to her mother. A pious child of God.” (Alfie struggled to keep himself from breaking into an impish grin, knowing that if your father had any inkling of the enthusiastic midnight rendezvous the two of you indulged in frequently that he most certainly would not dub you pious.) “And a passionate spirit, I confess. Yet… that part of her is… locked away.” 

Alfie found himself nodding, his memory dragging him back to the first few weeks of your acquaintance. You’d been all business - all ‘yes, Mr. Solomons’ and ‘right away, sir’. But he’d seen that fire in you, the same fire your father spoke of. It simmered deep in your eyes and bubbled up when you laughed. It had sent Alfie to the brink of madness to come so close to something he wanted so badly and to be denied it. But with diligence, patience, and focus - all virtues that Alfie Solomons had gone to great lengths to rid himself of - he’d finally won you over. He’d finally found that the fire inside you burned wild and free. You were raw and open and unfettered with him now. A gift he’d kill for. Hell, he’d die for it too. 

“But not with you, apparently.” Your father’s voice trailed off into quiet. Alfie wondered what he was meant to say. He settled on a noncommittal grunt of agreement. 

“How that came to be, I find myself unable to hazard a guess…” Another probing gaze, the kind that made Alfie squirm. “And perhaps I wouldn’t like the answer. In fact, I…” Your father stopped suddenly, clearing his throat and straightening his crisp Sunday jacket. A ridiculously formal choice for the occasion, Alfie thought, although he realized he could hardly cast stones as he looked down at his freshest suit, newest hat, and shiniest shoes. It seemed both of them had understood the importance of this night, and of the things that hung in the balance with their words.

“I am quite shocked to hear myself say this, Mr. Solomons, and I urge you to leave quickly lest I reconsider. But yes. You may marry her.” 

Alfie wondered if he’d finally drank himself into madness. This surely was a dream, a whiskey-addled fever dream. He gaped openly at your father, stammering out nothing more than shocked noises. 

“You don’t have my blessing, although I won’t stand in your way.” 

The door to the kitchen burst open again, and in you came once more, squealing and flying into a pair of outstretched arms. Alfie smiled as your father engulfed you in a surprised hug. You were bouncing on your toes, peppering the side of his freshly shaved face with kisses and earnest expressions of ‘oh thank you Papa! Thank you!’ Alfie was glad to see that you’d thrown on a housecoat and pinned up your hair in a style more akin to what he was used to seeing you wear. He didn’t trust himself around you with that just-woke-from-sleep blush on your lips. 

Always trailing behind you, in rushed your three sisters and your mother, exclaiming and clapping their hands as if it were a jubilee. How the entire family - plus Alfie Solomons - managed to fit into that pint-sized kitchen was nothing short of a miracle. Hugs were exchanged, and Alfie kissed so many hands he wasn’t sure who’s high-pitched voice was talking to him anymore. 

It wasn’t until he felt your familiar weight balancing on the toes of his boots that he felt himself begin to swim into reality. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around you tightly, lifting you up off your feet into his embrace. You squeaked with joy, your soft hands finding their way to frame his face. Tossing all rules of propriety to the wind, your lips connected with his in a defiant, joyful, and soft kiss. You were warm under Alfie’s hands, and he was glad that no one but you could hear the groan of need he let loose as he tasted you on his tongue. For a moment, he let himself lose time in your mouth, hands resisting the urge to roam across your backside and around the swell of your hips. 

A pointed throat cleared, bringing Alfie Solomons down from the high. 

“As I suggested, Mr. Solomons, a timely exit would be a wise decision.”

Despite his generally somber countenance, Alfie could detect the faintest note of happiness in your father’s words. A confident declaration you’d made earlier that week drifted back to Alfie: Papa loves me, Alfie. He’ll have no choice but to say yes when he sees how in love we are. 

Alfie hadn’t believed a word of that back then, but he was grateful for your prescience. With a broad smile and a swelling heart, Alfie nodded graciously to your mother, sisters, father, and lastly to you, his bride-to-be, before making his exit. He donned his cap on the front steps outside your door, not minding the oppressive warmth of a sticky night even under his three layers of wool suit.

You stepped halfway out the door to wave shyly as Alfie retreated into the night, his feet barely touching the pavement beneath. He turned back more times than he could count to see you still standing there, bathed in the streetlamp’s light. He rounded the corner at the end of your street with the warm realization that, in a few weeks time, there’d be no more goodbyes from front stoops between the two of you. Only goodnight kisses - likely much more than that, if Alfie had any say at all - as one of you would turn down the bedside lamp, turning off the light on another happy day together in a future neither of you were sure would ever come to be…

[15-lizards]

Dothraki clothing ideas or as I like to call it trying to fix George’s mistakes

The Dothraki sea is gigantic I don’t understand why they’re all wearing the same thing. Weather affects what you wear!! There should be heavy furs and leathers farther north and light wools near the center. And everyone should be wearing multiple layers why are the Dothraki always half naked. The sun and the wind are your worst enemy if your constantly riding, you need to cover up!! Also colors need to be a thing (yes even for the average Dothraki not just the Khals)

Again why are Khals and Khaleesis essentially wearing the same clothing as slaves and common folk. These people are said to have immense pride, so they should use their spoils from raids and pillages to decorate themselves lavishly. The daughter of a Khal should be dripped the fuck out in beads and metalwork and dyed heavy fabrics. The common members of the Khal would be the ones wearing worn leathers, so they can protected themselves while riding and herding

Hats and Headdresses oh my goddd why is every fantasy show afraid of covering their heads. Imagine how cool horsehair headpieces would look, maybe they’re significant for a bride or married woman or religious figure. And there should be everyday hats as well. There’s no shade in the Dothraki sea, so everyone should be wearing a variety of hats depending on weather and their status.

Silhouettes should have some similarities, but still differ from each other based on location. The basic look would most likely be a wrapped tunic with slits on the side to easily mount and ride horses, and a belt to hold everything together. And this should just be the basic shape, people would add their own embroidery or overcoats or detachable sleeves etc etc

Finally: Khalasars need to be DISTINCT from each other. It doesn’t make sense that every single Khalasar we see wears tan leather and horse hair and blue paint. Maybe one tribe can be recognized by the shape of their hats or the fact that they have some clothing inspired by YiTi, because they are so close. Maybe another can be recognized by their bright blue pigment they use to dye most of their garments. This is a huge culture there needs to be distinctions based on location